26.July.2001
irrevocable
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tell me you want this
I have been inspired by this beautiful fucking creature. Inspired to just write perpetually and to go carelessly through words in this entry.
My new favourite thing on the planet is this mood ring I borrowed from my brother, where the entire band is the mood:strip, set between two curves of silver. It's something incredibly tangible.
I cannot even begin to dissect today, but I'm placated in every sense of the word, and I'm shamelessly blasting Seal into my headphones, mostly the song "Human Beings". This is what I've said for fucking years. We're mere human beings, we die. There is something so desperate about this, how there is all the time in the world but no time whatsoever, and I won't shake this.
I listened to it repeatedly after the Duck incident, and I was disgustingly tender in all the clandestine places of myself. Joe was good to my heart through this, I wonder if apart of him was perversely satisfied with its outcome. I'm not iron:filled enough to ask.
He was good to my heart, but something was always missing, and I left after a year and a half. And I've tried to pocket it away as the past, as the past was meant to be, but sometimes it comes to haunt all over me.
I often do not even know why I am here. This is normal, this is bloodletting.
Tonight, I went with Sammy to the movies to vitty perhaps one of the most boring films of all time. But later, we went driving, and for the first time we became adults together, reminiscing, the road gave way to the past beneath the weight of the Toyota. And we were bringing it back as we were passing right through it. We passed my high:school, we passed our junior high, our elementary school, I stared at the large, empty field which surrounded the school, the dark, 1:45 in the morning, but illuminated by the streetlamps, and I could feel myself years ago walking this field, and memories of a Halloween party of the early 90s, costumes, my heart, boys, angst, my heart, dances, sweat, my heart. It happened in less than a minute.
She is the only person I've kept around me as a strong crony for over 13 years. She knows me as well as she doesn't know me. I was surprised to find her dark side tonight.
I blame my brother on my affinity for driving. As soon as he turned 16, he took me along for midnight rides along the lakeside; Led Zeppelin seethed from the tape-deck. This was ten fucking years ago. Ten years gone.
It shaped my bones as something introspective and circumspect, although my exterior is careless and loud, hard, an explosion of odd colours in a delicious pattern that clashes as well as melds perfectly.
There is a certain honesty that comes with sex that festers in me. Driving is like this honesty, it's languid, Sunday morning sex.
But she and I drove, made shapes of the bleared houses, the formless entities amongst them, the history of the porches, it reminds me of the time in 1997 when the Berlin Wall went on tour. I touched its history-laden surface, rough. It was like LSD-ing myself into the brain:tide of things released.
I think this is why I no longer take drugs.
We passed the memorial of the bombing, just downtown in Oklahoma City where I now live once again. Something so beautiful about loss, gain, realising that through the years nothing changes, we merely change how we express ourselves. I entered the conscious of my younger self and I slapped me around and I held myself and I laughed and I held. And held. And held.
As soon as we drove past, I let it go.
Lights, darks, speed, distance, I am a slave to this.
And when I came home, I unlocked the door with my keys, alone, was careful in movement and form, came into here, heated up this cheeseburger I endeavoured to masticate although its thick meatness kicked my ass. And I sat here, and I blasted Seal, and I think, all humiliations aside, everything I've tried to attain but was lost, boys who run, girls who run, people who fall out of life, I think I'm going to be ok.
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time & machine