Whats it gonna take to get an active audience? Shall I write about my sexual endeavour, or lack there of? Or my arrogant narcissistic boyfriend, or lack there of?
Sex sells, and your no different.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Something or nothing- Part 2
Cardboard. That’s how it felt like, do they ever mention that you start forgetting simple words as your life wastes away and your cells refuse to renew properly, nope. No one mentioned you’d forget simple words, guess that is the way of the universe.
The cardboard was actually in his hands, he was holding it up, the elegantly handmade sign- anything handmade makes it automatically elegant, that too is the way of the universe… or marketing executives? Anyway, the sign read “F you.”
Cash stood there with the cardboard sign, elegantly handmade, smiling in what he hoped was a welcoming “I’m a poor old man” smile. He swallowed some pills, his white gems, they helped with the headaches and the world.
A girl with a pierced face walked by, read the sign and laughed then continued on her way, perhaps to get more holes. Cash loved sitting there for the entire afternoon observing the reactions of people, their faces twisted either in disgust or in a smile, a psychology experiment if you will. He would know, he preached the subject to both students and patients alike, the students appreciate it, the patience however didn’t see the sense in it, they didn’t see much sense in anything though. As the years passed by him, and his body degenerated he didn’t see the sense in it either, yes, maybe along with his body his brain had decided to degenerated as well, maybe.
He continued to linger on the side of the pavement, “F you, f you.. f f f f f f F yoooouuuu…” He sang under his breath, swinging from one foot to the other slightly losing his balance.
“F you” meant nothing, he wasn’t swearing, passers by were to interpret it in anyway their narrow minds wished. He could see that most saw it as an offensive statement, it’s a letter next to a word, and it meant nothing. People take things that mean essentially nothing and somehow manage to twist the nothingness around into some sort of insult and play victim. And more than anything people just love playing victim.
“Mister. Hey! Mister!” a little girl smiled, it looked fake and plastered.
“Hello child,” He smiled back at her fake-ness.
“Why?” she asked, fake plastic sing song voice.
“Because.” He answered in a mimicking fake plastic sing song tone.
“Because the world is self-destructing?” there were three of her now,
“No because we’re pushing the “blow it all to fucking pieces” button child,” He laughed,
The world swung into focus now, like an HD TV.
“What? Because? I mean why are you holding up this sign… What does it mean? Do you want money? Are you homeless mister?” The child looked confused,
“Well, why not kid?” He smiled down at her. An angry mother grabbed the child and took her away, perhaps to dose her up with dreams and fairytales. Perhaps.
Cash put the cardboard on the floor kneeled down and wrote, “Make of it what you will.” In what he hoped was wise-all-knowing type of handwriting. He then taped to a display window, laughing at his own madness, a 47 year and 5 months old man dressed in a suit and tie hanging up a piece of wisdom on a cardboard.
If you drove past the river island on Central Street you would read “F YOU. Make of it what you will.” Wasted wisdom on humanity really, Cash shrugged, most things were wasted on humanity.
Cash proceeded to cross the street while the little green man flashed at him, he then stood at the middle of the cross roads and bowed to the cars facing him, thank you for providing me with such entertainment. He smiled at the little boy clapping in the car in front of him, and walked, blending into the crowed of mayhem. A respectable businessman, just another normal old guy in a crowed of normal boring people.
The cardboard was actually in his hands, he was holding it up, the elegantly handmade sign- anything handmade makes it automatically elegant, that too is the way of the universe… or marketing executives? Anyway, the sign read “F you.”
Cash stood there with the cardboard sign, elegantly handmade, smiling in what he hoped was a welcoming “I’m a poor old man” smile. He swallowed some pills, his white gems, they helped with the headaches and the world.
A girl with a pierced face walked by, read the sign and laughed then continued on her way, perhaps to get more holes. Cash loved sitting there for the entire afternoon observing the reactions of people, their faces twisted either in disgust or in a smile, a psychology experiment if you will. He would know, he preached the subject to both students and patients alike, the students appreciate it, the patience however didn’t see the sense in it, they didn’t see much sense in anything though. As the years passed by him, and his body degenerated he didn’t see the sense in it either, yes, maybe along with his body his brain had decided to degenerated as well, maybe.
He continued to linger on the side of the pavement, “F you, f you.. f f f f f f F yoooouuuu…” He sang under his breath, swinging from one foot to the other slightly losing his balance.
“F you” meant nothing, he wasn’t swearing, passers by were to interpret it in anyway their narrow minds wished. He could see that most saw it as an offensive statement, it’s a letter next to a word, and it meant nothing. People take things that mean essentially nothing and somehow manage to twist the nothingness around into some sort of insult and play victim. And more than anything people just love playing victim.
“Mister. Hey! Mister!” a little girl smiled, it looked fake and plastered.
“Hello child,” He smiled back at her fake-ness.
“Why?” she asked, fake plastic sing song voice.
“Because.” He answered in a mimicking fake plastic sing song tone.
“Because the world is self-destructing?” there were three of her now,
“No because we’re pushing the “blow it all to fucking pieces” button child,” He laughed,
The world swung into focus now, like an HD TV.
“What? Because? I mean why are you holding up this sign… What does it mean? Do you want money? Are you homeless mister?” The child looked confused,
“Well, why not kid?” He smiled down at her. An angry mother grabbed the child and took her away, perhaps to dose her up with dreams and fairytales. Perhaps.
Cash put the cardboard on the floor kneeled down and wrote, “Make of it what you will.” In what he hoped was wise-all-knowing type of handwriting. He then taped to a display window, laughing at his own madness, a 47 year and 5 months old man dressed in a suit and tie hanging up a piece of wisdom on a cardboard.
If you drove past the river island on Central Street you would read “F YOU. Make of it what you will.” Wasted wisdom on humanity really, Cash shrugged, most things were wasted on humanity.
Cash proceeded to cross the street while the little green man flashed at him, he then stood at the middle of the cross roads and bowed to the cars facing him, thank you for providing me with such entertainment. He smiled at the little boy clapping in the car in front of him, and walked, blending into the crowed of mayhem. A respectable businessman, just another normal old guy in a crowed of normal boring people.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Something or nothing- Part 1
Steady now, your footsteps are falling heavy on the aching ground and I can hear your strained breaths under a breaking spirit. She smiles at his indifference, ironic after all the times he tried to convince her otherwise.
Flash back:
An old haunted road, one Victorian house. They were seated in an old ford, the blue washed away to grey, the seating cracked and broken.
“this is it?” his voice was as haunting as their surroundings
“yes” she looked into his dull eyes, they bored her.
“So, what now?”
Simple as a question might come but in this situation she couldn’t… Wouldn’t answer. Answering would mean taking responsibility for the actions that came. And everyone hated responsibility.
She heard the car door gently close behind him, she did not follow, she sat there trying to steady herself; She sat there trying to remind herself of herself. The string of events that brought them to this moment, although surprising were somehow expected, like something she’d seen before in a dream. With aching movements she got out of the car and stood next to him, then she was in his arms.
“Hello house on a haunted hill.” An insane smile played on her lips. Who cared about taking responsibility for your actions? Lets just be reckless, we’ll laugh at the wreck after we’ve created it.
Real time:
His emotions were running away from him, getting ahead of him and wreaking havoc. He blamed the pills, he could blame them for everything really. They make his worthless life feel responsibility-free.
He looked at the little orange bottle and smirked, shaking it, watching the little white gems moving left and right… left and right..
The world decided to spin on him that moment, Lucy, where was Lucy?
“luccceee… Luceee…” the words came out broken
static was filling up his head now, pain, pain, pain… Hello intolerable pain, he laughed manically and it seemed like a distant voice, not his own.
A white angel with red flaming hair guided him to something soft, he smiled in gratitude, the angel with flaming red hair placed something small in his sweaty palm. Her blurry white shadow came closer, heated words blew up in his consciousness
“Take your damn pills, old man.”
Feisty red headed angel, or devil, can’t really tell anymore. Is there much of a difference anyway?
Flash back:
An old haunted road, one Victorian house. They were seated in an old ford, the blue washed away to grey, the seating cracked and broken.
“this is it?” his voice was as haunting as their surroundings
“yes” she looked into his dull eyes, they bored her.
“So, what now?”
Simple as a question might come but in this situation she couldn’t… Wouldn’t answer. Answering would mean taking responsibility for the actions that came. And everyone hated responsibility.
She heard the car door gently close behind him, she did not follow, she sat there trying to steady herself; She sat there trying to remind herself of herself. The string of events that brought them to this moment, although surprising were somehow expected, like something she’d seen before in a dream. With aching movements she got out of the car and stood next to him, then she was in his arms.
“Hello house on a haunted hill.” An insane smile played on her lips. Who cared about taking responsibility for your actions? Lets just be reckless, we’ll laugh at the wreck after we’ve created it.
Real time:
His emotions were running away from him, getting ahead of him and wreaking havoc. He blamed the pills, he could blame them for everything really. They make his worthless life feel responsibility-free.
He looked at the little orange bottle and smirked, shaking it, watching the little white gems moving left and right… left and right..
The world decided to spin on him that moment, Lucy, where was Lucy?
“luccceee… Luceee…” the words came out broken
static was filling up his head now, pain, pain, pain… Hello intolerable pain, he laughed manically and it seemed like a distant voice, not his own.
A white angel with red flaming hair guided him to something soft, he smiled in gratitude, the angel with flaming red hair placed something small in his sweaty palm. Her blurry white shadow came closer, heated words blew up in his consciousness
“Take your damn pills, old man.”
Feisty red headed angel, or devil, can’t really tell anymore. Is there much of a difference anyway?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
I want LSD.
LSD, you know Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds AKA Lysergic Acid Diethylamide. Has any one ever wanted a hallucinogenic purely because everything around them was boring to the point that you need drugs to stimulate your limbic system and over excite your dopaminergic neurons just so you can feel something slightly different and exciting.
And then a question presented itself in my mind: Is this how people get into drugs? Because they got really impossibly bored with their own lives? I wonder.
Sad times for humanity.
I was bored not because I had nothing to do, I had plenty to do, but nothing stimulated my interest any more. I had drawn a blank. Everything just seems so blah and tiresome- Anyway back to the point, so drugees of the world? Were you all just bored?
Hmmmm, maybe someday they will find a gene that says you predispositioned to be a drugee. What? There is a god gene or have you not heard? Keep up with your science.
And then a question presented itself in my mind: Is this how people get into drugs? Because they got really impossibly bored with their own lives? I wonder.
Sad times for humanity.
I was bored not because I had nothing to do, I had plenty to do, but nothing stimulated my interest any more. I had drawn a blank. Everything just seems so blah and tiresome- Anyway back to the point, so drugees of the world? Were you all just bored?
Hmmmm, maybe someday they will find a gene that says you predispositioned to be a drugee. What? There is a god gene or have you not heard? Keep up with your science.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Ahhh! To be young and stupidly, ridiculously, helplessly in love, or confused, whichever,
I guess our ship has sailed, ey?
I guess its that “we believe in everything pure” age, isn’t it? Kind of? Its that age where your in the inbetween, when your halfway grown up but not quite, when you still see the best in everything without having to try. It’s the age when your holding on to the last scraps of truth you think you have, you believe in love most importantly you believe that love can in fact conquer all, and with that believe you conquer all. All it really takes is this unwavering resilient belief in the devine and then everything else follows, or you will force it to follow with pure belief.
Those 16 year olds don’t really think about the future, they don’t think love will fail them, their not really afraid of getting hurt cause they’ve never really experienced heart break. Whats money, financial security, family issues? Its a lot to us but not much to them, they’ve never been poor or close to poor.
Stupid 16 year-olds and their stupid strong spirited uncrushed nature. Having lasting love lives, well most of you anyway…
I swear I have like 3 friends that I can remember off the top of my head that met their better half around the age of 16, and guess what, were all 20 now and they are still together MASHALLAH.
Maybe we should start thinking like foolish 16 year olds? Just a thought.
Oh yes, and a very happy new year to everyone.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Darkness,
In the darkness of my own exile I whispered, as if writing a letter in my head, a letter to no one really. Dear darkness, the words come out jagged, I have a confession to make, the words are fearless and defiant, all those times I pushed you away and kept you at the edge of my world I never realized how much of a friend you really were and I do apologize, the words come out apologetic.
Dear darkness, I want you to know, when I am scared I try to find you within myself and I take refugee like a coward.
You have encouraged my cowardice.
Now I just run, I run to you. I self-destruct just so I can be enveloped by, so I can become you.
Dear darkness, I have made you my saviour, and I shall repent all my sins and hide where the righteous cant find me and the light wont burn me.
Dear darkness, I always end up here, at this point in time, every time, running circles and triangles and squares around the same bare dark area I always come back to, at this point in time, every time, until time makes no sense anymore.
And everything I’ve ever done makes no sense, but its ok, the darkness makes sense.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Days.
195 days of you.
195 days of me.
195 days of us.
195 days of nothingness.
It feels like a fairy tale, it looks like a fairy tale.
It walks, talks, dances like a fairy tale.
Doesnt make it a fairy tale- Makes it a chicken.
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