I don’t sleep.
I just sit in my car watching condensation turn into frost on the car parked next to me through semi-translucent wisps of smoke, pondering why I’m not sleeping.
Somewhere in the middle of giving advice to those with lost faith in love and continuing down this path of solitude, my thoughts dart back and forth between cursing my biological proclivity to need rest, and my psychological inclination not to sleep.
I walk wearily alone, accompanied by a powerfully paralyzing paradox.
So I don’t sleep. I just listen to the voices in my head. Since I have an acrid distaste for arguments, I ignore those voices once they begin debating and zone out to some music. Eventually that sparks thoughts too. Usually about the same time my cigarette burns out and I start to wonder why I’m smoking again.
I’m already in the car. I figure I could either ignite it and drive to the gym, or not, and stroll back into my room and continue giving advice on love eternal. I figure I could also pen a blog or two whilst chatting the night away with the lady loveless.
She’s lovely. She really does deserve the best. Were I emotionally available, I’d probably try to give it to her. But she probably wouldn’t notice, and I would find myself with a longer list of women I should’ve just left alone.
The fact that I’m musing this concerns me because somewhere on another tectonic plate there is a woman. She would’ve been the woman I would’ve married. But circumstance drew us apart. Tradition carved a crevice so deep in the ground that holding hands as the distance grew between us would be futile unless she jumped onto my glacier so that we could float away.
But she didn’t jump. Which is probably for the better because Lord knows this little block of ice of mine will melt. Plus there are no beds on this block. Just a computer, a studio, art supplies and books.
And my car.
And this pack of cigarettes that I promise to not touch. At least for the next fortnight.
The upside to being awake though, is not dreaming. I think it was Anatole France who once rambled about how dreams liberate the lucid revolutionary mind. Dreams also provide an escape for those looking for one.
I’m tired of running away from problems. Procrastinating and pushing things to tomorrow. When your days run into each other, tomorrow is today. It might as well have been yesterday because you’ve seen the patterns clear enough to be able to predict just how the days will unfold. You’ve watched enough people to understand just how they will react. You begin conversations knowing you can almost control the flow, and their outcomes. It’s like being an architect in a real life Matrix. Or like being a really good fortune-teller. Or mind-reader.
Yet I can’t read her mind. And I do not know what the future holds for me.
Two mysteries should not try and solve each other.
It’s almost 3am. For some reason I volunteered to work tomorrow. Or today. I forget what to call it. Anyhow, that means I should be asleep so I can wake up on time. But it’s late. For most that means get in bed and doze now.
For me, that means “Which book can I read and finish before the sun rises?”
I’ve found a book. I’m going for it.
A word of advise to the hesitant: there are more than 4 dimensions.
In all practicality you are only somewhat knowledgable of 3, and vaguely aware of the fourth.
That vague awareness must stop. We all need to be very intuned to the fact that time is indeed the determining factor of what our realities will be. We have the choice between being and having what we want, or letting it pass. It is a a choice that passiveness cannot make for us.
Sitting back hoping while staring at the world on the silver platter in front of you is essentially what 99% of the world does. This is why most of them get mad when some person reaches out and grabs the world off that platter and milks it for what it’s worth.
Granted, the milking takes a little bit of viciousness, but the grabbing part is effortless. If you know what you want and it’s offered to you, not saying yes is probably worse than saying no.
Reason being when you don’t say anything, it means you meant to say yes, but couldn’t. For whatever reason, you didn’t. And now, you must sit there and watch the tray, and he who bore it vanish into the shadows in hopes that they shall return again. Not only will you be hoping, but you will be bashing yourself. If you said yes, or no, you made a decision and you can live with that a whole lot easier.
But just as that video illustrated, we only see cross-sections of the actual reality of things. If that opportunity were to be represented by a person, hand stretched out, with your dream in his palm, and time began to pass, and all you did was stare….
He would disappear.
And looking for him would probably be one of the most futile endeavors one can possibly conceive unless you are a time traveller. It has nothing to do with patience or will. The world and fate want you to win, everyone, good or bad, is there to help. All you have to is receive. But then again, it is vital to remember that people have a purpose. And their purpose is not to help other people. That is an assigned role that only lasts as long as the recepient allows. All we have to do is learn when to say yes.
Denial in one sense is denial in any other.
We all get a chance to seize everything we’ve ever wanted, at some time or another.
It would be wise to do so before that chance passes.
Before that bearer of good deed vanishes.
I believe that, in great spite of my insurmountable skepticism, there may be some good people out there.
But I also believe that I don’t really know that many, nor do I care for the majority.
I know beyond any shadow of doubt that I’m not one of them, nor do I aspire to be one.
But in the same light, I wish them no ills or harms.
I just think that it would be in both our interests if they steered clear of me and I did the same. Ultimately pointless purpose interaction is seldom worth the stress it inevitably bears.
Besides, I’ve got shit to do.
“I don’t put my cards on the table, because I lost my Queen of Hearts.”
I miss you.
On Sunday, it’ll be 2 years since I watched you breathe your last breaths, and left teary kisses on your cold hands.
2 whole years since I lost my little sister.
It still hurts the same.
The title of this blog almost dictates that I should speak on this man.
Today marks the 23rd Martin Luther King Day, a national holiday in these states, united as they claim to be. For the multitude of recitations, renditions, reverberations, and regurgitations that Martin’s famous speech got, little has changed in the minds of the people. On the eve of the inauguration of the first African-American Kenyan Black President in these same states, we still experience some perversely disgusting atrocities in the name of “ignorance and racism” but under the blankets of free-speech and freedom at large. Read the rest of this entry »
When both arms on the clock are dangling around the 6, the decision to forego sleep is no longer yours.
Good morning. I’d like to thank the random spike in readers I had yesterday. 4 rantss in and no publicity, I did not expect nearly that many hits. Even if you don’t return, you made me feel like punching buttons on the keyboard means something to somebody else. For a person who feeds off other people’s energies, I truly appreciate that. Read the rest of this entry »
“At the top will be the same place you hang from.”-Nasir Jones
I was quite a few months shy of 17 when I permanently moved out of my mother’s house. For the outsiders looking in, they thought it was a perfect scenario and that I was the luckiest person in the world. It’s funny how the glaring truth always gets refracted by human perception. Read the rest of this entry »
“A brief stroll through a lunatic asylum shows that faith proves nothing.”
Nietzsche told me 2 things when I was first introduced to him. First, the Z comes before the S. Secondly, the above quote. Read the rest of this entry »
Here’s something I’ve never said outloud.
I had ambitions of law enforcement, once upon my youth. It was a very brief, very vivid, explosive dream and phase.
Then I received my first standard police issue beatdown. Read the rest of this entry »
I’m borderline insomniac. Definitely, I suffer from some sleep disorder, I just never bothered to find out which one. When the doc said “Chronic Secondary Insomnia”, I tilted my head and gave him a sarcastic sideways nod.
My problem is not only that I can’t sleep; it’s that when I do sleep, I struggle to wake up. I’m either floating on fatigue or drowning in my dreams. Read the rest of this entry »