been awhile since i've posted. life outside of this blog and head have taken control and am travelling on that journey. it's fun and confusing and disorientating and i probably should get back into the swing of sitting here and writing some more. did rediscover an old poem that has been edited by my friend michael farrell. other than that i've been debating with myself over whether i'm more inclined to monogamy, polygamy or whether i should just go asexual and live and write all my fantasies out here and share them with the world. i guess i'm not really asexual if i've made out with people and slept with them but there's still the fear of commiting to one person/ one moment and dealing with the fact that committing to one thing means that i miss out on a range of potential experiences. maybe that's the beauty and the role the net and myspace/blogs play we can live vicarously through others and the others know it.
alternatively maybe i am just like every other predominately straight guy a committment phobic arsehole? maybe i'm more married to the idea of control and power and privelege than i like to think and pretend? maybe i'm just being too honest and harsh on myself and too scared of following my heart through? maybe i'm just over rationalising? maybe i'm on a course trying to alienate everyone so i can be left alone by myself to wallow in self pity and to live out a dark and violent heart. to place the blame on the world as a means of not taking responsibility for my own actions. maybe i'm really self centred and narcissitic like all wannabe artists? maybe i'm just full of shit and should just shut the fuck up? maybe i'm to aware of the fact that ultimately every moment ends and can never be recaptured and i'm living in permanent mourning over this? i don't fucken know. this is so nihilistic and confusing it's infruiating but i guess at least it's honest. enjoy the poem. fuck the preamble.
THE COMFORT OF WORDS (two portraits)
I lie
in bed,
the
rain dripping
down the
window,
imagining
a world where
Sara is not
heart broken
and I am not
the arsehole who
broke it.
I lie
with pillow
between
my legs
waiting for
them to
become hot
and sticky.
alternatively maybe i am just like every other predominately straight guy a committment phobic arsehole? maybe i'm more married to the idea of control and power and privelege than i like to think and pretend? maybe i'm just being too honest and harsh on myself and too scared of following my heart through? maybe i'm just over rationalising? maybe i'm on a course trying to alienate everyone so i can be left alone by myself to wallow in self pity and to live out a dark and violent heart. to place the blame on the world as a means of not taking responsibility for my own actions. maybe i'm really self centred and narcissitic like all wannabe artists? maybe i'm just full of shit and should just shut the fuck up? maybe i'm to aware of the fact that ultimately every moment ends and can never be recaptured and i'm living in permanent mourning over this? i don't fucken know. this is so nihilistic and confusing it's infruiating but i guess at least it's honest. enjoy the poem. fuck the preamble.
THE COMFORT OF WORDS (two portraits)
I lie
in bed,
the
rain dripping
down the
window,
imagining
a world where
Sara is not
heart broken
and I am not
the arsehole who
broke it.
I lie
with pillow
between
my legs
waiting for
them to
become hot
and sticky.
posted by paradigm at 1:29 PM
3 Comments:
hah scout, what a cool post! the poems not bad either.
maybe - just maybe - you should re-write all the maybe statements as their complete opposites, to see how that feels?
maybe i'm on a course trying to alienate everyone so i can be left alone by myself to wallow in self pity and to live out a dark and violent heart.
=
"maybe it's not self pity and a dark and violent heart, maybe i'm not living in the fucking "dark crystal" or whatever that movie with muppets was, not the labyrinth, the other one, after all, and theres really no need to wallow when theres so much alcohol to drink and so many drugs to take"
ps - committing to one thing means that i miss out on a range of potential experiences
is entirely about fear scout - but you knew that, right?
BTW - maybe that's the beauty and the role the net and myspace/blogs play we can live vicarously through others and the others know it.
- are you talking about me ;-)
it does feel weird to suddenly be "blogging" about stuff i'd normally say... god, how over blogs are you??
yeah. explosion not introversion and introspection... i should learn to look on the bright side of life right. self destruction aint good if it makes you sad and beside a day or two has made me rethink things. still need your ears but will tell stuff this arvo.
the blogger phenomen i think has to do with the fact that it's a way in which people can own their own mental space, let people come in and see it if they invite the person there and not have to overly worry about repercussions about things breaking or housemates not liking that person or any other social pressure that arises when in close proximity of actual people. it's a reclamation of our minds just to paraphrase FUGAZI.
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