yeah so i've been trying to keep busy. reaquainting myself with an old friend and well apparently breaking an old girlfriend's heart yet again. how i did this i'm not sure. c'est la vie.
trying to start playing hockey again. man i love going wicked fast down the ice. it almost feels like your flying. the wind whipping at you, going way faster than you can ever run; there's a certain poetry to it all. or have i gone jock? lol. no dears i'm trying to beat down this beast of depression. trying to fall back in with life but i think i'd have to learn how to trust it again.
after eating, during which time i'd some lovely harps dark lager which is equsite tasting(the food was shit but i wanted to smoke while i ate though so...), my friend and i hit up the blockbuster next door. the weather here's lovely by the way...say about negative forty right now. well there's the movie i have wanted to add to my collection--stranger than fiction. can't wait to watch it again. and so we're walking up the check out and i see what appears to be a cute girl at one of the registers and i'm thinking please dear god please let us be rung out by her. and sure enough. and then something starnge happens... she's not cute she's smoking god damn incredible. and her eyes. my god those eyes. she sort of looked like kate beckingsale but with a redish almost pink hair color. this tantalizing skin. a nice little lip piercing. and those eyes. and i open up the speech. the flashing of my feathers and....where did it all go? have i, could i have lost my ability to woo? or is it i'm thinking five motnhs and i'm of this shit hole and back to where...well now i'm thinking quite possibly michigan's a possibility but it won't get this cold.
but man. i used to never give a fuck if a girl wasn't interested. well maybe a few times cause i was a bit saucey and horny and batting about in a lower league. but that was just the youthful i'll fuck anything that moves(i have fortunately been blessed by some sort of mechanism that does not allow my penis to work if deep down i know it's not right). the days when every party and club was like a candy store. but i guess i sort of figure i need to get more out of life than being a writer of love poems on so many bodies they become almost anonymous. feeling bad because another one's got my attention and well i couldn't help myself. at least i felt i was being sincere.
then came the time when i wanted something to last. and something was in the mix and the fucking meat cleaver she used tore a large gaping hole in me heart. and so i figure, what the fuck, it's just karma right? and so i took the beating i felt in stride, feeling it like any good suffering pennant. it must have been the catholic childhood in me. but suffice to say, i worked a bit of magic life got all sorts of tragic and just like that i got my head shaved and was learning how to kill people.
and it never quite feels right. a few starts but for me i think i need the contact; the ability to express myself with touching and tongue. thus the long distance thing can't and won't work for me. but here now comes the conundrum. she's as any song goes and that's a scary thought a sure sign something uncontrollable is happening. but let us apply breaks when we must remember that yes i am crazy. that's just reality. not in the can i follow you around because i can't no for an answer kind of crazy, but the good old dsm kinda crazy--certified.
i can't resist a certain obsession with stories and words and things of aesthic nature and really it might be quite a sight to see me in truely creative mood. i have not allowed these to truely occur because, well i'm in the army kids and i get moody and well to say it plainly when i'm inside the story going on my head i'm not quite in reality so much so as in a sort of dream state. and well....i'd just like to know who could deal with me? someone quite able to take care of and be there for someone except at certain moments of crisis(the plural form please) where the doubt henry james spoke about turns a dark world darker, like a giant can of black paint tossed about everything. doubt doubt doubt. incredulously weaving a stupifying mind fuck. ugh. shit man. i need to listen to some dark as head on the door cure.
peace fuck sticks and fuck stickettes,
chris
trying to start playing hockey again. man i love going wicked fast down the ice. it almost feels like your flying. the wind whipping at you, going way faster than you can ever run; there's a certain poetry to it all. or have i gone jock? lol. no dears i'm trying to beat down this beast of depression. trying to fall back in with life but i think i'd have to learn how to trust it again.
after eating, during which time i'd some lovely harps dark lager which is equsite tasting(the food was shit but i wanted to smoke while i ate though so...), my friend and i hit up the blockbuster next door. the weather here's lovely by the way...say about negative forty right now. well there's the movie i have wanted to add to my collection--stranger than fiction. can't wait to watch it again. and so we're walking up the check out and i see what appears to be a cute girl at one of the registers and i'm thinking please dear god please let us be rung out by her. and sure enough. and then something starnge happens... she's not cute she's smoking god damn incredible. and her eyes. my god those eyes. she sort of looked like kate beckingsale but with a redish almost pink hair color. this tantalizing skin. a nice little lip piercing. and those eyes. and i open up the speech. the flashing of my feathers and....where did it all go? have i, could i have lost my ability to woo? or is it i'm thinking five motnhs and i'm of this shit hole and back to where...well now i'm thinking quite possibly michigan's a possibility but it won't get this cold.
but man. i used to never give a fuck if a girl wasn't interested. well maybe a few times cause i was a bit saucey and horny and batting about in a lower league. but that was just the youthful i'll fuck anything that moves(i have fortunately been blessed by some sort of mechanism that does not allow my penis to work if deep down i know it's not right). the days when every party and club was like a candy store. but i guess i sort of figure i need to get more out of life than being a writer of love poems on so many bodies they become almost anonymous. feeling bad because another one's got my attention and well i couldn't help myself. at least i felt i was being sincere.
then came the time when i wanted something to last. and something was in the mix and the fucking meat cleaver she used tore a large gaping hole in me heart. and so i figure, what the fuck, it's just karma right? and so i took the beating i felt in stride, feeling it like any good suffering pennant. it must have been the catholic childhood in me. but suffice to say, i worked a bit of magic life got all sorts of tragic and just like that i got my head shaved and was learning how to kill people.
and it never quite feels right. a few starts but for me i think i need the contact; the ability to express myself with touching and tongue. thus the long distance thing can't and won't work for me. but here now comes the conundrum. she's as any song goes and that's a scary thought a sure sign something uncontrollable is happening. but let us apply breaks when we must remember that yes i am crazy. that's just reality. not in the can i follow you around because i can't no for an answer kind of crazy, but the good old dsm kinda crazy--certified.
i can't resist a certain obsession with stories and words and things of aesthic nature and really it might be quite a sight to see me in truely creative mood. i have not allowed these to truely occur because, well i'm in the army kids and i get moody and well to say it plainly when i'm inside the story going on my head i'm not quite in reality so much so as in a sort of dream state. and well....i'd just like to know who could deal with me? someone quite able to take care of and be there for someone except at certain moments of crisis(the plural form please) where the doubt henry james spoke about turns a dark world darker, like a giant can of black paint tossed about everything. doubt doubt doubt. incredulously weaving a stupifying mind fuck. ugh. shit man. i need to listen to some dark as head on the door cure.
peace fuck sticks and fuck stickettes,
chris
Don't worry about a damn thing. Nobody dies lonely.
Someone's out there! For you! I promise!