disynthetic

TALKIN' BOUT YER SOUL.

I KNOW WHERE IT IZ.

I SHOW U.

When I made your soul on Thanksgiving -- I was actually going to send it to you. So I kept it around. BUT THENNNNNNN I needed a notecard for my cookie recipe, and didn't realized I'd grabbed your soul, and, and .. so. I wrote down the ingredients on the other side and flipped it over to write the baking instructions and was like, OH NOOOOES. But it was too late. :/

So I stapled another card to it, sam'miching the soul inside. And wrote the 'structions on the outside of that one.

So it is inside!

Pointing fingers at various other people and things doesn't detract scrutiny or attention as well as you'd believe. So while you may have been doing this on some level, .. well. Like you said. It's a kid's trick. We've all done it, we all do it, and everyone is similarly keen to it. Sometimes that is even more transparent than talking forwardly and straight about yourself.

I have some bones, however. Probably 206 of them. A few, I have to pick with you. Such as .. your recent need to not only dissect your actions and motives behind them, but completely tear these things limb from limb because they are somehow either not good enough, or actually -bad.-

So, first. Not writing to entertain? On the one hand, I want to say, all writing is meant .. to a point, to entertain. I suppose. Depends on definitions. Otherwise you wouldn't take care to polish things, wouldn't string your words a certain way, and -- PAUSE. Actually, didn't one of your last blogs talk about how you play -too- much to other readers? Yeah. So you're obviously talking about the other kind of entertain .. the more Disney kind.

And how many people do you think have to set out to do this? Is that really where you are, right now, that you are lamenting not sitting down and just drawing up stories for people? What could you write that would be SOLELY entertainment and WITHOUT any other motive in it that would serve you at the same time. Storytellers [and the like] are just telling parts of their own, or manipulating an audience. It's still catharsis. What's so altruistic --

Anyway. Don't tear your writing apart. Especially if this is like a journal to you. You could go through six months where all you did was bitch or scream about something, and as long as it was true to what was going on, who could fault you? Until you intentionally wrote something with a different tone just to misdirect.

As far as aiming to impress people -- that starts to chip away at any honesty, so unconcern yourself with it. That's not your doing anyway -- it happens or it doesn't.

I'm sleepy, and I'm not sure of any sense in anything I just said. But it makes sense in my head.

Funny. I do have thoughts on the parallels people draw with those behaviors .. in order to allow for some of it, and how they don't actually allow for the truth of the matter.

Such as, re: BDSM. They can allow for "bondage" if it's a "kink" but in their heads, it's only okay if it's something you experiment with. If they're liberal, it can be hot, but it's suddenly not okay as soon as it's a lifestyle or something you're really into. A fetish. You're a freak.

Drinking is okay if it's social. It's not okay if it's a lifestyle because then it's a crutch. You're addicted. You're sick.

A lot of people can even understand if you went through a period of self-destruction, be it an eating disorder or light cutting [where the scars are invisible six months later] at some point in adolescence or young-adulthood. These things happen. But if -you- have accepted it as a lifestyle and a coping mechanism .. it is frightening and upsetting, rejected, .. a different animal. Not a fluke.

These things are only okay as rogue instances. If they can be dismissed. If they might not be there the next week. But when you can promise they will be -- it's a hard pill for the other person to look at straight and still swallow.

Yes. Yes!

Dude, next time I say "let's play hookey" -- let's go to Seattle. Because, I'm glad you understand what I mean.

Less inner noise. These other things going on in the atmosphere that ring with your bones and your blood. I love the culture there. I like the life on the streets and the fish markets and the locks and the coast and the ships on the horizon. I like that it's all real, whereas in Ohio, first of all .. there is nothing even comparable. We have nothing that is ours. But if there is anything to be found, it is plastic and replicated. It is something that someone saw somewhere and reproduced on a smaller scale .. It's a lamenant of a real thing. I want the real thing -- it tastes and smells and feels better. First thing in the morning.

There would be mountains. There would be .. things! There are no things here. Truly there aren't. We have parks, and I love parks, but that's all there is.

I love rain. Like someone else said -- they can't knock it because it helps them paint? It helps me write, it helps me think. It helps me calm down. I get very anxious or overly hyped in the sun sometimes. I can do rain. It lulls me [does not lulz me].

There is wildlife. Different wildlife. Big wildlife, and oceanic. There are aquariums! There are sealions! Ugh. And I'd be walking in puddles of coffee. ;]

Yeah. This just isn't the place for me.

I do want and need to get away from winter. My friend [from SG] doesn't live in LA, she lives in Sacramento. .. which is nine hours north of LA. She hates LA too -- says it's just way too much for her, vapid, etc. There's more culture and a laid back atmosphere in Sacramento, and it's more affordable. So I'd consider it. I really don't understand where that'd put me in relation to Washington, because it's so different from the east coast [where driving four hours puts you in at least one other state, if not three].

But.

But.

Yeah.

I have thought of, fuck, going to Europe or something [who does that? People, I guess -- but I certainly couldn't in reality -- just that no state was far enough]. Everything is so hostile here, and I think it's really just.. going to stay that way. It's a fog and it's as simple as stepping out of it. I'm not all jammed up -- it's just the air, y'know? -I'm- fine. :/ I don't want to get to the point where I do stop moving, though, and settle into the fog.

I always find myself with things on the tip of my tongue as I'm walking out the door.

Like now.

Nothing really heavy or even really answer-shaped. I am actually just curious about things. Also, .. not large things. But regarding the blog. Ish.

Fuck, headache. Cannot .. coexist with .. articulate .. thought.

Kbye.

I think I've still got a shot. -_-;

Coffeeresponsetime.