Wednesday, 9/22 8:14pm
Sitting on the couch after a semi-long drive home, and I'm watching some physicist's show called "The Wonders of the Universe." I'm more interested in meeting a friend at the bar for some beers. I know that's not going to be much fun though. Drinking is only any fun with people I can trust, these days. And there aren't many of those people still around. You could say that burning bridges was a prolific part of my past because I gravitated toward people going down bad roads. They were more fun, it seemed then, and now it goes without saying that it's hard to let go completely. These impulses rear their ugly head from time to time. I think it's just a remnant of my naive optimism about anyone who liked to get fucked up and have a good time at the bar. Like I always did. Those people just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their loss, I think.
And so new bridges get harder to build the more you've destroyed. New bridges on new shores, so to speak. What might be my biggest concern would be my worrying over the next time I horribly misjudge a person, will it set these "new shores" to light as well? Sometimes alcohol tastes just like poison when I think about the things I have let it do to my life. Does that make you wonder who is really in control? I do. Hell, it makes me wonder why I still play with fire. So to speak.
They say we're guided by our hearts and disciplined by our convictions. Now that makes sense to me. In that I know it sounds good on paper, but in practice, I can say without hesitation that I am predominantly guided by my heart. The wayward, blind, confused, immature, unrefined heart that it is. It lets me do things, no, makes me do things that defy logic and reason. My own damn convictions are powerless. I'd rather have a moment of shared ecstasy with another soul than make anything last. That takes work and something about my heart is lazy I guess. Somewhere along the way I started believing that nothing lasts forever. And after awhile I just shortened it to nothing lasts. More likely I have not been proven wrong yet.
There's no such thing as self medication. It's a misnomer. Self medication is a placeholder, a euphemism, for self-destruction. These are the day to day thoughts I have about what it is to burn.
These are just a series of blurbs on my blog. My mind is busier than it needs to be, right now. I should go do something physical now. I have no idea what. But it shuts my mind up
Sitting on the couch after a semi-long drive home, and I'm watching some physicist's show called "The Wonders of the Universe." I'm more interested in meeting a friend at the bar for some beers. I know that's not going to be much fun though. Drinking is only any fun with people I can trust, these days. And there aren't many of those people still around. You could say that burning bridges was a prolific part of my past because I gravitated toward people going down bad roads. They were more fun, it seemed then, and now it goes without saying that it's hard to let go completely. These impulses rear their ugly head from time to time. I think it's just a remnant of my naive optimism about anyone who liked to get fucked up and have a good time at the bar. Like I always did. Those people just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their loss, I think.
And so new bridges get harder to build the more you've destroyed. New bridges on new shores, so to speak. What might be my biggest concern would be my worrying over the next time I horribly misjudge a person, will it set these "new shores" to light as well? Sometimes alcohol tastes just like poison when I think about the things I have let it do to my life. Does that make you wonder who is really in control? I do. Hell, it makes me wonder why I still play with fire. So to speak.
They say we're guided by our hearts and disciplined by our convictions. Now that makes sense to me. In that I know it sounds good on paper, but in practice, I can say without hesitation that I am predominantly guided by my heart. The wayward, blind, confused, immature, unrefined heart that it is. It lets me do things, no, makes me do things that defy logic and reason. My own damn convictions are powerless. I'd rather have a moment of shared ecstasy with another soul than make anything last. That takes work and something about my heart is lazy I guess. Somewhere along the way I started believing that nothing lasts forever. And after awhile I just shortened it to nothing lasts. More likely I have not been proven wrong yet.
There's no such thing as self medication. It's a misnomer. Self medication is a placeholder, a euphemism, for self-destruction. These are the day to day thoughts I have about what it is to burn.
These are just a series of blurbs on my blog. My mind is busier than it needs to be, right now. I should go do something physical now. I have no idea what. But it shuts my mind up
THAT .. was a blast from the past. Holy cow. Always weird to read those things.
But embarrassed? Nah. Though it's hard to say -- you're all the way at the beginning. Just how much -have- you read? Either way, I'm flattered at the placement, and I'll take it. :]
You, on the other hand, are killing me with this hourly-blog-rate .. if I have any chance of responding to the things that set off little flags in my mind.