I was so disappointed by my lack of inspiration that I just frustratedly started writing more.
Words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, books, libraries, all of it, garbage. Burn them shits down.
Oh god...I've lost the faith, that one thing I swore by is gone. The game has been played, the rules have changed.
Where is my head going? I better not stop, I better not look back in two minutes and say "this is too much" and delete it.
Like I said, words, sentences. Lost. Gone.
Destroyed, evaporated by me. I wish I could tell you the whole story. I wish I could tell you all the stories.
Well, whats stopping me?
I don't really know per se. It's a lot harder to be so open and honest these days, like I said. Xanga is Dead.
But i'm not.
I lost that faith in other people, it happens to us all doesn't it? I know i've done a lot of "bad shit" in my time, but it was all in good fun.
Now it's just math and science, the game we all know and play so well. Whatever, I'm rambling, do me a favor, be yourself and ignore this.
I'm just spouting nonsense.
I'm thinking of a number between one and ten.
Guess which one it is.
I'm thinking of the cold, I'm thinking I want to be anywhere but here. I'm thinking these a new level of magic to be discovered.
Brand new numbers and colors, new secret sights, the world is always changing, and evolving, and the horizion comes in digital and horizontal.
This reminds me, one night during this epic bout of crazy high sex, I had a vision. I don't know where my head was, but something opened up my imagination to a strange and beautiful view of the world that I fought hard to keep with me ever since. Where is this coming from? Oh, a story no one knows, how odd. Anyway. I had a vision, a couple of visions, that all ment something, they came to me like a pure vision, so crystalized, like memories of things I'd already done in some sort of past life.
For one thing, the very first vision I had was that I would indeed have sex with an Olsen Twin, I won't say which one, but you can pretty much guess. I mean theres only two. It was like images, flashing bold and hard in my mind, flash bang pop. Me and her, colliding in some strange scene, everything black and white, everything black and white. What did that particular dream mean? I don't know. The second one was better.
The second flash had me in some sort of Japanese futuristic robo slum. The future was there and already demolished, think about it, all those new shiny toys and gadgets are only as good as the moment you use em, once they're replaced they complicated paper weights, ask your CD Player, shit, ask your walkman, ask your Game Boy Pocket. That Japanese city was gorgeous though, I was right at home, everything was perfectly flawed, and yet still so incredibly cool it must've been a metaphor for the world at large, something cool like that. Am I rambling? No i'm fine and even if it was rambled it wouldn't matter, i'm pulling this out of my head. Look at me stack these words, cut them up for you and reassemble them into a meaningless stream of consciousness that some people will gladly glance over and convince me it's cool.
And thats fine.
The other vision had me far away from the Japanese robo ghetto and in some sort of Cherry Blossom orchard, there was water everywhere barely covering the grass, the weather was awesomely warm and everything felt right. In this place I watched the sun rise through the trees and stood there, basking in it, taking it all in. The colors were warm and muted, honey glazed oranges mixing up with reassuring greens, the sky had given way to the new sun, rising up in the land of the rising sun. How strange how far my mind took me on its own that day.
What were the lights like that night? What music were we playing? I can't seem to remember, but I had more visions, one was that I was running, getting chased by the cops through the back roads of some crazy village in the East, I have a lot of dreams where I'm running. I also recently had a dream where I was almost struck by lightning, and it was so vivid, I can see such images and colors, bright ones. It's gnarly.
I took a break from writing this, I got into a couple of distractions, it's a Saturday night and I'm in, it's 11:33 and I didn't go out. I didn't make too many plans, I didn't really feel that mood ya know? Sometimes the party gets stale and you don't wanna do it. Sometimes it takes a lot of energy to go with that flow when you want to turn the tide.
Sometimes.
My thoughts are getting convoluted, my imagination is running away with me and just like that I spring up to turn off the lights, draw the shades and let the darkness erase everything I can see.
Everything except this. This infinite white space that I spend far too much time gazing into. I should flip the colors, make the text white and the field black, that way it would look like I'm writing against the depths of nothingness, the universe. This white I'm writing on is too pure, it's not honest. Maybe thats just me, maybe I'm that tragic flawed hero whos downfall will be well known, widely accepted but hardly believed. Maybe I'm just too dramatic, maybe, who know? I don't even know where this narrative is going, I'm just doing it to do it.
Writing has never been a pleasurable thing for me. It comes so easily though, I wish these words were worth more. Writing alone isn't fun at all, imagine me right now, i'm sitting here in the big green chair (you've sat in this right?) in the dark, no lazer on, just typing away, letter after letter after letter after letter, space letter after letter after letter, space space space. Exclaimation mark, comma. Stuff like that.
Right now though, I'm at that moment I've tried to hard to get away from. See, I know the truth, this moment I have right now is absolute real life, the party is over, the beautiful women have all waved good bye and I'm getting old. I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore, I just know that I'm harder to console. That's true. Depeche have never spoken truer words. They've seemed to have captured this feeling, this feeling of dark, hollow loneliness that can be so refreshing, no stopping, no going, just an instamatic view of oblivion. This moment that I have right now is the everlasting now, the big problem, consciousness, life death and rebirth.
And just like that...the song changes.
I stop.
I wrote a lot didn't I? Sorry if I didn't put enough sex and drugs in there.
Words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, books, libraries, all of it, garbage. Burn them shits down.
Oh god...I've lost the faith, that one thing I swore by is gone. The game has been played, the rules have changed.
Where is my head going? I better not stop, I better not look back in two minutes and say "this is too much" and delete it.
Like I said, words, sentences. Lost. Gone.
Destroyed, evaporated by me. I wish I could tell you the whole story. I wish I could tell you all the stories.
Well, whats stopping me?
I don't really know per se. It's a lot harder to be so open and honest these days, like I said. Xanga is Dead.
But i'm not.
I lost that faith in other people, it happens to us all doesn't it? I know i've done a lot of "bad shit" in my time, but it was all in good fun.
Now it's just math and science, the game we all know and play so well. Whatever, I'm rambling, do me a favor, be yourself and ignore this.
I'm just spouting nonsense.
I'm thinking of a number between one and ten.
Guess which one it is.
I'm thinking of the cold, I'm thinking I want to be anywhere but here. I'm thinking these a new level of magic to be discovered.
Brand new numbers and colors, new secret sights, the world is always changing, and evolving, and the horizion comes in digital and horizontal.
This reminds me, one night during this epic bout of crazy high sex, I had a vision. I don't know where my head was, but something opened up my imagination to a strange and beautiful view of the world that I fought hard to keep with me ever since. Where is this coming from? Oh, a story no one knows, how odd. Anyway. I had a vision, a couple of visions, that all ment something, they came to me like a pure vision, so crystalized, like memories of things I'd already done in some sort of past life.
For one thing, the very first vision I had was that I would indeed have sex with an Olsen Twin, I won't say which one, but you can pretty much guess. I mean theres only two. It was like images, flashing bold and hard in my mind, flash bang pop. Me and her, colliding in some strange scene, everything black and white, everything black and white. What did that particular dream mean? I don't know. The second one was better.
The second flash had me in some sort of Japanese futuristic robo slum. The future was there and already demolished, think about it, all those new shiny toys and gadgets are only as good as the moment you use em, once they're replaced they complicated paper weights, ask your CD Player, shit, ask your walkman, ask your Game Boy Pocket. That Japanese city was gorgeous though, I was right at home, everything was perfectly flawed, and yet still so incredibly cool it must've been a metaphor for the world at large, something cool like that. Am I rambling? No i'm fine and even if it was rambled it wouldn't matter, i'm pulling this out of my head. Look at me stack these words, cut them up for you and reassemble them into a meaningless stream of consciousness that some people will gladly glance over and convince me it's cool.
And thats fine.
The other vision had me far away from the Japanese robo ghetto and in some sort of Cherry Blossom orchard, there was water everywhere barely covering the grass, the weather was awesomely warm and everything felt right. In this place I watched the sun rise through the trees and stood there, basking in it, taking it all in. The colors were warm and muted, honey glazed oranges mixing up with reassuring greens, the sky had given way to the new sun, rising up in the land of the rising sun. How strange how far my mind took me on its own that day.
What were the lights like that night? What music were we playing? I can't seem to remember, but I had more visions, one was that I was running, getting chased by the cops through the back roads of some crazy village in the East, I have a lot of dreams where I'm running. I also recently had a dream where I was almost struck by lightning, and it was so vivid, I can see such images and colors, bright ones. It's gnarly.
I took a break from writing this, I got into a couple of distractions, it's a Saturday night and I'm in, it's 11:33 and I didn't go out. I didn't make too many plans, I didn't really feel that mood ya know? Sometimes the party gets stale and you don't wanna do it. Sometimes it takes a lot of energy to go with that flow when you want to turn the tide.
Sometimes.
My thoughts are getting convoluted, my imagination is running away with me and just like that I spring up to turn off the lights, draw the shades and let the darkness erase everything I can see.
Everything except this. This infinite white space that I spend far too much time gazing into. I should flip the colors, make the text white and the field black, that way it would look like I'm writing against the depths of nothingness, the universe. This white I'm writing on is too pure, it's not honest. Maybe thats just me, maybe I'm that tragic flawed hero whos downfall will be well known, widely accepted but hardly believed. Maybe I'm just too dramatic, maybe, who know? I don't even know where this narrative is going, I'm just doing it to do it.
Writing has never been a pleasurable thing for me. It comes so easily though, I wish these words were worth more. Writing alone isn't fun at all, imagine me right now, i'm sitting here in the big green chair (you've sat in this right?) in the dark, no lazer on, just typing away, letter after letter after letter after letter, space letter after letter after letter, space space space. Exclaimation mark, comma. Stuff like that.
Right now though, I'm at that moment I've tried to hard to get away from. See, I know the truth, this moment I have right now is absolute real life, the party is over, the beautiful women have all waved good bye and I'm getting old. I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore, I just know that I'm harder to console. That's true. Depeche have never spoken truer words. They've seemed to have captured this feeling, this feeling of dark, hollow loneliness that can be so refreshing, no stopping, no going, just an instamatic view of oblivion. This moment that I have right now is the everlasting now, the big problem, consciousness, life death and rebirth.
And just like that...the song changes.
I stop.
I wrote a lot didn't I? Sorry if I didn't put enough sex and drugs in there.