i'm no less of a man, to miss somebody
what could i write? type and list and post and quote and know? spent the day with tim in hyde park, scouting locations and finding places. settled on some things.
problems and problems and problems and no solutions to be found. problems problems everywhere and not a soul to tell. (incidentally, in case you're someone who feels you would like to be privy to such parts of my life...well you could do a better job asking.)
right now? a little C2H5OH (look it up, kiddos). a few too many memories. the off-track wishings for a wishing well, for the chance to actually get something without the work and the sacrifice and the degredation of all the other wishes that could never come true. hazy lazy peachy day, a sky the color of money, and the air as thick as raspberry jam slathered on her body in all the dreams that fell down the wishing well.
what are you doing? are you making fun of me? are you minding me, reminding me, thinking or dreaming of me? whirring through the days having forgotten all the times that should be worth a thought or two?
"you can never turn your back on your talent," the television just said to me. anybody want to guess what that talent was assumed to be? anybody want to guess how that assumption was dissolved and how it sifted through the slits and spaces through my fingers? anybody want to guess what it means to turn your back on your talent, not because of ignorance, but because you simply don't think you're good enough to endure the pains of it?
fly me to the moon and maybe i'll pick up some rocks, pack them up and amaze you with the immensity of my scientific knowledge. because, my dear, the moon is not made of cheese; rather broken dreams and hopes and wonderment, and all the things we turn to when we cannot bear to look upon the hurts that stain our clothes.
oh the smiles and the smiles and the ideas we like and love. we like the idea of liking. we like the idea of loving. we like and like and love and love and could have been so many things. such is the power of ideology. such is the power of hope. it just takes time to remember that ideas are seldom ideal. there's nothing more frustrating than feeling frustrated, don't you think?
alright life, come on already. i've had some ups, downs, laughs and the other stuff. but i've got a few more bumps to smooth out. and it's hard asking for help.
though we all like the idea of asking.
problems and problems and problems and no solutions to be found. problems problems everywhere and not a soul to tell. (incidentally, in case you're someone who feels you would like to be privy to such parts of my life...well you could do a better job asking.)
right now? a little C2H5OH (look it up, kiddos). a few too many memories. the off-track wishings for a wishing well, for the chance to actually get something without the work and the sacrifice and the degredation of all the other wishes that could never come true. hazy lazy peachy day, a sky the color of money, and the air as thick as raspberry jam slathered on her body in all the dreams that fell down the wishing well.
what are you doing? are you making fun of me? are you minding me, reminding me, thinking or dreaming of me? whirring through the days having forgotten all the times that should be worth a thought or two?
"you can never turn your back on your talent," the television just said to me. anybody want to guess what that talent was assumed to be? anybody want to guess how that assumption was dissolved and how it sifted through the slits and spaces through my fingers? anybody want to guess what it means to turn your back on your talent, not because of ignorance, but because you simply don't think you're good enough to endure the pains of it?
fly me to the moon and maybe i'll pick up some rocks, pack them up and amaze you with the immensity of my scientific knowledge. because, my dear, the moon is not made of cheese; rather broken dreams and hopes and wonderment, and all the things we turn to when we cannot bear to look upon the hurts that stain our clothes.
oh the smiles and the smiles and the ideas we like and love. we like the idea of liking. we like the idea of loving. we like and like and love and love and could have been so many things. such is the power of ideology. such is the power of hope. it just takes time to remember that ideas are seldom ideal. there's nothing more frustrating than feeling frustrated, don't you think?
alright life, come on already. i've had some ups, downs, laughs and the other stuff. but i've got a few more bumps to smooth out. and it's hard asking for help.
though we all like the idea of asking.
posted by Mister Vikas at 1:37 AM
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