this might be the end of this place



okay, so...basically, i've been writing here because i'm really fuckin isolated right now and i don't really operate all that great without a certain level of love being thrown at me. and have subsequently been thrown into an introspective state that has been both enlightening and torturous, depending on the given moment's circumstances...and my boy is back in our homestate right now because his mom's health is in a state that's hard to put down in honest words because it's so fuckin sad.

but i don't know, i just wanted to talk a little bit about how painful love can be. and i'm not talking about some kinda masochistic shitshow, where someone miserable gravitates toward someone they can torture for a short time in order to feel like there's something in the chaotic mess of existence that they can control for a moment, even if it's only some poor, unsuspecting fool's genitalia..

but holy fuckin christ, love hurts when the one you love is suffering. you love someone so fuckin hard, insulate yourself from the incomprehensible insanity of the world, find a little peace and joy in the warmth of their spirit, and then, eventually, inevitably, because of the cruel shape of existence, you will watch them suffer. and maybe my experiences aren't universal but shit, it seems like another one of those rough inevitabilities that that love becomes a keen ache. like some spiritual beast is squeezing your heart chakra so that it can't spin the way it's meant to. like you can't breathe for all of the helpless sorrow the world seems so willing to heap upon you.

and, in ways less universal, less linked to intrinsic things, for me specifically, it's more than that. i've isolated myself, not only from the greater social structure, but from the offbeat weirdoes that would, romantically untethered, be my daily input of platonic love. so much of what gave me a sense of something magical before i found him was the hope of finding love. and i would still be in that state to some extent but that my life has shown me that i have a much greater interest in platonic love than most. it's been an upsetting thing to realize. eh. there's so much here. there's so much i want to express. but it's that big, arching sort of story that i've been thinking of, as my lonely, restless brain mashes many things together...and it's sad, so it seems tiring and wordy...

so, to put it simply, it's been a slow, unpleasant trail of realization to come to understand just how broken boys are, in terms of why they do things and behave in any sort of positive way.

and i need more people in my life but making friends is weird and treacherous and simply different when you're with someone. people are weird and distant when they don't get to think of you as theirs, even if it's only ever in their heads.

i want to live in some kind of collective of artists. i miss living with a bunch of people who i loved and who loved the shit outta me, without expecting anything but my bizarre presence. was reminded last week of the pseudo-religion i began and bailed on before i finished writing the doctrine, because people were curious and joining and that unnerved me to the very core of my being. [REDACTED, 'cause i don't feel so agitated about it all today so why leave such personal negativity posted]

i wanna get out of this desert. i'll forever hold in my soul the joy of getting to vote weed recreationally legal in a place but it's time to move the fuck on to something new. maybe even just the compound. i dread having to deal with the plethora of stuff i've collected over the past few years but it's time. it's so so so time...[REDACTED {lmfao..}]

anyway, this is probably enough disheartened bullshit outta me, goodnight.

6:35 a.m. - 2018-08-31



so many weird things are happening to the world right now. i have insulated myself so hard from the political sphere of things that every now and then, i'll catch a brief snippet of something going on and, i don't even almost feels like that wavy, distant way the surface looks when you're underwater. i think i could hear that cyborgs forcibly created by a.i. assassinated our entire political body and i'd just be like, oh, wow. okay...only to put on daria while i answer a million questions about organic fabric...i keep thinking about things in exquisitely weird ways. like the grand arch of many stories, my own, the world's, my family's...dna, what relics of now will be left in 250 years...about things like the fact that if you go back 10 generations, it took 1,024 people to create a single living person's genetics. so much unknown family. so many unknown stories. remembering that when i visited my family after my mawmaw passed away, i learned that i had a great uncle, her brother, named novatus who accidentally died jumping into the chattahoochee river. the mystery of history versus the hyper-documentation of today. there's so much information about this day, if it lasts, they're gonna think they know everything about the past, probably. you know...the meme scholars. and their tireless, endless nights spent delving through the centuries of here come dat boi esoterica...all assuming that humanity can survive the nanoplastics that will likely be coursing through the veins of the generations to come.

gonna work on this llama mask, peace.

8:09 a.m. - 2018-08-28




i just realized something really simple and fundamental that seems obvious but i just hadn't realized before somehow, my fuckin god...

there's a significant part of me that i couldn't seem to understand or work well with before and today i realized that a huge part of my confusion toward it is that IT DOES NOT SPEAK

so there are all of these mouthy-ass aspects in my thoughts, regulators, characters, thoughts, echoes of people i used to be, the radio flow of the exterior spiritual input that the world vibrates into my brain whether i want it or not and holy did i fail so thoroughly to get that? it DOES NOT use words. and i've been trying to fuckin TALK to it for years!

though...really, that's not the issue. it listens. it's a beautiful listener. but expecting words back from it has been a nonstop confusing folly and i'm so glad. i feel less exhausted right now. it's so relieved. it doesn't have to feel like it's failing to accomplish something that it's not equipped for anymore. seems so small and absurd but i'm honestly wondering if everything is going to be a little different from here on out

8:23 p.m. - 2018-08-27



okay, so...i'm trying to figure out some very embedded, confusing things. 'cause there's something fucky going on between the layers of myself. and my first impression was that this wouldn't help, because who i was here is locked into my present impressions as a troublesome, sad creature. but there are miscommunications and conflict and things in myself that aren't being honored...or something...honor is probably too distinct of a word for what i mean. i don't fuckin know, really, i guess i just got the feeling recently that part of myself wasn't respecting some of the lower aspects of my various other selves, which was causing problems. and i guess it seemed potentially useful to confront gonzo prophet for a moment.

i'm a mixed up jumble of many perceptions. and i don't ever want to repress anything that any aspect of it feels. i know that that's not really just causes festering and confusion. so, i try really hard to truly face what i feel and think and experience. but something's getting repressed without me being fully conscious of it. i've made some good progress lately and now that i'm trying to pin words to all of this, it occurs to me that maybe some of it is just echoes of a me recently enough passed that they're still haunting us a little and will naturally, even unexamined, fade with time - assuming the progress i've made is solid...but i'm also concerned that it might naturally continue and escalate, which could eventually lead to a full and negative split in perception. and, according to the uncertain terror that comes with standing that the head of those moments, i'm really not trying to go down that disorder road if it can be avoided. maybe this is fueled by hollywood fear - i only know so much about how such a thing manifests in real minds, when plots aren't at risk of being too dull and accurate. but, i mean, regardless, it seems completely unmanageable. contrarily, i feel like i'm actually getting close to being a more functional human being. but i can't help but feel that that's precisely why things are getting weird in the other levels of my consciousness. since i was a child, i've always expressed this with stories. but it's harder to delineate clear, distinct characters, with their own traits and perspectives and challenges, when i'm trying to express something i can feel and am being negatively effected by but can't perceive distinctly. i'm carrying around some petty child that i don't understand, says some part of me, refusing to accept that that petty child is also me? i just can't quite figure out what's happening in my head...and it's slowing me down. it's been slowing me down my entire life and i'm so fuckin tired of it. i'm ready to be in motion. i think..i hope. i don't want to spend so much time emotionally exhausted by the shape of existence.

waves of functionality contrasted by low days of inertia. there's gotta be some way to balance and straighten this out into a steady daily output of what my life needs to move forward. this world wasn't built for people like me but i'm smart. smart enough to overcome these petty features. why the hell can't i solidly figure the rest of this out?

i've been thinking a lot about karma lately. about suffering and what that means you deserve spiritually and whether i can believe in it in any way other than conditionally anymore. it used to comfort me but i've just seen such good people die in pain, unnecessarily, suddenly, while the vile thrive at unprecedented levels. and yes, one thing leads to another, all things are deeply interconnected, so naturally, you can't touch anything without it moving forward to touch many other things - that conditional side of karma is an undeniable universal truth for me, but...i'm fairly scientific about my spiritualism. and i can't believe in something i've seen proven false...even as i know that this is just one little slice of existence and that, like a rodent born in a cage might not understand the sky, maybe it's just a much bigger thing than any of us could empirically see. and maybe we're all paying for things we've done in other lives. but also, maybe this is just a much more lawless existence than i longed for in my early, mournful attempts to understand the world.

and regardless of truth, can i pick up an emptier set of beliefs and benefit from it? such as rerouting very old sorrows and escalating anxieties by letting go of perceiving death in the very negative and detrimental way that it struck me when i was a small child...with a little mush brain that can really only perceive things selfishly, through a predeveloped ego.

i'm tired of being haunted by that kid. if that's even what's happening...'cause to be honest, though the discord may have started then, this feels like a more alive and immediate issue. maybe the answer's in the squirtbottle of acid in the freezer.

and maybe it's not, you prophetic weirdo.

9:06 p.m. - 2018-07-13



i'm about as social as a feral cat these days. inevitably seem to end up scratching those around me when dragged out of the woods. i despise this after-the-fact regret, though, really, because the truth of things is that i'm simply being myself in a social world that infuriates me. i would like to be more at ease with my own brand of brutality. because it's simply who i am. it's an inextricable part of me right now and ultimately, i'd so much rather growl and hiss than quietly continue to allow anyone in my company to strut along, secure and comfy in the various shades of condescension or derision that raise my hackles. how's this feral cat metaphor working for you, you hideous abomination of a website? lmfao...seriously, though, give me back the gentle lilac that i grew up with, goddamnit...

weird to think how long ago i found this place. weird to think of the fiction i wrote here. character journals. maybe it's time for a new one, they said, fairly certain they'd be too lazy to more and more any time i open my mouth or lend my thoughts to written words, i feel like i'm just screaming into a tsunami wave of unmitigated bullshit.

it's foolish and selfish, though, i know...i'm think that you have no effect.

they can hear you. and no one's really as solid as they pretend to be.

3:12 p.m. - 2018-03-30


my creation, i know thee not...


remembering a stream of usernames / passwords was a minor feat of memory in a truly cannabinoid-rattled brain. i'm impressed with myself,

but DEAR GOD -

diaryland, you poor bastard...this color is reminiscent of the nurseries in my nightmares. i can't even look at you.

i need to find some new vessle to pour my my weird thoughts into.

3:00 p.m. - 2018-03-17


good luck

i am a very segmented, mixed up person. more like a houseful of discordant weirdos than a person a lot of days.

i don't know why my brain does so much of what it does. we pick up such weird rocks from the martian beaches of other people's existences, no matter the jaggedness. perpetually trying to process this in-built screen madness.

[there was more to this...more substance and weird flowy prose but, fuck, it seems so personal and exposing...and i've gotten out of this habit. my madness is my own these days and that almost seems like a shame but i'm just starting to wake back up, i feel, and...i don't fuckin know. i don't know how honest to be. it's all uncomfortable to me now.]



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