April 11th, 2010 at 10:27 pm
Selected Ambient Works
I’ve been dismayingly uninspired lately and it doesn’t help that I’m already so limited in this arena. There have been occasions that have confirmed self-deprecating sentiments. ‘Self-deprecating’ is a term I use half-willingly. Naturally, I don’t think there’s much to take from if I’m making these sorts of evaluations in the first place. I can spin this though, I can. I am good at existing, for example. I am a taking-up-space extraordinaire. Everyone’s favorite misanthrope. I can help you verify your own intelligence by mere juxtaposition.
I’m tracing the same shapes over and over again. These suspicions are nothing new. I feel that I’ve just been regurgitating whatever insecurities I developed in my formative years, but disguising them in some convoluted language in hopes of validating otherwise unfounded angst. Unfounded angst. Now there’s a redundant phrase. Case in point.
I mean, Trent Reznor has been replaced with Jaime Stewart and my bright purple fishnets are solid black tights now.
I would like to engage in sedate conversation with the perspicacious journalist. Like “Xtal” by Aphex Twin on repeat. Slow motion elation. I remember warmth and vibrations from current bouts. Even so, it was fleeting and I was scared immediately. I crawled into cramped spaces of unresponsiveness and closed doors. Mortality reminds me that I need to stop closing doors. Not my own mortality, as might be expected. It’s never your own mortality.
But yeah. Loose ends. Pretension. I’m off to bounty bread now. (Apparently it’s a suicide mission?)
January 27th, 2010 at 12:16 am
Learned Helplessness
I’m sitting in my psychology section–the one that feels like high school without the collared shirts–and I’m revisiting recent experiences, specifically the ants invading my windowsill and my lack of groceries (my stomach likes to remind me). My TA, with her adorable dimples and fashion faux pas, is talking about anxiety orders as part of a “mini lecture” and cautions against self-diagnosing. I try my best to ignore the fact that her outlining symptoms of a panic attack may induce a panic attack. Dizziness. Increased heart rate. Feeling of being choked.
So I think of you: the irrelevant you. Who the fuck are you? Whom am I speaking to? I’m not supposed to talk to you. You, whom I pass judgement on. You, whom I delineate from them for the sole reason of persuading myself that I’m not self-harming, that the choice to speak to you is not one completely under my control. You, you, you. It’s silly though, thoughts of avoiding a panic attack turn into thoughts of you, thoughts of involuntary reactions that fooled me into thinking we’re close. I sneeze.
These narratives have significance after the fact because of the magic of exaggerated elaboration.
Ineludible stressors? I’m not even sure if i was looking for stasis anymore. After all, stagnation is what I escaped and refused to continue.
Maybe I’m being cryptic because it’s easier to allude to things that probably aren’t there rather than risk unfounded assertions.
It’s late, and I should sleep. I dreamt of comfortable exposure and Laura Harring last night. I jumped into imperfect maps of the United States and I talked to characters with shadows across their faces. I walked through a familiar ally with barn like entrances. It fell apart when I was confronted with a version of myself that I tried to push away, but I guess I should be thankful that I have an opportunity to tackle that in an artificial arena.
December 21st, 2009 at 9:50 pm
Hackneyed Entities
The soggy jigsaw puzzle:
(its pieces were meant to fit together at its inception)
The product of bad weather and unfortunate incidents
Sitting at the back of the family game cabinet
Who dare open its box?
The excruciating task of forcing it together
The picture faded,
nothing to reference
its purpose lost
I never liked jigsaw puzzles
Everything, carefully calculated
straight end pieces frame
that “masterpiece,”
expectantly waiting to be built
Blocks were always my forte
Tiny pieces
(Cells
Atoms
Particles)
insignificant(?)
until pulled together