Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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So maybe I had this all wrong. Maybe I’m not the control freak I always thought I was. I keep showing up, yeah? If I weren’t willingly riding the Wave of Meh, I’d be bailing on you every chance I could. Granted, I’m not creating any legacy by overstaying my welcome at _ _ _ (choose your 3 favorite initials) but at least I diligently sweep up the trash in the hopes “Tomorrow Will Be A Brighter Day!” Tomorrow is better already with the realization that I’m creating opportunities just by grinding away and keeping my nose close to the stone. Or to put it another way: I'm not expecting any free trips to Spain. I fly on my own dime or not at all.Being present is a choice and the reason why you and I are where we’re at.
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gary knows his woes reach down to his toes
toes located somewhere beneath his nose
thoughts pierce the heart
unopposed
as gary ruminates in repose
lost in the throes
of cici's reproach
apologies caught in the throat
as love leaves us to whinge about
romantic anecdotes -
To be present, truly in the moment, involves the people, places and things within reach. What is beyond one's range of vision is of no concern (it isn't even real, anyway.)
"Well, you won't have to listen to that again."
"Thank gawd."
"Pretty much the problem though, yeah?"
… crickets …
"Yeah. I don't know how that'll turn out."
You are a normal person working a normal job alongside normal people. The Universe was waiting for you to make a change after these nine years of stillness. When you refused to move, the Universe tipped your world upside down. Here, grab the ring, fenced in as you are, when it comes back around.
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My core ought to feel like it's pierced by arrows each time you are near. In your eyes I see a forgotten life and feel the vague familiarity of a neighborhood in which I once lived. We are quivering heaps of pent up emotions which we mistake for attraction; desire. The only release is to accept the truth. We hurt each other in the attempt to be compatible; content. Attack. Counterattack. And the reflection bites back. "Don't put your stuff on me." And where are we? Separated today by miles of frustration and a double dose of silence. I cling to the island enchantment creates from chaos. You drift farther away from the unattainable dream. Together we are broken souls loathe to admit we feed off each other's need.If it don't hurt, it don't matter.
If it makes you cry, you've found paradise.
If … FUCK! It's 8:37.
Chronically laid off, Gary wonders why, despite running circles around his peers in terms of skills/knowledge/grit and The Will to Get the Job Done, his name tends to appear on November riff lists.
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Darla on the mountaintop, proclaiming to the four winds, with a silver chalice in her left hand and a finely-wrought blade of steel in the right:
Both of these accessories are in play as they pertain to my energy and destiny. It is almost as though we are not examining two people, two archetypes, but rather one. Two halves, if I am to read upon these pages a story about the reflection of the dark part of the soul, of an embryonic whole. Two entities that make up one Spirit. How difficult it is to be in the same room as The Other Half! It hurts to be around a fragment of oneself that cannot be made complete. I don't believe in flames, only tribes, and to come across a kindred member of this wandering band of scribes is an opportunity for one to be challenged. Challenged and frustrated and shamed into becoming the most self-actualized human one can be in this space and time. People that come and go throughout our lives are lessons in the flesh. What is it I need to learn? ¿Y tú? For what reason? By what method? … and another thing … I've put more effort into this damn relationship that's been stuck in The Friend Zone for the last five years than you have. Why am I bellyaching and shouting from this foothill freezing my ass off?!
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You told me you live in your own world."Don't place too much trust in me."
You forgot what we talked about a month ago. Our conversation was important. It had to do with self-awareness and the color I'd recently painted the walls of my study.
"Forgetfulness means I never think of you when we're away from this place."
I knocked on your door and whispered goodbye. You looked up with tear-filled eyes; your left hand raised as a warning to not cross a line. I didn't bother to smile or hold your gaze or say another word. I turned around and headed down the hall. That was the longest walk to my car I ever had.
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The flip side of pain is love, and what is love but a vehicle to keep us from dying a new death every day? Love is also a gateway to disappointment and heartbreak and insecurity. One cannot have a well-lived existence without the sweet agony of wallowing in The Big Three — d / h / i — at various junctures along Life's Rocky Road. It's better than flying solo, right? The fear of being alone makes for tenuous bedfellows. -
and for anyone who peeks at this screen, i got a little nugget o' to pass along … just keep showing up. sounds simple but it's one of the hardest things to do consistently throughout one's lifetime(s). good things are coming my way, though, thanks to the routine to which i tenaciously cling; being in a place at specific times and dates and performing tasks that outside a particular four-walled structure MAKE NO SENSE AT ALL. i'm sure you participate in a similar activity wherever you reside in the multiverse. it is easy to get tripped up when one dances to the rhythm of the day-to-day. sometimes there's no end in sight and progression feels like an automobile stuck in reverse (even under the best of circumstances it's not easy to power through life's obstacle course.) but hey, did you make someone's day today? that's about the only way to gauge if you've done anything worth a damn. create something right now that didn't exist yesterday, and say Hello to the next person that enters your periphery. keep raisin' the vibration y'all, and then tell me you don't see a little light slipping through the cracks. -
The world was carved by the right hand of the pagliacci. Reality is as entertaining as one's daydreams, and as tangible as the gash you stanch with little chance of it becoming a scar. We all weep at the sight of a well-rehearsed faux pas. Perseverance is the best way to force an outcome, and no one can annihilate an expectation better than Buddie Lewis. How sharp she keeps her charms; silver burnished to draw down the moon.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 