No more holding back, I want you in my bed everynight
The time is 2011. June. So exactly five years ago we met for the first time. And I am trying to figure a reason that exists that doesn't make me want to change absolutely everything about the constructions in my mind about the way my emotions work, and why. In so many words, or so many relationships I suppose, which seem to be made up of a lot of words that either mean something or don't, or maybe they mean things to my mind or to the ideals that exist in my mind but don't speak of anything living in my heart and spirit. So anyway, lots of words. And in so many of them, I haven't gotten to that ideal. But I've been trying for years and years and so on. The story goes like this...
In my head lives a theorist, philosopher, humanitarian, actor, and romantic. And that theorist, philosopher, humanitarian, actor, and romantic has had years and years to develop its intricately detailed egoist personality. It's mine and mine alone. And I've used it to navigate the world that is mine. So in my head lives a navigator, a psychoanaltic navigator. Shapeshifting and accomodating. Perspectively transcendent when old understandings are not enough to fulfill urgencies which live without my mind. So in my mind lives a transcendentalist. Okay, let me back up a bit...
The story really is this...
I might have been born from what stars are made of. What are those elements anyway....? Hydrogen, Helium, and some other stuff. So I might have been, meaning I really actually am, made up of that stuff. So I must have gotten here with some primordial bang resonating through the internal parts of my mother's belly. And I was loud when I came out. I was loud for years. I might have a soul so new that sound and gravity were such a shock that I couldn't even bear the pressure. So my ears hurt a lot. That's probably why, I think. Okay, so my ears hurt, and I was loud, meaning I cried all the time. All the fucking time. And there was pressure. And there were sometimes loud *POPS* that would suddenly give way to relief and then I'd sleep. Once in a blue moon. So the story I'm telling is about what happened when I was both awake, and asleep, and in between, above, beyond, or through, I'm not quite sure. So...
I had a human mother and human father who suffered from human afflictions. And those afflictions were common among most humans; a strong tendency to lie to themselves and others, an urgency towards obtaining money through means they did not enjoy or even earn, an almost orgasmic psychological necessity for knowledge not accompanied by moral fiber, need for a savior without sacrifice, and principles based on fear or mechanisms of control that yielded few indidual politics. Things that yeild violence and separatism. Well, okay. So they probably never intended on turning out so pitifully, but in many ways, many humans do. So at any rate my human mother and father had forgotten about love. And the result was more pressure on my new ears. So I grew up with their human afflictions rippling through my atmosphere and it trouble me some. I wanted human things too, since I was now human myself. And I wasn't getting those things. I didn't know I was supposed to be learning about love, and nurturing, and exploration, and individuality. So my human didn't learn. Okay, so this is complicated... I knew things because of my star parts, but they were never validated and the practice of them was incomplete leaving all of my knowledge or supposed knowledge to remain theoretical. So my heart is still pretty small, and my head is pretty large, unfortunately.
So all of this intellectual stuff is going on and my body is getting bruised and bloody and emptier every year. The brain thus constructed a prison for the external world, doubling as a sanctuary for the internal underdeveloped parts. And over years of meticulous practice and social and scientific experiments my minds personas were beginning to take over my human life. There did, however, occur an emotionally charged and spiritual revolt during my teenage years where the truths that became my everyday treatment from the human parents I was disgraced by became poetic battle fields. The sanctuary had come to resemble the prison walls so intensely that revolution was urgent. And there were stars, sunsets, pots of tea and more marijuana than I am capable of recalling due to its frequent usage. There were rooftops and trains, things that felt outskirted in ways but were reachable. There were travellers and far off pen pals who existed in a mind form such as text on screens and hypothetical human beings also trapped behind bars of screens and html codes. It felt symbiotic, what can I say? There were human girls. There were many human girls. They brought their legs and vaginas and breasts and fingertips, their clavicles, lobes, irises, tongues, ribs, voiceboxes. They brought their friends. And it was at this time I realized I could use their bodies as bridges between the mental world I was stuck in and the physical world I longed to connect to. So that's what I tried to do...
And I did that for nearly ten years. Actually, in ten years I have had more relationships and sexual partner than most people have in their entire lifetime. How unfortunate it is to have a nice looking face, in retrospect. So anyway, its been ten years of bridges that do not lead anywhere. I guess you can't love people if they are actually bridges. So love is like a catch-22. So I'm like a siren, or something close to it. So I secretly dislike myself sometimes, a lot. But that's only because I like to take responsibility for things.
Okay, so im being human with my human afflictions that are developing as fervently as my human parents' did, and I'm fucking without feeling and sometimes sad about that and sometimes not, and I have a nice looking face which makes it easy to keep walking all over all these bridges, I mean women, and I'm not doing what I sought out to do; feel rather than think. And this is how it has been for me. A prison turned gravesight, nearly.
But then five years ago there was you.
And all those impossible standards I had worked up in my mind I finally found in someone. You penetrate those bars, and you carry rope in your back pocket for ditches everywhere and the people stuck inside of them. Its really quite incredible. Your hydrogen and helium are really quite miraculous. And your fingers are as well. Your whole hands in fact. They press and kneed into the body I detach from, demanding me there. I like that.
This isn't as sweet and tender as I wanted it to be. But im in Brooklyn and my parking meter is going to run out. Incidentally I am here visiting you, and now that I have come, there is no doubt in my mind that you are the answer to that ideal. Well, you and I. What I mean to say is that you are the love of my life. And there is no need for bridges with you because we float because that 2% of other elements that are heavy afflictors aren't really there when we're together and so it's like we are floating. It's like we are more than human. It's like the greatest fucking thing ever. Ever...
So I wrote your mom a letter to say thanks.
In my head lives a theorist, philosopher, humanitarian, actor, and romantic. And that theorist, philosopher, humanitarian, actor, and romantic has had years and years to develop its intricately detailed egoist personality. It's mine and mine alone. And I've used it to navigate the world that is mine. So in my head lives a navigator, a psychoanaltic navigator. Shapeshifting and accomodating. Perspectively transcendent when old understandings are not enough to fulfill urgencies which live without my mind. So in my mind lives a transcendentalist. Okay, let me back up a bit...
The story really is this...
I might have been born from what stars are made of. What are those elements anyway....? Hydrogen, Helium, and some other stuff. So I might have been, meaning I really actually am, made up of that stuff. So I must have gotten here with some primordial bang resonating through the internal parts of my mother's belly. And I was loud when I came out. I was loud for years. I might have a soul so new that sound and gravity were such a shock that I couldn't even bear the pressure. So my ears hurt a lot. That's probably why, I think. Okay, so my ears hurt, and I was loud, meaning I cried all the time. All the fucking time. And there was pressure. And there were sometimes loud *POPS* that would suddenly give way to relief and then I'd sleep. Once in a blue moon. So the story I'm telling is about what happened when I was both awake, and asleep, and in between, above, beyond, or through, I'm not quite sure. So...
I had a human mother and human father who suffered from human afflictions. And those afflictions were common among most humans; a strong tendency to lie to themselves and others, an urgency towards obtaining money through means they did not enjoy or even earn, an almost orgasmic psychological necessity for knowledge not accompanied by moral fiber, need for a savior without sacrifice, and principles based on fear or mechanisms of control that yielded few indidual politics. Things that yeild violence and separatism. Well, okay. So they probably never intended on turning out so pitifully, but in many ways, many humans do. So at any rate my human mother and father had forgotten about love. And the result was more pressure on my new ears. So I grew up with their human afflictions rippling through my atmosphere and it trouble me some. I wanted human things too, since I was now human myself. And I wasn't getting those things. I didn't know I was supposed to be learning about love, and nurturing, and exploration, and individuality. So my human didn't learn. Okay, so this is complicated... I knew things because of my star parts, but they were never validated and the practice of them was incomplete leaving all of my knowledge or supposed knowledge to remain theoretical. So my heart is still pretty small, and my head is pretty large, unfortunately.
So all of this intellectual stuff is going on and my body is getting bruised and bloody and emptier every year. The brain thus constructed a prison for the external world, doubling as a sanctuary for the internal underdeveloped parts. And over years of meticulous practice and social and scientific experiments my minds personas were beginning to take over my human life. There did, however, occur an emotionally charged and spiritual revolt during my teenage years where the truths that became my everyday treatment from the human parents I was disgraced by became poetic battle fields. The sanctuary had come to resemble the prison walls so intensely that revolution was urgent. And there were stars, sunsets, pots of tea and more marijuana than I am capable of recalling due to its frequent usage. There were rooftops and trains, things that felt outskirted in ways but were reachable. There were travellers and far off pen pals who existed in a mind form such as text on screens and hypothetical human beings also trapped behind bars of screens and html codes. It felt symbiotic, what can I say? There were human girls. There were many human girls. They brought their legs and vaginas and breasts and fingertips, their clavicles, lobes, irises, tongues, ribs, voiceboxes. They brought their friends. And it was at this time I realized I could use their bodies as bridges between the mental world I was stuck in and the physical world I longed to connect to. So that's what I tried to do...
And I did that for nearly ten years. Actually, in ten years I have had more relationships and sexual partner than most people have in their entire lifetime. How unfortunate it is to have a nice looking face, in retrospect. So anyway, its been ten years of bridges that do not lead anywhere. I guess you can't love people if they are actually bridges. So love is like a catch-22. So I'm like a siren, or something close to it. So I secretly dislike myself sometimes, a lot. But that's only because I like to take responsibility for things.
Okay, so im being human with my human afflictions that are developing as fervently as my human parents' did, and I'm fucking without feeling and sometimes sad about that and sometimes not, and I have a nice looking face which makes it easy to keep walking all over all these bridges, I mean women, and I'm not doing what I sought out to do; feel rather than think. And this is how it has been for me. A prison turned gravesight, nearly.
But then five years ago there was you.
And all those impossible standards I had worked up in my mind I finally found in someone. You penetrate those bars, and you carry rope in your back pocket for ditches everywhere and the people stuck inside of them. Its really quite incredible. Your hydrogen and helium are really quite miraculous. And your fingers are as well. Your whole hands in fact. They press and kneed into the body I detach from, demanding me there. I like that.
This isn't as sweet and tender as I wanted it to be. But im in Brooklyn and my parking meter is going to run out. Incidentally I am here visiting you, and now that I have come, there is no doubt in my mind that you are the answer to that ideal. Well, you and I. What I mean to say is that you are the love of my life. And there is no need for bridges with you because we float because that 2% of other elements that are heavy afflictors aren't really there when we're together and so it's like we are floating. It's like we are more than human. It's like the greatest fucking thing ever. Ever...
So I wrote your mom a letter to say thanks.