(no subject)
Holidays are nearing. A flight to Chicago on a Friday afternoon. A return flight two weeks later on another Friday. Collecting thoughts on the air plane is to be expected. Swirls of them. Around and around they will go. Life is so confusing, I wonder if it's me, somewhere outside of this galaxy, trying to fit a gigantic jigsaw puzzle together, so here I am on this spiraling ball of water and mass, confused, bouncing all over the place, getting put into place, feeling just fine, getting jumbled up again, it's all alright.
Purple hills of Maryland are sight to see on a sun down hour. I wonder if I should just keep driving, head for the hills, test the car suspensions on the curves, go further and further up, but instead I just pull into my apartment complex.
I quit coffee a month ago. How strange it is not to be able to say hello to the coffee lady in the morning. Chat about the weather. The book she's working on. The book I'm not working on. Her marathon training. My inability to get myself in running shoes and on the pavement. My energy is better for it. Steady, steady goes my blood flow.
Am I unhappy? I think unsatisfied is a clever fella, masks himself in the color of unhappiness. No, I'm not unhappy, I'm not satisfied. Forever so, I'm afraid. I wonder what stage in my development did I get so jaded with life? Pre-K? 5th grade? Was it because I got too many presents at Christmas time (I'm the only child!)Did a certain bong rip take out a part of my brain? Ah, if only I could rent the movie of my life over the weekend. Play it and take down notes. Understand why the way I am. Rewind, see it in slow motion, fast forward it, stop...it's me jerking off in my grandma's bathroom...ah, no wonder I'm a fuck-up.
"They have their worries, they’re counting the miles, they’re thinking about where to sleep tonight, how much money for gas, the weather, how they’ll get there-and all the time they’ll get there anyway, you see."
-Jack Kerouac
Purple hills of Maryland are sight to see on a sun down hour. I wonder if I should just keep driving, head for the hills, test the car suspensions on the curves, go further and further up, but instead I just pull into my apartment complex.
I quit coffee a month ago. How strange it is not to be able to say hello to the coffee lady in the morning. Chat about the weather. The book she's working on. The book I'm not working on. Her marathon training. My inability to get myself in running shoes and on the pavement. My energy is better for it. Steady, steady goes my blood flow.
Am I unhappy? I think unsatisfied is a clever fella, masks himself in the color of unhappiness. No, I'm not unhappy, I'm not satisfied. Forever so, I'm afraid. I wonder what stage in my development did I get so jaded with life? Pre-K? 5th grade? Was it because I got too many presents at Christmas time (I'm the only child!)Did a certain bong rip take out a part of my brain? Ah, if only I could rent the movie of my life over the weekend. Play it and take down notes. Understand why the way I am. Rewind, see it in slow motion, fast forward it, stop...it's me jerking off in my grandma's bathroom...ah, no wonder I'm a fuck-up.
"They have their worries, they’re counting the miles, they’re thinking about where to sleep tonight, how much money for gas, the weather, how they’ll get there-and all the time they’ll get there anyway, you see."
-Jack Kerouac