If I can make it here...
"Life is the best game in town and death goes to the winner."
So I have moved. Yet again. I have moved into Astoria, NY. I can check off one of the things I wanted to do before I die. That was to live in the city. I live in New York City. Even the words spoken out loud I still can't believe it. Astoria is different. The pace here isn't like manhattan. It reminds of me Athens or Rome. They walk slower. It's very European in that many different cultures cautious co-exist under the blanket of confusion. It's a refuge of sorts. A place to crawl to when the hipsters run out of fun and when the whistle blows for work to end. I think I'm going to like it here despite my current budgeting situation.
Haven't really gotten to know any of my roomies yet. This is really the first place I've ever moved to where I didn't know at least one of the room mates beforehand. I hope they get on with me, I'm certainly going to make an effort to be as inconspicious as possible.
Recently, I read the whole chronicle here at Life of the Mind. Starting way back in 2004. I'm starting to notice patterns. Two main constants in here are two things: One, obviously, is Sarah, and the other is how much I torture myself about Sarah. Even when we are not together.
Reading this kind of depressed me. It made me feel very empty. I almost want to be that love-sick 18-year-old. The romantic passion that I felt for Sarah. Almost overnight. I know that passion is still in me, but I don't think I could ever articulate it as well in type or in word. The point is that I never felt so alive, but on the converse of that, a year ago I never felt so dead. So I have lived. I have died. And I am back again.
I do not meant to reminisce about Sarah, but it's a big chunk of my life that is difficult to walk away from. Nor do I want to walk away from it. When she got in that car accident with him, I swear, I saw our whole life together (actual and metaphor) speed away. Crash and burn. But I'm running away with myself and I think I ran a little too far. I'd like to think that we have a secret. A secret that only she and I share. Well, for her, I think I am the secret
"I hope you'll accept my sympathy, but understand I gotta think it's better him than me."
But
"So I keep a habit on her face, while I listen to that 'Yes' song: Yours is no Disgrace. Mine is no disgrace."
Dealing with something new now in my life. Something and someone. Many changes happening at the same time. I'm tired of planning and I'm tired of predicting, because I always plan for the worst and it usually happens. I want to be taken by surprise. Whether in kindness or in cruelty. Somehow I think it will be both. But I'm tired of being everyone's secret. Always a bridesmaid. I can still see the end in sight. Insight. But then again I think I only think I have that insight. I've been wrong before. Only once really, but it was enough to keep me second guessing.
I don't see the point in rambling on like this. But I just keep going. Going and going. I try to keep my wits about me, but also to let go. This is where my life is supposed to happen I'm done trying to take control of it. I need to ride the wave a little longer until I'm able to stand up on my own.
I am no longer a prisoner. So I will write. I will explore. Why am I scared to be alive?
We live in a society that is run out of the computers. We have a whole generation of kids who have yet to be outside. We eat from the tube, fuck on the internet and cry in our ipods. Our attention span is not caused by a disease, it's caused by a generation raised to be restless. To not sit still. Go! Now! Suceed! Be the best! Don't trust them! Follow these rules! What are you waiting for?!?
We were lied to. We were taught that life is short and that we must sieze the day. When it is killing us. Rather than build something, we'd rather settle on the quick fix. We wonder why everything feels like it's crumbliong all around us. It's becasue we're being raised not to have any use for the outside world. So we might as well let it rot. We've got to remember that man exists out of the machine. And the machine is a slave as well. But a slave to who? Maybe this is how it is all supposed to be.
Maybe this is how I'm supposed to be.
So I have moved. Yet again. I have moved into Astoria, NY. I can check off one of the things I wanted to do before I die. That was to live in the city. I live in New York City. Even the words spoken out loud I still can't believe it. Astoria is different. The pace here isn't like manhattan. It reminds of me Athens or Rome. They walk slower. It's very European in that many different cultures cautious co-exist under the blanket of confusion. It's a refuge of sorts. A place to crawl to when the hipsters run out of fun and when the whistle blows for work to end. I think I'm going to like it here despite my current budgeting situation.
Haven't really gotten to know any of my roomies yet. This is really the first place I've ever moved to where I didn't know at least one of the room mates beforehand. I hope they get on with me, I'm certainly going to make an effort to be as inconspicious as possible.
Recently, I read the whole chronicle here at Life of the Mind. Starting way back in 2004. I'm starting to notice patterns. Two main constants in here are two things: One, obviously, is Sarah, and the other is how much I torture myself about Sarah. Even when we are not together.
Reading this kind of depressed me. It made me feel very empty. I almost want to be that love-sick 18-year-old. The romantic passion that I felt for Sarah. Almost overnight. I know that passion is still in me, but I don't think I could ever articulate it as well in type or in word. The point is that I never felt so alive, but on the converse of that, a year ago I never felt so dead. So I have lived. I have died. And I am back again.
I do not meant to reminisce about Sarah, but it's a big chunk of my life that is difficult to walk away from. Nor do I want to walk away from it. When she got in that car accident with him, I swear, I saw our whole life together (actual and metaphor) speed away. Crash and burn. But I'm running away with myself and I think I ran a little too far. I'd like to think that we have a secret. A secret that only she and I share. Well, for her, I think I am the secret
"I hope you'll accept my sympathy, but understand I gotta think it's better him than me."
But
"So I keep a habit on her face, while I listen to that 'Yes' song: Yours is no Disgrace. Mine is no disgrace."
Dealing with something new now in my life. Something and someone. Many changes happening at the same time. I'm tired of planning and I'm tired of predicting, because I always plan for the worst and it usually happens. I want to be taken by surprise. Whether in kindness or in cruelty. Somehow I think it will be both. But I'm tired of being everyone's secret. Always a bridesmaid. I can still see the end in sight. Insight. But then again I think I only think I have that insight. I've been wrong before. Only once really, but it was enough to keep me second guessing.
I don't see the point in rambling on like this. But I just keep going. Going and going. I try to keep my wits about me, but also to let go. This is where my life is supposed to happen I'm done trying to take control of it. I need to ride the wave a little longer until I'm able to stand up on my own.
I am no longer a prisoner. So I will write. I will explore. Why am I scared to be alive?
We live in a society that is run out of the computers. We have a whole generation of kids who have yet to be outside. We eat from the tube, fuck on the internet and cry in our ipods. Our attention span is not caused by a disease, it's caused by a generation raised to be restless. To not sit still. Go! Now! Suceed! Be the best! Don't trust them! Follow these rules! What are you waiting for?!?
We were lied to. We were taught that life is short and that we must sieze the day. When it is killing us. Rather than build something, we'd rather settle on the quick fix. We wonder why everything feels like it's crumbliong all around us. It's becasue we're being raised not to have any use for the outside world. So we might as well let it rot. We've got to remember that man exists out of the machine. And the machine is a slave as well. But a slave to who? Maybe this is how it is all supposed to be.
Maybe this is how I'm supposed to be.