Chaos
There's something about a messy room and a messy mind that can make you yearn for a clean room and squeaky thoughts. The serious mysteries of life all come to trouble you in one fantastic instant, tumbling in like ants on the warpath (I can just imagine Bear Grills: "Look! Fresh ant tracks!"). Serious mysteries like "Why am I typing a post for my blog when my room is a fresh disaster?" and "What will I wear for my show today?"
Other mysteries include, "Why am I so short?" "Why do I suck so bad at Math?" "Why is the sky blue?" "Why are YOU so short?" etc.
I recently acquired a few writing "assignments". Not the "punishment" kind--far worse--the creative kind, the endless self-bludgeon project. I sit down every other minute hoping that the fingers will become possessed to do a crazy dance over the keyboard and punch out something smart and small. The problem(s), though, is that my brain feels like a horse that is missing his little black eye-visor things. I can't seem to go straight for the love of God. You think it'd be as easy as putting one foot in front of the other, word-wise, but my brain keeps wanting to imagine that it has one hundred feet, and that I will not eventually be screwed if they all wanted to launch out in a different direction at once. I have become so (cranially) stretched through this vain writing exercise that I am afraid to take another step. (Maybe it's the messy room. Too many things all in front of my eyes to think about.)
I have only this ineptibility (probably not a word, since inept + ability is pretty much equivalent to -1+1, little bits of math for ya) to blame for the last haphazard posts that probably made everyone a little squirmy and afraid for me. So this is my roundabout, multi-tentacled-octopus-ish way of saying, "Don't worry about me! I'm just as fine as I've ever been, if not finer!!"
I can no longer remain in denial about the Hiroshima-Nagasaki tragedy that is my room, and I must now go clear some debris (pronounced *debree* for those who have been known to misread their "Power and Protection"s). See ya.
Other mysteries include, "Why am I so short?" "Why do I suck so bad at Math?" "Why is the sky blue?" "Why are YOU so short?" etc.
I recently acquired a few writing "assignments". Not the "punishment" kind--far worse--the creative kind, the endless self-bludgeon project. I sit down every other minute hoping that the fingers will become possessed to do a crazy dance over the keyboard and punch out something smart and small. The problem(s), though, is that my brain feels like a horse that is missing his little black eye-visor things. I can't seem to go straight for the love of God. You think it'd be as easy as putting one foot in front of the other, word-wise, but my brain keeps wanting to imagine that it has one hundred feet, and that I will not eventually be screwed if they all wanted to launch out in a different direction at once. I have become so (cranially) stretched through this vain writing exercise that I am afraid to take another step. (Maybe it's the messy room. Too many things all in front of my eyes to think about.)
I have only this ineptibility (probably not a word, since inept + ability is pretty much equivalent to -1+1, little bits of math for ya) to blame for the last haphazard posts that probably made everyone a little squirmy and afraid for me. So this is my roundabout, multi-tentacled-octopus-ish way of saying, "Don't worry about me! I'm just as fine as I've ever been, if not finer!!"
I can no longer remain in denial about the Hiroshima-Nagasaki tragedy that is my room, and I must now go clear some debris (pronounced *debree* for those who have been known to misread their "Power and Protection"s). See ya.
2 comments:
I would suggest cleaning up before doing any kind of writing or studying , your brain just works better in a clutter free environment. Fare thee well, my musically inclined pal, I'm praying for you. Huggles.
"There's that moment when you're standing there and you wish everything would go real quiet, and the universe would realize that you had something to say. And you want someone to pull it out of you, and you wish you knew that a million ears were waiting to be reborn by the words that you're fishing for inside a clenched mind."
Florence, your last couple of posts have meant a lot to me. especially the above lines. i feel exactly like that.
and i'd really love to have someone stumble along and find me crying...just so i could know they care about me as much as i care about them.
i'm also having writing difficulties.
anyway, thank you so much. i love you tons!
p.s: making love is one of my fav songs :P
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