Thoughts From The Brown Couch

Well, it's 4:20, and while I mean 4:20 AM, it still passes for a good moment, regardless of my bleary and bloodshot eyes. As with all things, things have changed again in life, ushering in what I hope is just a brief detente with the world, at least until I get straight and can figure out where all this jibby-job madness fits in with my plan to end up drinking rum on sunny beach. More to the point, I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do with the world, but then, it'll be there for a while, so no decision has to be reached.

I have noticed a seeming increase in the amount of butterflies lately. This would hardly seem worth mentioning, except for some reason it makes me think of the butterfly girl, and that is just unpleasent. I can't really describe it any better, mostly I just want to grab the elaborate moths, tear off the wings and stomp on the remains, but then again, it really isn't their fault. Not to mention killing a butterfly wouldn't make me feel any better about the whole experience. So instead I just think about the butterfly girl and that leaves me in a foul mood. Luckily, the medicine has arrived and looks to be in superb form.

Methinks there was something else I wanted to write about tonight, but aside from the fact that I finally found a job with benefits, it seems little else of import has really occured lately. Lest you think life is boring, it isn't, well it is, but only in large doses. So, other than keeping my sanity by listening to Joe Henry music and watching my beloved PATRIOTS FUCK THE RAIDERS LIKE A SKANKY VILLIAGE WHORE. Lest you forget where my loyalties lie, Thursday was spent watching the Patriots game at my friendly local drinking establishment. It's not nearly as good a sports bar as the redneck looking joints back in the burg, but what are you going to do? Fuck it man, let's go bowling....

cf

I haven't posted in a while, clearly to the detriment of my former pledge to reformat this blog and get it back into some sort of order. Realistically, I was planning on deleting any post that spent time bitching and moaning about certain subjects in an effort to reformultate the past a bit. See no evil, hear no evil, know what I mean?

But, much as I hate to admit it, at some base point in your own deep and dark considerations of the possibilites for existence, there is a truth, if not a narrative of the past that runs through the present. As much as you can cut ties to any event or moment experienced in life, there remains enough of a connection that serves as both a remembrance and reminder. Ultimately, that could be good or bad, but overall seems a rather simple (and elegant) means of self construction. You might not remember, but you'll always know, that sort of thing.

On a related note...With so much going on, I have had precious few moments to sit and think about where my own recent course is leading. I suppose there will be work and such for a few months, some time to cool my heals and rest the old noodle, but what now? I don't know, but soon, I'm sure the reason will come. And if it doesn't, I'll make one up, so I suppose in the final consideration, it can't hurt to try this for a while.

Well, enough of this. My head is exploding with Beatles music and the doctor's kind, time to go watch a movie and pass the fuck out. More later, ad nauseum and such. Itn ever really changes, but it's never quite the same. (Sorry about the cliche's/tired euphemisms and such, it's just I had a good night, and my brain is only barely functioning.)

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After a long debate of whether to simply delete this blog or keep adding to it, I have found a third way. In the coming days, I will simply delete most of the prior entries. I'm going for a sort of tabula rasa (blank slate for those with a distaste for dead languages.) I think some rewriting will be needed, as well as monkeying with the site a bit to put forth a better feel, but mostly, I need to keep writing, and by now, most everyone who used to check in on the site will have either lost the site or forgotten about htese humble pages. I'm still unsure of what I want to say, but in the interests of finding some more ground to cover, I'd like to forget this was the place I used to use to bitch about life and love (mostly love) and try to reengineer my style to give me a more defined forum from which to speak. Besides, so much has changed since I left Blacksburg, it hardly seems worth mentioning at this point. I never was real good with explanations, but what the hell, I have a few things working in my favor, and it has been a long fucking time since I really wrote anything, so I am of the mind to have at it, and we'll see what comes of it later. Think of it as disregarding repercussions, which has become a pastime in the empire of my birth.

The first thing I realized when I woke up this morning, after figuring out why Cartoon Network was still on (though Adult Swim long finished,) was that I seem to have lost track of a lot of my life. Now, before writing this, I realized I had made this observation before, that with some of my "habits" I was forgetting a lot of things that were going on. This isn't really a condemnation, just a realization that choosing one thing sometimes means forgetting something else. With a sudden month-long burst of sobriety, I began to notice a lot of things that had become background noise in my life. For me, this mostly means people. I won't deny I can be a distant son of a bitch when I want to be, but the flip side is I have probably pissed a lot of people off through my years of remaining kind of isolated. Makes me wonder (in that strange detached way I do) how people see me? Most of the time, that question doesn't enter my head, but from time to time, it pops up when I get a reminder from the past.

The truth is, my actions, as with most people, are driven by my beliefs. I am what you might refer to an entertaining mix of humanism and atheism, with a little skeptic thrown in for fun. I don't have any particular reason to believe there is an answer to the "Why are we here?" question, nor do I worry about an afterlife. I enjoy learning, and apart from a few unjustifiable worries and fears (wholly my problem when it comes to the issue of responsibility) I figure, at best, I'm really just along for the ride. So that is my starting point, and where this entry must end. I'm along for the ride, and I suppose that is where I'll always be.

cf

walking through a darkened hall
ecuador comes to mind
i see her there somehow before
another present time
when things were strange and different then
and we were feelin’ fine,
our time was spent on restless nights
when ecuador comes to mind.

losing myself in someone else
while she is spilling rhyme
looking around for something i found
inside that lady’s eyes
it slips my grasp, i lose control
graspin’ straws, i’m in a bind
all of this and more i see
when ecuador comes to mind

held so tight you can’t let go
of foolish thoughts of prime,
searching for some secret cave
wary of enemy spies
the shortest distance between two points
so often not in line,
scattered thoughts and scattered lands
when ecuador comes to mind

I haven't written in a while, odd, because it has been so fucking busy lately. Now that I am officially not a student come May 10th or so, I am busily trying to figure out some new plan. I'm sure it will involve working somewhere, but the rest of the details are a bit fuzzy right now.

You know what? I thought I had a lot to say this morning, but the truth is I don't. I don't have a funny comment or even a rant. At this point, what would the difference be, and what could I say that would make things any easier? Nothing. So today, instead of random thoughts, I am going to be silent. Here are the answers to all of your possible questions regarding me: It doesn't matter, I don't know, or I don't care. You are free to pick any or all of these answers.

cf

"Now the trees all rage and come to life
The day gives out but he takes a wife
Who carries on behind his back
Lets the rabble through
Time has run away with us
And it laughs at our tears and fuss
Best go with god and let me trust
The ghost in here is you"
(joe henry)

Strange wanderings and demands I have only the faintest idea on how to satisfy. Amazing moments surrounded with the same brilliant light that reflects off of deep eyes that curl back after goodbyes, asleep underneath blankets in the nook. It is a vaguely confusing experience, rife with the trembling notions that the cool breeze passes between strands of my hair before rushing on, moving faster than I can catch. Mostly just the onrushing tide of extremism, in all of it's vainglorious asperations of grandeur, tirelessly convincing the congregation of each sin that falls like pine needles to the ground. There are many, and of varied stages of decomposition, each insisting that not all is lost, not even to the brown needles that crave water and a chance to be green again.

Each lyrical musing is passed as if on a wire to the newest variations on old themes, each one building towards it's own sweet conclusion where words are no longer necesary, and fall to the ground. The serenity in the first words of someone's siren song like the first plucke strings on an acoustic guitar. Leaving something hidden behind the veil is more fun, leaving me only the barest of guesses as to where you see these words flying towards, and you're right, I don't ask questions as often as you, but I still I wander around what I can see of your soul and admire the landscape. Your daydream symphony on a sunny afternoon, or maybe just wondering how far you'll take a daydream before abandoning it in favor of something in the night. Well, even the siren has to stop singing and think occasionally, it isn't a sign of weakness, but an admission of strength.

I will finish the story tomorrow, for now I am tired and ready to attmept sleep. While I do this, in beds all across the nation sleeps the vagaries of the past, tearful inclinations proving, once and for all, that everything we knew was made up, and everything we made up was beautiful. Close-eyed sensations of ambiguity, and the very real possibility that none of it was real, just a bad trip that slowly ebbed with the tides, leaving us with all we'd ever need to survive, but without the knowledge to use it.

"Cut out picture of a sugar tart
With olive skin and a purple heart
Concrete shoes, it's just the start
Of bigger things unseen
The heroes of our glory days
They ride upon the hit parades
Of hometown girls who've been displayed
In dirty magazines"
(joe henry)

Well, time and tide wait for no man, so let's go, "All Skate!"

cf

ps - that is for colonel cairo, wherever he is. may he never skewer me with a cutlass, but reward me for my deeds. let us pray:

Our Papi,
Who art in Fenway
Hallowed by thy team.
Thou kicketh ass,
On Yankee grass,
And at home, as you did in the Bronx.

Give us this year our shiny rings,
And forgive us our talk of curses,
As we forgive those who talk of curses against us.
And lead us not into extra innings,
But deliver us from choking.
For thou art the Schilling,
And the Arroyo,
And the Wakefield
For ever and ever.
Damon.
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That is all I got tonight, I am ready for Friday to come...

cf
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The best thing about the clock hitting six a.m. is that soon the rest of the world will wake up, the shows on TV improve, and another very long night comes to an end. You know it is a dull night when excitement builds to go out at 4:00 a.m. to Sleven and get cigarettes. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I wish there was something of substance I could say, but I am so tired all I can think about is how great it would be to sleep through one night without getting up or staring at the ceiling for hours. On the other hand, when you're up all night, there is time to listen to tons of music and reflect on life. Which is why I blog.

At any rate, there is the tint of sweetness to this tart night. Tuesdays and Thursdays there is a good reason for excitement, though you'll have to come up with "why" on your own as I can't say. It would ruin the mystery, and that's no good.

Anyway, this is the end result of fucking aorund with words on a late night. I give you....(hold for applause)..."Visage"
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"Visage"

A singularly powerful moment,
In an otherwise blasé affair
Reflections, impressions
Impersonal pretension
Illogic that’s all but unfair

Where is this going,
Where’s everyone at
What’s so amazing about this and that?
Where is the problem
Why can’t you see
That it’s a waste to keep being if you can’t just be

The last hours of freedom and highway
First moments of home from the road
Illustrious tension
Profound apprehension
Feel free to push but not goad

Where is this going,
Where’s everyone at
What’s so amazing about this and that?
Where is the problem
Why can’t you see
Put your toes in the water and drift out to sea

Repentance, numbness and tension
Repeated in so many ways
Distasteful mention
Of unlikely conventions
Fusion of leaving and staid

Where is this going,
Where’s everyone at
What’s so amazing about this and that?
Where is the problem
Why can’t you see
If you don't profit from my words then I'll take no fee
----------------------

As always, your late night servant,

cf

ps - see, no names. on the brown couch, there are no names, and nobody will see you sitting up here. (most of you don't even know to whom that is addressed to. HA!)

cf