some people want to save lives.

some people never want to do anything like that. obsessive compulsive or busying yourself out of depression. none of it matters. people will still die.

heredity.

we're all just trying to deal with the mistakes of our ancestors until we have someone to pass our collective mistakes onto.

life; you'll never meet someone who thinks about it as much or quite the same as you. you're doomed to isolation in this aspect, as we all are. however, sharing ideas and compassion between these isolated worlds of individual ideas is the only consolation one can find. that or vicariously living through the scripted lives of beautiful people on television so that we forget our lives altogether.

now that you understand, be ashamed that at one point you didn't. man does not carry with him this shame of unknowing most things. he instead prides himself on the small information he has collected and recorded. people look at it and say, "wow". the great accomplishment of man.

everything made with a conscious effort by man has a logic system to it. man has a ridiculous love affair with logic.

i wish she was still that girl who wore bowling shoes.

she's become someone different, who has to rent bowling shoes like the rest of us. i'm losing the things i love about her to who she used to be. the past is eating away at this love.

the bathroom stall

an anonymous pair of shoes underneath a bathroom stall. he goes there to hide. no one will bother him, no one will ask questions. when he returns and they say, where were you? the bathroom. nothing more is needed as an explanation. he sits there on the toilet seat. just gathering his thoughts, just hiding from judgement and responsibility. he listens to the conversations grown men have while peeing, or washing their hands. he shuffles his feet some. unsure if they can tell he isn't really using the toilet. he likes it best when he's alone in there. when he isn't merely an easedropper on meaningless conversations of the world, but completely exempt from it. life and everything that goes along with it gets put on hold, except for an anonymous pair of shoes underneath a bathroom stall.

she never lets him put it in

he always has to wait for her to do it. thinking only of one thing while he's waiting. once it's in, he forgets all about that. he won't think of it again until he's about to forget it all over. his won't be the last. he knows this, but he just carries on and hopes. it's all that's left to do.

confiding is a good way of making friends.

she didn't look at all like the woman i was allowed to love. she looked at me and looked away. that was the last time i saw her.

an explanation of love

anyone at any time can change to the point that you don't know them anymore.

they have to write you letters

to remind you they're not dead yet. in case you forgot.

something about god or love.
or the lack thereof.

to tell you that there's nothing left.

to no one, kept in a private place, in hopes that things wont change, that the excitement of beginnings can be maintained.
beginning with love, ending with disappointment.

making you numb to what you loved about life.

the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy

we fall out of love so easy, only to remember why we bothered in the first place. with everything we try so hard to be, certain things do not escape us. those things we want will not fulfill us, we will want things even after they have been attained. it's endless, it's all we do. wrestless uncontented lives we live. it's best for the elderly to keep busy, without this wrestlessness, there is boredom, emptiness, depression, carelessness, and inevitable death. frothing teeth, pulling hair, getting things done until we stop, not that they needed to be done in the first place, or that anyone will miss them once it's over. the world is not how i expected it to be growing up. it's worse.

it's easier to be homeless in the south

he can stand on just about any corner and no one thinks twice, whatever time of year it is.

typical belief

believing is the whole battle. giving up better judgement for a hallow smile. it's only a matter of time until everything we see tells us there's no other choice. until we believe it is the better option. after having had it shoved down our throats all our lives. we're going to have to make some sort of compromise. every day of my life i realize i'm compromising more and more. until eventually it has to be considered merely caving in. if i would have known this from the start it may have saved me a whole lot of wasted effort, struggling. i'd still feel the same way, i just wouldn't do anything about it. i just wouldn't try so hard not to try.

lunch money for guitar strings

it's all a matter of what's important to you. struggling for a life with meaning. trying to make it count, without any examples to point to. "is there anything in your life that could change to make you not want to kill yourself?" there's probably a chance. he knows all about arguments and analyzing human logic and words, but he doesn't know shit about quantum physics, or even trigonometry. we're all just trying to be part of some whole that doesn't even get much done, except continuously fondle and yank each other. milking with an air of dignity and self-righteousness. power and a sense of control in this life always comes down to someone fucking someone else.

i know i'm going crazy

but i don't know what else to do. with all my time looking into glowing screens. all social relationships deteriorated. we live so we can die. i keep starting over and it keeps getting worse. it seems like sticking it out isn't an option, when it is the only option life has to offer. the good times killed me. the fact that they began to spread themselves out so thin.

he doesn't smoke.

at 36 he owns his own company, has a 25 year old girlfriend, goes on 3 hour runs, and thinks i want to be like him. he has no idea. i'd rather be a crackwhore.

some things don't come naturally

the things of this world that everyone does. i keep find myself having to force them. if left to my own exploration of things in a vacuum of a world, i don't think i'd do them at all. i'm not sure what i'd do. probably just give it all back. here you go, you can take it.

i didn't eat much of anything for a long while.

he was just talking. about the 60's, after his parents kicked him out. he was a teenager. some guy gave him 10,000 hits of lsd. it was easy to get rid of. all those sheets. he was talking about how he used to travel around, living out of his car. some of his story didn't make sense. there were holes and exaggerations which were obvious. i didn't say anything though. he was drunk. it's allowed. sometimes life's better as a story told drunk in a car, on the way to a bar where you will drink more and think back on the people who have come and gone along the way. it mostly seems stupid going through it.

she's unreasonable, so whatever.

they're all doing their thing. sitting at bars, drinking drinks, getting upset and walking home. little battles won and lost. someone will want you, it's only a matter of time.

a question for the elders

do you ever stop having dreams about old lovers?

love = 0

math is logic. zero is infinite nothing. we're drifting around making calculations with our movements, trying to subtract the difference between ourselves and something else. trying to fill the negative with positive by creating something, let it represent us. it is a complicated equation we are performing every moment. we are rounding, creating variables and rules as we go. even so, the distance between ourselves and everything else is always greater than zero.