Wednesday, January 12, 2005

No Heros, no leaders, no artists, no gods....I'm a worker, you're a worker. Wouldn't you like to be a worker, too?

Trying to find the time... for myself....yes, self. I started thinking about this post after watching an ancient Prodigy video (circa 1997). Yeah, Firestarter. I remembered watching this very video with the infamous Fishwah on New Years Eve '98. What happened to THAT music? Techno/Dance, mmmm. It seems to have morfed into pile driven ambient slush. What a shame? Am I too old for a rave?

On to Supergrass "I spent too much time wondering why I've got an opinion, yeah"

The house that I call home is a virtual petri dish of viral hell, I tell you. I no sooner get over the plague and my kid is hacking all over me with something new. If he was a stranger, I would be running away screaming. Instead, I tell him to cover his mouth constantly, and to stop coughing directly into my mouth. Ick. I will not get sick again, I will not! I don't care what the Today Show says. I WILL be immune!

All is quiet in the other room. There must be a really good video on. Good.
I will be resuming my work load this week. This is also good. I miss it. There is a new dawn on the horizon. Oh me, oh my.
Punk rock is fun. hahahaha. It soothes grated nerves.
My sons voice is beginning to sound like Deborah Winger's. Hack, hack. Maybe I can institute a coughing room that he can hack in and I can seal, Child Protective Services may not approve.
Ooohhh, my self is being sucked back to the others in this household. Must go tend to familial obligations.
The fog may be thick outside, but at least the haze is clearing from my head.

Thursday, January 06, 2005

Ha-ha, Ha-ha, The joke has come upon me....

"I think about the life I've led, and how my soul's been leaking out the holes where I had bled".

courtesy of Black Francis.

I stand at the threshold, looking both ways...once, twice, three times. I still don't move. There is no traffic, and no hand to hold. Old souls gather behind me, future soul stands before me. It has the answers, I know it. But how do I get there? Dora has her backpack, which holds her map. She makes it look so easy. Maybe it is. If I take the first step, I know I can never go back.

Indifference. I believe it came my way the day I stepped out of a marriage I once had. I never really wanted that marriage, yet it haunts me to this day. My mind is perferated with it between my birthday to the anniversary date each year. It comes to me repeatedly in my dreams, at times, I beg for it to stop. I tell myself that I have dealt with it, but it's a lie. If I had, it wouldn't come back, right? Maybe it is the other parties involved who haven't dealt with it, and it is their issues which are pressing down on me. Each one comes to me, with their own twisted bend on how my life should be. I often feel that my son isn't safe, as many of their topics revolve around him. "He is the innocent- he does not pay for me" I tell them in numerous dream states. The dream field seems unstable, just like my current reality.

When I was younger, I always felt like I was running out of time. Now, I feel like I am just waiting. For what, I don't know. Maybe I am tired, and want others to do for me. My soul tells me I need to do it myself. I long for the world without checkbooks. It is a far easier world, I have seen it. I tried living in it, but like every tourist I needed to return home. My visa had expired. So now, I am home. I'm not enjoying it much at this time. It's like a cage, and all the creepiness is the lessons that I must learn in order to visit that land again. I can't help feeling cheated. Being home, in this body is indeed the foreign land to me. I had been away so long I had almost forgotten the language and the customs. Those who love me say it is good that I've come back- they have missed me. I am honest with them. I have missed them too, but I have come back to complete the mission so I can again return to the the place that is to be my next home. I can't explain why- it is what I feel.

"Your head will collapse if there is nothing in it. And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind?"