Desultory and Impulsive

[JustAnotherFlower]

You've been busy while I've been away.. I have a lot of catching up to do.

 

[y=mx+b]

You've been busy while I've been away.. I have a lot of catching up to do.

Yeah.
I may have gone off the rails there for a bit.

 

[y=mx+b]

I used to wonder how the fuck my father could work outside in the cold and snow without gloves fucking with shit that needed to be fixed.

Not so much anymore.

Heading back to the shop now.

Will probably stop for some coffee and snacks.


Later my squares.

 

[y=mx+b]

In the back of my mind there has always been this notion that my thread glorifies/romanticizes violence against women.

And as headlines and stories continue to emerge I wonder if I should just shut down this impulse of mine to share and keep to myself.

 

[y=mx+b]

My thoughts and words
Aren't changing lives
Or making the world a better place.

 

[Massive Grooves]

You want to change lives?

 

[y=mx+b]

You want to change lives?

Yeah... I can't say that I really do.



Well... if it was for the better.

 

[JustAnotherFlower]

In the back of my mind there has always been this notion that my thread glorifies/romanticizes violence against women.

And as headlines and stories continue to emerge I wonder if I should just shut down this impulse of mine to share and keep to myself.

My thoughts and words
Aren't changing lives
Or making the world a better place.

Words have a crazy way of eating us alive if we don't let them out somewhere. Here is better than a post-it destined for a rubish bin.

 

[AmazingLost]

In the back of my mind there has always been this notion that my thread glorifies/romanticizes violence against women.

And as headlines and stories continue to emerge I wonder if I should just shut down this impulse of mine to share and keep to myself.

It certainly seems to dehumanize them, but that seems to be the purpose of most porn...

 

[y=mx+b]

Words have a crazy way of eating us alive if we don't let them out somewhere. Here is better than a post-it destined for a rubish bin.

It's not so much the words
As it is the feelings that provoke them to come out.

I oft think back to a time before the internet.

How I would write
And how I would write sometimes thinking I was good.

Though we had a shitty computer
My tool of choice was my father's Smith-Corona typewriter

It wasn't electric
Came in a black plastic suitcase

I loved that thing so goddamn much
I typed pages and pages of everything in my goddamn head. All of it making less sense as everything I write here.

None of it destine... or really intended to be read. Nary a desire to become a writer... author... poet.

Disjunct absurdism

Hammering away
The tippity-tap of each key striking each arm firing each hammer pounding and printing a letter on a blank page

Sometimes so goddamn hard the letter would be pounded through the paper

Absolute raw and violent and beautiful

On an absolute bender
No drugs
No coffee
No woman
No sex

Just me
And that thing
Stuck in intimacy
Dancing a dance of emotion
Alone

No key strokes being counted and recorded
No mother-algorithm observing
No undetected malware watching and waiting.


I've no idea where any of it is.

Much of it... lost. Thrown away.


I write so goddamn much.

Dead end dialog
Streams of alliteration
Stalking sick sounds of thoughts in my sleep making me meander miles upon miles each minute minus the ones where I get lost at work asking questions about torque specs and other oddball things between banter with my co-workers...

Shit like that
Useless for any reader to really read.

And so all of that just to reply:

Better here than on a post-it note destined for a rubish bin?

That's debatable.

 

[y=mx+b]

It certainly seems to dehumanize them, but that seems to be the purpose of most porn...

I don't want to be porn.
Has never been my aim. But I guess when one doesn't have a target one is provided.

 

[y=mx+b]

In other news...

Time to trim the pubes fore this hath been thee twice nite enarow thyne hath zippered them up into my fly upon having to decide to retire for the nite free of undergarments post shower.

 

[y=mx+b]

Lastly...

...and perhaps serve to counter the predominate impression I put forth of myself...

I'd sign up for this

 

[y=mx+b]

She
In her way said-

"I no longer wish to know you."

Giving me little choice
But to become someone
She knew of.

 

[y=mx+b]

Found some cringe worthy dumb shit...

Circa... I don't know.

 

[y=mx+b]

Oh...

And this one

 

[y=mx+b]

I love waking up early
Having no other want or need
But to lay next to her naked

The house is a mess
And I honestly don't care.

I used to care
Care about appearances
...and accomplishments

But at this point in my life
I'm pretty much over it
And everyone seems to like me more.

 

[y=mx+b]

That last post wasn't entirely true.

I got too much shit
And a lot of it I just plain want to throw the fuck away.

 

[y=mx+b]

I wish I did more fucking than meme scrolling.


What has my life become?

 

[y=mx+b]

Speaking of meme scrolling...

and as one that scores square solidly as an INFP on those damn tests all the time...

 

[JustAnotherFlower]

So.. what will you do with your stacks and stacks of typewritten pages? Create a manifesto? A bonfire in honor of damns that were once given?

 

[y=mx+b]

Had a thought while at work.

It's not like I'm masturbating to snuff porn and Faces of Death.

Actually I saw about 20 minutes of Faces of Death and I was like... yep I'm done with this.

Death doesn't make me horny. Not at all really. Death fucking blows. Loss fucking blows.

And the more I think about it
The more knee-jerk I think the meme creator was.

If I were to correct it
I'd say that intimacy is what makes us INFP types horny. (Death; being, quite intimate)

Sadism--to me--is impossibly intimate.

To be in the company of another human being seeking to feel something. Trusting themselves in my hands. Being able to provide them with that something the desire to feel.

Watching them sink into it. Make love to it. Forget to it
What it was
It had taken away from them.







That's the kind of Death
That turns me on.

 

[y=mx+b]

So.. what will you do with your stacks and stacks of typewritten pages? Create a manifesto? A bonfire in honor of damns that were once given?

Heavily leaning towards burning. It's all just.... dumb.

 

[JustAnotherFlower]

Heavily leaning towards burning. It's all just.... dumb.

It's all from a phase you've grown from. Read them as you feed them to the flames and bask the ashes of the past.

 

[Chillygirl]

It's not like I'm masturbating to snuff porn and Faces of Death.*

Actually I saw about 20 minutes of Faces of Death and I was like... yep I'm done with this.

Death doesn't make me horny.* Not at all really.* Death fucking blows.* Loss fucking blows.*

And the more I think about it
The more knee-jerk I think the meme creator was.*

If I were to correct it
I'd say that intimacy is what makes us INFP types horny.* (Death; being, quite intimate)

Sadism--to me--is impossibly intimate.

To be in the company of another human being seeking to feel something.* Trusting themselves in my hands.* Being able to provide them with that something the desire to feel.*

Watching them sink into it.* Make love to it. Forget to it
What it was
It had taken away from them.*







That's the kind of Death
That turns me on.

There is something...that connection, that vulnerability....it can destroy you.