Desultory and Impulsive

[y=mx+b]

Listen up fuckers.

I'm blowing this pop stand to battle my demons alone. On paper. Like I once did.

I can't say I like the idea as I enjoy writing for an audience that may or may not be there. With it come a sense of being someone. And I really really like that feeling.

At the same time; however, what I write here is written with that audience or an individual in mind and not so much for myself.

So it is time to do just that.
Time to stop exploiting myself
Time to stop giving so much of myself away.

If I write anything decent perhaps I'll scan it or transcribe it for you to read.


But I doubt it.
What I will probably do is submit it for publication.

Who knows.



As kitschy as such thing have always struck me I shall follow suit and end things on a musical note.

In spite of my friend looking... well looking as though he had cancer, he was still very much the same guy I had come to love as a friend. We reconnected but with the possibility of the inevitable we did so condionally. Following his posts on Facebook had been painful. It wasn't like in the movies, or like many others that found peace with dying. Yes, he accepted the fact but he didn't let go of the fear. And that's one of the ways we connected. Life was bullshit and not something you bullshitted about. He expressed himself honestly and time and again without fail there would be a large contingent doing what they could to blow smoke up his ass with encouragement to stay hopeful followed by promises of thoughts and prayers.

I would get so pissed but with it came the comfort of him knowing that I would and me knowing he didn't need me to say anything because he wasn't writing for pitty or prayers. He was writing because he needed it to be said. And that is all.

I really thought he would have made it longer than he had. I really thought he would still be alive after we made the move back home. I really thought I would get the chance to thank him personally for introducing me to everything that I like about myself.

So... this is it. This is where I am at once again. Only older and broken in so many ways that it's actually quite beautiful. And in just as many ways I hate how much more applicable this song is now than it was when it would shut us up in reflection of who we were, when we were where we were.



http://youtu.be/_NWjehpGSO0

 

[Corbal]

I do not know you from Adam, and I've only recently caught on to the brilliance that lives inside of your head and the worn heart you wear on your sleeve. Of course, this comes from my short-lived perception of you and I could be way off the mark.

That aside, reading what you've written forced me to pay attention. So little on Lit captures that in me and I'm somewhat bothered to see it go. I also understand leaving Lit for spells to reflect and, well, fucking live. I do hope you return at some point and share again.

It's worth the ride and the fall...its real and raw.

That's fucking dope.

 

[y=mx+b]

Nice thighs...

Excellent choice for a profile pic.

 

[y=mx+b]

I find myself wanting to feel them fighting me off. Struggling to stay closed.

 

[y=mx+b]

When I touch you.

When I touch you
Everything I have ever touched
Touches you

The cinder blocks that I carried
The bundles of roofing shingles

The knives that I held
The ropes I've tied

The cords of wood that I have split
The cords of wood that I have stacked

The guns that I have held, loaded, and shot

Hay twine
Cutting into
The bend of my fingers

The shovel and post hole digger
The ax and splitting maul

The hammer and sledgehammer

The steering wheel of an 18 wheeler
The one-inch impact wrench

Sheet rock and lumber and rolls of barbed wire

Sheets of aluminum
And pop-riveters

Blowtorches and welding rods

All of everything that I was
And continue to be
Touches you

It touches you
To feel you

To forget what it all
Will always be

Just to once
Not know

To become lost
And forget

Just once
To feel what could have been
If it could have been
Something other
Than what it was.

 

[Wife of Bath]

When I was filling out the form for this new exercise class, the girl at the desk asked me, all earnest and genuine,


"Do you have any injuries?"

I laughed. Then paused in reflection.

"Nothing relevant to this class, no."

 

[rubydlite]

I find myself wanting to feel them fighting me off. Struggling to stay closed.

'I had a dream last night...'

 

[clistenovena]

A partially opened door can, at times, allow for the view of the same someone, albeit from a different perspective...and still be as prepossessing.

 

[y=mx+b]

Star Date: 09.13.16

Sitting in the corner on the floor of sleeping quarters.
Yet unable to see doctor
Medication low. Been rationing them for the last few days in hopes that by the time I run out I will have acclimated and better able to cope.

Pushed away friend in an effort to keep her safe.
Hate that I have to
She never comes back as close as she once was.

But it's better than her not allowing herself to come back at all.

She has others.
Her needs will be met.


Thought about putting the bell collar on our cat to give the more timid one warning prior to being attacked. Thought better of it as it would keep me up all night as she sleeps in our bedroom. Cats fighting isn't really an issue anyway as they keep to themselves.

Brother-in-law is staying throughout the week.
Perhaps throughout the weekend.
That is all I have to say.

Took photos of extended family while they visited
Why I get conscripted all the time when everyone else has a better camera on their phone is beyond me but whatever.

It's been about a week and I've not touched them. Certainly patience is being lost.
One of the perks about being undermedicated is not caring at all about such particular matters.






Up until I do.

 

[y=mx+b]

I saw that my wife...

was becoming upset as she was trying to get her things ready for work tomorrow. It'll be her third day at her new job and though she's highly skilled and more than adequate for the position no body likes to be the new kid.

That on top of readjusting to the move back
And on top of my issues
On top of the fear of doing something wrong at any given moment
On top of beating her self up for feeling as though she's done something wrong because otherwise she would have all her shit and all the shit that's making my life a mess all together but everything is not all together and our lives are messes because of something she has done or didn't do and it's all her fault because she can't find the CD that's part of a set...

And I see this and though she says the CD isn't a big deal I find it where I knew she left it though I didn't so much know for certain but rather felt I knew and I was correct and I gave it to her saying "because it's about order." And her eye get glassy and I extend my arms, palms out so that her walking into a hug was just that.

And I held her
And felt her breathing
And felt her sink into me
And felt her shoulders relax
And felt her become still
And I held her

 

[y=mx+b]

Cat was scratching at the door...

wanting to get out.

It was too early to start the day

Got up to take a piss
Came back to an empty bed

I was certain my wife was still asleep before I got out of bed
Even took the steps to be careful not to disturb her from sleeping
Even though she sleeps like a stone

Figured she got up and was in the kitchen making coffee
The cat was still scratching at the door

I laid in bed waiting for my wife to make her way back into the bedroom
The cat gave up
And jumped back on the bed to where she is laying now
Right next to me

Where my wife would be laying


She never did return

She was gone

I checked the time and discovered it to be right when she would have to leave if she were to make it to work on time.

But I never heard a car leave
I never heard any frantic sounds of being late

I didn't hear anything but the cat


The most probable fact is that her getting up and leaving for work on time was what started the process of waking me up and by the time I got up she was safely on her way.

Yet I still feel as though she had been sleep soundly right next to me mere moments ago

I didn't hear her alarm go off
I didn't feel her get out of bed

And she's gone.








This is where I say something like... "just like my father the night he died as I quietly slept throughout the night."


Although true
I feel it to be a cheap hit served only to solicit pity
Which is not how I want any of you to feel for me. Ever.


Nevertheless
It does feel as though she was taken from me
...that I woke up comforted by what turned out to be just a ghost of her.

What if it was?
What if she was involved in an accident on her way to work?

What if I am now alone?

 

[y=mx+b]

Update

...for those overly concerned folks in the shadows.

Wife shot a text telling me to eat the taco meat in the casserole dish to make more room in the fridge.

So breath a deep sigh of harlequin romance relief that she made it safely to work and all is well and tend to your multiple cats as you debate whether or not to go with the angora blend or the alpaca blend on your next knit-picks purchase.

Love you!

 

[raindancer]

I never visit other boards, outside of the GB. Today, I wandered over and found this gem of a thread.

The honesty, beauty, complexities...I really enjoyed reading and felt a bit like a voyeur.

Your photographs are wonderful, as well. Thank you for letting me peek into your world.

 

[y=mx+b]

I went into barn...

like I said I would

I stood there quietly
Listening for your lungs to fill
With the air that I was breathing.

Warming inside of you

Your body
Taking in
What it needed

Casting off what you didn't


You were there like I said you would be

Barefoot
And naked

Fallen empty cob webs
Brushing up against your shoulder
and collecting there until you brushed them off.


I don't want you to be afraid of me.

But I understand why you are
You have every reason to be

I don't trust myself with you.

I would hurt you

And make you feel small.


I would make you touch yourself with things that I wanted to see inside of you.
I would make you straddle things until they became lubricated by your body.

I would share with you my intimate memories of how they were otherwise used
Of how there was this one winters day when I was working with my father framing up the walls of a farmhouse we were remodeling.

It was so cold that I kept dropping the hammer each time I pulled it out of my utility belt.

You see... you can't pound nails wearing gloves and my fingers were so numb-white that I wasn't able to feel anything.

Trying to pull nails out of my side pouch was another joke. It got to the point of just reaching in, grabbing a handful as tight as possible. What you didn't push into your hand dropped to the ground. What did you were able to keep to be used.

I still have that hammer. The handle has a good length to it.


And then there were the times of having to ramshackle rig up a pully system to hoist supplies up to another level.

 

[rubydlite]

like I said I would

I stood there quietly
Listening for your lungs to fill
With the air that I was breathing.

Warming inside of you

Your body
Taking in
What it needed

Casting off what you didn't


You were there like I said you would be

Barefoot
And naked

Fallen empty cob webs
Brushing up against your shoulder
and collecting there until you brushed them off.


I don't want you to be afraid of me.

But I understand why you are
You have every reason to be

I don't trust myself with you.

I would hurt you

And make you feel small.


I would make you touch yourself with things that I wanted to see inside of you.
I would make you straddle things until they became lubricated by your body.

I would share with you my intimate memories of how they were otherwise used
Of how there was this one winters day when I was working with my father framing up the walls of a farmhouse we were remodeling.

It was so cold that I kept dropping the hammer each time I pulled it out of my utility belt.

You see... you can't pound nails wearing gloves and my fingers were so numb-white that I wasn't able to feel anything.

Trying to pull nails out of my side pouch was another joke. It got to the point of just reaching in, grabbing a handful as tight as possible. What you didn't push into your hand dropped to the ground. What did you were able to keep to be used.

I still have that hammer. The handle has a good length to it.


And then there were the times of having to ramshackle rig up a pully system to hoist supplies up to another level.

I'm a fan...

 

[y=mx+b]

I never visit other boards, outside of the GB. Today, I wandered over and found this gem of a thread.

The honesty, beauty, complexities...I really enjoyed reading and felt a bit like a voyeur.

Your photographs are wonderful, as well. Thank you for letting me peek into your world.

I am glad you wandered this way.

 

[y=mx+b]

I'm a fan...

And I am pleased that you are.

 

[LizzieEr]

like I said I would

I stood there quietly
Listening for your lungs to fill
With the air that I was breathing.

Warming inside of you

Your body
Taking in
What it needed

Casting off what you didn't


You were there like I said you would be

Barefoot
And naked

Fallen empty cob webs
Brushing up against your shoulder
and collecting there until you brushed them off.


I don't want you to be afraid of me.

But I understand why you are
You have every reason to be

I don't trust myself with you.

I would hurt you

And make you feel small.


I would make you touch yourself with things that I wanted to see inside of you.
I would make you straddle things until they became lubricated by your body.

I would share with you my intimate memories of how they were otherwise used
Of how there was this one winters day when I was working with my father framing up the walls of a farmhouse we were remodeling.

It was so cold that I kept dropping the hammer each time I pulled it out of my utility belt.

You see... you can't pound nails wearing gloves and my fingers were so numb-white that I wasn't able to feel anything.

Trying to pull nails out of my side pouch was another joke. It got to the point of just reaching in, grabbing a handful as tight as possible. What you didn't push into your hand dropped to the ground. What did you were able to keep to be used.

I still have that hammer. The handle has a good length to it.


And then there were the times of having to ramshackle rig up a pully system to hoist supplies up to another level.

Sharing the air, the hammer, the rope and your memories... curious minds would be intrigued enough to wander in regardless of the shiver down the spine.

 

[y=mx+b]

I have something to confess

I am not nearly as dominant as I make myself out to be.

Fact of the matter is that if any of you in need of dominant structure and order were to show up at my doorstep and made yourself available to me I'd pretty much react the same way I did the first time that happened.

And how was that you ask?

Fucking cluelessly.

I seriously thought "fuck my life how did I fucking get myself into this bullshit? she's experienced... I'm just a fucking hay seed."

And that's the goddamn truth.

She seemingly fell for it and I was able to build off the bullshit I initially laid down from there on.



The only thing I really am is creative in thought. I'm not even nearly as hard labored as I've mentioned. Yes I know the life and have lived the life and continue to do so, so... well... I guess that part is true.

And now that I think about it... all that other shit is true as well I guess. The thing is that there is no way I am able to live it out. My wife only goes so far and so much and not one able to grasp the pageantry required.

Which is fine.




Even though I want to screen NO IT FUCKING ISN'T!







Actually if I am to be all the more honest I lean more towards the sadist side of things. The idea of doing things to women that they all want to be done to them appeals to me greatly.



So.... yeah. Fuck it.
I am everything you all probably think I am.

 

[y=mx+b]

I woke up...

which means this could go anywhere

But before it does I want you all to know that I have been feeling incredibly stupid with each post I have made. And as per usual I only have myself to blame.

I mean my Listen up fuckers post looms large up there and yeah... here I am.

I don't want to be here
I honestly don't

I want to be outside of here
I want to be outside of me

I don't like this
I don't like cutting myself open all the time

But as much as I don't like it
There is nowhere else to go.


All this is honest to fuck the reality inside of my head
And it goes nowhere
Produces nothing
Is of zero intrinsic value
And made a mockery in real life.

Nothing good comes of it
And the more it is celebrated
The more I disdain it

I am sorry you like it.
Thank you?

I am so full of myself which is so full of shit
So to answer your question...

Yes I see it.

I see it every goddamn day of this life my dead friend could have lived better.


And so here I am.

 

[y=mx+b]

For the record...

Elizabeth.

Few are.

 

[LizzieEr]

Elizabeth.

Few are.

Oh!
Few are indeed.

 

[y=mx+b]

Seeing how I...

subjected those of you who continued to subject yourselves to my cathartic, self-indulgent, nihilistic, arrogant, whiny, wrist-slittingly depressive, eye roll inducing, Mazzy Star on repeat, blues jam as of late...

Here's a sun shiny little picture of me.

 

[Corbal]

subjected those of you who continued to subject yourselves to my cathartic, self-indulgent, nihilistic, arrogant, whiny, wrist-slittingly depressive, eye roll inducing, Mazzy Star on repeat, blues jam as of late...

Here's a sun shiny little picture of me.

....and a white blank page.

There is a tune titled as such. Listen. Then write.

 

[y=mx+b]

....and a white blank page.

There is a tune titled as such. Listen. Then write.

Heard it.

Rung too true.

Sent me to the gym to forget it all.


Thanks for the reminder

Haven't been to the gym for quite some time now.