MOVED!!!!!

Here we go.

moving

While I tried to make my life here at Blogger work for me, sadly it hasn't. It's been two months since I made the transition from the Wordpress account to this one, but not to much advantage. I'm once again, moving from the blogger account to a WordPress account. Sadly, this is something I feel that needs to be done.

Hopefully, however, I will be kind and only make a small list of tags and categories.


(somehow I find this doubtful)

And I've never gotten used to it, I've just learned to turn it off

"If you see here, say hello." I recline back and think for a second that maybe things might shape up, but who am I kidding? There isn't anything here for me and maybe there never was. Or is there. With constant confusion, I've being pulled by the elements and I'm left to wonder what the hell's going to happen now. I know there isn't a single thing for me to think about at this moment, but at the beach I both missed Jyg and easily put her out of my mind. The Squid has that power, by the way. The kid, not matter how much of a ruckus and a fit she can cause, still manages to make me happy. And each day I'm pulling away from what I want because what I want is becoming too corrosive for me. And yet, while I try my best to say I don't love her anymore, the truth of the matter is she still holds whatever tatter bits are left of this heart. When did this blog become about holding onto the past? Isn't it supposed to look forward towards the future?

If you get close to her, kiss her once for me
I always have respected her for busting out and gettin' free
Oh, whatever makes her happy, I won't stand in the way
Though the bitter taste still lingers on from the night I tried to make her stay.

A day at the beach:

Philosopher and I had decided to go on our own instead of inviting Doll and the Binx. It was going to be us and the Squid who was excited on the whole trip there. We stopped at the same Whataburger we tend to stop by whenever we go to the island. When we got there, we noticed that the shoreline, which is normally at the shoreline, migrated north, getting dangerously close to the sand dunes. We took the Squid in and played, and in the process hurting my back, which wasn't a big deal, but meant I couldn't handle her for too long. When a wave finally hit the car, we decided it was time to pack up and think a plan over. We ate sandwiches and Squid had herself a Dora head cookie. I find such cookies morbidly wrong. We were constantly stared by an old man who sat across from us and that gave me the creeps. Every so often, I'd raise my head and make eye contact and he'd shrug off and turn towards the waves. Squid then maanged to scarf down a bag of M&M's which she lovingly calls Ms.

We drove back onto the sand, hoping that the tide had calmed and for the most part, it had. Squid, feeling urge to take on her nickname's purpose, decided she wanted back into the water, where she managed to puke up some of that chocolate she had stuffed in her belly. I'm sure had I not seen it, or Philosopher for that matter, she wouldn't have announced her regurgitation. Philosopher washed off her face and we went back to the sand to make sand castles by the car. After a while longer of that, we returned to brave the strong waves. Squid, once again taking on the meaning of her name, became rather slippery and even heavier as she would drop down and not stand on her own. Once the happiness became too much for any of us to handle, we sat on the shoreline and dug for "snails" which were actually clams. After a while, Philosopher and I saw something floating not to far away from where we sat. I said it was a balloon, but was really a condom filled with air and salt water. Then a wave decided to rough house us, taking us by surprise, and knocking us over - Squid was sitting on my lap - and was the deciding factor it was time to pack up and go home.

On the way from the Island, I saw a cat, merely out of kitten form, pawing up at the sky in dire need of assistance as it had been hit by a car. We were on the expressway and there was no salvation for the animal.

Don't think too hard, if you think it hurts that bad
Don't talk about it, don't let it get you down
It's only one part, of the story
Just let it go, don't let this get you down now.

I send cryptic messages to myself

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'

I've been thinking a lot about the future and I know in reality this whole road trip to wherever is just me running away. However, I have this sickening feeling that I'm going to wind up in a verse from "Not Dark Yet." I'm going to wake up one day in a strange bed and sit up and grab whatever beverage I'm drinking at the time and that those 14 words will hollow at me like a shot gun to the head:

I was born here and I'll die here against my will
I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still
Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb
I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from
Don't even hear a murmur of a prayer
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there.

I think the old man's younger self is sending me cryptic messages in his lyrics, as if the words are so universal that they've managed to set themselves upon my days. And while I've said I'll commit suicide to his "Mr. Tambourine Man," I think that his words at this moment are gleefully welcomed. Despite my sudden depression, these small bouts of self-loathing, I've come to realized that this isn't what I wanted. And it's not what I needed. I've created an angel in a person that is completely flawed like myself. And I know what my heart wants and what it desires, and it's beginning to scare me more and more each day. I just needed to hear something, to feel something. And I think that something for me is out of reach. And it's not at all that weird, if you really think about it.

Go melt back into the night, babe,
Everything inside is made of stone.
There's nothing in here moving
An' anyway I'm not alone.
You say you're looking for someone
Who'll pick you up each time you fall,
To gather flowers constantly
An' to come each time you call,
A lover for your life an' nothing more,
But it ain't me, babe,
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

What a situation, I found myself in, hu Mr. Tambourine Man?

Urges

Need to get some writing down. I haven't written about anything in a while. I think the first thing I should write is the list of things I need. I know I never get any reading done when I'm out, but I feel naked without a book. Then there's the pens and paper (I have two journals so I'll just need one of those). I gotta find my other baseball cap. I need to think things straight and figure out what to do there.

Hey Mr. Tambourine Man (Play a song for me)

There isn't a single track of all music history that I'd rather off myself than Mr. Tambourine Man. Besides its heavy drug overtones, I hear a song of melancholy. The dreadful decay of a person who wants so badly to continue on but without the aid of the drug, the narrator doesn't have the nerve. A song about heroin withdrawal never sounded beautifully. Each time I hear this song, I picture a man at this last moments, cradling his arm, his gun, his chest, himself as the last breaths are escaping him. Yes. That's exactly what I'd like to listen to as I am dying.

This one's for you, dear

I've been so defiant when it comes to taking medication for my depression. I'm aware that pills help some people, but it's not a natural feeling for me. "Feel like yourself again," the slogan reads. That's funny, I think. I thought that's what I was trying to escape.

I walk around in the morning feeling a sense of emptiness. With Jyg removed from the equation, I feel like a weight has been lifted and a void has begun to eat away my heart. Perhaps it's time I thought about pills. Or better yet, allowed myself to smoke cannabis as ingesting it will only cause hallucinations.

I'm no sure of much these days. I get these mixed signals that I'm sure are just of my own vulnerable imagination. I'm also so sick of hearing people telling me I deserve better as if I didn't know that already. What I deserve and what I want are two different things. I don't want to fuck up what I deserve; I have no problem fucking up what I want as it's already been fucked.