October 15th, 2004

insane

(no subject)

Long day.

Cleaning the bedroom. Jess came over, and put saveau and I to work, and it was nigh unto magical what got done.

Several 39-gallon trash bags full. From one room. And still not done.

Barb came back. She is... unsettled.

Good.

Won't be finishing the foundation wall forms. Maybe get halfway done.

Spent time with Tony & Kristi tonight, Tony's birthday.

Tomorrow to try and get the boiler hooked up and running, then a quickie haunt crawl and over to the Arkham Asylum for some Cajones time.

Exhausted. Disappointed. Frustrated. Learned a lot about myself this week. Not all of it good. Some of it very good.

Wish I could write more. Too many things blathering through my brain. I'll sort them out after I get back to the apartment.
insane

(no subject)

( bullet got the wrong bloke )

life kid suck
drink from the box
the juice kicks up
life give suck the box drink
yeah
life kid drink from the box
the juice kicks up
life kids sucker
box drink
yeah
bruce lee

life kid seen from the box
seen from the box
the juice from the box
kids suck life
kid get suck from the box
drink
bruce lee

life kid suck from the box
drink from the box
the juice kicks up
life kid suck from the box
drink
yeah
bruce lee

life gets in from the box
seen from the box
the juice from the box
kids suck life
kid get suck from the box
drink
bruce lee
life kid suck from the box
drink from the box
the juice kicks up
life kid suck from the box
drink
yeah
bruce lee

( yeah yeah yeah yeah )

life kid suck from the box
drink from the box
the juice kicks up
life kid suck from the box
yeah
bruce lee
life kid ?? from the box
seen from the box
drink from the box
the juice kid suck
life kid suck the box
drink
yeah
bruce lee

tanglon

life kid suck the box [x8]
from the box

( skin hard sails in jail )
( hair always cut with a blunt tool )
( muscular but thin like springs )
( but not steel )
( for ford men )
( four ford men )
( they sell it into vaporizing rulers )
( each way up in his own head )
( hold up in its fly flicking markses )
( piggy little piggy little eyes )
( holds and scape )
( hole in skin )
( just enough to let in light )
( bullet got the wrong bloke )
( but he don't die anyway )
( its nothing mortal if you don't move )
( you still have slot the wall in a blanket )
( I have been this way for days )

STIFF STIFF STIFF STIFF STIFF...

( bullet got the wrong bloke )
( it's happenned mortuary, you die it means )
( skin has it off the wall and it goes like this )
( I have been this way for days )
(oh no, there's a gun )
( over there under the bed )
( turn, let's see what's in the other room )
( he grew up faster )
( just the disco with the one get my rope )
( pull through again )
( a third rat a fourth to his head is calm the sheets of calm )
( bullet got the wrong bloke )
( he's out of the eyes now )
( strained gas on his head )
( It's dark, he comes up with his darkness...)

life kid suck from the box
drink from the box
the juice kid suck
life kid suck the box
yeah
bruce lee
tanglon
insane

(no subject)

I scream
I scream
I scream so much
you know what I mean this electric stream
and my tears in league with the
wires and energy and my machine
this is my beautiful dream
im hurting no one
hurting no one
hurting no one
hurting no one
I want to give you everything
I want to give you energy
I want to give a good thing
I want to give you everything

everythingeverythingeverythingeverythingeverythingeverythingeverything

in one final scream of love who could climb
this high she looks beautiful like a child
I feel tears
and I want to scream
you know what I mean cause this is hurting no one
am, an erazor of love

hurt the necessary feeling
insane

(no subject)

What is it with 4:22 AM?

I wake up.

Devastated, destroyed, yet somehow reborn.

I hate when good books die.

It is a puzzlement, this devastation. A frustrating window into my lack of control, and a lesson that things are sometimes beyond my capabilities.
A week away from work. A week of working on the house. A week of being forced to think on my feet, to do on my feet, to provide solutions to problems that are beyond the scope of what I imagined.
Loss of control. Or the loss of the illusion of control. Delays, perhaps not inevitable, but humbling in their intensity. And the realization that the limits are artificial, self imposed.

A lesson then.

The analogy between the house and myself needing repair is not lost to me.

I have been asked by several friends why I bother fixing up the house. Why I don't just sell it as-is and put the effort into building a new house.

It's a good question.

Given the right time and tools, I believe that there really isn't anything I can't do. And I believe that this house is structurally sound (other than the whole front porch foundation thing).
But more than that, it's a challenge of responsibility.
I understand the mechanics. I'm in a mode where I have to take control of my life, and take responsibility for what I have made (or allowed to) come into my life.

And apparently I have to also learn that control is an entirely relative thing.

Hubris is a bitch.
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