SocraTurtle says: (13:20:45)
what is it with some of the girls i hang around with and cupcakes.. one has an avatar as a cupcake, another has it in msn nick another is in email and another is raving on about them now..where do they get these things? wtf is in them?? IS IT BETTER THAN SEX??! o_____o
SocraTurtle says: (13:22:29)
*grabs nadira by the shoulders and shakes her*
tell me! i must.. know~
Rabbit Bones says: (13:40:25)
Erm.. well, cupcakes have replaced cakes. People don't really order birthday cakes now, multiple cupcakes are really in. Even my mom makes them to sell. Cupcakes are kinda dirty, in a way. Cake is supposed to be scrumptious but they're too big and therefore suggest gluttony, whereas cupcakes suggest sensual luxuries where you can lick the frosting off, eat a little then throw away the paper and have greasy cake sex.
SocraTurtle says: (13:42:54)
yeah I suppose chugging a whole blackforest and rolling around in it and then trying to fuck would not go well
Rabbit Bones says: (13:43:11)
Like that fat kid in Mathilda. No frickin way can that boy find his own dick! A big hunk of chocolate cake isn't sexy, it's consolation for not getting sex whereas chocolate cupcakes can be aphrodisiacs.
Rabbit Bones says: (13:43:51)
Cake can go both ways, you see.
SocraTurtle says: (13:45:43)
I'm
SocraTurtle says: (13:46:16)
wow
--------------------------------------------------
Yes, Daniel. You are "wow".
I hate texting people but now I'm also starting to resent calling people because it's such a rare occurrence for people to answer their cellphones or to not be busy. Perhaps it's combined with the conditioning of people not wanting to take my calls. Not that those people are important to me anymore. Right now, it's funny. It's like I'm in this funky place in life where sincerity is so scarce. I'm laughing again because I'm angry, disappointed and laughing is going to make it go away, if not my concerns over these petty matters will.
It's a dark place to be when you don't believe in love or relationships anymore. Not that I really don't, it's just that I've been conditioned. It's not about finding someone, the right person will come along soon blah blah whatever, it's the emotional/mental blockage that I'm at now that is so interesting because conditioning is evidence of the very real distinction between the conscious and subconscious; that subconsciously I really feel like every guy just wants to get into my pants and kick my dignity to the floor but on the other hand, I know that men are capable of love and sincerity too. Another aspect of this funk I'm going through now is with vomited philosophies and ideas. People need to be larger representatives of their philosophies rather than being geeks who cite Nietzche over coffee and biscotti and then let their words evaporate into thin air. Philosophy is the narrative of life that needs to be acted upon more than spoken. It is inert; it's ideas that so easily build on the ideas that you already have so are they really new? No. Just updated so what's the hype? And we think that we learn so many new things from conversations but they're just updates of things that we previously know and it's directs you to a collective consciousness that's been building up either since two days ago to an infinity before you were even born. So why aren't people more casual about these subject matters instead of trying so hard a la 'Waking Life' or Woody Allen?
I guess I've come to the point where talking about these things doesn't stimulate me as much as it does seeing it manifested in a real person or as suggested ideas through an art form or metaphor instead of whoring yourself out and going "this is what I think - blah". You have to flirt a little with what you know, not just "omg are dreams more real than life or is it all perception?" Elude this adolescent Kafkaesque bullshit. What's the point of studying Camus to death if you're just going to die anyway? Do you see the irony here? Why turn philosophy into a textbook and continue to suck on the teat of publishers without any evidence of being someone who lives these philosophies naturally? Rather than knowing them and living your life citing an idea that you could have developed yourself in time, what about outrightly just being them here and now? That is real, that requires no reincarnation, no dreaming state, it is knowledge in real time which is as altruistic as it gets.
I'm fed up of college kids harping about this crap, beer in hand, oh look what I learned in class; coffee drinking, wireless mooching, oh guess what I heard during an art show. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. I'm so jaded. I want to turn the page. I want to talk to someone I want to talk to, on the phone, I don't care if I'm busy, I want someone to interfere with my life and drop everything because they feel I am more important than whatever I'm doing. I want someone to want to span and close the space that separates us. Why do so few people want that? What is this fear over answering the phone or calling people like it lowers you to respond to another human being? There's such a deficiency of truth and breathing emotion in people. It's insecurity. What is the point of collective consciousness when everyone's afraid of not talking out loud because the next person might think that they're crazy? Or maybe they're not aware of the potential of collective consciousness. Fucking zeitgeist, man. We're all made out of the same components, how far apart could we be from the next person? Insecurity stems from the fact that we cannot read each other's minds when somehow we're all roughly capable of having the same ideas as the next person which is why we say "yeah, I know" more than "gee, I never thought of it that way before." Then that's why people lie. We don't want people to read our minds because we have something to hide. We have hidden intentions and we hide ourselves because we lack confidence in bringing our desires to reality so we create fantasy. We hinder our true selves, true desires and bullshit around to get what we want through illicit means. Why? Because it makes things more interesting or is it really just fear that makes us beat around the bush? I throw my hands up in the air to this.
Maybe we should just stop pretending we're all doing something more important and pick up the phone when it's ringing. Span and close that space that separates us.
I was in utter despair yesterday. While scribbling my fury into my journal on the train back to New Jersey, this older man came and sat next to me.
"What's that you're writing? A journal?"
"Yes."
Sometimes people disturb me when I'm writing in my diary, sometimes they don't out of courtesy. Sometimes it's invasive, sometimes it isn't. The man smelt of whiskey and cigarettes but he was dressed nicely enough so I took his gesture as being a friendly one. What can I say, I like my whiskey.
He was from Arizona. He spoke to me about his 29 year old son he was trying to bring home; a failed recovering drug addict. His daughter who he enjoys drinking wine with and her three month old son. We talked about life, cheesy as it sounds. I can have these conversations with 60 year old men and feel more myself than when I'm talking with anyone else because that's how I write in my journals. I write because I have ideas sometimes too complex to speak out loud but older men understand completely. I guess with older women there's a physiological aspect of it where we start to relate to one another. A maternal aspect that I'm not prepared enough for nor do I sense them as being universal enough for me to comfortably follow.
"Why do you write?" he asked.
"Because I there are some things that I can't say out loud."
"Like secrets?"
"Some of it. Sometimes it's just that the language or the level that they're on, I don't think my friends would understand or it would be an effort for me to make them to understand."
"But why do you write? I mean, you're happy with yourself, aren't you?"
"Most days, I am. Just like everyone else, I have my days... I write because I have a terrible memory."
I'm not as good at getting things out of other people but it was a great conversation. He missed his stop so I called him a cab.
"Do you ever read back to what you wrote?"
"Sometimes. I can't always because I'm not good with humiliation."
"Humiliation? What's there to be embarrassed about?"
He offers me a cigarette, which I accept.
"It's just that, you spend your whole life trying to get better. You go through things in the past, mistakes that were necessary but once that phase is over, it's hard for me to look back at it because I know now how I could have handled it better and it's a little embarrassing that I made these mistakes but I don't blame myself for it. I wouldn't be who I am now if it wasn't for them."
"That's right but it's nothing to be humiliated about."
"Besides, writing is important because even if I push that phase of my life away and it's almost impossible for me to look back sometimes, it's like I've paid my respects to who I was at that point in my life. Everything passes but that version of me existed and I have proof that it did."
"If I was fourty years younger, sweetie, I would love you."
"Do me a favour and tell the boys that they should know better."
While waiting outside my dorm, he found an old vinyl record in the trashcan which he recognised and I didn't.
"Once you hit 61, you're 21 (points at me). Once you hit sixty-one, you have to punch yourself in the head to get out of bed. You lose that youthful enthusiasm and you wake up wondering if you're gonna die yet. You anticipate it."
"I think I look forward to it."
"Dying? Sweetie, you don't wanna die."
"No. I definitely want to live but... in a nice way, I look forward to the idea of dying one day. I see death as kind of a rite of passage, like puberty or menopause."
"That's twisted."
"See, that's why I have to keep a journal."
"I like you."
"I like you too."
"You know life doesn't get any better than this, right?"
"I know. I really do. But you just have to keep making each day look a little more different."
"And you try."
"... and you try."
So he rubbed my shoulders and kissed me on the cheek. When the cab came and left with his souvenir. I call it a coincidence that he found that vinyl. That conversation was supposed to happen. I wondered where he was the first time he heard the record. He used to play the guitar and thought about those days while he softly hummed songs he forgot he knew.
The past week has been tricky but last night, although I haven't quite figured out why, made me feel better. It just showed me that I knew myself really well. That and I have the maturity of a 60 year old man. Coincidences come when a phase of my life is sealed or when change is imminent. I've moved out of my dorms, semester is over. Time to turn a new leaf, new continent over. You'd think that I'd still have plenty of time to start getting older but I rush things. I don't want to put my life on hold for anything anymore.
"I hate horses. I think they smell and I don't like how people ride them, control them."
"I like horses. I like to think I can talk to them and they can understand me."
Some things come back to haunt you no matter how far you go. Turning 21 wasn't a problem. Facing facts that I had to start cutting people off was. It's uncharacteristic of me to do that to people who I don't feel aren't complete reprobates. I'm surprised at myself, really, that I've adopted the politics of becoming an adult. I don't mind growing up but I was a little ashamed of it. I am ashamed of closing doors but I had to keep big, bad wolves from coming in. I benefited from it largely and have never been happier. I think it's just the giving up on anything that really bugs me.
I'm not afraid of celebrating birthdays anymore. Other than last Sunday which got intense when I had a close encounter with two guys who were trying to kill each other with their eyes because they respectively wanted to sex me up at 4am. I was tipsy and twisted them into cockblocking each other out till I decided it was time for bed alone. Now that was a birthday party.
I liked 19 and 20. They were both good years and now I've 361 days of 21 to look forward to. Weeks before turning 21 I could feel my body changing; pubescence was ending. I no longer lose weight, my fat just shifts to the right places no matter how much I work out, which isn't so bad. Curves take place where bones used to protrude and I can't imagine now what it feels like to physically feel any older. It's unfathomable but getting natural curves like Bellucci is something to look forward to.
21 means getting stronger without getting deterred or distracted; no longer being afraid of being alone - a very impressive lesson to learn at my age. I'd take the single life to being treated like trash any day by people I put on pedestals and I'm glad I've outgrown those days where I'd take someone's abuse for the sake of feeling. These people bore me to tears and I'll no longer. Not if it compromises my dignity, integrity or reputation but most importantly - my progression. Love, I am free from your shackles now. Have a good life.
- "Bare Hands" (before colour correction)
When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set a monk on fire.
Today just seems like a good day to remember June 11th, 1963. At random, certain introductions or reintdouctions seem to come to me like old memories or experiences. Maybe it's just that my mind's hazy today. Maybe it's the alcohol, work and sleep deprivation. Days like these, things like these will somehow come to personify my day. Call it spiritual cleansing, call it being inspired but I am calm today. I'm calm inside but everything else seems to be bursting into flames. I have to admit though, I am envious.
In the case that some day I may be subjected to immolation, I could only hope that my heart would too, be preserved.
