Threading the needle

Ugh, here I go. God, sometimes I just feel like I am staring out of a window in my brain and watching my life without being there for it. Sometimes, just SOMETIMES, I would like to feel like I am in more control of myself. But, I do not listen. I follow the rules I set and do my best to get to where I need to go but I crow. Crow to the shiny, the new, the interesting. Eventually, I get to where I am going, but I ended up picking up so much SHINY DOUBT.

I decided to start writing, typing… The present is weird. Surrounded by metal brains listening in. Everyone is afraid of being controlled, but we are controlled. I can’t help but feel the lens of my laptop focus in on my face. Am I unaware? Is there someone through this spider web of unidentifiable energy that blankets the empty space of my hands, looking back at me. Taking notes in some office. Wearing a suit. Watching. Storing my sticky note with all the others in the “boring af” pile. Or is there someone with their hair parted in the middle chewing gum and sucking on a sucker writing in a glitter pen on yellow banana scented paper in a coffee shop watching me. Jotting down strange facts from their observation and putting my sticky in the “this one can do it, watch out” pile.

I tried to do this before, you know, write about your life and shit to the millions of “fans” I can only assume I will have. But then I somehow manufactured this tornado of structure on how it HAS TO BE. That’s another thing I tend to tie myself down with. I make these situations, these goals. Like freshly baked bread, ready to burn the shit out of your hands. They make me feel so awake, so hungry, ready to pack my god damn bags and head the fuck out of town. Light turns on, I’m in this musty chair with a cigarette fumigating the room in the back of my mind. “What do you think you’re doing” Echos into the plaster walls of my brain. “IM TRYING TO BE FREE” Takes a drag, looks me up and down and chuckles, “you are stuck with me, bitch. It’s been me and you for the past 24 years and I am not letting you go.” Mother Fuck, I just want to do something I want to do and just do it. Fucking crows, can’t trust them. And here I am trying to be someone and then here I am grounding myself, punishing myself. Pockets laced with coins, with doubt. So much doubt, I start to feel like a pocket with a hole in it. But the hole has a voice and it is telling me to keep pushing. The more I stuff my pockets as a crow and as a human, the more my direction sifts through and then I have change for days. PUT OUT THAT CIGARETTE! Sew up that fucking hole. Lock me in that room and never let me out. Why is it that our worst enemy is ourselves? But flip that, wouldn’t that mean that the hero has to be ourselves, too? I’m trying to just type this mess out, but I am catching my eyes in both hands rereading and doing grammar checks and seeing if any of this makes sense.

I will tear out my eyes and smash them with my feet. Peel them off the floor and put them back in. I’ve been into Ted talks lately and man, I tell you, the way it makes me feel is so powerful. Carrie White Prom night kind of power. I feel like I can change the world. And then the talk is over and I practice this new magic for a few days and then wake up in the same sweaty bed, alarm clock blaring. makeup smeared. Ashtray smoldering in this railroad apartment. I don’t always feel like that though, sometimes its breakfast on the beach and I am ordering all the goodies. Fork in left hand, knife in right… But I am eating soup and I don’t give a fuck about this dinner etiquette. Someone had to make up these rules because there wasn’t any. It wasn’t always a dirt path, pressed heavy with feet. I’m just trying to stamp a new path, my own way.

I need to do this often, more often. I have a treasure chest inside my head and I just keep playing it in loops to this large stadium, plot twist, I am the only one watching. I never really share or put into action. And when my gears start to grind and the fire burns, it has a limit and never really lasts. That’s the goal here, have an endless fuel supply so I can provide for my civilization I am trying to create. I’m tired of living in everyone else’s world. I will create my own. And it all starts with selling tickets to my treasure chest show. This one is the first ticket, grab a seat. Cant guarantee how the show will go, but the show must go on.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s