Anywhere but Stanford - Under the aegis of John we go forth into that brazen new century while the starving masses accrue sores and bad breath. That golden intellectual art of which you
so seldom speak is riding on the horizon ready to contaminate me with Joy. That mindful gypsey who sits in my concealed breath makes for a grand inquisitor. All is disarray and erruption.
How elusive has this world become? Very. To give you an example, a great friend of over 15 years has not been contacting me lately and I couldn't feel stones about it. My wreckage of a
sensitive soulograph has not picked up anything from today. I figured that I just have to push myself to be noticed. The release valve is masturbation, but pork flutes cannot put a future
on the table. I must fight and I must innure myself to the elements of boredome. What do I love to do most in this chaotic era which began last month at 4pm Ukraine time? I like to seek out
the most classy element I can and work on it for days at end. I like to stretch the ligaments that tie my bones together and get all the excess strength I can find out of them. I like to
keep a clear and meaningful head, and in actual fact what's happening now is reasonably speaking, the very opposite. I have filth living in my heart and blow my Billy Boy blow. There can be
little doubt that I need the sea. Even if only for a few sand-skipping sessions along the periphery where the sea meets the wild earth. It needs to be done and it needs to be done on the
regular. I feel old when I talk this way. Oh-hey-hey. Why am I such a late starter when art is alive and whhen I have the blessing of Peter Earl? I know I can muster all the necessary
ingredients if I were to regain my order, which requires celebacy. The dog has not been walked, I have been up masturbating till late. I have obviously lost my thread again. The madness
creeps in. I get bored, you see, I need to do things that are going to move me forward but I don't think that money is anything more than a distraction sometimes. For a whole year
I lived simply for money and in the end my health was a national disaster. All the lust and so on also has a place. I get desperately unhappy when I miss out on things, so masturbation is
a kind of a release valve. I can have what I want without the risk. But this just allows for another necessary but not sufficient factor of not getting out there when I need there. If I
don't masturbate I can get out there again, or at least I will have the motivation. But this is just for starters. There needs to be a whole rewiring. I don't feel very enthused to begin
my life out here in the sticks. But maybe there is something I'm missing. I'm only writing in a way that makes me remember the things that I shove into the back of my brain. Like David's
dark figure as he weeded the beds yesterday, and like my ambrosia that I never found the definition of, and like the special role that playing the role of one seeing things psychoanylitically
has on the writer. Seeing things on purpose might be the key. Assuming that things are there and then working with them as an act of faith, hoping they won't lead down blind alleys some
day that don't have any purpose. It's now too late too carry on writing but carry on I must. I cannot stop now; in fact I must carry on until the page is full. But I don't know what to
say. That' the thing though. There is no shortage of things to say. For instance, the feelings in my body are all wrong with no release valve. I am all stress and no efficacy. I can't
seem to put things together, and similarly my body seems a pasteup of organs, none of them working together and none of them healing by themselves. This is why one needs the sea. They used
to prescribe the ocean to old people for ill health. Ocean was a giant in the old Greek myths. But that detracts from eveything. I don't want to go out there this morning, but I know I
have to. By all standards this is one of my bad mornings, but not the worst. I've woken up with a much worse head and much worse wind. In the end it goes away but I have to stink out the
whole house and I still get anxious about my health. This is not the place to lay out plans either it seems, which is not to say I won't try, but it doesn't work too well. It's a Thursday
and I have none. The key is to start with the basics though. That would help me immensely. Is to kind of ramp my way up there. The challenge with that of course is that things are launching
all the time. Projects and key components are already an amalgum of different elements that have all been carefully put together. Maybe I should just work on going to sleep earlier. I
was bored last night and decided to crack open a new bottle of porno instead. What was it again? It was an Asian girl called Vina Sky with the most incredible face. I prefer her to my
girlfriend in the ways she can spread her crack wide open and allow many men in. But there's something very filthy about it all. Something that deep down I don't like. Something I have
to hide. For instance I spend far too long worshipping this stuff with the excuse that it's taking the pressure off of me, but really is it? Isn't it just adding more pressure in the
religious domain? The thing to do is stop, to stop and not do it again. Better to head out into the road early with polly and skate around and around. My mom says that many people like
the way Yanika looks. I find that hard to believe. I don't find her very enticing. She's so used up and colourless. There's something about an old tart that fights against common sense.
It devalues the human spirit. For instance, when I look at old Janika I see a used condom in human form. I see a woman with no bearingon reality. A woman who has lost control. I get scared
to look on her. There is no attraction. Broken down into it's constituent elemements I find the human body quite bizarre and disgusting. Even if you were to take the body of Vina Sky for
example and genetically duplicate it, you could never forget that that body belonged to a head and that that head belonged to a soul and a spirit. I am just talking here of things that
I've noticed. I don't know if I want a public persona worth writing about but if I practice my songs I will be able to sing competently at Searles and who knows? There might be people there
worth meeting. Very likely not because my profession is not very admirable. Last night I was looking up teaching jobs in Mongolia and then it turned out that accomodation was very
epensive and I also realized that I prefer to be around more people. But then I went through the whole rabbit hole of variety and thinking of where the best place to teach might be, and
I thought, aren't I just wasting my time deliberating too much, and all the options were quite exhausting. I suppose Japan wouldbe the best place to teach for me personally. Taiwan might
get attacked. That would be my first option; and Vietnam, well that's just Thailand all over again. My mother must think I'm neglecting my duties but I'm not. I still have to make this
bed and drink a cup of tea. I know that she's breaking her feet every single day out there and I don't want her to but there's also my health and my anxiety to consider and that' no
mean force. I want to be everything to everyone but as I've discovered that's quite impossible. I tried it with Aiya and this is why I'm sitting here with these augmented mental problems
today. I suppose everything has to take place in sequence. That's the first rule of business. And then a hierarchy can be established. But I hate sequences so that messes me up. But if you
can do things in sequence you have a template to work with and then you can accomplish more. Whereas if you just do things helter skelter, there's no way to build up from a foundation.
Comments
Post a Comment