Tag: inner turmoil

Tidbits For Shits and Giggles: I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK

I never understood what exactly People meant when They said “I really Identified with that Movie/Play/TV Show Etc., and I would Automatically Dismiss The Comment. That was until I saw I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK by Jake Lava, and then in a Moment of Clarity I fully Understood what People Meant on a Personal Level for the First Time.

When I was a Teenager I was rather Introverted due to Some Social Anxieties I have, and was always Referred to as Shy. This didn’t Stop Me from going to School Sporting Events, Dances, Parties, Concerts, or Group Gatherings since there was Next to Nothing to Due in My Shitty Hometown. So to Cope with these Less than Comfortable Situations I took the Cliche “If You Don’t have Anything Nice to Say Then Don’t Saying at All” and Ran with it like a Motherfucker.

              

At these Various Events I would hang back and Watch/Listen to everything going on Around Me, and I then would Mock, Insult, or Shit Talk what I observed or Heard in My Head to pass the Time. Unfortunately this Coping Mechanism had one Odd Side Effect which was I couldn’t help most times Laughing at the Absurdly Violent, Insulting, or Obscene Thoughts I was Having. I know some of You are like What the Fuck Laughter isn’t a fucking Side Effect because Side Effects Suck Like Explosive Diarrhea or Anal Leakage, but Laughing Who complains about that being a so called Side Effect?!

I was well aware that Some Guy standing in the Back Round or Isolating in a Corner Laughing His Ass Off would make Me look Psychotic to say the Least. I modified My Laugh so it was at the Lowest Audible Level so My Laugh was Deeply Guttural that wouldn’t Draw Too Much Attention. Imagine if a Growl fucked a Serious Belly Laugh and had a Kid that’s the Best way I can Describe it Honestly. The Only Issue was that Over Time People did begin to Notice that the Quiet Guy was Laughing to Himself, and it Sounded Very Sinister and most People found it Profoundly Unnerving.

               

Luckily for Me I had a Friend at the Time Named Al that would basically cover for My Bizarre Behavior. Obviously I wasn’t about to Explain the Insulting, Negative, and Obscene Thoughts I was having (about Them or the Situation) that I painted in Overtly Violent imagery on the Canvas of My Mind. Al would politely Interject His Token Explanation which was if Memory Serves Me “Don’t Mind Him He Thinks Something is Entertaining, But He’s Not About to Tell Us.” and This Seemed to Work Flawlessly.

So Sit Back and Enjoy I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK by the Talented Jake Lava.

Thanks For Reading and Watching,

Presented By  Les Sober & FYB

Look How Brooding (I Was)

I decided on the old spring cleaning today. More like my portable DVD player is gathering dust and I need to find its extension cord. So even though the ideas of what I want to write are running through my head at a blistering pace, like sperm pelting the floor at a bathhouse, I’ve taken the lazy way out and decided to throw up a few brooding poems from about five years ago. I think I wrote them in rehab, hence the plastic bed references casually strewn in there.

Disowned

Why do I work to escape this very moment
When all I should do is tuck it away
How come my darkest world shines so bright
When it only brings me the fear of my plight

The hate in my soul drips forth with blood
While the bluebirds may chirp
I sit here in your mud
It’s like one thousand flavors rattle my cage
Dairy Queen and Lucifer, One and the same

My chest collapses slowly
While I wriggle in pain
Two candy canes half eaten
Melting in the rain

..I feel for my pulse but it’s not to be found
I’ve been riding in your carriage too long
But my soul is nowhere around

You still plague my soul
Even from far, far away
The wax from your candle
It melts my nightmares
Covers up all this dismay

And I used to run, I used to fly
There once was a time I never cried
Your heart it stayed open
Your veins never closed
The moths gracing your light bulbs
They practically glowed

And one day I’ll wake up
Maybe I’ll even truely care
But for this moment in time
This moment I own
Alone in my thoughts
Even though my brain isn’t home

I plot and I ponder.
I sit and I stare.
The tadpole didn’t come home for supper
But I still feel him there

And I know this isn’t reality
Yet it’s certainly not a dream
Just a slice of delusion
In a cherry pie choking on whipped cream.

(And then there is this one below.  I never titled it. I hate titles. They should die.)

-UNTITLED-

All my Johnnys have gone away
While I sat staring out the window
Trying to breathe in the world
When all I saw was the lamp post
And your reflection in a puddle

Then I sailed across the ocean
Looking for you
Looking for him
I wondered where your trail of bread crumbs led
But they only formed some lost circle
Empty of my heart
Crashing up my car

I ate a sundae with marshmellows
It tasted like you
Or wait maybe like him
And I put on some Jimmies
But they were too sweet
You tasted so bitter
Yet it was my dream
I swallowed my dreams

The boat then crashed ashore
My holy father whipped me
I just wanted your chains
To cramp my style
You squeezed my soul so fine

But I’ve lost your scent
The moon doesn’t rise
And your face isn’t on my quarter anymore
Just another dead president

And one day I do know
That something will rise out of the sky
I’d just take the sun
But you are my God
I don’t know if I should try

Yet maybe it’s my destiny
Just smelling you out
I’m not sure though
Because it may not be you
Might have been him
Singing through the birds
Nestling in my head

The queen of hearts left my deck long ago
Suffering without anything to hold onto
My kingdom has lost its peaceful rest

BY SpaceDog 

Out of the Bubble, Into The Future

I have come to realize that too often in life I am not the person defining myself. I have far too often let others opinions define me, far too often have lived up to every role and stereotype they have defined for me. I am very tired of this.

I am very tired of the label placed on me as being depressed or being bipolar or as being epileptic. I am tired of being the quiet one, the drunk one, the slut, the alcoholic, the compulsive gambler, the unstable.

I have been all of these, yet I have been none of these. They run in and around and through me again. Still I am not as simple as any label. We label people far too often as to characterize them. For the purposes of public opinion this is a great thing but for society as a whole it truly sucks.

THE BUBBLE

I have been living in this rather unfortunate bubble that I fully put myself in, that I believe I wanted to be in for a very long time. I have let people tell me that I am consistently depressed. Maybe I am. I am not as book smart as I should be and I am not as street smart as many of the things in my life I have done should have made me.

The vast imperfections of the world have made me rather sad. If I thought about everything wrong all the time, well of course I would be sad. I am too educated of a person to not be effected otherwise. When you have had your hand in as many cookies jars as myself, it is only wonder that I have all of fingers remaining.

So there has always been something holding me back. Most of the time myself, but a great deal of the time it is something legally or financially. Now I am on the cusp of freedom and frankly I am very nervous. Not freaking out but very soon I will have the ability to pick where I want to live, to go where I want to go, and to be who I want to be.

I am not sure what town to go to or what city I should somehow surface in or if the people will be nice or if be there at all even. I firmly feel I can do this. I pretty much just showed up in Niagara Falls, NY (of all places) and made friends the first real chance I gave myself. They wanted me to move there and I wanted me to move there but I got myself into a mess by not thinking for myself, not being myself.

I wish it was just as easy as me going back to Niagara Falls and reclaiming what I feel that I somewhat lack in my current surroundings. It’s probably all still here inside of me but this getting 5 hours of sleep a night is not enough for me.

I wish I could just take an Ambien but most sleeping pills cause me to blackout and bring out my inner fat girl. Some of us don’t remember and wake up with a mustache like the Pringles guy, I wake up covered in Pringles.

Anyway I cannot wait to get my license back in PA. I have been talking about soooooo many creative ideas with one of my friends that I am going insane not being able to do anything about them. Well I can do something about them but I’ve done enough dreaming. I am ready to cascade the dreams into action.

Well I believe the zzzzzzs are calling me now. I actually think the wind is calling me as well. Where I fall I know not.

By SpaceDog 

Out of the Bubble & Into the Future: Contemplating 31 Years of Life

In several days, this Sunday to be exact I will be turning 31. While a lot of my friends in and around 30 complain to me about how they are getting old and how we are getting old, I see this as a new beginning for myself.

I have come to realize that too often in life I am not the person defining myself. I have far too often let others opinions define me, far too often have lived up to every role and stereotype they have defined for me. I am very tired of this.

I am very tired of the label placed on me as being depressed or being bipolar or as being epileptic. I am tired of being the quiet one, the drunk one, the slut, the alcoholic, the compulsive gambler, the unstable.

I have been all of these, yet I have been none of these. They run in and around and through me again. Still I am not as simple as any label. We label people far too often as to characterize them. For the purposes of public opinion this is a great thing but for society as a whole it truly sucks.

THE BUBBLE

I have been living in this rather unfortunate bubble that I fully put myself in, that I believe I wanted to be in for a very long time. I have let people tell me that I am consistently depressed. Maybe I am. I am not as book smart as I should be and I am not as street smart as many of the things in my life I have done should have made me.

The vast imperfections of the world have made me rather sad. If I thought about everything wrong all the time, well of course I would be sad. I am too educated of a person to not be effected otherwise. When you have had your hand in as many cookies jars as myself, it is only wonder that I have all of fingers remaining.

So there has always been something holding me back. Most of the time myself, but a great deal of the time it is something legally or financially. Now I am on the cusp of freedom and frankly I am very nervous. Not freaking out but very soon I will have the ability to pick where I want to live, to go where I want to go, and to be who I want to be.

I am not sure what town to go to or what city I should somehow surface in or if the people will be nice or if be there at all even. I firmly feel I can do this. I pretty much just showed up in Niagara Falls, NY (of all places) and made friends the first real chance I gave myself. They wanted me to move there and I wanted me to move there but I got myself into a mess by not thinking for myself, not being myself.

I wish it was just as easy as me going back to Niagara Falls and reclaiming what I feel that I somewhat lack in my current surroundings. It’s probably all still here inside of me but this getting 5 hours of sleep a night is not enough for me.

I wish I could just take an Ambien but most sleeping pills cause me to blackout and bring out my inner fat girl. Some of us don’t remember and wake up with a mustache like the Pringles guy, I wake up covered in Pringles.

Anyway I cannot wait to get my license back in PA. I have been talking about soooooo many creative ideas with one of my friends that I am going insane not being able to do anything about them. Well I can do something about them but I’ve done enough dreaming. I am ready to cascade the dreams into action.

Well I believe the zzzzzzs are calling me now. I actually think the wind is calling me as well. Where I fall I know not.

By SpaceDog 

November’s Embrace

I am so blah. I don’t really know how to describe it. I suppose me feeling this way when November rolls around is turning into sort of a trend.

But no this time is different because I am trying to escape the disfunction. And that is all I find. My energy levels are so freaking sapped. It is like everything I put into a thought remains just as that, just as a thought. Suspended in time. Not fullfilled, but so far from being broken. Just captured.

So I sit here trying to recapture some of the energy. It comes in a song, it comes in a whisper from others but is not internal. I lost it in the wind, have lost it in the wind.

Maybe all I need is some good drugs. I sleep only seldom and am in this fog all the time. Not the place where I want to be. I would rather live in pandemonium then this constant fog. I cannot feel in the fog. It is a dangerous place to be.

Once long ago I was entirely too concerned about others giving up on me. Now this curse lingering within me is making me want to give up on myself. At least I keep them busy in the ER between Halloween and Thanksgiving.

By SpaceDog  

I Will Never Forget How To Stand On My Head By Spacedog

I tenderly caressed the back of his head. My arm was still bleeding though so I had to stop.

Another vein gone.

Another dream lost.

I told him I loved him and he replied with the same in turn. It was cold and vacant, a blizzard of deceipt, a blizzard of discontent. We were chained together by our frivolity, linked together but nothing else.

He was the prize I had won at the carnival of malaise, a trinket I picked up at a child’s lemonade stand. Oh but how the lemonade grew bitter in taste and pungent in stench. Still I showed off my trinket like rappers show off their bling and socialites show off their fine china. I knew I was buying damaged goods from the beginning yet this did not matter. This trinket, he was a challenge
and I for one have great difficulty in backing down from those, no matter the price my soul might pay.

After time though, my senses slowly returned to me. The darkness seeped out of my pores and I had no more need for my fallen angel. The ideals of brute intimidation, frigid love, and penetrating midgets no longer matched that of my own. So the tie was severed. The bond was broken. I moved on.

I had lost my way but I still knew how to stand on my head and flip my life around and be done.

I will never forget how to stand on my head. I have countless times.

Why?

Sometimes there is never an answer for why we do what we do. People ask us and we try to discern what is best in our heads at the time. I was asked by many a friend, why him, why that man. It fulfulled the need of accomplishment in me at the time.

Instant gratification. I wanted it to be the deepest depths of the ocean, when in my head I knew it was the kiddie pool.

These are all just guesses to me now. I do not know the person I was back then. He is different then the one I am today. I am just speculating. The aspects of my persona change daily. I am still the same deep at my core. But the person who wakes up out of bed with me each and every morning, he is different. The surface does not always match the depths.

So why do we swim in the kiddie pool when we all want the ocean? Why?