Tag: Personal Reflection

Centrist

I am not a fuckin’ savior. I peel away at people like onions. We all do. Some of us are the peeled and we cry. Some of us are the instruments that scalp. Away. Away. Away.

We peel away the layers.

We peel away the sunshine.

We prefer it this way. Peeling away until there is nothing but barren terrain. Nakedness of the soul.

I see that barren flesh. I run. I hide. I capture but I do not seize. I growl at myself. I cannot kill the already dead. I cannot usurp what is already fallen at my feet. I plot. I ponder. I smile, I beckon them forth.

       

Centralist

I have always stood in between time and reality. I have always liked my part in this pathway towards truth, towards honesty, towards good.

I have always hated my lack of proofreading, my lack of utter care over things that most writers would throw hissy-fits about. Is this proper grammar? Am I spelled this write? Yes I know right.

I play dumb for the prey to think I am as such. It is not a very nice thing to do, but do it I shall. It was how the wolves conditioned me. Maybe I’m still just a wolf.

        

Most likely though, I fall in between. I am a centralist or centrist. I care not to look up spellings in dictionary.com. Usually words flow in my head that don’t make sense. Nine out of ten times, they are real words and I do a little spellcheck and poof they become what they were intended to be. Microcosms of my head spewed out to the masses herky-jerkedly like a disenfranchised orgasm at a self-righteous porno store.

Yes. yes. YES. !!! I would think if I had a bigger ego, that yes I am the fuckin’ Dr. Phil of the next generation. I have been in the middle of many things. I somehow italicized my shit and have no clue how. I havent been in the middle of any bi relationships but if I could have would have just so I could enlighten you all further. But that is not the point of this blog. The point is this………………………………………

        

There comes a time…….. when we as people need something more. I need more. I hear my friends call me after many a beer and I hear my friends after many a sober evening. I do not hear stability call. I hear everything but.

I write and write and write some more. There is no sense to the melody. There is no reason to the rhyme. Perhpas if I could hear the music. I could tell the tale better. But I have equal melodies of those captured by the waves of the substances and I hear equal melodies of those not captured by such.

What road should I travel? What road will hurt me less? I care not. I care to live.

  By SpaceDog

Chances

My phone rang one desolate, dank, and cold evening.

She asked for Carlos.

I told her she had the wrong number.

She called back.

She called back a third time.

   

My jack and coke told me that I was bored.

So we talked.

For thirty minutes.

A strange girl and myself.

I don’t talk to strange women.

Women have cooties.

       

So we went on a date. It was rather bizarre. A date with a woman. We met. She was a pretty girl, but I think I was just being nice when I told her this. She liked pixie sticks and newports. I had both of these in my pocket at the time as well. We hit it off somewhat. We saw a movie. Then sanity kicked in and I  never saw her again.

This was the ultimate chance meeting. I wanted to say I went out with my wrong number girl. If I was bi, I would have gotten in her pants so I could say I have sex with people that dial the wrong number. But I had already pilfered my friends phone line one day and made dates with six different guys who were actually calling him. My phone booth whore days have long since vanished.

       

GOOD VS. EVIL

Some chances we take have results not always visible to the naked eye. We take a chance on lending a friend money. Let say $500. That person promises to pay us back but everytime we ask them for our money the subject is changed. We hear about their abusive boyfriend, we hear about how expensive gas is, we hear about their drunken sister.

Then we suddenly remember this person is single. Then we remember gas is like a buck fifty a gallon. Then we recall they don’t have a sister.

So we stop asking.

         

We try not to harm the friendship in this person’s mind even though they might be harming it in ours but not making any attempts to pay us back. They don’t seem to have much of a consciousness or a soul when it comes to these things. Then you think for a second that you are being too harsh. Then you find out another friend of yours lent this person money and never saw a dime of it either.

Several weeks pass by. You have a few drinks at your friend’s house and fall asleep on the couch. In the morning you part ways and find your wallet to be short a few bills. You go home. You wonder what to say. Whether to say anything. What you say is ignored. So you keep silent.

     

Then we go off into the night.

Then we try and forget this person existed.

We hear rumors about their plight.

We hear sordid fairy tales, most likely a melody of facts and fables, everywhere we turn.

We wonder what went wrong, why we took such a chance on them.

Why couldn’t he have been honest? Why can’t we tell the truth and be honest for once?

 

BLACKMAIL

I like the way you look at me.

I like the way you brush your hair.

I think your eyes are a glimpse into heaven.

I know you had sex in your car last night. I am going to rat your ass out.

 Yup sometimes we are lucky little ones and aren’t always the ones with our hand caught in the cookie jar. We catch other people’s hands in the cookie jar quite often too. I was involved in one of these situations before. Well shit I seem to have been involved in many of these situations, who am i kidding?.

Sometimes all we have to do is shut up and listen. You can hear drama from quite a distance.

        

All of the thoughts in my head told me to go for the money. Extort! Extort! Extortitionaaayyyy! I need a vacation I thought to myself. I chose to have a conscience. I laughed about it with the dude, who was the “other woman”. The months worth of laughter provided much more valuable than any payment plans.Chance provided a good chuckle.

CONCLUSIONAIRE

We all take chances. Sometimes they take us.

We have the power in ourselves to determine the final outcome.

Time may have had its way with you.

Time may be your best friend.

        

But when the time comes to make your mark.

Will you actually take that chance you have been dying to take your whole life?

Or will you let time have its way with you and regret those leaps of faith?

Those chances you can’t take back.

Those choices that beckon forth your reaper. 

I simply call him Dismay.

  By SpaceDog

Waiting by the phone

Everyone is happy. Happy awaiting the dawn of the new decade. And there I am half dead, half alive to the world. Mostly dead. The steady drum beat of hope has fallen by the wayside, taken somewhere by the wind or the incessant diner food calling my name when I just wanted to be left alone.

I slowly think of the joy and their faces, the new beginnings. Then i wake up on the train. I do not feel like I belong in this place, at this time, at this moment. Something feels off in the cosmic spectrum of things. Then flash forward……in the city. The city I love. The energy is more abundant then usual as the sleet ricochets off of my hoodie, down my face, into my core. I am right where I need to be.

As the streets become blurs and carbon copies of one another, I hear people talking but barely hear a sound. I see lights without cars and cars without drivers and people without souls. I feel all that is around me but then I…….nothing………nothing………..nothing

         

It’s just a long taxi ride. Blurring, dumbfounded, lax.

And off into the land of segmentation. Off into the great divide.

I find myself paying cover charges for drinks I will not have. Looking forth at the faces I will not be sucking. I wonder what exactly it is I am doing here. I am still wondering as I sit on this couch writing this blog. Everyone so horned up and me with my old yet new sense of decency.

It felt out of place. Like I should have been creating a stir or been getting escorted away or have been doing things in shower stalls. Shower stalls???? No mindflash backwards or is that forwards? Not sure. Nothing of want. Too drunk, too drunk, too drunk, too fat, too drunk, wow you’re a whore. All of these stretching for miles.

     

Time stood still. Exit stage right. Old grizzly bears. Exit stage left. Vast pools of dark chocolate surround me. Exit below ground, hoards of fake IDs. Exit stage me. Alone and cold and wondering where I was. Why am I here again???? Did I lose the memo?? Did they forget to carbon copy me on the last e-mail that was sent out????

I saw the ball drop on the TV. But when I saw you, the ball went up into my chest, up into the pits of my stomach. I would breathe and go back to normalcy. I wished I saw him, whoever it is that he might be.

And you stand off in your corner. You tell me to behave. You tell me to grow up. Then you breathe again and you tell me to stop being so old. To stop trying to race against time. I make a pit stop. You that tell me to change won’t even help me change my oil or wash my windows. I loathe. I mustn’t say too much. They are always watching.

    

I arrived home. If only I knew where I was at that time. If you only could have been sweeter, as sweet as the hottest apple pie that my grandmother would bake me on a warm spring day and heat even further on those cold spring nights.

It was all smiles. I wish they were real. But I captured their presence. I captured their meanings and their words and as if time stood still I was there again. With you. With the mercy that all can be well. And nothing is truly lost.

   By SpaceDog

Letting GO

We all need to learn to let go at some time or another. We first learn to let go of our mother’s hand on the first day of school. We learn to let go of old pets who die, sometimes at very young ages. Or learn to let go of friends.

My friend just died. He wasn’t particularly close to me for many years but everyone we were close to at some point or another still holds somewhat of a space. Even if we haven’t been to that part of our mind or heart for a very long time.

But some of the hardest things to let go are not people. They are not pets and they are not letting go of other people’s hands. It is letting go of the very things in our own characters that hold us back. It is hard not to lean on these crutches in times of boredom, in times of anxiety, in times of doubt. But we all go back eventually to something that may hold us back.

   

While it is holding you back though, you may not even realize. Who the heck realizes that a bad hobby or a bad friend or a bad partner is bad until after it is over and you think to yourself what the hell was i thinking…. Unless it is something obvious like drugs or alcohol, well even that may not be obvious to some. It is certainly becoming obvious to me.

If you look at yourself thinking what the hell am I doing, then you need to be doing something else. I wonder that frequently with some of my actions and some of my inactions. Once you start having to build a web of lies around yourself in order to keep out some of the lesser desired elements of yourself or of your past then well it is not right.

   

So I sit here writing, my body is in 2020 and my mind is in the spring of 2010 picking flowers and my heart is somewhere floating around in 1997 wondering if maybe we could all meet someday for lunch. Frankly I would prefer fish and chips but I already have a party of three booked for fish and chips so my level 2000 body parts will have to come up with something more creative.

   

So as I embark on my soon to be new set of eyes, well Lasik surgery, I wish that the new eyes could somehow bring me a new me. I mean it will be a new me, I will be able to see at night and live the night like I never was able to before. And I am so excited.

I’m up all the time at night anyway, this will just be a rather much needed addition. I really haven’t know for about five or ten years whether my lack of going out at night relates to my getting old and boring or the fact I get blinded by other drivers past 7pm. Again I’m ready for cartwheels.

   

Even though all my body parts and organs may not be in the same kind of place, I see something no one else sees inside of me. Hopefully my new eyes give me another kick in the ass in a world full of fat asses with no kick left in them. That is far more important then ever having my heart, body, and mind in the same room for a cup of tea.

  By SpaceDog

The Great Unplug 2019

Practically all of lost year/last year, I really contemplated completely cutting myself off from modern technology. Should i go cold turkey with everything? Should i just pick my phone, my pc, my ps4, tablet, wearables, my “crowdfunded” anal device, my tv?

I made a major compromise with myself. I’ve given up most of my basic cable package. Well not given up. I totally had my dad block half my tv channels.

Will i miss them? I can honestly say not one fucking bit. Now sure i have Netflix to fall back on so it’s not a huge sacrifice. I gotta say one thing. It is such a fucking pleasure to not have any clue of what is going on in the world.

Since I was 12 I have been entirely too aware of the world. I grew up way too fast while being too naive and I have insanely varying maturity since.

At 12 i was 40, 16 i was 8, 20 i was 30, 25 i was 50, 30 i was 16 again and now might as well be 80. Anyway the point is not hearing Donald Trump talk (or dems if ur conservative) is some of the best therapy ever. I also feel less 80 which is good but not quite teenager thankfully. Acting 16 is far more natural to me then however the fuck an adult is supposed to act.

I also have given up alcohol for the new year which led to quite the blackout and hurried 940pm liquor store run on new years eve but i digress. I think my liver is happier.

Oh and no more gaming either. Probably the hardest of all. I really thought there would be more creativity but all I’ve been given so far is how many different genres of music over how many different decades can I blast to potentially piss off my neighbors.

I have listened to 700-1000? different artists the past week. I wish i could find a way for spotify to churn them out to a simple file to post. I will never get tired of this. I could seriously spend all day listening to new music and playing model search.

More sacrifice is coming. Will I live? Die? Have a major meltdown? Have an epiphany? Signs point to yes.

Time for me to be 16 again. Framing Hanley is back together and I’m about to drown. Harder. Faster. Louder. Until it’s so loud I’m taken to the show in my dreams. Here in my head.

 By SpaceDog

Broken Promises

I try not to make too many promises. It is not a very good habit to get into on a frequent basis. Why? Because as the old saying goes promises are made to be broken.

Also I have no memory, but do I really need one in 2018?  I remember the occasional birthday but honestly I am just grateful that myspace and Facebook give me a little nudge in the right direction. I can spell most words under 7 letters, and can kind of spell words over 10 letters (at least enough so that firefox and its spell checker fix it up for me). All doctor’s offices call the day before to remind us that tomorrow we have an appointment. We are even reminded annoyingly by automated celebrities, presidents, reps, you name it to vote.

Today though is a rather unfortunate one. You see as I try not to make promises, some people are toxic to the soul. Instead of even letting you make a promise in the first place, they push and prod you and try tell you what you need to do. It is countless, from therapists, to parents, to friends, to strangers everyone knows what is best for you, everyone wants you to give them your promise.

So today rather unfortunately if I promise you anything I will break it. It is 11-7 which is the opposite and as the rural 7-11 I was at sometime earlier this year that closed at 10pm, I will break today. Yes if there were promises for today made yesterday I will honor. But none can be made today. I will not keep them.

So as it being hug a bear day I will hug myself and not shave my stubble or my body hair or my loveland or anything of that. No one will land in the strip, no will be fluffing, no not today.

It is also magazine day. I really do not like magazines much anymore, the only purpose they have anymore are the pictures or for taking into the bathroom. They are a lost art and once society somehow evolves out of using bathrooms, they will be by the wayside like boom boxes and cassette players.

I only have a few promises that will not be broken. The ones I make to myself. Hopefully you have some promises you have made to yourself as well. I do not generally share these promises with other people as they are deeply personally and my enemies would use them against me. Though anyone who knows me well enough knows that like Achilles I do have a heel.

So have you broken any promises recently? Have you made any promises you can’t keep? Have you promised someone the world when you couldn’t even whip them up a decent ham sandwich?

In the past I am yes, yes, and yes. Once you reach a certain age though, you can answer yes to most things experienced, but some yeses are not ones we like others to know. So we keep our promise to ourselves, we bend but don’t break.

Everyday could be our last. I’d hate to make a promise I could not keep tomorrow. 🙂

  By SpaceDog

Day-2 The Void

I did something today
Worst thing I have done in weeks.
I did nothing.

I was frozen to myself and not answer the phone.
I wanted to send text messages yet the fingers were not there to guide me home.

I wanted to go to the gym but my cigarettes were 10 feet away.

I wanted some guidance; I got disarray.

I wanted to flirt but I was chickenshit.

I wanted to kick over the sign outside the store but then I was feeling overly mature,

So I settled for fish and chips and a double helping of prunes.

I wanted to light a candle but I was too scared to see my reflection in the flame.

I lifted myself upright to only let myself fall back down….
To this void that pierces my skin.

Then the catacombs of my eyes
Matched the patterns on my shirt
It was time to land my hovercraft
Time to latch back onto Earth

I wanted to tell you with a whisper, with a grin
I looked to see your smiling face
There was nothing
Just a deed for your next of kin

I saw a rainbow draped across your barren soft skin
Viewed a million ships sailing
Over the edge of the flattened world
This treachery
This malaise
Beckons us into the sin

Naked I wanted the day
Stripped away
Naked it was
Droopy eyeballs smacking down the turf

I wanted some candy
I settled for slop

I wanted an epiphany
I settled for sloth

I wanted to be myself
But myself was stuck deep within

I travel the void
There is only me
Just think of me baby
Tomorrow I just might be

By SpaceDog 

Fake Doctors: Blah, Blah, Bullshit

Ever since I was a young child, I have been affected by other people’s emotions and thoughts. No I cannot read the minds of people that I do not know and most of the time cannot read the minds of people that I do know. Sometimes I wish I could; most of the time I’m glad I cannot do this the majority of the time.

Yet when I have felt the feelings of others, the majority of the time this has frightened me. This has caused me to turn to alcohol (mostly) and turn to drugs the remander of the times. Usually there is so much negativity when I enter a room or false hope or fake smiles, that I have a proclivity towards not really associating with the general public all that often. 

I have taken recent steps to try and change this. I cannot and will not shut these feelings off anymore with psychotropic drugs, legal or street, ever again. It is rather hard for me to accept these kind of things as being real or being a blessing instead of a curse but I know they do exist. People have tried to label me in the past as having depression or bipolar disorder or (name a disorder ) they’ve probably said, “Yes! You do have THIS!”.

 

Newsflash to all those wonderful people that wear the biggest masquerade ball mask of all! This would be psychatrists to those of who may be wearing a mask of your own.

First of all, I do not accept your practice as a genuine medical science. It is a cash cow. Simply put: We are all human. We all get depressed and anxious and have mood swings and get too happy for things that we shouldn’t be getting so happy about. 

Another reason I do not accept your practice as legitimate is due to the fact that while, yes, I have in fact met the definition of clinical depression in the past but all that antidepressants have done is either make me more depressed or caused side effects so great that the idea of facing the world in any way, shape or form was most undesired.

What you may ask are these side effects? Everything from numbing of the face to sharp pains in my side (presumably my kidney) to having auditory hallucinations (which included by were not limited to hearing all music and sound a semitone lower then what actually was occuring) to homicidal nightmares to headaches that lasted for weeks on end to not having the full functionality of my brain available to me. 

Of course, all doctors and professionals in their field will tell you to bear through the side effects and they will go away. However I have to much of my brain to go without my brain. I’m quick with my mouth and well when it takes 30 seconds to coming up with something clever or meaningful to say versus 2.3 seconds (or less), I am completely dull and worthless to myself and others. 

How then did this depression go away? I made a choice to at least try and be happy. Do things that make me happy. See people that make me happy. Listen to music that makes me happy. It’s pretty amazing how a bunch of little things add up sometimes to complete the puzzle. 

No, I’m not perfect. I still make tons of really stupid decisions but the level of stupidity is going downward. I am the most relaxed I have been in my entire life. 

I am not really afraid of anything except writing. I love to write and since my life is relatively simple now, there is no excuse for me to not drop everything when I get a thought or idea. I guess fear stops me. I’m scarred right now. lol. well not that much more tired. 🙂

I just wish more people could see things the way I do. I don’t want to get into all kinds of specifics right now though, I’m too tired to think much more and too private to reveal all my intracacies in a public blog. Or most people wouldn’t believe what I am saying, at least the ones that think they know me. 

And with that I say naught more. 

By SpaceDog 

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