About you.

Names, like appearances, are naught more than labels.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

blarg shnarg blugganarg [{cl}]

gribbum grabbum ectoplasm. epuhwhum moogley bum. marg-gammatoo ichtumbloo, echmach peldominitue; merdif low-low weggumind, plammint arwentood. alsiggy. alsiggy. projectile mocha related mishaps.

well, sorry to disappoint, but i won't bring myself to conjure further phonetic chaos. though it wasn't really chaos. though it was gibberish. there was a lot of order there.

i don't imagine that very many people would be interested until this point, or entertained. i'm not shooting for that. i'm not shooting for anything in particular. this post is probably turning out to be an apt example of what you'd encounter if you were to encounter me. though you may not recognize the substance within this post, or (were you to observe it) the vibrant canvas of creation that resides just behind my apparently normal, functional, friendly, loving demeanor.

the w4m section is pretty scary. i figured i'd post something to be buried with all the garbage that floods the m4w section.

maybe this is a stream of consciousness sort of work. though my typing can't keep up with the stream. it's winding up being more like a stone skipping across a stream of consciousness and transferring its impression of the particular portion of the surface that it impacts. i'm not high or otherwise chemically altered at the moment. i'm just bored and typing this bullshit - or whatever it is. i'm sincere, whether or not this all winds up being nonsense. and stuff.

ohm eye god.

maybe i'm a fan of phonetics. maybe i play around with them inside of my head sometimes. maybe this is the first time i've put the results of that particular sort of thought to some other medium (other than thought... ya know).

text sucks. you'll never hear me through this. i'm a fourth-dimensional consciousness existing within a three dimensional world, conveying thoughts through a two dimensional medium. language has such shortcomings. it's vast, and all - but, it's finite; it's one of so many points trying to represent a sphere, to convey something so far beyond it as to encompass.. well, more than language is sufficient to convey.

it's crossed my mind that, if you're reading this, you may be wondering what i'm "looking for." i've asked myself the same question, for your sake (and many times [on other occasions] for my own), and any of these answers are true: nothing; everything; something specific; many specific things; i dunno; "her;" companionship; reciprocity; balance; an echo, a portrayal of what i am perceived to be by some static point (your perspective) outside of myself - i bore me, i'm old news to me, though i may excite you; you; me; us, we, and to share the experience of shattering the bounds of the imaginary gulf between the two parties that comprise them ("you" and "me"); to get this, whatever it is, off of my chest and my mind - it's burdensome and annoying and persistent; understanding; to be understood; to be known; to know; relief; someone to relieve; love (it's all we need); someone whose mind, while perhaps often ordered and submissive to propriety's protocol, is often drawn to be more - something like an aircraft that spends most of its time taxiing amongst automobiles, i mean, isn't stuff so much simpler and so much more complex than people seem to tend to perceive it to be?; someone who, after reading this, senses something familiar or alluring rather than off-putting or seemingly insane; and stuff; and lots of other stuff; and the uncontainable; more. more. more.

i'm keeping this for me, too. i'm sure i'll like it some time.

i haven't evaluated what i've typed so far, or (importantly [it seems to be important within this very moment, at least]) whether or not i've managed to convey anything that i'd consider valuable or of merit - whatever that means. i've conveyed that i can properly utilize punctuation while ignoring letter case. there's got to be tons of stuff in between the lines, all the stuff that gets washed out of other composures that i measure and edit and "correct" and force to conform to what my proper sense dictates they should conform to. like my mannerisms in daily life; i'm a nice, proper dude - even if i am, lately (for the last two years or so), prone to delve into and share my thoughts of the intangible, regardless of the subject breached. it all relates to the intangible; maybe it's just not obvious sometimes or to some people.


i'm gonna re-read all of this, now.

nope, i don't see anything worthwhile thus far.

i don't really feel like trying for more. if i'd felt like trying in the first place, the result would have been much less accurate of a description of what i am, and a much more accurate description of what - when i'm thinking about what i am - i like to think that i am.


i'm fucking amazing and under-utilized.
i'm fucking brilliant and under-applied.

i could utter a syllable and send crashing to the ground the skyscrapers full of your doubt and the things that you've accepted as reasons why not. i could fix you with my gaze for an instant and catalyze a supernova from what was the meager spark remaining of your belief, of your sense of your own soul, of your passion, your awe.

i just can't do it for myself. well, i did, once. i came back, though. i can't recall why, though i once narrowed it down to my desire to bring others to the other side of the threshold i'd crossed. in order to humor this particular mindset/moodset, though, i'll color things a bit and say that i came back for you. yes, i'd be delighted to meet a friend or a lover with whom i'd share moments or the rest of my life, contiguously or sporadically, over few occasions or many - but i'm really looking for a relationship (the sharing between two apparently separate entities) that transcends definition beyond what's within the preceding parentheses. i think that's the answer to the question i gave the several answers to - i need to encounter someone with whom expectation is alien, and needs the same. i'm too dynamic to be defined. i am pure potentiality (or somewhere near as pure as it gets once distilled into this human form).


that is what i am this evening.

maybe that is what i always am, and this is just me realizing it as i too seldom do.

who are you?
what am i?
why are we?
i don't really care, except to be.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

i'm a phoenix named icarus