-one of the broken toys
Wednesday, October 31st, 3:41 am, wide awake,
t____ not awake enough for sex,
decide to stave off depression by catching up on bt's blog,
saved by her fucking brilliance again,
The end of it cannot be marked. So insignificant and quick, it ended like anything ends. But after a while, it's opposing twin asserts her need to consume your life at once, as a wildfire swallows a forest before anyone knew it was there. This is why I can't tack my pin on the time line of depression. Was it during one of the world wars? Was it after the civil rights movement? Did we even have a civil rights movement? So much television and electronic music and the arrogance of prose has obfuscated a basic need for a connection to others who will own up to this numbing malady through the conduits of unassuming poetry. It is this Poetry that fibrillates the rhythm underneath a bi-polar order. Sadness lurks underneath everything that causes happiness, from the leaves that burn the autumnal hillside with the brilliance of defying death, to the fog that slows all movement until the first crack in the spring-thawed ice. There is no order without disorder. There is no disorder if we understand the postmodern capital t in True, order. Ensconced in our safety blankets, we fail to recognize that this is reality and not a dicoloured perfection causing false ideologies. Thank modern science for the drugs to treat this order, because our failed twin focuses on the false idolatry of the disease and not the cause in the mirror.t____ not awake enough for sex,
decide to stave off depression by catching up on bt's blog,
saved by her fucking brilliance again,
Create New X
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 3:52 AM
"Perhaps that is why I am so much more appreciative of everything now...I had often heard people say that they would give everything if only that thing had not happened to them. For me, I did give everything and it still happened and I am unbelievably grateful."
4:20 am, no pot to smoke,
hate that inane and arbitrary designated toke time anyway,
get up to feed the cat instead,
Perhaps this is why I am so less appreciative of everything now...I have often said that I would give everything if I hadn't done that thing to her, or him, if I hadn't broke her heart, or hers, or his. If I hadn't said that stupid thing that I didn't mean, or that stupid thing that I did mean. I've given nothing but pain and everything has fallen into place and still I am unbelievably ungrateful.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 4:22 AM
"Things in my life have taken an interesting turn. I have been more public then I ever have been. Out there and open but still private as my upbringing and background warrants. I have met so many new individuals, I know a good deal of it is one-time-only and tangential, but realistically I would never have had even those kinds of experiences if it weren't for the suffering that had come before...it was a soul ripping hair tearing serrated-edged liturgy into the abyss. You think I am being dramatic, and perhaps I am, but what in your life has made you utterly broken? I have a few instances now and I can say with some measured and humble authority that this was the worst."hate that inane and arbitrary designated toke time anyway,
get up to feed the cat instead,
Perhaps this is why I am so less appreciative of everything now...I have often said that I would give everything if I hadn't done that thing to her, or him, if I hadn't broke her heart, or hers, or his. If I hadn't said that stupid thing that I didn't mean, or that stupid thing that I did mean. I've given nothing but pain and everything has fallen into place and still I am unbelievably ungrateful.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 4:22 AM
--one of the broken toys
5:04 am, t___ still asleep,
no longer innocent,
no longer guilty,
no longer willing to fulfill impossible expectations,
no longer the new girlfriend who lives in boston and wakes me at 3 am to have sex for the 11th time in two days,
no longer the sustenance that keeps me awake during the entire six-hour drive back to new york,
something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue
Things in my life never change, never take a different route, and if they do, they get lost with me on a back road in Vermont. I have never been more private than I am now. Closed off as my background and secret as my family history, but out and open as my new surroundings will warrant. I haven't met any new individuals and have ostracized myself from those soul ripping experiences to avoid all the suffering that has come before. You think I am being dramatic, and I admit that I am, because the chaos in my life that has made me utterly broken is the worst addiction. Even worse than the addiction to push people away by ripping the metronomes from their chests and occluding the passage of the pendulum, because this provides the one-time-only and tangential belief that I have achieved facility through the range of my tempi tempered with the temper of my rage. While my sightless counterparts listen to the cite-less authority of wikipedia: "There has been an effort to attach musical rhythm with some innate biological rhythm, although they have not been met with much success. One sparse correlation is that the beats per minute in a song have been known to affect heart rate, and (coincidentally?) fall roughly in the same range of a normal human heart beat. A fast song can make the heart beat faster, while a slower paced song can make the heart beat slower [citation needed," which I needn't bother to cite since the basic premise of wiki is as follows: "Visitors do not need specialised qualifications to contribute, since their primary role is to write articles that cover existing knowledge; this means that people of all ages and cultural and social background can write Wikipedia articles."
As someone who helps spread the bias behind wiki's worldwide knowledge, I believe I have the authority to say that this practice of creating authority from one's own experience and not from "specialized qualifications" to cover "existing knowledge" is a frightening mirror image of Fox News and the authoritative regime that controls it. After all, this most noted of all scholarly sources quotes the unknown and discredited scholar, Luke Jeremy, as saying, "Spreading knowledge is worth a donation." Yes, Mr. Jeremy, and so is spreading shit, but you don't see decent writers getting rich now do you? I don't know who the fuck Luke Jeremy is, but I do know Lenny Bruce. Do you know Mr. Bruce, Mr. Jeremy? You should, since you both share two first names as your full name. Here's a Wikipedia entry for you, and this one is on the house...consider it as a donation for the new wikimedia: Lenny Bruce was a comedian who was repeatedly arrested and jailed for using "foul" language on stage, for what he knew to be True--his 'authority' on free speech. He once said, "If you can't say FUCK, you can't say "Fuck the government!" His career was never utterly broken [citation needed for the utterly broken phrase, sounds too good to be this contributor's words], and if wiki had been born during his cursing on stage days, he would have said, "Fuck wikipedia for misquoting me, and fuck the contributor who assumed authority on my life and words." I say fuck you for misleading your readers, and fuck you for failing to temper the tempo of the current rate of a capital-driven deterioration of freedom with any sort of Truth. --author unknown, citation: authorial intent [citation pending].
Perhaps this is what bt means by the suffering that comes before. Any dark age must be followed by an enlightenment. Any dip in human relationships must surrender to a free lift. But what the fuck do I know about suffering? After all, I'm no specialist on depression or human behavior (even though psychology is not rocket science), and I'm certainly no prophetic lyricist.
"I'm living in an age
where darkness is light."
--Arcade Fire
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 7:56 AM
The illness presented itself off and on for another blog. Very high fever of 106, and a body gone haywire and lymph nodes so swollen that a litany of PhDs could only take out the problem with a knife. And the copycat bloggers could only cut and paste with the plagiaristic price of a devilish device.
From forbidden control c's to vanished verified v's, her alliterative wounds would not be barraged with a gauchely gauze. Her open neck nicked neither with stitch nor stichomythia.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 8:12 AM
The ending of it cannot be identified. So slow and so fucking small, it ended like anything extraordinary ends. But after some time, the extraordinary nature of it was traversed by its own desire to suffocate. This is why I cannot put a finger on when sadness began. So much isolation and desolation have been covered over by the feeling of happiness that I wasn't sure what sadness even was. I can point to the exact time and date of the ending of happiness, but happiness, like fog, rolls in on you unsuspecting and only until you are completely enveloped in it can you recognize that it was rolling in on you in the first place.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 8:33 AM
Depression is like the ending of a great song.
The beginning of it cannot be identified,
until the repetition of that magnificent fucking song
has drilled every decrescendoed note into your head.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 9:47 AM
PUBLISH POST X
---
god bless autosave
no longer innocent,
no longer guilty,
no longer willing to fulfill impossible expectations,
no longer the new girlfriend who lives in boston and wakes me at 3 am to have sex for the 11th time in two days,
no longer the sustenance that keeps me awake during the entire six-hour drive back to new york,
something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue
Things in my life never change, never take a different route, and if they do, they get lost with me on a back road in Vermont. I have never been more private than I am now. Closed off as my background and secret as my family history, but out and open as my new surroundings will warrant. I haven't met any new individuals and have ostracized myself from those soul ripping experiences to avoid all the suffering that has come before. You think I am being dramatic, and I admit that I am, because the chaos in my life that has made me utterly broken is the worst addiction. Even worse than the addiction to push people away by ripping the metronomes from their chests and occluding the passage of the pendulum, because this provides the one-time-only and tangential belief that I have achieved facility through the range of my tempi tempered with the temper of my rage. While my sightless counterparts listen to the cite-less authority of wikipedia: "There has been an effort to attach musical rhythm with some innate biological rhythm, although they have not been met with much success. One sparse correlation is that the beats per minute in a song have been known to affect heart rate, and (coincidentally?) fall roughly in the same range of a normal human heart beat. A fast song can make the heart beat faster, while a slower paced song can make the heart beat slower [citation needed," which I needn't bother to cite since the basic premise of wiki is as follows: "Visitors do not need specialised qualifications to contribute, since their primary role is to write articles that cover existing knowledge; this means that people of all ages and cultural and social background can write Wikipedia articles."
As someone who helps spread the bias behind wiki's worldwide knowledge, I believe I have the authority to say that this practice of creating authority from one's own experience and not from "specialized qualifications" to cover "existing knowledge" is a frightening mirror image of Fox News and the authoritative regime that controls it. After all, this most noted of all scholarly sources quotes the unknown and discredited scholar, Luke Jeremy, as saying, "Spreading knowledge is worth a donation." Yes, Mr. Jeremy, and so is spreading shit, but you don't see decent writers getting rich now do you? I don't know who the fuck Luke Jeremy is, but I do know Lenny Bruce. Do you know Mr. Bruce, Mr. Jeremy? You should, since you both share two first names as your full name. Here's a Wikipedia entry for you, and this one is on the house...consider it as a donation for the new wikimedia: Lenny Bruce was a comedian who was repeatedly arrested and jailed for using "foul" language on stage, for what he knew to be True--his 'authority' on free speech. He once said, "If you can't say FUCK, you can't say "Fuck the government!" His career was never utterly broken [citation needed for the utterly broken phrase, sounds too good to be this contributor's words], and if wiki had been born during his cursing on stage days, he would have said, "Fuck wikipedia for misquoting me, and fuck the contributor who assumed authority on my life and words." I say fuck you for misleading your readers, and fuck you for failing to temper the tempo of the current rate of a capital-driven deterioration of freedom with any sort of Truth. --author unknown, citation: authorial intent [citation pending].
Perhaps this is what bt means by the suffering that comes before. Any dark age must be followed by an enlightenment. Any dip in human relationships must surrender to a free lift. But what the fuck do I know about suffering? After all, I'm no specialist on depression or human behavior (even though psychology is not rocket science), and I'm certainly no prophetic lyricist.
"I'm living in an age
where darkness is light."
--Arcade Fire
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 6:12 AM
"Even the cancer (I loathe to call it that out loud or in print, but there it is) that I suffered 10 years ago was not a match for this unbalancing. I have written endlessly about _____ so perhaps we should talk about that cancer. It does give some perspective to the entire episode."
--one of the broken toys
"Even the cancer (I loathe to call it that out loud or in print, but there it is) that I suffered 10 years ago was not a match for this unbalancing. I have written endlessly about _____ so perhaps we should talk about that cancer. It does give some perspective to the entire episode."
--one of the broken toys
6:23 am,
stunned by bt's bravery,
by her stunning awareness of herself,
by the cunning way I create an abstruse au fait of myself with an arcane list of characteristics and esoteric talk of linguistics
stunned by bt's bravery,
by her stunning awareness of herself,
by the cunning way I create an abstruse au fait of myself with an arcane list of characteristics and esoteric talk of linguistics
Even the chronic depression, the ADD, the bi-polar disorder (I love to call it that in silent print, and fuck all, thar she blows), I suffer still is no match from this balance of acting like I know what I want and knowing what I know how to act. I have written endlessly about _______ so perhaps we should talk about that fucking daughter of Zeus. She does give some charm to the entire fucking perspective...
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 6:37 AM
But that was really just the start of it. To tell the whole tale would take a book and perhaps someday it will be in that form, but for now here is a shortened version. My father died two days after I was released from the hospital. I was out from work for 3 weeks. It also happened to be the week my partner decided he could no longer cope with someone who was both quite ill and completely heartbroken over her father's death. The death of his own father haunted him and to be constantly reminded of it was too much. It took one more year for the finale of these feelings between the to of us, but we both look on that month as the instigator.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 6:37 AM
But that was really just the start of it. To tell the whole tale would take a book and perhaps someday it will be in that form, but for now here is a shortened version. My father died two days after I was released from the hospital. I was out from work for 3 weeks. It also happened to be the week my partner decided he could no longer cope with someone who was both quite ill and completely heartbroken over her father's death. The death of his own father haunted him and to be constantly reminded of it was too much. It took one more year for the finale of these feelings between the to of us, but we both look on that month as the instigator.
6:44 am,
fucking A, I/m no believer,
no fucking authorial intender,
nothing in the sheets of my contender
fucking A, I/m no believer,
no fucking authorial intender,
nothing in the sheets of my contender
But that was really just the start of it. To tell the whole tale would take a fucking blovella, and perhaps one day it will knock down my short-doored version of my strawberry-shortcaked, paternaled version of my partner's decision that she can no longer cope with someone who is both quite ill and completely crestfallen over her childhood's death. The death of her own childhood haunted her and to be constantly reminded of it was too much. It took more than we could predict for the finale of these feelings between the two of us, but we both look on that decade as the instigator of the power dynamic of the q & a:
Q.i hate teachers and they're everywhere, what should i do?
A. Learn to love them.
Q.i hate teachers and they're everywhere, what should i do?
A. Learn to love them.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 7:56 AM
The illness presented itself off and on for another blog. Very high fever of 106, and a body gone haywire and lymph nodes so swollen that a litany of PhDs could only take out the problem with a knife. And the copycat bloggers could only cut and paste with the plagiaristic price of a devilish device.
From forbidden control c's to vanished verified v's, her alliterative wounds would not be barraged with a gauchely gauze. Her open neck nicked neither with stitch nor stichomythia.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 8:12 AM
The ending of it cannot be identified. So slow and so fucking small, it ended like anything extraordinary ends. But after some time, the extraordinary nature of it was traversed by its own desire to suffocate. This is why I cannot put a finger on when sadness began. So much isolation and desolation have been covered over by the feeling of happiness that I wasn't sure what sadness even was. I can point to the exact time and date of the ending of happiness, but happiness, like fog, rolls in on you unsuspecting and only until you are completely enveloped in it can you recognize that it was rolling in on you in the first place.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 8:33 AM
Depression is like the ending of a great song.
The beginning of it cannot be identified,
until the repetition of that magnificent fucking song
has drilled every decrescendoed note into your head.
PUBLISH POST saving....SAVED Draft autosaved at 9:47 AM
PUBLISH POST X
---
god bless autosave
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