bah y mi 

caution: winning kills

There is nothing like writing and writing... day in and day out… the endless cycle of words is the only living thing I spew. It is actually quite sad. I once wanted to live life. I wanted to hike- to climb the mountain, smear the dirt, taste the sweat and scrape the skin. It is all a faded memory now. There once was a wet damp leaf, frosted over with dirt and live insects. Now it is a dirty room- the recognition and the testimony to frustration, irritation, death, ignorance. It is no wonder that I am in a very bad mood then, since I no longer try to obligate the masses. I have been the rope, in my past life. My cords were frayed, my mind was taut, tense, and sacrificed- all for the temperamental vices. I was pulled this way 30 degrees, this way 5 inches, dunked in mud on victory’s round and then I was crucified by the very ones who cried my name. It was brutal and I was a death defier. I can look at it two ways- I am a triumphant successor who carries battle wounds with pride- or- I am saying, at every moment, “It is finished,” as I drag my dead body around, trying to altogether fall over and disappear. The last one is mine. It is one of reluctant recognition and agonized defeat. I stood for about ten minutes and looked around the room- I saw the remains of intense fruitful activity, I saw the open tools and utensils, I saw the discarded copies and versions, I saw numbers and names. Then I looked down, at myself. I saw flesh and might- at least the remains of such- when I was gradually pulled through the paper shredder. Ah, procrastination, for tomorrow, what potency! You have wrought my final hour- and my quiet, unnoticed downfall- indeed, for it was because of my immense victory that no one took notice of my fall. But here I lay- in the bottom of pit that is muddy and worn- countless times have I fallen before, each time believing it to be my last, yet I have risen, and now have returned. Will I rise? Will I ever return? Oh, it would be nice, to have legs, arms, and eyes again…. but it is so peaceful here… I can finally rest. I want to stay here… until I am ground to frustration and burst out of the pit in splendid defiance. In a spit of anger I prefer to rise. I have wearied and journeyed long enough. Here I shall not wait- I shall rest. If I so happen to be filled with a surge of desire- then so let it be, so let it come, as it may. Whatever, in truth, whatever.

oh no

the dreaded day that starbucks plays black eyed peas has finally come, sniff