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If yesterday's mood was shitty...
Nov. 25th, 2007 12:57 amNeuroticfish - They're Coming to Take Me Away..--- If i was in a shitty mood, yesterday, then today I'm in a very Strange mood. My reaction time is twitchy, keyed up, attentuated, distracted. I want to talk to new people about old things, to go to Waffle House or R. Thomas (though never again on a Saturday. You know that.) and sit, and talk and the memeories would come flooding back, ancient times and distant shores and memories of times lost or created, a shared headspace, a point of view similar to each other and a combination of symbol, myth, scope and meaning that we spni together in a synchronous moment of fire and lightning, and we remember.
Remember each other, perhaps, or simply ourselves, or, if we're really lucky, remember the times when we were each other. The swirling milieu mass of identity and separation-merger-recombination dance that makes you me and me her and us ourselves, together, again and again. (Michael Andrews - [Philosophy of Time Travel]). HAH! Yes. That's what i'm talking about! Taking it back to the good old days, the bad days, "the all-or-nothin' days." Days when every coincidence meant everything, and no space was left unturned or unconnected. Your name meant fire and blades, and ice to me, then, and it does now.
But I feel like I 've lost the ability to walk on the edges...
APE Hangers - [I Don't Want To Live Today]--- I need to wash my face and clean my mind, and go out tonight and do something with some of you, because I don't think I can do it, here. I think that here, when I talk like this, I make you uncomfortable. I think that, here, when I talk like this, with the fire in my heart, so many of you have no idea what to do with it, no idea how to handle it, hold it, have it within and without getting burned. When that's precisely what I want. I want you bright, burning, effulgent, glorious dark. I want the inner corners and recesses of you, the pockets of darkness that you can only whisper across phone lines at 3am, when you think we aren't talking to each other, or maybe you think we're talking to the whole of eachother, the open yawning space of the darkwetpusling that is Us, that takes it in, and screams for Kaouri, before we crush each other into our cells.
Yellow Machinegun - [No Way]--- I want to talk to you like three ayem all day. I want to tell the Dark and The light, in equal measure, and whenever it comes to mine. Mind. (Death In Vegas - [Twist And Crawl]). I want the insides of you, the grooves and whorls that spiral inward and infuse you wih the Eye of God. I want to run my tongue along your synapses and taste the electric sonic boom that is the crossing of thresholds the opening of doors the building of silver roads and pathways in your mind. And I want you to want that from me.
And there's the key, i think, because I want what I want, and you want what you want, and maybe the twain shall meet. But not necessarily. I'm unsure what you want. I'm unsure what my friendship, my readership, me viewership, my participation means to you, and I'm doing my very damnedest to be clear as to what yours means to me.
The back of my throat is burning, like i've been inhaling a low level of smoke, for the past few minutes, but I don't smell smoke. I don't really smell anything at all, except the heater, the dust. (Rasputina - [1816, The Year Without a Summer]). I'm lost of steam now.
We're here, aren't we? This is why... We're each of sitting here, offering fingers, palms, lines, nails and tendons. All of us waiting for the other to lend a hand.
I want to take yours, I really do, but truth to tell I've been kind of scared to. You know why? Because what I want you to want of me, to need of me, to be able to take from what I give of me is not necessarily what you will want need or be able to take. I might fail to meet your expectations. And then you might disappear. Mightn't you? Be honest. There's always a chance. All Ways, A Chance. Yes. Precisely. We take the risk, no matter what, don't we? We take the leap, the step, the course, and we may fail or fall or fly, or trip, stumble stutter-step into the future. But we try.
Rasputina - [The Pruning]--- So try. Tell your friends. Try.
Let's Start Some Shit.
Remember each other, perhaps, or simply ourselves, or, if we're really lucky, remember the times when we were each other. The swirling milieu mass of identity and separation-merger-recombination dance that makes you me and me her and us ourselves, together, again and again. (Michael Andrews - [Philosophy of Time Travel]). HAH! Yes. That's what i'm talking about! Taking it back to the good old days, the bad days, "the all-or-nothin' days." Days when every coincidence meant everything, and no space was left unturned or unconnected. Your name meant fire and blades, and ice to me, then, and it does now.
But I feel like I 've lost the ability to walk on the edges...
APE Hangers - [I Don't Want To Live Today]--- I need to wash my face and clean my mind, and go out tonight and do something with some of you, because I don't think I can do it, here. I think that here, when I talk like this, I make you uncomfortable. I think that, here, when I talk like this, with the fire in my heart, so many of you have no idea what to do with it, no idea how to handle it, hold it, have it within and without getting burned. When that's precisely what I want. I want you bright, burning, effulgent, glorious dark. I want the inner corners and recesses of you, the pockets of darkness that you can only whisper across phone lines at 3am, when you think we aren't talking to each other, or maybe you think we're talking to the whole of eachother, the open yawning space of the darkwetpusling that is Us, that takes it in, and screams for Kaouri, before we crush each other into our cells.
Yellow Machinegun - [No Way]--- I want to talk to you like three ayem all day. I want to tell the Dark and The light, in equal measure, and whenever it comes to mine. Mind. (Death In Vegas - [Twist And Crawl]). I want the insides of you, the grooves and whorls that spiral inward and infuse you wih the Eye of God. I want to run my tongue along your synapses and taste the electric sonic boom that is the crossing of thresholds the opening of doors the building of silver roads and pathways in your mind. And I want you to want that from me.
And there's the key, i think, because I want what I want, and you want what you want, and maybe the twain shall meet. But not necessarily. I'm unsure what you want. I'm unsure what my friendship, my readership, me viewership, my participation means to you, and I'm doing my very damnedest to be clear as to what yours means to me.
The back of my throat is burning, like i've been inhaling a low level of smoke, for the past few minutes, but I don't smell smoke. I don't really smell anything at all, except the heater, the dust. (Rasputina - [1816, The Year Without a Summer]). I'm lost of steam now.
We're here, aren't we? This is why... We're each of sitting here, offering fingers, palms, lines, nails and tendons. All of us waiting for the other to lend a hand.
I want to take yours, I really do, but truth to tell I've been kind of scared to. You know why? Because what I want you to want of me, to need of me, to be able to take from what I give of me is not necessarily what you will want need or be able to take. I might fail to meet your expectations. And then you might disappear. Mightn't you? Be honest. There's always a chance. All Ways, A Chance. Yes. Precisely. We take the risk, no matter what, don't we? We take the leap, the step, the course, and we may fail or fall or fly, or trip, stumble stutter-step into the future. But we try.
Rasputina - [The Pruning]--- So try. Tell your friends. Try.
Let's Start Some Shit.
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