she's so cold and human
it's something humans do
she stays so golden solo
she's so number nine
she's incredible math
just incredible math

and is she really human?
she's just so something new
a waking lithium flower
just about to bloom
I smell lithium now
smelling lithium now

how is she when she doesn't surf?
how is she when she doesn't surf?
how is she when she doesn't surf?
I wonder what she does when she wakes up?
when she wakes up

so matador
so calm
so oil on a fire
she's so good
she's so goddess lithium flower
so sonic wave
yeah, she's so groove, yeah
she's so groove
yeah

wow, where did she learn how to surf?
wow, where did she learn how to surf?
wow, where did she learn how to surf?
you know I've never seen the girl wipe out

how does she so perfectly surf?
how does she so perfectly surf?
how does she so perfectly surf?
I wonder what she does when she wakes up?

I wanna go surfing with her
I wanna go surfing with her
I wanna go surfing with her
I wanna go surfing with her

[Cassiopeia]

Cassio...
What the fuck - Would you do anything to work out all wrong?
It's my freedom
Cassio! Cassio!

"I always chalked it up to lingering expectations of one another we secretly held, and neither ever met. Regret for having them, and an even more secret regret for having tried to figure out what they were, wanting to be the other just a little more."

"I love you and I miss you, but you already knew that. The corrosion of our sanctity was never afflicted by our absence from one another, rather that from within it you may have doubted this, and now regret having done so."

it's hard to find beautiful ideals just so when all you can see is how they dominate and crush the life out of people who crave them without any idea how to fulfill them.

so that's what i do.

i'm here to attain, become, or devaluate every ideal i see cherished or trusted whenever i can; i don't share them with those who seek them because such things cannot be transmuted and transmitted the way a touch or kiss can, yet people seemed to think this just so.

i'm more than fairly sure people get close to me for what i feel are the wrong reasons.

"Valuing unusual conduct is not as good as being careful about
ordinary actions."

just because you are in love does not mean things will work out. trap, trap. hook, line, and sinker.
often you will have to know how and when to walk away; when to quit trying.

"When the liver is diseased, the eyesight fails; when the kidneys are diseased, the hearing is adversely affected. The disease is not visible, but its effects are. Therefore, enlightened people, wishing to be free from obvious faults, first get rid of hidden faults."

Za mechtoyu na kraj propasti
Lish' tol'ko tak mozhno mir spasti

I'm a soldier, znachit ya
I otvetchik i sud'ya
Ya stoyu na dvuh kontsah ognya
Ogibaya virazhi, obgonyaya smert' i zhizn'

all of this time you had made the decision to learn to have compassion for the world - for anyone, really, outside yourself. as you swayed to and fro on your resolve of what that was, i held your hand, bit my tongue, and wondered how long it would be until you awareness kicked in and you realized you were experimenting on me without realizing it. without asking. because i was the closest thing you had to represent the human condition, i was the closest, easiest person to affect in this way.

while you spent all this time learning hot to suffer for others
who do you think has been quiet, warm and lifting, suffering for you?

[tighten your tie boy
you’re something to die for
but don’t hold your breath now
you’re just killing time
tonight you can dream boy
imagine a whisper
if you can keep secrets
then I’ll tell you mine]

[this is forever but it won’t last long
this is a memory that fades away in neverending
in the death of all that’s long been said and done before,
we’ll wish that we were something more]

[stop wasting time boy
you’re late all your life boy
they won’t have the patience
for someone like you]

[you’re standing alone boy
waiting for dreams boy
waiting for something
to make them come true]

[look in my eyes boy
nothing like yours now
it seems that a lifetime
is passing us you by]

these days, it's not that i can't sleep, it's that i don't want to.
this resolution is comforting, since i can resolve myself to a kind of pretend control over some aspect of my being.

i've destroyed my legs. six or seven miles. i destroyed my lungs by running too hard on miles two through four. i couldn't even make it up the stairs when i returned.

i came home early. warm kitchen, small noses pressed into my chest as i cleaned and groomed my atmosphere preparing for a night of productivity. a conversation ensued shortly thereafter on a jaunt to the postoffice, and the catalytic point is all that needs to be explained: too much arrogance.

people start feeling good about themselves for once, forget they haven't wings since last they died.

so i left, dumped my parcels off - went running, and crying, and running.
an exegesis long overdue.

when i think of being held, i don't think of who i probably should; i don't imagine myself in their arms because i don't feel that it's possible they could ever protect me when they can barely take care of theirself. living != surviving. i tell myself that i will confront certain unmet needs and desires when mentality and well-being stabilizes, but i question whether or not that will actually happen as i fear they are addicted to their melancholy. i also fear they are addicted to me, which is infinitely more frightening, as i've been placed on a pedestal to which i don't belong.

so when i imagine being held, i don't feel supported, i feel held down. and i find myself wondering what it is to be held in different arms.

this isn't to express futility in the dynamic we share, although it does remind me that at some point i need to address the fact that no one person will ever satisfy me (and i believe this is the case with most humans. if one person were enough, then why the fuck is there so much divorce or cheating in the world now that those are socially acceptable to be public about? i'd like some suggestions, if you disagree)

and i can deal with this reality, and although i explain myself quite clearly i still find people trying to fit the mould of prince or princess charming all too often, once again: with friends, lovers, and those who blur the lines.

it's ironic, to me, how this journal has become an ongoing dialogue for something so trvial and simple to reconcile. i suppose, then, what troubles me is that it's not so simple for everyone else around me and i struggle to maintain compusure and fake my way through life until i can find a loophole into a comfortable happy-medium. i'd be alone, but i get bored far too easily, and so i seem to be attracted to bullying myself into submission time and time again.



























.

then i end up here, pouring my feelings out to the black box silhouette of everything i seek to destroy in the name of my own degree of perfection, but would never, for sake of preserving theirs.

[and i've had recurring nightmares
that i was loved for who i am
and missed the opportunity
to be a better man]

epilogue:

which isn't to say i'm afflicted with the dis-ease of social and emotional masochism. i abandoned that after it served it's pupose and taught me a transcendance i have yet to reimburse for many long journies up the ladder to where i am now.

this is dedicated to everyone i've ever met.

i used to say that all i want is your hands, pulling gently on my hair, holding me up as a marionnete so that i would never have to worry about keeping my head up high again. you would be a force of inspiration so undeniable that i couldn't break free from your grasp lest i desire to fall to the ground, shatter, and be no more.

i later revaluated this infant escape as i struggled with my own pride and independance. i didn't want your hands, i only wanted your mind from then on and i would do anything to pry it from you and put it on display, that i might show you off a little: and in private, you would be an electrifying indulgence. our combined intellect would save the world - or rather, the parts of it we wanted to save to suit our device and purpose. when i had realised the limitations of this microcosm, i left it behind, bored. this would be repeated several times over until i became dissappointed and unenthousiastic about ever speaking to you again.

this is getting dangerous, now. this time of little faith, this time of desire and hope for something that seeks to balance the scales that are weighted in favour of a god we don't believe in - yet silently pray to every so often.

it's just - i'm a sucker for romantic ideas, though thankfully[?] i'm even more a sucker for the brutality that results therefrom.

there is a girl on my street who sings a song. the same song. without any music. just her voice.
and it sounds like a ballad from old days of war. field tilling and a sweaty brow. sun beating through the skin. it's as though there's some mythology attached to it that i can never understand never having lived it, to be quite frank.

i pine for the few moments i hear her.

she's singing right now.

a few nights ago while asleep, i walked through a tangent that led me to the back of a coffee house and into a warehouse that had converted to a social meetingplace; not an uncommon occurance in any major north american city.

a girl about my height, with erratic hair in a black bob, piercing eyeliner, and a slick style of dress so inspiring it went over my head - came up to me, embraced me, and begged me the answer as to why it took me so long to return.

the familiar sensation dawned on me, that i had met this girl before. it was quickly washed away by a feeling of regret. not really guilt, but regret for having forgotten her.

she kisses my neck and strokes my shoulders while onlookers gawk as if it's out of the ordinary. i close my eyes, and i am calmed from my usual nighttime fury.

"what's your name?"
i ask. she frowns, pulling back to give me a puzzled look.
"amber marie, don't you remember?"
"a lot has happened. i barely remember my own name, so.."
she smiles. that's explanation enough. she takes my hand, and it's as though i'm reunited with the sister lover i lost long ago, even though i'm not certain if this person exists in waking life.

i wake up.
forget about the dream.
coming home from work and sitting on the train, her name pops into my head.

AMBER MARIE.
i walk down the street, and as i mouth the words outloud
HOW DO I FIND HER?
i look up and out of my narrow haze to find a girl standing in front of me, back to me, that looks identical. IDENTICAL.

i pause, in a state of skepticism and shock; i reach up to tap her on the shoulder, hesitate in doubt a moment - and then at the change of the light she walks off down nelson street, possibly gone forever.

i'm liquid at the idea of integrating, but terrified of relying on anything other than myself.
desperation tames my stubborness as I realize that this might only be common sense breaking through.
knowing one's limits is knowledge enough, but for how long, i say.. hm.

it's always easier not to, it's true.

drink and eat and drink and eat and sleep, sleep, sleep.

i never thought that a pill would help me remember who i am, and now i'm convinced it's the only thing that will.

i want to fuck her, ,hold her, and leave her,,
as if i could without any reservation.

able whip and solid gaze: i slink into her as the moon on the horizon when my face awakens to hers as the morning lights the sky, but i can't seem to feel anything beyond this crippling apathy that i traded every piece of my last self for and without bricks to build a home for this withering beast the creature cries out: and only decays further.

i really want.
to be
it.

i am it.
where are you
what are you
gods among men

never afraid of mortals
instead of our moments in between the silence and the cut of the pupil.

i used to think this was romantic or a challange of some sort.
now it's just a pain in the ass, i think.

i don't want to feel obligated to a community or humanity, i'm tired of people that can't take care of themselves.
(i'm not so arrogant that i assume i know what's best for billions.)
I AM ARROGANT ENOUGH TO ASSUME THAT ABOUT MYSELF.
(and it's not this)

i don't want love that is desperate and clinging, or confined - i want dedication and trust instead of jealousy and insecurity -
(and i am naive, and when life hands you lemons, you shut the fuck up and take the fucking lemons given to you, you stupid fuck)

i don't want friendship that is conditional, however i don't want friends who will change and accept the apathy of their goals because that's my one condition
(double standards. i'm not claiming this exempts me, but can we at least be a little bit aware of ourselves?)

i don't want you if you are afraid to express yourself, if your honesty has the clause of fear of judgement. i want unadulterated humanity delivered when i ask you to confess.
(I AM TIRED OF DRUGS AND ALCOHOL AS CATALYSTS OR EXCUSES)

I don't want a lover, I want an accomplice not afraid to back down.
I don't want a mystic or a magician, I want a god not afraid to be many.

I NEED. I NEED SOMEONE WHO BOTH CHALLENGES AND SUPERCEDES MY IDEALS.
I NEED SOMEONE AS GOOD AS I AM UNDER MY (OUR) TERMS.

i used to think it was possible to find someone similar enough to myself that at the very least these few criteria would be roughly filled; i used to pretend that i wasn't an anomaly and that if i waited and held out long enough, i might be lucky enough to find someone who fit the bill. i keep settling, i keep hoping, and i keep failing. i keep getting bored, so much that i fear being involved with anyone to avoid going through the same process of heartbreak over again.

(AND THEN I MET HER, SHE WHO FEELS THE SAME. IS THIS IT?!)

..

because, i remind myself: this is the last time.
but by the time i get the chance to hold her:
i may care so little that any love would be lost on her.
and my abraision may cut so deep that she may not wake up when i'm done with her.


i'm also very tired of being lied to.
i know she hasn't lied to me, but have i to her?
I CAN'T TELL ANYMORE.

i don't want a lover, i want an accomplice.

and now i can't stop thinking about.
and what might happen if.
and what would happen after.
and how we would part ways
only to begin the same cycle over again with someone else.

how about, miss, you just break the cycle?

crack. bam.










done even before you were able to break the ties to me.
this is what decay is to an ordinary man.
to me? it's a fucking revolution.

you don't need to fear the end, because it already came.
what you should be worried about is that it passed you by.

idle creatures.

scrip scrip methoxy.

i'm beginning to scar from every time i am unduely misinterpreted.

all i desire is to be held by boundlessness; cradled by the understanding that security is false and be secure in knowing that.

i lost my virginity to a coin toss.

i was sitting on my bed with my closest friend at that time. a simple, idle afternoon toned with sunlight and a guitar tuned down an octave to help us pretend we were brooding more than we actually were. it has been years since; i don’t remember the conversation leading up to the coin toss but i think that it was probably as meaningless and as irrelevant as the sex that would follow.

sex really isn’t a big deal.

i know.

so what are you waiting for, a knight in shining armour?

no. I just haven’t really had any urges to have sex.

but you’ll fool around with me when you want to get off?

that’s about it.

you’re strange.

[I shrug]

is that a quarter on your nightstand?

yes.

okay. look. i'm going to flip that coin. heads, i'll do it. right here, right now. just get it over with. you're my best friend; you're my partner in crime. we run this empire, we rule it. it makes more sense to me to lose my virginity to a friend who will be there the next day than to pretend it's going to be glamourous, romantic, or special with some guy who's going to break my heart. tails, though, and i'm leaving here in ten minutes to head to my practice.




it was heads. there wasn't any kissing, a little big of fooling around to get me in the mood, and then before i knew it the awkward thrusting was over and i was less a virgin and more a woman, as they say.
my mind was already made up before it happened. sex does not imply sincere love, sincere love does not imply good sex, and more often than not people will not be honest with themselves that the two must often be respected as entirely separate. i'm not so naive to pretend this isn't so.

since that day, two things haven't changed that are often repressed, ignored, or shunned in my everyday interactions.

i don't understand monogamy. aside from avoiding a disease, monogamy doesn't make sense to me. i don't have any emotion attached to sex unless i want myself to, and even then it seems ridiculous to me to confine one's emotional outpourings to one other human. where's the fucking love? can't we respect one anotehr enough to love without feeling needy, protective, or selfish? real love is not a form of posessiveness. and still, yet, many who engage in polyamorous lifestyles do so solely to be promiscuous. i don't care about that. i just want to be as close as i posibly can to the people that matter most to me. in every way imagineable.

i was supposed to be more of a woman as i came out of that rite of passge, i'm told. i find that as years go by that is les and less the case as i continue to masquerade under the guise of an attractive female husk secretly growing more and more androgynous as the days pass. my sexuality and gender fluctuate daily and being honest about it alienates me just as much as my previous expression. combined, it really does condemn me from finding suitable partners with which to take on the world with. i always end up settling; either they're accomodating of only one of these things and not the other or they assure me with utmost confidence that they're able to handle them - one or both - only to later discover they are not wired that way, and that they really like the idea of them more than the reality when confronted.

so i settle.
they try to change me; convince me something is wrong with me.
"if you really love me, you'd only want to be with just me."
"you're not gay, you look like too much of a girl."
"it's just because you're afraid of commitment, you're just confused."

i know exactly what i want.
i would commit without failing were i to discover another wired just so.
it just doesn't seem very likely that i will.


i suppose i'm involved with a very likely success case right now.
however at the moment i'm overwhelmed with being pressured into living together.
i need my space. i like having my own space and my room and i need to be by myself most of the time.
it's not an insult to anyone. not to you. not to the next or last or any of those i've been involved with.
it's just how i am.
and i'm tired of being blackmailed about that too.
unintentional blackmail and guilt, but it's there none the less.

i don't mind compromising when i can at least feel like i'm making the choice to, you know?

the moment is tense.
if all moments were this tense, i would have never been able to have passed you by without a notice as i did.
i could be more perceptive. i could be more aware.
but that wouldn't make you any more interesting to be around.
so i probably would have left you either way.

i have no problem with individuals who live like it's fiction.
a manic striptease of love; a show of girth.
a belly of risk and imagination.
i have no problems with that.
i do, however, have problems with individuals who force their contructions on to me. cardboardbox made into a suit. it's awkward. doesn't fit. everyone notices. i look as absurd as you do, only moreso because they never expected it from me.

[this was how you won. they expected it from me, not you. i was labelled, you were liberated. next hand, i'ma steal all the motehrfuckin' aces. ]

(but then? oh come on now.. you tried to destroy me when you could not own and control me. too typical. it made me cry because i was, at the very least, hoping for something interesting. if you weren't interesting throughout our entire time together, couldn't you at least go out with a bang? i don't mean behaviour - i mean underlying mechanism and instinct. that's all i care about anymore. i slipped away; not just far away - but across a horizon you can't even begin to approach for perspective. i lost a friend, you lost a soul. but i never really cared, knowing full well it would turn out this way. you did too, but you'll never admit it because that would absolve me from blame. and you love, little lamb, to blame me ever so much.)

i'm sure; i'm sure you've let these instance overlap and inquired of many.
increased the odds.
if you don't tell anyone: what they don't know can't hurt them in this case, because you would never pick someone superficial enough to pine on uniqueness as if it were a saving grace. as it it were a saving. as if it were grace in any way.
which. i'm convinced it's not.

er.

but. i'm one of the many, aren't i? [HOW MANY did you increase your odds by?]
am i excused from the clause?
maybe. secretly. you were hoping that one day one of us might catch on
but understand your methods and madness enough that we wouldn't care.
that would be love, wouldn't it? forgiveness?


and.
i understand how easy it is to become bored enough to go that far.
desperation. keep me chained to intrigue.
lock and key; against the odds
that's where you'll find me.

what if you were tricked into a promise; an unconscious commitment that that you would have otherwise been terrified to fulfill had you been offered the chance knowingly?

curiousity begs me to discover whether the mechanism is universal to the company i keep; frightened syndromes slow to a pulse too soft to notice. remind them of their life, and they will destroy you with their welcome.

the ages i confined to straps and pages were printed and assembled just so;
bound and archived they ruminate of an alcove i aim to never think about.
even so, a nuance of my stillness is alive and ticking, hidden with them.
they are not forgotten, but they are ignored.