spin thin wild things. so out of control yea.
I asked my agent/manager the person who keeps me up at night how I would know if it was the person. The one to choose, not necessarily the one I should choose. He said, you’ll know. You will know. How strange it is today. I hung out in the city with homo Jeremy. Chilled. Strange these correlations. Almost a parellel. Except the part about growing up in a cult. ha ha. I guess we can’t all choose where we come from. I definitely didn’t.
I have my dreams fueled by new hopes. Hearts spinning, sewn up in these moments when eyes rise and visions unearth.
The tedium in my daily life is changing. Tomorrow. yes. I am tired of being involved heavily with people who are sickened with complacent hearts. broken backs and the tendency to just not believe. Francis is the best. I say this often, though at times I am thrown into hateful positions. Alot of this has to do with the squeamishness of the signs colliding. Francis being a taurus, bull-headed thick-minded, sometimes prone to tearing. And I, seeking the balance yet somehow still adversely affected by my mother’s control issues. I am not living in a “clean” domicile but when the urge hits, I tend to do it at really stupid times. 3 am 4 am. I lost my keys. I am the undignified. I think I deserve to be squished into a tutu and have tomatoes thrown at me. I also deserve. One chance two chance three chance four. I haven’t stepped into my one long stretch yet.
Francis, by the way, is hurting. Dreaming in half spaces. Nightmares during those even. I wish I could end the bleating of the dreams, I’d imagine ten times the fuzzy heavy pillowed effect that usually hits my back, sweat tingled. Broken into slices of time.
THat wheel that was on the price is right, that yodelling freak, Scared the shit out of me when I was a child. It always commenced and intersected my dream sequences, but in that black negative way that squeezed eyes shut allowed the viewer to be exposed to. My heartbeat, as well, was the timer. The more freaked out I got, the faster my heart spun.
I need someone to beat the shit out of me. Perhaps that would shock me into being more. Seeing less. Believing equal to the interest compounded by the integers of the possibilities.
I need to learn how to spin myself out into a quasi meditative state of mind. Where I don’t hear see spin believe think exist. The timing my breathing. If I didn’t have a dog and a roommate would I be acknowledged?
BLA BLA BLA. This is where self-serving antagonist lame ass literature goes to shit.
I rule.
I have nothing to complain about.
It is not me, it is them.
rock the fucking casbah, bitch.
