imagine all the comical things

my room is all alive. an exotic jungle of cotton pads, scissors, sharpeners, scraps and empty glasses. well half full if you wanna look on the bright side. business is good for the case of ole idle hands. sitting around, hearing all the sounds of the world go by and still. grounded, pulled by the great force of the earth to the seat. gravity they say. an ever present omnipotent force.

a comical jungle. with stuffs upon stuffs everywhere. not a place to rest a drink. not a place to rest. piles upon piles of clothing and clothed goods. heaps upon heaps of old water warped books. please forgive the mess, i beg of myself. tonight i will work, tonight i will bend forward and pick up the slacks that have grown wrinkled under the heavy woollen sweater. i'm sorry to the silk blouse that has been enduring months of unyielding pressure from her cotton-blend cousins who mock her discreetly as she forms age lines around her arm holes. i'm sorry baby.

the cat is on parade

i don't know if they call it alter ego, or ergo at the altar (of impending doom). if one has a fatalistic perception of the world they become ousted, like arab dictators - hiding in a hole six feet under the ground. every thought ends with i don't kno, and well there is always a doubt, because the more i've learned the less i've known. the more i've experienced the more i've been able to understand others and the universe, the less i've known about anything. good, bad, ugly... i don't know.

i am compelled to burn the midnight oil and tap tap tap away at these keys that seem to expel ambient frustration, agitation, anticipation, and recitation. vagueness is my window, where i can see clearly. sorry guys, i just don't know. i love the blank page here because it reminds me that anything is possible. even a semi-sane rant on ranting.

the last two days have been tough on my soul. nothing the matter just too much matter on my mind. manifesting itself in my jabbering utterances, my tonal vibrations and my oceanic movements. i'm tired of making sense, i mean cents. i realised the pursuit of money is never ending and that i'm more stressed now that i have more of it. i don't have time to spend it. i have a heavy conscious and feel a need to protect it.

i'm aware of myself. maybe too aware to the point of discomfort. when you begin to doubt every step or move, your brain goes on overload and you begin to stumble on yourself like a bumbling brit. one step forward one step back, one step to the side and another back to the centre. to the point where i've been in paralysis. i've been reading on enlightenment. tasting it with words so savoury. gosh how they can articulate it so well. this i understand. this i understand. but then again. i don't know.

action speaks louder they say. ok ok. let's get some action business going on here. can i for once love what i have? a good and sincere question that i'd never had asked myself in such a publique forum. can you get it? you being me and me being you. get it? can i? like the bless'ed one says, self-consciousness is the resonance of the mind being aware of itself. the repetitive echo we hear in a self-contained cave chamber.

i keep asking google questions about my self. how do i find my self? how do i follow my heart? how do i know if i love someone? as though google can answer for me. as if google were me. but is it not? it's a good questions. and for that girl who attests to not knowing, of course google is me, it knows me, and doesn't know me all the same. it just googles me and knows all the time.

if i could make one true statement here, it is that this statement isn't true; my humour is contagious. latently like a stomach virus, you only get it days after exposure. but i'd like to say that a free train of thought should be available everyday for passengers at the train station. this train does not require having a ticket, only a pulse, according to those more morbid souls. this train of thought takes you downtown where it's pretty dirty and grim, but also around the country side where there are vast fields of green vegetation and fertile land with endless possibilities. it also makes a pit stop around the suburban communities some gated with teenaged security guards. the safety here is imaginary just like the pass codes. but here you will be greeted and comforted, and you will see children playing in the streets and signs telling you that children are playing in the streets and babies in cars and signs telling you there are babies in cars. a beautiful paradise for birds of paradise.

this train of course is free, we already mentioned that, but what is great about this train is that it takes you away and it lets you visit those who live close and far. and this train serves all the trimmings. potato chips and bottled water. the most any intrepid traveler needs. but here this train will also navigate you towards a realm of unknown, and well that is pretty interesting. it takes you away from familiar sights and sounds, bodily smells and desires. it's like a dark room where you immediately feel inside of you, and this room fills with light as you breath in the new delight of oxygen that is our shared cesspool of love.

yeah yeah. i said it. we are all love. so be it. maybe this i know deep, way way way deep down. if you look you will find it my dears. and with this cessation of thought i bring myself this. some sort of secret pact between friends. best friends. swearing to each other to uphold one end of the deal. and that end is this. tell me about your day. breathe it. and share it. hop on the train of thought and be free for a sliver of time. release yourself. surrender to the train!