in limbo

What do you do when you hear the morning birds at 2 AM in the wee hours of a shitty Saturday? I might be slightly intoxicated right now, but I am fully aware of the time and these birds are not due for another four hours. I should be living in a hotel room, estranged from my family, sleeping around, charming everyone around me, getting into trouble with the law, drinking and smoking all the fucking time. Oh, I'm just pulling a Hank Moody, except that Hank is purely fictional, a dreamer's reality. I am well, somewhat in between. A more altered Hank Moody if you must, apart from all the wit and the insanely attractive attitude and the pot of course. His pot, I mean, is far better in quantity and quality. Hank Moody aside, the question that's been bothering me; why do we put ourselves through so much pain and anxiety when we actually, don't have to? What makes us all want to experience this tremendous amount of emotion? Regardless of how many times I have put myself through it, I still have yet to find out the point in overwhelming emotion. I have mentally brainstormed and pointed out, to myself, almost all the times when I have fallen and the times when I have been riding high. I've never really let myself fall into the middle which I think everyone should, at some point. I fear that I won't be able to because I need to know the highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows of everything and anything. I need to feel like shit on some days and feel like God on others. It may sound like a disorder but we all know it's a natural phenomenon. It's how much control you have over yourself, really.


Now playing: Love - The Good Humor Man He Sees Everything Like This
via FoxyTunes

the jimi hendrix experience: under the influence of

I sit back in my couch every night and listen to the music that plays in my iTunes, making sure to carefully dissect each song into words that string into sentences. Making sense of the double, deep and deeper meanings. What if we managed to reference each line of each verse or the chorus to our pathetic lives? How much more interesting would that make life, maybe. But what if we all took a step back and listened to what each song had to say? I'm not talking about the trashy girl power; we-girls-can-wake-up-from-a-break-up bullshit, or the alter ego fuckery or even the soulless crap that claim themselves to be hump worthy to on a floor trying to pass off as a dance floor. I'm talking about the stuff that makes you go weak in the knees, tingles your pores, gets you wet, I'm talking about the shit that makes you go hard. These songs have to make you go orgasmic because only then will you bother to read between the lines, only then will you be close to crying when you hear that solo, only then will you understand what it takes to write a damn good song, only then will you realize, that the dreamers will always be the dreamers that never fail to keep on dreaming regardless and the realists will always be the realists that try so, so hard, and ever so often fail, to keep it real. Maybe I'm the dreamer. The dreamer who can only dream of people realizing and understanding my thoughts which are more often than not, carefully constructed while completely under the influence. I deserve twenty grams more and a pat on the back.


Now playing: The Jimi Hendrix Experience - The Wind Cries Mary
via FoxyTunes

seeing double

Two dogs walking the same path with nowhere in mind to go to. The path is long, the winds are strong, the heat intense, the ground is burning. With nowhere to sleep, nowhere to run to, nothing to do. What's the fun in dragging someone with you to nowhere then?


Now playing: The Beatles - I'm Only Sleeping
via FoxyTunes

Herman Melville

All deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea, while the wildest winds of heaven and earth conspire to cast her on the treacherous, slavish shore.


Now playing: The Stranglers - Golden Brown
via FoxyTunes