fieldsofilium

I can't help but feel guilty, but for the time being I feel that time spent alone is where I want to be right now.

We'll see what happens.
 

Remember that time I went around Florida with a bunch of my friends that played shows and the words DICK, DUDE, COCK, FUCK, PUSSY, WEINER, BRO, LITTLE, COUGAR, GUY, BONER, FACKING, MATE, WEED, BEER, BRUTAL, and SAFETY were uttered more times than I've ever heard in my life compounded three or four times over... and how no one really fought with each other and everybody had the best of times?

I'm never going to forget that week.

Debauchery at it's finest, it was. I'll have stories for a while.
It was nice to cut loose. And no one really cared about their own safety... which made it that much more fun.

*I jumped off a building while high and drunk. (I was trying to scare Nico). Turns out I just banged my knee and ended up just weirding Nico out.
*I was assaulted by the spittle of a homeless man who not 15 minutes prior to the assault got done explaining how he might have HIV or Hep C... It landed on my shirt. So Phil and Jeff cut it off my body. Everything was OK!
*I saw the Yeungling factory. Everybody had boners at the same time.
*I drank entirely way too much beer almost every night.
*Demise of All Reason had a gasmask... and we smoked marijuana out of it.
*Illegal roof access+weed+beer+beer+fireworks+security cameras= awesome.
(Somehow we managed to do 90% of all our illegal activities in the most choice places for those cameras to see us. Seriously... direct view every time)
*Befriended Jeff, Mike, Phil (I've known Phil since Prying Eyes... but we never really hung out), Max, and Jon of Demise.
*Got even tighter with Dan, Andrew, Nico, Mike, and the two Justins. Which I didn't think was possible unless we took the next step and made love to each other. But we did spoon... a lot.
*Every show got better than the last. 
*Some of the funniest things i have ever heard were said that week.  Sometimes I made myself laugh really hard like.
*Absurd haircuts are a result of 14 or so young men drinking beer in a room together. I know that now.
*NEVER EVER EVER drive a car while playing a game of quarters using a gatorade bottle on a slanted dashboard with Fatal playing through your system. I don't care if it's your own neighborhood... you will get lost.

Best quotes of the week:
(Dan, whilst in the parking lot of a venue, doing his one foot jiggle dance.) 
Dan: Demise has huge dicks! Big Ol' HURTIN' WEINERS!

(Jeff puts an asscheek on Dan's window as he drives off, while I stand and watch everything happen... not moving)
Jeff: I just put my asscheek on his window. *Jeff laugh*

(The morning after too many beers and those absurd haircuts manifested, the first thing I hear)
Nico: Oh yeah... I got a mohawk....

Andrew: Man, i hope there's a bouncer there that looks like Patrick Swayze... so I can get some pussy.
Andrew: Hey, Patrick Swayze... let me get that pussy!



I will never forget that week.

Blueberry buttermilk waffles: what I, as I am now, would do for you... 
Someone had some breakfast in the library. Fuck those guys.

Adventure seems to rest upon the horizon. I am in no hurry; my vessel does not hurry me, nor do I spur it to go faster. I do not curse at the winds when they fail. After all, I've still got the ocean. 
It is true for most that to find land is to find peace, and men often cling to the shores because they know what privations await them at sea.
But I... I find comfort in these uneven waters. I run my fingers through the surface as my ship pushes to the north.

The ocean is life.

We glide across the exterior in a linear progression, without much thought of how these basins were filled with the seas in the first place. Experience is the rain, and every drop is an addition. We sail across the sum of it all. But, to think and feel what it is, one must fasten the snorkle and jump in.

I live too intimately at times. To some this may sound near blasphemous, but it is the way I feel. I feel I overcomplicate things with analysis, depth, and concern. I live too seriously at times. That is not to say there isn't a noble purpose to be found among those who live as romantics- I, myself, have found a home here. But, balance is ideal. And where I can say, "Fuck it, I'm just going to live to laugh today", I will.

Adventure does not stand alone in the horizon. I take note of those luminous stars and see them as the promises of a certain destination. And, someday, I will dock on an island, and you- you will be there. You won't be waiting for me, though. You'll just be reading under the shade- a book I had given you on a rendevous, some days past. I'll just watch for a bit. You'll look over, and my eyes will close. 

You know I was just watching you... just watching.

There's that swelling feeling again. The one that grows from your chest and becomes something so immense it begins to choke you. It's enough to kill, and love does a good job of illuminating mortality. 
And I'll push off land, with or without you, but always knowing we'll meet again. One day, you'll hop in that boat with me. The rest can be history. They'll speak of our names for years to come.

Let's laugh.
Let's be young.
Because it won't always be this way.
Let's pick up a hobby. 
Let's pick up those memories that have fallen out of the basket and place them back in. Let's keep room for the ones that have yet to happen and yet to be remembered. Let's cherish these, because when hard waves converge, I'll just shut my eyes and remember what color the sky was that day, and how your lips felt against mine.

The past few weeks have revealed certainties to me that I would have otherwise overlooked:

a) I'm going to have dementia when i get older. There's no way of getting around it. I'm sure it won't be severe at all- moderate at best. Perhaps just enough to keep things interesting in my old age.

b) I'm more productive when i refrain from going out for social gatherings.

c) I fucking hate mathematics. I am fascinated by it in theory, but in practice... i mean what the fuck?!

d) I really want to make writing an active part of whatever career I finally choose. I've been writing ceaselessly. Maybe a Lit. Professor? Write and play music on the side?? who knows??? i want to start a publishing/editing company, too. I want a farm. I want guns.

e) Revolution is fucking real. I'm getting myself prepared without losing myself in the concept.

I am restless. I have to get all these ideas out.

I've got melodies and harmonies that I don't even know what to do with.

 I'm working on an epic poem. It documents the life of man from conception to death, and explores the righteousness in Classical thought, but shows that life itself reflects the Romantic perceptions. It is entirely based on the human condition and experience. Also, man's conception is not simply the procession of pregnancy, but his place in divinity and his fall from grace into our known purgatory. It will be very dark, and very long.

I'm also writing a couple of short stories, which I've offered to write for Vanessa. One will be a story of obsession and murder (not mystery), and catalogues a man's descent into the farthest reaches of perversity. The second must be lighter on the heart and mind, because i've been writing way too much depressing shit. At some point I'm going to write a children's book, as well.

I've read about 13 books in the last 2 weeks. I've forgotten how hungry I get for words sometimes.

Vanessa and I are exchanging books/book lists.

Vanessa is really fucking hot.

Me: "I'm about to piss all over you. Urine credible. Urine dispensable. Urine trospective. Urine the top spot of my heart. Urine love with me."

Vanessa: "That's it... urine for it."

I write a poem for her every day. Though, i rarely see her at all.
She's terrified of me. She has such strong feelings for me that she feels as though she has to push me away at times. That's fine. God knows I need my piece. Solitude has become salvation.

-"You've done more for me in four weeks than any other man has in my entire life. THAT'S SO FUCKING SCARY."

This strange affair of ours is the most refreshing and inspirational interaction with another human I've ever had. That is truth. We are a couple of fucking WEIRDOS. This is so good. I can't explain why. I haven't seen her in over a week. I haven't gone out with her in three. 

She procured a dagger (inside joke) for me on v-day, I gave her pastels and poetry. 

This life is we've made is abstract, but still holds that invisible order that governs all things.

I say I don't know why you've captivated me, but I know all too well. It's simply that these words cannot be spoken.

These words just do not exist.


FUCK MID-TERM WEEK!!!