Date Night
1/2/23
I walk around like no one has ever made love…
I go out my door like there is a big, pure happening in the park, on the corner, standing outside every store. Like there is nothing really wrong except for whatever I might see as wrong. I go to the skating rink. I don’t ice skate but stare at the buildings on the opposite side of the street.
Little people go to a bench and change from shoes to skates and skates to shoes. I send all the young people psychic ‘(A)s.’ I didn’t like the way I was, like I had some say in the whole sha bang. Did you know, the last judgment is your own? And I’m not going to be belittled and cursed. Alas, I don’t even let myself know what I think sometimes – not that my life’s all thought – but I notice the [Bay State Saving’s Bank] sign, not what brands people are wearing. I notice the temperature, that no one put away the Christmas decorations, the host on the microphone for the skating rink said it was the last day to “smoke and drink whatever you want.” I thought that was a little out of place for a family event. I went to the store. I smiled too much. I have a working understanding of humor that stopped causing laughter years ago, so I grin by myself at random.
Thus, I have spent years confronting the sense that people think I’m mad because no one understands my humor and that makes me feel blue.
Descartes was born in 1596.
The Bretton Woods Accord made the US dollar the international standard in 1944.
I’ve stored too much hate in myself because I don’t talk like the people I look at and I don’t think they use English well.
Not anymore though.
I don’t want anything.
Riches, Fame, Pleasure. Those do not belong to me, not even the vague sensations of tangible wealth. I’ve made myself blue about that stuff…So what I have got to say is, as a writer, I exist on words and the chance they might make a smile or a sparkle on the knit of a little winter hat when put in the right order, but I leave my house and enter the big, pure thing. In order for it to stay pure, I sit alone, I stare at birds, I overhear conversations and laughs about things being “Ol’” and think everyone is talking about God. In a way they are if God is the one substance like Spinoza describes in his Ethics (1677). All we are ever trying to do is assert this has eternal involvement and we don’t need to worry about death – but there’s a game not to break our brains that we’d get better at if people read the books I read but they can’t because I’m me and they are them.
Descartes is rather straightforward.
If we knew so much about the world, the world would go black. Not to mention, we shouldn’t profess if we haven’t really experienced.
So, I’m eating better. I douse the rice and broccoli with cumin and turmeric and the rice turns yellow and I imagine someone asking about this yellow rice only for me to reply, “It’s turmeric that made the rice yellow.”
I’ve even given up coffee for two days.
So, when do the happy experiences start?
The majority of my experiences are not shared experiences. They are me alone, being happy, but I watch out for the children’s enviorn’mint, and that is how you get to be alone, minding them all, cause the rest of the adults care for the children too and just want to know you are that sensible. Aside from that, I thought I was going to push literacy, but I see that people read online news.
I have been unsatisfied, and that is unfair to God.
So, I don’t want to be that either. I don’t want to finish anything, or be anything, or make anything. The shame is that I’ve not written that thing yet…But I’ll get rid of the shame first and keep on writing and eating well. My communication skills are coming along now that I’ve finished the novel after three years. I went outside today and put a copy of the novel tied to a painting I made next to a stop-sign. I posted the picture of what I did on the Internet.
The Internet has sickened me before, like Greed, Envy, and Jealousy.
I have to remind myself that life in full cannot be represented by anything in life.
I think the Devil is a real entity, for it is the concentration of all vices, using the people who they control and convincing them they are on top of the world already and there’s no need to change or give to the needy, forgetting the power in resistance. It’s always been the story. I also don’t think the Devil is a feminine entity despite the portrayals in popular culture. It’s important to shout it out so that it comes out of people’s skins and breaks the patterns around us of gas consumption and common adultery.
I remain inside, but I’m starting to come outside and speak for paragraphs, dialogues of up to eight lines most of the time by cash registers.
I’m going to smile more and love more and look out for the kids. I won’t even see the fools. I don’t want to finish the writing. I don’t want an award or a picture of my face. My ego could not create the world. As is seen in my paintings, neither my eyes, nor dexterity can recreate life as it is. Rather, my writing is in the world. Though I’m in it and there is no getting out of it, so I can take eons to make sure I’m comfortable – snug as a bug in the rug.
The overthinking starts to act up, and I judge, but I am not Madness. I am not a portrayal. I am not other people’s sins and lives and odd self-serving ideas of Integrity that I can’t explain. Can I see something positive? Can I not judge me? Well, I love you…whoever you are. I’m not even talking to myself either. I allow you to be someone else.
That’s what I think writing as an art is largely about. Carving a whole spiritual pool, cavern, duplex, or hideout in one person and then handing over the properties to another. That is a good deed, ha. Here’s all I have. You can have it. That way, infinities intertwine, and we can live with spirits far grander than the world as it seems when we despair, for it will produce more people who have that blue morning in the coffee shop feeling I’ve wandered to and from around the globe.
I read earlier that the Earth is going through its sixth mass extinction. The animals are losing places to live in the wild. The rabbits are squeaking into one another’s eyes in the brush, saying, “We must keep moving,” like in Watership Down published in 1972, which is a great novel, one of my favorites, but actual frogs are losing places to croak in the water, and it’s all terribly sad, so what could I obtain?
Hmm.
I’ve noticed the unseasonably warm temperature and I don’t like it at all. Some molten lava creatures are going to have a whole new slew of perceptions next, after we’re long gone.
Do I have hope? Why, I do have Hope…
I once thought the person who could say or think the most negative thoughts was actually responsible for not letting those things come to be – by fighting off the worst in the lobe of the preposterous, but this is not even what pessimism is, and I’ve thought badly enough.
I’m going to be happy now.
I’ll slow down when I’m eating. I’ll let myself keep watching a show if I like it. I’ve spent many many hours watching shows on my computer screen, and in that sense I’m a hypocrite…but at least I don’t think the shows are good representations of organic reality, and I know I’m just watching cause it is a calming pastime. I don’t know who – I’m so rough on me. The irony of ‘them’ being wrong is it is never tangible who ‘they’ are because the culprits of our largest flaws are groups of people who, when you take them apart, could never be capable of anything so terrible because they are unaware of what they are part of, not like that odd one in the park who is just staring at the sides of banks and translating God between the street folk and the middle class, who are just watching the young ones but at the same time driving around seven cars that hurt the layer of sky keeping us from the sun’s blazing.
A girlfriend told me it’s not the car’s fault. She studied how it isn’t and did a project. I still think it is because of indirect effects like the asphalt replacing pastures.
It doesn’t matter who is right about something so important.
We are the infinite void in the infinite void.
Humor? Well, I do have some. For instance, when I did go to the store, I realized many of us are wearing these winter hats on our head, puffy hats, half-on our heads while women wear nice, white, winter coats, too. The hats are kind of silly, but warm, like the Charmin toilet paper bears.
What’s funny is the hats.
I bought toilet paper rolls and a pack of Rolos. I had been craving Rolos for two nights. My selection of that candy is how I know things are changing. I never get Rolos. I smiled to like thirteen people on my walk as well. I unfollowed an ex-girlfriend who is happily dating. I’m happy for her, and she does not need me watching her life in photos. I’m in my life, making my way too. And I want to be in love. I’m a decent cook. I’m not a bad cook at least. The only thing I did today that was unpleasant was feel aggravation toward the couple at the gym who was just sitting there talking about whatever behind a machine and not exercising at all, and I also did not like the guy who was behind me from the convenience store to the apartment while talking on his phone because it was all a patient gossip, the type where the two people are able to forget themselves by chewing a person up, passing the evaluation back and forth like they’re looking from behind a double mirror on a subject they understand. I don’t like to be around that. I write it out here and use no one’s names and equate most of the qualms to me being a sort of exacting, critical thinker, a researcher during end-times it seems.
That would allow me to give up, wouldn’t it?
But nowadays I realize I’m someone who would be cool during a catastrophic event. If a friend who has already gotten sick of my particular interests so that we don’t often talk were to call, I’d stay bored. I’d go on about the French Revolution.
I can’t imagine some people able to think about whole periods of time like ours now if they don’t have an interest in history.
I could make an appeal to a woman about me now, but I know that we are all different at our core, so I won’t make no one so narrow. I’m focused on the art buzz, but I’m learning to help it make me a better person; we all need creative outlets. I like the ones of my neighbors which is just life; life being what is made. When we’re alone in a room, we all have pasts, families, livers, favorite colors, movies, books, convictions, opinions, and when I meet a woman someday who wants to hang out with me in our private kid-friendly dojo, well, that will be swell, but things will happen on their dates. It is just me and my books for now learning to laugh again.
I don’t want Lust, so I must want something else. I don’t want Rage, nor Hopelessness. I’m going to put on my winter hat, drink water, read, walk around, formulate an argument, then drink more water. In between, I’ll take off the hat, put it aside me, type words. I’ll put my novel places and eat vegetables for dinner this year. I’m not a provider right now, and I’m in the process of learning how to interact without thinking it’s so important. So, this is me breaking up with you, and it feels good because you never asked to date; it’s cold in here, and I’ve got private work to do.
from 2023