mean reds, nice blues

Category: diary

dueling stars

when someone becomes verbally or physically violent towards or in front of me, i imagine them this small —->   .    <—-, and it becomes quite the humorous show for a moment. i find aggression, hate, and acts or anger in a human a complete loss of power… and instantly see them transform into a teeny tiny insignificant being, powerless, and weak. sometimes i laugh at first, not to be malicious, but because i don’t understand living any other way than with peace and freedom. you cannot fight life’s circumstances, or irrationality… you just have to be. when you release yourself of all bounds, ignorance, stress, anger, and insecurities… you become so free… that when you’re upset- it doesn’t consume you. you feel it, but it’s more of an occasional itch than a rash that constantly needs scratching for temporary liberation.

circumstances aside- beau raised his voice the loudest and most aggressive it has ever been (we have never yelled at one another for the year and a half we’ve been together) ” i’m fucking serious, i’m so fucking pissed off right now you better GIVE me that fucking word right now!” seeing indifference in my eyes, he began again with the same stride, with more aggression and slammed our glass door so hard it vibrated the room, my ear drums, and came close to a shatter. not only did i carry the look of indifference, but i truly felt it.. i felt as though nothing had happened, and continued about. he came in again after locking himself in… repeated his last act with a bit more vigor… and i remained as i was.

after trying to get into our room and finding it locked, the only place i could decently walk to barefoot was our front yard. i spent the better half of the evening and spent the evening with the stars, watching them flicker… finding the brightest one. singing some old tunes softly into the evening, and making up stories using the stars as my characters. beau came in and out of outside, more calm than before but still in his manic state. it was on and off like that the entire evening. eventually we spoke about it, but i didn’t want to be near him. we spent the night in the same bed, on opposite sides i cannot help but feel as though i slept with a stranger last night. in the morning i could feel his remorse… he’s been telling me how much he loves me all day. it means nothing when someone showers you with so much attention via the ride of guilt. i can feel he is afraid. maybe our planned trip to joshua tree this weekend will bring him at peace with himself and let go of whatever weights are wearing him.

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70s threads and roller rinks

my mechanism since i was young, with my mother leaving the country never to return again, has given me unmatched strength, and the ability to become accustomed to whatever change may pass my way. i’ve grown up learning not to live today in yesterday, and to be ready for whatever  ups and downs pave my path. with that strength comes the fault and advantage of taking the most sizable of events and living as if i’d merely hit a speed bump.

my beau arrived home last evening from what has seemingly been like endless travel. in bed, we truly realized this time we’re going through is not simple, and it in fact is a big deal. through all this travel we speak constantly; skype, phone, post cards, e-mail. it makes us feel closer, but no matter how much third party communication the days bring us, the truth of the matter is nothing matches human connection. he’s become afraid his work travel may cause him to loose the love of his life. in that moment, with his hand cupped inside my palms, i assured him the only thing that could cause us to physically part would be death. a romeo + juliet reference was mentioned. he’s my other half, and together we’re a whole… that is something no distance can interrupt.

i wanted to spend this weekend away with my love in joshua tree, and surround ourselves in beauty, peace, good vibrations, and love. we nearly packed up and made the drive, though another travel on the road after a full days worth of flying would’ve just knocked down his body.

we instead went to a roller rink. i have not worn a pair of skates in over 10 years. for the first twenty minutes, i was sure i’d make love to the roller way floor… with my face. not this time. fully adorned in the best of 1970s threads… we rolled, we did the hokey pokey, and we had a gas.

the ________ tapes

i quite fancy listening to old taped recordings like the john lennon tapes, bob dylan’s, andy warhol’s… and so on. there’s something rather intimate in the act of hearing rather than watching someone speak (specifically if they’re before your time, or dead), you really become immersed in the conversation and have that voice, or those voices in chatter reverberate through your consciousness… as though you’re a fly on the wall, or sitting in on the conversation.

i bought myself a voice recorder online today for an new on-going project of mine. for awhile i’ve been really keen on buying an old micro tape recorder… like the one i used with my father when i was a child recording our daft character voices. there is an intimate, romantic, and craftsman act when you’re touching something with your own hands, such as putting each tape into the recorder, rewinding, and flipping each side. however, practicality has taken the wheel in this decision, and led me the digital route. in this project, i intend to sit in on conversations past, and memories past from different people, in different social statures, in different levels of consciousness. the rest will follow organically, with each story.

the human condition

unabridged candidness with myself has given rise to enjoying solitude more now, than ever. i’ve always fancied being alone… i find my thoughts are uncontaminated that way, and i think the way i am meant to. there’s no right or wrong, nor strange or normal… just me and my thoughts.   as a society, i believe we’ve come to fear loneliness for it’s negative connotation- loneliness in love, loneliness in friends, loneliness in _____. it’s all bullshit, we’re so weary of time and the way we relish or pass it. people cannot achieve true happiness without true happiness from within- knowing yourself inside and out, and living life in an intrepid way never hindering who that true self is.

it’s curious to look back at myself last year, 5 years ago, 3 months ago, or at times even yesterday… remembering exactly who i was at certain periods in life; it’s fascinating. there’ a little bit of me in all those characters… it’s growth, and it’s happening right now. growth occurs  most freely when, you release the fear of not wanting to “change” (grow) who you are because you’re comfortable. that comfort is fear, fear to change, fear to reflect, fear to be yourself, fear of zealous self exploration. often times when i am around others, i find it so difficult to work on anything personal… or have the thoughts that i do when i am alone. it’s as if there is a shield there when others are around, more so when they are people not close to me (and that pack is small)- a defense mechanism of my personal growth process.

rock-a-bye precipitation

today, beau and i spent the better half of our afternoon nestled under covers by our open window on our bed watching the rain pour, the trees sway, and le puss in amusement by it all. juliette greco crooned in the background, and a lit candle flame swayed to the rhythm of the outside calling. we claimed it to be the best cuddle ever… our time restriction being it’s one fault. beau was to fly to london that afternoon.

since parting with him, i’ve been at home continuing my love affair with nature’s dreary tone, enjoying the sights and sounds- intellectually and spiritually cavorting about with day dreaming, reading, reminiscing, and skimming though photographs and clipped reels of  1960s underground cinema. an impromptu craving to chronicle the thoughts and fancies that make their cameos through my mind daily has birthed.

i was supposed to visit my father after taking beau to lax (which i did not, he took a cab because my post-accident anxiety wasn’t ready for a slippery ride in the rain). my father wanted to take me to dinner… some noodles in downtown. we had to cancel… though i hope to reschedule tomorrow or soon. he said he was sick anyhow. i do miss him. call it the rain, but i’ve had quite the rush of the mean reds today. maybe it has to do with a nightmare i had about him last night. i dreamt he had a risky cholesterol problem, and was suffering delusions of grandeur. which is absolutely far from the case. i believe these sentiments, and fantasies are subconscious un-merrited guilt. i endure this for some reason. it’s bizarre. it’s not for anything i’ve done (at least not maliciously), it is guilt for what he may suffer because of his own sentiments on the way our lives have panned out. however fabricated and daft those sentiments may be…