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Gender: Male
Interests: Interactions that get the better of me.
Expertise: Observing and Listening.
Occupation: Artist
Industry: Computers (Software)
Message: message me
Member Since:
12/29/2000
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| Just as i boarded the train, a sudden rush or depression made itself comfortable in my thoughts. ( I never really got on a train, i was metaphorically speaking about a feeling, a train of thoughts) A few days ago, i thought i found that good train, that soul train, that one train that would ensure a track towards a better tomorrow. How life it is to be smacked right back on the ground the minute i find it.
And here i go again, contemplating life. Writing out of despair and trying to find myself in my words. I am truly lost. Twenty-three years old and pathetic. Its like in order to live that life you dreamed of as a child, you have to be dead on its path from an early age. Old men reminiscent of their youth harp on about their one regret in life - knowledge. I am slowly becoming their offspring, a fantastic reproduction of a reincarnated John. A John you never heard about because the only mark he left on this earth is his hair and teeth which was dismissed from their foundation the day his body decomposed. I am a John.
It's hard not to give up when five years ago you thought you had it made. One wrong turn leads to next, and to the next, until you've done a complete three sixty. Back at "what the fuck? where am i?" I'm going nowhere fast and i can feel the cynic in me come to life as these dreams dissipate into a dark corner in my mind. A place where i could remember them like a deceased loved one; cherish them for what they stood for and not for what they became. They'd be my children; that in honour of them i would spill out why they never came to be to the youth of the next generation in hopes that my failures would secure a driving spot on young talent. This is the extension of stale dreams.
*snap*snap*
I am now in a current state of mind. Whatever that means. Like a vietnam veteran, i get flashbacks of what could've been had i not strayed the course. Immediately followed are flashforwards of a future that is coming all too quick for me to get prepared. CHOO-CHOO. I can hear a train in the distance. The last time i was here, i thought they'd be more trains going my way and coming at regular intervals. I was wrong. I had realized this after i had gotten off. Those damn good trains, those soul trains, those trains that take you places are a rare thing. I can hear it though. It's been on its way five years and counting....but it's coming.....it's coming...................
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| Reality tells me that these jobs i should keep,
Collections is telling me they need my money
My heart is yelling, fuck this shit
Because my body is screaming for sleep.
And my mind, it tells me i'm an idiot,
For working myself to death,
Lethargic and apathetic
I just don't give a shit.
We're all gonna die,
Why kill yourself working at a place you hate?
hah! Pass me a drink, and another!!!
Lets live this to the fullest!!!!!
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Tuesday Morning: The buzzer goes off, i hit the shower, put on my work clothes, make myself lunch and as soon as i stepped outside, i strange feeling came to me and i thought: "fuck this shit, i'm going back to sleep" So that i did. Woke up at 12:30pm, got on the computer and fiddled around. I didn't even bother calling in work.
Wednesday Morning: The buzzer goes off, i turn it off and go back to sleep, i then wake up at 1pm. Another no call/no show.
Thursday Morning: My alarm isn't even set. I sleep in until 1pm again. Another No call, no show. And my work doesn't have my number. Later that night, the head shipper of the warehouse leaves a note on my front door which reads: "How about a call to let us know what is going on."
Friday Morning: I show up at the warehouse job, opening the recieving door with authority. A few of my fellow workers look at me in awe, as if they've seen a ghost. I go straight for the Boss' office, he's a bit stirred but tells me to take a seat. I did. And i was ready to get my first "you're fired!" but instead, he gave me a $0.50 raise!!! LOL. I'm ecstatic! Am i that good of a worker? Or am i underpaid for the job i do? Nevertheless, i'll be outta that joint before they know it!!! | | |
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Speaking abrupt above the drum and bass music, we listened to one another's tales of life in art, the art of life. My big city dreams and her new job, her new apartment, and her new found stability. My track differed from hers. She finally found what she wanted. And i? i'm still that kid who tries to walk a straight line on the railway tracks, my hands like a plane trying to balance on four inches of steel.
The red ceiling lamps illuminated the lounge a burnt sienna, i rustled through her life from the last time i saw her to now, trying to catch up, her past boyfriends, her lifestyle, her success, and then i compared them to myself. Because, me and her go way back. We were born on the exact same day, and the first time i found out about that, i questioned her intensively on the things she liked, the things she hated, and found out we were very much alike. For one thing our favourite colour is green, more interesting was our road in life. Every time we talk, its like we have the same thoughts, we're always in the same stage in life. i know her because i know me, not because i've known her. I know the insecurities that lie within, the indecisiveness. We are too much alike. But this time was different, she knew what she was doing in life.
We conversed until the packed louge dwindled in bodies, and then somewhere in our conversation a silence crept in, and i stared at her, and she stared back, and then we both laughed. She asked me what i was thinking. I said nothing, and chuckled and wondered if she was thinking what i was thinking, but i'm a dirty boy. Finally, we headed out of the lounge, and she murmured an insecure "if you wanna walk me home." It was late, my last bus home had ended an hour earlier, and i did want to walk her home and check out her new apartment, and maybe stay the night. So off to her house we went, strolling in the cold night of October, the moon behind us casting shadows before us, we laughed and talked in our drunken state and followed our shadows to her place. And when i got there, i saw her paintings, saw the kind of books she read, felt the design of her place, and thought dirty thoughts, said my goodbye gave her a hug and left.
I ran to the train station and caught the last train, but my bus had concluded its daily schedule so i ended up sleeping at the train station comparing the hard tiled ground to a comfortable bed, like imagine if i slept in her bed? But me staying the night would be like using black in a painting.
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| On the eve of my birthday, my subway boss calls me in to work. If i wasn't such a whore the money, i'd have declined. But i am. Besides, working with that 17 year old Ronnie kid is like a stroll in the park, he's a fast worker and i'm a rookie. But i'm also 23, and i could buy booze. So, i did.
Once i got into the backroom of the restaurant, i cracked open my can of kokanee, chugged it down like a celebration, ordered some chow mein noodles for a long life and then we drank some more. This was my 23rd birthday.
I have nothing to talk about, nothing to laugh about, my life is hitting its boring point.
Analysis 23. -- "...i'm 23 today, and dont' look an age older than 16. Am i supposed to feel glad that i can still hit on high school girls if i wanted to? ...damn, i can't believe it..i'm 23, a twenty-three year old failure, and 5 years ago i could've told you that by this time i'd be working my dream job, making a career for myself, and quite possibly dating seriously, that i'd have been looking for the one...nothing is what it seems to be, catching a dream is like catching water. heh. 23 and working with 17 year olds who tell me how to bake bread and cash out. Pathetic! 23 and also working as hard as the lifers at that plumbing warehouse. Its ridiculous. i'm ridiculous. I hate this shit, i hate my life. I'm more than this....."
Yet, if you asked any old bitter 40 year old about their life, they'd tell you the same, "...i remember when i was your age, i thought the world would be in my hands. Now look at me! LOOK AT ME!!!!..."
All of a sudden Francis Bacon just popped into my head...and now comes the rest of the cargo, a train of thoughts, Albert Camus and his up the mountain, down the mountain, existentialism and other bull shit. Is that the reason? It feels like every minute is a year, by the time this hour is up, i'll be 60. | | |
| If i could escape, i would. Instead, i'll drag on the hours the way a smoker puffs on his cigarette, inhaling every destructing toxin, i'll suffer the consequences of 3 hrs of sleep just so i could listen to melancholic music, bop my head to my dreams and despair. And in the morning, after the lashing, i'll dread the day, scream to escape this life i'm living. That i'm better than this. In this pain stirs my desire to dig a hole that would go through the walls and beyond the barbed wire. | | |
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