Friday, March 2, 2012

message of love

it is late.
i cannot sleep.
i have to get rid of what is in my head.
pretty sure based on my stats these days that i am the only person reading this. so balls out on my writing this evening. fucking total brain dump. just to try to move to sleep.
i really want the anxiety and over stimulation to go play quietly in the corner for a while.
brain explosion is in progress. forgive the following mess while we remodel.

there are only so many times you can check facebook to see what other insomniacs and 3rd shifters are up to:
trolling looking at who has checked in a what bar.  
trying to remember how to breathe deep and evenly.
songs posted. 
then the inevitable drunk posts that start at about this time.
then i don't sleep and i get up with the alarm and back to facebook to see the posts of all the hungover people dreading work, wanting coffee.  yah. i probably knew you were hungover when i served you that morning.

trying to reach into my brain to grab it, bring it back to sanity. bring it back to thinking clearly. not over analyzing every move and then playing fucking mental chess with it, till finally i come to check mate.
the ultimate check mate. check mate check mate check mate check mate. check mate. mate check ,etam kcehc, eckhctame, tame check, lame check, lame chick....lame sauce, enough sauce for a fruitcake.

haha joke on me.  stone's just came on.

So help me, please doctor, I'm damaged 
You can put back my heart in it's hole 
Oh mama, I'm cryin' 
Tears of relief 
And my pulse is now under control

still awake. eyelid not dipping. have incredible urge to go running. running like when you were a kid. running and racing. racing another kid to the end of the block. not caring that it hurts when you breathe. or even better a night swim. what i would give to swim the laps i love to swim. swimming with my head dipping in and out of the water. cool, clearing. counting. counting how many time i touch one wall then the other. how many kicks it takes me to get from one side of the pool to the other. counting my breathing. counting my head rotations. counting. forcing my brain into another state. I can almost, if i am still enough, feel swimming in the ocean. sinking under the crashing wave. the bitter cold that leaves so quickly yet making me feel as if i can conquer anything. i can endure the cold water and turn it to warm. i am a god. so warm i don't want to leave it. the salty water. spitting it out. the sand. how it feels on your feet when the water retreats back to its domain taking a little with it. leaning into the coming wave. swimming out deeper and deeper. enough to trigger some fear. some thought, have i gone to far? perhaps i have gone farther out than what i can get back? then i body surf the waves back in. slowly, dipping under a wave every once in a while. then fighting to stay back out in the water, because it is now warmer than the ambient air. 

i could hardly walk and i had the shakes
had to eat some fruit or i was gonna to faint.
-the guilt by the rakes.

this is a true story.

the swing i named charlie. i miss that swing. it was the best. it lived on the opposite side of the tree where the hammock lived. all the dreams i had in that swing and hammock. they were so real. i knew in that hammock how i would get to london. i can still smell getting off the plane for the first time at heathrow airport. i had the same excitement and anxiety i have now, but no pending trip to europe. strange. i came from california, but ate my first mango in london. i think i want to always remember that. it is still the sweetest fruit i have ever had. seeing the rosetta stone for the first time. the first time i ever went to the paris opera house and seeing the chagall painted ceiling, the smell of the catacombs in paris. how absolutely cool the air was for such a warm day in paris. eating chocolate in switzerland. sadness. the necklace i bought there that trip was stolen. 

i can not get away from the dreaming the fantasies the planning the worrying. it won't let me sleep. i  want to stop. just for a little bit. let my eyes and brain stop. let my subconscious take over for a while. but i don't want my dreams hijacked. i am not saying what i am dreaming of currently. i dare not. not now not ever to anybody. i will know to my grave and doesn't need to be written here. it is always the same in some regards. just different players in my theatre of the brain. at least i don't dream of violence. simply love. dream of love. dream of love again and again and again and again and again and again. from every angle. good and bad. how it is possible for me to be hurt so badly yet i still try? Some of us are looking at the stars...

Now the reason we're here
As man and woman
Is to love each other
Take care of each other
When love walks in the room
Everybody stand up
Oh it's good, good, good
Like brigitte bardot
Now look at the people
In the streets, in the bars
We are all of us in the gutter
But some of us are looking at the stars
Look round the room
Life is unkind
We fall but we keep gettin' up
Over and over and over and over and over and over
Me and you, every night, every day
We'll be together always this way
Your eyes are blue like the heavens above
Talk to me darlin' with a message of love
Now the reason we're here
Every man, every woman
Is to help each other
Stand by each other
When love walks in the room
Everybody stand up
Oh it's good, good good
Say I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you
Talk to me darlin'

yah...this came onto the ipod too. i am royally FUCKED.

i must sound insane. maybe just inane. i think i am a little. but not enough to cause anybody any fuss. only myself.  i am tired. sleep has just been awful of late. so over stimulated and not enough down time.  i think this is part of me putting time in on the front end.

end brain dump. error. error. do you want to quit? retry. retry. shutdown...and now radiohead's subterranean homesick alien just came on. great. do you want to send and error report? why yes. yes. i would thank you.

it is a good ipod mix, i must admit.

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