Your eyes are wide. They’re always wide.
“You know that feeling you get when you’re walking down stairs and there’s one more stair left than you thought? That rush?”
“Yeah, I hate that feeling.”
“That’s how I feel whenever I’m looking at you.”
“That’s awful.”
“I know.”
I’ll drink fire until my stomach is ash, just don’t ever look at me again.
We’ll run out of noises we can make before we come up with a name for the number of favors I owe you.
I haven’t written anything on paper in a long while.
Sure, notes and phone numbers, maybe, but nothing that carries any more weight than the paper it’s written on. To be quite honest, I doubt I’d ever write any fiction or lengthy piece of anything on paper again.
And I wonder how much that affects the things I put down. When I type, it’s a rat-tat-tat-ing of a machine gun that pumps out words in to the guts of a hard drive.
But when I write, it’s like a sword, cutting great swathes into emptiness, murdering life into a blank line or two. I would wade into battle, wielding nothing but my mighty pen-sword (Some may say, the mightiest weapon of them all.) cutting down line after line of the white void, and from it bleeds love, pain, fear, joy, cowardice, remorse and maybe a grocery list.
Still, I want to share my writing with at least a few people. So I bring my fingers down on fragments of ideas, crushing them into words into sentences into paragraphs into a story. I hope the weight of my fingers can lift you up, even just a little. But I’ll miss when I used to be able to read the things I sliced in ink on paper. Those were for me.
Cuts for me. Crushes for you.
Let’s just be reasonable for a second and assume there’s a tiny goblin behind my eyes and whenever he see’s I’m looking at a girl’s face, he yanks eyes so they look downward.
This seems unreasonable at first (besides being a blatant lie; goblins aren’t that small.) but if we consider this as a solution to the social faux pas that is “checkin’ out titties”, we might see this as a relief on both sexes. Men will now feel less ashamed of their natural urges, resulting in a healthier, if slightly more rapey, adult. Women will find men more attractive if they manage to maintain eye contact for extended amounts of time, some men gaining a reputation as “goblin-tamers.”
I prefer a non-euclidian approach to women. Which is my clever way of saying “I prefer anal.”
Come on, guys, how am I the only one who’s excited to see the first ever real-life death star? That’s gotta be coming soon, right? I wanna satellite that can also just purge an entire planet. That’d look SO COOL.
We are floating in space. I am an Aries (born early-mid April), floating in space. My name is John, which is the beginning of GOD, meaning God’s Chosen, and I am floating floating floating in space space spa-…
A cab driver asked me if I was an aspiring artist, and I asked him what art was. We eventually decided that I was an artist. I performed. I made. I created. I built. I art’d.
I confessed my worry that I am self indulgent. He said never to think that. He said my craft was a noble one and I ought to remember the sweetness of the journey. I asked him what he wanted to be. He said a writer, a poet, a journalist, maybe even a screen-play writer. Then I asked him if he was human. He seemed skeptical of the question, but I insisted there was something otherworldly of him. Then he said,
“Well, one foot in, and one foot out.”
His name was John. Just like mine.
I’d like to say I’ve been too busy to write anything, and even closer to the truth would be to say I’ve been lazy, but I think the honest answer is I haven’t felt inspired to write anything lately. Ever since I got this job and stopped doing the ‘prov, (It’s been weeks, if not a month.) I’ve been on autopilot, just browsing Reddit and playing computer games. No exercise, except for the job, which is, admittedly, 8 hours of fast walking. Not hanging out with friends (of which I seem to have only a handful) as much as I’d like. Gaming with people I don’t even like that much.
‘TAIN’T WANT I WANT.
So, if you follow this, please note that I am not dead and will be pushing myself harder to get this blog active again. I can push for at least one entry a week, even if they’re stupid nonsense entries. We’re gonna have a bunch of fun, you and me. So much fun. Fun. FUN. FFFFFFUUUUN.
Go away.
I have this odd hope that we die soon before we become whatever comes next.
