Tuesday, November 29, 2005

   Life is so Fragile
Why should one waste ones life fretting over that which is not in your power to change? There are so many things going on in my life right now that are complete contradictions but make perfect sense. Such paradoxical senarios can lead back and forth bewteen perfect madness and utter calm. I found a nest egg of complete convival revelry, somehow. I let go the worries and relaxed myself into a near catatonic sedation. I love the world and am just simplly happy to be breathing through my own lungs. There are certain points in life when one must consider that being yourself is the best gift ever given to you. Being grateful and contented with that simple fact can be so hard sometimes, but taking some time out to see that stagnation cannot last forever is the most refreshing thing you can achieve. Life is liquid, moving at its own pace of its own accord. Winding through miles and miles before connecing to anything vast and knowledgeable, everything seems to lengthen before you reach the ocean that you seek. Ahhh, c'est la vie. Just loving those things and the time that seems to stop before racing off into oblivion is something valuable. Take it and love it like the most precious material item you own, because it will live so much longer than that. I am content and happy, for once in my life I have nothing to complain about, because it all falls together in the end if you look in the right places and do the right things.
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Thursday, October 6, 2005

   PTSD
Emotionally traumatic event, cant stop thinking about it. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder does crazy things to people. the previous posts (though backwards as they are) are proof of that.
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Tuesday, October 4, 2005

   III. Awakening under Unforeseen Circumstances and the Rebirth
After all that frustration and confusion there was little more to do than mend what was left. The grip of my transient guests loosened and I started to breathe as I once had. My dead heart began to beat steadily. Some part of me would not loose hope. After it seemed that all had been lost to me, I found the inhibition that saw I lay dormant in the sand release the key to my soul.
I found my way with sluggish limbs into the sun dappled recesses of the forest I thought had been burnt to the ground. I gained momentum and found my way to the dark heart that kept my forest alive. The closer I traveled the denser the smell of blood and undergrowth became. The weald became thick and a storm rose overhead. I was astonished at the beauty that had arisen from the flames that left the trunks scorched, making them shadowy and brittle on their outer layer, adding to the dark emerald hue surrounding me. It took moments to find, the rhythm of the forest synchronized with my own pulsing flesh had brought me a power I have long denied.
I see now my ominous flaws and know the error of my actions. I was pulled to the surface and only glimpsed the tree that beats with my heart and its charred exterior that was nearly recovered completely. I felt happiness despite my losses; I realized that those were of no importance. The reality was to continue without regret or chance regretting a part of yourself. The haze lifted completely as I came to see through my own thoughts again, my eyes more radiant than they had ever been before.
It’s true what they say “That which does not kill us in every facet of our being makes us more resilient than we were when assailed.” Mental soundness is so sweet. Especially in the wake of such destruction; you can look up at the stars again and hear them whisper to you all of those wishes and dreams that you confided to them and them alone. To feel that breeze that expands your very soul in its fervor, and love it all like a new born. A phoenix, if you will, that can always look out upon the world and see it as something fresh and wonderful. Shed away that form that saw defeat and decay, for one that knows better.
In all senses of reality I cannot be who I was before, I can only be who I am now. I found my own cure and needed the slightest push from and old friend to know that I had prevailed. Victorious as I feel I’ll not let my mortality get the best of me in that way ever again. To be human is to be flawed, take life as it comes and regret nothing that has shaped you to be who you are now.
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   II. Death of Wholeness and Regression to Sadness
Occasionally I would crawl from my hole for a moment to feel the pleasantry of air not as stagnant as that which remained beneath the rock with me. I could feel the sun, though my sight had long since turned black. All my senses save one were completely crushed and the disorientation this caused was devastating. Slowly this stopped altogether, the apprehension was too great and I had resorted to apathy.
I collapsed on the sand trying to crawl from my crevice, in a place where the sun and moon could not seek me out. That which I had loved about myself dissipated with the next morning mist. Insolvency had taken hold. I succumbed to the arid darkness of which I had become a faithful occupant. By means of impuissance I resided there. I recall how difficult it had been to sort through daily conversations. An overload of opinions and views that were once held as so valuable became the burden that lost me under this stress. I loved the fact that I kept all opinions and views of others as important, due to the fact that all ideals are believed despite who it is that believes it. Every opinion and conflict there of is important to a balance of imperfection that is so utterly human. This left me with naught but other’s opinions and left me without my own persona. That is how I’d fallen so easily to their malicious assault.
Then I had not even that notion. I had, in many ways, surrendered. Though breathing was what I was staunchly maintaining. Being alive seemed as though it still remained important. I had resigned to the blows that turned my seamless consciousness into a stronghold of Paranoia, Terror, Panic, Melancholy and Rage. I was too exhausted to move and too distraught to fight. One slow blink extinguished all feeling and all the days became one, I slipped into deceased hands. That is when I was truly abandoned and those who thought they knew me could know nothing. I was lost to life and all sorts of hopes and dreams went with it. I had one thing and that was the fading ictus sound of my own heart. I focused my thoughts there and fell soundly into blackness.
I had become subliminal, in essence, and I dreamt in cryptic pictures and emotional vibrations of a distorted surrealism. Incidentally there were moments of clarity and at times I felt control creep so near. That was only the electrical storm I could sense outside. The neurons trying to pull together the fuddled pieces of them, who constantly assailed each other, trying to make sense of the personality breaks that where so self evident. Trying to restore the broken fragments and I was the missing link. I too ruined to care that my body couldn’t truly live until I was restored and well. The disorder continued in this dream world and I supposed that those pictures and emotions were what connected me to my outer self.
I let myself drain completely and the sand I laid upon sucked from my body the happiness, hope, and love that barely clung to my awareness. I became a husk of my former self and there was little that my worn soul could do to change that. Now, face down in the sand I withered in my losses. My flaws had gotten the better of me. This is where it gets too chaotic to decipher. Can one understand that the multidimensional stratification of a being on a single plane of a physical realm is a form of hell so intense that the human mind cannot comprehend it unless it has endured it? I refuse to remember.
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   I. Ascent of the Fallen into the Grip of Silence
Impressions of sentiments left with snapshots from my memory, this is all I have to work with now. The intense echo of sanity long since faded carves the hollows out from beneath my eyes. Something less malleable than that caused such discord in its threadbare weft; the holes having been torn too reckless and erratically to have been anything of a visible physique. So wasteful are these inane escapisms as I’ve seen and known. Can one discern the impact of this neglect before the silence becomes ruin?
The first defeat I received left me alienated enough to not realize the damage it had left behind. The residual wound that I now know was composed of a webbing of pressure fissures that separated my conscious thought into several different sectors. Though barely detectible they did not interrupt my daily thought pattern in a way that concerned me greatly. My inner health already waning from the stresses that caused this fracturing, my mind was set on rehabilitation. Though the notion seemed appropriate for the situation, my attempts were impugned by my surroundings. Situational imbalance deemed itself a worthy adversary in every aspect. Guilt had worn me thin and abraded the cracks in consciousness that I had no time to see. It accounted for much of the breaking that occurred in the coming days. Since I was previously benumbed past the point of recklessness anyhow, it is both no wonder it happened and a wonder how it did not happen faster.
I was incapacitated by the imbalance that pursued me in those final days before the Shattering. I was taken aback by the lingering adversity in the recollection of the first true feelings of destitution that I had ever encountered on such a degree as this. It succeeded in wearing me down on the inside. It took the life-force meant for healing and averted it to the guilt that I felt when I thought on my failure. I tried so hard to untangle the situation to better comprehend it, all I received for it was a terrified feeling of foreboding. I was hardly a victim; more was I a self afflicted prisoner of time brought slowly in its vassalage. I was restlessly surrendering to incoherence, without the least knowledge of its occurrence.
I began to lose sight of everything because the brilliant, vivid colors of memory so clouded my vision. Thence, as it were, the ideal battlefield was laid for my self destruction. A weak state that had great potential to only become worse gave the cue for the blitz krieg that voided me temporarily out of existence. The onslaught began and I had commenced in killing myself from the inside out.
My lack of consistency left me shaken and the meticulous web of pressure fractures that I had already sustained bore me no footing in the battle. My eyes were opened wide and yet I could not see through these colors surrounding me. This veritable rainbow of blurred color was the first of my snapshots and the only one with a chronology, though the others lack none of its vitality. This was how they saw and the only time they looked together, without distortion, they were still me and that’s what I saw.
They came at me spasmodically at first, biting the frightened hand of their master who could not see them. Yet, I was aware of their presence and the harm they inflicted was barely felt due to the callousness I’d acquired for such pains. They weaned me from reality and cast me out on their own accord, which was few and far between. I was exiled to a landscape of endless sand and rocks by those that were born of my broken heart. Whom I breathed life into myself through my own shear terror brought on by this guilt that distracted me. Little did they realize that the corner, into which I was thrown, where I cringed in disconnected wholeness, was where I would stay in my fatigue. All the whorling of the chaotic deadness that was my beloved confidence would keep me going.
I was aware of my deterioration of mind but challenging what you can’t see proves to be entirely vain. I knew I had to catch up with myself. By the time I thought this the soul flouting jolt was dealt to me and I shrank further into my corner beneath the rocks in my sand scoured world. This was the blow that caused the Shattering. My will gone, my determination vague, everything was undistinguishable beneath all the broken glass. I let myself fall even more sincerely into the anesthetic haze that shrouded me through every waking hour, fore again I had failed.
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   0. Adumbrating the Remembrance
As the cool night curled up around me, my mundane thoughts ceased. I could feel the waxing gaze of the moon upon my ragged countenance, touching me to the frayed edges of my soul. The tree tops sighed beneath a wind much harder than the one roaming softly over my placid figure. The smoke I exhaled moved fluidly in a serene dance on the breeze in the moonlight. Lightheaded and jovial, my body swooned in the fragrance of my soul. It was expanding and there was no mistaking the rush that it caused in the ever-quiet of my peace.
Something began to pour in over my calm, my vision faded into the nearly five months of agony that I had so zealously pushed aside to achieve my ground. These were the shards of glass that had been embedded under my skin that my body now rejected with its newly fraught verve.
Years had past me and all of them had taught me valuable lessons in life, but none of them prepared me for what had happened. All of those years had borne the same wasteland and withering foliage of the previous one, and this year looked to be different. As the verdant masque took on a deeper hue in the midday suns, the lack of rain did not alarm me in the slightest. That is, disregarding the conjecture that such green cannot grow without the generation of such a beautiful precipitation. Wildfire burst forth from the dark heart of this forest and soon enough the entire thing, parched as it were, followed its example.
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Saturday, September 17, 2005

   Sorely I have been away.
Let's be vague here, things happen, they happen fast and you can only slow them down through calm collected thought. As I have been busy for the past several days, I have not had the chance to endure such thoughts. I have to make room for my art but that should have a pre-emptive position on my schedule. Grind all those thoughts into smaller one and it just makes them harder to work with. Eat the sunlight that you embrace, and the nectar will heal your soul. Bring to yourself the room that the others can't handle and you've found the cure. Pick through the wreckage of your silence and find that malaise was born in the roots of neglect and shame. Lack of voice watered it thoroughly and it bloomed, blacken petals fringed with crimson spell the end with the poison pollen falling to the ground. Tainted soil and dieing foliage. Where is Sanity now? Gunshot wound to the head laying half in a rivulet skirting the Flowering Hell that poisoned my thoughts. Making the water run red and thick. The sun burns the skin of the damned and the petals flaked away slowly, but will sanity ever arise agian. Or is there a seed discretely embedded in the ground beneath the indolent wound that pulses with pain. The numbness gone and I am glad, the fairness no longer shaded. I'll have a beautiful evening now that I can see the stars again.

-Sparkles
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Friday, September 9, 2005

   Psychosis and My Multiple Personas
I can't distinguish what it is that I feel. Sometimes I'm extraordinarily joyful and in a split second I'm raging. Do these lapsing moments where one thought, one emotion, coincides with only one piece of me and one fragment of time mean I am completely mad? I cannot accept this fate. I, so torn by this barrage of things and thoughts, cannot resign but there is so little that I grasp. Letting go would be easier however, nothing easy is worth doing for the rewards of strain are great, if you're not broken by it. I tend to think that perhaps I've already failed, and there are so many ways to do so, that even after I've fixed it I can never change that failure in my heart.

Change? What change? Will I ever change? Can I allot myself the unrepressed success that I so desire though it is not what I am used to?

I have the memory of failure, that seems a strong enough detourent to stifle my entire existance. These thing that stagnate in my mind are the loathsome excuse that I have to conjure for my troubles. I have no one to blame but myself, and that I do. A little too harshly, all the time. I have no respect for myself and when I seem to aquire even the smallest bit, I find some way to take it from myself. I am a Loser.

How can I plan to help even myself with this lowly opinion of me. I am not worth the power to blow me apart and that's probally why I'm not dead yet. I need something to make me feel worthy of the world, I have my drawing and painting but, there is little appreciation for it because there are few who know me.

Break the restraints that bind me to this Earth? How is that possible? Am I not the one who says that the way you jump to parallel Universe is by aligning yourself with a different vibration?

Ah, yes almost forgot about those. That wich keeps me in the sane realm. All that beautiful philosophical dream that I have that replaces what religion has become to so many others. The thing that twists reality just enough to make it tollerable for my askew thought pattern.

Where has it all gone? Should this be my focus?

I leave now with little more to say than "I hope I'm not right about myself."

-Sparkles***
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Sunday, August 14, 2005

   Bewtixt the Clouds (lost in thought)
We find ourselves when we awaken from a night of rest, we know our names and the faces of those we love. We know what we are and where we live. We have a history and memories. Whilst all at the same time we are aware that this is reality, these physical things hold us in this particular place in time and space. However, can we really be sure of anything, since most of what we are aware of, the things that make up our senses, are less than 1 millionth of what composes the Universe? What we can see is exactly that, merely what we see. As is the same for all of our senses. Could a person wake up in the morning and be someone else? Or could we each become someone new everytime we blink?

Sometimes we get caught in these ruts, lost in the sense of the physical past, present and future. Only when one realizes that this is directly connected with the spiritual past, present and future can progression be achived. In this Physio-Psychological balance is where our "hearts" reside, the corpus colosum, if you will, of a much more collective consciousness for you as a whole. Putting into perspective the simplicity of life and the complexities we think are there.

This brings me to the undertones in the entirety of life. There's things that "hold us back" and "block our vision" but these things are a disturbance in the Physio-Psychological ratio that causes us to be comfortable or not. Chi is the study of the meridians of energy that every living creature has throughout their body and if the meridians are out of alignment then there is some sort of bodily malfunction. Think of the same sort of thing can happen in your brain with emotions and thoughts. There are plenty of draining substances to be had out in the world and the reason most people use them is due to the straining tendancies of society on individualism and openmindedness. Not saying that everyone partakes in these deeds but there are expected exceptions in the 6 billions souls polluting the earth with white noise, hemorraging beyond control.

Truth is that everything is a hypocritical letter addressed to ourselves, life is death, one beautiful paradox that no one can know the words but can still see the letters.

I hope that depression does not consume you, Love. There's more to life than meets the eye. You know what's behind my touch, that slightly electric taste in our mouths. You know how strong I can be and that is your strength as well. If you need anything of me I'll do everything in my power to accomplish it. You force the sanity back, thank-you. For now, though, I hope that the moon and stars will serve well enough as your light. For that is where I am and what I can give. Listen to their words and you'll hear my voice.
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Friday, August 12, 2005

   Gigantour 2005 -Dream Theater- (& Megadeth?)
Nice mile long line to start this story the rational way. Flocking, milling throngs of drunk happy people ready to see the show. The doors opened at 2 and we were in by (?) [exit mind bomb] So many people.

The opener on the main stage was Nevermore, they weren't bad for the opener, though their singer was drunk as shit. We'll call him Mr. Stumbly. : ) The opener for the second stage (just a pitiful little thing out in the parking lot, that you could just shove your way to the front of) was a Bobaflex. It was best described as "Boba Fet Jazzercising", they had a promo van playing their crappy music before they went on. Bad Idea.

It didn't help that Dry Kill Logic was on right after that on the second stage (can't even describe my dislike for that band). Second on the main stage was Dillinger Ecp. Plan, I could kind of hear them, sometimes. I wanted to see them but running back and forth between the two stages got old quick in the boiling humidity and Symphony X was thrid on the second stage: D

Symphony X ruled, I was right at the front and Russell Allen looked like he just got done drinking a beer in the bus. Michael Romeo is a squat man that loves his guitar. They played Smoke and Mirrors (I think that's what it's called), I really enjoyed it, thrashed like whoa and then went to catch what was left of Fear Factory's set. : D

OH, the wonder of the Mosh pit, on the side of a really steep hill at an outdoor amphitheater. A few words here: thank the gods for human padding, there would have been quite the incident had there not been all those people standing by the rail that separates the lawn from the sidewalk and pavillion. I would have been in that pit had I not been in a mini skirt, don't need to give out free shows now. Burton was extatic about the pit and welcomed all the FF fans back and welcomed all the first FF show people "to the family", that made me a happy kitty =^.^=. They rocked out, it was a solid set and there were songs that I recognized but couldn't think of the name, they closed with the title track of their new CD Transgression, it was a badass song.

Somewhere between there, there was another band on the second stage called Life of Agony. I was way too hyped for Dream Theater to check them out, I sat in wild anticipation, smoked my lungs out and had a helluva lot of fun people watching. "I'm fat. Fuck off!" "I play air guitar in an air band." and "I'm fat so technically it's a threesome." were the shrits that made my friends and I laugh the hardest. So many drunk people it was suprising that I didn't see more people falling on their faces. Some guy really liked drunken skipping and spinning, I saw him about 24 times throughout the day. Too many mohawks and not a single pair of hair clippers for me: (

Dream Theater live is the best show I've ever seen. Just absolutely amazing . I don't think I've thrashed so much in all my life, they opened with The Root of All Evil. They played The Glass Prison, Panic Attack, and Never Enough and I am proud to say I did not lose my voice to singing and screaming ... a lot. Jordan Rudess looks like an alien with no hair and he played around with a Chaos Pad for a solo.: ) James LaBrie did the Super Power Metal Scream, I was impressed, I didn't think he had it in him really, he can be such a pud sometimes. I love how Petrucci and Myung do that whole guitar love thing in the middle of the stage. Petrucci has crazy hair, I miss his long hair but it looks sweet with the bleached tips and the spikes. I love how insane Portnoy is, he was grunting into the mic like some weird animal (mating), hitting himself in the head with his drumsticks and all around just exsessive. John Myung short Asian man with big hands, still has long hair and is still one of the best bass players ever. I spent a lot of the time in awe or/and headbanging. Paying for it now; my shoulders, neck and head hurt but it helps the memories.

Happy Kitty =^.^=

We didn't even stay for Megadeth, Fuck Megadeth, Dream Theater makes them seem so bleakly untalented.
Megadeth fans may always be broke but Dream Theater fans like to eat flowers. EAT IT, DRUNK!

I don't think I've ever orgasmed so many times in a public place.

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