diseased desire

I talk to some people and they tell me they have a boring life. Often they say that they wish they were not in the place they are in. Somehow they feel as if there is something missing that is far away and out of touch. I beg to differ on so many accounts. They compare themselves to the wrong type of people who inherited a different pattern to their lives. That is not to say that these people are off track in some way, they are, but their symptomology is a reflection of a much larger disease that we all push upon ourselves. There can be no doubt that we have a disease of desire; or lack thereof. LLc 98.2

slushies

The experience was unforgettable. The things I saw that night simply blew me away. I remember it like it was yesterday. It began witha phone call to the man in the white coat. He looked through the pages and found the name of my disease. It was rare and it seemed I was in for the long haul. I wanted only one thing, crisp and clean; but that one thing would be the end of me were I to partake in its function. So I suffered through the long way around. What was most disturbing was the visual aides I received.
Friendly they were not. They specialized in mochery and demeaning speech. Some were children dressed in white. Other's were wearing all blue or black and all outside were wearing cowboy hats. Some were cards slipping through the cracks in the walls dressed as Jacks thin and tall. Other's were only heard by way of footsteps up the stairs and in the hall. And there I was taking it all in with sweat pooring down my face, teeth grinding and wishing it would all be over. Hours turned to minutes as the night lasted seemed to take forever. I remember looking out the window and seeing a spector or ghost or something placing leaflets on the cars below. I wanted to go down and see what was printed on them, but I could not bring myself to it. I was horrified by the visualness of the everything and the music was blaring so loud I could not hear the sorrowful and hellish words being said about me. It was better that way. That night I wanted to die. LLc 98.2

our anything

There is the edited fix. Through the edited fix comes a determined path of nothingness that cannot possibly serve even an entertainment purpose. But it does, and does so well. Millions and millions love the good stuff and buy it all through and through. Conversation pieces, fragments of momentary loss, only to remember the edited fix is the way they work. It is the way to the super highway lined with signs of changing lights and smiling faces. It is the way to the spectacle and the sadness we have become. Anything to occupy the time. LLc 98.2

if even

I like the days when everything seems simple. I know deep in my heart things are not that way, but I guess the occasional relief, if even for a day, from the mental grind of keeping up appearances is always welcome. It's funny, by the end of days like that I will have already thought about my upcoming work week over a thousand times. So I guess in a sense rarely comes the day where I can honestly say I have a simple life. It could be that thinking things through simply is a waist of time. Old habits can come creeping inside where the fine toothed comb of rationalization comes in and makes a pretty mental picture; if even for a moment in the day. LLc 98.2