escape often has nothing to do with geography

“No one can pull anyone back from anywhere. You save yourself or you remain unsaved.”
-Alice Sebold

(but regardless I’ve been thanking the ones who have tried since the day I clawed my way out)

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yeh.

Conversation at work with an old man

Him:  How old do you think I am?
Me: I don’t know… 25?
Him: (laughs)  I’m ninety eight
Me: WOW, well then you’re doing pretty good!
Him:  Yup, my wife and I have been married for sixty-nine years.
Me:  … how old do you think I am?
Him:  (stares me up and down) Twenties?
Me:  Yup I’m 21.
Him:  So you’re not married hmm?
Me: Heck no.  I call that ‘The Trap’
Him:  (laughs delightedly)

———

so decided to take a 2 AM trip to Detroit Lakes with  my friend… but ten minutes out of Fargo he says, “hey have you ever been to Buffalo State Park?”  and I was thinking the stars would  be amazing so I begged him to take me there instead.

And I was right, the stars were phenomenal to the point where I could not stop smiling.  The weather was perfect.  No wind, very few mosquitoes, and warm enough with the blanket I brought.  Glad I didn’t just go to bed like I had intended.

“In fact, I am aware of the fake entities in my life.
I know that I can clear
them if I wanted to in a moment …
But all this hollowness needs my sincerity.”

-Rumi

Now, Now – Wolf

It’s been almost a year since I’ve been full-on obsessed with someone. I don’t think I’m capable of it anymore, perhaps once I turned 20 that was the cutoff point. I really dig this song though, and here’s the picture. that I made. BAM

 

best if used by

I wish I was capable of being in
love
veins tangled into
blindness,
one of those
bicycle built for two
scenarios,
circus-like tendencies
suddenly acceptable
the truth:
I spent years wearing a particularly
unflattering shade of vulnerability, 
tripping over every tenth step I took or
gave
now it’s all inside-voices, walk-not-
run
“don’t cry over spilled
milk” becomes meaningless if you
never drop the glass and
those who don’t fall don’t break either
but I can’t help but think that
perhaps I’ve been so worried about the crash that I
clipped my wings myself
and maybe the expiration date will get me
after all
—–
truth be told:  I could probably still manage reckless… Reckless enough to spill the milk instead of waiting for it to rot.  (but I doubt I could possibly be sentimental enough to cry over the mess)
So how ’bout it homeboy?
Care to be my gallon of 2 percent?
—–

The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.

-Ernest Hemingway

p.s. The bicycle for two thing is a reference to my parents, because when they ask if I want to come with them, I always say, “and what ride my unicycle?”  because I think like they look like a circus on that thing.

wha BAM

jacked this from:  http://heathersday.tumblr.com/

half the time I get what I want I realize I don’t actually want it, and sometimes the grass is really just plastic and that’s why it looked so green from here.  time to chop up perspectives and bask in some new found naivety if I can conjure any up from today’s sun-drenched faux-cynicism.  Because I’m never cynical.  The naivety is sorta fake as well, and I guess most of this paragraph has been a parody or satire or well the obvious word would be “lies”.   vaguely content…

tonight…

presents

along the brittle treacherous bright streets
of memory comes my heart,singing like
an idiot,whispering like a drunken man
-ee cummings

and here:

Most of us have love in our lives. Most of us love other people and are ourselves loved by others.
But make no mistake: you are alone in the world. You were born alone, even if you were born conjoined. And you die alone, unable to bring a single person with you.
Self-pity means waiting for that man with the glass slipper that perfectly fits your foot to knock on your door. Self-pity is waiting to be bottle-fed your dinner.

-Augusten Burroughs

annnnnnd my last gift for you today (this is what I sing to my old people):

cage

“Rose Madder” is why I do not trust arrogant/overly confident men on a very deep level.  Excerpts.
—————————————

The concept of dreaming is known to the waking mind but to the
dreamer there is no waking, no real world, no sanity; there is only
the screaming bedlam of sleep. Rose McClendon Daniels slept

within her husband’s madness for nine more years.

—————–
Come over here, sweetheart, I want to talk to you up close.
———

Get out of here, that deep part of her said suddenly. Get out of

here right now, this very minute. Don’t even take the time to

run a comb through your hair. Just go.

‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said, rocking back and forth faster than

ever. The spot of blood on the sheet sizzled in her eye. From here,

it looked like the dot under an exclamation point. ‘That’s ridiculous,

where would I go?’

Anywhere he isn’t, the voice returned. But you have to do it

right now. Before

Before what?

That one was easy. Before she fell asleep again.
———

 Her feet, clad in white lowtop sneakers, patted the floor in a quickening

rhythm (the buzzing was now mostly in her head, rattling her brains,

heating her up), and what she thought was Fourteen years.

Fourteen years of having him talk to me up close. The

miscarriage. The tennis racket. Three teeth, one of which I

swallowed. The broken rib. The punches. The pinches. And the

bites, of course. Plenty of those. Plenty of –

Stop it! It’s useless, thinking like this, because you’re not

going anywhere, he’d only come after you and bring you back,

he’d find you, he’s a policeman and finding people is one of the

things he does, one of the things he’s good at-

‘Fourteen years,’ she murmured, and now it wasn’t the last

fourteen she was thinking about but the next. Because that other

voice, the deep voice, was right. He might not kill her. He might

not. And what would she be like after fourteen more years of

having him talk to her up close? Would she be able to bend over?

Would she have an hour – fifteen minutes, even – a day when her

kidneys didn’t feel like hot stones buried in her back? Would he

perhaps hit her hard enough to deaden some vital connection, so

she could no longer raise one of her arms or legs…?

—-

‘I’m going,’ she murmured. ‘I’m really, really going.’
But she stayed where she was a moment longer, like an animal which has been kept in a cage so long it cannot believe in freedom even when it is offered. She reached behind her and touched the knob of the door – the door that led into her cage

 ‘No more,’ she whispered. She tucked her bag under one arm and took her first dozen steps into the fogbank which was now her future.


-Rose Madder, Stephen King

autumn, Invisible Monsters

Autumn just makes my heart hurt. f’real

photos by:  http://janek-sedlar.deviantart.com/

 

 http://alexandru1988.deviantart.com/

and http://oer-wout.deviantart.com/

Tell the world what scares you the most” says Brandy.
She gives us each an Aubergine Dreams eyebrow pencil and says “Save the world with some advice from the future”

From Seth:
When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?
A kiss and it’s off on the wind toward Ballard.

Only when we eat up this planet will God give us another. We’ll be remembered more for what we destroy than what we create.

Interstate 5 snakes by in the distance. From high atop the Space Needle, the southbound lanes are red chase lights, and the northbound lanes are white chase lights. I take a card and write:

I love Seth Thomas so much I have to destroy him. I overcompensate by worshipping the queen supreme. Seth will never love me. No one will ever love me ever again.

Brandy is waiting to take the card and read it out loud. Brandy’s waiting to read my worst fears to the world, but I don’t give her the card. I kiss it myself with the lips I don’t have and let the wind take it out of my hand. The card flies up, up, up to the stars and then falls down to land in the suicide net.
While I watch my future trapped in the suicide net, Brandy reads another card from Seth,

We are all self-composting.


I write another card from the future and Brandy reads it:
When we don’t know who to hate, we hate ourselves.

An updraft lifts up my worst fears from the suicide net and sails them away.

Seth writes and Brandy reads.
You have to keep recycling yourself.

I write and Brandy reads.
Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I’ve ever known.

I write and Brandy reads.
The one you love and the one who loves you are never ever the same person.”          

Chuck Palahniuk – Invisible Monsters
 
 

I love this book.  messed up, twisted, and downright weird as it is.

I stay wrecked and jealous for this one simple reason

you know those people who smile like the world is all theirs?  These are the ones I can’t help but love.

I like happy people. and I’ve only really met two in the last three years that I’d classify this way.  These people I just watch and watch and watch, because everything they do intrigues me.  Confidence without arrogance is a rare and beautiful thing.
——————————
My heart has ADD.

—-
random A.B. quote

It seemed obvious to Bebe that she needed to remedy the situation, curb her spending. So she put away the bill and logged on to Amazon.com to look for a book on the subject. She did a search and found ShoppingStoppers: The Breakthrough Best-seller that Can Help You Curb Your Compulsive Shopping. She clicked on it. The book jacket appeared on her screen. Beneath the book jacket, the text said, ‘Customers who bought this book also bought…’ and then listed seven other titles. So Bebe purchased them all, along with a book about investing in Chinese artifacts. She logged off feeling tremendous relief.” 

-Augusten Burroughs – Sellevision

In other news I’ve been listening to Taking Back to Sunday all day, (their 2002 album, Tell All Your Friends)  and it just takes me back to my junior high days like nothin’ else. the first band I ever really loved.