Ciao

Thanks Faulkner, for the standard.

I am unaware. Completely, utterly unaware. Just like you. Do not get defensive quite yet. It's a circle. You're unaware that you're unaware because you're unaware and therein lies the paradox. Pocahontas chants you'll learn things you never knew you never knew just around some curve in a natural water structure, but I beg to differ. It takes more than mother nature's delights to reveal what's really there. It even takes more than a deceivingly thin social psychology textbook. It takes what I'll call Devine intervention. No, not a misspelling. Devine is the name of a teacher I had in my adolescent years before I realized I could use words to get somewhere. It was seventh grade, it was September 14th or 15th or some day after you-know-what. She told us to write and so I did. I'll always thank her.. until I forget of course.

I'm scared that something very bad will happen to Barack Obama. We all are, but more scared than we are that it will happen, we are scared of saying it out loud because that sort of validation is for prophecies that are almost guaranteed. We cannot say it because we don't want to be the first to admit that every day we read the headlines with a subconscious desire to find some inkling of proof that our pockets still hold some weight, our military still has some artillery, our minds still have some innocence and our president-elect can still maintain a steady breath. 

I'm not in the mood to deal with something that could be, but just isn't. I'm trying to make it into more than filling a gap, I'm trying to be serious, but my skeleton is built on funny. So humor me. We can play as long as you want, but as soon as you step off the field for a water break I'm implementing an endurance-based mercy rule and going home, back to bed where I dream that I'm not missing out or acting on a fear of closeness. Experience, shmexperience.

Give me liberty or give me death.

I miss you so much I can't even feel at home anymore. I cry at the thought of your apparition on my sill. It's not fair that even good things come to an end. That's not what they teach you growing up so it's their fault and so it shouldn't be like this because if I had known maybe I would have done something to prepare for it or fix it. I could have mentally coached myself for the reality of life, the fact that you really will go away and not come back without a murmur or even some sort of spark in my veins to tell me that something went wrong that I won't know about for weeks and that a piece of me is gone, but isn't that funny. Until you're AWARE that it's gone, you feel whole. So maybe that's why we're all unaware. Ignorance. is. bliss. It's because if we were aware of what we're missing, what we can't have because we're human, what we can't say because we have social binds, what we can't feel because we don't have the synapses, what we can't know because we don't have the means and what we can't remember because you just can't remember anything anymore it's like a disease atrophying your mind it hurts to think. Yea so I loved my cat, what of it?

So this was good for a first post. I mean... I broke you in. I'm in no way normal, I like to let my consciousness flutter like Pocahontas' stream and if you don't get it then don't listen to Cash because he's too deep for your shallow education... Oh yes, I'm offensive, cynical and hypocritical too. It's more fun that way. It's like playing cops, robbers and lawyers all the time. The outside world arrests, the birds of spotlight chirp and gaffe and swallow and vom and what do I do? I advocate.