aspie ranting |
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If I seem a little distant or incoherent, it's because I am. I am not a NeuroTypical and I have no desire to become one. This is simply the area in which I stim my creative impulses. (WARNING: All entries are either ENTIRELY TRUE or ENTIRELY FALSE and anything claiming to be one of the latter is, in fact, one of the former. There are no exceptions to this rule.) comments, marriage proposals, and death threats can be sent here 
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Friday, January 31, 2003
Thursday, January 30, 2003
As the cinnamon fingers of dawn creep across the sky, I see it -- the eye. The eye sees all. And shadows move where nobody stirs. The ruby and demonaic orb of cold fire, without mercy or pity or contempt stares at me and into me and through me. I see the reflection of my own eyes in its deep gaze. I couldn't believe the thought of me could be so frightening, a real madman in a perfectly sane way, not even a psychopath but something they don't even have a name for. (From the west come the thundering hooves of the great horse Onan. The lonely stranger rides again...) Wednesday, January 29, 2003
Tuesday, January 28, 2003
"God is a concept by which we measure our pain..." -- John Lennon so powerful a line, he had to "say it again..." amazing how something as simple could make me fall in Love all over again... (the right way, this time) Monday, January 27, 2003
ah, the joys of Star Trek... "Don't try to be a great man ... just be a man. Let history make its own judgments." -- Dr. Zefram Cochrane a morning of Epicurean delight sullied by the trite ramblings of a jealous mind an afternoon fighting just to talk when I should have waited why did waiting 20 minutes seem so Sisyphean blinded like a flash-bang nova of the mind and the eye (I closed it long ago blinded) the all seeing eye opened again. Sunday, January 26, 2003
what did I know of Love's austere fatalities of all the trite lies, pain and apologies of Love's austere banalities. Saturday, January 25, 2003
I can feel it, deep in the pits of my stomach, all the way down to my feet and it devours my skull emptiness, darkness abounds and nothing but dark sounds surround me engulf me consume me the demons speak volumes her angellic voice was there, always and now, the silence (nobody will talk to me) sits on my ear like a razor blade slicing my very soul. under a sheet of ice, frozen past the core dry from all the heat of passion, alone at the end of the day and lied about denied about everything is lost alone at the end of the day cold reality is not my friend nor is sanity my keeper and all the world (especially you) is pulling me much much deeper the paladin and the palaver fighting to find some rest the torpor is the only respite and far from the best... I feel denied. I feel nonexistent and denied. I feel betrayed in a funny sort of way. and I feel like morning light will pronounce nothing apart from a blindingly brilliant halo of goodbye. Friday, January 24, 2003
*shatters* I don't know why I'm breaking anymore... it just happens it's nobody's fault but I can't keep this from them (let alone Her) how long a wait until forever begins? I'm on the next train... Thursday, January 23, 2003
"...mentally awake, and morally straight." echoing like the silence after a loud noise... (I have not been a good man.) Wednesday, January 22, 2003
A beautiful mist leaves it's scar upon morning. Regrets lay tossed like her blankets from a restless night's sleep. The words she spoke the night before lay stained upon her lips. She moves slowly, as if afraid to leave her bed; the world has not been kind to her. Though I Love her, she will never admit it, as if afraid that speaking it aloud would sully it; the world has not been kind to her. Though she Loves me, she will never embrace it, as if afraid that by embracing it, she would deny it. How can the world be kind to her if she never reveals herself. She blinks at the mirror, hoping that a portal will open and she can go far away from the trouble she creates just to make life interesting; the world has not been kind to her. She has dreams of growing old and having children and spending days in bed with her true Love. But, I have not been kind to her. I would make it all up to her, if given the chance, but she would rather live a lie. The pain and the rift grow with each passing day, and with each passing night, we try to pull together; the world is not kind to us. "How can we be true to ourselves if we are never apart?" I think we are only ourselves when we are together; with them, she is someone else. She turns the water on as hot as she can stand it, just to feel. Numbness, to her, is the only way to get through the day. (Her nights belong to me.) How can she help being cold, or calculated, when her desires force such a feeling. Acceptance was never given to her, nor would she know what to do with it if she had it. I scarcely think she should know she had it at all. Plagued with doubt, she washes her hair. She secretly wishes I would be there, pulling at her until she could find her way home. She spends longer in the shower than she should -- just to feel -- and rushes to dry off while plotting an outfit to wear; even this causes her grief as she worries about matching or being out of style. She relies on her appearance, you see, as a way to gauge her self-worth. (I don't understand how she could ever think she is anything less than perfect.) Not quite satisfied -- insatiable, always -- she looks in the mirror again, again hoping. No such portal appears. She moves reluctantly down the stairs to find something to eat that will tickle her senses and provide enough of a distraction from her (self-imposed) prison of numbness. Finding no such nepenthe, she finds whatever requires the least effort to prepare, often relying on something already made and packaged. The lack of distraction pulls her deeper into the self-perpetuation of her numbness. Cold, bored, and tired, she sits down to stare at the clock for a moment, wishing that it would somehow fly ahead to night so that she can feel again, but not even this grants her the respite needed for her to have faith. She can feel herself sinking. All through her day, she has minor triumphs and is shown compassion, but it is all empty to her; she can't share it with whom she truly wants, and she knows that it is not as real as she would like; she is not herself. She has not been herself for a long time; this causes problems. Her day is over. After suffering through a day of grays, though mostly only a monotone, she settles into her lonliness. Relaxed and out of time, she builds a wall to keep the tears in and to keep the fears out. Her phone rings and she sinks; she knows who is calling. She breathes in a deep breath and she knows that she has to be strong to keep up her deception of the world. As soon as she hears the voice, my voice, she is free; she both hates and Loves this. Tuesday, January 21, 2003
Sunday, January 19, 2003
I don't think it's fair for you to leave right now. I don't think it's fair to leave me when I can still smell you everywhere I go -- on my sweatshirt, on my shirt, in my bed... the pain is deep and my soul is dissipating... and I have almost no desire left my heart is not broken... my heart has been stolen from me. I am alone now... completely... not even my demons speak to me. Friday, January 17, 2003
Thursday, January 16, 2003
weight has been lifted... but I'm still fragile. neither quick nor agile so when the weight of the world becomes too much to bear, ask for help, don't drop it all on me. I'll be there, always. Wednesday, January 15, 2003
it's sad... truly sad... while you're at school... sitting around, laughing at me with your friends, I'm here choking on my own bile... literally. I don't want to live like this... Tuesday, January 14, 2003
wow... I count my chickens before they're hatched... maybe St. Hilary is coming around in the guise of another... 14 January. St Hilary's Day, supposedly the coldest day of the year. There was a 'dreadful, fatal frost' in 1205; in 1814 the Thames froze firmly enough to hold a 'Frost Day'. Today is also the Festival of the Ass, commemorating the Flight into Egypt. In England, a beautiful woman holding a baby and seated on a decorated ass was led to church. The donkey was tethered to the altar, mock hymns were sung about donkeys and the priest's benediction was replaced by three brays, to which the congregation replied in kind. wow... faith in someone has finally paid off... this is truly life changing... (I Love you Emily Carroll... you are my world. I hope that we are together FOREVER.) Monday, January 13, 2003
"I hurt myself today to see if I still feel I focus on the pain the only thing that's real the needle tears a hole the old familiar sting try to kill it all away but I remember everything what have I become? my sweetest friend everyone I know goes away in the end you could have it all my empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt I wear my crown of shit on my liar's chair full of broken thoughts I cannot repair beneath the stain of time the feeling disappears you are someone else I am still right here what have I become? my sweetest friend everyone I know goes away in the end you could have it all my empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt if I could start again a million miles away I would keep myself I would find a way" -- Hurt, by Nine Inch Nails (if you can, download Johnny Cash's cover of this... he brings a lot to this song...) I'm fighting the urge to do something drastic I'm fighting the urge to say something rash I'm fighting the urge to think Love is plastic I'm fighting the urge to end... I'm drowning... drowning in a pool of tears, of fears and justifiable doubt; drowning in the harsh acid of a transformation to/from a gutless wonder, and I taste all the bile I can muster but it's not enough... and I felt empty long before it all came rushing out. I wish I knew how I got home last night.... I woke up this morning and I don't remember coming home... Sunday, January 12, 2003
4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days until she leaves for good....... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... 4 days... "Without censorship, things can get terribly confused in the public mind." -- General William Westmoreland with one foot out the door is certainly a way to try to keep a happy medium among Pandemonium hearts falling out on the cold concrete floor screaming out to shatter like the every time before and I adore feeling alone like I can't go back to bed because I have a certain feeling and that feeling is just dead amazed yet unfazed restrained and plain my soul releases no masterpieces of volumes of text each like the next and the last one falling out and nothing there is left you're empty like an eggless nest invest in something more than on this earth and more than you ever even dreamed from birth because even when you think you might fly up as a dove the snakes will pull you down again, all in the name of "Love." got a nice ring? (too bad it's over now we both know it's doomed and platitudes remorsed while reality looms) Friday, January 10, 2003
Thursday, January 09, 2003
it's the lost art of saying goodbye... Loyalty is a dead art and even the remnants of decency associated with it have been denied from existence. People throw around words that they don't know anything about simply because they think that they can know from explinations by people who have been in the trenches their whole lives and who truly have experienced them. My life is all about cycles. I suppose that's due in part to what so many soothsayers and mystics have always told me about my dual nature. In this vessel are two very different personalities; it's like night and day -- one has the beauty of the universe twinkling like an ocean tide, and the other has the risk of getting burned. Astrologists might say that it has something to do with the dual ruling planets of Scorpio -- Mars and Pluto. Psychologists might say that it's borderline bipolar or, at best, Asperger Syndrome. There are so many mixed feelings about me that I don't even know if anyone is capable of truly Loving me. So I go through these cycles, or, these cycles go through me. I can go from having nobody in my life at all and being truly alone to having a dozen girls all trying to get my attention and claiming to love me and back again. Each change in the cycle happens almost instantly. And don't think I'm being (melo)dramatic because I'm in the alone phase; I think about this just as much when I am surrounded by people. I scare people... a lot. I don't quite know why this is. My friend Chris told me, a few times, that he found me phsyically intimidating. Now this is quite a feat as he is a good 6 inches taller than me and outweighs me by at least 200lbs, not to mention that he was a football player. I have to wonder if it's just my stance or my attitude that projects something frightening. I feel as though I am truly a chameleon. I can relate, honestly, to pretty much everyone. The flip side is that I'm somewhat desensitized to points of view. I don't know... I'm just lost... lost and lonely... every bolt of light (unremaining) leaves me more alone (unretaining) and I strike like lighting (unrefraining) with magnetism and fire (unregaining) and I am alone now (unremaining) Wednesday, January 08, 2003
forgive my lack of enthusiasm forgive my lack of spite forgive my harsh reality forgive me, this is trite Monday, January 06, 2003
6 January. Old Christmas Day, Epiphany and Twelfth Night, which has taken over many of the customs associated with Saturnalia, the Roman Winter Festival. Cakes are still made with a bean inside; whoever gets the bean is king for the day, and can behave as he wishes until midnight. Fava ('bean' in Italian slang) means female genitalia, a continuation of the ancient Roman association of beans with fertility. Christmas is still celebrated on this day on the Shetland Island of Foula, whose inhabitants didn't change to the Gregorian calendar with the rest of Britain in 1752. Sunday, January 05, 2003
January 5. The feast of Simon Stylites who spent 36 years on top of a pillar 60 feet tall. The pillar was three feet in diameter, and Simon's favourite position was standing wit his head touching his feet. He died in AD 459. Thursday, January 02, 2003
Wednesday, January 01, 2003
forgive me when I lapse into an overabundance... an overabundance of anadiplosis... anadiplosis is the way my my works... if it works at all... |
faeries have died because YOU haven't been clapping hard enough.