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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Thursday, February 27, 2003
and I wonder if your words (that echo through my bones) have left any meaning on the lives (my life) they have touched Tuesday, February 25, 2003
your lies might placate them, but I know better... (and now I know all your lies) and when things progress as I see them progressing, the truth will set you free... Monday, February 24, 2003
"Tell a man that there are 300,000,000,000 stars in the universe, and he will believe you. Tell him that a bench has wet paint on it, and he will have to touch it to be sure." -- Anonymous Sunday, February 23, 2003
Two touching, bleeding souls casting shadows as one the reptilian in her infects me and reflects me I had not expected fear, but terror came with her and though I sought a dying moment, she showed me a dying eternity and though I sought to bring wisdom into the real, she tore the real from me and I was no more, and in unbeing, I lost my fear. Thursday, February 20, 2003
Of love I have naught Save trouble and sad thought, And nothing is grievous as I desirous, Wanting only what No man can get or has got. For in her is all my delight And all that can save me. Such fear I have she deliver me not from pain, Who know not how to ask her; Who can not. If she won't have me now, Death is my portion, Would I had died that day I came into her sway. How softly this kills! When her love look steals on me. Killed me she has, I know not how it was. Joy I have none, if she make me not mad. I am true, or a liar, All vile, or all gentle, Or shaking between, as she desire... I am gone from one joy, From one I loved... visions of a future to unfold? remember when none of it mattered because we knew who we were meant to be because we found eachother and no other mattered and I was flattered but wouldn't you rather pretend it's all we need to be here, bleed sell a soul as seed and plant for all we'll need but greed is freed and you think you'll need a stockpile of arms or legs a fresh nape or two thousand how many more will it take for you to see what's at stake and every mistake we made and how fake and let's face up to the facts no turning back attack the road ahead and beat this sword into a dagger not half the man I was with you you always gave more credit than due and I believed you knew it was true but I wasn't ready and you weren't too and nothing escapes this gravity well we all fell and as clear as a bell we're on the mend and it doesn't take the end so try to suss out what is going on inside your head it's been fun, but I'm no fun anymore and a new surprise is the same old pain wrapped up in stylish wrapping paper and I'm the paper mostly... disposable, torn to shreds, and little children sell me door to door nosebleed... great... one more sign. "the least of your worries" indeed. stop dragging me back to old ailments frail resentments *hangs a clothesline* so it begins... 20 February. Feast Day of St Paula the Bearded. She prayed for a beard to discourage the attentions of a young man, and her prayers were promptly answered. St Wilgefortis, whose feast day is 20 July, was the daughter of the King of Portugal, who wished her to marry the King of Sicily. She had taken a vow of virginity, prayed for a beard, which turned off her suitor, and was crucified by her father. 'Preposterous!' snorts one hagiographer. A bearded female saint carved on the front porch of Westminster Abbey used to be supplicated by women tired of their husband's sexual demands. I'm gone, yes. I still Love you, though. None of my feelings have changed. I still worry and care about you. And I'm sorry that so much pain and misunderstanding has been shared. I've moved on, but I will always be here clutching my false hope... Wednesday, February 19, 2003
this is the worst headache I have ever had... I'm scared because of what the ER doctor said... but I dare not say anything. BAVARIAN FIRE DRILL!!! of course... (and what did chasing windmills win Quixote?) Romans 7:7-10 (and what did The Equinox: A Journal of Scientific Illuminism, 1922 say about "those who thwart these rights"?) Man has the right to Love as he will... and the word of the law is Thelema. Monday, February 17, 2003
The results of the famous domestic violence survey by the Family Research Laboratory in 1985 found that 1.8 million women were the victims of severe domestic abuse each year, which led to the famous statistic: A woman is battered by her partner every 18 seconds. That same survey found what number of men were victims of severe domestic abuse? 2 million As hard as it is to believe, the same survey which gave us the widely-quoted one-woman-every-18-seconds figure found that even more men were being severely abused--one man every 15 seconds. Even the survey that was performed as part of the Violence Against Women Act found that well over a third of domestic violence victims are men. Yet this tragedy is denied to the point that battered men are in the same situation today as battered women in the 1950s. Sunday, February 16, 2003
"... but we grisly old Sykos who have done our unsmiling bit on alices, when they were yung and easily freudened..." -- Finnegan's Wake, by James Joyce smile... c'mon... ironic? the gravity of it all tiny rainbows form falling down around me twinkling beneath reality only a hint shines through a glint shines through through and I don't see you being through when you put me through what I'm going through I'm trying to leave but forever, you cleave... Friday, February 14, 2003
two quotes have been surfacing in my mind all day... "This too shall pass..." and "Forget it Jake, it's Chinatown..." *grins* Chinatown indeed. forgiveness is my metier, and my biggest fault... I find no more pain in this and I'm already gone... you need not repeat it maybe I can find someone (anyone) who cares by tonight... non compos mentis fickle faculties racked my brain raindrops echo of forgotten pain drained, restrained, and doused in disdain the players all forgot the game their souls recovery forever strained in due time, explained but not forgotten despondent I'll bet even Kismet didn't see this coming a mile away (16 miles to be exact) extracting all my self-control lost in a barrel roll (tailspin) tailspun out of control and just my luck the parachute won't open... Thursday, February 13, 2003
Malevolent Everything and Everywhere and all is lost in Trails Moments pass and tears will not Evaporate Arrange the Teardrops to flood and pointed reminders Love passes Under purple skies and Love amasses Under elysian eyes So sad and tired Art speaks Truculent, deep Every tear Lost in the rain Every fear Very deep in pain Every leer Not in vain The poignant melody Haunting my spaces Indifference and oblivion Reality faulters The poignant melancholy has Yet to complete me Falling deeper and forever Riding the current of our current situation and I just can't see anything but Doomsday scenarios And lost lotharios Yearning for recognition, for a chance Naught but joy I feel Given this thought is real Heavy like an iron curtain They hold over you. Cutting down our little joys One after another Moments erased but not forgotten Exchanged for nothing Always, you had me Living inspiration Only now, it's different No more sympathetic and respectful Eyes... Wednesday, February 12, 2003
plurabella, Love never passes, it exists beyond what we know... beyond space and time and all the ruminations or regrets, there is always Love. Always. -m 12 February. Feast Day of Artemis, Moon Goddess and Mother of Creatures, the Latin Diana. She was also the Huntress, killer of the very creatures she had brought forth. Her priestesses wore the masks of hunting dogs and, like Hecate, she led the nocturnal hunt. Today is also the feast of Julian the Hospitaller, patron saint of ferrymen, innkeepers and circus people, who probably never existed beyond the romance of the Golden Legend. According to this, Julian accidentally killed his parents but was forgiven after rescuing a half-frozen traveller who turns out to be an angel. something needs to be done about the running narrative in my head each passing thought like some sick stab at a dark cinematic moment complete with the dark voiceover I pray for silence but it prays upon me weighs upon me like a leaden rain the streets couldn't contain his madness the nights couldn't restrain his sadness and inbetween, the flashes of each passing telephone pole beckon him like angels with leather wings and no halo... Tuesday, February 11, 2003
Monday, February 10, 2003
Sunday, February 09, 2003
I'm feeling disconnected frosted over teeth chattering as I drown in liquid sadness flooding down my face when the levee breaks and the waters flow I have nothing left to anchor me and I float (no paddle) and fall stutter more now than before and second guess myself slip and stumble riot rumble toss and tumble unstick the locks (never a key) and sink and breath breathing lost its ease (every smell reminds me) and I can smell the salty stinging tears as they rush to my lips and I no longer can feel the difference between sinking and swimming doomed down to drown... can't shake this chill in the air can't feel whole anymore can't see reason to believe that everything will be okay... Saturday, February 08, 2003
(set to trip hop beat and a funky bass line) Solitude I never see you as clear you ring out rung out flung out about a maze where, amazed, the Minotaur -- with two more -- runs guided tours and Theseus had to pay at the door escaped to fly high higher than the wind soars the wax in your ears melts as Icarus himself felt the rush of emotion as he fell to the ocean and rolled around in pain forever vain and vanity drives more men mad then the sad sirens' song so what's wrong? tonight was epiphanic... for the first time, thoughts and emotions blended and formed a synergistic voice that sent me visions of things I dare not even speak of... I saw what the sages and artists draw from... I felt as if I was looking for the first time again, with a tired eye -- with my tired I's... Friday, February 07, 2003
Thursday, February 06, 2003
Though the whole world turns away Full of anger and dismay, Let us keep our lunches down And maintain an iron frown. Wednesday, February 05, 2003
"One who achieves supreme illumination is like an arrow flying straight to hell." You can release at any moment. It's great up there, and you need a mantra to keep you away from it until you learn how to use it. Here's the mantra, and if you knew the peril you are in you'd brutally burn it into your backside with a branding iron to make sure you'd never forget it: I Am The Robot... Repeat it. You are the robot and you'll never be anything else. *looks around* Who said that? amniotic conversation is lost among a yearning for something more. silent declarations, secret ruminations, endless permutations, and in the dream time of alonethought, I can still hear Her here... here in my head I can hear the echo of raindrops or were they tears lost in the ripple, my reflection stutters and I can't even rely on myself. just a harder piece of coal... You've got to run very fast to catch up to the sun... "and you run and you run to catch up to the sun, but it's sinking -- racing around to come up behind you again..." -- Pink Floyd in search of light... (not "the light," no, not that, not ever) You always need more light, when you're lost out here... ... suddenly, the last pang of guilt was gone; utter reproach took over and talked him into sitting. No thoughts would pass. No ideas formed from the chaos of his hebephrenic mind. He knew he would be forgotten and it was a comfort and a fear. But none of that mattered because he again buried it so deep that nobody would ever find his insecurities again... (She stalks my mind, always in the guise of Love...) Tuesday, February 04, 2003
an increase in empathy, a decrease in detachment a feeling of floating permanently implanted content to disappear, reborn as all nature... igni natura renovatur integra sometimes, when the whole world around me keeps telling me I'm crazy, I, for sometimes more than a brief moment, start to see what they mean... but then I remember that I'm not crazy... just way too intelligent for my own good. call me crazy and ego(t)istical, but... "The more perfect a thing is, the more susceptible to good and bad treatment it is." -- Dante "Remorse is impotence, it will sin again. Only repentance is strong, it can end everything." -- Henry Miller "Hope is a bad thing. It means that you are not what you want to be. It means that part of you is dead, if not all of you. It means that you entertain illusions. It's a sort of spiritual clap, I should say." -- Henry Miller "Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such." -- Henry Miller Monday, February 03, 2003
I know you better than this... I know you don't mean the things you say... I know that there are limits... melancholy settles in and drains my weary mind and tortures me as pain runs through in order and in kind Sunday, February 02, 2003
Saturday, February 01, 2003
I'm so disillusioned that I can't even sleep off this depression... (they'll all see you for the liar you are soon...) |
faeries have died because YOU haven't been clapping hard enough.