a few words on EVOL

Misunderstood feeling… misconducted.. and all its misconception … Love is just a word pronounced by the incessant/obsessive feelings that wraps around our heart cavities and rends it apart (or so that’s how it feels at times).

By Emily Dickinson’s mysterious lonesome existence and mind (as I believe she has the most clarifying answers – for she was a mysterious lonesome thinking creature):

“To love is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.”

“Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.”

“Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.”

The French also have the knowledge, of course:

“There is love of course. And then there’s life, its enemy.”
Jean Anouilh

And the most innocent of the characters:

“Do you love me because I am beautiful, or am I beautiful because you love me?
Cinderella

“Powerful thing this business of love… it’s probably the greatest lost of all”
Merlin

Or yelled from the foulest mouths:

“Love is suicide”
Billy Corgan

“Lovers turn into monsters at the loss of all affection almost like it was the affection that kept them from being monsters”
Conor Oberst

Or right from my heart and mind:

If I ever get to reincarnate after my departure, please Lord make me an apathetic tree standing in a garden emptied of children or lovers. Let me stand tall and dormant until it all ends and starts again, because what I learned is that love is  horribly glorious; living with it is – at the same time – bliss and woe, and my heart can just deal with so much of this and so much of that.

curtains

Have you ever felt like you are looking from behing seethrough curtains?
You can kinda figure out what it is happening but not really… because everything is just Topsy-turvy and you are never sure what is what…

I can’t see it now… I’m behind the curtains… squinting… for some understanding.

therefore, I could care less…

While alone…

Swearing in front of the mirror to watch my lips move and understand what I am when I’m angry…
after 20 minutes I remember… I don’t swear when I’m angry. I never speak when I’m angry.

I can’t breath during a dyspnea attack.
I can’t cry for no reason, it means I can’t cry when I’m upset.
I can’t sleep with the brain I have anymore… I need a new brain.

During shower I am a princess and I can perform magic and my favorite one is the string of pure light that pours out of my index fingers… it’s only water… it’s my magic. Then it’s been 40 minutes there and my fingers and toes are as wrinkled as raisins.

I can’t write songs when I’m happy
I can’t stand my own voice after using it all day
I can’t share my secrets with my friend anymore… I need a new friend.  I don’t want a new friend.

Swinging on a swing at night watching the wind shaping the lake into these people struggling to not drown… “OH NO, WE ALL GONNA DIE, OH LORD, OOOOH MERCY”. I’m distracted by watching my shoes going up and down again. They drown… I fly.

I can’t swing as high as I used to when I was a kid
I can’t stand the cold weather of this state anymore
I can’t tell you the truth… I need this lie.

Chained

When I was young I used to close my eyes, alone in my room and daydream of how it would feel to not exist anymore. Concentration was very important and after a while of it I could feel what was not to feel. I was what was not to be. Silence and nothing but silence. There were no colors or thoughts. No regrets or memories.

I have a friend who panics when he thinks of it. For me, it was meditation.
I had this direful wish earlier this morning.

I wished I could go away and start again somewhere else, somewhere new, where nobody knew of me or of my past. To be alone. Alone again. Alone in my room meditating about being nothing again.
It’s very selfish of me, you see, for I have a daughter who depends on me. So, let’s say, this could be a plan for whenever she was done with college and good to go on her own little legs (which would be quite long, probably longer than mine by then).
It made me feel excited to be planning this for myself, until I start worrying about any complications she might face in her life… and how she’d cry and ask God in her prayers at night why I am not around anymore.

This wish made me come to the knowledge that it does no matter how much I want to restart, I’m chained to who I am and the more I try to stray from it, the more I’ll drag about all of what composes me (which sounds painful enough).

I’m not free, nobody is. Freedom is a utopia as such as Communism, Peace, Love and Happiness are.

I am such a selfish person… so typically human, it disgusts me.

I come to under the blankets once in a while… and meditate again.

The Associate – Part 1

Nothing annoys me more than shoppers. It’s not only because I’m a wretched retail associate, it’s also because I lack patience to certain groups of people. I even named them so I can use correct terminology to identify danger proximity and not have my ass kicked for it.

For example I’d say something like: “Oh no, ROAMERS!!”
They are the least to worry about, but GOD do they annoy me! Walking aimlessly around the store, unfolding every single piece of clothing on the shelves to realize that their lives are miserable and empty and so are their pockets. Never ever buy a thing and I still have to smile at them, forcefully… it makes my cheeks hurt.

Good thing they can’t listen to the rest of my speech, which I keep to myself for the sake of keeping my employment status. For instance, if you’re a ROAMER and you’re leaving the store, this is the part you’d listen to: “Have a good evening!(…)”
this is the part you wouldn’t listen to: “youcangosuckadickathome,sonofawhore!”

And it varies everyday. I found out that, in ire, you can get rather creative with the art of insulting people to their bones!

Anyway, I also hate the Prom Bitches. But of course that’s NSFW* nomenclature.
That’s why I came up with C-Prommers.  When you say it fast enough they think you’re talking about computers. In case you’re wondering, C is short for cunt.

C-Prommers are not completed without the following objects attached to them (which we do not speak of):
- Cell Phone (vital)
- Fruity Gum
- Flip flops in summer time and UGG boots during winter
- Too much cotton candy scent perfume
- Multiple layers of colorful shirts (but somehow they manage to let their boobs stick out of a crocked looking plunge)
- Overprotective Bitch-Face jerk mom

And HAVE MERCY, LORD, they storm around the Juniors department during Prom and Homecoming like crazy bitches.

I believe these people have absolutely no sense of direction because they bump into the dresses hung on the racks like they are blind as a bat, dropping the garments EVERYWHERE.

They are also illiterate. Every fitting room in the store has two signs with some tips to the costumers not end up being suspects of shoplifting (and also so the associates don’t need to spend the whole fucking night cleaning up the mess). One of them says: “ONLY 6 PIECES ALLOWED”, the other one says “PLEASE RETURN THE GARMENTS TO THE DEPARTMENT FLOOR”. And they never consider doings such a thing. Too much of a medieval mind, I reckon, especially their mothers, who, I imagine, speak to their daughters like this:  “Do not fear my pet, some vassal shall be responsible for your shambles by the end of this day.” And there they go out of the fitting room, leaving half of the department inside, out of the hangers, everywhere on the floor and seats, 85% of them inside out.

But what really amuses me it’s when they show their incapacity to understand logic. I always have a hard time to hold my laugh when it happens. Here is a sample of this hilarious situations, enjoy:

CPM = C-Prommers mom
CP = C-Prommer
Me = Me
(…) = my mental remarks
Me: I’m sorry ma’am, these are men’s fitting rooms.
CPM: But all of those junior’s rooms are occupied.
Me: Yes, ma’am, unfortunately these here are for men only.  I can show yo…
CPM: This is a joke! Where is my daughter supposed to try on the clothes then?
Me: (Up your ass!) Over there ma’am, if you keep on stra…
CPM: I’ve been here last year and tried on clothes there and there was no problem at all. While are you giving me such a hard time now?
Me: (Because you’re a bitch and I will do all I can to piss you off ) Well, I don’t know about that, I’m just following the store policy. I can show you where to…
CPM: This is bullshit.  – walks away -
CP: “remains completely silent because she’s using her mom as a weapon”. - follows mom -

In an event, I’ve come to actually say : MA’AM, this is like restrooms. If it’s occupied, all you can do is wait until it’s available. I doubt you go looking for a vacant toilet seat in the Gentlemen’s Room.

And it’s true!!! They would go crazy mad if there was a guy in the lady’s fitting room. Why do they think it can’t be the other way around? Just because you have tits it doesn’t mean they aren’t saggy and dreadfully unberable to be looked at. I mean, COME OOOON!!!

More of  “The Associate” later!

*NSFW – Not safe for work (oh come on, if you like them titties you should know this one!)

whole and happy

Dear Billy,

last night I thought a lot about all of those things we spoke not too long ago. I was driving home and all the beauty in the way hit the car like a big wave and flooded everything around and inside. I didn’t drown, I was simply suffocated.
It made me very happy to know that you were right about almost everything. You were always right about stuff, and you’re only 10. I hope to know how long I’ll live until I have the simple knowledge of a child. Sometimes I wonder if you’re really a child.
Anyway, remember the thing about the factories spitting clouds of steel on our cerulean sky, turning it Prussian blue? I felt the cold of its iniquity blinding God’s view of my face. So, for an entire minute, I was out of luck and out of heaven’s sight, which made me feel rather unprotected and scared. And what made me sad was the fact I looked at that wall of dirt and found it to look very handsome.  Some shades of yellow lights were hitting the bottom of its form and suddenly I felt like I was driving a spaceship in another planet far into the future.  The picture is stuck in my head and the shame of this contemplation makes me feel so weak and faint.

Pollution and self acceptance are very close right now. You used to say I was the mistaken in my own end, well, you were right again. I need to find the light path again, as I have been wandering and lurking far too long  in this shady place. I don’t need to strain to reach you again, all I’ll do is walk carefully because all you do is to be quiet and invisible.

red left ankle (last lines parody of red right ankle)

This is the story of the boys I loved so
Who I loved then and then again
And in return some would pin me to their souls
and carry me away to their own land

Once one of them made me believe
however later came the slits
and one of them wanted to hurt me more
dragged me from the desserts to the shores
This is the story of the boys I loved so

he said…

“I Secretly loathe you Openly
we are a vicious circle of starving artists”

- Ryan Knuteson

he said.

to color by color

blue
all is covered with blue
the feeble blue of your eyes
the snow and the ice
and the back of my hand

red
all is covered with red
crimson lips paused as frozen in time
the red of your dress, the mad of your blood
and the folds of my eyes
purple
all is covered with purple
spinning somewhere among the clouds
the purple on your hair, as punk as can be
and the bruises you left on me

yellow
all is covered with yellow
your temper’s near, attention and brakes
the lights at night, the wind of a butterfly
and the sun I carry inside

white
all is covered with white
blank pages of a letter you never will write
the dress, the booze, the nothing
and the everything I care for
black
all is covered with black
dark and secret and lonely and cold
the air you breath, the choices you keep
and the tears we shared now and ago

release

Whenever there’s something really bright inside your eyes, I simply know…
You’ve been traveling among the stars again. You can never keep your feet on the ground, here where you belong, here were you were born.

Sit back and listen to me: why would I want you to go so far to feel a bit of all when I can touch you with everything?

You do it anyway. Once or twice a week. You go out there, breaking the speed of light, breaking your bones and my heart, lost in thoughts, you slip right through between my fingers as you were made of soap… and colors.

How is it out there? Not that I want to know, but tell me how do you feel?
How have you been? What are these bruises? Meteors?

I just want to talk to you and listen to you. You never speak back, I wonder.

Last night there you stood outside my window. Your feet burried into the snow on the ground. Your eyes were glowing horribly, staring at me. I wanted to say something but you shook your head and walked away, walked… walked… ran… ran… vanished in the night.

I called for you out loud and the name I heard echoing back inside my ears was my own name.

Suddenly I was running out there in the snow, and I was terrified, lost, confused. I looked back at the window and there I stood, looking peaceful, smiling sweetly, breathing slowly. I knew it was coming again… all the pain, all the despair, all the confusion, loneliness, headaches, gastritis, dizziness, seizures, crying, fear, cold, bruises, panic, anxiety, madness, creativity, hurt, fright, anger, sadness, intoxication, alcoholism, blood and soul.

While I’m wallowing in self pity, the world is tumbling down to a lonely and ebrious end…
Close the door and stay inside.
No more, no more.