its too easy sometimes, sundays.

So I was thinking I dont know how to fucking get there. I dont know where I am half the time, as you tell me as frequently as I am called to give directions, which you call instructions. Those differences between us seem to widen with the times.

Last night the rain made it feel like a production, intense, loud music, subtext beneath the subtext. I hate the word epic, and every time you use it, it makes me think of failed bohemian revolutionaries, Barnes and Noble parking lots and the misnomer rebellion.

I suppose intense is the best word. There wasnt a time to express it last night, but I am constantly surprised by our interactions. I thought complicated was the best possible word, and I meant it with the best of intentions. Someone called me fascinating once, with the condition that they would stray away from the oft-mentioned "unique". They were right on with that one. They should have said, contrary, moody, above all RUDE. But these were better times and the memory is more forgiving than the characters we have killed off.

I had no idea I meant so much to you, or you feel that you can share so much of yourself. I feel like I hardly know you at all. And that dichotomy in a relationship seems so indicative of my future. I miss so much most of the time. I suppose it is all those walls I am constructing. You would think with all the time I spend inside myself I could make myself a better person. But now I think I am the best possible version of myself. Whatever that means, I will continue to be this person regardless of the changes I feel are necessary.

half remembered and probably unimportant

thinking about how we met by chance, with some shared interests and a love of dance. how far we've come. how far i've gone. but back to destroy my disposable brilliance and my primitive internet left on scraps that you saved for me. i love that you never threw away what other would rightly call trash. expectation and integrity making their way in the distorted pathways of an early morning drunk brain chemistry. we mentioned the take-offs and landings and the blessed in-between that comprise our decisions and our smiles for miles. now stuck in a moment i am torn between all kinds of adjectives and the urge to wallow. you remind my so much of mother sometimes my affection for you seems ironic. but i love you more than i ever loved her it seems although that probably isn't accurate. this day will get me through the years. and that is good enough.

too much has happened in too short a time. i worry about the arrangement of the lines, instead of the theme sometimes. but c'est la vie and on and on.

the path of discovery is littered with cigarette butts and beer bottles

the minerals in your body
that comprise your jewelry
an interesting propostion
when i brought you home
i think you felt alone
when you took me to your house
i didnt know
what to do with my hands
or that taste in my mouth
bodies-under the covers
under the bed
the words-out of my mouth
leaving my head
plan on disappointment, mark it on your calendar
coffee and beer
waking up
passing out
next to you
dinner and cable television, an empty bottle of wine
passes for a good time

i dont think this is codependency but victims never do
the chemicals...
in your body
that comprise your personality


why dont you find out for yourself- i dont understand human relationships. the bridge between hemispheres, the bering strait of the brain as it were(corpus collosum) has sutured this innate sense of self, the I, causing all kinds of reactionary thought processes based on the stimulus and interest of others beings, similarly plagued. those who "read" these blogs often why the vocabulary or obscure quasi scientific metaphors. i am this boring, even more so but right now i dont feel like journal entry year of 1992 with incomplete sentences sometimes lacking in verbs or subjects. i cant just say names, dates yield experience. last night i learned alot my life and lives of those who want to be in my life, and it was awe inspiring. perhaps exercise, lack of sleep and complete honesty in myself has yielded this radical shift in my perception of what i want and more/most importantly, how to get it. i figured out that any place i dont use my cellphone because everyone and everything i require is already present is a good indicator. i dont know about happiness, but i am beginning to understand satisfaction. it isnt sex drugs or MTV but rock n roll is integral part of it.

just sitting thinking, about what people are like at work when they are at a restaurant having a good time, what the staff will do when they get off, what the loud mouthed red necks really think and believe rather than bottom shelf tequila and sugar coming out of their pores. trusting the (in)sincerity of the things people tell me, what full disclosure is and mainly what a nice night it was to sit, distance observe life rather than be just another player with bad dialouge and a worse wardrobe.

a rhinestone bible belt

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enough

some people seem to have situational depression and dont do anything to remedy it. i feel that if they just knew that if they stopped looking for things that uspet them, maybe happiness would replace that. bad things will also find you, but why should anyone make it easier. oh well, it seems that no matter how much you love people, or the frequency in which you do so, destruction is so much easier. and we all love easy.

i dont expect anyone to change with me. the experiences that have led me here many would overlook or repress. i dont want to lose the people in my life that have helped me but i dont want to be stagnant because they are them and i have not myself anymore.

The world doesn't change itself. What did great expectations ever do but bore us. Good intentions and academic degrees didn't ever change our world.
The Rapture is for procrastinators. Im going up now!!

sometimes in the journey to the center or perceived center of your mind, you start to lose the baggage that often informs people "just how long you are staying, and where you have been". who am i to presume a non-linear collection of experience and imagination? it is possible for the collective unconscious to have multiple passengers arrive at different destinations. things as paradoxically fleeting and permanent as notes both musical and post it dictate the cold sobriety that we all fall into. when you have found someone who can tell the difference between a 45 and all the implications therein for violence and records, cross overs, overlaps and covers. the constant narrative of the day to day to year to nostalgia and back again in one extended saturday afternoon. the illusion of accomplishment and its whoring girlfriend, failure, shows up like bills and stds. oh if one could only be prepared for their own life and thus every body else's. until then, the lyrics and half forgotten poems of our academic endeavors serve as the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there is something more in everything and everybody is capable of learning the chorus, if not bullshiting the symbolism.

now that i've met you

things have been strange lately. mostly self induced misery and quotable quotes. lately i have been seeing nice things in the world and it is adjusting the perception i maintain to others. i keep seeing people smile at me, hearing jazz music, music festival vacations. i wrote a short story i will post later, if you are interested and even if you arent. the night is younger than we are and there is plenty of trouble to make before bed. drinks to pound, egos to be fed.

the submarines - peace and hate
wilco - far, far away
the thermals - when i was afraid
death cab - grapevine fires
mountain goats - no children

thinking about you, and i think of the strokes, bogo cigarettes, driving all night, the lack of fighting, tag teaming, music, dreams before our endorphin receptors are as dead as our icons, heroes, rivals. the ever revolving "too soon" jokes, you, the P.R./attorney to my Robert Downey Jr. episodes. christ, i miss you. but i am just glad you are there, and you are my friend. in all the seriousness i can muster in a mid day drunk,

your friend,
Erin "Wildely Inappropriate" Tuzuner