Eternity is Now

Attention Please.

Let us start off with one of those sirens. That time she moved her hair and looked at me.
Or let's start with the incident in the skies that you've surely missed. When everything was gold.

How about that time when I won the war against the ID Ego! And the days after that when everything seemed to make sense again.
Or the hour after that when I realized that it would never ever make sense. Not everything, anyway.

I could start from where I left off.. somewhere floating in space or looking for death on the horizon
or just someplace new and untouched..

But really, I don't think it matters where I start from because it all feels like now to me. Everything I wrote, said, thought- anything remembered! It all feels like now.
The thought went through me like an injection! Sharply and quickly, it intruded. Then silently it became accustomed to my body, making its way through holes that I've never felt..

I always thought of time as a sort of line that we were all walking along, balancing ourselves, and never able to turn around.
But then...

So softly, an image of me in time was painted in my mind and I realized something that I've always heard and said but finally I realized it. How we only exist in the now, never the past or future. Every experience we have is a current one and every memory of a "past" experience is a current one too because you can only remember in the present.

NEGLIGIBLE REALIZATION, I KNOW

but still.. in my mind I saw my world as a canvas and every experience that I lived through as just another spot filled. All my memories placed on a new blank spot, forming a completed painting that in the end would be called, "Ernon's Life."
I saw God hosting a gallery and my life's portrait up there being auctioned at a most amazing price to someone living wherever that just thought that everything I did and "was" was amazing and inspiring to them!
Quite blatantly, I was brought to joy from this simple thought.

I entertained myself with the idea that we are not walking in a straight line but rather being pushed and shaped around a canvas, waiting to see what we'll dry as..
entertained by the thought of being the controller of my personal illusion of time..

There you go again, boy.. rambling on and on again about stupid little nothings

But oddly, to me these realizations feel like nice little everythings.

"I wonder if my paintings and drawings have lives?
If so, I do believe that I should try my hardest to make their lives something beautiful."
and share them with anyone who has a heart capable of seeing them with.

So this is where I begin.

Nonsensical Title Pending

A thought hit me, not the first time of course, but this time I've illustrated it in my head completely..
Death is unfortunate.

At least, to me it is. Not just because of the "ah shit, I'm dead! What's next?" business or the "fuck, I hope the priest was kidding about that masturbation thing." It's actually far more simpler than that.

When I die it'll be without notice. That means..

'Shit, did not reply to that one person's blog!'
'Forgot to call up and wish my mum happy birthday again!><'
'Still never confessed to that one girl.'
'Forgot to wipe my hard drive of "garbage"!'
'Neeeever listened to my favorite band's album yet!!'

and let's not forget..

'all those people across the internet I talk to/talked to once/admired artistically/admired/etc will never know that I died, most likely.'

and that realization of incompleteness and anonymity after death just struck me as scary.




But back to more important matters!
I want to melt all my friends down and turn them into a neat inject capable drug and start shooting up because then I would be certain that they are actually moving towards my heart
and not the blasted shed in my head where I hide all the shit too broken to carry a long.

So let's just lift up our cups and toast on a good fight for our fellow Roses in the war with the sheep(pluralized).
And of course let's wish a pox upon the damn vagina for stealing the storks' business.

FACKYOU.iloveyou

O, Green Mind

I'm glad that the idea of recycling has finally caught on in the world. I've never been a fan of wastefully discarding things that still could function in another form, honestly..

So you should be able to imagine how delighted I was when I walked out of the Faust Ecstasy Recycling Agency with new memories, wrought with the sweetest moments ever experienced in all of mankind's history!

For ages now we've allowed our kin to simply die and rot in the ground, taking away with them all the moments they've shared and the feelings they felt. Faust Ecstasy has made it their dream to harvest these "thrown away" memories and recycle them into the minds of people who may need a little more flare in their minds when nostalgic and in the minds of people who seems to have allowed all the bad memories to overwhelm their few good ones.
Personally, I believe recycling is a great responsibility of ours that we should embrace and utilize to its utmost advantages and that goes for plastic, metal, semen, paper, children and our minds.
Throwing away these things carelessly could only result in an overflow of the discarded; junk piles and viscous memories in the air.

So I come to all of you today as a humble man blessed by precious moments not lived yet experienced; as a simple man who has lacked the embrace of some of the most truest love ever to kiss the Earth in all of time yet still possesses the qualia of the souls that did, to tell you that the recycling of minds is a beautiful concept whose only purpose is to preserve our already limited experiences for all the future generations to feel and experience.
Our minds are simply just sidewalks that we've been drawing on since we were kids..

And F.E.R.A. just wants to find you the perfect friend who can be there to help you color in the shapes.




Oh, I'm going to start a revolution from my bed
and make the Sun more enchanting and nostalgic than the Moon.


Goodnight.

Oh Darling..

You have her here, standing with you on the cold wet concrete of the old station
Asphyxiated by you stare, by your charm..
You can't help but stare at the subtle pink hue of her lips, slightly parted, longing for embrace
and you do it.
You embrace- a collision right before these train tracks
and it was painful.
So very painful, as she pressed into you as if to rip your head off..

But you love this pain-
you love this closeness
and damnit,
you might even love her.


But the music stops and by the conductor's cues, you realize the place you're at
and the time you have left..
Give her one last kiss to the forehead.
Perfect.
Now gently rub your hand across her cheeks.
The train siren sings its song
And her fingers dig in deep, holding you closer than she should
Her voice breaks halfway through as you both part, "I loved you.."
Now calmly say your words.. calmly now-
"Oh darling.. You do lack the will to let go, now don't you?"

"Operator, my system has done lost its mind."

End.

God, today was weird.
Conductor.. forget the finale, this story ends here.

This Stork is Funny Colored. [wtfblack?]

This drug is sacrosanct.

Such a build up of work in the life of I; school's finally picking up and smothering me in it's chores.
..But I asked for this, now didn't I?




Ugh.
Ugh.
Ugh.


When will I learn that simply making eye contact with this cat won't make her love me?
That my thoughts are purely my own and no matter how much I want it to happen
You can't read me..
You can't hear me..
You don't know me.


but I'm alright. Like a wave, another moment, another day will sweep by and maybe I'll get on the board and decide to ride back to the shore with you then. You promise?



Earth's no place for lovers anymore!
So fly to to the sun with me, baby, let's fly to the sun..

There goes my hero..

asjkdlas;kl.
you don't say?

SOMEONE HELP!!
I'm afraid of falling clouds.

So anyways, I've been thinking about our little fascination with drilling up through the skies. There's stars, planets, asteroids, dinosaurs and comets up there, twinkling silently by themselves in the darkness!
And we're little astronauts, building little spaceships to sail through space,
all in the name of meeting these pretty places and keeping them company.
But wait!

We've missed something- something important
Important?
IMPORTANT! fuck.

We can't hug stars from spaceships. What sort of human goes to a lonely soul without arms to hug them with? Unable to kiss? Unable to shake hands! We're locked in little space-boxes soaring through God's fuzzy navel like the little geniuses we are and yet we forgot to bring arms big enough to hug with.
Too sad.

Well besides the foolish mistakes we all make in unison, let's talk about the mistakes I make individually.
Or the non-mistakes I made..
but would non-mistakes be a mistake? Because I've failed to fail, therefore I've made a mistake in not making mistakes.
Which I suppose is wrong, right?
Hmm.


It's parents weekend here, or something like that, and mines came over for a bit. We chilled for a quick minute and they left back to their hotel for the night. I'm still not sure how things are supposed to unfold for this weekend. What to do, etc etc.
Most likely I'll just chill and think like I normally do
think about things like astronauts riding in trains or ant empires
how perfect that one person walks
how interestingly silly and cute that other person's eyes and face are
or about you scruffy cats.

Whichever one though, I'll be thinking for sure.


What an odd fellow! That boy there. He puts on a suit and hat, at 8 in the night.
But he has no job.
No girl to date.
No funeral to attend.
This boy dresses up at 8 in the night and walks over to a bench and sits. Just sits, sketching god knows what.
Does he not know that nobody can even tell how well put his clothes are when it's so dark?

Sounds like a silly boy, that's true
but don't you think that maybe he does have a job-
Maybe he does have a date-
Maybe he is mourning at a funeral

Maybe he is doing something rather important at that bench right now in the bountiful fields of his mind. Attending a funeral, running through the fields with his love, fueling a memory or building a dream. Maybe right now instead of sitting at a bench he's on a rocket ship, three hours from Mars, planning to crash land into the Queen's bedroom, or he's trying to think of all the silly things he'd put on a silly planet if he only had 6 days to do so.


And we are sitting here, watching him, wondering what the hell he is doing.. and he's out there dancing on Mars with penguins, Zeus and her. I don't know about you sir, but I'd be sitting there on that bench with him if it meant that I could
see what he sees. Feel what he feels. Her what he hears, and dance.
Just fucking dance. and sing. and cry, even when we're happy, just because we can.

But still, I agree. He's a pretty weird cat, that boy. Because he's wearing jeans with that suit.




orly?



But really now
This buggy blogger is pissing me off to no ends.
For it changes the font sizes on its own will. (I chose Smallest size, Georgia, for this and the first thing I wrote was undercased.)
Sincerely,
Your name.

Avenging the Lamb

So I've come across a not-too-unfamiliar idea.
It's for me to start being less pathetic.
From physical aspects to emotional; it all has to be improved upon
Changed
Rearranged
and jettisoned even.
I'm going to eat better at my three scheduled meals, regardless of my contempt with the food, for the sake of my health
and I am going to exercise a bit in my own privacy whenever appropriate.

I'm already taking artistic steps forward but I am still holding myself back, obviously. I will take more chances from now on-
especially with mixed media since I've always been reluctant to actually pull different 'non artistic' media and items and combine them together in an aesthetically appeasing way. Paper machete, old items and fabrics, dead animals- whatever the situation calls for I will make an effort to overstep my 'expected' boundaries and make something good for once.
I am too wrapped in concepts. Few times have I ever finished anything. Not even that redundant artist's line where 'nothing I ever make is truly ever finished.' As true as that may be, I mean rather generally, nothing I make is anywhere near done. Getting the color, composition, texture and all the elements and principles and combining them all in an art piece is something I'm not too adept at. Well I need to fix that..

And fix I will!

From my body, to art and now to my mind

I can't make any promises just yet but I will make more of an effort to escape this disgusting shell of mines and interact a bit more. Talk a bit more, stop holding my tongue. As far as I see it, I should stop worrying about the feelings and thoughts of other people, as predictable as they may be, because all it is doing is hindering me from making a move on anything. If someone wants to take offense to something I say or think of me as an idiot for a not-so-funny joke then they can bear the wrinkles from frowning on their own. As annoying as it may be for me, I'm going to take my chances to talk for once and only give half a shit for what is going on through the other person's head.
I'd get my thought out and still be giving half a shit more attention to the other person's easily readable tell-signs than normal people give; so all would still be pretty well, more or less.

Let's see what happens!

Maybe I'll fuck up and not do a thing, huh?

Or maybe I'll do it all perfectly and just end up screwing up something else in the process.
Either way...

Something's going to break and hopefully something will grow!

But whichever one happens, I'm still going to have to eat such a depressing meal 2-3 times a day.



Oh dear.