The Turning Point of a Continual Spiral

Hey there, all...

So, I think I might take a small break of being on-line, just because I'm tired of being frustrated and paranoid. I have friends who don't talk to me, who I never see on because they're hiding (I'm hiding, too...maybe I should stop that), or hanging out with better people who don't think quite so much. I'm really sorry, but...I don't know *why* I think so much. It's not like I have too much time on my hands. Maybe it's a carry-over from a time when I didn't *have* any body, and that was all that I could do.

2 posted something to his LiveJournal that mildly disturbed me. He's talking about all of his friends who suddenly weren't there when he 'made' it, became famous and all that, because they assumed he was off doing something better. Well, 2, if you're reading this, I want you to know we're always here, and we've always been here. All you have to do is make the contact, which you haven't. I stopped trying to reach you because you *have* rejected my company on several occasions, and while I can't say I particularly blame you for that, there are other people who you haven't talked to in a while that you probably should. We're here, and we're waiting, and we're available. But it's you who has to make the next move.

And suddenly, I realize that I've been kinda doing the same thing.

People grow. People progress upwards, or downwards on the spiral. And as a result people change. I'd like to think that over the past few months I've changed for the better...I've stopped being such an angst-bucket, though my overthinking status does bring me a slightly pessimistic overtone to life. But most of all this change finds me growing away from the people who helped me get to the point where I am.

All in all, life is good. I have enough money, I have enough food, I'm buying Christmas presents for people for the first time in my life, and that feels really good. I'm seriously pursuing my dream as a writer, and once I'm in a larger city, I'll be seriously pursuing my dream as an actor. I feel like I'm finally *ready* to take off...but I find myself in a predicament much like 2. Even the cliff on the side of a mountain can be lonely.

SO what to do? Is this all in my head? Is there something that I could be doing to treat my fellow man better? I feel like I've treated friends like crap and now I'm reaping the rewards. Do I try and make amends to a suddenly hostile, apathetic populace? What do I say? "I was younger, then, I didn't know any better." I didn't. I was young, and stupid, confused and self-centered...and I still am a little bit, as the last vestiges of unconfidence and drama slip away. I'm ready to pursue a career finally, but it doesn't look like I'm ready to handle friends just yet. :P

Maybe my personality makes me a recluse. Maybe I'm one of those writers destined to alienate those people closest to him because he's too fucked up to deal with relationships, and'll die in the gutter with a whiskey bottle in one hand and a quill in the other. Maybe the telling point is that I've always found the lives of Hemingway, Poe and Hughes strangely fascinating and romantic. :P

I love too many people, and I have no idea how to keep them. Maybe some solitude is just what I need to break that last puzzle. Or maybe what I need is more companionship. There seem to be quite a few lonely people out there...any takers?

-David

The Turning Point of a Continual Spiral

Hey there, all...

So, I think I might take a small break of being on-line, just because I'm tired of being frustrated and paranoid. I have friends who don't talk to me, who I never see on because they're hiding (I'm hiding, too...maybe I should stop that), or hanging out with better people who don't think quite so much. I'm really sorry, but...I don't know *why* I think so much. It's not like I have too much time on my hands. Maybe it's a carry-over from a time when I didn't *have* any body, and that was all that I could do.

2 posted something to his LiveJournal that mildly disturbed me. He's talking about all of his friends who suddenly weren't there when he 'made' it, became famous and all that, because they assumed he was off doing something better. Well, 2, if you're reading this, I want you to know we're always here, and we've always been here. All you have to do is make the contact, which you haven't. I stopped trying to reach you because you *have* rejected my company on several occasions, and while I can't say I particularly blame you for that, there are other people who you haven't talked to in a while that you probably should. We're here, and we're waiting, and we're available. But it's you who has to make the next move.

And suddenly, I realize that I've been kinda doing the same thing.

People grow. People progress upwards, or downwards on the spiral. And as a result people change. I'd like to think that over the past few months I've changed for the better...I've stopped being such an angst-bucket, though my overthinking status does bring me a slightly pessimistic overtone to life. But most of all this change finds me growing away from the people who helped me get to the point where I am.

All in all, life is good. I have enough money, I have enough food, I'm buying Christmas presents for people for the first time in my life, and that feels really good. I'm seriously pursuing my dream as a writer, and once I'm in a larger city, I'll be seriously pursuing my dream as an actor. I feel like I'm finally *ready* to take off...but I find myself in a predicament much like 2. Even the cliff on the side of a mountain can be lonely.

SO what to do? Is this all in my head? Is there something that I could be doing to treat my fellow man better? I feel like I've treated friends like crap and now I'm reaping the rewards. Do I try and make amends to a suddenly hostile, apathetic populace? What do I say? "I was younger, then, I didn't know any better." I didn't. I was young, and stupid, confused and self-centered...and I still am a little bit, as the last vestiges of unconfidence and drama slip away. I'm ready to pursue a career finally, but it doesn't look like I'm ready to handle friends just yet. :P

Maybe my personality makes me a recluse. Maybe I'm one of those writers destined to alienate those people closest to him because he's too fucked up to deal with relationships, and'll die in the gutter with a whiskey bottle in one hand and a quill in the other. Maybe the telling point is that I've always found the lives of Hemingway, Poe and Hughes strangely fascinating and romantic. :P

I love too many people, and I have no idea how to keep them. Maybe some solitude is just what I need to break that last puzzle. Or maybe what I need is more companionship. There seem to be quite a few lonely people out there...any takers?

-David

Poem: Sluagh

The Muses have come, apparently.

This is about well, me choking on my art, and my hang-ups and desire for recognition. Loosely based on a Journey I've had recently.


Sluagh

See there?
Bloody fingers playing a piano
that nobody hears.
Black and white and red
all over.
You're not listening to anything
your friends have taught you,
too busy screaming silent murder
at the blank walls
to notice
you're choking, just the same
as you were before.
Black, distressed hair
white, frozen face
black thick lips of thin mascara
and white-stained teeth...
Who are you kidding?
Rock-star intellectual
thumping your Bible
for personal validation
all the while unknowing
of the ambition
that's sent you crawling
into your own asshole.
Inside, you know it,
there's a little black woman
beating at you
to find your soul,
which happens to be locked
in the back of an old Model T.
You know it.
You know it.
There's time to find recognition
later, she says,
Find yourself first.
Deep, deep inside, you know,
your soul is a set of car keys
you've left in some convenience store.
Are you comfortable with that?
It all depends on whether or not
you like the dark
and the light that comes with it.

-18.12.01