the sun will come up, and i'll go to bed
i've felt profoundly uninspired lately; there haven't been any images. it's true the cat is chasing a moth, and my roommate is sleeping on the deck (we seem to be rotating nights.), but there comes a time when the new becomes old and familiar, organically and gradually - (i miss the steep ascents and descents of never-heard-music), and the rebellion begins, this rebellion against the lives, images, places and feelings around me - the chaos is more remote, the people, somewhere, deeper, and all i really ask of this overwhelming friction is that it shoot me into outer space.
i quit my job yesterday, which is a start. a year and a half working in an office was more than enough to inform me i'll never work in an office again. the emptiness of my co-workers' existences passed belief. there's this image of a porcelain doll drawing a breath, possibly its last that i can't get out of my head. it has just fallen to the floor, and the troops are moving in. i'm going to move, but first, some unfinished business. in the meantime i suppose i'll earn rent money in a restaurant or some such banal establishment, anyplace with life, kicks, riot, a bit of night. somehow i'm going to be amused by my own ingenuity. don't be sore when i demand an applause.
it's quickly becoming purple autumn. the hieroglyphs of the wind and the emotion of the trees are a first-grade poem, uncorrupted. it was this time last year when i started writing in this space. i had no idea what i was going to do, and i've no idea what i've done. i do know i've learned much in the last year. each small truth uncovered has left an enormous imprint. of those there've been a few, and i'm grateful.
the epilepsies of desire have been tempered by the feeling of having one foot off the mediocrity of a manicured lawn and into something richer, deadlier, bigger and more abstract, but i miss the adolescent stalking of music, and bathing in the aftermath of these sterile looks and conversation only makes me thirstier for more, though not here, i don't think.
for now, these humble sentences will be brooding over a savage intention. please bear with me.
i quit my job yesterday, which is a start. a year and a half working in an office was more than enough to inform me i'll never work in an office again. the emptiness of my co-workers' existences passed belief. there's this image of a porcelain doll drawing a breath, possibly its last that i can't get out of my head. it has just fallen to the floor, and the troops are moving in. i'm going to move, but first, some unfinished business. in the meantime i suppose i'll earn rent money in a restaurant or some such banal establishment, anyplace with life, kicks, riot, a bit of night. somehow i'm going to be amused by my own ingenuity. don't be sore when i demand an applause.
it's quickly becoming purple autumn. the hieroglyphs of the wind and the emotion of the trees are a first-grade poem, uncorrupted. it was this time last year when i started writing in this space. i had no idea what i was going to do, and i've no idea what i've done. i do know i've learned much in the last year. each small truth uncovered has left an enormous imprint. of those there've been a few, and i'm grateful.
the epilepsies of desire have been tempered by the feeling of having one foot off the mediocrity of a manicured lawn and into something richer, deadlier, bigger and more abstract, but i miss the adolescent stalking of music, and bathing in the aftermath of these sterile looks and conversation only makes me thirstier for more, though not here, i don't think.
for now, these humble sentences will be brooding over a savage intention. please bear with me.
posted by liam at
11:30 PM
5 Comments:
Glad to see you back.
Change. I hear you loud and clear. I just got off the rode after eight hours of driving. Went back to Champaign...visited with a friend, stomped about old haunts, began working out the details of heading back, spending a year writing, getting back into school full-time...etc. Change.
I've been in an office for a year and a half now as well, and it's murder. Another six months and I'm outta there.
So I feel ya. You've nothing to lose. That's what I tell myself every time the nervous jitters wash over and try to convince me that my dreams are too outlandish to be embraced.
we always need change to feel alive again
and autumn, beautiful autumn! i make suer i step on all the leaves and hear the crunch
take care
first, thanks to everyone i've met that writes themselves around here. i feel fortunate to know you on some level.
chum - everytime you write now i think of a derided, misunderstood jesus.
yep, change... or progress as i see it.
banging out in the car, away, full-speed ahead sounds great and feels great, too. sounds like it was a great time.
thankfully i'm crazy enough to think my dreams are never too big, and an exciting nervousness does rush over when you realize somehow, someway you have to make things work.
thanks for reading.
prixie - autumn in the uk, eh. the closest i came to the uk tonight was an oversauced irish chap being denied drink.
yes, yes, fall's me favorite.
thanks for coming by.
Applause on standby.
ha.
word.
tanks for visiting.
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