Well, he's unaccomplished.

Just a little over a month to go for another milestone, and I'm a little worried. Same old shit, but on a different night. So what's the problem?

Take my guitar away. Take away the songs I've serenaded you with, and lulled you to sleep with. Take away the words I've written on blogs even I don't read, in magazines you've never even seen. Take away the pictures I've taken that nobody's seen, and the sights I've seen that you've seen too. Take away the nights we've spent talking over the phone, at the party, at your house, at my house. Take away the kisses blown, thrown, missed, caught and even those returned. Take away the dick I've been and the friend I haven't. Take away the smokes I've borrowed and lent, the flames shared. Take away the songs I've introduced you to, the movies I've forced you to watch, the books I've asked you to read (though you never did). Take it all away. And everyone I know is exactly the same as before.

Yes, I know.  I'm going to get some fresh air. Soon as I wake up. (Quite the metaphor, eh? Unintended (Good song).)

Observation

The worst part about standing in the vicinity of a fart is that you're breathing the air that came out of someone's ass.

How Things Get Fucked

Looking around at stuff in my life, and the lives of people I know, I made an observation. Such few things in life get majorly fucked all at once. Most things, they take time. They get a little fucked over a couple of weeks or months and suddenly you're wondering how they got so fucked up.

I have this table. A desk for my computer. And I clean it up every now and then, but mostly, it's crammed with stuff I don't need. Non-computer stuff. And I always wondered how it kept getting so damn messed up. So today morning, I cleaned it up again. Moved things around, threw some shit out. It's night and already I can find some stuff I put on it during the day that doesn't need to be here.

So that's what got me thinking. How all of these tiny things, they sneak up on you. You might just miss them if you're not looking. But there they are, every day, fucking your stuff up. Fucked up part is you only notice them when they get majorly fucked up. Before that, you're thinking, there's nothing wrong with this picture.

But time passes. And when time passes, it doesn't crawl. You think it does, but it doesn't. It flies. Straight past you and you won't even notice. You're too busy procrastinating. Overlooking shit that doesn't look so fucked up, but it is.

So here's what I've got to do. Look for the small shit. Clean it up while it's still small, manageable.

Now comes the hard part. Actually doing it.

Ladies and gentlemen, pardon my french. And my redundancy. But it's the only way I'll listen.

Easy Peasy

Sticking to your instincts

against "better judgement"

is hard.

Trying to belong

somewhere

is tough.

Finding a heart

to live in

is difficult.

Living a life

that matters

is hard.

Finding someone

to matter to

is tough.

Making a difference

to someone's life

is almost impossible.

Forgetting

that you really want all of that

is easy.

Single Life

I'm a poet without a rhyme,

a prisoner doing no time.

A singer without a tune,

I'm a year with no monsoon.

I'm a sentence with no verb.

I'm a writer with no words.

A man who's got no soul,

(brutal truth be told)

I'm a dick without a hole.

Let Me Explain...

You see, all of my body parts decided to have an election. They wanted to decide who was the most important body part of all, on my body. At first, they decided to go the democratic way and actually have votes cast in favour. But since they were the only ones voting, they each ended up voting for themselves. (For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why they simply didn't make a rule where they couldn't cast their vote for themselves.) Anyhoo, they then decided to ask me. They told me I could take my time, but I had to choose. I thought and thought and pondered for a bit, but it's so hard to choose. They all seem so important, how could I choose? But I just had to. So I picked my nose.

Early morning

3:23 AM

Struggling to sleep. Why is it that I only think of how much of an asshole (dick?) I am right now? I don't just mean that selfishly in that I'm trying to sleep and imagining how big an asshole (dick?) I am keeps me from sleeping. But also in that I should realise such a thing when I'm actually busy being an asshole (dick?). So I can actually do something about it.

But no, I gotta think of this right now, when I'm really trying to sleep. So I can wake up early tomorrow and wish my love the best for her test. I hope I don't get up late.

On a side note, anyone planning to visit KGAF?

3:27 AM

(P.S.: Don't trust what Blogger says. It's 3:28 now.)