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Betty Blue

Too Good

"If you're too good to yourself, you're not good to anyone."

~~~ Found on eSnips.com, at Tommi's page.

Philosophy

"Philosopy is for people who give a shit...! Reality is for people who deal with shit!"

~~~ found at eSnips.com, on Mighty Jah Freakshow

update # 28 (anxiety attack of sorts)

this is not for the faint of heart. this is an entry from a period of time in my life that was especially difficult - one of many, but also one of many long ago. i'm glad to say that fortunately (and thru a lot of work) i am not the same person, i'm at a different place. simply put: i am happy. i share this because perhaps someone reading it might understand themselves better, might be helped by it.

ok, so i guess i am having an anxiety attack of sorts. it is not an accelerated heart rate, but it is a nervous panic, and it is not enjoyable. it is a far cry from joy. i took a hot shower, and had a beer to calm myself down. now i feel a little better. i thought maybe writing my feelings of this experience down might help, at least it will serve as a reference for dealing with this as soon as possible – professionally – because this cannot continue. i guess this is the nature of an anxiety attack: your mind and body race through thoughts and memories, and whatever. it is certainly nervous energy, and it’s fucking hell. HELL! i’m kinda alright for now. it helps to write and think this through. but it is really crazy this process that my mind takes. i really don’t know what it is, or what irks it on, or why i keep having it happen to me sporadically, over and over, every so often, sometimes every minute, and others every few years. i don’t know if it’s mental, physical, i don’t know if i cause it or it comes on for other reasons. maybe god doesn’t have anything else to do: god knows he’s read every book in his house and seen every movie ever made, so what else is there to do? but i don’t wish what happens to me upon anyone. really. it’s terrifying. all i wish is for IT to be over, to be OVER, to END and NEVER COME BACK. EVER!!

ok, so this is ‘anxiety’. i don’t know. i just don’t know why or what comes over me. one minute i’m fine – kind of! – and the next, shit, i’d rather he dead. really what happens by the minute is mood swings, but what happens every few years is a severe depression, or utter confusion and sense of loss of meaning or value. i mean it: THIS is such a dark, dark place. it is so lonely, it is endless, it is deep, it is terror, it is HORROR. why am i like this. WHY? what have i done to deserve this. oh, see, now i’m feeling sorry for myself and i hate that. I HATE THAT. i think that’s part of why i am like this, in terror; maybe because i feel sorry for myself, and angry, and have done so over the years. maybe i have closed the world outside. i see it out there, and i stay away. this is a big part, that’s for sure, the fact that i am so afraid of what’s out there that i don’t reach out for it, even if i see that it’s good! and even if it’s not, THIS IS THE WORST THING so out there couldn’t possibly be worse. right? yeah, whatever.

so this is what happened. i sat watching nypd blue, the cop soap opera, which i quite like. it, and northern exposure, aside from public television, are the only shows i watch. so i rushed through my cleaning jobs to make it home on time. i did. i made myself some ramen noodles soup, and laid on my bed watching this episode, which actually isn’t very good. slowly, IT creeps over me. i am not really concentrating on the show anymore because thoughts come in and out of my head, and it worsens and quickens when i catch myself unable to concentrate on the show. NERVOUS ENERGY. why? yes, i have worries and hopes and dreams, concerns, wishes JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE! but why do i experience THIS?!

this is what i feel: i feel so alone. my head is a dark and terrible place to be – mainly, when i’m in this situation. this dark and gloomy shit hole. so i begin to shift and adjust in the bed, and contemplate the scenario of what i would experience, of what will happen if i freak, if this mood indeed escalates to out-of-control proportion: that place where i might stay, and not return – either by or not by my own choice. this worries me. i wish to be someone that can handle a bad BAD space, not the person i am that right away worries for his life. jesus! ‘it’s just an anxiety attack,’ i tell myself. ‘yeah, but why does it have to come back to me over and over?’ there i was, watching a tv show, one that i like. sure, it wasn’t the greatest episode of the greatest show ever. so what?! not everything has to be enjoyable, beautiful, deep and interesting, creative, stimulating... i mean life is not like that and i know that!!!! BUT for no apparent or immediate reason, this looming hysteria comes to haunt me. anyway… so, yeah, i tell myself ‘what if you stay there, get stuck in this basement of fear and apprehension (actually, there are no accurate words to describe this place, and no cost worth enough to rent it; worse yet, to own it!), and what if you experience this for the rest of your life, however long? what if it keeps coming back even sporadically?’ yeah, you see, i would rather... well, it just terrorizes me, paralyzes me even to think that it will return just once again when i am 146 years old for 12½ minutes. i mean, i do not look forward to it. i’m starting to drift, let me get back on track here.

really. i just am afraid to enter this dark place because i am afraid of what i will do to myself, even though when i am not directly in it i see that it ends, i see the beauty in life, i even experience profound joy. BUT, when i am in it, in its murky depth, i cannot see or think of any consequence but death. and that, to say the least, SCARES me. when i am fine i think of death also, but only theoretically, philosophically, like one thinks of hot soup on a winter night, or the pondering of an ant in the fog (nothing like a little comic relief. life is so ironic! poetic justice?).

i just don’t think i have the strength to live long. i always thought i would die young, and the cause would ultimately be because of me, because i was crippled inside – but not by my own hand. i am not normal that way. i am perhaps a coward, walking chicken shit. (humor for the dying?) ok, let’s face it, i simply don’t know what i am! for instance, in this instance i am fine; and for this micro-millisecond i can say i am never sure about any thing: am i happy? am i going after what i want, and do i even know what it is? what is my definition of god? am i a good person, a responsible person, do i love, am i strong, am i stupid, dependable, sincere, am i confused (ha ha!), do i eat well, have i fucked up in life, do i love my father and mother and grandparents, and friends, am i connected to anyone, do i believe in sin (yes, in particular when i am scurrying for my life; striving to live another normal minute, the taste of death in my mouth!!), or am i also afraid of death???

yes, i know, everything changes constantly, even morals, but somehow nothing is consistent for very long with me, and THAT is a fucking shame–a promising could-have-been, with very good intentions: like his well-meaning father. boy, if i could have my father’s conscience i think i’d be happy, or at the very least sufficiently content! yes, it’s at times like these that i envy his developed, perhaps inherited, talent for detachment! i don’t know, but maybe that is a major issue; it’s indeed alarming to think that maybe the fact that i see my incredible potential but lack the courage to do anything about it, and instead i opt to sulk in conscious pity of my choice to remain much less than my abilities. hmm, i think i’d be half alright if my pity was at least subconscious – perhaps like my dad, and the rest of the world, or certainly most of it! is lack of ambition, determination, and a limited capacity for love, commitment, and responsibility a hereditary trait to be found smack in the middle of an unfortunate gene, contained in a random pool of dna?!?! again, alarming, but too broad for this essay. i’d rather be rid of any spiritual connection or high aspiration, and be a simple person who’s happy, but, then again, of course i’d rather not. besides, i think i’m doomed for eternity, stuck with this body and this soul – very respectable, indeed, but not fun!!!!!!!!! (perhaps I’m even envied, but what do those few shallow ones really know?) uhh, maybe i feel a great responsibility to the world – and to MYSELF – to prove to them some thing, to change something, to teach some thing. apparently, i’m full of shit, but even of THAT i am not sure. MORE HUMOR. but in this present hell there’s a paradox: what i am experiencing is sad but funny… pretty pathetic, huh? though i see the potential of humor in death, it is not funny when it stares you straight in the face and stimulates your taste buds. it winks at you, tickles your sides, brushes your hair. it makes me want to throw up your inside, and begin anew. alas, that’s too simple. enough with this sorry attempt at prose, and on with the story!

i am a simple person, i think. maybe i'm a deep, thinking person, but still simple. even my art is not very deep; beautiful, maybe, but not ‘DEEP’. can i accept that? can i accept myself? am i a very scared puppy? to all these questions I answer a fatigued and profound “I DON’T KNOW!!!”. well, what do you know, you stupid idiot, at least you could accept that you are a simple, scared, stupid, shameful son, and be done with it. and LIVE! (you might look into the previous sentence and read too much into the word SON, but i assure you all those words began with ‘S’ so… but of course I’M NOT REALLY SURE!). LIVE, simpleton, just live!

that‘s when hate myself (well, i hate myself almost all the time, if not always): when i can’t even tell when i speak the truth. oh that sentence is hysterical, really! here i am talking to myself and i CAN’T EVEN TELL IF WHAT I AM WRITING IS TRULY ME! that’s just pathetic, man. i mean, this is pretty damn funny when you think about it. it’s one thing to be unsure if you’ll make it to the bus on time, or that your boss will approve of your project, or if this tie looks good with this sock, or even if your date will like you, BUT not to be certain about ANYTHING at all about YOURSELF – your own SELF?????!

“mr. fried, this is definitely a problem. and i feel sorry for you. no kidding.”

“ok, the know-it-all, higher, wiser and experienced mr. fried… ok, what are you going to do with your lower self now. will you help him know more, or will you continue to ridicule , to watch him trip over himself? actually, i didn’t think you had it in you to be so cruel. i thought you rather kind and warm, at least, most of the time – almost all of the time. you know, if there’s one thing i’ve preached consistently about you it is that you are sensitive; you know, you pick up others’ feelings, their moods, you know, that you have great insight into people, etc. etc. etc. and now, well, i see you are no different than all the people i have ever disliked greatly, and all rolled into one: the BETTER side of mr. oded fried.”

“what a great couple you two make. good luck! well, maybe you should know (and you can be certain this is straight from the almighty): you two should just go ahead and fornicate, you know: MAKE LOVE. fuck each other in the ass, deeply, deeply, and be done with it! then, and forever, you won’t have to spend your whole life fighting your own self. god knows, i mean, uhh, umm… i mean, i know you’ve spent half your life doing that, sowhat use is it, tell me? where has it gotten you? and maybe, just maybe, you are the ones causing yourselves to have a hard time in the first place – even anxiety and depression, and i repeat, ANXIETY and DEPRESSION.”

“well, as grandma used to say: ‘from your mouth to God’s ears!’ ehh... this is the lower self, again. really, it frightens me to think… really, really REALLY scares me to think that anxiety and depression are not caused by me – solely by choice, i mean. oh, GOD, it paralyzes me to envision and feel that this gloomy feeling will come back to grasp me, haunt me, play with my fucking head! shit. REALLY!!! this is no joke, no joke at all! it scares, as they say, the living daylights out of me. i panic when it registers in my brain that i am freaking!”

“well, there you have it, young man.. .being that i spoke, and being that i also AM god, and therefore have god’s ears, i can assure you: they are BIG! therefore you and your wonderful, beautiful grandmother can both be certain: i have heard! enough already!!! best wishes, young man. now go pop in a video, watch a good movie, and go to sleep, and, oh, take your higher self with you! after all, even the genius can come down to earth once in a great while.”

“i heard that! and i’d like to say that I have been here, down HERE, on earth! i’m waiting, just waiting for you two to finish whatever nonsense it is you’re talking about, and start the darn movie!! jeez! i’m dying to find out what’s happened since we last watched it. and, uh, oh yeah, don’t forget the popcorn.”

i’ve been writing for an hour and 3 minutes, non-stop. that’s enough. i feel slightly better.

easier to fall asleep

it's easier to fall asleep
then to stay awake and talk about it
i wanna give you everything i can
i wanna make your dreams come true
baby believe me, i won't hesitate to take a chance

anytime you think i can change the world
and make ourselves a better place
if there's anything you want, anything you need
i promise i will do my best for you, for us

sometimes worries fill up your head
they live between your words, take up your energy and time
make you toss and turn in bed

can i help you clear your mind
well the only way to know it is if you tell me
what's eating you up inside
i know i can make a difference in your life, in our life. ~~~

fears, they linger

i’m not sure what it is but it grasps me from inside
it tears at my catacombs and leaves me blind.
i ache of emotions that i fathom from afar
and struggle as i might the distance only grows.
“ time heals everything,” i was told long ago
and so now also i still believe.
but sometimes i get stuck and so do the
minutes and the hours that are in front of me.

when will this end, when will all this end…
when will i be in control of myself?
when will this end, when will all this end…
when will i make the choices i need to make?

i understand things on an intellectual level
but there are reasons and causes that are other,
and i feel so afraid when i don’t understand:
it’s like pulling the ground right from under me.
i sip on chamomile and i think to myself
that the ground i walk is fragile anyway:it’s
like walking a tightrope but not being able to see
that you yourself are the one who’s holding it up ;
at any moment, upon your command, the rope
will loosen and you would tumble to the depths…

fears are as real as you make them out to be:
they linger like grease marks on your newest jeans.
fears are as real as you make them out to be:
they linger like dead leaves on a windless street.

and, these fears and pressures you reel for
yourself are but a few long days and lonely
nights that have already passed you by anyway. yes!
thus a void is created that entraps all my fears,
and there i lay dumbfounded, numb
and ill with a restless fatigue.

fears are as real as you make them out to be:
they linger like garbage in a subway car.
fears are as real as you make them out to be:
they linger like mildew in a basement flat.
fears are as real as you make them out to be:
they linger like droppings on your windshield.
fears are as real as you make them out to be:
they linger like snowflakes on your tv screen.
fears are as real as you make them out to be:
they linger like sulfur in your ashtray.
fears are as real as you make them out to be:
they linger like sex stains on your mattress.
fears are as real as you make them out to be:
they linger like bad breath. ~~~

you can tell

you can tell a man by the way he walks, the treads of his shoes or the soles of his worn-out feet. the late darkness of the hour grips the city as he walks his usual route home. it rains lightly and he steps through muddy puddles onto the pavement of lombard st. the death of night surrounds him. damp. philadelphia is caught in a rare quietude, and his overcoat is filled with a weight of momentary pride. it is residue of the day’s treasures, tucked into the lining of the leather, and whining softly. tomorrow he won’t weigh so much…or so he promises. the nervous silence is stunted with echoes of scorn: sarcastically gratuitous, respectful. ~~~

w i n d

yes, yes…
there was a house on the hill
and it had 1 small wall missing
inside the man always lay still except
when
the
w
i
n
d
came blowing in. ~~~

except this time

people with ideas, morals and values, well thought, through and through, and even perhaps tested every now and then. they stand for their convictions and take stands for their beliefs, refined and objective, insatiably scrutinized, examined and reexamined, then examined again for further assurance, absolvement. now they believe that they really believe, comprehend, and function with exemplary style. oh, the finesse with which they preach their sermon, the verses sounding and echoing in the thin crust ebbed in the marrow of their bone.
and, then, there is conflict. a struggle. doubt arises from the bleak surface of uncertainty. an irrevocable doom. fermented turmoil. reorder is in order. the undeniable plausibility of the invisible truth has shown its eternal face. renunciation is the slight difference between bliss and despair, heaven and earth - real and imagined. an inversion to the invocation. and the storm is now in full swing. crash!
these people…they live in a house, and on the porch, adjacent to the front door, is a sign that reads ‘welcome, anytime,’ and when one gladly pulls on the screen door, there is another sign that reads ‘except this time.’i wonder if i belong to their society. sure, but i don’t even live in a house. and if i did i wouldn’t have any signs. and if i did i would not hang them up. and if i did i would not post them on the porch. i would put them high above the roof, hovering over the tiles, dangling from the clouds just below the sky. ~~~

Dove Evolution Parody

Very very funny take on the profound original Dove movie. This is brilliant - and sad.

Dove Eolution

This is so so telling of our world. amazing!

you looked so contrite

today i slept and woke in the middle of the night
all i heard was the ticking of my blasphemous clock
it was black and darker than all my reasons to believe
that you could ever be capable of doing this
now it's noon, the sun has not yet appeared
all its woes gently propose to the wind while below
the ants with their treads and their mills spend
their time counting cracks in the walls and the sky
i've not much to say the irony of this scene
leaves me cold i regret only giving my ears second best
you would say i rendered you foolish and proud
but you were the one who held the sword in her hand
though we hastened to quarrel
i never imagined you'd leave
there were two candle holders a blue telephone
and a blind parrot we got from steve
you wore your overcoat
god you looked so hopeless so contrived
you shouted in rage until the green of your eyes
dimmed and died then you picked up your bag
threw your key and as you left you closed the door
i thought you looked so contrite
it's just a theory but it helps me look really good
i once thought i was attractive but that was many
many many arguments ago when i wasn't so cynical
i still consider myself an optimist but my prescription
is a little stronger it's like getting a dose of happiness
when your mind is asleep while your limbs are immobile
your bones are walking a desert and it's snowing
and you are pale
--- la la la's
i'm glad i have my music though it sometimes holds me
back the notes disperse and i'm left clinging to an
ancient faded idea it isn't anything i can clearly define
but mixed with your scent in the room i was a wet silent
speck of dust you would sharply sweep with your broom
that was then now i must rest from the battle that ensued
it was long it was prone it was stale you were too pretty
and you possessed a one-chambered heart now i see you
reeked of talent and wit but you'd never learn to be smart
though we hastened to quarrel
i never imagined you'd leave
there were two candle holders a blue telephone
and a blind parrot we got from steve
you wore your overcoat
god you looked so hopeless so contrived
you shouted enraged until the green of your eyes
dimmed and died then you picked up your bag
threw your key and as you left you closed the door and waved goodbye with an open palm
i thought you looked so forlorn
now it's different i'm just not as light as i used to be
and it strikes my fancy to find difficulty recalling your
name from my memory or your favorite culinary dish
or the length of your hair and the way you
brushed your teeth the type of books you read
or the signs you showed when you were tired
your laughter still seems to follow me in the street
i wave it off and i look at the trees
they hold a part of the bliss i want to breathe
--- more, very specific la la la's ~~~

if you loved me, really

There's no denying
my head's in a whirl
you got me spinning round and round
Like to think it's different
that you miss me, and you know
that every moment you keep away
adds another brick to the wall between us
If you loved me, really
You couldn't help but have to see me—now
Well, I'd be lying
if I said it didn't hurt
I mean it's even troublesome to try to sleep
Wish it was different
that you knew for certain you wanted 'us'
and that the time you've taken to be apart
is not equal to losing a chunk of my heart, forever
If you loved me, really
You couldn't ever live without me—so
You know that it's the
little kid in me that's crying
weeping cause it's a little uncomfortable
Wish I didn't feel stuck
while you're taking your time making up your mind
in your air-conditioned Upper East Side apartment
knowing I'm stuck in Queens with the heat and the cat and noise in my head
If you loved me, really
You wouldn't cause this pain in my life
I'm being facetious, of course
When I put this blame on you (completely)
After all it was I who recommended
You take your time while you're sorting out
Your life and said that I'd be here
With open arms & a smile and a warm embrace, ready, waiting
If you loved me, really
You could hardly wait to kiss me so
I guess my expectations proved me wrong
They popped out of nowhere (those menacing things!) to remind me
Yes, to prove to me that I had them,
not necessarily denied but hidden, slightly suppressed,
they shouted in unison that I was still utterly human,
that this time my excuse was love
If you loved me, really
Perhaps you would do exactly what you're doing. ~~~

you were

You are worth so many words
But none would be enough to describe you
You are in most of my thoughts
You were the one who brought me so much joy
Through your companionship
I was able to dream of building a bright future
What have I done
To make you turn on us and run
You were the one who opened my eyes
Yes, I was already close to falling asleep
You awakened in me desires
I long ago traded in for a shallow ease
Disjointed, I walked through life
Oblivious to the happiness available to me, the spirit deep inside me
What did I say
To make you turn and walk away
You were so genuine, beautifully courageous
You taught me to embrace opportunities given me
Perhaps it was your own honesty
That drew you away from me
Cause it didn't make it easy to sit still
When your mind is occupied your body resists
And your heart for a moment knows not how to beat
So you give in to what you do not really wish
How did I act
That made you lose this fact
I wear my heart on my sleeve
That's the way I've always lived
And it was difficult for you to see
I wanted to give and share and be
All that I could with you, with us, with me
Guess it was my strong love
That scared you off
Or maybe you simply never were in love with me.
Too bad for both of us: the potential was great. ~~~

limbs

Liquid frames
hosting pictures of wishes
hang suspended in a space sometimes
understood to be desire,
remnants of extreme pleasure and joy,
eager to burst not quite so defiantly:
these are my limbs
for now, only. ~~~

words

words are harmony
sometimes dischord
rising, wavering,
in tune, yet out of key,
rushing, slightly audible
sometimes sincere
other times, invincible
words could kill
a feeling
like the one i'm afraid to have
but cannot live without. ~~~

if ever you should leave

if ever you should leave
take my eyes with you:
the tears will drown me
and spill through the open window
gliding over the neighbors'
and onto the crowded city floor, down into hollow gutters;
it will then swell upward
over towering buildings toward the sky
until the fire of the sun is contained
in this, an ocean of sorrow
that measures in memories
a lifetime.
or a moment. ~~~

tonic lips

Soft sound blanket of Mingus jazz
Newport tongue, Victoria's Secret thong
Evening gown, and not an unfamiliar dawn
Sea-saw sound of a clear syne wave alarm
Half wholes, Infant souls
Late night embrace
Mellow Gold bathroom tiles,
Tub slightly slanted on strong and stirdy brass legs
Inviting bubble bath syndrome
The clock's languid tick tock,
menacing steam pondering the surface of a wine glass
Limber and frail bare bones, lustfully eradicated
Love of Twilight's sensual cadence, timid poker faces
Delicious full vodka tonic lips
Fate's enrapturing design,
draped in melancholy, hosting limbs of lovely skin,
protruding, extending confidently beneath
a tight and blackened mini skirt
kindly hiding yesterday's precipitated insecurities. ~~~

a veil blocking the essential

seeing clearly all the time. no. no! who wants that. who needs that?
no, that certainly does no achieve anything worthwhile.
it’s like working all the time; fucking all the time; being happy, anxious, good… all the time. no!
it is neither humanly possible, nor is it desired.
relax. let go, just let be, and observe - and all without being fully involved in it, sucked up and into the flow and depth.
no, to see things clearly, sharply focused, is like staring into the brightness of the sun - all the time:afterward, do not expect to see your field of vision uninterrupted by a hazy yellow glow, like a veil blocking the essential. ~~~