darkened, The fly has a say

....sometimes i find myself telling me off. I buzz and buzz and then I stop.
it don't matter what and who and when and where, as such. this is the content of the superior speech:

the sun. can we use it all. fade it with our exploitative nature. use use and abuse. human nature is pathetic. Why not use until your belly's full and then rollover and sleep? how unacceptable to insist on your ridiculous binges and trophies.

no resources. no internal defences. lying helpless like a dried seaweed by the beach. but it's sadly on top of a rock or in a cave. eternally distant from the tide.

we are creatures of the earth. it's true! we even respond to the moon. respond to the coherent internal urge to consider our own existence. a never-ending round-about of self-indulgent self-importance and necessity to share to realise what's happened. humans are so flawed! I cannot believe they were the 'best' creation for a second. take that primary school religion!

but hey, stop for a minute. what is it you're hopelessly looking for? right now, all you are is who you are and what you want is all you have. aiming higher? are you sure you are not just changing the present with an ideal employed to give you some sort of advantage in life? you can live right now. as you are. but you cannot be happy. because of no prospect, of no security. But doesn't that excite you? you could be anything and anyone. Free floating, joke making, ultimate, utter, you. obviously a lazy oaf you, but one that can only verify it's own self. external assessors have never existed as far as your integrity is concerned. and other socio-psychological explanations of self and identity, dull and no-shit-sherlock.

Here is from the optimist fly: you are your bad jokes and the good. you are a shadow of your everyday routine. and certainly of your midnight loo visits. You are the person that checks the plaque on your teeth, before coming back out of the bathroom to your one guest in the lounge. Spinachface is so cliche. You are the person that is too lazy for a tissue at night, the one who opens the fridge to look at other people's food to feel 'inspired' (jealous, and then contemplate takeaway which is a stupid idea), the person that walks on the road, pretending a miniature camera is following around. zooming in at what your eyes are meeting. even if that's just one of the many stopped cars with a parent in, around the local school. So you want more? Sure, but have you dealt with what you have already? Because, pet, it seems to me you wish to skip this step and progress to a level of comfort. you are mildly misled i feel.

Strip it all. focus on something other than you, like on your friend's success. Smile and express your happiness for them. Now wouldn't that be nice to give yourself? semi-patronising, american, self-congratulatory clap right now. because you are alive, you can go to the shop and overcome the fear of speaking to the guy behind you- his basket is eager, but he is just as absent-minded as you, not hitting on you sleazily. You can definitely type, read, click and play with your computer- discovering little secrets enclosed in the letters 'ctrl' and @. you are definitely alive, so presumably not starving. you own a notebook and a pen. write it all down.

since I was a child this is what I wanted to become:
a) a hairdresser, to crash the market with my unique triple plaited plait- C.
b) a dancer to wow the crowds with my body discipline
c) a singer. to move everyone. as i was. this featured borrowing friend's little brother's fisher price tape recorder, writing about 50 songs in a week and directing the bands of little slaves/younger kids and one my age (Viv) who has an exceptional voice and had the album of Jordy. Which was clearly stupid fun amongst attempts to play 'school' and make a surprise meal for the parents, so was well cool.
d) a coin archaeologist
e) a linguist
f) a ghost
g) a singer and poet and be interviewed by MTV and snub them and also be very honest and giggle, as practiced in the mirror
h) a person so cool and respected, their aura makes everyone get goosebumps of excitement and anticipation for contact and attention
i) a person living calmly, far away with mysterious income to sustain the massive material goods
j) a therapist. a witch. a guide. an advisor. an expert.
k) a responsible, respected professional.
m) a person feeling real, with people around who are also real. a person who knows their fabric detergents and can cook up a storm for a visiting relative of their partner.

but it turns out this is all incompatible with reality. aaaaaah weeeeelll...

SoberOctober

Listening to Causes 1(Track 04) on a bus.
"Melancholy" in the rain.
Wishing. Hissing under my breath.
Swearing and changing and I realise my thinking is a narrative in my Mother's voice.
What I plan & hope & hate & fear all in the distance,
are actually here. Right now.
My outdated future plans have caught up with my age.
How could I have ignored my head for so long?
I am proud and upset. I've succeeded in this betrayal.
Have made things mildly worse for the sobriety to sort out.
One thing I've actually done well in, however.
I've limited the shame. No pain- no fucking gain.

--

--

Magnetised. Drawn to the dark. moth and lightbulb.

Oddly comforting. Semi-closed eyes.

Such a physical experience
and yet such a nonexistent cause.
I'm set. Craving self-destruction.
Intensity that is related to blowing your head off with internally directed energy.
I describe,, and describe,,, and describe. My description the only skill I now truly possess. The rest of me, encaptured in the thoughts, is making love to itself, somewhere between Interpol, the realisation of wet socks, and planning the next deep, deadly drag of the scheduled cigarette.

Wish i could loop-in a cool way. Like in music videos. Like in my recollections of a dream. Half-constructed -half lied about. Wish I could flop my head over, the way I feel like doing -and it would look cool. The way I romantically see it.
I love the similarities (and hate them too) between real life & my head version.
I hate to be abnormal.
I hate I'm not a teenager.
I hate it when I don't understand.
I hate the twat above my shoulder on the bus. fuckoff.