time passed

someone reminded me that i needed to update this blog.

i thought about it for a week or two. and then, true to form, i didn't do anything to change the situation.

today i bought (well, put a deposit on) 2 pieces of furniture & i have no idea where they'll fit in my apartment and the woman selling them said that she'd rather have someone who loved the pieces as much as she did take them. it was one of those "act now or regret it" moments. like when you zero in on what you want and a few moments later that thing is in your hand, except with me i zero in on stuff and not so much on purpose.

so there was this old man trying to talk the furniture-lady down on the cost of what i think was butcher block & boy she was giving him what-for. i guess he lowballed her, and kept insisting. he was extremely old, gesturing with his cane and all and part of me wondered why he needed to buy anything else. at his age, haven't you got everything already?

i watch a ted talk about keeping your most important goals secret in order to really achieve them. so now i will not be telling anyone anything.

which is fine because i think i give a little too much; blame it on my staunch devotion to honesty and genuine discourse.

but all people mask the truth a little bit.

for all the work i've been doing on myself i still have irrational fears. i'm not the only one, am i? i'm supposed to breathe through the attack and take time to write down my worries--an act that is proven to reduce anxiety for most people who suffer it. my headshrinker says most people can't be bothered. therefore: i win the fucked-up peoples award for tenacity.

you know when you hurt yourself, or experience some kind of physical pain, and you think you'll remember it for the rest of your life, how badly you felt, how deep the wound or broken the bone--but for all that yapping, the pain still becomes a vague memory and when you recall it you're not sure if what you're feeling is the actual pain, or your brain's closest approximation of the pain you told yourself you'd never forget? that's how i feel now. only the problem is psychic, not physical.

there are people outside yelling and groaning and cats fight each other (or fuck?) and i have this notion that i'm going to get mugged, soon.

which is one way to keep yourself from leaving the house.

except you have to counter-think, and say, "well, it's just stuff, after all."

and also that whatever you put into the universe will likely come back to you. so i'm trying to think safe thoughts.

and also that i'd like to strangle anyone who finds it necessary to steal.

well, most people, anyway.

suddenly i miss the suburbs. my dad told me it got to be so windy the other day that the "for sale" sign in front of his house blew away, and i want that to mean something, but all i can think is that our parents are leaving us with the most broken of legacies. still, how often do you get to laugh about a big wooden sign getting hurled off by the zephyr's wrath?

i understand more and more that i think & comprehend in pictures and less so in words. maybe i should make movies?

i think of wasted opportunities.
and one-way conversations.
and the person who made me feel that way.
and that the internet is getting to be awfully boring.
and the two big white dogs i saw outside of the bookstore this afternoon, which were way better than imposing statues of lions in mid-roar or whatever else.
and charles bukowski sitting in his car crying like a baby.
and the days
run away
like
wild horses over
the
hills.