hideously beautiful

You are always welcome...

Texan Theater; Greenville, Texas (taken by lunaliar)

Wasting away in the beauty.

I'm sick.

Sick of things that this human body keeps me from possessing. I had so much beauty and energy run through my body that the surge made my soul quiver and my legs shake. I'm addicted to that pulse of intoxicating life, and because I bear such borders, I will never truly wield it.

A kiss is like a window to that very moment that the purest life slips through your fingers, once touched, but impalpable. Only the traces of its energy remains, making you weak in the knees.

A most accurate portrayal...

Self portraits are always fun, but never easy. Hopefully I will get a better digital camera, one that I can tote around.

Culture...

When can we no longer be afraid of our past and ashamed of our present selves? There are a few books that I've read that would lead me to believe that hope for the human condition may not be as futile as my evermore cynical mind sees it to be.
 
We are all truly the sum of our experiences, the culmination of our pasts. Every passing second is a causality, a link to our past, for the truth of the matter resides in the fact that we will always live as a figment of our past, for that is the only experience that we can reference.
 
If we can ever break the strong willed silence, the iron chackle tightly fastened to the leg of mankind, then the binds of our own past culture can be shattered. Then, and only then, we can walk freely as a new Culture. 

Those that would have you believe that this police state is a way of life are lying to you... and you know it. Not enough of us will speak up for ourselves, but I will. We will all feel the effects of it soon, an uprising of sorts. Instead of hate, enlightenment and openness will spread across borders, across oceans and space.
 
A culture of mutal respect, spiritual transcendence, beauty and peace will be our Utopia. There will be a renewal and a place for us all, and we can then learn to exist as it was intended, in a delicate balance with nature. Laws of humanity will not serve only as appeasement, but they will be obeyed in respect of the needs of our Earth.
 
This is the breach of the Critical Mass.  You have been lied to. 

Memories are the most loyal friends.

Saturday proved to be eventful, but at the same time it was quite emotionally taxing.
 
I cleaned the apartment, and my automated man went to see his parental units.  The only problem was that there was a malfunction within the synapses of his plasticoated brain.  He didn't call to tell me that we were taking separate cars to Houston, so I waited for him to call me back until it was much too late to see Tyler.  For so long I wanted to hang out with him, and the mechanical wonder that I share my life/bed with decided to blow me off, stand me up, ignore my existence.
 
I was so upset on the way to Houston and the sky typified my mood.  The entire way there, within the darkened sky to the left and right of me were ominous grey clouds that glowed with mystical light, brooding with the very same fermented anger and sorrow that I possessed within myself, and in return, possessed me.
 
When I arrived at the shop outside which the man had parked his car, I saw the proprietor, my friend, and a heavy shock of electricity shot through my body, and I almost began to weep.  I had been forgotten by someone that loved me, I had been cast aside as an unnecessary parcel in which so much emotion resided.
 
It took many moments and words to recover from my initial shock. Explanations were given and received, and tears were shed.
 
The meeting ensued and ended, and we members shot off to the closest bar where we imbided in spirits and smokeables.  I conversed with those I had desperately wanted to emote with for a very long time. Friendships were forged and salvaged.
 
All in all, the worst part of the day was the drive back to Central Texas. 
 

Not a virgin voyage.

Today should prove to be very interesting.
 
We usually go to Houston every other Saturday for a meeting.  This Saturday, there's more than just a meeting waiting for us in Houston. 
 
My friend Tyler, or better known as CoonAss, has voyaged the treacherous trail from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to Houston, Texas, to help one of his friends move and settle in. If we go and see Tyler, it will be the first time I've seen him in over a year. 
 
My sisters and their roommate want to hang out too.  We'll be seeing them after the meeting.  Hopefully the meeting will end far before last call, and we'll still have some "party time" to absorb.
 
The catch is, first, the dishes and kitchen must be cleaned, the apartment must be vacuumed, and the couches and chairs must be febreezed before I leave to do anything today (I say all this, but I know that I'll probably only clean the dishes and kitchen).
 
Hopefully after tonight's exploits I'll have something interesting to share.
 

The sunset made me do it...

I just don't understand how life works. At least one time this week I've felt alone, but for some reason, it seems to work itself out.
 
Going to work early this morning really set a poor mood for the day. I just didn't want to be there, and work is just difficult to deal with in itself, especially being a writer. When I got home, I got to work on the article with a Sunday deadline. I came up empty-handed for about an hour, so I took a walk, a long walk.
 
I came back to my apartment only to get a glimpse of man in his most vulnerable form; laying in his warm bed, naked and exposed, and better yet, asleep. It was the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time.
 
After I cooled down for a bit, sources began to return phone calls from earlier in the day, as if the Universe knew that I needed a break, but it was time to get to work.
 
I had just finished my research when he left me, headed for the bookstore. I will not see him until 4:30 a.m. Saturday, or so.
 
I decided to have lunch, or a small substitute for it, and do some yoga, but after stretching I felt that I was prepared to do something. For some reason I was supposed to eat and stretch to get ready for some activity that only the world had advance of. 
 
The trash desperately needed to be taken out, so I reached into a drawer to retrieve a liner or two and a coupon for a free bucket of range balls was next to the trash bags. Just last night I had picked up my violin for the first time since the Los Angeles show, and now I had the urge to get my golf clubs out, which had been more useful as a coat rack for the past six months.
 
I changed clothes and loaded the Rhonda (my car). I drove Rhonda to the driving range and prepared. I was incredibly nervous, so I decided to make friends with some surrounding golfers.  I grabbed my (golf) balls, headed for the range, assimilated into the crowd of hopeful semi-athletes, and began to practice a game that for four years, about fours years ago, was almost an obsession.
 
As I finished, I was thinking of the one who woefully departed earlier in the evening, so I broke down camp and headed for the Rhonda. As I was driving to his workplace, I saw the sky as one of those dramatic Southwest cowboy paintings.  There were remnants of the turquoise midday horizon scattered above me interlaced with streaks of pink-orange clouds.  If the calm blue sky was God's gazing pond, then I was musing on His moment of deepest contemplation in which He stroked the still surface of the pool, leaving bright neon ripples and memories in the sky.