dear future self,I write when the city is winding down at night, when there's this elusive tranquility that mutes the sounds of chaos and random variables. I realized that people were too engrossed with self, with doing their own thing, and had an almost passionate love affair with being indoors...inside the strongholds that they built for themselves within. Insolated life, where they were 'safe' and nothing could touch them, affect them in any slight way. . . .
I'm walking through the park, it's quiet now and the city is winding down. I enjoy letting stoops play and run amok, though he seems uninterested in anything other than playing with his beloved indestructable ball I got from Petco for $7. The only one he's incapable of destroying.Some white guy conversating with me, I must give off a friendly vibe. He's a cinema person, makes commercials and what not. I really just wanted to fly my drone out here in peace quite honestly. How ironic when you want to be alone in a place that's always empty, along comes somebody out of nowhere to disrupt the tranqulity.I continue walking about through the park, enjoying the view of people about to sit down to a warm meal, or watching television. The Xmas decor is up in windows, and the sight of trees . . .
Dear GodWe give thanks for the darkness of the night where lies the world of dreams. Guide us closer to our dreams so that we may be nourished by them. Give us good dreams and memory of them so that we may carry their poetry and mystery into our daily lives.Grant us deep and restful sleep that we may wake refreshed with strength enough to renew a world grown tired. We give thanks for the inspiration of stars, the dignity of the moon and the lullabies of crickets and frogs. Let us restore the night and reclaim it as a sactuary of peace, where silence shall be music to our hearts and darkness shall throw light upon our souls. Good night. Sweet dreams. Amen . . .
Something to cheer me up. It's been a heavy week for me. . . .
I always start off any personal entry with these words 'dear future self' because I tend to be a time travel, reminiscing on what I did on this or that particular day. Sometimes there's fragments in my past I vaguely recollect, which feels much like phantom limbs of my own soul. Kind of how you try to remember what it must feel like to be in your own body when you were 10, 16, 24, 29. You have a vague shadow image of the feeling but it's something you'll never again experience. Those would make for excellent writing prompts. . . .
My wishlist is never really cemented in stone (or paper for that matter), nor digital paper; mostly because I haven't the wherewithal to actually update much less maintain one. Materialism culture promotes these things with religious fanaticism so it's kind of a moot point of crafting one. If you're stateside in the U.S. of A you are multiple wishlists wrapped up in a nice sushi burrito.The thought has crossed my mind, simply for the sheer exercise and brief respite from reality it offers. Like some sugarmamma is going to come along and decide "Hey now, I'm going to buy you all of this stuff or make some of them happen anyway, because gee golly you're a special man!"Aint that the truth? ^_^Mmmm, okay so here's my list. Read em and weep! . . .
Tamale vendorI recently switched tamale suppliers to Daniel, who works the next block on the corner of Hamlin + Lawrence. His tamale's have more variety of flavor, and he's quite professional which I like. Because I'm a professional tamale eater heh heh. Okay that was funny because I decided that it was.I write a bit in one of my journals. Words came, though I felt creatively constipated. *Just write* sometimes works as a laxative. I check online for latest news...Miss Philippines Catriona Gray wins Miss Universe once again. She just won it in 2016! I guess the world is starting to recognize that Fillipino chicks are hot. So much for south Korea and all of its plastic facial surgery mess. Maybe someday when synthetics become real looking and we're all living in a Blade Runner . . .
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; A time of war, and a time of peace. . . .
I went to Gurnee Mills yesterday, it's strangely become an excapist destination to kind of forget about things, life, etc. Since there's been a peculiar bout of warm weather people flocked here in droves, evidently doing their last minute x-mas shopping. I thought about what I could give as gifts to people, and I didn't really have anything I required personally. Maybe something like socks & undies which seems to always be the case but that's hardly what I'd consider a gift more like a permanent staple on my list of thingies. However, this book seems to be fitting. I'm not very subtle am I? :) This would make an excellent stocking stuffer for say your crazy sister(s) especially mine heh heh, relatives, loved ones, the insignificant others of others who may or may not really gel well . . .
Too much time on the computer... Too much time on x, y, z Too much time binging on things and not nuff writing + art Too much time in the gym and far too much devoted toward myself others need me, they require me and how much richer am I to be needed to be required? When we focus exclusively on ourselves we become generators of lonliness and misery how often do people bemoan and have pity parties to the fact? We weren't designed to be isolated and cut off from reality but to be as kings and queens and high priests too much time on xbox and sony playstation or facebook and instagram not nuff of conversations that are deep and meaningful or helping a person move and being a true friend to someone who needs it who might be actually contemplating suicide yet we always . . .
I need a break I need peace & quiet I need to escape from all of this escapism I need release from all of these prisons I seek quiet from the noise stirring in your echoes I want to unsubscribe from all of your ennui every word and thought from your mouth was 95% predicted by my AI digital assistant I wish the internet went down for a few months and people reverted back to their organic selves people bumping into lamp posts and walls staring into white screens, updating the internet about all the dumb things they were doing 'look at me, I'm walking' 'look at me, I'm talking to this homeless person' 'look at me, I'm setting fire to a tree' 'look at me, I'm urinating in an alley' naarcissistic culture rewriting and encoding future narcissists empathy is dying every . . .
Hello and welcome to my life, such as it is. It’s not always exclusively about myself, and yet it is.First, I’ll tell you what this is, why you should read it and it’s really not all that, but it could be. The potentiality is certainly there, however I don’t require a readership of people hating on this, nor do I require followers and likes from said people, because it’s not my intention. I simply am a poet and writer, and I enjoy writing for the sheer pleasure it instills, but also to discover the life within, to stretch it, expand on it, and publish it. This might unsettle / upset / offend the sensibilities of some, but that cannot be avoided. In life, we often will find more than not that this is a normal residual side effect we have on others. . . .