Nay! Nay! Nay! (Overdramatic title's are so tre` chic, don't you think?)

"She's well acquainted with the touch of a velvet hand like a lizard on a window pane..."

I tell you what, I never ventured myself a fan of The Beatles, but there it goes, grabbing me by the ears and dragging me down to 1967. Well happiness is a warm gun, eh? Fuck, that's great. I love it.

Aside...

Friday. Some Friday in September. I don't want to go out tonight. I am getting tired of the same old rap. A couple drinks, constant shouting, a bazillion cigarettes that will take their toll on me in the morning. Gah, just not that kind of night for me. I think I'll just go to sleep and wake up early and drink some fresh coffee, smoke a few cigarettes at ease, read a little science magazine I subscribe to, or maybe the Cosmos, or perhaps The Dangerous Book For Boys. That's a damn good book, right there. Something to keep around for little fellas to come. Ah, don't want to think about that kind of thing right now.

You know, I think I'm really missing those little bits that flash every now and then. You know the ones; the little flashes of momentary brilliance that light up your otherwise sleeping brain with a little shred of truth or something real. I feel that whatever mechanism I had to prolong, expose, freeze, photograph, anticipate, and so on those things has been shut down. Like this entry. I start it thinking, "Just maybe something will come out tonight...", but alas, it's nay. Nay! Nay! Nay!

There are the meaningful portrayals of the mess you are and there are the plain-jane messes. There are the abstract traces of the faces of you and there is just the one staring back in a foggy mirror or car door or what-have-you. Simply put they are one and the same and however you want to see yourself is by your fancies, facts or dreams.

My Right To Abandonment

You know, it wasn't so long ago that I used to frequent this place...

Every night, late and quiet, taken up by some strange thought, some deep connection, some simple, elegant, moving truth that so proposed to propel my fingers to dwell on it for a small space of time and leave it here for later days.

Well, those later days include today, when I only need to read a fraction to realize that I have exercised my right to abandonment. It has been a long, long time since anything of substance has crossed my mind. It only saddens me a little that the substantial part of what I am now writing deals with identifying my loss in the faith of my written word, and the passions that drove me to do it, and the eyes to see the passion, and so forth, and so on.

I went outside not long ago and felt the first chill of autumn's breath. I turned some thoughts around inside me. I am tired of my old ways. They are just that, "old". I want honesty in me again not fleeting but surviving. I am 23 years old. I've had just the smallest sliver of experience to make calculated guesses about the future, which in turn makes me sad. Sad only since I am afraid nothing great and unexpected will come again without my prompting it, negating the entire notion. I know that probably isn't so, but I guess that's just my thinking. I feel older too. I remember ripened youth as it flowed through me and it is fleeting since I've not preserved it in the slightest. No exercise, no proper diet. Smoking all the time, late nights, drinks, exhaustion. Insecurities, unexpected problems. The weight of responsibility constantly upon me, which really isn't much compared to parents, which bothers me all the more since its coming on eventually. Ah, I really am thinking in all the wrong ways. But, that's the point of all this, I guess. I want to get it all down so later days will come and I can say to myself, "Dammit boy, take a step back, learn from this, learn...". Maybe I will, who knows? I'm tired of second-guessing myself so much and ignoring my deep-rooted feelings as something not worth identifying. Write for thyself, live thus too.

More is to come, or so I hope. I don't like that I abandon you so, haven of heartfelt wonders and dreams. Straights of dreams await the eventual end of evening that tonight shall be, and so I ride lightly into it now with a face of an aging menace found remiss of some old ways that are worth keeping.

-The Author of This Blog