July 23rd, 2000

grandma ryan

(no subject)

ok, so i've been in a fucked up mood ever since i got home. why? that is something i cannot answer you, nor anyone else. myself least of all. all i do is commit my crime over and over again until I cannot be sentenced to death any longer. the minutes pass one by one, not the seconds, i don't have enough attention span for that, but every so often i stop and notice another minute has gone by, and I've been missing everything in between. i couldn't face my grandparents and my aunt and uncles tonight at my house. i hid upstairs as much as possible. i don't know what i was hiding from, most likely just the resilience i didn't have to maintain a face unpierceable by curiousity.

things happen to me when i get depressed, lonely, or generally wierded out: i become a strange breed of hermit/blabbermouth. I talk if i need to, but i only say the same things over and over again, like no one can hear me. it never does any good. no one ever really stops and tries to listen to me, to ask me what is going on, and so i avoid doing it until i get really bad, then i explode, become comfortable in a haze of forgetfulness, and start over again.

certain things exascerbate this condition, and others abate it, but i find myself returning to it as long as i am lonely. not that my communication skills are top notch the rest of the time. according to a certain unnamed assassin i am rude and i talk down to people, even those i know are intelligent. i'm never sure what to make of this source's comments though, and whether they are more a personal mis-interpretation of everything i say and do, or whether they are the only one with the gumption to tell me the truth. i just want more people to shoot me right in the ear. i'm never sure, because i generally find that those i think would have the insight, intelligence and balls to tell me something like that aren't offended by my mannerisms. so we turn and see that what i am doing is turning and seeing, never beyond my small scope, for i have yet to find the power of torque, and the step needed to lift myself onto that corkscrew going back upwards, so i can start walking forward again.

i find myself wondering whether this again is one of my fruitless babblings, or whether this is actually me talking about what i really feel...but then i try to figure out what i really feel and i find such silly bubbles of irrational emotion, just sitting there expanding with no thought to how much thickness of outer surface they have left until they pop, waiting for me to sit idly and be serenaded by their abusive gobs spewing behind my back, or to turn and spit sharp objects at them until i hit something dead on and tehy all come raining like so much spit pushing its way through my esophagus. and you can interpret which way it is moving. and in the end i'm still no closer to finding out what i really feel because i can't see through the childish emotion i never learned to pass quietly by and look behind before those huge bubbles explode and cover my eyes. i want to see those delicate desires hiding on the inside of the film of those huge bubbles, and i can't find a way to drain those balloons and stretch them like dead animal skins, attempting to make the letters legible.

what do they say god damnit!?

this is becoming too much, and i start to desire the things which i have attempted to dissect. tires become like what we have made for them:cradles. babies sit in them and float away, the bliss is only equalled by the passions which people beyond motion can attain in one spot. even food is too much for them however, and i find myself missing some option in between babies on wheels and old men in beds. the world only wants decisiveness, or indecisiveness, whichever they deicde upon, and either one will get you in trouble if you want too many things. so i decide upon nothing, and in the end, no one will decide upon me, and then i will die in peace, lonely, and i will have given my death to the world as i spouted in repetition, in equivalent words equalling:
"this was my death and my life, oh ingrateful pile of genetic success! you only have yourself by mere chance and molecular graciousness, and you will never pass the science of the gods, given to them by their fathers while their mothers gave them words to enact it. you never knew those words, only you thought you could, and this is where you went wrong: not only did you try to speak them, but you attempted to wield them to prove you were perfect and immutable in your ways. but you were merely the wafer-thin crust of what they intended, and they never gave you words like they spoke, only their byproducts. you are prouder than you might survive by, and the death of me, like any other, we will know this! The continuation of this disease is when we do not listen, and when we do not ask our mothers to speak these things to our children."

and the people never read their own writings. all the work they put into everything was left to fall into the dust as they walked in circles and drove themselves deeper into the dirt. sunlight came down on them as they were still partially above ground, until the walls of their walked down tomb made their way to reassume their own cycle, and fell into themselves.

we walked ourselves to and through life and death.
grandma ryan

(no subject)

this is a letter i wrote which i just ran across when saving my last post. i think it was meant to be rediscovered when i needed it, and i think this was a good time to read something i wrote when a bit more rational. although i can still see it as being a bit idealistic as far as movement goes and now that i know some other things about what it is to move and be in place. anyhow, i thought it might be a bit relevant, and plus i thought that since it helped me think it is relevant to how i am thinking at the moment. i am not different than i was at the posting of my last post, just a bit more distracted. and i'll try to get to this before the next minute hand goes by. here:

"Freedom

What you will find once you start to relocate your experience, once you head off to college, once you remove yourself from the familiar, is that freedom is merely decision and will. Right now you probably feel constrained, in fact I know you do...but just getting away with purpose is what will allow you the decision you have never had the ability to make before...not to stray too far off topic, but this is one of the reasons i don't think you should get engaged as of yet, for you don't know the kind of freedom and self-reliance you need to make well-informed decisions. I am going on the road this summer. I am taking my car and driving, taking the money I have and just using it. I am doing what I want to do, what I feel I need to do. Part of deciding to travel is that in making a life of my own, moving out of my parents house, even if just to school, has given me a new outlook on the permanence of location. It is one of the reasons I want to write on the idea of place, and how it affects the human psyche. Why is it that moving away from my home gives me such a new outlook on my life decisions? I was planning a road trip last summer, before I had moved, but I was too tied to the comfort and familiarity of my home and the people I considered my friends to break away. I wanted someone to go with me to California while we could visit our respective friends. Now I know that this is something I want to do alone, and thus I need to commit to it and just go. Waiting around for other people will only lead to what I feel is a stagnation which most of my friends have reached. Movement is essential to developing, not letting myself get stuck in one situation, over and over and over. While repetition is not bad, and seeing and caring about the same people is more than not bad but quite the opposite, being essential to being at all, letting anything become unintriguing makes for a dull life. What is the point of discontinuing the challenge of assessing new situations, letting yourself fall inot the trap of "safety"?
Now my road trip will consist of driving, staying and circling. Repetition in this sense is critical to evaluating what the necessity of movement is, for in a continual state of movement, no "place" can offer anything but a transition. No place can be something which affects your being enough that leaving it creates a difference. Familiarity drives our conscious and unconscious minds. Your dreams are filled with the familiar. You cannot dream about that which you do not know, your brain cannot create that which it has never seen or meshed, and the same is true for experience. Nothing we know is beyond the physical, or what we might be able to imagine. Even such abstract ideas as god take the imagined form of a human being, with aspects of human concepts such as power, knowing and place. Where do we get off assuming that what it is we experience is all there is? Do the movements we pay no attention to just not exist? In some people's minds that which is not the end passes them by, and thus they are creatures nearer to animal than we can imagine in a human being. Misunderstanding or lack of attempt to understand how your self makes decisions, moves, and/or associates itself with place or persons leads to stagnation, and indecisive behavior. Movement and analysis are crucial to progress, whether it be as a race, or as individuals. We must be creatures of development if we are to succeed, and not the creatures of habit which we so often label ourselves as. Letting go of restrictions we place upon ourselves because we just fail to realize other possibilites is the key to learning. We see this on small scales, like when we are taught information, contradicting opinions, the ideas of free thought which allow opinions to contradict other than by personal experience in schools and in social interaction. We are creatures of movement. We must be, or we are but creatures."

hope i don't just clutter your friends pages. [hooray irony]
grandma ryan

(no subject)

at adam's right now. i went to see chicken run today with my family, now we're all waiting for e to show up so we can go to golden gardens. finally seeing danny and adam since i've been back. feeling a bit better, but not sure if that's because i'm distracted or because i should. [shrug]