n'est pas

routine brain maintenence..this is rather long and tedious so feel free to skip it, especially if you fancy yourself a skimmer.



Sometimes if I fall enough out of sleep, if my eyes roll back just such and such I can see the folds in my very own grey matter. They constantly abide and unabide according to entropy and blood flow and I cannot keep up. Because when I see it I shake myself out of sleep, because every time I try to sleep even though I am so so tired as i have said I experience such a sudden and terrible dizziness I think I might fall permanently into these folds and never come out. I could get lost you should see it oh everyone would be lost I'm lost and I'm out here. Once I sat straight up in bed it was such a forthright reaction and then I tried to move back and forth backandforth and rockingchair myself back to sleep.

I think the mentally ill who are constantly back and forth like in the country porch swing of that dream and mumble something repeat it and mumble it again are just trying to make it out alive are just trying to sleep.

I don't buy left brain right brain that is just too easy and I never fully grasped left and right anyways. It seemed about a solid a concept as god, and I would have none of it.
I think some brains work like a grid of streets and avenues and besides the occasional wreck or jam they pretty much have traffic flowing smoothly up there. The pharmaceutical industry wants all these little planned communities where we gate out all the unwelcome information into ghettos and then starve these ghettos. The pharmaceutical industry really just wants money of course like a lot of people but they make people sick and make people think they're sick people who just need to stand back a minute and look around.
How many of my favorite lyrics, how much of my favorite bathroom dimlight underfoot graffiti will starve this year?

I saw how Einstein mapped out the universe and can you imagine even! Even in one dimension the lines don't always work out and something gets screwed up, doesn't cancel itself out, or just plain looks off, and he mapped infinity in four separate dimensions and then mapped them all together. Even if quantum mechanics came and blew his grid to hell with microcosmic science experiments we still owe him for the pieces we are trying to link to the other pieces before we can know everything. Once we unify physics and physics we can play god and collect our nobel prize-winning lobotomies. We can win our piece of the heavens at the blackjack table sitting next to james lipton who is using blue cards instead of playing cards but it still makes sense because its not really being televised. Every time I fall in love I will name another solarsystem, I have decided and I tend to do that sometimes.

I think a lot of people operate in that space between. It's a big space, so beyond big as we measure scale, universes are born and give way to gravity's temper tantrums in the space between knowing nothing and knowing everything. The tiny tiny chaos we marvel even works day to day has to align itself so that the one two three four and so on but exactly right until god knows when before one day we just know. And it has to be perfect, even though nothing is perfect so they say once this happens we can look back and say "ok that was perfect. that is the standard from now on."
The biggest catch of them all is that we won't see it coming until the very end, and who knows when it starts or when it ends or if it's already started or if it's ending in the next five seconds. If we are lucky (and it really is pure luck, none of this karma nonsense) some of our used subatomic mess ends up looking down on this planet wearing a goddamn smirk. Just knowing when and where.
But mostly it becomes waste.
I see the future as me and you and the others I hear knowing knowing everything in the same moment we are vaporized to bits. Split the right atom chain and its humanity all at once my god what a long line at the pearly gates if that's what you think of when I mention of splitting atoms. And yes I honestly think that these exponential years of evolution leading up to man what we consider modern, what we call intelligence was all for one moment of understanding for the lucky pools of radiation. Grab a snack you're gonna want to watch this.

Returning now to brainmaps and how I see them without the help of rays (gammaray, xray, manray) and without the burden of logic and how portion a fits to portion b. And how I was numbering the population living in the expanse between giving up and giving intothisorthat. Don't call them culdesacs call them roundabouts because you can get stuck in the middle forever or dabble on the outskirts a second at a time. Everyone is looking for what I've heard named the signified what I've heard named the american dream what I've heard named happy, and they don't know that this restless is all there is.

Contentment in it's purest state must resemble purgatory, because you aren't burdened by the past and don't fear the second in front of the next.

I think the planner in charge of grids and such just forgot to get around to me in the shuffle, which makes sense because I can't keep a days events straight for anything and oh wait what did I forget to do today? Something financial probably I fucking hate moneygoingsons. I don't know what it's like to drive on a map that looks like knotted wire even on paper in the first and by example in the second and by failure in the third and resignation over time. So these folds they're just tangents and I get lost on one and hit another and get lost on another and never find my way back and they move and move like the labyrinth in the movie. People are always coming and going and people are good for those things and some people stay awhile because they are good at this and some people stay awhile because they have always been there in parts due to genetics or due to what they left and some people stay awhile because I force them to even though they are slipping or in pieces and I know it but I can't rearrange yet to accomadate such an absense.
Some people move fast like sound moving over the desert in a since-antiquated epcot adventure representing what we must do to close this gap and yes they are insane. You designed a ride designed for kids, you must be insane or you must be laughing and you better be both.

Some people remember what they wanted and they wanted to be famous they say (or maybe those are the ones we hear).
Or they wanted to be very very good at one thing hopefully a talent otherwise people cry into such a sad pipe dream when really their lives are much worse.
Lookatthebigpicturemygodthedetailsleaveusmundaneandpettyanddon'tyouwantmorebecausethereissomuch-
(But nobody wants to hear that when a one night fuck doesn't give a call or a one night call doesn't give a fuck. There's a reason they don't make me write advice columns.)
Some people just think they want money but not really they just want more and more stuff because they collect layers and masks and armor and cars and stereos and clothes and anything to be quickly judged and not have to deal with it all. That is why people must wear sweater sets and I think j crew might as well change its name to "wear this and no one will care what the fuck you do" Or maybe cammo, cause slipping under the radar is just one mall visit away.

The only constant thing I can remember wanting since I can remember wanting is just a complete or close as possible understanding of what I couldn't quite piece together. I wanted to know where the dinosaurs fit into to all the church stories and how the mythology of the greeks and the planets of the romans fit into the church stories and how other people lived because i didn't know how I was supposed to proceed quite frankly. i wanted to know what the tv people had to do with me and what all this news was and what was real and what they told you was real and the difference and I don't ever remember believing in santa claus. i just thought everyone was in on it and we weren't supposed to ruin the joke.

I wanted to know why I was expected to toil over basic figures when I was really thinking about the infinity that exists between the numbers 6 and 7.
I suppose eventually you'd run out of space for decimals, once you reached the edge of the universe you'd hit it but I'm willing to bet you'd first run out of writing utensils. First whats labeled for writing, then whats labeled for making do, then scratching for depth, eventually writing in your own blood. A body or even two or even a team of bodies only have so much blood but I guess for some people it's worth it. Does logic have its martyrs? Can we grant curiosity a saint or two? Just to see what happens?
This decimal's running straight through the vatican and we're taking all that money marked indulgences and buying enough drugs to forget about the guilt which funded the house that hubris built. You are rich and worshiped they are scared and sleep in the same gutter your piss runs through but they don't care because you are untouched and I just want to shake them and tell them that your robes represent the same theft that capitalism grants the three piece suit.

My god I just want to wake people up sometimes.

When you are or really when I am seven I can't piece it all together like I want and I think when I get older and stronger and more assertive like the strangers i'm grouped with sometimes I would know better and I would know just what to do. I assumed everyone lived by the same paradigms of right and wrong and I was the one who didn't know any better, had to be taught and sometimes I wonder if I made it all up because it remains so buried and has to remain so buried in mixed company for reasons and yes there are reasons. Sometimes I wonder if what happened really did because the gaps are so huge, names, faces the useful believable bit but I still remember where the sun hit the light blue tile and how I wasn't swimming with the others because my ears were too prone to damage and how to keep a secret because maybe if I could keep quiet enough they wouldn't notice I was even around. And my god I remember the smell it hits now and then like a vague punch in the stomach and I wonder how many times and I don't want to think. When you don't know where the line might be and that there was a line and that no maybe this was too far over so much more than the others who were crying on the high dive you do what the line says and in retrospect it is hard to believe no one on that line was old enough to take into consideration, certainly between them they learned guilt or maybe they just learned line mentality. I can't say and I really can't say any of this because it is so overwhelmingly mine, funny how the guilt remains but its a what reason for not saying what you mean to say and never telling anyone and its not so bad learning people are like that.
I think maybe I was just in a movie or maybe just my own movie because I was the only one there who cried which came so easy and I had to stay all day every day until I cried too much and my mom thought I was too shy to make friends and hired a nanny. I think I loved whoever that nanny was because I could sit in the tree and just pretend to be stronger. Everything started to distort and the knots became real but I knew it was me and maybe I should just hide forever.

I think maybe this can of worms is open a bit too much for comfort, even keeping things cryptic makes me hesitant.

I may erase this too soon because I lodged this smack in the middle of a rediculous venue and shouldn't you be saying such to someone with too much education to listen and too much money to care? Sometimes I enjoy keeping life absurd as to keep life anything remotely constant.

Happiness as it is known, sometimes I say it was my naivete before seven and yes probably but then people became scary and vile and I thought they all wanted the worst in you to parade through town and then move onto the next one. I don't remember when I really sorted it out again, when I knew right and wrong in the larger concrete sense and not in the way that just floated an abstract nebulous pain from too many corners to count.
And I remember wanting friends so badly I mean friends that wanted to talk to me and not friends because your moms banked together or because you had the same nanny. No one would live in these knotted wires because every time I tried to speak for myself my mom would say it was wrong and every time I tried to imitate my friends would say I was doing it wrong. They had more stuff more armor and could take all this and I hid in the closet a lot and I dissappeared a lot to where no one knew where I was and just existed.

I began writing on my own accord to make sure a person could be like the people I read about. If I could create someone who wanted to do more than get the most smile points or be the sitcom second man to whoever was considered most liked, then maybe they would actually show up. Maybe if I use this special pen with all this useless junk on it that smells like sacchrine it will happen but usually those pens wouldn't write anyways. And then I would have this useless thing again and mom would look at me and say "look at how much money you spent on something that doesn't work."
I used to cry a bit too much for my own good. It's still a default reaction when something is so overwhelming or sudden. I look back and it is stupid.

I look back and this post is stupid.
I hate sounding self-involved or looking like I'm looking for anything, least of all pity.
I sometimes wonder why I can continue with people after they act in suchandsuch a manner, why I choose to live all the life in me in a short period of time, why I don't care if it's a short period of time.
There is so much meanness and desparation in parts of my life right now that I don't take much personally- I know what chemicals are capable of and if I leave I leave suddenly sometimes I leave suddenly before hitting the ground because I need to be alone first. One time I was hyperventilating and was ignored by the other people in the room (no one who would be reading this is involved or even know these people, pinkie swear), so I know other people sometimes don't act like people.

It does, however, leave the unfortunate side-effect of mistaking any bit of actual kindness for what might possibly be more than common decency. My people-reading-scope is a bit distorted, so you'll just look away and let me go back to adjusting it.

So I am choosing to do this instead of what I should be doing so they won't talk, which is drinking and doing the talking for them. I sometimes feel bars are the ultimate waiting rooms you are dancing and you are marking time.
All I can do is stand aside and try to remain decent and try to remain unbalanced and try to keep it from making me sad.

Because it is just too much sometimes, even too much for sometimes.


I repeat: this post is for no other purpose but routine maintenece. sometimes I have to fly through these corridor and bring back bits and pieces of poorly researched theories and trite backstory but we all have it right I mean we all have to move forwards relatively speaking unless i suppose you're that car from ferris bueller or the carousel from something wicked this way comes but then you risk falling through a sheet of glass or being followed around and heckled by johnathon pryce trying to sell you an infiniti.

i bet halfway through this post you would not have predicted it ending on a jonathon pryce reference. yeah, me either.