I’ve waited I don’t know how long to finally go. Years now? Probably. Anywho, I’ll be back on the fourth with plenty of pictures and plenty more stories. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to post some things in between.
Until then, here’s a song to give you an idea of what’s running through my head…
“How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a little while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?”—White Noise, Don DeLillo (via lo-phi) (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
“The good men are in all ages those who dig the old thoughts, digging deep and getting them to bear fruit—the farmers of the spirit. But eventually all land is exploited, and the ploughshare of evil must come again and again.”—Friedrich Nietzsche, ‘4. What preserves the species’ in The Gay Science (trans. W. Kaufmann), 1974, Vintage, 79 (via tracesoftraces) (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
I’m taking this moment in time to make an admittance, I am guilty of being scared. Scared of actually being who I really am. Of letting her out without restraint. Sounds a tad dramatic but it’s been so long since I’ve actually been the core of me, that I’m unsure what she would do. I’ve held…
That shell emerged at the moment you were weakest. The moment you felt that there were things you needed to do in order to be a fully functioning member of society, you became distracted with fulfilling that role. The problem with that role is that it can never fully be fulfilled. Or at least, you’ll never realize it. Because there’s always the next task to complete. You’re filling an empty void. And so you don’t nourish yourself. And the inner you, what you refer to as the core you, gets hungry. And eventually, it wants out.
The beauty about this, though, is that you got hungry earlier than most. And by admitting it, and realizing it, and most importantly, feeling guilty about it, the process just became that much easier for you to reconnect with your core self.
The next step is to understand a primary duality that exists in our world: the conflict between your emotional and your logical states of mind. When we our children, we see the world through nearly no filters and almost completely emotional. We do things because we feel like it. But as we get older, logic seems to take over. We do things because in order to do this, we must do that; it’s only logical. Neither is good nor bad (a healthy balance is needed), but logic has this way of clouding emotion. There is good news though: the emotional state and emotional connections are always stronger. And if you let them, they’ll break that logical state that’s leaving you in a shell, leaving you confused and conflicted, and leaving you scared.
So the next time you’re faced with a decision, do what you must. But if you really want to break out of that shell, reconnect with yourself, stop being scared of being you really are, and live free again, then you must decide on what feels right, even if it doesn’t makes sense.
Let her out. Trust me, hell may hath no fury like her, but ne’er a relief more soothing either.
n. the twinge of sadness that there’s no frontier left, that as the last explorer trudged with his armies toward a blank spot on the map, he didn’t suddenly remember his daughter’s upcoming piano recital and turn for home, leaving a new continent unexplored so we could set its mists and mountains aside as a strategic reserve of mystery, if only to answer more of our children’s questions with “Nobody knows! Out there, anything is possible.”
Why I Post What I Post, and Why I Will Post More Original Stuff (For 3am Sessions)
Truth is, I’m a reblogger. I’m a reblogger like it’s nobody’s business. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing. But here I am claiming to have my own beliefs, perceptions, convictions, and ideas about life. And although I agree with everything I post, the idea still came from someone else. For those who have had either the pleasure or misfortune of conversing with me, you know I have a lot to say. A lot.
So, the short answer is, what inspires me to post are the people who surround me, especially on Tumblr. But from now on, I plan to make my answer include not only external sources of inspiration (people, events, life), but also the stuff that has led me to believe that I really am more like JAM and not Jelly.
It’s funny how the music scene changes in front of us, eh? Sure, the only thing ever constant in this world is change, and it’s apparently what we all hope for. But I don’t know, sometimes— oftentimes, actually— I wouldn’t mind some things staying the same. Call me a nineties kid, but some bands just never should have left us. Ever. There was a time when rock was real. It just felt authentic. And most importantly, it had hope. Lots of it. And bands had promise. Real promise. But there was the gatekeeper. And it decided what was going to hit it big next. And then bands fight. Or a member gets sick. Or sick in the head, full of ego. Whatever. But it ends. The band. The music. The promise.
And there was nothing else anyone could do except move on. And change. Now there is no gatekeeper. And you know what? That’s so much worse. Because now everyone has promise, which means no one has promise. Everyone gets heard, which means no one gets heard. And it’s put on the same level as the music from the past, regardless of quality. And the CDs of rock past become more and more hidden. The favorite tracks become numbers in a library. Record labels become office space for lease in a warehouse complex in Hialeah. Articles about and lyrics by the band become more and more difficult to find. Until they’ve become such minute details in one’s life that they become utterly useless.
So much for promise.
But fuck that. FUCK. THAT. I won’t let that promise die. I will be that boy full of hopes and dreams, the ones that no man ever grows up to inherit. I will have it all, and I wouldn’t pay a dime to anyone else in the world to carry it.