The Feebs.

Are taking over.
Picture this: im sitting in my Buddhism class lecture (this happens to be about a week ago), and our professor is lecturing the different Sutras and their geographical origin circa -800 b.c. and so on and so forth… he turns to the class and asks “Now, this is a side note, but does anyone know the title of the first written, bound, and titled manuscript discovered by archaeologists so far?” -- The class, as he likes to call it, is having a ‘low metabolic day’, considering about 80% of us in the room have just finished some kind of massively fucked midterm in the class before. No one answers. So our professor picks up on the energy and turns around to answer the question himself when ALL of the sudden… we hear this sickeningly quiet voice in the back say:

“The Bible?”

The ones fortunate enough to hear this, laugh that really short, cough-like sort of laugh you hear a lot on satire TV shows. Unsettlingly, our professor (who, I can tell by his stature) wants to eat this kid alive.
“What?”

“…Th--The Bible?”

And I’m looking at this kid. Skinny, black hair, (I wont mention ethnicity) kid and he’s got his right hand up to his chest, fingers wrapped around a gold necklace he’s wearing.

“The Bible is the first book ever written” - he says

Our professor looks around the class… im sure he's expecting Ashton and his camera-men to come exploding out from between the desks.

“Since when is the Bible considered the first written text?”
And hes laughing, a very pissed-off, semi nervous laugh.

He turns back, facing the chalkboard and says “Today is not a good day for me…” and continues to write about the different Sutras.
And now I’m looking at this kid again... He’s scared shitless, eyes glaringly wide, and his hands are going NUTS on that gold necklace of his.

So then about 30 minutes later (by this time I’m sure everyone has forgotten about the little intellectual mishap) some girl in the class drops her 5 pound pencil-case, and says “oh JESUS-”

And out of nowhere….
“-I KNEW HIM” -- yells out the black haired kid. And this time, hes LOUD.
And im looking at him again,
then I see it, a small dangling golden cross waiving back and forth across his chest, fingers incessantly rubbing the edges.
The Feebs. They’re taking over.

dust.

i can feel the dust settle.
its grey.

just for the record...

i care about you more than i think you know.
or maybe you do...
and maybe i need to also put my feet back on the ground.

but i want to tell you that i really appreciate you. ive admitted a lot of things to myself and have really begun to take steps towards being honest about whats going on. my buddhism teacher just recently had a lecture on how difficult it is to really, truly, completely come to terms with yourself and actually understand your personality (not that i needed buddhism to explain that to me, i just found it coincidence that his lecture actually applied to this). and i know as well as everyone else that sometimes we tend to ignore or forget things that dont mentally suit our own image. i dont know if ive gotten to the point of that kind of complete personal acceptance yet where im not forgetting or ignoring anything. in fact, im positive i havent because im even writing this blog to tell you that im working on it.

the best part about it... is that im not doing it for you.
im doing it for me. because i need me in order to have you.

i think the strongest kind of love, is the love that doesnt steal. the kind of love where i can fully appreciate your being and my being individually and equally exist.
i love you.



oh, and p.s. if youre reading this too... then thats also pretty wild

On a different plane:

I don’t know what kind of class this sort of exercise would be mandatory for. But there are a WHOLE bunch of people (couples, actually, and when I say couples I mean just groups in pairs of two) that are walking around campus - one blindfolded, the other giving directions.

Its annoying.

And I’m wondering how well these students know each other… im going to be realistic and say that they don’t really at all. Its curious to me what sort of “lesson” the professor is hoping to teach. Trust? Now, as a onlooker of this exercise, I cant even begin to count the numerous looks I have seen on the non-blindfolded. There’s a pole about 10 feet to my left, and about 40% of the time when the couples walk by, I’ll see them snicker and look at each other like “Dare me to let this bitch walk into the pole?”

In general, I think its fair to say that people ‘care’ about one another. In general also, I think this is a pretty stupid exercise.

No Title

Sometimes I cant read you. The same way pen seeps when paper gets wet. Its fuzzy and illegible and the words turn into shades and shapes and gradients. Everything starts looking like something else.
(I am afraid of this)

Sometimes paper falls apart when it gets wet.
(I am afraid of this, too)

ramblings (or something close to it)

Post breakdown. Pre meditations. I got bunches of lights flickering on and off in my head. You turn me on. You turn me off. Stay for awhile… I love your mouth. There’s your skin underneath my fingertips. Lots of buzzing and humming (low pitched humming) that feels like electricity barreling into my fingers, into my palms. You make it hard to breathe. Sometimes when I kiss you, I can feel my eyes get lost, looking into the deep deep spaces in the furthest corners of my head. It feels like I could die. Sometimes I want to. You sit somewhere on my tongue… I crave you the way thirst feels.
Come. Come. Come.



You are my water.
You are my wine.

jibberjabber

Today I establish a note. A tune. My fingers rest on words of yesterday and cover the holes that keep my sound alive. Its like whistling with your body. A crack slips beneath my thumb and I lose the pitch. The rhythm. Its crashing vowels and hits and jabs, and the movements stutter between giant howls that keep everything from drowning underneath this misshapen escape of sound…