There are several large, unanswered questions about my life and it’s current direction. Recently I have discovered that it is quite alright to not have answers to questions when you are simply not ready for the answer. This is preferable actually. I equate the phrase, ‘it’s karma’, with, ‘everything happens for a reason’. Both are nonsense.
If one is lucky enough to progress in a direction that leads to greater balance and stability (the foundations), then what happens is what the moment brings that imparts realization. The reason is simply this, you attached significance as a result of your experience. All things within observable reality are arbitrary until given definition within the limits of human understanding.
With this said, I can now safely say that one of my large questions has a real answer.
Her name is Kaitlyn.
I must amend my last entry.
My particular blend of scents actually consists of a large dose of ‘no likey’ juice, with a liberal splash of, ‘fucking holy shit you are batshit please leave me the fuck alone if you really don’t want to talk to me anymore instead of showing up where I go deliberately to talk a bunch of shit about me because I won’t allow you to mindfuck me any further thanks’ juice.
It is truly a rank combination.
Who has an audition at lyric studios next week?
Me, of course!
I do so enjoy studios, sound is crisper, acoustics better, and generally, several glasses of vodka tonics are not involved. Also, being told with plenty of time to prepare gives me more than enough lead time to plan the day, and make sure I get the exercise I need to sing like those dopey american idols should I choose to do so.
In other news, I am fairly certain now that I am bathed in no likey juice, and the awful stench will not be removed by any natural cleansing process. No likey juice is only detectable by the female of our species, and is highly repugnant.
Hah, reminds me of that silly Alice deejay song,
‘do you think you’re better off alone?’
I suppose so.
Confinement does have certain advantage.
Being forced to sit still for a good while gives one time to clear ones head, and do somewhat productive things like continue vocal lessons and remain focused.
I believe the worst of it is over, as I have not shook in some time now. And I woke up without painful and obvious signs of dehydration and exhaustion. One more night of sleep should be all I need.
Why am I under the impression that my miniature health crisis will inevitably hurt someones feelings? It always seems to.
I cannot stand to hear the phrase, “I’m dying”.
Even worse to me, is when someone else decides to be clever and add, “Well, we’re all dying, slowly.”
Only for the reason that it doesn’t seem to be understood. It is said with a nonchalance that belies the complexity behind its true meaning.
I sang and screamed and shrieked and howled.
Over and over, and it was not enough.
I haven’t gotten enough yet. I need more. I’m on autopilot now, doors open and close on their own, letting things in briefly enough to feel, and long enough to leave a mark. I just need more.
I believe the next phase will be purely physical.
He just kept laughing, as deep red rivulets of his blood poured from various gashes and abrasions on his face. Laughing like a child. Hit me again Lou, hit me again, you feel good, don’t you? It feels good, doesn’t it?