A Blurry Spectre

Posted: September 16, 2014 in Uncategorized

Life seems blurry some days. Today is one of those days. I feel lost. I feel like all I’m doing is waiting for that letter to come in the mail to invaite me to an interview for the city job I want. I’m kind of sick of my job. I liked it for a while, but they changed it a lot. It’s always changing to be honest. Feels weird. I don’t like change because it takes away my sense of control or that I have knowledge. Knowledge is the new obsolescently planned dishwasher marketed in the 1950s. It seems I constantly fail to get a grip on reality, because of how fluid it is. I feel alienated at work now, which is strange because it’s a coffee shop, the last place you’d feel alienated. It’s weird. They changed how we operate our store so for this week so far, I have basically been a barback robot boy, whose accessory of sharpie and perhaps namedtag have becomed a timer and list of tasks. Brew coffee, restock ice, lids, sleeves. Then, look into your signal box: what does your team need? Hot cups, they need hot cups, iced flat lids, paper bags for food. Then wipe down the condiment bar; at the meeting they say hi to someone on your way there, but it’s not the same because, like I said it’s all a routine. Just like this heat, just like the sunset- it’s all a routine. The timer goes off before your cycle task. Time to stop what I’m doing and brew coffee, restock ice, lids, sleeves. Then, look into your signal box: what does your team need? Milk- lots of milk, a bottle of vanilla, perhaps green tea or iced coffee. What needs work on the outside. Sugar, they need raw sugar out there. On your way there, wow they’re already out of cups, okay gotta get cups. Change the milk, wipe the condi-bar, say a forced hi if you can. Now you can change your co-workers trash, give them lids after you wash your hand. That will help them so they don’t have to yell, but I liked it when they yelled my name, it made me feel like I was there, like I was human just like them.

It feels like we’re too aware of the rules and try to perform this new method, that we forget to connect, or perhaps there is no more time to connect because our store is always so damn busy. Our store is just always so damn busy. I wish it wasn’t. Maybe if coffee spilled on me I could wake up, because drinking it, I can do it at night and still sleep well. Like I said, it’s all about routine; and perhaps the battery acide like stream of drip coffee off of an urn and onto my arm- the hot, acidic, dark  brown water and oil entering my skin, my blood. Maybe then it will feel different.

But I have to wait, maybe I will always be waiting to come to life, to be more than a floating mass of ectoplasm, far from a holy ghost, but complacently in a background of humanity, advocacy, arguments a human type of struggle, the marshes of conflict, sex, and vices. And I feel so external to it, I feel so unaware of my nature, disconnected from myself. That is something.

Giving up on something…

Posted: June 25, 2014 in Uncategorized

This blog. I have had it for about 6 years now and I don’t use it anymore. I will be sure to link you to my new blog when I finish its first post. Thanks.

 

Always,

 

John

Hi.

Posted: March 12, 2014 in Uncategorized

I’m taking a bartending class through my old college, as well as a poetry class. It is interesting and I have the week off from work. Classes are on Saturdays. I don’t have much to write about, so much loss as streams may not gloss over my face; oh how I’ve embraced concealing so many feelings, leaving me so many people come and go, so long they may not tell me so I still feel their breathing so silent and invisible as I have become, when they leave so a part of me does also.

Fear

Posted: January 23, 2014 in Uncategorized

The desire to aspire to the aspect of ourselves we don’t believe we can achieve. Everday we see our failures we judge ourselves limit ourselves. We see the demons inside of us and we submit ourselves to their will despite their raspite despite their utmost control of this distorted reality- its grip hard to slip from it it saves us, our destruction they ensure, their loyality.

What I fear is the joy in what I desire. I am so used to being alone, a failure. I need fears to keep me going to make me feel different and special than you. I need to feel like a freak and establish a sense of superiority, to escape the inferiority I’ve come to know so much, detach myself from in an attempt to live on when I’m just static, sporadic I rather not grow on the inside, but it is time, to go beyond what we reap and what we sow.

In school I hated everyone, felt brushed off and excluded. I have found strength in it now. I hated them- the people that left me, didn’t talk to me even though I myself had a hand in it all, well not all the time but still. I have failed to accept the possibility that everyone will always stay in my life. Like the staff at the gym i must accept the task of seeing people go, to and from from my dark brown eyes into the seas into the bright sunset I can’t see past- the light so strong I stared at it too long, all the faces after, just blurs have you heard what happens when you stare at the brightest star in the galaxy? Soon after its a disaster all the subsequent faces dissappear, haven’t dared to look into a mirror I fear my eyes will vanish before me I banish the perceptablity the possibility that I could connect or relate to anyone let alone be loved by anyone beside my sister and mother oh brother where do i begin do you have any idea what it’s like to try and like everyone but constantly feel void of respect recognition yes I recognize that we all want it but I try to give it and one day it will all come, I hope I will meet her, yet I fear her and would probably never talk to her. She I consider an ideal, a savior that produces only the deepest guilt inside of me I hate this feeling. I don’t get satisfaction i am no longer attracted to all the girls I see, because I feel like they would never like me or love me for who I am or understand me and this is not just the side of me that lacks the aspect to share some of myself maybe all of myself to someone else what will i be once i turn forty perhaps others will think great things about me an come to learn of the psychological nightmares of my everyday life the realness of faces fading away from the basis of living breathing crying on the inside I smile on the outside- the tears I fail to perspire shoot like spray creates a glistening in my face is anyone listening enough to tell me who they are and save me from who I am what I am what i wou,ld like to be that is a failure to me?

The lights are on all the time, even at night, in the morning they’re on in the street at my job at my house at the library. I just want to live in the darkness and not be so ahsmaed of the ugliness the cave I have voluntarily forces myself to ento and resurrect from eventually when? I wait for someone else no longer I am aware that I must be my own Savior and act with Christ, know him. The world before me distorted and alien, ostracizes me these are the vibrations of liars I speak truth to, the causes of pain I try to please, the monsters I tuck in and night and tell stories to wish safety for.

The beauty I release is a face dipped deep inside a bath of battery acid, if it doesn’t make you throw up and squeam it will make you scream drop your keys and run. Satan is gorgeous. The beauty of Christ the battery the blood the pain the suffering that they flourish in, it will come back one day. We will come to know truth once and for all. many things will come to pass, things you thought you could never live without, you will see the beauty of a previously ugly soul. and you will se the gorgeous face of Satan engorged the acid rain he spews will come back at him and away from your eyes.

effing s werd

Posted: January 2, 2014 in Uncategorized

im so pyschologiccally exhausted ive got beautifully crossed eyes

I am so worried

Posted: November 5, 2013 in Uncategorized

This week I must work 50 hours and also apply for an MSW for next year. This is the actual logical thing to do, except I don’t want to let my old Sociology professor down. I should just not try to meet the immediate USC deadline. I am so fucking scared though; however it’s probably best if I just put it off. Breathe motherfucker breathe. I’m afraid she will be mad at me if I don’t send her my statement of purpose, but the thing is I have holds on my account and am unmotivated to write my statement. I dont know how I am going to make it alive this week. Please pray for me?

 

Your love,

 

John

WRiters Block

Posted: July 2, 2013 in Uncategorized

I never write in here, but I was gonna write. Turns out it’s my 5 year anniversary since I started this blog. That is so weird. I don’t want to get into how much I have or haven’t changed since then.

I hate this new format ugh