Little boy, heed these words: the world is an unscrupulous place.
Beauty and treachery are two sides of the same coin. Within you has been planted a thirst never meant to be quenched. If you are to be happy, you must learn to ignore it. If you are to be great, you must learn to foster and channel it.
I will say that neither is right or wrong. Do not bother with such meaningless dichotomies until you know how to use them. They serve only as tools to control the weak and will lead you neither to greatness nor happiness.
I will say that one is more rewarding than the other. Happiness may always be found by those whom greatness outpaces. But greatness is an impatient guide, and the further you stray from its path the harder it becomes to follow.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Salacious Vixen
It starts with a look.
So brief and subtle that at first you'd miss it if not paying close enough attention.
But she knows you're paying attention.
You catch it and experience split second paralysis. The definite but immeasurable moment of utter bewilderment that occurs just before you realize you've missed a step.
And just as you're about to panic, it disappears. The eyes you find yourself staring into like a baboon are now innocently questioning what you saw. Doubt sets in.
You don't know it, but more than anything you want that look to be real. You can't acknowledge it because you're not man enough to bear the possible disappointment.
Just as you tuck it safely out of consciousness, it returns. More familiar now, but just as mistakable. This time its giggling.
And thus begins the game.
You know from the start that you are outmatched. This one already has more experience than you'll ever know. This game is little more than cat and captured mouse. But you can't not play. That's part of the game too. Only the dead refuse to play.
She keeps you alive with her touch. Soft. Inviting. Exhilarating. Playful. Innocent. Not so innocent. She knows how to keep you moving.
And you move. You move in ways you didn't know you could move. You move desperately, impulsively, maintaining only enough reserve to amuse her. But it doesn't matter, just so long as you feel that touch.
It doesn't matter that you know. That the territory you're exploring has been mapped out by countless others. That the course you are on is one of unending pain and ruin. That the game has been rigged.
The touch means too much. It's worth it.
That's what you keep telling yourself. It might not be true, but you have to make it bearable somehow. You didn't really have a choice. Only the dead can say no to the touch.
So brief and subtle that at first you'd miss it if not paying close enough attention.
But she knows you're paying attention.
You catch it and experience split second paralysis. The definite but immeasurable moment of utter bewilderment that occurs just before you realize you've missed a step.
And just as you're about to panic, it disappears. The eyes you find yourself staring into like a baboon are now innocently questioning what you saw. Doubt sets in.
You don't know it, but more than anything you want that look to be real. You can't acknowledge it because you're not man enough to bear the possible disappointment.
Just as you tuck it safely out of consciousness, it returns. More familiar now, but just as mistakable. This time its giggling.
And thus begins the game.
You know from the start that you are outmatched. This one already has more experience than you'll ever know. This game is little more than cat and captured mouse. But you can't not play. That's part of the game too. Only the dead refuse to play.
She keeps you alive with her touch. Soft. Inviting. Exhilarating. Playful. Innocent. Not so innocent. She knows how to keep you moving.
And you move. You move in ways you didn't know you could move. You move desperately, impulsively, maintaining only enough reserve to amuse her. But it doesn't matter, just so long as you feel that touch.
It doesn't matter that you know. That the territory you're exploring has been mapped out by countless others. That the course you are on is one of unending pain and ruin. That the game has been rigged.
The touch means too much. It's worth it.
That's what you keep telling yourself. It might not be true, but you have to make it bearable somehow. You didn't really have a choice. Only the dead can say no to the touch.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Alright, I'm not sure what happened. I guess I stopped being miserable for a while. Anyway I'm back to it now and as gleeful as ever.
All I've ever wanted was the whole world and to eat it too. Now I'm going to have to settle for good health and a better attitude. Where does turmoil end and adventure begin? Turmoil. That's funny.
I'm walking along a lightly trodden path when the thought strikes me: I'm creating a rut. Sure, now its only a trail of trampled weeds, but my trip along it enforces it's existence and my return will doubly so. This path I might I justify because I deem it the best route to my desired destination, but shouldn't I at least be conscious of what I'm doing? There are so many possible routes with so many possible destinations if I'm not careful I may get too comfortable with this one and miss out on something better or more appropriate.
Just the possibility of becoming comfortable is a scary thought. What if I come upon some incredible opportunity but have grown so accustomed to my well-worn routine that I am unable to capitalize upon it? Or I find it easier to convince myself of it's non-value than to dare and blaze an unfamiliar trail? I can't get comfortable here. Not yet. I'm not ready to miss out on something else yet.
All I've ever wanted was the whole world and to eat it too. Now I'm going to have to settle for good health and a better attitude. Where does turmoil end and adventure begin? Turmoil. That's funny.
I'm walking along a lightly trodden path when the thought strikes me: I'm creating a rut. Sure, now its only a trail of trampled weeds, but my trip along it enforces it's existence and my return will doubly so. This path I might I justify because I deem it the best route to my desired destination, but shouldn't I at least be conscious of what I'm doing? There are so many possible routes with so many possible destinations if I'm not careful I may get too comfortable with this one and miss out on something better or more appropriate.
Just the possibility of becoming comfortable is a scary thought. What if I come upon some incredible opportunity but have grown so accustomed to my well-worn routine that I am unable to capitalize upon it? Or I find it easier to convince myself of it's non-value than to dare and blaze an unfamiliar trail? I can't get comfortable here. Not yet. I'm not ready to miss out on something else yet.
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