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Thursday, July 15th, 2004
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12:49 am - two possible replies.
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I
UntoldStory85: youve got mail
In a message dated 7/13/2004 9:21:13 PM Eastern Daylight Time, UntoldStory85 writes:
For the short time you made me less than sad.
I'm not sure what to say.
You obviously wanted me to respond.
But at the same time, you're trying to dissociate yourself with me ("clean your hands so to speak")
Irony:
I trusted you with xxxxx in hopes of improving our relationship,
when it basically ended it.
If you noted the dates though, they were all over a week old. I havn't talked to any one since you. I want things to work. If you figure you're through, that's cool, and you don't have to
e-mail back. Otherwise, you can trust me, and believe im not about that, and make some sort of agreement not to leave ambigously dour e-mails.
-rusty or russ (depending on how you take the e-mail)
II
UntoldStory85: youve got mail
In a message dated 7/13/2004 9:21:13 PM Eastern Daylight Time, UntoldStory85 writes:
For the short time you made me less than sad.
Characteristically ambiguous. Litote. Bad grammar, though.
You obviously wrote that to evoke a response.
but what response?
I sometimes think that life can be literary.
I still get caught up in the idealism.
And "Reality (always) Bites"
I know you're going to read this, and my guess would be that you read it before
7 o clock.
I took a chance, a gamble, if you will. [a reference you probably won't get]
I trusted you (to xxxxx), then suddenly you left.
[didnt finish the rest]
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| Sunday, March 28th, 2004
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3:28 am
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im constantly haunted by the overwhelming omnipotence of realism in stark contrast to the psuedo-potence of idealism.
i'm lost in a world of ideas that seem to lack real correspondents, and phrases still echo in my head: "there is a chance to be INSPIRED you WILL SEE"
i still try to reconstruct this swirling world about (or is that around?) me...
to amuse me.
Russell passes by little kids, smoking a cigarette.
Kids regretate parental precepts "Smoking is bad for you...it kills"
Russell thinks the little kids are stupid and obviously malleable, and considers offering them one.
As it is however, Russell fears the cops and decides to mumble under his breath instead, "So can back talking strangers"
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| Sunday, February 1st, 2004
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10:40 pm
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i barely have time for myself, much less for a journal or other people.
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| Thursday, January 1st, 2004
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12:04 am - 2004
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It's the year to end all years. Many doomsday sayers prophesize this to be the end of time, or at least the beginning of.
I stared at the stars. I was looking for some sign--something divine. In their masses, I only found evil. Taunting--my hope.
Your eyes. I'm not quite sure.
I've decided to give up three things this year.
The decision scorched my wrists.
I wonder how long I'll last.
I wonder how long we will last.
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| Saturday, December 20th, 2003
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10:10 am - my mythological life.
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six times i've changed
six times i've noticed the subtlies.
six times i've lost sight of the ambiguous him.
it's almost as if i can see it,-- coming
that turning (sometimes breaking) decision.
the greeks have a word for it, hubris.
that occasionally possesses the greatest of heroes,
a consuming ego, in a sense, or even lose of it.
until it comes to that one decision.
where they meet their hamaritia,
head on,
their tragic flaw.
in the decision, their self-consumption (whether it be for fulfilling some fairy tale fantasy concocted as a child, whether it be for conquering some [anatomic] land)
they are given the choice.
as ate' covers their eyes, rendering them oblivious to their obvious mistake, giving them a level of experience that only those who knew cassandra could relate.
(and sometimes lost in the song of music calling-- "....walk away to save your face")
they choose wrongly.
they mistake.
they flaw.
then,
nemesis.
internal, eternal torture insues, matching their sentences with something only comparable to their mistake.
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| Thursday, December 18th, 2003
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10:22 am - videogame exposition
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I just realized I'm horrible at video games,
i click (move) too fast and nothing ends up happening
except lose.
but they are still ever-so great,
getting lost in the anticipation,
the psychology of the next move.
videogames are like love.
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| Wednesday, December 10th, 2003
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1:09 am
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i try not to get excited.
while participating in my greatest desires, there is that looming feeling that something is out of place. this can't possibly be what i wanted. i feel unfilled.
i wish i were with him
only for it to be, tinged too.
i decided the only poets i like are those plagued with some internal sadness that they feebly hope to express with their words, while in the end they realize they can not, concluding their lives.
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| Friday, December 5th, 2003
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6:48 pm - dreaded dress, v2, revised with a twist
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his simpleness, the expressiveness
you wear
your flagrant hues and melodramatic blues
oh, i do, i do! (That'll do, adieu)
you fashion your tight fitting tie
square
it fits
like an enveloping snake
ready
to poise(on)
Vanity Fair; profanity dare
your vicious dress
a tempting fruit
attempting to balance the scales,
the scales.
vrm, hiss, sputer-nack,
riding in that dodging viper,
"how about a ride?"
you comb your hair,
dumbfounded-glare.
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| Friday, November 28th, 2003
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12:16 am
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"You have to mingle"
"I don't want to mingle"
"How do you plan on getting to know any one then?"
"Well, if I wanted to know any one here, I'd mingle, but the fact is, I don't."
And I was telling the truth, there was no one there that I wanted to mingle with (or any thing else for that matter). I'd done my share, and I was through.
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| Wednesday, November 26th, 2003
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9:50 pm
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and if i were to turn about?
would i see your stance, that wobbily glance?
or perhaps
two, i've always hoped two, nestled
ducks (the ones that always quack)
nay, i'd spy your abandoned histories.
kept so secret by you and me
in the days of your (yore),
where we first kissed,
touched.
and everything tinged with melancholic blue
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asheartsbreak's journal