Oh, joy.

Oh, joy. What brings joy to the life of many – or simply to the life of you? Is it pleasure, wonder, sense of fear or a sentimental feeling of togetherness? Is it a feeling of power, anger, jealousy, or a subtle reminder to be subtle? Maybe lust brings joy. Maybe joy brings lust. To a clock watcher, watching a clock brings joy. However, to a clock maker…the ticking of the clock means less time to make time. Or rather the less time to make clocks? These thoughts bring ponderous moments to mind. To the frontal lobe or to the back, who knows. Only a psychologist should. Or a demonic spirit looking to invade. Exorcism. Amityville. Emily Rose…etc. Etcetera, such a funny word for a meaning of so many. To many joy is a feeling felt when colors are present. Or the colorful presents they receive from others. Psychological wonders never cease. Never cease the psychologist who wants to know more about your brain. They don’t know that all brains are not the same. Or do they? Joy – is that a fragment of life, or a run-on of feelings? Or vice-versa. A run-on of life and a fragment of feelings. Only God knows. One day I’ll ask, that amongst many other questions. It is true that no one feels true joy unless they are feeling that true joy at the moment of realization. They then feel vibrations of pleasure and arousal to the sense in their brain, stimulating joy. And only joy. Joy could be a person, or just not. Joy could be such a short topic of amusement or a long amusing topic. How can one feel joy and sorrow at the same time? The answer is the mentally insane. Let’s switch to something more openly joyful. Where do you find joy? The park? The kitchen? A pizza place? The recording studio? With a certain person? Let me paint a picture. You recently walk into a place. The sun is shining and the birds are chirping. You smell a hint of popcorn and churros. You hear kids laughing and talking about their day, as well as the distant jingle of music. Joyful music. Where are you? (dnalyensid) That’s where I find joy. Perhaps it’s the memories as a child. Perhaps it’s the memories of the future. Where do your future of memories lay?

Same Difference

Just as quickly as summer was birthed into the year of 2009, summer passed away into a book of history. I frowned upon summer just as a person frowns upon the thought of their beloved animal dying. In fact, the second summer had started for me…I felt as if a little piece of me had died… along with the pleasant weather. Summer came and went as slowly as paint takes to dry. As much as there were low points there were really few high points. A good friend flew in and out after a week of time was spent hanging around the 602. May 28 to September 9 has left a lot of dead time in my life. Really, I feel that way even though I lived the life like that life played out like a movie. The critics gave quick two-thumbs down. Ha, who’s to say I blame them. Destiny is well…still my Destiny. I can use that metaphor over and over and – oh how can I kid myself…it does get very old. She is the Kathy to my Regis, the Dre to my Eminem, and the ego to my Kanye. Basically we are one in the same these days. These days are unfulfilling to be completely honest. If honest was to be complete at least. At least I still do not have a job. No one wants to hire me. Well I honestly don’t want to work for them either…so it all pans out nicely. Panning is a quick span of life or a view of a beautiful landscape. Also my room. The clock that is digital reads 10:54, while the clock on this laptop reads 10:55. Which clock is telling the truth and which clock is lying to me? Who in my life is doing the same? What about who in yours? Oh well. Everyone is a liar deep down. While those lie deep down. Frick. Walk a mile in my shoes at least, I wear 14’s. You can’t fit your feet. Like Eminem I’ve had a Relapse. Not to bring back school and all its miseries…but the year started off exciting and now I have relapsed into a feeling of dread and embarrassment to say I walk amongst those I do. Music is slow also. Not the beats. Just my inspiration. Inspiration comes mildly these days I have found. I find inspiration lying under an instrumental here and there…and sometimes under a rock or a Town song. But other than that I am on my own. And my own is the way I am. Speaking of inspiration. I’ve been waiting patiently for Pinocchio to poke his nose. Disney. Random. Wood. Character. Real boy. Not to steal a concept from the West. But I almost wish that sometimes I felt like a real boy. Not artificial like the world I am a product of. Who’s producing kids these days? Everyone. Stop producing artificial intelligence. It’s just a matter of opinion, and opinion does in fact matter. My opinion matters just as much as yours but at least I take the ten minutes to voice it instead of bottling it inside and throwing it into the ocean, hoping some little child in India will find that bottle, open it up, and actually care enough what is inside. Some of you need to send me a bottle. I care. For now at least.

Opportunities Unknown

What a time it has been since my last entry. I feel about as unknown to myself as my four followers are on this here BlogSpot. Ha. Regardless of all the chit-chat and banter of daily life I always tend to find myself in the same spot each night. I have taken a new step into my life and find myself in the same spot I was in a year ago. Searching through all the mindless chatter of the daily ranting online public…to the more distinguished banter of the everyday Twitter celebrity. I find myself on every stupid message board I promised I would never go back on, however, gosh dang I am back. Summer brings boredom…I wish summer brought jobs. I wish summer took away a lonely feeling that I get deep down in the pit of my stomach only to be relieved every few days. A pit that can be relieved with a simple phone call, but only lasts a few minutes. Is it so fricken wrong for me to feel this way? I wish you would say yes…and maybe provide a solution of other frantic methods I could try in order to relieve pain and to get some new symptoms. Symptoms modern day doctors call ‘side-effects’. It is my choice not to associate with the drunkards and mindless druggies that this world brings to my side. But at the same time I feel a sense of loneliness when I cannot be with my only best friend. I cannot be with my best friend at all times, nor do I want to. Even if I was awarded that possibility I think it would be healthier to reject. If I were the type of person to inflict damage upon oneself I would have a cut for each angry thought for feeling ditched or alone…or forgotten. For every time I felt put up on the shelf…to be forgotten just until the moment I am needed the next. No Destiny this portion is not just about you…I feel this way about others at times. However, you are my best friend…besides the lonely man who lives near a city called Chicago. But, Chicago is a faraway land and my other best friend holds a busy schedule. Let me hand you a pencil and write my name down for Friday. Friday works best for me. Maybe even I can treat you to dinner at a fine dining restaurant tomorrow night. We will see what my schedule holds. Tomorrow will come and it will hold the same sights as it did for me today. It will hold empty lines and unknown ink stains. I guess the only excuse I could give is because I have no pen in distance to write my schedule. Or secretly not tell the world there is nothing worth writing down…until Friday. Flip the page a week or two and maybe some fun things will be seen but the loneliness stretches throughout much farer. Sounding emo is bad these days…I am farthest from emo, however, my feelings sometimes do get the best of me and writing is a way to release. Yungtown moved and Bravado is unheard of…so I cannot do music. Not to mention my music is unheard of bad and should not even be heard or thought up for that matter. One day I will write in my schedule something for me to do…in the meantime I sit and wait for an unexpected opportunity to leave the darkness of my bedroom.