Sitting here between classes, VNV Nation in the CD player, Styrofoam coffee cup in my hand. My head is tired, my movements slow, hesitant.
Red wine is not my friend.
Sometimes I find myself thinking about just how transactional things seem to be in my world lately. Wondering about how so many things are achieved in trade for something else, and how we find ways to pay for our sustenance.
Do I give only in the hope of getting? Do others give to me out of want for themselves? Perhaps it's just a natural progression. The tiger eats the antelope that grazes in the grasslands that have been fertilized by the tiger. And yet, there is this feeling that stays with me, this lock of incomplete hair that always clings to the fabric.
Can't be
in two
places
at the
same
...Time
I was reading something a friend of mine wrote about her want for connections that go beyond the moment and the energy. About how there are levels of desire, and plateaus that, while nice, cannot help but fall short when held in comparison to full spectrums of color. How right is truly better than right now.
And while everyone certainly has their own definitions for the words they use, I found myself sitting back and considering mine. Looking at the glass through the lenses I have covered my sight with. Asking questions I could not easily answer.
It left me feeling left out of my own loop. Questioning what sometimes seems like directionless advances and all too frequent retreats. It wasn't a rain parade, or a beatdown... but it was a persistent question. An empty fill in the blank.
How do you search for something when you're not sure what it is?
Why do you run from the monsters you've never seen?
You wonder about your thirst. You can't see your forest for the trees. Each new sensation offering more definition to the last, and yet confusing the meaning all the same. Sometimes it's like I'm chasing myself down rabbitholes, looking for parties with hatters and doormice, continually asking each Cheshire grin I find the same question...
Who runs Bartertown?
Red wine is not my friend.
Sometimes I find myself thinking about just how transactional things seem to be in my world lately. Wondering about how so many things are achieved in trade for something else, and how we find ways to pay for our sustenance.
Do I give only in the hope of getting? Do others give to me out of want for themselves? Perhaps it's just a natural progression. The tiger eats the antelope that grazes in the grasslands that have been fertilized by the tiger. And yet, there is this feeling that stays with me, this lock of incomplete hair that always clings to the fabric.
Can't be
in two
places
at the
same
...Time
I was reading something a friend of mine wrote about her want for connections that go beyond the moment and the energy. About how there are levels of desire, and plateaus that, while nice, cannot help but fall short when held in comparison to full spectrums of color. How right is truly better than right now.
And while everyone certainly has their own definitions for the words they use, I found myself sitting back and considering mine. Looking at the glass through the lenses I have covered my sight with. Asking questions I could not easily answer.
It left me feeling left out of my own loop. Questioning what sometimes seems like directionless advances and all too frequent retreats. It wasn't a rain parade, or a beatdown... but it was a persistent question. An empty fill in the blank.
How do you search for something when you're not sure what it is?
Why do you run from the monsters you've never seen?
You wonder about your thirst. You can't see your forest for the trees. Each new sensation offering more definition to the last, and yet confusing the meaning all the same. Sometimes it's like I'm chasing myself down rabbitholes, looking for parties with hatters and doormice, continually asking each Cheshire grin I find the same question...
Who runs Bartertown?