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taliendo · 02-23-2004, 08:07 PM

Staring upon a cloud-covered night, I squeezed life from a fire that I had built. Upon the ghostly intake, I was seized by a fierce urgency to find my way - it was but a short ways away - and then I turned and emptied my stomach on the ice-covered earth. The regurgitation left that cathartic feeling of being relieved of a heavy burden, full of empty space that could be refilled later with another day's extraneous worry and strife. A few trips later, consisting of the same routine - fire, turn, vomit and then back again - I was prepared to continue this parable, to once again take part in the story.

Well, first let me light a cigarette - I always like a smoke during a good story. When this whole thing began I was stuck in a wierd phase, somewhere in between being a straight-edge, everyday teenager to becoming a starving artist, college dropout. I was pretty much wandering aimlessly through life trying to find anything that would make me happy and make me money without breaking any philosophical morals that I may have had about corrupting my "art." All of these ideas round about to a bucket of shit in this world where making money is an art form in and of itself - but heh, its taken me nearly twenty years to figure that one out. Life had taken on a diluted form where nothing really mattered; any mistakes could be chalked up to a bitter past and any decisions could be put off till some distant future. In fact, the only real things that I thought about were getting laid, getting high and making enough money to fumble my way through school. It was a good time really. But then I met someone and everything that was my life, was changed.

I don't want this to be a story about love - when I try to write about love it turns out sappy or melodramatic, at best. This is a story about the opposite of love. I've asked a million people the same question - what is the opposite of love? and about ninety percent all gave the wrong answer, hate. The opposite of love isn't hate, a man made emotion, its pain. There exists a pain so great that it could bring an entire nation to its knees - I know; I've experienced that sensation with you. If love is a healer and a comforter then pain is the very real executor of destruction and sorrow. Pain is the opposite of love because it the absence of love. But pain can be a way out too. If used properly, it can make room for ideas and notions that previously could have never even been imagined. I'm not afraid of the threat of pain any longer - I suppose that's what I have gained from all of this.

. . . . .

more later? maybe.

02-23-2004, 08:07 PM	#36 (permalink)
taliendo Insane Location: an indelible crawl through the gutters	swirling vanities Staring upon a cloud-covered night, I squeezed life from a fire that I had built. Upon the ghostly intake, I was seized by a fierce urgency to find my way - it was but a short ways away - and then I turned and emptied my stomach on the ice-covered earth. The regurgitation left that cathartic feeling of being relieved of a heavy burden, full of empty space that could be refilled later with another day's extraneous worry and strife. A few trips later, consisting of the same routine - fire, turn, vomit and then back again - I was prepared to continue this parable, to once again take part in the story. Well, first let me light a cigarette - I always like a smoke during a good story. When this whole thing began I was stuck in a wierd phase, somewhere in between being a straight-edge, everyday teenager to becoming a starving artist, college dropout. I was pretty much wandering aimlessly through life trying to find anything that would make me happy and make me money without breaking any philosophical morals that I may have had about corrupting my "art." All of these ideas round about to a bucket of shit in this world where making money is an art form in and of itself - but heh, its taken me nearly twenty years to figure that one out. Life had taken on a diluted form where nothing really mattered; any mistakes could be chalked up to a bitter past and any decisions could be put off till some distant future. In fact, the only real things that I thought about were getting laid, getting high and making enough money to fumble my way through school. It was a good time really. But then I met someone and everything that was my life, was changed. I don't want this to be a story about love - when I try to write about love it turns out sappy or melodramatic, at best. This is a story about the opposite of love. I've asked a million people the same question - what is the opposite of love? and about ninety percent all gave the wrong answer, hate. The opposite of love isn't hate, a man made emotion, its pain. There exists a pain so great that it could bring an entire nation to its knees - I know; I've experienced that sensation with you. If love is a healer and a comforter then pain is the very real executor of destruction and sorrow. Pain is the opposite of love because it the absence of love. But pain can be a way out too. If used properly, it can make room for ideas and notions that previously could have never even been imagined. I'm not afraid of the threat of pain any longer - I suppose that's what I have gained from all of this. . . . . . more later? maybe. __________________ -LIFE IS ABSURD- Last edited by taliendo; 02-23-2004 at 08:10 PM..