Ink deep.

I'm not sure whether this article belongs on this blog. For one, it's not really a personal article.

Well, in fact I haven't written a full length article about life and other shit in a long while.
Maybe it's just not my thing after all.

These words of despair will now follow with a song that has sunk deep inside me, and is slowly possessing me, convincing me the lyrics are solely about my life.

In reality, it really is frighteningly close.

Cast No Shadow
by Oasis

Here's a thought for every man who tries to understand
What is in his hands
He walks along the open road of love and life
Surviving if he can

Bound with all the weight
Of all the words he tried to say
Chained to all the places
That he never wished to stay
As they took his soul
They stole his pride

And as he faced the sun he cast no shadow.

Downer.

This evening, I spent 2 hours journeying through a countryside of pure nothingness as the sun set in the sky. The light was bending beneath and above the car I was riding in. And standing amidst this startling sight, I was taken aback by the passively depressive nature of it.

I'm still in awe of the ideas that came to me on this trickling journey. I started to write a few things down.

Back to poems again, I'm sorry to say. I'm sorry because I just can't write a happy poem. It just doesn't feel right, you know?

Maybe I'm not sad. I'm just pensive.

This poem doesn't have a name. I don't think it needs one. The lack of a title suits it perfectly, as the poem itself describes the indescribable.
The indiscernable.

Don't ask me who the female character ("she"/"her") in this is. I'm really not talking to anyone in particular.
The words just give you a sample of the kind of landscape that surrounded me at that time.
Most people would call it beautiful or amazing.
It was just a deep, spiralling pit of melancholy to me.

How about you read on to taste some of this pensiveness.

--

I could see the end of the world in her eyes
As we gather our lives
In cries and sighs.

We've sucked the will to live
Out of our worn out womb
And so the planets align
To make out the shadow of a tomb.

The curves of her face only just inspire me
When I'm staring up,
Depressed so convincingly.

Keeping me a unit
Above the fearful fate I've carved
Does not make me feel alive
I'm just an empty soul that has starved.

I might be dead of alive in the middle of nowhere
The thought of lying beside the void
Might be getting me somewhere.

I fly beneath indifference
Far from love
For I now know, that in any world
Peace is no dove.

Peace is just a machine
A huge break from that dream.

My spirituality
Offers no dramatization
As far as you can see
Watch out for me
As I journey on the path
To self-realization.

--

I'm afraid by the words I can draw out of my mind, and the ties that bind.
I really need to hit the ground and find the world again.

Champagne supernova.

Well here I sit once again. In front of my computer after a long and eventful day.

It's good to feel at home and at ease. With the likes of At The Drive-In, Death Cab For Cutie and Oasis blasting out of my speakers and all the great memories from today to keep me company.

Life is immaculate at the moment.
Living with and meeting a lot of new exciting people.
Discovering a whole range of different things.

Go back to the march archive and read "Happy Accidents and Peaceful Riots" if you can be fucked.
I really have changed a lot.
It seems like a fucking age since last march.

I've been happy many times before, but never like this.
I don't feel like bitching about anything right now.
I feel no anger, pain, envy or melancholy.
I just feel like living.

This might well be what happiness is.

A sense of abstract.

Today was a good day. At the moment I'm stellar.
But the euphoria of when I'm with my friends lasts for another few hours after the great moments have passed. But then I'm once again left with these fucking melancholic thoughts and this website to type shit up on.

I'm too lazy to type many more things about me being a whiny white kid that finds sadness in a life that is offering me many happy days.
Read this poem. I wrote it not long ago, and it's different from everything else I've ever written. It doesn't tell a "story" like other poems do. It's just a list of images, two words put together to paint an unnerving painting of mystery.

It will mean a different thing to everyone of you. Because, like I've said many times before, we all react to everything in a different way. The picture or painting will be ridiculously different in every single one of your minds.

Let the confusion ingulf and embrace you.
This is just to give you a sense of abstract.

Sundown Forever

Little brother.
Bad paperdoll.
Disgraced mother.
Emergency call.

Hit the ground.
Weep again.
Hear the sound.
Avoid the train.

Dive to sea.
Crave hereafter.
Climb the tree.
Escape the cluster.

Break the cycle.
Freeze the fever.
Weak disciple.
Sundown forever.

Stoned for more.
See the light.
Make it sore.
Close it tight.

Sit back and cry.
Destroy the den.
Crawl away, die.
And start again.

Why am I still posting depressive shit on this site when I'm so happy in the daytime?

On these slow nights when I don't go out, I'll always turn back to this blog. It's fucking stupid really.

I was sliding away but chasing the sun is easier.
I'm still stupidly happy during the day and on some nights. But not now. Right now, I'm in a self-induced trance, reaching inside the pit of my guts to bring you some of the neat and fluid strings of sentences that I type out here. These sentences that you probably think will give you the answer to life.

I don't know anything really.
All I know is that I'm still fucking typing.
But you know, I've still got plenty of stuff to ramble and rant about.
Just to let you know, I'm not going away just yet.

Stellar.

You know, I'm really starting to dig this whole new "there is no answer to life, so let's have fun" thing. It's a good vibe.

Maybe change really isn't so bad after all.

But don't you worry, I'm still sorry for a lot of things.
I know sorry isn't enough. Nothing is ever enough.

But I'm still digging this whole new thing.
Looks like we've found the good times again.

I don't know if it's too much to ask after all the good stuff I've been getting, but can I put these last few days on repeat?

Chase the sun before it's time to slide away.

So I wrote this short narrative the other day, and I thought it could be a decent thing to share, instead of swearing for 9 paragraphs (watch me spill my guts and go ape shit in the article below).

The narrative captures a relatively short moment I wish I could've saved. I wish I could've filmed it or taken a picture. But instead of a slurred motion picture or a neat snapshot, all I am left with is regret.
It's a moment that felt familiar at first. I feel I have already experienced it, but only now can I feel its looming presence over my shoulder.

What is below could spark the beginning of a novel or something. But then again, all I wanted was to capture and imprison that unique moment of extreme solitude concealed through layers of cold-heartedness.
All I want is to take revenge on that moment that imprisoned me that evening.

That moment is imprisoned in the serene flow of words that follows below:

--

I sat outside that night. The breeze was bitter, but the air was soothingly cool. It was a wonderful evening. A hint of fertility amidst the dry, blazing summer days that made up the asphyxiating month of august. I stared at the fiery flames settled into the welcoming womb of the sun setting in the sky. Those flames were there every night, tainting that otherwise pristine skyline. Always there. In that spot.
Unmovable.

I sat in an unnerving position that was twisted but still comfortable. My phone (only substantial connection to the world) was lying to my right. My hand curled around a beer to my left.
The wind got stronger and the subliminal noises were amplified. It made me feel small. The chairs rocked harder, the bells jingled louder, the water rippled stronger.

I took a sip of my beverage, savouring every tasty drop of that Heineken labelled wonder of liquid bliss. For the first time, I was enjoying this.
With all the insane days and nights I had experienced, on holiday and at home, I had never taken the time to stop and wonder at some of the fine subtelties this devious world has to offer.

Music was playing at half volume on my phone. To reinforce the already seductive soundtrack of the moment, Elliott Smith's "Needle in the Hay" followed by Oasis's "Gas Panic" were summoned. They are two of the most dazzling songs ever written.

With all these components present, I felt a glimmer of déja vu as the last rays of the sun penetrated the clouds, turning them a glossy pink and purple. I felt like Tom Cruise in "Vanilla Sky".
This moment didn't feel real. All of a sudden I lost myself, and found myself in the limbo-like feeling of not knowing whether you're awake or dreaming.

Then I hit the floor and realised. It's fucking over.
My period of immortality. Our period of immortality. Tomorrow we will be reluctantly dragged back. But, in the great words of the Beatles and Oasis: "Tomorrow never knows what it doesn't know too soon".

The sun was shining it's final rays, dissolving the great abyss of daylight. Leaving an almighty chasm of doubt for me to gaze into.

I have run across summer. I've never had this much fun in what is usually a pretty slow time. Only now do I realise that 2 months have passed and I am not the same.

I took a sip of my beer. My phone died and so the seductive soundtrack was obliterated by an aching silence. I was now out in the open.
My bottom lip curled furtively around my teeth. A playful movement some might say, as I was trying not to lose track. But sometimes to understand you have to lose track.

I think that that's what happened. I lost track. And here I stumble onto this stepping stone that is oh so far away from each riverbank.

I had lost myself. I'd started to confuse my emotions. I didn't really know who I was.

It's as if I was looking at myself through someone else's eyes. What I saw was surprising.

I thought I had complete control. That by documenting all of this on my blog I would be in control of everything I feel and have.

I was infinitely wrong. I really can't keep track. I think that the inexorable stream of life will take me somewhere where I can keep track again. Now that I'm young and admittedly stupid, I have to let go and appreciate everything this icewarm world has in stall.

--

I don't know where that narrative came out from.
The fucking thing wrote itself. But all of it is hauntingly true. I'm losing control of what I thought I could master.

I have spent all this time chasing the sun. Now it's time to stop.

It's not so bad though, because now it's time to slide away.
Tomorrow won't know.
Tomorrow never knows.