am_subwayrides
Yesterday a poor soul of a man sat down across from me. Gaze wild with spirits and his dirty hands wrapped around his plastic bottle of what clearly was an alcoholic mixture. His rotten smile quickly revealed the way his drinking had numbed, but not quite triumphed, over his discontent with the world. So I decided to make this a new series and dedicate it to him. To him and the pain that’s always underneath - the struggle to exist at all. Read you tomorrow, for 8,9,10 subway stops on my way to work. __090419
___
Next day, new faces, no real words. Silent observing the individuals of the crowd and glimpses of my tired reflection. Yesterday exhausted me. Too much of the good will drain you too, you know. Though I know they’re with me I am missing my lovers, my friends to cuddle with and the random, somewhat ridiculous way I would float among our party guests in total anonymity. There was a silence to being surrounded, which the quiet of solitude cannot quite compensate. Four stops left and all where I wanna be is four days ahead, waking up to nothing but sunshine on my face and his hand around my waist. __100419
___
I saw a woman this morning on the platform, that struck me by her presence. There was a fierceness to the way she didn't wear office attire and was yet on her way somewhere, strutting amongst us 8am penguins. Her oversized bright blue sweater couldn't hide the fact that she was wearing a beautiful body underneath. Her hoodie demonstratively pulled up to shut out the world that clearly wasn't made for her. Maybe it was her incongruence that reminded me of my yearning for creative freedom and the way I am playing chameleon amongst a herd of ants. Or maybe it was the way everyone’s tired Thursday-eyes made me wish for slow mornings and midday sex. But for now I am satisfied by a daily indulgence, sweeter than coffee runs or chocolate muffins: a new perception for the way I need to run my life. __110419
___
Late. Late. Late. Again. Why is it that as soon as I taste the slightest drop of routine, I stop trying? Its like I overestimate my knowledge of (or capability in?) the surroundings, the way of the world, every time again. Still distracted by thoughts of you and how you say I’m the one always asking for more, when really you're the one making the rules. In life as in love, it seems, I’m a hopeless fool. __150419
___
Late. Late. Late. Again. Why is it that as soon as I taste the slightest drop of routine, I stop trying? Its like I overestimate my knowledge of (or capability in?) the surroundings, the way of the world, every time again. Still distracted by thoughts of you and how you say I’m the one always asking for more, when really you're the one making the rules. In life as in love, it seems, I’m a hopeless fool. __150419
___
I’ve been learning a lot about people taking the train every day. By the way each brings a piece of their world with them to not feel robbed of their unpaid time. The way silence is a given code binding us all, which only the occasional child is tolerated to violate. The way different smells find their way through the crowd like invisible snakes, and lure me into different memories. Some smell of irrational September nights and mornings, some of six years ago and some of only yesterday. Perhaps that’s the most interesting of all, the way watching all of them is revealing so much about me. And though it used to be easy, telling people to keep breathing, I’m learning to realize just how important it is to keep my natural pace. I mustn’t forget: this isn't what it’s about. __160419
____
There were some words floating around my head last night that I remember wanting to write about in the morning, before sleep stole them from me. There was something about my heart saying wait for me and my body being stretched through time like matter didn’t have three dimensional shape to it. I’m not sure you can entirely train your body to react any less sensitive to familiarly hurting patterns. Your mind may be up for it, but your heart will always remember what it once felt and make sure to remind you of it. And I’m sure there’s more to be said here from my side, but just like life these days, this new connection I’m taking to work is quicker than my mind can function right now. __170419
____
More life. More Everything. __180919
____
Today’s thoughts were too explicit to post. If you’re the lucky one responsible for them, I’ll send them to you later. __230419
___
____
More life. More Everything. __180919
____
Today’s thoughts were too explicit to post. If you’re the lucky one responsible for them, I’ll send them to you later. __230419
___
I hate that, this, of course, turned out to be another thing I began and left to die. I don't want to be that person anymore, who keeps having ideas and is energized by them for three days and then forgets about the excitement. Yeah things get in the way. Im lazy as fuck and don't get up early enough to take the slow way to work, that would give me 20 minutes to write every morning. So here I am. On a pm rant. Im not even gonna try and say this will be the new title or thing or anything. Im tired of labels anyway. things are what they are. Until they aren’t. So. No hesitation. No worrying, no stupid overthinking my commitment. Am I still talking about this blog? Does it matter? It shouldn’t. Because in those two minutes that it did matter, I again let it soften my - soften? Completely ‘cut off’ rather- my creative flow. Always hesitating, tip toeing around to avoid the landmines I keep laying out for myself. Ugh enough of this stupid self sabotaging already. - 020519 (6minutes way to work)