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Stavekick Hungerstall  
02:20pm 03/04/2008
 
 
The Masqued Man

You've stopped whispering
and are asleep. I go on listening

li-young lee

We lay on rumpled sheets
chests heaving,
I'm hungry, she's dreaming about work. I can't shut off my brain. I'm hungry. Everything I do makes me feel blue and dying. Dark thoughts crawl like ivy. Lately I feel like whatever song I'm listening to is narrating my life. My head feels like an indissoluble channel of feed static and I'm afraid the buzzing will wake her up. I go to the other room.


Vast white walls

frame my life. I do this a lot. It's called consideration. She does it too though. I can see her while we drive somewhere… in a maze of her own random thoughts, lost on a mental summit and trying not to project any of this activity onto me. I have my own quiet spells, and she respects that now. She would talk. But I encourage silence. At least until we cannot maintain it.


I encourage communication

also.
Just not in the middle of the night. How about a midnight snack? I'm hungry. Or, why worry about calorie intake when you can eat nothing and save yourself the trouble of adding it all up? I'm hungry. Not even thinking semi-clearly now. Thoughts just aren't coming to me right. Can't pick up the tempo. How about checking the internet?


Dood, everyone knos that Starbreath Foxsky journyed to teh astral plane in
1784 in an dirigible. Oh, and Emily and I hooked up today and it was superlative!


Dungeons, thieves, warriors, etcetera, etcetera


Haven't written in this journal since my mom died. Let me tell you about it…


I'm Narcissitic, I'm Pessimistic, Obsessive, Insecure, and I am so afraid of
intimacy that every one of my relationships is a journey of self-sabatoge

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
sniff*
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

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Everyone is just recycling pain.
Everyone
fighting their own private wars in mini-epic struggles.
My sites are a reservoir of useless information. Log onto the IM and there's my old friend 'Slicey':


SliceOGringo:
seriously my new job is fantastic dude
DMsqdMn17: great
SliceOGringo: i get rewarded for being artistic!! oh and check this

SliceOGringo: Amanda got an agent! and a illustrating gig that pays like really well

DmsqdMn17: yay

SliceOGringo: we're thinking of moving into a bigger condo
SliceOGringo: your up late… how are things in your neck of the woods

DmsqdMn17: Awesome!  Just Awesome!
DmsqdMn17: With Awesomecake and Extra Fucking Awesome Sauce!


Close the stupid computer. Close

that stupid dark personal trainwreck I call my life for a while and
try to straighten things out. Laying up thinking is a virtue. Why worry about the big picture, I figure. There is loads of time for us to grow old and die, until then I'm choosing sadness. Because life is simple and unbearable. For a while. I'm hungry and I don't know what to eat. I choose to breathe. I'm choosing to move away part by part. An hour a part. Empty hours filled with silent prayer to nothing. Artists as a whole are pretty unhappy people. Headed for ominous perceptual shutdown. Toss and turning, living in black and white and screaming yellow.


So angry at everything,
and also feeling mild

like everything on my horizon is being swallowed by a soot black hole and what's the point?
There's an old book I don't want, I can't afford, and I buy it anyway. Just to remember what the light is like? Maybe the path to freedom is uncertainty. Patience. Stoicism. Morning is coming. Morning has come. All obstacles eventually yield. 

I'm hungry.


Well all of that rambling
brings me to this: Last night she made a suggestion.


So sunrise
shines out in a blaze of rhymes and I am blind

Walking to the maildrop at dawn to slip in an empty envelope

Addressed to myself: marked;

"Return to sender"

mood: crushedcrushed
music: Be Not Afraid- North Styrenn
 
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