sol-ip-sism
the theory that only the self exists or can be proved to exist.

to sum up many hours, days, months, years...
i remember saying things, but i have no idea what was said. it was generally a friendly conversation.
it's no one's fault, really. or maybe it's everyone's fault.
the mass media causes sexual misdirection: it prompts us to need something deeper than what we want. This is why woody allen has made nebbish guys cool; he makes people assume there is something profound about having a relationship based on witty conversation and intellectual discourse. there isn't. it's just another gimmick, and it's no different than wanting to be with someone because they're thin or rich or the former lead singer of whiskeytown. and it actually might be worse, because an intellectual relationship isn't real at all. my witty banter and cerebral discourse is always completely contrived....
very soon, i will have nothing more to say, and we will be sitting across from each other at breakfast, completely devoid of banter; he will feel betrayed and foolish, and i will suddenly find myself actively trying to avoid spending time with a man i didn't deserve to be with in the first place.
[this is NOT my current case-perfection as i know it is at my fingertips {appreciation}]
perhaps this sounds depressing. that is not my intention. i am only proving a point. this is all normal. there's not a lot to say during breakfast. i mean, you just woke up, you know? nothing has happened. if neither person had an especially weird dream and nobody burned the toast, breakfast is just the time for chewing cocoa puffs and/or wishing you were still asleep. but we've been convinced not to think like that, silence is only supposed to happen as a manifestation of supreme actualization, where both parties are so at peace with their emotional connection that it cannot be expressed through the rudimentary tools of the lexicon; otherwise, silence is proof that the magic is gone and the relationship is over (hence the phrase "we just don't talk anymore"). for those of us who grew up in the media age, the only good silence is the kind described by the hair metal band Extreme. "more than words is all i ever needed you to show," explained gary cherone on the pornograffiti album. "then you wouldn't have to say that you love me, cause i'd already know." This is the difference between art and life: in art, not talking is never an extension of having nothing to say; not talking always means something. and now that art and life have become completely interchangable, we're forced to live inside the acoustic power chords of nuno bettencourt, even if most of us don't know who the fuck nuno bettencourt is.

i believe in life.
& with that comes, love, art, thought, beauty...
heaven on earth

a few words

i am a happy person.
practically always & i like things that way.
if something doesn't make me happy, i get rid of it, that's just how it has to go, i've learned.
(i love johnny depp right now. & tim burton. correction; i always love johnny depp.)
even though things are always complicated, that is just something that comes with being alive, and i have learned to work through the complications & make shit work.
i am happy with my situations right now.
lucky me.
'never waste sweet things on people who cannot taste them'. so true. try it
try this too...don't get mad at dumb things. 'will it matter in 5 years?' ask yourself this question. if the answer is no, then quit fretting. the answer is almost always no.
last but not least...never give up. never stop caring. (though i feel it is not humanly possible to not care)
eat, drink & be merry.

my life, 09.

Fitter, happier, more productive,
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries ,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at
(moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick,
that's driven into
frozen winter shit
(the ability to laugh at weakness),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics.