Nightmares @ MindSay 
dreams
We Smoke The Bones of Baby Dolls
My mind is drawing a blank. All I can think of are pictures. I'm thinking IN pictures. Pictures. Images. Thoughts. Reality. Mind.
I write things down to remember. I write things down so I won't forget. I write things down so I won't forget to remember. It's possible.
It's easier not to care. Sometimes I wish I was still depressed. It was easier. Reminds me of...
DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY
"So. this is how it feels to die? But it's okay. Yeah, everything's okay."
I can't paint anything anymore. I can't draw anymore. I mean - it's there, I have the ability, but nothing comes to my head anymore. I can't even listen to music and just paint or draw what I feel anymore. What medium do I use now? Photography is too easy. Am I destined to make shitty blog entries for the rest of my life? Everything has been done before. Maybe I'll try writing again. Or am I destined to continue writing fuckass haiku poems on my cell phone to pass time? Abusing the body is a boring art form. My scars will tell you that. All I can do is trace over my scars and hope for some artistic inspiration.
I still don't have a nickname. I thought about using Grave, you know, because I want to be a Mortician, but I'm sure I'll be called emo and shit. Hurr durr - fascination with death = emo now, or so the "in-crowd" claims.
I'm good at psychoanalyzing myself. I used to pick myself apart when I was bored. I've figured myself out for the most part now, so I'm bored with my emotions. I want to experience a new emotion or one that I haven't felt in a long time. I want to play with my mind. But what is there to do with it? I mean - the shrinks had such a fun time drugging me up and digging around in my memories, why the fuck shouldn't I have that chance?
If I didn't feel physical pain, I'd jump at the chance to rip myself apart and look inside. I'd probably bleed to death, but what better way to die than by your own, murderous hands?
"Mountains. Heavy are the mountains. But that changes with the passage of time.
Sky, blue sky. What your eyes can't see. What your eyes can see.
The sun. One, only one.
Water. It is a grey pool. Commander Ikari.
Flowers. So many the same, so many without purpose.
Sky. Sky of red. Red the colour, the colour I hate.
The liquid flows. It drips, ripples, and pours. Blood. Scent of blood, woman who does not bleed.
On the red soil the humans come. Humans made by man and woman.
City. A human creation. EVA. A human creation as well.
What are humans? Are they creations of God? Humans, and that which is created by humans.
This is that which is mine. My life; my heart. I am a vessel for my thoughts.
The entry plug; the throne of the soul. Who is this? This is me.
Who am I? What am I? What am I? What am I? What am I...
I am I.
This object that is myself, that which forms what is me. This is the self that can be seen and yet it is not like that which is myself.
A strange feeling. My body feels as if it is melting. I can no longer see myself, my form, my shape...It fades from view.
Awareness dawns of someone who is not mel; who was here, there, beyond me here.
Shinji? This person I know, Major Katsuragi. Doctor Akagi. People. My classmates. The pilot of Unit 02. Commander Ikari?
Who are you? Who are you? Who are you..."
"I wonder when it started... the drifting... It's like my mind and body have come apart, little by little...
Whenever something sad... or painful... happens
It's like there's another me who watches it... like it's happening to someone else, thinking... "that's not me." It's okay. I can live like that. I'll lock my heart deeper away. I won't have to feel pain outside or inside... or fear...
I WON'T HAVE TO FEEL ANYTHING AT ALL!"
*NOTE: I do not EXPECT anyone to reply to any of my bullshit entries or even read them. It's nice when I get advice, but I don't expect people to respond. When I signed up for Mindsay, I did it so I could just get my thoughts down. I doubted anyone would reply. So please, don't feel that you HAVE TO reply or give me advice.*
- Not everything needs to be analyzed and picked apart.
- It's okay to do stuff without reason.
- Sometimes it's okay to forget everything for awhile.
- Acting silly and childish will keep you young.
- Indulge in your every pleasure.
- Nothing is immortal, not even Vampires.
- Live like you're going to die any second.
- Lower your expectations to avoid disappointment.
My mind is drawing a blank. All I can think of are pictures. I'm thinking IN pictures. Pictures. Images. Thoughts. Reality. Mind.
I write things down to remember. I write things down so I won't forget. I write things down so I won't forget to remember. It's possible.
It's easier not to care. Sometimes I wish I was still depressed. It was easier. Reminds me of...
DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY DEATH IS EASY
"So. this is how it feels to die? But it's okay. Yeah, everything's okay."
I can't paint anything anymore. I can't draw anymore. I mean - it's there, I have the ability, but nothing comes to my head anymore. I can't even listen to music and just paint or draw what I feel anymore. What medium do I use now? Photography is too easy. Am I destined to make shitty blog entries for the rest of my life? Everything has been done before. Maybe I'll try writing again. Or am I destined to continue writing fuckass haiku poems on my cell phone to pass time? Abusing the body is a boring art form. My scars will tell you that. All I can do is trace over my scars and hope for some artistic inspiration.
I still don't have a nickname. I thought about using Grave, you know, because I want to be a Mortician, but I'm sure I'll be called emo and shit. Hurr durr - fascination with death = emo now, or so the "in-crowd" claims.
I'm good at psychoanalyzing myself. I used to pick myself apart when I was bored. I've figured myself out for the most part now, so I'm bored with my emotions. I want to experience a new emotion or one that I haven't felt in a long time. I want to play with my mind. But what is there to do with it? I mean - the shrinks had such a fun time drugging me up and digging around in my memories, why the fuck shouldn't I have that chance?
If I didn't feel physical pain, I'd jump at the chance to rip myself apart and look inside. I'd probably bleed to death, but what better way to die than by your own, murderous hands?
"Mountains. Heavy are the mountains. But that changes with the passage of time.
Sky, blue sky. What your eyes can't see. What your eyes can see.
The sun. One, only one.
Water. It is a grey pool. Commander Ikari.
Flowers. So many the same, so many without purpose.
Sky. Sky of red. Red the colour, the colour I hate.
The liquid flows. It drips, ripples, and pours. Blood. Scent of blood, woman who does not bleed.
On the red soil the humans come. Humans made by man and woman.
City. A human creation. EVA. A human creation as well.
What are humans? Are they creations of God? Humans, and that which is created by humans.
This is that which is mine. My life; my heart. I am a vessel for my thoughts.
The entry plug; the throne of the soul. Who is this? This is me.
Who am I? What am I? What am I? What am I? What am I...
I am I.
This object that is myself, that which forms what is me. This is the self that can be seen and yet it is not like that which is myself.
A strange feeling. My body feels as if it is melting. I can no longer see myself, my form, my shape...It fades from view.
Awareness dawns of someone who is not mel; who was here, there, beyond me here.
Shinji? This person I know, Major Katsuragi. Doctor Akagi. People. My classmates. The pilot of Unit 02. Commander Ikari?
Who are you? Who are you? Who are you..."
"I wonder when it started... the drifting... It's like my mind and body have come apart, little by little...
Whenever something sad... or painful... happens
It's like there's another me who watches it... like it's happening to someone else, thinking... "that's not me." It's okay. I can live like that. I'll lock my heart deeper away. I won't have to feel pain outside or inside... or fear...
I WON'T HAVE TO FEEL ANYTHING AT ALL!"
*NOTE: I do not EXPECT anyone to reply to any of my bullshit entries or even read them. It's nice when I get advice, but I don't expect people to respond. When I signed up for Mindsay, I did it so I could just get my thoughts down. I doubted anyone would reply. So please, don't feel that you HAVE TO reply or give me advice.*
Ramblings (Beware: Lengthy Passage Ahead!)
For the past three nights, I've had dreams and woke up remembering them. Last night to help stimulate my mind before I went to bed, I cracked open this book called 'Death Scenes' which contain detailed photographs of people who were murdered or killed themselves. Sure enough, when I went to bed I had a dream where my dog attacked me and I ended up trying to convince my dad to kill her. That's pretty close to a nightmare.
Using the right dosages of Cystospaz (Hyoscyamine), Urised and Lomotil (Atropine), a Scopolamine Patch, and the finger bone of a living person, you can bring a person back to life. And they won't even be a zombie; they'll just be their same old selves again. If you can't find a Scopolamine Patch, you can use the plant Datura, but it's illegal in some countries and states. All you have to do is crush and mix it all up together and pour it down the dead person's throat and ta da! It's a good way to bring back Grandma, don't you think? Haha!
I found this song by Modest Mouse called Dramamine. It's fucking beautiful. Brings back those memories of when I overdosed. You know, aside from the extreme nausea and the eventual death, it felt pretty damn good. It wouldn't have been so horrible if I hadn't been on anti-depressants and No-Doz. Oh well - at least I have a story to tell, an experience, an almost near-death experience at that. Lucky me!
I wish sometimes that I didn't have a home, that I lived on $10 a day, crawling through life one hotel and shit-job at a time, barely able to survive, pale skin, and bones making tents of flesh... seems like fun to me. Dunno why, just does. I am thankful though that I do have a home, clothes, food, etc. Living just the opposite is also appealing.
I realized today just how paranoid I really am. I was walking my dog around the block around 7 PM. Normally, no one else is out walking, but today I spotted some guy taking a stroll. I looked behind me and saw him go down the road that I just came out of. A couple feet later, I looked back and he was behind me again. I felt that today was my last day on earth. I knew he was going silently run up behind me and bash my dog in the skull and then slit my throat and run off. I quickened my pace. I looked back when I got the stop sign to find that he was still behind me. Only when I got to the next stop light did I turn around and see that he had disappeared. I guess I always assume the worst. Oh sure, I tried to reason with my imagination and tell myself that he, too, was just out for a brisk walk. I always feel like everyone is literally out to get me. I walk anywhere and feel like hundreds of hungry eyes are watching me. Fuck - I'm so damn paranoid. Next time I go for a walk, I'm carrying my fucking knife with me. If some asshole is going to try and slit my throat, I'm spilling his blood too.
Spilling blood reminds me of this passage that I read in a book. This guy had AIDS and said that if anyone tried to fuck with him, he'd slit his wrist and throw blood into the attackers eyes. Haha! That's one way to look at AIDS - as a potentially concealed weapon. Too bad the character never had the chance to use his infectious weapon.
I've been reading a lot lately and it seems like EVERYONE has a nickname. I want one too! Some of the characters nicknames were things like Ghost, Twig, Nothing, Spooky, etc. Fuck that's awesome. I want a cool nickname, not one that assholes at school gave me (Ellis Island).
DRAMAMINE
Travelling swallowing dramamine
Feeling spaced breathing out listerine
Id said what Id said that I'd tell ya
And that youd killed the better part of me
If you could just milk it for everything
I've said what I'd said and you know what I mean
But I still can't focus on anything
We kiss on the mouth but still cough down our sleeves
Travelling swallowing dramamine
Look at your face like you're killed in a dream
And you think youv'e figured out everything
I think I know my geometry pretty damn well
You say what you need so you'll get more
If you could just milk it for everything
I've said what I said and you know what I mean
But I can't still focus on anything
Using the right dosages of Cystospaz (Hyoscyamine), Urised and Lomotil (Atropine), a Scopolamine Patch, and the finger bone of a living person, you can bring a person back to life. And they won't even be a zombie; they'll just be their same old selves again. If you can't find a Scopolamine Patch, you can use the plant Datura, but it's illegal in some countries and states. All you have to do is crush and mix it all up together and pour it down the dead person's throat and ta da! It's a good way to bring back Grandma, don't you think? Haha!
I found this song by Modest Mouse called Dramamine. It's fucking beautiful. Brings back those memories of when I overdosed. You know, aside from the extreme nausea and the eventual death, it felt pretty damn good. It wouldn't have been so horrible if I hadn't been on anti-depressants and No-Doz. Oh well - at least I have a story to tell, an experience, an almost near-death experience at that. Lucky me!
I wish sometimes that I didn't have a home, that I lived on $10 a day, crawling through life one hotel and shit-job at a time, barely able to survive, pale skin, and bones making tents of flesh... seems like fun to me. Dunno why, just does. I am thankful though that I do have a home, clothes, food, etc. Living just the opposite is also appealing.
I realized today just how paranoid I really am. I was walking my dog around the block around 7 PM. Normally, no one else is out walking, but today I spotted some guy taking a stroll. I looked behind me and saw him go down the road that I just came out of. A couple feet later, I looked back and he was behind me again. I felt that today was my last day on earth. I knew he was going silently run up behind me and bash my dog in the skull and then slit my throat and run off. I quickened my pace. I looked back when I got the stop sign to find that he was still behind me. Only when I got to the next stop light did I turn around and see that he had disappeared. I guess I always assume the worst. Oh sure, I tried to reason with my imagination and tell myself that he, too, was just out for a brisk walk. I always feel like everyone is literally out to get me. I walk anywhere and feel like hundreds of hungry eyes are watching me. Fuck - I'm so damn paranoid. Next time I go for a walk, I'm carrying my fucking knife with me. If some asshole is going to try and slit my throat, I'm spilling his blood too.
Spilling blood reminds me of this passage that I read in a book. This guy had AIDS and said that if anyone tried to fuck with him, he'd slit his wrist and throw blood into the attackers eyes. Haha! That's one way to look at AIDS - as a potentially concealed weapon. Too bad the character never had the chance to use his infectious weapon.
I've been reading a lot lately and it seems like EVERYONE has a nickname. I want one too! Some of the characters nicknames were things like Ghost, Twig, Nothing, Spooky, etc. Fuck that's awesome. I want a cool nickname, not one that assholes at school gave me (Ellis Island).
DRAMAMINE
Travelling swallowing dramamine
Feeling spaced breathing out listerine
Id said what Id said that I'd tell ya
And that youd killed the better part of me
If you could just milk it for everything
I've said what I'd said and you know what I mean
But I still can't focus on anything
We kiss on the mouth but still cough down our sleeves
Travelling swallowing dramamine
Look at your face like you're killed in a dream
And you think youv'e figured out everything
I think I know my geometry pretty damn well
You say what you need so you'll get more
If you could just milk it for everything
I've said what I said and you know what I mean
But I can't still focus on anything
Lucid Dreams
I had my first lucid dream last week, and let me tell you, it was f'ing insane! It started with me levitating above my bed, and then actually getting out of bed and "fighting" with a ghost (that I couldn't identify). After about 10-15 seconds I realized I was awake, but it was soooo weird and bizarre.
I read that only 10% of people experience lucid dreams in their lifetime, so I guess it's kinda cool. I'd be really skeptical if anyone told me about their own lucid dreams prior to it happening to me, but now I know it's for real. Anyone else had one they care to share?
I read that only 10% of people experience lucid dreams in their lifetime, so I guess it's kinda cool. I'd be really skeptical if anyone told me about their own lucid dreams prior to it happening to me, but now I know it's for real. Anyone else had one they care to share?
A blog in the affected manner of one who has just reread Pride and Prejudice
Finally back from the grandmother visit. If I had all the patience in the world and the desire to drag up painful memories I would relate here the entirety of my cold acquaintance with my maternal grandmother. Being as I do not have such an affected mood at the present, I will discourse on other matters.
Principal of these is that I had the opportunity to see “The Dark Knight”, and upon the occurrence of said opportunity I seized it with zeal. Truly, truly a great mix of movie tragedy and dramatics, and captivated my imagination enough to stop the nightmares I had been entertaining in the previous three nights of sleep. Let us hope that I can continue this streak through tonight.
I am tired, so I will end with mentioning that I nicked several of my grandfather’s CDs from his collection (as my grandmother has no delight for music, whatsoever). If scary movies cannot fix my dreams, hopefully Debussy can.
past & future lives
Lately I've been having wedding-related nightmares -- all boiling down to me finding myself with things half done or not done at all on the day before the wedding. In last night's dream I had forgotten, or neglected, to book hair and makeup appointments. Sadly, given my tendency to procrastinate, these sleepy imaginings aren't so far-fetched. :) Ack!
I learned tonight that the music of 1999, at least according to MuchMoreRetro (a Canadian music video channel), already qualifies as "retro." Watching 90s videos is always a little disconcerting since despite my being in their target demographic, I missed many of them the first time around (combine two parts sheltered childhood, one part depressive oblivion, one part geekish detachment from popular culture, throw in a little miscellany...you get the picture). You hear of people trying to recapture youth by throwing themselves into current youth culture -- but here I am, almost 29, channeling 1996, a year I refuse to accept as A Long Time Ago...because I still haven't put it to rest, and acknowledging the long ago-ness of a time that in some ways feels so recent means admitting that I could be Getting Old, which is turn makes me feel even older for using old-people platitudes about time flying faster the older you get. And yes, I do realize that old is relative and 30 isn't 80...but I do have a bittersweet, behind-the-times, stranger-in-a-strange-land sensation of having lived forty lifetimes but having fallen asleep through the good parts.
And lest anyone jump to such a conclusion, I am not stoned, drunk, or coffee-buzzed. ;)
On a 90s-music related note -- what the heck kind of excuse for a lyric is "missing you like candy"? Oh, Mandy.
I learned tonight that the music of 1999, at least according to MuchMoreRetro (a Canadian music video channel), already qualifies as "retro." Watching 90s videos is always a little disconcerting since despite my being in their target demographic, I missed many of them the first time around (combine two parts sheltered childhood, one part depressive oblivion, one part geekish detachment from popular culture, throw in a little miscellany...you get the picture). You hear of people trying to recapture youth by throwing themselves into current youth culture -- but here I am, almost 29, channeling 1996, a year I refuse to accept as A Long Time Ago...because I still haven't put it to rest, and acknowledging the long ago-ness of a time that in some ways feels so recent means admitting that I could be Getting Old, which is turn makes me feel even older for using old-people platitudes about time flying faster the older you get. And yes, I do realize that old is relative and 30 isn't 80...but I do have a bittersweet, behind-the-times, stranger-in-a-strange-land sensation of having lived forty lifetimes but having fallen asleep through the good parts.
And lest anyone jump to such a conclusion, I am not stoned, drunk, or coffee-buzzed. ;)
On a 90s-music related note -- what the heck kind of excuse for a lyric is "missing you like candy"? Oh, Mandy.
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