Not having a car is starting to get to me.
Also I am totally out of it...
Intellectually I am looking for stimulation but not feeling much emotionally. Its hard to fake it too.
Like I know I should care... but its kind of numb over here.
Doing things out of obligation but not really wanting to.
I have work to do and it seems hard to get into the right frame of mind.
I have doubts about the worth of most actions right now.
I am wondering if I just burned myself out on fantasy.
So introverted.

Emily some of your pictures of Japan make it seem otherworldly in a magical way.
Like Shinto devotion...



I am avoiding family obligations. Originally I was supposed to go out of town today but weather and other factors have me here. I love my family, I just hate the anxiety I have around holidays.



I just took a really hot shower. We haven't had the best results with hot water these past few months. I realized that part of my need for cleansing was semi scalding water(for a second or two). Leaves my skin dry and cracked and sometimes I get cuts and things from washing my hands so much... but it feels incomplete without a bit of burn. Nothing like knowing its all washed away.

from a random sketch/writing pad

Familiarity in each stranger's face
am I insane?
My memory faltering,
my senses opening to strange beyond
underneath your material guise, you're my friend
my past and future friend.
Only the present then,
is an illusion.

But in every science journal,
I read the opposite
frequently the sacred texts
opposite too.
How I am to trust my senses
listen to my breathing
feel the tightness of my muscles
the dizziness in my step
the queasiness in my stomach
if the underlying, music, is too beautiful
for my unperceptive ears
the truth so magnificent
my eyes blinded
by its flame
either we are one,
or, I, am insane.

She says "That's the dude... getting rid of his war anxiety in Europe"
and I picture me and a half dozen others
roaming lit streets
in old towns
they drunk
me joyful

How distracting it is
to sit here waiting
always a book or work to keep
me company, but despite my
stated purposes
I come here for you.

And see you in chatting lips,
across filled tables,
what is it you're saying?
and in cheekbones
jaunting out from
Books, I want to know about.

Find in curls and locks that hide
your eyes for a time,
and in your fancy boots
that have their own story too,
and in postures
which attract but,
don't show back
temptation.

So here I sit,
waiting on glances lit
with not just light
but question,
For I know my own have
signaled forth, to every
woman present.

The slowed down version


HMMMM its been a Damien Rice kind of day.
Cold out, but not too cold... as I drove away from my overnight spot I saw the man come to ticket me and felt good about the escape... did not feel so good about my busted side mirror (hit and run last night anyone?)

Anyway.... I skipped Spirit of Truth today... I skipped it and was glad for the extra time for myself. It felt good, but since then I have felt guilty like I am not holding up my end of the bargain... how I got myself into this I will never know.
I suppose its like family in that sense... suddenly you realize you have responsibilities that you should fulfill no matter what mood you are in.

I have been watching episodes of Dexter and like everyone else I love it. I am glad to have found a new show to get me out of myself. Its nice, it takes the time away.
I half assed decided last night with Illy that I would just give in and let the tide take me... spend my weekdays sleeping and my weekends a shut in. Play video games and watch tv shows and it would feel ... not good, but less tormented.

Maybe just for a bit could I be 17 again?
No stress to find a mate, be perfect at work, cocreate a church, be a member of a family, have a million friends... just be moody old mike... maybe drink coffee and read should I decide to go out.

Lacey asked me tonight if I was listening to depressing music... well yes and no. I was certainly listening to a lot of beautiful music that makes me sad... but I don't think it was meant to be depressing.

Steve and I talked a lot last night about these feelings... and I wasn't in it last night so it was easy for me to say "You have to find the right balance, you have to take care of yourself" as it was easy for me to say that to my students today... but when its so close and there doesn't seem to be any incentive to stay here its hard to not let your mind wander to that day dream world that seems so much more real, intense beautiful and sometimes so very awful.

Driving seems especially dangerous as I can't really tell if I am in control or just feel that way.
Screaming lyrics at the top of my lungs scratching my voice, because maybe something will give.

Its easy enough to say you should have done some light therapy tonight, but it doesn't fix the problems, just makes them go away for a while.

I spent 20 minutes tonight trying to remember why things weren't perfect that one time.

All I want to do is cry or create, either way I would have something to show for it.

Those wild eyes look nice in the mirror, at some point its easy to create your own illusions and the night is a calling and I am supposed to be responsible now.

I remember being crabby when I was young... I was moody as a teenager and now I feel like I can't be that (at least very often).

All I want is someone to crash into, who will listen to me talk about absolutely nothing -with interest. Who will hold me and not judge me for my insanity, someone who I trust to let me walk over the edge because I know they will pull me back...

I didn't think that was too much to ask, that's the thing I loved it, wanted it to work, I thought it was rather beautiful, but I couldn't always do it and it started feeling like I would fall in too.

and I wouldn't want to be around me when I am like this, so I don't know why anyone else would...

and the kids behind me in the booth at perkins made me question whether I will ever be a good father, because how could I be if part of me wants to be self destructive, even when I don't want to be I get pulled into it. And that waitress pissed me off from the first minute I saw her and I can't handle having those kinds of reactions... she was just too close and I felt too vulnerable to put up with people who annoyed me and I couldn't lean away like I needed to, and it was too bright. And those nice nice teens who were talkative and loud and touchy and good, who hid their cigarettes and had good clean fun, will probably be hurt and awful in a few months time... but having never known that, I really wonder what its like to be good, to not have to fight against everything to try to be.

and wouldn't it be easier to just give in?


Closest thing to unconditional love, and having had that taste... What else would do?

I just read this short story my brother wrote. I haven't seen anything he has written in a long time and was surprised by it, by the fact that its entertaining and speaks with a voice that doesn't sound like my brother. That he could put himself in the position of the character... this is not something I normally associate with him. I guess whenever I am reading something by someone I know I assume the narrator has some aspect of the author... but in this case, though I can imagine my brother thinking up the scenario it sounds like some movie character... but like a complete one. One that has a background a history.

I remember sneaking into my other brother's room when I was a teenager and reading his stories. They were different, the character was not him, but it was partially him and so though I didn't understand all the motivations I still understood that this aggressive character was also good.

I feel like its been quite a while since I wrote something I was proud enough to care about. Something I was excited by. Something I felt was truthful, if not of me, then of someone else, or some worldly truth.

But more than that... its been a while since I put myself in the shoes of someone else, at least in writing. I am sure I do this without thinking about 100 times a day... but to do it in writing takes skill... I am not sure I have ever done it well, but lately I feel my skills lacking.
Maybe I just got more comfortable occupying my own thoughts, or maybe I got less empathetic, either was I guess I miss it.

While thinking about this... I also was thinking how I have all of these books I never read. I think I have like 30-40 and I keep buying more.

I don't think my room is a very good space for being creative or reading. I get tired and bored easily here... or I find my computer more stimulating.