mad drunk genius

I used to have all sorts of problems. Now there's just the one.

Tag: nostalgia

The painful flavor of nostalgia

May 2, 2016
The trouble with romantic partners is
I see them as a burden rather than someone
to unburden myself to.
——A walk in the park & a bus ride thru part of
——the old neighborhood reminds me of what used
——to & cant be any longer.
Love I used to have is irrelevant now.
——It’s the painful flavor of nostaliga.
There’s still road constructions; that hasn’t changed.
But it seems like all the houses & who’s in them has.
——‘This used to be’ means one thing
——in photographs & another in mem’ry.
‘I dont live here; I just come for the chicken.’
——The city does actually feel different here.
——It’s the hills & the place of the horizon.
Eat, eat, eat. I’m a machine for consuming
but something broke

May 12, 2016
American cheese clumped on the power station wall
Gnats swarming in the wet soil of a potted plant

No life ever was meaningful, except to other people.

‘I mean, more needs-based education.’
——People are exhausting.
Bigotry needs an excuse; charity is its own.
——Make it till you can fake it.
Where harm is absent, sin is figment.
——Man in seated walker helped up steep hill by strangers.
A last precious sunny day warmth in true fall.
——Memory is never sent to kiln but always clay.
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Pieces of sober work scribbles

After the world ended,
it was much more peaceful.

I dont remember much about the womb
but always long for it.

Every feather grows by simple rules to find

‘A small group can change anything.’

Holler at your scion, representing occidental.

a sale is encouragement

give the people a reminder of why

the colour of lust

It’s like nostalgia except I’m living it.

The long stone stairway of myth, of legend, but really surrounded by
city. And there under the tongue till it disappears.
——’ “Oregon Holocaust Memorial.” The bathrooms?’
Rose Garden, enjoyed in our slender rainbow while the bees are keen to
what the flowers mean.
——Picture taking, to prove we were there.
Little daughters in galoshes dont want to take the easy down the amphitheater.
——The hedges are walls natural acoustic. It’s a lot to take in all at once.
‘When you’re a child, a year is forever.’ ‘Shit, a week is forever.’
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Marriage is a desire to do life with someone else.

——To wish things arent as they are
——is a useless & unfulfilling thing.
He is 14 & precocious, so it’s cute.
But his sister is not precocious & what
she does in front of him is not so cute.
——The best of the young fathers has no
——children but has uncled three generations.
I have a perverse sense of obligation when
it comes to stated contract.

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Better than it ever was

When you’re young, all you can think about is growing up. That next birthday, that next grade level. Getting bigger, getting to do more things. When you’re very young, you’re not self-aware enough to analyze your life or be able to imagine what a different kind of life is like, so I guess you could say they enjoy what they have, but they don’t appreciate it. A kindergartner can throw herself into a game of duck-duck-goose, or be swept up in a game of tag, but they can’t understand how much fun they’re having, or how great a feeling it is to be able to do that and think or worry about nothing else.

When you get a little older, you don’t even have that. You don’t want to play kiddy games or enjoy stuff you consider to be immature. You’re totally self-aware and completely unsatisfied. You want be twenty-one or older, able to drive and drink and be on your own and be the coolest dude or chick around. You want to be old enough that no one treats you like a kid or a nuisance, and you can’t believe how stupid everyone is for doing it anyway. You don’t realize how happy you could be, or the gifts you have right now, the relationships you can have with people and things you can do that you’ll never be able to do again.

You can’t appreciate your life as a kid. You don’t know how good you have it, and if someone told you, you wouldn’t believe them anyway. You get to be happier than you’ll ever be again in your life, and then when you get sad, it gets to be about trivial stuff that usually doesn’t end up mattering anyway. Schoolwork, teachers, having fights with your best friend since forever, or breaking up with the boy/girl you were going to love forever. Stuff people would kill to worry about later. Kids can’t appreciate how special that is because how could they?

If they could, they wouldn’t be children. If a child is wistful, nostalgic, and mature, he’s already grown up. It’s too late for him. It’s too late to go back, and even if he was in the body of his younger self again, he couldn’t enjoy it the way he did before.

Children don’t appreciate what they have, and that’s a good thing for what’s mentioned above, but also because that’s our job, because the appreciation makes our lives better. We get to be adults and experience all of those joys and sorrows that come along with being “grown up”. And we also get the memories of the childhood we want to remember, forgetting or ignoring the bad, so we get something that can be close to perfect. We get to appreciate the joy we felt as children as observers, so we can have both that pure feeling, and the deeper understanding.

I can’t go back in time and be seven again, but in my head the years melt away and it’s better than the past ever was.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but nostalgia…

[Original title: “Myspace, my memories”]

I’ve now become somewhat addicted to myspace, and I think I know why.

Myspace is a facsimile, or rather, a reminder of the old life. The high school/junior high life. It has all of the people you used to know acting the way you used to know them, and that brings contentment.

I wasn’t especially popular in high school. People knew me, people liked me, or at least they appeared to to my face, which is just as well. But even though I didn’t particularly enjoy high school, I enjoyed the societal framework that existed within it. I was the person I was supposed to be, the person I was meant to be. High school didn’t define me as a person, but all of the people I had known for the past ten or twelve years did. I was who they wanted me to be. I filled my role, and it was comfortable. It was comfortable to be a smartass or a pervert or a clever, witty guy or a slacker, because that’s what people wanted when they saw me. They knew who I was, so I did as well.

High school is not a great place, and it wasn’t that great for me. But all I can remember is the good stuff. When I’m on myspace and I see the pictures of the people I used to know, I remember the good experiences, and the comfort. Which is odd, it really is. I don’t want to name names because even though I know no one will likely ever find their way here or read this, I’d rather not sacrifice my anonymity and face consequences, however minor those consequences might be. So forgive me for speaking in generalities.

It’s odd because I dislike a lot of the people I see, especially the girls. I have a gut reaction of “faggot” when I see someone who’s twenty and can’t write coherently or has a goofy expression on his face. My eyes roll in my head and I feel immediately superior, but I don’t feel the hate I feel toward the girls I used to know with their plastered on smiles and disingenuity.

This is obviously hypocritical because I am one of the most disingenuous people you’ll ever meet. I often smile and laugh when I am completely disinterested or sometimes when I’m completely enraged. But when they do it, I don’t know. It just makes me angrier than I should be. Maybe I’m a misogynist. Who knows? But when I see them on myspace, I don’t think of that at first. I remember all of the times I saw her during school and the kind words and the genuine smiles. I have to work to hate them because those aren’t the first memories that come up.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but nostalgia does a good job as an anesthetic.