Moulin Rouge
Oct 4 th, 2008"Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love."
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FRAGILEBOB.COM
Incredulity
Sep 16th, 2008The following was sent to me by a self-proclaimed female non-sexist...
Whatever you give a woman, she's going to multiply.
If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby.
If you give her a house, she'll give you a home.
If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal.
If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart.
She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.
So - if you give her crap,
you will receive more shit than any one human being can handle
Love and appreciate all the women in your life.
What does it mean? What was the intention? My mind boggles...
Theories:
A) Women are only good for sex, making babies, keeping a home, cooking dinner, are easily charmed and swayed by a simple smile, and overreact causing explosive escalation in bad situations.
B) Men can't make babies, cant keep a home, and can't cook, but should provide sperm, housing, and bring home the bacon, while fearing pissing off women who may become emotional and overreact. And then men should be thankful and appreciative that they are allowed in the presence of such greatness.
C) Women are not responsible for anything they do. They are only results of what men do to them. Like a fleshy amplifier, put something in and it comes out bigger. Such a wonderful tool should be treasured.
D) Women are powerful and great...
So... what are men? Don't love and appreciate men? All I know is that when you start a sentence with, "Women are something," you are basically saying, "men are not." Why are we using the word "women", and not "people?" Why would a person who is not sexist separate the sexes so blatantly and proclaim superiority.
Line 2 I find inoffensive, except that it's not always true either, is it, pointless, but inoffensive. Fact is she'll keep the baby, not give it to you but, yeah, ok, whatever...
Was the real message here that...
I personally should treasure women, because I'm a man? I'm not lucky or good enough to have been born with a vagina, breasts, or eggs, so I should realize my station, live a half-life serving the opposite sex, begging for attention, worshipping the ground they walk on, fearing their god-like wrath, being careful not to show my feelings or emotions as it might offend them, accept any damage they do to me physically, mentally, or emotionally as my own fault or the fault of my fellow second-class sub-species and prostrate myself at each whim and belief they randomly (only to my weak male mind) base their perfectly god-blessed and righteous lives upon.
?
If so, cool beans. Doesn't seem sexist at all. :D
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Vanity
Aug 31th, 20081:00 am
Fragilebob: I wonder sometimes if women know how stupid they are. Men aren't born bad and many men try to be nice guys but then women only reward the absolute worst behavior, so men become assholes. And then women complain that men are assholes! It makes me want to rip my fucking hair out, poor gasoline on it, and start a fire I can burn myself in.
Moron-Child-Girl: Why do you say that?!
Fragilebob: Cause it's true.
Moron-Child-Girl: I don't agree with you
Fragilebob: Then your eyes are closed.
Prove me wrong.
I could be nice to you 'til hell froze over and you'd just avoid me and never talk to me because you would think I was fake. But if I was an asshole, if I said stupid and terrible things, if I got pissed off, you might even try to rescue me.
And thats the bullshit of it all. I am about the nicest f'ing guy you'll ever meet, but you would never know it til I lost my mind.
Maybe im talking to the wrong person.
But I need to vent.
I am losing my mind
I watch people
So simple and pathetic, and they dont even know it.
They hide behind pride, saying "its not true", saying "I dont believe that."
just so they dont ever have to think about it
Maybe its not everyone
But its almost everyone
Moron-Child-Girl: I’m sorry, I don't have to listen to what you say.
Fragilebob: So very kind and understanding of you.
Then go live your life.
Let the good people descend into madness.
Its not your responsibility.
Moron-Child-Girl: Maybe you told some truth but I don't wanna know and I have to go to sleep.
Fragilebob: Now I wanna throw up...
...................................
I was put in the dark, and kept in the dark, and left in the dark, and will die in the dark. I thought I had guardians. I thought I had faith, and so the predictable thing happens; everything evaporates and I'm falling through the cloud of myst that was so solid ten seconds before.
This is the curse of believing in anything, of caring about anything, of being sober for half a second. This is the thanks of being dependable, the rest of the world will never keep up. This is the result of being kind, you will be the first to spend all your energy. This is what happens when you try, you suffer the world judging and sneering at your pitiful failures.
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Vanilla Sky
Aug 24th, 20083:00 am
I just watched Vanilla Sky with a wonderful girl asleep in my arms. This is the kind of girl who makes you happy even when she's sleeping, sweet with her unconscious touch, aware of your mood, your comfort, your needs without opening an eye.
This is the first time I've written here about someone other than what I have deemed the current acceptable focus of my existence... the ramifications scare me, the audience is a part of my life, and their reactions, especially at this delicate time could unravel and undo everything I have hoped to accomplish... and I care, I care very much if that happens... it could destroy me.
This girl, a wonderful girl. Do I love her? I don't know. It doesn't matter.
I respect her. I find her fascinating and odd, open to things again like some others I have had the pleasure of meeting these days, but this one has no ability to fake the knowledge or understanding of the reality under realities, hidden by the careful mind, and yet she displays it so elegantly.
I imagine her to be alien, from a planet not too distant from that of my godfriend, not only in spirit and sense and empathy, but in physical being as well. These women, built long and strange, beautiful and haunting, strong and delicate, are not from this place. Devils, angels maybe, but not of this world.
I envy them. I am at most a hybrid, a giraffe, plagued by real world problems while trying to transcend the limits of human existence and the filters of acceptable perception. I feel lucky, honored, to have them touch my life, focus their energies upon me in such vigorous and flattering form. In some reality, I must be a tragically sensitive and self-deprecating penitent god, prone to bouts of self-induced amnesia and self-banishment to other planes of existence.
And they are here, tourists or saviors, employees or worshipers, mothers and sisters, fellow gods saving me in my delicate time on the brink of madness... I am with them and I know it can't exist, this reality. It is too perfect and too terrible all at once. Only when I am about to break do I find sudden salvation. Only when I am on the verge of contentment does the world fall apart. And with each cycle, the extremes, the limits are pushed further and further, coinciding with convenient physical plots and devices which can explain it all logically away.
She is laying behind me now... watching me, with eyes closed, breathing slow and mouth barely open... Perhaps I have stumbled on to a truth which she is here to prevent. Perhaps I will turn to find her open mouthed, fangs elongated, in mid-strike with the mission to save the rest of the cognitors in this reality from contemplating my uploaded thoughts. And then, maybe she is there to do nothing, nothing at all, to convince me yet again that such fantasy does not exist...
Or maybe she is here to guide me home, open my mind to re-find my immortality, possibly one of many with the shared purpose to bring me back.
But I am not ready. I have not exhausted this universe...
She flinched when I just wrote that...
And it's not true, and she knows it. I am tired, I do want to go home to that tragic and sad eternity. This one is difficult and senseless. But I also want to go on, maybe because I don't believe there is any alternative, maybe because I, as a perfectionist, must fix this place, or maybe... maybe because I found something I can't leave behind...
Missing pieces to myself are here on this plane. One I call little giraffe. I should explain, fellow giraffe...
Just before I began this entry, I wrote to her through Messenger:
"vanilla sky...
am i frozen?
are you dead?
life seems unreal without you"
Perhaps a bit trite and unfitting at the end of this entry, but they felt perfect 30 minutes ago.
Still, I know what they mean. They mean, "I love you." They mean, "I am afraid." They mean nothing that I could ever express in this English, an imperfect and overused language, where, if one were honest, one could never say "I love you" to different people because, though it could be completely true, it would never mean the same thing between any two different coupled souls...
But so I love, and I love, and I love... and so on... I play by the rules, my rules, the rules of respect and balance, discretion and sincerity. Even though I feel the emotion often, I am not irresponsible with these words. I save them for only the most exceptional of cases. I hold them like fire in my blood, and only when my veins are torn and hemorrhaging a red viscous steam do I allow myself to gently whisper the holy phrase...
"I love you..."
But for you, my little giraffe, my purpose, my reason, my anchor to this plane... you... you are one of my missing pieces... and, for you, these words could never be enough.
4:07 am
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Healthy
Aug 22th, 2008When I was 17, I asked my first girlfriend to burn her old love letters from her old boyfriend. She didn't really want to, but I asked her to anyway. We burned them in her bedroom. Her bedspread caught fire.
The fire didn't get out of control, but I think back... How stupid and insecure I was... and I stole her memories, burned her treasured past for my own insecurities. I think its one of the worst things I ever did.
Becca, I'm sorry. I wish I could get those letters back for you. I regretted that for a long time.
But I don't need to do that anymore. Not like that. Sure I want the time from the one I love. I want their respect and their honesty, but that's enough, I don't need to own them. In fact, I don't want to own them.
Its too easy to own someone, to control them. I would feel no accomplishment. I would feel there was no real emotion. I see everyone else controlling each other, men controlling women with money, women men with sex, both controlling each other with guilt and tradition or religion.
I just want to be loved as I love. I want my love to know she could freely walk out of my life with no financial or societal problems, and that I would support her in following her heart no matter where she went. I would want her to know that and still come home to me everyday because she loves me, because there's nowhere else she'd rather be, because our home is where her heart is. That is what a successful relationship is.
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Weatherman
Aug 22th, 20082:00 am
Can't sleep. Just watched a movie called 'The Weatherman' starring Nicholas Cage.
Nicholas Cage... He's really popular here in China. But the locals say his name rebuilt from chinese characters, so they sound like robotic "special" olympians when they say it.
He's been quite an influence in my life actually, seems to always follow me through some means or another. From my first to my last, every one of my girlfriends has thought he was "really handsome" or "really sexy." Despite that, I like him alot myself actually. He's got the look of a man with a good soul. He makes good movies. He seems like a nice guy.
How sad would it be if in real life, he were a dick... Oh well, maybe I'll meet im someday and find out.
Anyway, his movies often touch me... for whatever reason. And tonight, I watched "The Weatherman."
Adult life is not easy, you have to work hard to make it work.
The right thing and the hard thing are usually the same.
Sometimes you have to chuck the shit in life.
Life didn't turn out how I expected.
At the end all that was left was me.
Now word for word, I can't say I agree with all of it precisely. I guess people see what they want to see in things, and I took hope away from this, some reaffirmation, and a bit of guidance. This is how I translated it - Life will change. To some degree, you can direct it, but it wont be easy, it will take hard work, and the result won't be exactly what you expected. But if you try hard, you can still make something good out of the unexpected mess.
All in all, a good message.
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Its Time To Persevere
Aug 20th, 2008I have a god friend... god... is that a typo? I have a good friend. She is not closed to the other side like most. A few minutes after I had my disparriaging conversation yesterday, she sent me a message.
"I feel you unhappy now, by intuition, are you ok?"
Her english isn't perfect, but her meaning is clear. She's not in the city, and she's dealing with her own pain, but still she reached out, at a time I was crumbling. She knew I was crumbling, from thousands of miles away. This is a good person. A part of me believes her abilities are those any of us can have, but most of us ignore.
So like most of us, in support of good people, I didn't respond... I didn't have the energy.
'I don't have the energy'... God...That phrase... Its like a plague, this darkness. From one person to another, quick and slow and timeless and ancient. I heard those words last night. They were the words that destroyed me, those syllables dripping with apathy and sloth, more destructive than any man-made weapon could ever be... and I inherited them and used them after cursing my giraffe for uttering them to me...
Anyway, my friend wrote again, "Good night, bob. hope you are ok."
A few hours later, I wrote back, "Thanks, godfriend. Goodnight."
She wished me a good morning today as well. Again I wrote back sluggishly, "
Today, 4:48 pm
"Just had a nightmare. You are crying in my dream. Are you ok, bob? I feel you are unhappy now really." she pegged me again. I have been in denial all day. I think she knows my destiny better than I, or at least as well... I think she feels when I give up and let fate creep into my life. I think I have made a mistake.
I told the giraffe I gave up. I broke down and I blew up. I said a lot of things, true but callous. And it was her strength I was supposed to be. She is in a hard place, harder than I can say here.
"Its time to for me to be proactive, for me to be supportive. If destiny was easy, if everything was clear, then the result would be no true reward.
I am sorry, little giraffe. I am here if you need me. I do not give up. I will support you silently if need be. I still believe. I always will, even if I don't want to. This is real life. It is difficult and it is hard, and everything may not turn out as expected, but it is worth fighting for, and it is worth living for. Don't give up, little giraffe. Make the right choice this week. I can't know what that choice is, but I think you do. The right path starts with the right step. Choose a direction and find your destiny, but don't stop walking.
Love you."
This is the message I sent... now.
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Its Time To Smile
Aug 20th, 2008 |
TO- DAY IS A NEW DAY |
Its amazing what music can do. Its amazing what a kiss can create. Its amazing, the power of embrace. I smile a bit. I laugh a little. The world is still crumbling, but I wait patiently and catch the beautiful pieces as they fall. perhaps it is only hysteria.
Some things prove themselves to be a waste of time... nothing can be proven forever.
Some things are lost while waiting for nothing... nothing can be lost forever.
Fate is the result of all things if will is not exerted.
Destiny is the perfect conclusion.
Fate is for the lazy and tragic.
Destiny is for those of diligence and faith in whatever you call that noble path.
Is destiny common? Can one who believes in fate destroy another's destiny? Can one who believes in it change the fate of others?
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Chasing Oblivion
Aug 19th, 2008Why do I always choose the wrong car, the wrong job, the wrong woman, the wrong life?
I had a talk with mama giraffe tonight. It has inspired me, inpired me to give up. "It's real life." Apparently the only way to fix anything is to do nothing. If you arent happy, just accept it and make sure happiness stays out of reach.
I'm going downstairs to by a few bottles of Brandy. Maybe when I wake up, the world will be different.
Maybe I won't wake up at all. Either one is fine with me.
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Trinity
Aug 17th, 2008I've not been very clear about the direction that my life has taken these days, always talking in riddles, cryptically at all times if possible. There is rhyme to my reason. No, take that, reverse it.
I have found a sort of happiness I haven't know since I was just a kid. I fell into a triangle, deep and tangled and wonderful.
Baby, Myself, Mama
The first time I saw either of them, I saw them both together. Ironically, I remember thinking, "I want them both."
And here I must censor myself. I have written this story fully and deeply, but discretion must be maintained for the purpose of protecting the safety of another less romantic reality. This message is for those involved, and for those who know the story.
Suffice it to say, one of them understands everything and one of them can't possibly because she hasn't been allowed to. For the one who is lost, I just want to say, I am sorry. I would love to tell you everything. I wish I could. Deep in my soul, I do believe disclosure is the inevitable end of everything. But for now, for good reasons or bad, or reasons outside my control, you are in the dark. Just know my feelings for you are deep and inexplicable. Dreams of contentment and a happy and peaceful life for our small and magical world plague me, creating an impossible standard for any other way of living. You are not second or third, you truly are part of a larger something that even I don't understand. Please don't fear it. Don't distrust us. I long to know you better, more deeply. I fear that chance will be squandered through inaction or the practice of being safe and conventional.
To expect anyone on the outside to understand seems hopeless. Such an odd relationship, such a strange state of affairs. However, surprisingly, the support of the masses is there. There has not been one person who's ear I have told the tale to who didn't understand fully. It is as if there is some divine aura surrounding this island of beauty in a world of chaos. In fact, others have come to me, told me that they have dreamt of our future and confessed to knowing its beauty, and they have come to me before I have told them... with precognition and clarity. Of course I protect the identities of the two that complete me, a sad neccesity in this sad and fear-filled place, but I find more and more, I believe more and more, that that neccesity is an illusion, one which will fade.
It is a time of wonder in this, my small life. I have found once again I believe in reason, in purpose, in fate and destiny. All I can do is pray that this manifests into what it should become, that path with heart, the path of truth, and not what the impurity of reality, jealousy, fear, and practicality might twist it into. For this I work hard. For us, I work hard. For we three, I fight a deafening silent fight. I believe with a furious faith.
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Don't Resist The Direction
Aug 15th, 2008I dwell on my hand. The double love-line in particular. I know who they are, the shining beacons in my empty life.
I spent my youth collecting knowledge, looking for love, seeking understanding while they planned and scrimped and saved and followed. I have my freedom and my ideals, but they have a future and a family. I know better, but what is my knowledge without actualization? What is freedom without hope? What are ideals without a child to teach them to?
My eyes are... I don't know how to say it... There's a lump in my throat, but its behind my eyes.
I find hope in small things. My horoscope for yesterday was -
"Don't resist the direction you are being pulled toward. It is important to experience people, places and things if you want to make improvements. An old partner or friend will want to reestablish a position in your life."
The direction in my life...
Jaden sent me a message yesterday. The first time in a very long time... Partner from my past...
WHat is the direction in my life? I am afraid of it. I know it in my heart of hearts. I've been serious about startign a shop, a head shop in Shanghai, making some money, having some financial stability.
And the reason is what scares me, the reason is love. Like a sad little boy, I'm dreaming of the perfect woman and our life together. Creating a home and a small paradise for us to live in domestic bliss. I have fought against this cliche for so long that I'm afraid to change. I'm afraid she won't love what I become. I'm afraid I won't love what I become...
I know s he's worth it. I am inspired to change and a part of me has accepted it for it is reasonable and romantic. Another condolence is my hand.
I dwell on my hand alot these days, especially the double love-line. I know who they are. They are the shining beacons in my empty life. Are they the demon sirens in my black sea or are they the warrior angels in my pit of lions?
Don't resist the direction...
Help me, mama... Save me, baby
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Another Sleepless Night
Aug 16th, 20085:50 am
There is no great achievement that is not the result of patient working and waiting.
- J. G. Holland
Waiting and hoping are the whole of life, and as soon as a dream is realized it is destroyed.
-
Gian Carlo Menotti
Waiting is a trap. There will always be reasons to wait. The truth is, there are only two things in life, reasons and results, and reasons simply don't count.
-
Robert Anthony
How much of human life is lost in waiting.
-
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Every second I spend alone is a second unshared, unmemorialized, unspecial, unknown, undesired, unresultant, ungratifying. Every film I watch, every word I write, every book I read, every thought I have, every inch I grow in the darkness of seclusion does nothing more than separate me further from the rest of the world, from those I love, from those I want to melt with.
Or am I just arrogant to believe that the waiting world is falling behind? Are we in fact reaching the same goal along different paths... but if so, why is this path so painful? Why is my path one of unfullfilled desire? Why is anyone's? I know the difference between good and bad, so what remains the point in suffering?
I taught today that often results are the same, that it is the way we achieve those results that is important. Why then are there so many good ways to fail? How much of human life is lost in waiting? Why, in pain, is every second is an eternity? Why, in bliss, does time slip away so easily?
6:12 am
Good morning
Goodnight...
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Leaving Shanghai
Aug 7th, 2008My lover swore she would leave me if I hurt myself. I have taken to drinking these days... alot. In my most desparate moments, I choose this escape more and more often.
I tend to care less and less. I never see her, and when I do, its muted and dull. It's safe and distant and worrysome. I feel like an ex-husband in prison who she reluctantly comes to visit just for appearances, to ease her own conscience, and to ensure I don't lose all hope and do something stupid.
Part of me knows I'm wrong. She tells me I'm wrong, and she says it with words sweet and genuine and convincing. But part of me knows I'm right, too. And that part laps up the patronizing glances like dew from the spines of a mid-desert cactus, but with such a bittersweet taste and so little nourishment that all my desires are withering into nothing.
I fantasize about Leaving Shanghai in Las Vegas style, through self-neglect and too much alcohol. I've been reluctant to address medical problems. It's difficult enough as it is, always having to ask someone for help. I always need a sherpa to go to the hospital. But these days, I don't want anyone's help. I don't want it because I don't feel alive and I don't feel worthy.
If she doesnt want to help me, then why should anyone else? What is the inherent value in a person's life if the people who love them the most only patronize them? So I feel stupid to ask anyone, and I feel unable to return the kindness they give to me, too empty and too hopeless to effulge any comfort or glow that I once was able to give.
They tell me I look tired. Everyone tells me I look tired. I look different. I look something. They say it with a mournful disdain, disappointment seething out of every syllable. Never a kind word, at least not between the lines. I can see it in their eyes which are afraid to connect with the black holes in my face which once used to shine with a passionate radiance. They are thinking, "Where is this Bob who used to hold me? Where is this Bob who used to give me strength and inspiration?"
And I know its true. I am more and more pitiful. I try to be happy. I try to find reasons and rhymes and energy from the people who once gave me hope, but I'm too far gone. And they see me coming, like a vulture looking for scraps, ready to devour a soul to keep myself alive. I'm obvious and borish.
So, things go unattended. Important? Maybe... We'll see... If I end up Leaving Shanghai, I guess they were important...
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Seeding Salvation
Aug 6th, 2008Carlos Castaneda wrote a series of novels about life and magic and the unseen world and knowledge. Sadly, only one I have read. This one, 'The teachings of Don Juan, A Yaqui Way of Knowledge,' has changed my life profoundly, given me strength, opened my mind, and reaffirmed the rhyme of the world I had always felt ringing in my soul.
With enthusiasm and heart, I shared these lessons and ideas with the people I loved, with those I thought needed it, and those who were open to it. I thought myself a sort of Ancient Mariner.
I lost hope... a few days ago. I lost hope, and the one who was supposed to give it to me, the center of my attentions, the target of my affection, was the most discouraging of all...
I resolved to become everything I despised, everything that was easy, everything that was empty. I would become an unadultered liar and manipulator, a man of money and material, taking and cheating and smiling until I had everything I wanted.
I know it was a childish thought, but it was mine, and I owned it. If I had to continue living in the world of nonsense and hopelessness, and I could not commit physical suicide (and trust me the thought had occurred to me, I'll elaborate in another log), then I would kill my soul.
Upon these epiphanies, my lover tortured me, give and taking hope, yo-yoing me. She is in a difficult place. Part of me blames her for her weakness, part of me can't. Regardless, the effect was large and small, leaving me more hopeful and more hopeless.
I logged onto MSN. I often choose to live virtually when I don't want to live in reality. I saw May, my ex-girlfriend and still good friend, one of the few who I can still rely on to help me in a bind, was online.
I read her tagline, and it was this: "As Don Juan taught, the path with heart should be followed."
The line by itself seems a bit cheesy, but the philosophy and the depth of knowledge, worldly and spiritual, behind this phrase make it an obvious and powerful choice when making your way through life.
Call it Karma. Call it social progress. Call it luck or fate or whatever you like. I am not without pain. I am not without fear, but now I do have purpose and some amount of faith growing in my blue soul. Those words that I had given to May so long ago came back to me, and gave me strength.
I believe in the path with heart.
Thank you May.
Different Worlds
Aug 5th, 2008In this country of yore, the style of life mimics that which many Americans could only read in classic novels and see in sepia adaptations. Shakespeare's words here are alive and well and have yet to be impacted the way that they have been in the West becoming resultant cliche despite their truth and beauty.
I recently happened across Shakespeare's Sonnet 36, and its parallels to my own archaic and tragic world pierced me like an arrow through my chest...
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain
Without thy help by me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter not love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so; I love thee in such sort
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
In some places, for some generations, this is still the world. Particularly here and now. But this world is changing. These situation is escapable and changeable... Nothing is impossible...
This is my world, too. This is where I live. This is how I exist. I do not have it easier. I do not have the luxury of sitting aside ignoring or misunderstanding the sad and romantic nuances or coldly observing the pain as though it were a scientific experiment. I am in the thick and tangled mess of it. It is beautiful and horrible.
My only advantages are a western spirit, an ego of megalomaniac proportions, and a stubborness rivaled only by my romantic idealism. My disadvantages are discouraging, but each has a name.
I always felt I should change the world, and I have found that world which I shall change.
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Why Do People Die, Mama?
Aug 4th , 2008There was a time I asked this question. I would guess there was a time we all did. The longer I go on the more obvious it becomes. Life is tiresome.
You are born happy, you learn and grow and question and reason, observe and interact. Eventually, there is nothing left. The world is full and empty, full of hope and opportunity, like a game, a game to keep you interested, to tease you and create adversity and intrigue. But it's a game that can't be won. It's a sorrowful and tedious joke that the masses fall victim to. The rules ever-fluctuating, rules of reality and rules of the heart divering from laws created by jealous and greedy men thousands of years before we were ever brought onto the field.
"Here's a taste of bliss," says the devil.
"Go on," says God. "Try to keep it."
And then they snicker and laugh together as they watch you jump and leap and struggle through a infinite number of meaningless hoops, all the while your soul is starving, body weakening, and will failing.
I am tired of the game, and I wish it were as simple as blaming God, but in fact, it is still man I have contempt and pity for. I am discouraged. I am demoralized. I am exhausted and bored.
"Papa, why do people die?" my child will ask.
"Because they want to," I will say.
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Alienating the Masses With Emotional Honesty
July 31st, 2008People are stupid and afraid. I'm in love with someone... Someone seemingly impossible to be with, and yet I try anyway. It's a tough world. Nothing great ever came easy, so I'm working hard for what I want, for what I need, for what I found to be good and right. I dont delude myself into thinking it could be perfect, but there are moments of perfection, and these persist under far from perfect circumstances. So I push on, in hopes of improving circumstances, logically and illogically, and foremostly, honestly.
Sometimes I think people see it as a disease, honesty. They look at me dumbfounded, with a hint of disgust in their upcurled lip. Some just become sad. Tell me that they wish I hadn't told them that. Some act aloof, then try to convince me to follow another direction for my own good. I have found that only a few of those who have experienced a similar situation are supportive, and even then, I'm rarely supported.
Princess Beris Kandauroff wrote in 'The Art of Living', "Don't give advice unless specifically asked for." Bravo, you old pretentious beast. I quite agree. I cant count the number of times someone wants to guide me or adjust my path or critique my decision. Now, to be honest, I've always claimed I keep friends for just that purpose, to keep me in check. And its still true, but I'm tired of getting advice on things that people have had no experience with or know absolutely nothing about.
I'm sorry if I smashed any dreams. I'm sorry if I have a little less time. I do care. I care deeply for the people around me, and I won't abandon any of you. I know you're afraid, some for yourselves and some for me, and some of you are just disappointed. I know its hard to understand. It would be hard for me to understand if my friend told me the same thing. I know my situation is taboo. I'm a star-crossed lover. I dont know exactly what will happen, but I'm keeping the faith and walking the path, and this is important to me. I will lose friends for this, but I have already accepted that. So on this one, please, just support me, ok?
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Secret husband. What can I do for you? I really wish you could be happy.
July 22nd, 2008Why do I write...
I imagine someone will care... No, I hope someone will care.
It's a purely narcissistic and futile exercise. I had two days of happiness finally in my life, and that's all I'll ever have. What I have to look forward to is the disappointment of an unromantic world shitting on my soul until my body fails and the last bit of hope and energy is released into nothingness.
I hate her... I hate her from the depths of my black and shriveled heart. She gave me comfort. She gave me security. She gave me hope. She made me believe the world wasn't a cruel joke. For a moment I thought there was a God. I thanked him for beating me in the head with a chair, for putting me through all the pain and misery that I had previously and preciously suffered, that I might meet her, the crazy married woman with pizza and ramen noodles.
I look back now and see how stupid I was. She had been hurt, and was looking for comfort, justification, justice. I was a tool, nothing more.
I knew it then, but at some point I forgot. At some point, I looked into her eyes and felt love, felt happiness. It wasn't love for me... She was everything I always needed. She was my mother. She was my equal. She was my child.
I wanted to marry her, but it was impossible... She already had a family... So I settled for fleeting moments... I lived my life, just as she had hers, and it was interesting and full because at the end of each day, I felt safe. I felt secure in the knowledge that at the end of each day, she felt safe and felt secure in the knowledge that at the end of each day, I felt safe, I felt secure in the knowledge that...
She was first. Above everything else. She still is...
I saw an episode of "My Name Is Earl" yesterday. He was in a coma, and while in his coma, he dreamt of a perfect life, married to the woman he was in love with. I saw them together, perfect and happy in cheesy cliche, and my heart ached.
I panicked the panic that only a soul can when it feels bliss slipping away forever. I sent her a message... :'(
I'm sick, but I don't care. I am in pain, but I don't care. I am alone, but I don't care. I have admirers, but I don't care. Words are trite, and this I care about, because no matter how many words I write, no matter how many things I paint, nothing can ever express the joy of the love I felt or the dull agony left in the pit of my stomache. The words are as removed and abstracted as watching a xerox of a photograph of a rainbow on a cathode-ray black and white television with bad reception.
She gave me a child. A beautiful sweet free child. A child of art and talent, tainted by the stink of materialism, but all children are. I loved the child too. We three played together, a family, unlike any other. I felt myself like a child again, five years old, with a bag on my head, playing hide and seek in a dark and warm home, full of mystery and comfort, safe and unknown, an unfathomable paradox in the adult mind.
I dreamt of our family, literally. I dreamt I married the child, and that mother would come and visit us, and we would play together forever. There was nothing sick or strange about it. My love for both was pure...
I told my giraffe, and she told me our baby had the same dream long ago... The ping of fate struck my soul... Is this real then!? Have I finally found my place!? Have I got a reason to go on? The excitement filled me like an overripe water balloon! Ecstasy, intrigue, safety, hope, all mine!
She told me our daughter was getting married, that our family would be broken, that I must hurry... I panicked and burst, emotions gushing out explosively in all directions, uncontrollable and with no direction. My daughter didn't understand, or understood all too well.
So we waited, waited for mother to return... to return and take everything away.
I hate her... I hate her from the depths of my black and shriveled heart. She gave me comfort. She gave me security. She gave me hope. She made me believe the world wasn't a cruel joke. But she abandoned me. She took away everything I always needed. She took away my mother. She took away my equal. She took away my child.
The last remnants of hope I had in the world are dying. It is the deepest and quietest pain I have ever felt. Every word I have told you was true, mama.
I am panic. I am fear. The world is perfectly known and utterly terrifying.
"What can I do for you? I really wish you could be happy."
I wish I could be happy too, secret wife. I wish we could be happy. Give me back my family.
:'(
Land Of Shit
July 20th, 2008Some take the high and mighty road, claiming that the lack of expletives in their speech makes them better and more discerning than other people. I say it just makes them calculating and soulless.
Some claim that it is better to be rational than emotional, that to deny your feelings is the road to enlightenment. I say that is he least rational load of shit I could possibly imagine.
You are an animal. I am an animal. To deny you have emotions is illogical and absurd. To pretend you are not governed by said emotions is to turn a blind eye to your own biases and nature, leaving you more and more controllable by the associated weaknesses.
My growing disgust for this country comes from the lack of it's people's self-understanding and their complete inability to objectively view anything. Constant regurgitation of ideas and concepts spouted at them since youth is what they believe enligtenment is. Money is the only goal. Security has become the complacency found in sitting on toilet carved from the bones of their brothers, painted with the blood of their mothers, dropping excrement into the mouths of their fathers and daughters is enlightenment.
I've never seen a people so proud to be a joke
I thought Americans were loud til I came to China
I thought Americans were rude til I came to China
I thought Americans were selfish til I came to China
I thought Americans were heartless til I came to China
I'll go back in a body-bag. There's no escape from stupidity and cruelty. The whole fucking thing is ridiculous.
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I need the woman I love, not admirers
July 19th, 2008I found a lump in my mouth this morning.
It scared me. Made me feel mortal. My dog died a few years ago of something that looked very much the same. I panicked. I wanted to live. I called Maymay, she's the only one in town I trust to take care of me. Asked her if she was free to take me to the hospital today. Before she answered, I remembered she was busy, asked her to take me on Monday.
I been waiting two weeks, dreaming of the woman I loved. Writing messages, letters, poems, collecting music, fantasizing of the romantic return. Someone said she'd be back on Monday.
I got a message this evening. It was her. She said she wanted to end it. She said she didn't even want to see me again, that I should forget her. She told me I had alot of admirers. She said I won't be lonely.
I found a lump in my mouth this morning. I can't see it through the tears. I feel too immortal. I'm so tired.
Someone said the will to live is important in fighting disease... I'm so tired of fighting... What if life is the disease...
mama...
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I'm a Giraffe
July 8th, 2008
giraffes in love - 07-08-2008 - fragilebob
The following conversation was dated July 3rd, 2008 at about 8PM
| Queen of Rain | if you have died, see God, he says you able to have a chance becomes any one kind animal, you want what to become? | |
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| Fragilebob | when i was young i always sad a tiger or lion or leaopord | |
| but maybe a dog is good | ||
| i want to play and sleep and eat and be petted all day | ||
| :) | ||
| you? | ||
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| Queen of Rain | ok now, you have died, second see god, he says you able to have a chance becomes any one kind animal, you want what to become? | |
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| Fragilebob | eagle or hawk | |
| why? | ||
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| Queen of Rain | ok you have died, third see god, He said you can have unique chance to become any one kind animal, make this animal and forever, what unable to have changed again, that you think of to have become? | |
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| Fragilebob | a human | |
| or maybe a giraffe... | ||
| too hard | ||
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| Queen of Rain | hahhaah, not human, only animal | |
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| Fragilebob | hum-animal | |
| i dont know... | ||
| a vampire | ||
| are you god? | ||
| im afraid to answer this question | ||
| maybe you will change me | ||
| :$ | ||
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| Queen of Rain | vampire? | |
| i dont chang you | ||
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| Fragilebob | sucks blood and lives forever | |
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| Queen of Rain | say one kind animal | |
| thinking? | ||
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| Fragilebob | ugh... | |
| so hard | ||
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| Queen of Rain | one game | |
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| Fragilebob | okapi | |
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| Queen of Rain | what | |
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| Fragilebob | its an animal | |
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| Queen of Rain | what kind of | |
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| Fragilebob | like a giraffe | |
| but black and white | ||
| very tall | ||
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| Queen of Rain | are you sure? what unable to have changed again | |
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| Fragilebob | augh! | |
| fine | ||
| tiger or lion or something | ||
| i dont know! | ||
| is so hard! | ||
| what about you? | ||
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| Queen of Rain | you first answer me | |
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| Fragilebob | giraffe | |
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| Queen of Rain | tiger ?ok? | |
| giraffe ok? | ||
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| Fragilebob | yep | |
| done | ||
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| Queen of Rain | The first time represents you hoping that others thinks that what character you are, second time represents others's view to you, third time represents your true character. | |
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Shanghai Speak
March 27th , 2008"Gong gong gong vuh vuh vuh zuh zuh zuh."
Like the gutteral wet slobbering of a vommiting pig.
Everytime I hear shanghainese people speak to each other, I feel like I'm watching monkeys bicker in an ugly dance of self-defense. No warmth, no emotion, just assholes being defensive and offensive. Each sentence is a preemptive strike full of sarcasm and fear, malicious and hurtful, vile and bitter.
The only expression that could possibly be positive in the conversation is laughter, but its invariably twisted into something malicious, like hyenas sucking the will from their prey to make it an easier and more submissive kill.
Show a shanghainese person empathy or sympathy and their reaction is to take advantage of you. And if one genuinely cares for youthe best they can do is not hurt you. The warmer you are, the more they will pull away. To shanghainese, refraining from attack is love...
Wonderful city...
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Controlling a Nation. Good, Bad, or Necessary?
March 26th , 2008China's still a little backwater compared to the States. China may be godless, but just replace the word "religion" with "tradition", and its no different than most of the mid US. A lot of Chinese men hold an animosity towards foreign men especially. The society's still repressed, and jealousy quickly sprouts when a repressed public meet one more liberated and happy. Women here are moving forward more quickly than men because liberation in their case means escaping a male dominated society. While most are good and kind men, there are western men take advantage of this deceitfully, coupling the resultant anger in the population of lonely Chinese guys.
The cultural revolution left the boomer generation here with much less education than the preceding and following generations and the boomers outnumber the latest generation by 2 to 1 (due to the one-child policy). The cultural revolution, if you don't know or don't remember was one to re-instill purity in the Chinese nation, much as Hitler wanted to re-instill purity in Germany, except the Chinese were more successful and Mao is still seen as a hero by many. Even those who think that what he did to the country was wrong dare not say he was a bad man or even that he wasn't a hero, not for fear, but for the constant infusing of doctrine and dogma into their education and media.
Right and wrong are very fuzzy ideas here. Much like Americans, they have a sort of moral laziness, and rely on someone else to define right and wrong for them. Americans look to the bible. Chinese look to tradition. In both cases, the government is controlled by and controlling those answers that are given to the public, one openly and obviously and the other less openly, but still obviously. Luckily for both governments, people like to live with their eyes closed and sales-figures in rose-colored glasses have not dwindled in a long time.
Might makes right in China. As a large part of the population is very far from wealthy and struggles daily, being overworked and severely underpaid, they see the "clever" ('clever' is the Chenglish word for deceitful and crooked) businessman as a sort of hero, a role-model for their children. In Shanghai especially, money is king. The social requirements for a man to get married are A) he must own a car, B) he must own a home, C) he must have a "good" job, supposedly something with decent pay and a future. This norm is followed in zombie-like fashion without question or thought, and the rare sub-population who defies these ordinances are seen as dirty and westernized. The result in Shanghai is a population of young men who expect to purchase a bride, and therefore a population of young women who sell themselves as little more than lifelong prostitutes.
China's official policy on foreign people is to welcome them and support them. Bring in business. Infuse China with wealth and power. All the while, the Chinese media, which I remind you is completely government controlled, constantly portrays "foreigners" (not foreign people, political correctness is a long way from coming to China) as morally corrupt, wild, and dangerous. This is to keep them separate, instill a fear and hate of "foreigners" while supporting the using of the resources and opportunities they bring. The result: patriotism and national pride are as rampant in China as are racism and bigotry.
Why instill a population with such contradicting ideas? Simple. You cannot control a nation with tradition if the population sees outside liberal cultures and societies as more desirable than their own, and as a result of China's "clever" education process, you will be hard pressed to meet the Chinese person who will not tell you of their pride in China's 5000 years of history and culture. The fact that said history was rife with civil war, brutality, and oppression need not enter their mind. Chinese do not see themselves as individuals, but rather as parts of groups, so to question the history or culture of China is to insult their very being. I advise others to tread lightly in this subject.
Controlling a Nation. Good, Bad or Necessary? I don't know...
I'll make this a multi-parter. Too much to write in one sitting.
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Programming the Cycle Of Hope(lessness)
March 19th , 2008LINE 01: RUN She is sweet to me.
LINE 10: RUN I am sweet to her, and nurture her sweetness with
LINE 20: RUN She becomes distant or apathetic or careless.
LINE 30: RUN I continue to be sweet and ask her to stop being distant.
LINE 40: RUN She tells me where to put it or calls me a child or blames me in some fashion for her bad mood affecting her attitude toward me when in fact it is 9 times out of 10 a result of shit rolling downhill and the nice guys being at the bottom... (this means, for the english impaired, that she gets hurt by someone else, and then hurts me to make herself feel better, consciously, subconsciously, intentionally, carelessly, passively, or aggressively, it makes no difference)
LINE 50: RUN I try to be understanding and talk with her through her problems.
LINE 60: RUN She throws it in my face.
LINE 70: RUN I get pissed off (funny how getting "shit on" makes you get "pissed off") and I explode.
LINE 80: RUN She acts like a distant hurt person for a day or two and then feels sorry...
LINE 90: intBitterness = intBitterness + 1
LINE 100: intTrust = intTrust - 1
GOTO LINE 1
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Damned If I Do, Damned If Don't
March 15th , 2008I'll always love May. I still dont trust her. I will continue to look elsewhere for the support that I imagine she cannot give me. Maybe this is unfair. Maybe I should suffer and wait. I promised her I would drink too much tonight. I tried very hard to keep that promise, but I believe I may have gone a little bit over the top. I am lucid, but not fully in control.
I like myself when I am like this and I hate myself when I am like this. I am easy-going, kind, confident, and a decent human being. However, I am not the most responsible.
I danced with a stuffed rabbit tonight. I named it. I stroked it and held it gently... I am not using metaphors. This doesnt mean i met a woman and did bad things to her. I actually danced with a stuffed rabbit in public. People thought me strange. I didn't care. I teased a girl. I think I will more and more often... I dont really want to "close the deal" as it were. I love somebody. I love her deeply and my life, soul, and hope is forfeit because of it. But the teasing is fun.
I am a terrible man. I am a wonderful terrible man...
Life Path Change
March 10th , 2008I’m not spoiled or rich. I had no silver spoon. My parents moved out of state when I was 18. I worked in a burger joint for a few years and threw newspapers at night in my late teens and early twenties. I tried to stay above water and keep my ideals in focus. I attended classes in local community colleges, changing majors as often as underwear; psychology to philosophy, liberal arts, art history, political science, film… I later even spent quite a bit of energy in marketing and business classes, as it seemed a necessary evil.
Previously, I had found my hand forced in choices of life and career paths, sometimes influenced by circumstance, partly by societal pressures, but in the end, only made possible with the help of good old fashioned self-delusion and denial. In the end I realized I had spent more time trying to make money than find contentment when making choices. Though the latter focus was never completely lost in my attention, its priority became superficial and far too many justifications and compromises were allowed to be made to properly suit its needs.
I have found painfully, but hopefully not too late, that this direction was not simply unsuitable, but rather impossible for the straight-edge high school hippie who would impart on others such words of advice as, “conformity breeds mediocrity,” and, “radix malorum est cupiditas.” While preaching the evils of wealth while pushing his own controversial limits, he absorbed such materials as he could find through inspiring teachers and friends. He was enamored with penitent stories like ‘The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner’, comforted by William Blake’s simple and dichotomous beliefs and his Charlie Brown like approachability in poems such as ‘A Poison Tree’, and resolutely envious of the morbid and satirical wit of more modern authors like Douglas Adams.
When I ended my last job after almost 5 years of employment, stagnating in the dogma and politics of that soulless arena, I took advantage of the much-anticipated opportunity to re-discover myself. I left everything I knew, emptied my 401k, and headed for China, far away from pressures and expectations that had controlled the patterns that ruled my life. I studied Chinese at Jiao Tong University, taking no conventions seriously. I indulged in a deletion of self, testing all the values, stigmas, and judgments I had made in previous years. Some things truly surprised me, or rather some people, but often I would only find affirmation of my old self, my old beliefs and ideals.
Much like a faulty pendulum, I am finding center. So it is time to re-contribute. It is time to do so without letting myself fall into the pit of materialism and unjustifiable justifications that trapped me in previous times. I am looking to further my personal knowledge in all things and to disseminate truth when and if I have the opportunity. To keep myself interested, I hope to do so as creatively as possible. To keep others interested, I hope to do so as creatively as possible.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost
This is The Hole In My Heart I Got For Being Fragile In Love
March 7th , 2008
I am beyond tragically "emo" these days. Everything I do, everything I see, I just want her there to make it better. I haven't been in this much pain for years... Anything emotional, anything with a crescendo, anything moving in the least pulls tears from my eyes. I'm a child again, crying as bob sagget hugs his three kids at the end of a twenty-minute melodrama.
The passing years of perspective living on all sides of cool, loved and loving, hurt and dealing pain leave me with an all too clear image of how completely pathetic I look to the world right now... I've given up cool. I've given up appearances or pretense or self-defense...
I am pure and raw and bleeding, completely exposed and completely unconsolable and unconsoled. No one could ever give me enough right now, and those who might dare try would be sucked dry, left an empty husk, as week-old melon-rind, begging the vampire to open a vein to ther lips.
So I ask no one, I dare not. I have no veins left to open. I beg the one who took my blood to help me, to return it, foolishly... foolishly... She knows who she is. She knows what she is. Her heart runs deep. Her body is calloused.
Once I told her I had a dream. In the dream, I died. Only then, when she realized what the word was and why my life had been given, could she use everything I had given her. Only then could she understand and become what she was destined to be sloughing off the pain and protection, hiding only behind reality and the truth and her own enmity and integrity, a far more powerful and realistic force than me, and coupled with my energy, with every ounce of blood and tears I had poured into her... pure and perfect and sad and eternal...
It sounds like the worst kind of manipulation, to tell someone such a dream. But the dream was real, so clear and poignant, with hints of a sixth sense, like projected deja vu. It was more than a year ago, I think. Then, I was certain then I would die within the hour. I just wanted her to know before I had no chance to say goodbye...
I lived on, as most things do... far past their usefulness, and I forgot the dream... as I forget many things...
But here I am, sobbing over my keyboard, inundating myself with duncan shiek's "she runs away", foo fighters' "walking after you", chris isaak's "wicked games" dave mathews band's "satellite", india arie's every song she ever made, etc... pushing myself into cliched hysteria and hoplessness, striving hard to hit bottom...
And the dream floats back, the urgency of it subdued, but the power increased ten fold...
These are the pills my sister gave me for sleeping when I was in the states...
There are too few, and my pain, my desires for oblivion, revenge, and transferral of spirit into those who would be more productive with it than I don't yet outweigh what I once called my optimism and hope, but have come to realize is only my basest animal self-protection afforded me by my egotistical and delusional psyche and fear of 'final disappointment'... "Is that all there is?" - peggy lee.
I have more and more faith I will defeat the lesser reasons and find stronger pills... but not today... Maybe I will row to the middle of a calm lake in autumn, as the golden leaves of a black trunked forest reflect against the sunset-lit ripples in the peacefully undulating water. Maybe I will find Hemmingway in my golden years... maybe I will join Christ and Lennon in my double-san...
Whatever the case, when my final tears hit the water, I hope the ripples go far and wide, deeply and gently pushing the actors n what was my story into roads less travelled and paths more pure. If I never see the sunlight, I hope through me, someone will... I love you Maymay...
In your eyes, I can see that you've had enough... and it pains my head...
Even if I live to be a hundred and two, I dont think I'll ever get over you...
When you dream, what do you dream about? Are they colored or black and white, yiddish or english or languages not yet conceived?
i have to speculate that god himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay.
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This is The Gash In My Head I Got For Being Foreign In China
March 4th , 2008
I've told this story too many times. So here's the short. I went out, had some drinks and some malatang. fuzzy fuzzy fuzzy, was walking in the street with my friends, a chair hit the back of my head. I turned to just barely see some Chinese guy, and say "为什么" (chinese for "why?") He continued to beat me in the head with the chair. I took a step, stumbled and twisted my ankle, fell to the ground saying, "why, why, why..." in chinese. I was beaten unconscious.
I woke up in bed 4 or 5 hours later, hair matted and caked in dry blood. My friend was with me. I guess they carried me home. The report was that I had spoken loudly to the chinese man and he did not understand because I spoke english. I asked if I had spoken angrily. My friend said no, and that the man was drunk. I asked if they called the police. No one had.
This is not the first time... This is just the first time the guy had a chair... Racism here needs to be addressed. Teaching future generations is not enough. Social mixing is basically prohibited through means such as this... I am tired and in pain... The one person here I call family has not really been available...
I feel worse now than I have in a long long time. I am angry. I am hurt. I am sad. I feel unconsolably helpless...
I Cry At Random Moments
March 1st , 2008Every time I see something beautiful
It strikes too harshly into contrast
the rest of the world and its futility
My stomach tightens, My throat constricts
I wince and jerk my head down and away
trying to hold back the realization that reality
is
what reality is
Disappointment crushes my frail body
and I feel my soul welling up
trying to escape from my eyes
like a precognitive rodent
from a sea floor-bound vessel
I feel only flesh around me
Blood pumping, gushing clumsily
through a mass of marbled meat
I can hear the greasy creaking of sinews
pulling wet sloppy cartilage,
grinding it against rough dilapidated bone...
Everything is real and painfully physical
Other empty shells brush against me
I feel sick from the stink of their sweat
and the give of their fat.
I don't want it anymore...
I cant keep watching
If good is potential, If god is justice,
If good is beauty, If good is truth,
If god is respect, If god is ...
If men truly have the ability to think and choose
Then this world is an affront to all that is holy
Cognition without disgust is my sacrilegious...
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How is the Job? How is the Mind? How is the Soul?
February 28th, 2008I'm okay this morning. Feeling better, a little freer this morning. Having a brighter outlook. Looking forward to new experiences again, excited by the prospects of life.
I was invited to go to Hangzhou this weekend by a frend of mine and his wife, two of the only two truly sweet people I think I have met in this city for whom I can find no ulterior motive or reason for deception. I wish I could go, but I work weekends and have to give two weeks notice to take time off. I really should change my schedule, but I would find it hard to part with the lazy days in which I enjoy my own secluded melancholy.
It's 7:12 AM here. I woke up around 5, smelling like the soap from the massage place downstairs, horribly strong and dry, its fragrance tastelessly repugnant in its mechanic's motor-oil-removing soap-like smell. Coupled by the
wall unit heater burning every molecule of water into two dry hydrogens and a lonely oxygen, compounded by the dehydrating effect of the three bottles of saki I drank at dinner last night, and multiplied by the cheap massage oil clogging my pores and replacing any moisture I had left in my skin with a dry itchy greasy sunburn-like starchiness, I found my eyelids had shrunken like a newbie inmates puckered sphincter around my dry and seemingly pea-sized eyes.
Hmmm... that was descriptive. :)
Anyway, I got up, drank some water (gave some to my eyes too), peed, and couldn't sleep. So I turned on a light that was far too bright and resumed 'Spin' by Robert Charles Wilson.
It's good. Fairly sensual, interesting, not predictable, comfortably real thus far. And best of all, it made me feel good. An hour later, my mind was stimulated, my heart was a bit excited, and my soul was just a tad warmer. I put down the book and turned off the light, and noticed he sun was up.
The light coming through the window brought the descriptive summer scenes of the book with it's barbeques and multiple sunsets and true love-making under an infiniteand impossible living sky to life. I know that in all actuality, it's cold and dreary outside, and that the city out there is full of horrible and cruel people, but I feel good in the comfort of this room with the notions and ideas implanted by a man who disseminated them through dried dark wet dirt patterned onto flattened dead tree matter bound by what once might have been parts of a champion thoroughbred.
Thanks, Mr. author. Thank you dirt. Thank you tree. Thank you horse. Nothing particularly good is happening, but through random instances of variables only seen by me and god, I feel good this morning, and I'm proud to a product of even more complex events and actions who can both understand why and continue to feel it. Thanks Mr. universe. Thank you sister. Thank you father. Thank you mother.
May is Charlie
February 19th, 2008To anyone who has been paying attention to the comments, May is Charlie. She has been reading these days. I thought she might. She has moments of weakness, sometimes long moments. She has been, in her own way, kind. I can't say she hasn't changed at all. Her philopsophies have changed and radically, it's her habits that remain the same... and even those are slowly changing. Though I can't be hers in the way that I once was, a main reason being I believe my presence and support enabled her to stagnate, and though my heart aches and my ability to trust has been ripped out, I truly wish her luck and I support her in her endeavor to change should she truly try to. I ask that you do the same. I know all this sounds horribly patronizing, arrogant, and flip-floppy, but it's not. It's meant to be sincere and genuine. With the note that I am prone to hyperbole, I mean every word I write now, just as I meant every word I wrote before.
My reasons for the good will:
- Whether she properly knows how to or not, whether its a side-effect of her own selfishness or not, she has been with me a long time and shown me great acts of love
- Selfish and stupid as it sounds, she is one of the few people who has power to give my faith back to me...
- She loves my family. She felt that time spent with them was one of the best times in her life. She and they deserve to have that known between them and I absolutely believe it to be true. After all, I have a great family
- Mama told me black and white is not good, which means no one is all evil, which is absolutley true
- Lastly, I do love her, and always will. My heart will always have a piece missing as will my life without her. My bane, the beast of shanghai.
Yes, maybe her words are meant to manipulate and she doesnt even know it, but she still hurts, and water comes out of her eyes, and yet she still writes them, the kind and humble words as an anonymous party. She takes her time to make things right, but eventually, she almost more than at least half the time, does in the end make things right. And the percentage is going up all the time.
So many have called me stupid. Said not to be honest with people who hurt me, but that just seems counterproductive. If she was noone, I would agree, but she's not. For better or worse, she was mine.
I invite you to comment support or disdain. I do not know everything, and the words I'm saying now mean nothing more than meow to an animal. I remember a time when people who did things wrong were held accountable for their transgressions. This is how they grew, through shame and judgement. Nowadays, too many people just ignore problems or show a kind face, enabling idiots and assholes to be idiots and assholes for all eternity. It takes the village to raise an idiot. Constructive criticism can be harsh. Love can be tough. And without it today, you may be left with an idiot and an asshole. Don't get wishy-washy just cause she reads this. Don't hold back because you might crush my soul. For me and for Charlie, please fire away at us both.
By the way, if I disagree or don't respect you, I'll put you on my naughty list. Charlie, on the other hand, will make your life hell through very very complicated means that not even she will understand. Seriously, though, to those of you who know her, she does care how you feel. She stills cries, she still bleeds.
I hate you May
I love you Charlie
My brain hurts...
Remember Me
February 17th, 2008When May first met me, she liked me because we both subscribed to the same beliefs in freedom and living honestly. I enabled in her a kind of irresponsibility and separation from the life her parents, her friends, and her society had pushed into her head as right and necessary. She showed me that the material girl can dream of more, that people are all trapped in the same vice; a vice of expectation, each pigeonholed into some thing or another. And at the same, time, I felt deeply comfortable with her, something which I never wish to be misunderstood or underplayed for the appeal of it was and is truly awesome and indescribable, and, though I have theories and meticulous records psychological, chemical, and biological assumptions stored between synapses, the mechanics of it still remain beautiful and undiscovered.
- i am not stupid -
i miss happiness and peace
and faith in small things
and safety
and security
and everything
...
The Beast of Shanghai
February 16th, 2008My x-girlfriend is possibly one of the worst human beings I've ever met. I know now what attracted her to me. She was so like my first girlfriend; careless, successful, and irresponsible. There are at least ten other words floating in my head that don't exist to describe her, and several dozen that I can't write here and keep this blog suitable for all audiences. But I will illustrate my point through satirical allegorical metaphor.
I fell on a knife... from a second story window, broke three ribs, my leg, and fractured my skull. She was busy and had to go somewhere, so she walked by and said, "I love you. I have to meet some people for dinner. I dont really like them, so it'll be short. I'll be back soon," and tossed me a band-aid as she headed out to the clubs for dancing with everyone else, and I do mean everyone.
After the next two hours of agonizing pain and internal bleeding leading to my painful death, I was... well... dead. She called me and said, "ok, I'm on my way out. Just wanted you to know."
As my dead body spit blood, I was able to breathe out the words, "What?! I've been waiting for two hours? You're just going out now?! eeeeeeuuhhh...." Eeeeeeuuhhh.... was the sound of my soul falling out of my mouth and rolling into the gutter due to the sudden disappearance of all faith in people and its being replaced by my utter disappointment of the world. I make this sound nightly... I should record it sometime...
She became angry, and said, "God, If you're just gonna act like that, I guess I shouldn't have called at all. Whatever. Anyway, I'm busy so I have to go. I left you a band-aid so you are ok now. Right? Byebye." (The "Right?" even almost sounded like a question as it blended into the "Byebye.")
Two and a half hours later, when I could barely see the asphault on which my face was planted because my eyes were drying out and rotting in my skull, she called again. I didnt pick up because I was dead and soulless. So she sent a message, "I'm leaving now, have a good night."
I didn't respond. Y'know, the whole no soul thing. She called several more times a few hours later, finally sent another message, "Where are you? I'm sorry you felt bad, are you dead or did you go out? I can't sleep now. Don't make me worry!"
If I thought for half a second she gave a rat's ass about me, I might have regained a bit of soul, but she oozes with false concern only when she doesn't want to feel guilty or be held responsible later. It's part of her do-as-little-for-people-as-possible-without-seeing-myself-as-a-monster philosophy. My soul couldn't justify filling her quota for the night. She'll find another way to fill it anyway.
I sent her a message, "My leg's broken, my ribs are cracked, and my brain is getting too much oxygen. Sorry I didn't pick up. I was resting. It would have been nice if you had helped me. But I know you don't care enough to, so just forget it. I'm dead, what's done is done, leave me alone. I'll do something else with my dead soulless body."
"Don't say I didn't care! I called you! I'm great and super! And I gave you a band-aid! Ok, have fun. Goodnight :)" she replied
It went on and on. This is no exaggeration. This is a girl who would look at you in disgust for being sick with a 104 degree fever for a week, who would answer the phone from another man's bed, "What?!" angry at you for bothering her, who would call you "a child" for wanting to spend time with her the last night before she went under the knife for surgery. And this is how she treats those she loves.
Why did I love her. I know now. I never gave up on my first girlfriend. I needed to know that these people who seemed careless and terrible were in fact salvagable, that they had souls too and that the world wasn't a bad place. I know better now. I know now that there is black and white, and that some people have no other purpose but to take and take and let others suffer. It isn't a place that is bad, it's the people.
Some of you might say this is harsh, but its true. What's really sad is my x knows this website, but never gave a shit about it in the two years we were together. She could have known me deeply, but never really cared. She'd rather shop online for handbags and boots. If she ever reads this, it'll be at least a month from now, maybe six. She'll continue to tell herself she cares and she's great and she loves me. I doubt she ever will... read this, I mean. I have no idea if she is capable of love.
Ode to Shanghai
February 6th, 2008In this dark and this empty
land that I dwell
where heaven is earth
and heaven is hell
deceit is the game
self is the world
the gift of a turtle
love has unfurled
flesh for a time
blood for a pearl
chickens for boys
ducks for the girls
Shanghaied in Shanghai
eat crow and stew pigeon
buddhists turn christian
peace clouding their vision
the sky is not grey
the grass is not brown
upside and down
spin it around
mei ge ren pian ren
mei ge xin tai hei
nothing nice to hear
nothing nice to say
gouge out your eyes
and play in the sun
sometimes the blind
can forget there is none
the sign of the beast
best worn for luck
the masses are dying
while none give a fuck
Shanghaied in Shanghai
cant call it hell
the devil won't come
there're no souls to sell
- Fragilebob
feb 6, 2008 22:43
Utterly Alone
February 6th, 2008It's New Year's Eve here in Shanghai. It's about 9pm. I'm naked in bed, a little cold, watching old Stargate: SG-1 episodes on pirated DVD. There are fireworks of every color and variety exploding outside my seventh floor apartment window. And I am utterly alone.
I woke up about an hour ago, saw several messages and a few missed calls on my cell phone. Friends, lovers, admirers... Mostly people I truly treasure, people who have been good to me in hard times, but few who I think understand me, and no one I truly feel I trust... It's not necessarily their failing, more likely mine. I am too, well, for lack of a better word, "fragile" to keep the ever-sunny disposition that some people manage to use to hide distrust and shield themselves from intelligence.
The only call I answered was that of my ex. It's been kind of a crummy day. Silly people being silly, adults acting like children, alienating people.. alienating me. Some surprises from some, but the same old from others. "A group is controlled by its least healthy member." I find it more and more true the longer I persist in meeting new people.
I haven't written about my ex here at all yet. Sadly, I haven't written here much at all over the last few years mainly due to her... She's put me through a lot of pain. I've put her through some hard times too. We lived together for the better part of a year, have found some insurmountable differences, and have decided to part.
Its very difficult for me to write about these kinds of things because they are so close to my heart, so the juicy and the jesting is absent from this entry. But she did some good things today to try to fix a bad situation. It's too little and too late to save her and my romantic future together, but I wanted to give her kudos for her efforts and give her recognition for her change, especially in light of some of her influences. Monkey see, monkey do. Carrot, stick, and all that...
Her mother deserves some recognition as well. 妈妈, you are a conundrum, a dilemma, and a paradox. Inconsistency tires me, but surprises tantalize me. I despise a person who takes advantage of those weaknesses.
Digression: It's more lonely than I thought, and not made better by the fact that in some ways it is my choice. I don't want to be alone... I want inspiration, support, and integrity... I will not settle... I am doomed to remain in the title of this entry...
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Self-disentanglement
February 3rd, 2008Relationships are so bloody complicated. Social paralyzation appears to be the inevitable outcome of life, sooner or later. Whether it be the failure to move out of a bad relationship or the inability to try moving into another good one, the results are the same.
Actually, I'm playing this up a bit. I am ever the optimist, expecting that something good will happen tomorrow, or maybe the day after... actually, I'm sure something terrible will happen tomorrow and the day after, but things will clear up someday...
The problem with this is that the after-someday time is growing shorter and shorter. I'm by no means old, but I'm not so young anymore either. When my father was my age, he had been married ten years, had an eight-year-old son and a 3 year-old daughter.
Probably foolishly, I think I am ready for the kids, but finding a suitable pot of soil to plant them in, as it were, is not so easy. So here I sit, petrified, just coming out of yet another dissapointing episode in the life of Bob. I am not ready to move forward, but extremely fearful that I might slip back.
Uninteresting. It's the only word I think suits me. When anyone becomes a pattern, what is the point? I know I'm not so simple, but I am also painfully aware of how poeple appear to each other, and sadly, I am a person.
So the goal for now is simplicity. I don't know if this includes bliss, ignorance, or stupidity. I drank socially for the first time in quite awhile last night and found it easy to let the mind wander to simple things without guilt or fear. I'm not sure I like the feeling actually. It feels... irresponsible. It feels counterproductive... I am not an irresponsible man. I will not be a counterproductive bob.
Self-disappointment
January 31st, 2008I just read over a few of my old entries. It's hard to believe I havent updated this in over a year. I find myself disappointed... My thoughts over the last year have been less than divine or philisophical, perhaps not completely without hope, but I do find my current station stagnant and uninspired when compared with what I once was.
These last few months, I have been looking to re-invent. I want to announce that my brooding, angry, hopeful, romantic, irritating self is back. I will be trying to drastically improve upon both what I was and what I have become. My newfound patience for stupidity is a thing I am not sure if I will keep. It seems sometimes that it serves both the world and myself well, but I don't know if it is truly an ally or foe.
I think I need to meditate on the glass... the glass of doom...