Posted by: Nehalem | March 10, 2009

quiet acceptance

After years of isolation, I’ve stumbled through the Dead Sea of personal relationships which I’ve come to accept.  This swill originated from within, but I still can’t trace what caused me to do what I did so long ago.  Almost every day appears to reveal the same dire loneliness.  Moments of health leave me yearning for more, the temporary oasis for my soul.  The eternal mirage of to-be-accepted disappointment returns me to my sobering reality.  Recently I’ve been most thrown off by the lack of interest I’m able to generate about my life.

Everyone has contemplated the death of David Foster Wallace.  The literati all have their angles and stances about Wittgenstein, yada yada, as my best friend Andre says.  The bare truth was that D.F. Wallace was heartbroken, wrenched and gutted by the heartless women he dated in a recursive fashion.  The Golden Eternal Braid of Dumpster Divers, Hipsters, and Lunatic Women.

I know now living in this town why heroin proliferated and Elliot Smith killed himself.  The ladies invite new men over and everyone’s the weaker.  I’m weaker for wanting her;  she’s weaker for not allowing me to consumate.  This cycles and blossoms in many ways, for now it is almost morning, and I’m yet weaker for having not slept.  The meditation will erase it all.

5 o’clock in the morning and I still can’t let that day go.  I still reach for March 7, 2006, as a point to restart – a point to reboot.  Time travel, once again, via the veritable Dr. Brown.  I made a choice:  To go with my heart and not the pecuniary search for knowledge.  Now I’m letting it all bare;  a thanks goes to Jenny for her blog about embarassing one’s self.  I would never be able to write this level of rawness from within myself if it weren’t for her.

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