Staring into the eyes of doom...









I spent a few minutes today staring down, or rather attempting to stare down, a beautiful barn owl who had the blackest, most disturbing eyes. (The only more disquieting eyes I've seen are those of the gorilla. Simply too human to be caged.) As I became engrossed in his steady, unflinching gaze, I couldn't help but think. Think about death...the grand finale that flashes "game over" on everyone's entire life sooner or later, and the lostness of soul and hope that sometimes finds us even while we're still breathing. Imagining how I would tremble if he were 6 feet tall instead of 16 inches. Wondering if I could have ever gotten close enough to see those frightening eyes had there been no cage to contain him. Thinking of how I'd occasionally like to have eyes like that...cavernous eyes that could penetrate those who hurt me with the perfect ratio of condescension and utter nothingness. It was a small thing. Just a moment, to be sure, in the middle of a beautiful spring day.

But the eyes.
Oh, those unsettling eyes spoke to me from another world.
A place where the sun can't reach and my lips are bitten instead of smiling. Eyes that will follow me into my dreams...

Apotemnophilia: the sexual desire to have limbs removed

Teratophilia: the sexual attraction to deformed or monstrous people.

Acrotomophilia: sexual attraction to amputees.

urophagia: the consumption of urine.

Emetophilia: This fetish involves vomiting or watching others vomit. Also known as a Roman Shower when the participants actively vomit on each other.

Coprophilia: sexual pleasure derived from feces. The fetish can involve defecating on a partner, frequently in the mouth of the other person. Coprophilia can also include coprophagia, which is the consumption of fecal matter. This can lead to serious health risks.

Crush Fetish: A crush fetish is a desire to see small insects or animals crushed to death.

Klismaphilia: is the fetish in which pleasure is derived from enemas.

Necrophilia: a sexual attraction to human corpses. This fetish can lead to grave-robbing and sexual activity with the dead body.

Omorashi: arousal from the feeling of having a full bladder. Climax usually coincides with the moment of relief and embarrassment experienced when the desperate individual loses bladder control.

Infanitilism: sexual pleasure from dressing, acting, or being treated as a baby

Agalmatophilia: sexual attraction to statues or mannequins

Blood Fetish: when a person derives satisfaction from watching someone bleed, or simply seeing blood on partly or entirely naked skin. Blood fetishism is often accompanied by some licking or drinking blood through bloodletting. This is sometimes done by biting (referred to as “love-bites”) however this is not the norm due to the potential for damage from bruising or infection. Most often a razor blade is used.

The air has never been so still.

Tonight I sat outside...intending on doing some thinking while looking at the trees in the rapidly dimming light. As I cleared my mind, I realized how perfectly -nothing- the atmosphere seemed. Some might call the stillness something like peace, or serenity, but I found it more like death. Uncomfortable. Stagnant. I was driven quite quickly back inside with a heavy feeling suddenly gripping my heart.

I am addicted to movement.

Bobbing my head to music, turning on lights in the blackness and wearing the darkest of shades in the sun, I am rarely satisfied with what is and eternally chasing something that very likely isn't simply elusive, but may well be nonexistant. When my nerves are sanded down smooth, I am bored. When they are on edge, I am jumpy and miserable. Where is contentment? Is there even such a thing, aside from the rare snatches that temporarily make life worth living that come upon me now and then....usually after sex, dancing, or particularly interesting time spent with someone I haven't yet grown bored with?

I often get the urge to take a tire iron to a mailbox or a window while screaming like a banshee. The intensity I carry inside of me is malignant, I fear, taking my mind and heart to darker and darker places as the years pass. No longer can I successfully pass for sane. No longer can I carry on polite conversation without wanting to beat the hell out of the boring fuck in front of me. I want to run. To fly. I want to escape this treadmill called life. Not via body bag, mind you, even though I am aware that is my destiny (as it is for us all), but to step off the hamster-wheel and run full-tilt through a more interesting landscape than I have been looking at for so long now. Run till my lungs burst. Till I lay down throbbing with exhaustion and watch the sky move, thinking "how beautiful!"

As someone addicted to movement, I am somewhat dazed from emerging from my cell. A comfortable cell with many amneties, but a cell nonetheless. I don't quite know what to do with my mind, my heart, or my self these days. I am clinging to the small word "hope" with clenched fists and teeth grinding. I am frightened and unsure. No wiser today than I was at 17, for wisdom can find nowhere to take root inside me...my heart contains no substance, just a black hole of swiftly shifting wind. What I crave with a constant ferver that pales heroin addiction often dooms me. Movement.

Right now, I have to beleive there is something out there waiting for me. Something that will cause the tornado in my head to move with a better rhythm, to daze and mesmerize like the purest lsd, and spin prisms of light containing every gorgeous color in the world. I call that something true happiness, and what fashion or form it may take when I find it I can't pretend to know. The day I stop believing that I will find it, I will suddenly be old. I will wither. I will die of a broken spirit.

But not today.
I am not dead yet.
I still choose to believe....

Hee hee...I'm back.
Feeling lots of things today.

My thoughts, moods, and feelings are coming and going quite randomly. This is normal for me. Today I've been alternating between feeling hopeful, peaceful, worried, horny, nervous, sad, bored, and excited.

For some reason, everything that goes through my head has a feeling to go along with it. Rarely can I simply think about something and have the thought arrive in my head alone. My thoughts always come dragging an emotional state behind them. I don't like this much of the time, but cannot seem to help it. Telling myself not to think negative things is like telling a toddler to color between the lines. Pointless.

The way my brain works is undoubtedly the reason why I devote my life so wholeheartedly to the pursuit of fun. When I am engaged in some joyful activity, the worry, sadness, regret, and fear cannot put their bony grasp around my mind. However, I know those awful thoughts/feelings are always there - waiting in the wings to grab ahold of me the second they get the chance.

And so I live my life running...

I am fuzzy and dazed.
Dreamlike.
Devoid of all feeling.
Blank.

Feels as if I've misplaced the thing inside that makes my eyes sparkle.
My smile is but a ghost.
Is there anything for me to drink, smoke, or swallow that will return me to the land of the living?

For now, I have punched the clock and gone home to that place in my head where no one else can reach. It is a gray place. Dim. As if the pause button has been hit on my very soul...

I hope I'll be back soon.

Current Playlist:

City in the South - Tara Jane O'Neil
Gentleman Caller - Cursive
Message from Our Sponsor - Legendary Pink Dots
A Ribbon - Devendra Banhart
Spy in the Cab - Bauhaus
Abattoir Blues - Nick Cave
Aeroplane Blues - Black Keys
Ain't Gonna Rain Anymore - Nick Cave
Alice Practice - Crystal Castles
American Woman - Butthole Surfers

These have been strange days...
I continue to bounce between a contemplative space of thinkage and trying madly to fill up the hours so I don't have to contemplate or think. All in all, I think I'm okay. I feel everything with great intensity, but I'm quick to heal. Freedom is often lonely. The price of love is pain. Without hope there is no future. Stay away from the moldy mushrooms. Remember when you eat chicken that it used to be a chicken. What goes up must come down.

I can't talk anymore.

Everything that's in my life and in my head right now can't be written about, despite the fact that only a very few people even know this blog exists.
So much is going on. Some of it I understand, some of it I don't. Some of it makes me happy, some of it makes me want to break down and never stop crying.

Fortunately, my mind is in a surprisingly peaceful, contemplative spot.
I think - given some time - I will figure things out. How long does it take to understand the workings of your own heart once you've spent so many years trying to control it's very beating?

Call me or come by for a beer if anyone wants details.
You won't get them here. This blog will have to be vague and trivial for awhile while I wrestle some very big shit. Bear with me, please...