.70

I have started to think that maybe we are never meant to get what we want. Those that mean the most are never meant to be close, because then what will we strive for? Everyone that has and does still mean the most to me has left, no never permanently and not in a woe is me way, just in an out of my reach way. Distance really is a killer when your heart and soul is torn over the country soon to be the world. I never thought it affected me and i never thought much of it, but the thought of never seeing them again or everything changing weighs heavy on my chest. I want the ones i love (too heavy??) care deeply for to be all that they can be and i want them to carry me with them in their hearts and minds so i am there with them when it is heavy. They will never truly leave, but distance right now is testing me. Just when one returns two leave. One says will you wait for me, i wish i weren’t leaving. The other was always destined to be this way and is linked in a looking for the magic way that lets me know it is fine. I’ll be here where i always am, and when you look to the stars and the moon, distance is nothing but a word. The ocean is truly made of tears from everyone who has lost some one to distance and life.

milk and apples

.69

obsession plagues my mind

milk and apples

68.

Shall I believe that unsubstantial Death is amorous? And keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour?. .Here O here will I set up my everlasting rest and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars  from this world-wearied flesh. Eyes look your last. Arms take your last embrace, and lips,o you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss.A dateless bargain to engrossing death

 

milk and apples

67.

currently reading: and the ass saw the angel – Nick Cave
                                      deathbeds – wes eisold (3rd time in 2 days)
                                      psychology 2 – various people, textbook
                                      looking for the magic – max g. morton
listening: intimacy – bloc party
                    a night in the city – bloc party
                    heavier than heaven lonlier than god – blacklisted
                    alas i cannot swim – laura marling
                    a woman a man walked by – pj harvey & john parish
                    the things we carry – have heart
                    too many more to list…..
needing: escape

milk and apples

66.

How ironic i post this here…. quite enjoyable though.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly distraught, I fantasize about quitting my job and organizing a group of individuals who will assist me in destroying all social-networking entities. And I’m not talking about 4chan-like pranks or some other nerd hacking shit. I want to physically and simultaneously storm the offices and data centers of Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, and whatever other online garbage people like to waste their lives on and bolt the doors shut before igniting chemical fires around their buildings’ perimeters. It will be tough, but through rigorous coordination and preparation my comrades will be certain to torch every last backup and redundancy so all user data will be lost forever. I admit that I am really into schadenfreude, especially when it involves stupid people, but that’s not the only reason for my destructive daydreaming. I posit that networking sites only exist for two purposes: blatant self-promotion (which makes sense for those who are already famous and is completely understandable, no matter how nauseating it may be) and ego-stroking. When I overhear people’s conversations about their recent Facebook et. al, activities it makes me want to punch myself in the neck because there’s nothing I can do or say about it that will make sense to them (except destroying the source of the problem). Ever since Friendster in the early 00s I’ve watched many friends succumb to the evil world of thinking the outside world cares about them. If you frequent any of these types of sites, ask yourself how many hours a day you waste on them and then think about all the productive stuff you could be doing during that time. A common excuse given for spending hours a day on these things is that they make it easy to keep up with and contact a person’s so-called friends (most people only have a maximum three to four real, enjoyable friends at any given time and the rest are bags of flesh to call out of boredom) in one convenient array and makes planning Friday “gal pal” nights easier, but that’s just flawed logic. The modern cell phone is a much more convenient and quicker short-term planning tool and it doesn’t provide the type of protection against real rejection that social-networking offers. It’s much easier to not respond to someone’s message than to tell someone “I don’t really like you,” in your own voice. And that right there is the main problem: Social networking is turning people into gutless liars who are afraid of having their feewings huwt . Grow up you fucking babies. You need to learn how to deal with people who don’t like you in person because there are a lot of them. Those who use these sites do so because they want to pretend that what they say and who they are matters. This desire to be more than just another piece of walking meat with a name isn’t a new one, however, pretending to be able to do something about it is. No one really cares about your new sunglasses or why your house smells like fish or what flavor Pop-Tart you ate for breakfast, even if they engage you about such things. They only pretend to care because it’s a distraction from their job or professor or depression. In the olden times you just accepted the fact that no one cared and got back to plowing the cornfield and scooping up cow dung. Social networking has offered people the promise that anyone can be a celebrity, but because most people are either ugly, boring, and borderline retarded (usually all three), this is simply an impossibility. Anyway, back to my fantasy: I can just picture everyone on the East Coast waking up before work (the plan would be to attack the offices of these sites in the wee hours of the morning). They’ll make some coffee, turn on the TV, and sit down at the computer for their morning personal-message fix. “Oh no!” they’ll scream. “Why doesn’t my account exist anymore?” BECAUSE IT’S GONE. FOREVER! Meanwhile, I’ll be skipping throughout the streets all day long, pointing to people who are obviously frowning because their digital selves were murdered and laughing in their faces while saying stuff like, “Hey, loser, are you really depressed because you can’t talk to your fake friends on the internet anymore? READ A BOOK, ASSHOLE!” I’d find one of those 17-year-old girls who posts photos of herself with that eating-vagina finger pose, cackle like a witch, and shout: “HOW DOES IT FEEL TO HAVE TO THINK ABOUT HOW FUCKING RETARDED YOU ARE ALL DAY INSTEAD OF TRYING TO FIGHT THE INEVITABLE ON THE INTERNET? I HOPE YOU GET HERPES AND GONORRHEA AND ANAL WARTS ALL AT THE SAME TIME AND DIE!” Doesn’t that sound lovely? EGGERT MALSTEIN

Milk and Apples

.65

The closest i have come to real words, recycled from the moment to now, but once again true.

ah i have been there all too often, all you can do is ride and observe, something, someone or a moment in time gives way to another level of destination. Right now i feel i could burst into a thousand stars and be home. I don’t know how this has come about. I’m in love with a million images and none of them are reality.

Would that you could touch this angel in a clutch of snakes.
Oh pretty, pretty, I’m aflame.
So excited, so unslept.
Somewhat littered, so unswept.
You have to sleep before you wake.
I am spilled and poured.
I am peeled and cored.
I am hanging from the floor.
Flicker like a freak through a sleepless week
In a black cell of forever.
There’s a point to this.
A point I think I often miss.
Oh clever, clever, where’s your heart?
You can turn a phrase until it reads a million ways.
It makes no sense but it’s as good as it is sad.
I am sad, elated.
I am segregated.
There’s this stitching and it’s itching.
All my friends are dead.
Asleep in distant beds.
At least these enemies stay close.
Take me to the pretty ones.
I want to be a pretty one.
Sign me to a nice girl so she can ruin me eternally.
They offered me a million bucks.
All I want’s a steady fuck.
Oh steady, steady, where are you?
Channer surf a sea of static,
See the prize but you can’t have it.
There’s something thankless in a wish fulfilled.
I am thrilled and bored.
I am unskilled, adored.
All of both and none of one.
I would kill for more.
I haven’t killed before.
I could set this heart on stun.
Take me to the pretty ones.
I want to be original.
Sign me to a nice girl so I can sing her something meaningful.
In my perfect world I’d be signed to a nice girl.
It would cost one million kisses.

violence violence, you come through as i am closing in on death, a punch to my heart that brings me back from the brink, air pushed from lungs, eyes seeing for the first time again. A moment of clarity. Existence.

milk & apples

.64

 

a collection of images that to me represented how i felt till i realised i am better off.

now that i have purged these images that aren’t mine that you have seen a thousand times over, and which aren’t the ones i was first looking for, my lungs are empty, my stomach is empty, my mind is empty and i can go fill it with better things then 3 wasted years.

Thats the biggest insight you will ever get, it isn’t even close to an insight.

milkandapples

.63

We always think everyone is against us, everyone is out to get us, when really we’re against us and we are out for self destruction in it’s ugliest form.

milk + apples

.62

More images than words, more lust then love, more me than you, more or less, less or more, more trying to forget then forgive, more butterflies.

Milk and apples

.61

“i’m so crowded alone”

milk and apples