i have tried my best.

its funny, people never give you credit when you do all you can, if there is no aitiai to show for.

but everyone jumps on you if you fuck up.

i thank everyone who was there tonight, other than the lack of gratitude shown, it was a fantastic night.

i love y'all.

to my group -y'all know who you are- you guys are my life.

without you, there is no me.

remember that

I have never been used to having my head put on the proverbial chopping-block, and its an interesting, if uncomfortable, place to be.

Responsibility seems to fall on me, even though I stayed to the bitter end both times. And at least for one of the times, it wasn’t me who started it. that is not to say i wasnt a contributory factor. that i sure was, but it seems to me that people treat me as the exclusive cause.

The weird thing is, for both times, those who abandoned ship halfway, or those who started it have gotten away scot-free.

I have an idea who/what is causing all this and making all these changes in this group, but I guess its kinda interesting, noticing the shifts in human behavior

I shall continue to observe

im so happy tonight.

one said she said she'd never seen me face so bright for so long

i feel that too

Object Prime in a room full of chaff and castaway hand me downs. her presence was narcotic; you got high off her, but there was never enough to go around and she' move on and leave you jostling for just a bit more. it's difficult to explain. once i came close to her; close to that gaze, and she'd given me a conspirational look; eyes and teeth flashing wit the shared knowledge that in the little collection of people she might as well have been British Royalty.

i imagine Cairo in soft focus.

Hazy.

i see men clothes in swarthy clothes, chewing tobacco and speaking colloquy. and i see him. im not sure about his position in my life now. telling me one thing and telling someone another. everything seemed orange. but somehow he was more light brown than orange. he gave me an awkward eye, something so abstruse that i didnt know what it meant.

but his loyalty is still there. i can sense it. but only time will tell if my intuition is accurate. i hope it is, since my own sense of loyalty is not displaced. at least i dont think so.

life's vicissitudes have again brought me to the brink of giving up.

i dont know who i am any longer. i dont know who are my friends, i dont know who is with me. i may not even know who is against me. i dont even know which is the worse of the two.

ive always maintained that extreme despondence or joy is still better than cleaving to the quotidian, the great middle range of experience between exaltation and terror. but the quotidian sounds like a very good alternative to me right now.

i am not a nice person. but neither am i about to start some quixotic self castigation in the hope that i would change for the better. by His grace i possess the redemptive awareness of my own faults - not all can cope with an image of his own condition.

the recent happenings have smashed the wall of reserve and apprehension which my past experiences had served to erect.

conflict brings unhappiness, unhappiness poisons existence.

conflict with your loved ones emasculates the need for existence.

loss of sleep, appetite, and tears. fuck. life does suck. i didnt think i would cry for a long time.

but no, of course im not gonna kill myself. i wouldve thought that i have gotten past that stage. when she dumped me.

i feel so helpless. i hate it when im helpless. be it sacrifice or acquiescence, so long as i can give up something, i can deal with it. but to not be able to positively do anything is a feeling i have not felt for sometime.

again it leads back to whence she dumped me.

the feeling is strangely reminiscent. the situation is different, but it sparks the same reaction and sentiment. its kinda odd. by sheer Wittgenstein logic, that would suggest that the situation must necessarily be similar enough, ceteris paribus.

mutatis mutandis, one of the people in my life now must mean as much to me as she did then.

i need some space. and i thank her for granting me that. but im not sure if it is enough. its stuffy, almost im almost claustrophobic. but i wouldnt give her up for the world.

its a vicious cycle. i cant eat, i cant sleep. i cry. then i drink. even when there is still that sickly feel at the back of my throat and in my stomach from last night. alcohol and nicotine. two characters that i know will be there whenever i need them.

its comforting

when my mind drifts to consider what has transpired, it still makes me feel sick to the bone

kinda reminds me of whence she first started two-timing me.

betrayed.

but it has been resolved, and i am just living in the past.

i should look ahead, but my head wouldnt allow me to.

yet

i will not deal with those whom i think will hurt me

i will not deal

my results were far better than expected. indeed, as loo said, it was a stellar performance

for which i am very glad

praise the Lord.

but that's just about the only thing in my life that is going smoothly now.

teaser

i dont know when or if that book im writing for my loved ones will be finished, but i couldnt resist giving y'all a short glimpse =)

-----------------------

Antonin speaks:

she was perfect. under the dancing moonlight i saw her unbuckling her bra, showing her full breasts. the breasts were farther from each other than most ive seen, remotely divergent and added to her appeal in a mysterious and evocative way. When her bra which negotiated the distance between her breasts to press together a deep cleavage was undone, it was as if every pore in her body took a breath of fresh air.

there were two love bites, one still fresh and dark pinkish but still not red. Like an unripe strawberry prematurely plucked from its creeper; the other bluish-green, like a duo-coloured and yet iridescent oil slick. when placed in juxtaposition, they seemed like the incipient sunset put against a larger background of light-ish darkness, and shadows would be cast over all who watched. shadows of doubt. but she was never mine, and i was never in a position to question. and i didnt want to. questioning would lead inextricably to complications.

i leaned back to have a full view of her body, to stand and watch and breathe and air is air is air, her smell is air, and here is more air, her carbon dioxide sighs and little mewling sounds: air, the shadow cast in air on twine, on limbs like twine. and want like little air. To breathe and be inside her is air.

So here are wrists and ankles air folded bones and flesh and love and life in complex structure; here is a grammar of sinew and cartilage and other musculature come together here. Are limbs been held together, skin and muscle tight like brothers, breath sisters under shadows cast in votives. Full of salt like, pillars salt left behind like nothing.

Ejaculate in shadow puppets, semen black and photonegative. On the sheets of skin and bone beneath and breathing air for air for air for nothing empty lungs and shadows set like bones. Fading as like skin it fades and stretches down, here are shadows full of stretch marks marked and shadow blacked out and ugly in the shadow of the morning light it's light out light it's light.

That night, like Lorca, I ran on the best of roads mounted on a nacre mare without bridle stirrups. As a man, I won't repeat the things she said to me. The light of understanding has made me more discreet. Smeared with sand and kisses.

And in the morning I am hemoglobin transubstantiated cigarette smoke, le sang real sangria sucking spit like gasoline. She's still sleeping beside me. And i'm full up of the smell of the parts of her that have pressed against my skin since midnight, sticky with sweat like vinyl bench seats in August. Soon I will have to peel her off and leave her to sleep without me.

Vast expanses spread out from the window like television commercials for hand cream and Visine. This hotel seems less surreal this morning, but still feels vaguely like a set out of a spaghetti western with the wood boards and creaking wrought iron bed frames.

Her hair snakes across my chest and bears a remarkable resemblance to a map of the interstate highway system.

I think he has noticed the map cut across my chest by the black ropes of the girl's hair. He keeps glancing over at it from behind his sunglasses.

it was an almost out-of-body experience today

amidst the Wednesday zouk milieu, lessons were learnt and pain was felt last night

today i walked around in a somnambulistic trance, trying to tie up loose ends and clear my head.

people have debated the opposite of "love" for a long time, be it "hate" or "apathy"

ive confirmed recently that i am unable to feel apathetic toward a person.

it is either hate or love - the law of the excluded middle? (no)

and recently that vengeful feeling has been creeping around my heart like a vine, strangling those whom i thought i had loved

and they do not know it

yet