Currently watching Blue Valentine. It sucks any decent life left in tranquility . Anti marriage movies were all the youthful rage 2010 required. But the rage ten years later ten years wiser all the more destructive and aimless is apropos. July 4th is almost near . Queer how last year joy and fireworks converged at the corner of 164th and Jerome. Mullaly Park made happiness possible if only for an hour. Car parked at an illegal corner, no matter, no problems. Only love could entertain such color. Wild and possible. Loud and dangerous. Absorbing the tentacles of the light show. Who knows where all the fire goes after the slumber? Did Cupid take back the arrow? Is the light show to return? Or is this to remain somber a constant reminder of that which was lost? The day is a wonderful bother mired in sun frozen in white clouds shifting into hats, cities, and cats. Every shift is a fist on a mirror. Don’t look back! Every shatter makes it clearer!
I can hear it. Calling. The song in the movie where Ryan Gosling starts strumming the ukelele singing the mills brothers as Michelle Williams starts tap dancing, “you always hurt the ones you love, the ones you shouldn’t hurt at all, you always take the sweetest rose And crush it till the petals fall You always break the kindest heart With a hasty word you can’t recall, so If I broke your heart last night It’s because I love you most of all”. I am such a successful sucker for regret. Pour me a cup of tea and let the bitterness flow and float like a baby. I just saw a kid not much older than 17 on a bike pedaling on with no hands on the wheel not caring at all. All too preoccupied with the phone call he’s on. As he’s going through my block running red lights I watch him. I heard him say “you know I always…” and his words drifted away with the heat on the concrete and the speed of his emotions. As he left the frame. I know what he wanted to say. The cracks in his voice gave a great speech about loneliness and loss aversion. It’s my favorite kind of speech. I hope you will be okay random kid.
My life dangles on a string and I at anytime am bound to fall apart. Me and my immediate family feel so much but never address anything. We are as quiet as the silence before the thunder storm. It’s clear I don’t want to address anything right now but I hope you can see my vagueness is wrapped in sadness. I just saw my mother cry. She’s most happy most of the time but she says she feels something is wrong. I am so much like her. Living life so intuitively and instinctively and spiritually. When we feel something is wrong it’s hard to break us out of it but in a strange way she’s usually correct. I always forget that life doesn’t revolve around me and that we’re all going through something. I pray that we can make it work. I pray for her not for me. I don’t believe in Jesus like most people. God works in mysterious ways and I literally have his name but I’m a none believer. My mother’s faith makes me believe sometimes but her sadness doesn’t. The devastation in her eyes made me hug her for the first time in a long time. I feel like a bad son most of the time. It’s that immigrant guilt that shames me and motivates me. I walked today for an hour my Smartwatch said I reached my goal for the day. I definitely don’t think I’m through. This Lipton tea fucking sucks. My feet hurt and my hamstrings hurt even more . I can’t stop. One must walk before they run. I’m honestly trying to escape all my problems through forward motion. I can’t stop. My stomach won’t tolerate it. My eyes couldn’t take it. My soul wouldn’t bear it.
The one thing I will ask of you is the hardest thing to do. Love Yourself. There are way too many times we give ourselves to negative thoughts. The brain gets bored. It feels the need to fuck with you. You ever been walking down the street and out of nowhere your mind starts to recall that time you got embarrassed on stage in junior high? or that other time you throw up or shitted on yourself? That happens to me all the time. Every weird embarrassing conversation, thought, or moment randomly comes up for air from time to time. Don’t let your brain get you down. It’s just bored. From an evolutionary standpoint your thoughts are there to keep you alive. Think about all the people who died in the cavemen days just so you could be here bored living in the most peaceful time ever. Think about all the people who had to died in order for us to know which plants were poisonous in the jungle. Comfort yourself in knowing we still have a monkey brain. No matter how advanced we think we are with technology and science your brain evolved to remind you, You Aint Shit! It’s Thursday! Feel better already! I was born on a thursday. knowing this always brings me joy. Life doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. If you’re feeling depressed like I’ve been all the time. This might pass you by. but don’t be fooled by the fool in the mirror. You are your own worst enemy. No one hates you more than you. No one criticizes you more than you. Your a Fucking Troll. We must learn how to work on ourselves like it’s a 9 to 5. Commit to yourself. Know yourself. and please just try to limit bashing yourself 100 times a day instead of your usual 100 thousand.
I started trashing things. I started realizing how asleep I’ve been in my life. I’ve watched too much television. Anticipated too many seasons of Game of Thrones and Scandal. Saved so many things to do later. Where have I been? What have I been doing? I honestly couldn’t tell you. One because I can’t remember most of my life because I suffer from an undiagnosed rare form of memory loss. I only remember when people did me dirty and not through images but through feeling. Two because most of my life I live in my head going through scenarios upon scenarios of events that did not happen. There is an endless movie going on in my head and I can’t seem to turn it off. They say life imitates art sometimes and I wonder if the way I do it is by being a bystander in mine. Too much talk not enough action. A kind of voyeurism of self. I love movies, or at least I used too. I worked in a movie theatre for 6 years. Many of the things I threw away just now were things from my past life. Posters of Deadpool from years ago that I never put up. Pin and toys exclusive to Amc theatres some still in the plastic wrapper. I haven’t even looked up to see if it has any value left and frankly I don’t care. It has lost all value with me as of today. my heart is broken and maybe when I’m better I’ll share but hopefully by then I ignored my feelings long enough to get over it. She said I was crazy. She said I make her feel disposable so of course she decided to dispose of me in the worst way possible. The modern way of ghosting of course. I write her on every platform possible call her and leave her voicemails to no avail. But that’s enough of that I don’t want to seem like I’m the victim here, I probably deserved it. This is my second blog of the day so I’m definitely happy about that. I could go years without writing something and like I said earlier I have a writer’s brain. I think too much. I can’t write for shit. But my thoughts bask so much in its own black hole I constantly have to smack myself out of it. I am calmer than usual though. It’s probably the Acid I did on saturday. I’m still trying to decide everything that this blog will be. definitely mostly personal. Definitely always searching for truth and peace of mind. I’ll masquerade it as a weight-loss journey but it’s more than that. It’s my life and my hope to be better.
Last Time I actually posted something I had so much hope.
Last time I wrote something I wanted to change. There is so much to say about intentions and reality. The reality was I never really committed to my life before. I understood the necessary changes that needed to take place in order to get more pussy but that’s about it. To be honest I’ve never been one to receive enough attention from cats. Never had enough meows to brag to the fellas about. What is that magical number of felines? I wish I knew. Perhaps if I knew I wouldn’t be so confused as to what happened in my life. I’m thirty now but I feel physically fifty and mentally ten. My girlfriend left me again recently so now I’m forced to reflect on the whole of my existence. I get lazy. I get depressed. I get jealous. I compare myself to others in the worst kind of envy. I am my own worst enemy most of the time, as I can only assume most of us are. I am hopeful I can somehow turn this all around. I am starting a weight loss journey again. This time with a little more self-reflection, self-help books, and a little more sadness. The perfect combination I hope. But I also want this to be more than just a weight-loss journey because it’s not the only thing I want. We live in the information age. All things are figureoutable on google and at the library. We all know what they say. They say love yourself before anybody else. They say meditate. They say exercise at least 30 minutes a day. They say social media is not the answer. All I can do is try. Try and try again until I fail enough to get it right. There lies my ultimate truth. I am afraid of failing. I am afraid of failing even though I know it’s the only way to get better at anything. I’ve lived my life too cool. Too preoccupied with being cool and ended up quietly not doing anything at all. I am a work in progress. I hope I have the strength to continue sharing with the world wide web. I hope this reaches someone like me who needs to get smacked in the face by life. I am currently 235.8 pounds. I was 250 not too long ago but being dumped made me eat less. I am no longer comfortable in inadequacy. 2020 is a horrible year but we can’t let it get the best of us. Just like Samuel Beckett said, ” Try again, Fail again, Fail better”.
Today is March 1, I woke today turned on Netflix and put on Dirty Money. Finished episode 1, then switched over to Hulu to enjoy Vikings season 4. But then I stopped.just like that. and I asked my brother to play basketball with me because the day had a decent weather of 55 degrees. He recorded most of it. I got tired quickly. Seeing myself on camera is not a pleasant experience. Since today is the beginning of the month, it’s a great metaphor for change. Lets start today as the first day of the rest of my life. One filled with a greater sense of self awareness and the courage to consistently fight for what I want. I won’t say like I usually say “let’s see how long I last” . I won’t stop until I accomplish this day dream to be physically fit and not be tired to play basketball 5 minutes in. this is me today after coming home from shooting around with my brother for about an hour. Today I am 200lbs .
This is my older brother kicking my ass. He plays his role well. I consider myself a good player like all basketball players but sometimes you have to face the facts. Don’t get me wrong I belong on the court, but only for like the first 10 minutes til I catch a sweat, or should I say til the sweat catches me.
This is my declaration to smack my fears this year and worry less about how stupid I look. I have been living my life like there’s a guy with a notebook always next to me. The guy with the notebook only has one job to do and that is to watch me live my life and score my coolness. Every time I do something stupid or “cool” I look over and see him grading me. For most of my life if I’m losing cool points I tend to hide within myself. Most likely I’m standing next to him and his notebook trying to apologize or explain myself like NBA players do with referees and he’s probably going to give me a tech for arguing. This year 2018 I’m making a declaration to change my ideas of coolness. I’m pushing the guy and his notebook to the side. These ideas of not looking foolish and not excelling at things might have become a believe system that I need to rebel against. Long live the inherent dignity of my life! In all the things that matter love, sex, art, and fitness.
What day is it? I can’t remember it . This post will need a title when I’m done. Something simple like the date because this new year, 2017, I am promising myself to write more. I’m leaving it out there in the World Wide Web. In hopes it reaches someone. Similar to life where we as the general humans we are, wish to be heard or read . We wish to be attended to, generals of a spot eyes flock to , yes sir, we wish we commanded what we wished. I write for me and generalize about everyone else. Happy new year world. I am unhappy in the current position I am in. In life I am 27 years old still living a child’s life with my parents. In death I am forever 15 living the greatest passion 3 of my lifetimes have ever known with a beautifully arranged school uniform wearing big tits having skinny Puerto Rican named Yasmin Rodriguez. Rodriguez being my last name as well I thought it meant to be. No she’s not my cousin or sister or any stereotypical hot story on porn sites and theatre plays. We were secrets to each others family which only added to the forbidden fruit we eventually gave to each other. I think about my past at times like a sad soul tortured by knowledge of knowing his own past death in the next life. Here I am again reborn in 2017. Yet kept with me are the memories of all the gardens I’ve been in and all the trees I’ve climbed and all the branches I’ve swung from. And what you must understand is that for an ape like me all I have are those beautiful jungles I called home but many times and only once.
It was a morning parallel to the similarity no one wanted in life. Afternoon arrived pregnant in disappointment . Actions slept the whole day. I am a filthy boy. Wish I could do things to you that make you yell in pleasure. I don’t have the courage to write you and say hello I need you to know I go insane without talking to you. You are as much part of my days as my clothes. To be vulnerable with you scares me. But I’d do it to the rhythms of my heartbeats. If life wasn’t in the way. So I choose this solitude for hope in meeting you in the future as a better me. One that can give things that you deserve to have or at least continue the things you are used to. Fiction would love our story if we were characters in a book I’ll write you well. I’ll write you in love I’d write you happy with all your dreams come true. In reality All my intellect can’t stop losing you. But in fiction, I would write you as royalty. You’d be a princess looking for a charmer man to put your shoes on. You’d have every gentleman after you of course because you’d be the most beautiful woman in all the world. But you wouldn’t choose them you’d choose me a farmer’s son . Because we met by chance in the rain by the town. The rest was a feeling in our hearts that never let go. And we would sneak out of our lives to be together. Under the shadow of a banyan tree the same we carved our names in. We’d be together under a waterfall let the fish watch us kiss. We’d be next to a lake with lily pads in full display. Surrounded by rocks. Inside a barnyard in a bed of hay. We would whisper at each other be with me forever.
Music suffers imprisoned within skin. Confined to my body. Felt like dancing to shame the outward pain speaking to my insides. Intruders can’t seem to strategize my demise fast enough. I wish a blanket would come and fake my stay. Mother I worry how much you worry for me.lets Stop transforming my worries into 3rd person points of views. Life should be lived with the best seat in the house not with the view of one. Death beds are real, my entire life has been a preparation for one. Silence is the passion the world needs. New York City has never been more passionate than in the dark. It hugs all it holds within the night. Through the truth of life , one could never find, I wish to experience all things in moderation. By my sexual nature to smell the air the juice of the streets the wetness of the trees, excited by the sun and change of weather. We wish we were wilder . Wind on water present in the woods. Disturbing the wax welcome the wealthy weak invited. The fear it spoke of, wasted the charm of the whispered vows we wowed ourselves believing. Although love graced us once the funk of it stung future attempts to connect. Contributed corruptible actions attracted to turbulent language loved by benevolent ideas idolized for their handmade heroic nature to sacrifice. Be brave not languid voiced the hypocrite covered in cotton. The mouth of the mind well rehearsed in practice. Bed made for a corpulent child far from maturing. Maturity is getting over the need for approval. Maturity was the age of blood, hair and height and baritone lungs.and all this was nothing more than the mathematics of life.