Apothegms: A Preponderance of Coldplay

"as a pendulum, man oscillates"
-Emerson

"People couldn't believe what I'd become"
-Coldplay

Y'ever get the thought in yer head that everything you need is right here, with you, right now?
Yea not so much me.
I get the impression frequently that if I were to just change a few things in my life everything would be perfect;
And by 'a few things' I mean one thing. Namely; location.

Namely or mainly?

It's snowing like the Dickens out here.
I told my roomate I would kill a man just to see the color green
(he offered me a rubber tree if I would consider killing his ex girlfriend instead,
but
don't worry,
he's just having a bad day. We all are.)
Where the fuck is the sun?

My ex girlfriend has a new boyfriend.
I haven't met him yet. Is it alright if I hope that he's ugly?
No, probably not. I do anyway. This from a man who wears a mask.
I do not need to wear this mask. I choose to. More people should wear masks.

If more people wore masks then I could stop.

Anyone else out there hate listening to Coldplay because whenever they hear Chris Martin jangling around in search of a marketable melody all they can envision is his white ass pumping in time with the music atop a lovely naked thumbs-up Gwyneth Paltrow?
Anyone?

I'm getting older.
I never thought I was a vain person but it turns out
I've been quietly in love with myself until about a month ago.
Now I avoid the mirror like the pleg.
Plague, sorry, something in my teeth.

There. Got it. On my way to lunch today
in the elevator while I was picking my teeth hungrily a man got on
and starting chitchatting with me regarding advice on book choices and how, really, (I am not making this up)
enough praise could not be heaped on Jonathan Franzen as an essayist. I couldn't wait to get away from the guy,
such a violent surge of dislike and hunger churning within me that I rushed away without
even excusing myself from the conversation and realized I didn't have change for parking meter.
Luckily, the strange man followed me out and gave me the change I needed.

I hope that guy isn't her new boyfriend.

Is it alright if I say gooch on the internet?
Gooch. Haha.

I hope Mr. Interweb doesn't bleep me like they did to that scene from that movie on TV.

"i love you because of your strenght and because of your weakness. i can't explain it"
-e

It's January and I usually succumb to despair or cynicism or both.
Cynicism is fine when you're wearing a mask but despair
means darkness and I've got enough of that without needing to try at it.
There are times in January when I get hangovers without drinking.
There are moments that surge like penecillic hot flashes when I am ready to descend into
Balearic hedonism, throw defenseless things against the wall,
a couple children,
a cute puppy,
and burn my face off.
Then I am fine.

Anxiety & frustration ebb. My counseler advises me via Skype
that they are out of my purview when really they are under my thumb.
Control them with cigarettes. No. Wait. Scratch that. Control them with cigarettes.
I quit smoking and took up running marathons. Something else that ebbs.
We expel carbon dioxide when it accumulates. Inhale oxygen to fill that void in our lungs and then consume it.
When I don't eat I get hungry. When I spend my money I am poor.
When I want to be with someone I find someone to be with
and then when things start going well I fuck that up
and she starts seeing Chris Martin or the guy from the elevator someone new.

Nature moderates all things. There's give and take. Coldplay used to rule the world, apparently, and now, well, let's just say that cycles happen. It's not neccessarily compelling narrative, but it's observable phenomenon, and this is blogging. You want compelling narrative, go read Chris Martin's blog. Or Jonathan Franzen's. I hear it's good.
I used to take walks down unfamiliar streets only to find myself right back at home.
Now I go down the same streets every day and I don't know where home is.

Obama says it's all about how and who we love.
My evidence sadly confirms this. But also
"it's all about people," sayeth Dennis the trucker, "and people always suck,
so it's all about the suck."

Overanalyzing is passe. So last decade.

I got a job last week that my buddy Jan told me would be one-day-only-easy-money but by that afternoon I had done nothing easy and realized I was out in a half frozen warehouse feeling wounded and shivering lifting big burlap bags of something that smelled like powdered cheese. I worked out the day and made 40 bucks. Walked across the tire track arcs in the snow in the fading light at the end of the day body tired, mind weak and felt the lull of sleep like I haven't felt in forever. Working hard is good for the soul. But man the unspoken voice in my head is one cynical bitch.

I know there is much to be said for living in the moment,
but what if living in the moment gets you so caught up
that then yer at the detriment of future moments?

Sometimes when I am sitting on the couch with my belly hanging out eating hamsteaks my desire to get up and do something with my life explodes into an orgasm of plans. If I try to do more than 3 things at once however I overwhelm myself and stop doing everything.

That said, next week I am taking a trip up north and I am living for nothing else. I remember the day on my trip last year when my friends all slept in nursing their hangovers and I wandered the streets alone. It was so peaceful and exhilerating (Exciting calm) to be on streets I did not know again, my eyes tearing up of their own accord while dallying in the bitter biting cold of the shadows and then the change to soft warmness in the sun. The way your eyes pick up little things because you're seeing everything for the first time: Truth in all its nakedness coming upon you in a sudden backalley stairwells, overhead electrical lines, bench ads for local lawyers, a school. The sounds also; the wet squeak & rotary clank of someone`s bicycle as they chug past or the warm lull of Ella wafting from a cosy cafe that I walk into to warm. This year I will try to take the same walk, only, without the cigarette addiction.

There used to be safety in coming home.
Now there is safety in being places I merely remember recognizing.
I can imagine someday I will only feel safe in the consistent and utterly unrecognizable.

"Travel more, they always said to her, and so she bought a ticket. On the Titanic."
-Jan

Now I'm glancing over at the snow falling while Dennis watches episodes of Jersey Shore
(nvm, he's back to playing Red Dead Redemption) and I'm ready to fall back asleep.

"Gooch."
- DMM