remember that one time? how long ago was it? probably too long ago to be vivid anymore. that’s how it goes. that’s how it went. maybe. memory is speculative at best. the past is always so long ago even if it was only recently past. and the vivid leaves as soon as the experience does.
so it’s a vague life living on a collection of incorrect coincidences being most inopportune at the time when time was without time for further consultation.
but something else is coming up anyway and who knows if it’ll be a major life event or if it’ll kill you but watch out for the updates. watch and try to make it vivid. add color where the future is bi-chromatic if able to be seen at all.
and when there was a loss for words what was really gone?
one time there was a chance to say something about that one time but the time has passed. the moment is dead, gone, buried in memories.
and when there was hell to pay, about how much did that cost? what currency was exchanged? what was the charge for? will the debt be carried over into the afterlife?
yesterday it was easy to assume the routine would be the same and it is so there’s that.
for better or worse is no better nor any worse than same old same old and the yeah yeah responses to be returned without so much as a concerned look attached to a face fast set to depart.
but then again there was that one time, you remember, that one time when it was within reach. when what was had wasn’t good enough and there wasn’t a reason to settle for less than what might be. you remember? it’s memorable even if it was only that one time.
took out a loan for another time. calculated and counted on hope but you wouldn’t cosign. maybe it was for the best. could be for the worst. who knows? what’s there to compare it to? what’s a comparison worth anyway?
who’s been more often read than whoever wrote home sweet home in latch-hook? and when there’s no place like home what does that mean for the rest of the world? oh, and to retreat a bit, the author of ‘welcome’ must have trillions of views by now standing on the stoop with salt on boots eager for a drink and some goddamn sympathy for once.
hell, life isn’t easy. take it from somebody who’s been out there and in here actually living almost every day for decades. living and remembering. remembering and trying to find something to focus on but always coming away from feeling sorry. feeling and then being. just once, can somebody else be sorry for a second? it’s been a series of apologies for longer than should be remembered but they always add form to the vagaries of yesterday. whenever that yesterday was without a shape to fill space but gaseous enough to make do. to make us feel full. to make us be full enough for the moment.
whatever words were said it’s up for debate now. watershed moments are lighthouses to avoid in the dark when those waves of other days come back. when a respite is not all it needs to be.
it’s what it was then it’ll be what it will be. what it’ll never be is what it is. to be current is to be a conversation. something a word might change.
You Don’t Get To Tell Me How It Ends Before It’s Over (Capacity Pt. 26)
Remember when this was done? That one time when there nothing no more to come? I do. Don’t you? Don’t you already remember the conclusion? It’s always been with us. It’s already a flashback. There’s no next episode because it already occurred and the series has reached its finale. Tomorrow it’ll be a #throwbackthursday, #tbt post on twitter. I just know it because I lived. Didn’t you?
What The Hell Is That Smell (Capacity Pt. 25)
OMG. You know the capacity when you’ve reached it. Nobody talks about it but I do. I will. I always will. First the blackout then the brownouts, the roving of lights removed from windows then the smell. Don’t act like you don’t know about it. We all do. It’s a stink that could make gears give up their duties if they weren’t around just to get this job done. Machines won’t stop for the inconveniences of the sensatory. They can always push past where people fail when it comes to the weaknesses of being susceptible to sensation. It’s our fatal flaw and maybe how we got here the first place. We couldn’t handle reality and now look at us living this speculative existence.
Every Now If Not Again (Capacity Pt. 24)
I know I speak too often in ‘sometimes’ but nothing is ever ‘every time’ or ‘all the time’ is it? I mean, can you have anything more than once? Or, is it now or nothing? How do we accept our endings? Do we call it ‘happy’ just because it’s over? Yeah, sometimes we have to. I congratulate my losses for being able to leave.
Who Said What To Whom (Capacity Pt. 23)
You ever hear some shit that turns your insides to piss and vinegar? Just a few words can suck all the honey out of you if you let and I like to let it. How about you? I need a good reason to be in a bad mood. Without that I’d just be asleep at the wheel, so to speak. I think we all need a little rage in our gas tanks to keep us going but rage is nothing without reason.
So, anyway, I heard well overheard somebody talking the other day and oh sweet Jesus, I wish I could’ve kicked their words right back down their throats but I’m too nice to do that. Or, maybe I just didn’t want to lose a fight with some douchebags that day. On another day, who knows, I have my limits and I’m getting close to the edge. A person just like their town can also reach capacity.
A Little Snow Is Good For The Soul (Capacity Pt. 22)
I like it when the world slows down for a bit. When this place goes a little Lake Woebegone for a few months. Snow is the way nature has chosen to scatter its Sandman dust over us folks. Snow puts us a bit more at ease. Into a state of rest – well except when the cabin fever strikes then, it’s positively sadistic. Like the clouds get off on your frustration.
Winter isn’t too long around these parts but it’s certainly long enough. I mean, even one cold day can feel like an eternity. Put enough snow on the ground and you consider a nap your best form of attack. Sleep is a weapon. Sometimes the only way to fight the weather is with somnipunk. Just take a respite from the falling snow and wake up when it’s all over. Hibernation is a powerful thing. It feeds the soul when the body can no longer fight for itself.
Comeuppance Of Age (Capacity Pt.21)
When you’re a kid you have some ideas about how the way the world works. You need to. Every good plan starts with a firm foundation. We go to school with the thought that maybe we’ll learn something that will help us get ahead and get out of this world. Or at least get out of this version of the world.
Then one day we grow up. We don’t know exactly when we’ll grow up but one day we’ll know that we’re an adult. And being adult happens differently for each person. Likewise being a kid never stops for some and being a kid comes with its own subjective understandings.
For me, one day I was a college kid and then I wasn’t. 21 wasn’t easy and it’s been worse since then. My parents ‘died’ one after another when I hit 21 and I’ve been on my own ever since. This is when I started to get a grasp of the capacity and I think I know how it works. That’s when I started rusting. Maybe I’m a hoarder but we’ll need more parts some day. I’m promising you that.