on what i just wrote about

i have a job. it's new. i make coffee, and stuff. i kinda like it.

man, i was going crazy with nothing to fill my days with. and then i found some, ugh, hobbies, thinking being busy would take my mind off the general feelings of inadequacy. and then i started getting money from the government, which was like, worse. but now i have a job of my very own, and things are coming together once again.

ok, so i'll keep up with the hobbies. i like them. i'm just glad that i don't have to depend on them anymore. now that i have day-to-day monotony, i can escape it! isn't that just a thrill a minute?

oh no. there is one downside to this. i hope i don't have to give it up entirely, but i will definitely have to cut down on jumping trains.

on true nature

christy --[adjective]: Like in nature to a train-riding hobo

this is how i would be defined in the dictionary, according to a certain website. fitting, i suppose. maybe i am a train-riding hobo. or was in another life. either way, it certainly sounds interesting.

actually, it is a quite suitable sum-up. for the most part, anyway. a hobo, according to wikipedia, is something of a wandering homeless person with a habit of hopping freight trains, moving from town to town in search of work. something to do. not necessarily a dream, but it has potential. typically, this lifestyle is/was forced upon the less fortunate, showing up especially during the great depression. nowadays, however, with work available all over, in most cases, one could play the travelling hobo card as an excuse to see the world. don't get me wrong, this might not be a forever kind of thing, but it could be a freeing experience.

imagine, no possessions. no roots. no obligations. learning to appreciate the little things. seeing the world through these eyes would, i think, open up the heart. it is of invaluable importance that we understand and appreciate the things that we take for granted.

excuse me please. i think i'll go hop a train.

on a prodigy between kid and grown-up

I found this in one of my old notebooks:

my name is george
jodie has nice teeth
purplish in colour
so i end
my poem

with a poem that says
i'm not repetitive
i'm not repetitive
i'm not
repetitive
my name is george
so i end my poem

circa 2002

on fear and the cosmos

i was just up on the roof. it's aluminum, meaning hot. i was moving a great big antenna with a rake to make the static on the tv go away (not my idea, by the way, i'm just the pawn in this game). don't mourn for me, however, for as you may have guessed, i made it out alive.

it was positively thrilling seeing the world from twenty feet higher. for some reason, when i see the ground from the roof, i'm not afraid of falling, but when i look up, i freeze. i get that furious butterfly feeling you get when you're on a roller coaster and you go up and down and up and down. like i'm afraid of falling into the sky. which, i think, is quite bizarre, since i've never lost my footing and fallen up.

the sky is much farther than the ground. that must be the reason. subconsciously, i must be afraid that if i look at the sky for too long, gravity will suddenly reverse and throw me into the universe. into the ever-changing, unforgiving, great expanse of everythingness just above my head.

i think that's a legitimate enough fear.

memory is a funny thing

the british are coming! the british are coming!

holy coconuts, batman!

there are three little bits missing from the surface of my kitchen counter. a few years back, we bought a coconut. and we couldn't get it open. so we pulled out the hammer, and a nail, and missed the coconut at least three times.

on living... a masterpiece or just a mess

for the past month or so, life has been glorious. the kind of summer that just says to you, "i am summer. hear me roar." living out of my car, moving with the breeze. lovely breeze.
i've kind of been embracing my artistic side, too. drawing. writing. snapping pictures. making music. learning. loving.

and then everything stopped.

it's not about the way he looks. it's about what's inside. and inside is gold too. for me, inside was a wall. i thought if i could loosen up, let down that wall... but all i did was warp the wall. i couldn't let him in. and now too much has happened. he doesn't know me. i don't know me.

what a mess.

thoughts

slowly, steadily, pavement disappears beneath my feet
conquered by each step

there, a house
i wonder for who lives in it
so much life i do not know

pick up the pace

car passes my thoughts
she rushes to find
what she will soon forget

racing myself
i long to see the place unconsumed by need
unconsumed by greed
solitary
secluded
sanctuary

a spider spins her torturous web
she knows only this tree, and that bush
not loss, or lust
i wonder about love

i run away
i run towards
i run to run
i stop