Tag Archives: augury

The day your world stood still

What took the cake of the things I could have been was; a better son.
I’m a genius when I put my mind to it, but Asperger’s will render that quite difficult and especially so if you couldn’t understand why you felt alienated. I can also do anything provided I had enough time, I’m really quite informed in all walks of life and it’s subordinate facets. I think that came to be because I spent so much time denying what I was and in the process learned a billion other things to be. I learned people. I learned what love and care was like without ever having a real example from home. And I pushed it. I went to extremes when I learned these things because it felt like it could get me away from my family, my universe. My parents weren’t terrible parents. I just found out, not a moment before writing this while taking a dump, that my parents were just as resilient and prolific in nature as I was. I shunned my youth solely because everyone else seemed to have a family that had it so much fucking easier than mine. My agitation increased tenfold when I found other Asian kids to come from money. They were pricks too. I subconsciously wanted to be a prick to, a big one, metaphorically. I mean I really didn’t look all that different from them apart from fashion expenditures. Its was a handicapped life as though the universe picked on us simply because it was bigger. In all I’ve learned, I’ve learned hermetically and I’ve learned that I was a terrible son because of the materialism the rest of society imposed upon me. I used to believe having lots of cool expensive things was as good as knowing who I was.

But I am not an 80 gig ps3 I purchased on the release date. I am not a plethora of vintage clothing and boys from the 60’s era. my clothes were pushing 50 years old. I am not a vast collection of DVDs of Indie cult movies. I am not my record collection of obscure musicians. I am not the display of books on my bookshelf. I am not the cute minimalist organizational angles of my ikea furniture. I am not the car I drive, nor train, nor bike.

What I am is the feeling of vintage clothing and it’s history. I am the mind of a 50 year old man, or woman I’d I include the strange obsession with shoes I had. I am the interest of new technology and new ways if being like a ps5. I am the dialogue and the story in all those movies we all love watching, even In Her Shoes. I am the feeling of an obscure musician under a needle until I click. I am the ideas in all the books I’ve read as I am the counter arguments to some of the books I’ve read. I am the clean, sleek state of an armoire from Sweden. I am catching onto the ways you and your friends make me and my friends feel.

You may think I have gone insane, but I was insane from the beginning. I was insane from misinformation until I got the picture. I want to show you but you’ll just tread on me again. What tells me I’m right is this: my picture applies to every single person in this world while yours applies to you. I want my world back. You can keep bussing tables to finance your fancies, but when the rest of us aren’t impressed anymore. You’ll feel pretty silly for thinking I was crazy. Welcome to the grander scheme of things, biaaaatch. My world is a world where lessons learned are not forgotten. I hope you can say that too one day.

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One part: breezy, two parts: free and easy, a little umbrella and serve

I once strode forth like the thunderous gallop of the tides with an answer before a question. Only one fluid ounce of yearning; half for wielding the best questions in my right hand and the other half to yield the best answers in my left. A swift silver tongue to fool them all into thinking me a fool and nothing more. The snicker of a man.

But waning in time left me only to lurk in the doorway between the deafening past and the deafened future. The raging waves of my finesse became blind raging waves and I had been nothing beyond a mere jester.

I climbed off the stolen mare in the marketplace, and watched the merchants, orphans, lambs, gamblers, liars, thieves and travelers. I shut my eyes and covered my ears at the thought of being one of them. To the right of the square was nothing, making it an ideal place to be. I shuffled a coin between the slits that were my fingers to ponder. A festive murder of crows squawked in the distance accompanied by the howl of a wolf in the other direction, paying homage to the rituals of moonlit nights. Except that night, the wind didn’t speak it’s lonesome tongue. Murmurs accompanied. Gibbering echoes like they were from the bottom of some magnificent cave. ”mine yesterday, not mine before, not mine today, mine after,” I heard at dusk.

At once, I rose forth like an engulfing field of daisies with pollen for the bees. I wielded and yielded both questions and answers in one hand and held the hand of the blind future with the other. Though, one hand on the water vase for the blossoms. The grin of a woman.

Men kill beasts. Woman kill beasts without bloodshed. I whistle with the murder, howl with the mangy mutt, waltz with the wind, snickered as a man and grinned as a woman. I see no beasts to kill for I can now see.

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