Tag Archives: truth

Look Both Ways

How heavenly it is to allow love to take over reason. To entrust instinct over logic. Favoring free flying frilly feelings from fastened floundered phrenicism. Believing what had once tenanted our hearts to be truth all along. Love is truth, and reason could never contend in that ring.

…But I was raised to believe reason ran the world. Since this is true, then love would destroy the world. In minute increments. The tragic irony of it truly makes it beautiful, and I can’t help but commend His sense of humor.

You want love? Want to make love? Want to imitate it instead? Everyone needs a fuck buddy. Everyone is a fucked buddy.

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Chateau Marmont

A fine line is drawn between non-fiction and fiction, as you know, also pertains to daily life. We justify them with phrases like, utter honesty, or if heaven permitted, white lies. Through the thick haze of semantics, and this could be a purely opinionated observation, what is to be said of the truths that neither parties want to accept? Let alone, justify. Not knowing what I mean is sign alone, but an example would be, “I didn’t want to drink that cup, but the adamantly opinionated fellow, convincingly propagated the pleasure he were to receive if I were to drink it. (nothing specific, but take note that it will involve whiskey over whiskey, the only alcohol that doesn’t influence my urge to hasten physically delegated damage for unexplainable reasons.)

Excuse my malformed analogy, they sound good most of the time, but even I, am confused. In my case, the confusing stipulation was my contentment of being sorrowful. Even the sense of ad hoc justifications does not interrupt when I say that. I am content with it because I know I can not express myself adequately without the sour bits of life, I never had a sweet tooth, and can not translate the sweet things in life. At least, not in a self-actualizing manner, because anyone can conjure a justification, and for almost any reason. I don’t loathe the misery, in fact, I crave it as it is my only means of escape. The most efficient one at least. And it’s because of teeth, the one’s behind most frowns and most smiles, glossy and off-white.

In script, as you’re presented with, I write a certain way, but close friends of mine would never anticipate my particular combination’s of words, scribed in internet splurge format. There’s a good reason for that. Entity. Some of us are truly blessed with the gift of writing the way they speak, and others, speak louder only in one of the two formats. I am not blessed with speaking as well as I scribe; can not enunciated the words of my soul. Perhaps I’ve focused too much on the Arabic structure, but I doubt I’d have been who I am without the comfort I find in transcribing ocular nonsense. *hint*

In person, I’m bright, lively, and optimistic. Hard to believe? I agree entirely and allow an explanation [I’ve discovered moments ago.] In a physically organic fashion, I’ve never preferred to leave without sucking a smile out of a person, even  at my own expense. I’ve always believed being positive or negative around others is contagious, and only one of those options was beneficial. A smile from the most unwilling face shone warmer than any sunny day, and I craved that feeling like a junkie did for his next spell. In a physically organic fashion, of course.

On paper, my mentally organic expression, my art, my translation of the soul within, blah blah, etc; the joy is derived from the malice. It is masochistic, and contrived, though, I feel more can relate to that. A laugh and a smile are a quick and temporary fix, and it goes appreciated, however, the combination of words your eyes follow will map the path of your lament, or willingly, they dark and evil shit you don’t ever want to say out loud. I feel that way too. If there’s a passage I find so ‘everything-below-the-equator’ everything oriented in pessimism, EXCEPT wrong, chances are, I’ve given it my loyalty.

The only problem I have, and can identify with, is that a strong and committed person can easily lose their place when they walk the tightrope. I thought I had it down; love it all in person, hate it all on paper. I don’t. I was never as strong as I thought I was, I’ll find myself in sweaty situations deciding between vanilla and chocolate. I’m terrible with confrontation, but my confrontations occur when I’m certain on how wrong you are. Pretentious. Yes, seemingly, but this post allows no room for petty white lies. It is possible I may be undergoing an influx of  consciences, but if that’s all it took, isn’t it reason enough to take a second look? I want to keep writing as a sad bastard listening to Belle and Sebastian, but I find myself living as every hit song The Strokes have ever had. It’s 6:34 in the morning, maybe I should sleep on it.

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Fox in the Snow, Lion in the Station Wagon

Cops are required to uphold and enforce the law. Reporters are pretty much required to do the same, except, uphold the truth and enforce the truth. Pop quiz: what do you call a false statement that you promote and fence to others who actively look toward your answers and responses? I’ll let that stew for a moment, and continue with cops and shit. An honest cop is dubbed a hero, dubbed noble, dubbed dependable. As long as they are an honest cop. However, within law enforcement, there aren’t always honest cops. Crooked cops. Corruption, mis-information, tamperings-of-evidence. It happens. Figure out the answer to the pop-quiz question?

It’s called a lie. The difference between a cop, and a reporter, is a reporter is guilty until proven innocent. Why that is the general consensus, I do not know. What I do not know, I will embrace. A crooked cop is crooked when he is caught. Logical? Yeah. A reporter will go great lengths; barbed wire, ugly killer dogs, bad music, jurisdictions, aliases, etc. That’s a reporter, also guilty until proven innocent because the truth itself is widely regarded to dissemble the perpetrators, or dissemble the actuators. The truth is dangerous to both parties and only the reporter has any control over such information. i.e. 24, CIA, FBI, the West Wing, Gilligan’s Island, Arthur, etc.

“What about white lies?” Some may wonder? I will then counter with; “how can you tell a white lie from the other?” 

How? I was the reporter, and no good was derived. The cunning and equipped (friends/weapons/truths), are dominant. Those of whom can and will crush whenever they please, and that’s just the world we live in, whilst one is powerful, or whilst one’s forced to work tenuously on obtaining a GED. Sometimes, and at most times (due to my freakishly accurate memory), it was infinitely more advantageous to just not fucking say anything. I just had a thing about taking my own advice. Though, I’d never thought, or dreamed of saying this as a final statement; “The truth will not set you free, it will piss the wrong person off, most every time…

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