Monday, August 17, 2009

1:12am Living Room - The Lathe of God

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick...
time. just. keeps. moving. on...
trying to understand, this is trying to control. trying to understand purpose and meaning, thats trying to control. i need to let this go for a while? i need to let this go for a while. the agonising search for meaning. maybe by letting go, i will come that much closer to it. i can only pray.
last night, was it only last night?, the Kings of Leon concert was phenominal. Very present for it. But disconnected at the same time. I was so present that i was disconnected from any worries or fears. Almost entirely disconnected from my ego, my concious self. Free to release into emotion and senses. Let my body move how it wanted to and all felt right in the world. A bit lonely afterwards, as the others were even more stunned than I was from the intensity of the show. "A gift from God', her mother called it. She just sat there, her mouth slightly open, eyes staring past the broken plastic cups and beer soaked floor, into the ghosts of the music echoing around the stage. Though Devotchka was playing, actually. beautiful that. Took a while, kept my calm, finally boarded a bus. Jumped off first, and walked up McDonald to the girls' house, though I would be the only girl in it that night, they were all partying at cabins in the woods or on a lake. Stopped by the boys' house and had a very nice chat. In to bed around 12:30 i would guess, but very awake, composing a letter in my head, a message about the concert to a boy who would have very much liked to have seen the show. Woke this morning at 6 to use the toilette, wide awake though, grinning. Dozed until 8, then rolled out of that wonderfully comforting bed. Its so interesting how different beds can be so much more appealing than your own. I find I fall asleep better almost anywhere besides my actual bed. The place where im supposed to sleep. Considering the couch tonight, actually. A beautiful morning. Sitting on their porch with a cup of chai tea and rice milk, I felt like I was at a cabin. A late summer early morning, with the first nip of fall in the air. Delicious but slightly bittersweet. Drove the grey bus to the house to load up my furniture then spent 3 hours at the mall, consuming. Bouncing up to the top floor I sliced my toe on the escalator, resulting in a call to security, a professionally medically bandaged 'helix', and them shutting down the escalator to 'investigate'. mama mia ;) Back to the house, engage in bad old habits and then dive into bad old habits as carloads of my family arrived and my stress levels bounced around like Angel's rubber chew toy. Finally left around 6. And left vancouver for home around 9. In the car, daydreaming wonderfully to bassnectar, realized that trying to deny the fact that i wanted to eat when i got home was trying to control. So i allowed myself to realize i wanted to eat. But beyond that, i wasnt sure what to do. still not sure. so i ate. so much that now i feel ill and depleted. and inevitably wondering about purpose. but deciding i need to let purpose and meaning fall into the hands of my guiding spirit. but truly, all of it? do i structure my days mechanically then? mechanically never worked. do i structure at all? i need guidance on guidance...
i think a meeting would do me good, i think a meeting, a meeting, would do me good. today. this evening. because it is now tomorrow.
The Lathe of God is a book written in 1971 about the future in which a man named George Orr dreams 'effective dreams' that change reality. And about his psychatrist who tries to control what he dreams. And about free will and the greater good and...a lot of very interesting topics, that made for a bad night read, because they just got me riled up and eating to distance myself from the hard topics that were being tilled.
Feel physically awful.
Think ill go to bed.
"...gonna be somebody...", "...use somebody...", " there for you..."

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