unhinged flashbacks of simpler times
been having a lot
when two dollars
seemed like a high price
for a pack of cigarettes

the summer before he moved to hawaii, made a trip home. he had his drivers liscense and was driving dad's rusted out old ford tempo. we went to the disc golf course to get out of the house and hopefully smoke a little. they were putting a bike path through the course so the cops could catch the kids smoking pot. he had shagged out hair and no neck from all the weight lifting. tooling around in the same freaky rural suburban hood, stopped at the light and his thin split ended shag bouncing and banging to bury me with it by modest_mouse and his hand pounded on the steering wheel and he blew his hair out of his face as he turned the car.

a silent observer, i still felt like an outsider. the living room of his house on silliman street off mahoning filled with weed smoke from the passing joint. he freaked and left the party as strains of modest_mouse filled the house and everyone silent bobbed their stoned heads to the beat. they came in the back door carrying her drunk ass between them.

the sunlight seemed painful. my eyes wanted to close. my brain silently replayed all the craziness of the night that had melted into day. quiet, we drove home. when we heard the birds in the trees, we looked at each other 'woah dude. that was fucked up. let's go to bed.'

and he called me after they broke up
and we talked and talked
i felt like the pain of years
was finally useful
that his brain understood
what i was trying to tell him
and maybe someday his heart would too
there was this desparate clenching
i could feel over the telephone
like we both wished to be hugging each other
that maybe if we squeezed ourselves tight enough
we could both feel it
and we hung up
i dissolved into a puddle on my floor
i had learned how to not cry
but suddenly the tears were ripped out of me
i dissolved into a puddle on the floor

i remember when cigarettes were less than
two dollars a pack
the luxury of a cheap death
the click of the flint
smoke swirling
air currents made visible
watching them float away down the path
that led across the bridge
the small comfort
of an easy choice
in times of war
that in the web of the great net
our little melodrama didn't mean much
didn't make it hurt any less
some important part of who we were
before we learned how to lie
being ripped out
making air currents visible
blown away
the butts burned down the only proof
unhinged the_good_times_are_killing_me
phil talk 071111
unhinged because when you say the words, you make them reality. and sometimes creating reality out of the shit that floats around in your head is enough to make it disappear. 071112
? so talking makes shit disapear? well maybe the shit in my head is a reflection of what i see and hear, i somtimes wish that i was deaf, it is not a very nice wish but i'm sure i would be less disturbed. No shit will just disapear because it is not just in my head it is what reality gives my head. who will make it better?

but what the fuck is reality may i ask you?
unhinged talk because you might find somebody to relate to
somebody that feels the way you do
that makes you feel like you aren't all alone
cause the fact is
the scowl on your face
might be chasing the light away
the scowl on your face
might be scaring the neighbor
that would otherwise see something to relate to

reality is what you see it to be
give instead of take
smile instead of quake
happiness is a choice
that we all have the right to make

(ick rhyming)
. no, i don't find anyone to relate to actually, that is only what i wish for, if i do start talking most people tell me to "GET A GRIP" and "LIVE IN THE REAL WORLD", so i decide to shut the FUCK up and just enjoy what i have inside. I'm not a competitor and i'm not someone that is prepaired to take stress for the sake of a job that means nothing to anyone, i'm not prepaired to be treated like shit either...

"GET A JOB, GET A JOB" what the fuck for? i am a worthless piece of shit good for no one and nothing. i don't just want to to go to work to make money that i will spend on myself. Look how much money is spent paying politicans... they all sit there all day long arguing about the some net they got themselves trapped in.

i'm going to work in a plastic flower factory so that i can buy myself food, pay for a house that is already built and pay electricity that could be free from the suns energy if anyone had a brain.

what is your IQ ? what a load of fucking bollocks,
my IQ is lets start another cosmetics company because sanitation in Europe is almost as bad as it is in India. Make money, make money, make money, it might make you happy one day. i'm just rat food - at least i am good for something.

I always have the best fun on my own because everyone wants to be accepted and acknowledged and respected in a fucked up world i don't want to be a part of.

boooooo hoooooo

don't worry, i'm not a manic depressive just pissed off with Santa Claus!
unhinged there are some jobs out there that actually do good in the world and don't feed the machine you seem to despise so much

i am not a competitor either and i know my ideal world is entirely too fair to ever work in reality, but i make myself happy within my supposedly small means. that is the best revenge. i don't own a home or a car. i could consolidate my life into a few boxes tomorrow and find the next best place. my dad tells me i'm too liberal. my dad thinks i'm crazy for being content to be this 'poor' but eh. i enjoy what i'm doing. nothing else matters to me. the bus can be kind of annoying sometimes though. but then again, everything seems annoying to me lately.
unhinged (i am just barely above the poverty line here in america. i agree with you that capitalism is a crock. materialism is just something society wants you to believe. but the world will never be as socialist as i want it to be, especially here.) 071112
:) The things you contributed here, Kuffsleeve, are things I relate with. I often feel the same way. Why am I to toil away for things that are already present? Some "propietary measures" make sense, but this "ownership-society" is out of control.

Things could be worse, but all the same, things could be so much better. Unfortunately, it's probably out of any one person's hands, at this point.

Also, I agree that IQ measurements are faulty. Supposedly my adjusted IQ is in the "highest" category (14x+s), but what does this get me? I am 30, live with my parents, have no friends, have no promising job prospects, feel pretty stupid and am severely lonely. Psychologists and pills have helped me none (I'm not bipolar either), but that's what most people seem to suggest. It's the easiest solution for them to proffer, I suppose.

I do not hate anyone; there are many people I resent but I still want everyone to "self-actualize". I do believe, in spite of my problems, that I am capable of self-actualizing, and I even have moments where I manage to do so. (It doesn't look how I thought it would look, but so what.)

Try and be the best possible you, and try and help others do the same. Don't cut down their troubles with hastily contructed solutions; simply empathize and help them to grow if a chance presents itself.

I'm totally rambling. Time to go, eh!
unhinged the fact that what i'm looking for
is so hard to find
to have someone hold me
innocently love me
without having any designs on me

i feel like a broken record
a flower forced to stay shut
where i used to feel hopeful
that i'd get what i was looking for
now i'm working on
making myself content
with what i have
the death of hope
hard to swallow
unhinged and just when i thought
i didn't have any left

there you were
drunk enough on tequila to
ask me out

being with you
brings back pieces i thought
were gone forever

(i have learned how to smile at
little things:
who knows
maybe that's what caused you to ask for a date)
unhinged . 130410
what's it to you?
who go