Unbiffed

I’m doing a lot better mentally since I cratered-out the other day. I recognized my biff, corrected, and began the process of moving forward with a new mindset. I really do harm to myself trying to hastily grab for reassurances, companionship and an end to the affectionless wasteland I’ve isolated myself in. It is a terrain of my own making and I must correct that myself before hoping some outside factor will magically poof me to a new venue.

I don’t want to endanger any of the good things I have going either. I forgot how wonderful it is to be surrounded by people who share a common thread of interest, or many. It can be intoxicating, but that’s (again) on me to regulate. I misconstrue friendship often, adding undesired bonus contexts that often ruin the original thing in my greed.

Thoughts on this help me see my mistakes and correct them with changes in behavior. I can still have all the good things I have been enjoying without the turmoil of the land beyond the radiation zone. I can’t imagine ever getting to the point to needing to explain myself fully, and my precarious circumstance. The ideal I have set out for that threshold is unlikely to be met at all. It could be, but I’m not betting on that no matter how much I long for it. My isolation is for a purpose, and entirely my own fault.

Beautiful as she may be, I’ll only ever be in orbit of her world from a distance where gravity’s distant grip only keeps me from being flung off into space.

 

 

Biff

I probably needed to be reality checked but wasn’t able to do so myself until now. I have a clear view of the important things again, and have fallen back on my active coping tools to help express my nonsensical responses to reality. I need mental discipline. I don’t understand why I’m doing this to myself given how emotionally perilous my life already is. My circumstance teeters on catastrophe and I’m running around doing the best I can to tip the balance.

I am still clearly unregulated. Self-combustible. There’s a lot I have left to figure out, but I’m also aware of the likelihood of solitude regardless of this particular circumstance. I’ve said it repeatedly in this space, but yet, I still don’t accept that fate. I rebel, and have little regard for outcomes while starting the inevitable in the face. Well, inevitable is an exaggeration. I should stop smashing other people in to cookie cutters. It’s my poor decision making that led to my own state, and at least now I understand that.

I’m still going to eat shit at some point in the future, but I’ll no doubt learn something new then as well.

Lessons

Well I did learn that distant relationships with fleeting intimacy don’t work for me. It’s just not fair to S in the end though. I did just abruptly leave after waffling in uncertainty about the irritating nature of our arrangement. It’s my fault for not at least explaining anything. It’s just not possible for me to healthily have that kind of relationship with someone. I snapped off. Blacklisted. Gone. Back to the cell with my broken toys. I am catalyzing. The reagents for my departure were well in place and only suffered my ignition. This is my fault though. She definitely could handle it while I could not at all. She’s right to be angry, but it will fade when her world moves on and I become irrelevant. Or, more irrelevant than I was before. I was already little more than an afterthought, which is not much to lose at all.

Lametown

Well my escapade with S has cratered into the fertile soil of regret. Not that it was unexpected, but I was hoping for some semblance of closeness and got nothing of the sort (either physical or mental) Isolation pervades, and I grow increasingly alone on my island. This is typical, since most encounters I have attempted in the past end in revulsion, rejection and outright dismissal. This time though, I was just acting on the flammable material that was prepped and ready to be set ablaze. S has no real interest in me (or anything going on in my life) and I in her (arguable, I was denied access to her life in full), so it was natural that once the sex was gone there was zero left to hold us together. She was upset at me for walking away again (because I tried once already), but I need to say goodbye.

Realistically, I’m giving up on trying to build this bridge and evict myself from my unwanted isolation. There isn’t anyone who fits the criteria that I keep hoping someone will meet. This is a hopeless procedure and, frankly, I was doing much better without trying to make something happen. I am tired of smashing inadequate results into a lasting mold that fits my bizarre reality. There is no future where settling for whatever wanders past is the right choice, and it never has been. Not saying that happened, but all the applications for building something of value have been turned down upon review.

I don’t harbor anything more than a feeling of sadness, since I am shining brighter than I ever have. Yet, most women I meet can’t wait to escape my radius. I think it’s back to reason and the incremental successes of life. A and I are as far apart as we ever were in our past relationship… with no real gratification, feedback or anything to judge the ongoing value of continuation. What is this simple chat we have? Is it anything other than an activity to occupy a few moments of my time? Is there meaning to be had in these defused and innocuous statements? I tire. I think this might also be a product of my frustration and not indicative of the pattern. I feel no less alone like I hoped I would, or like I did at first. I quickly discovered just because you have people to talk to, doesn’t actually mean anyone really sees/hears you. Or cares.

Profile removed. Chapter adjourned. Now just to clear out the jetsam that has accumulated and start over again by myself. Disappointing? Oh hell yes. Crippling? No, not at all. I have done what my instincts were asking me to do. I tried, I had, I lost. It seems like the road to partnership has been overrun with brambles and foul smelling carcasses galore. I have little reason to go back there until long after the stench of decay has cleared out.

Shelf Of Issues

I don’t know what functional looks like right now. I’m taking the walls of the pit to find a way out. There is no out. Prepare for an onslaught of allegories:

Instead of feeling stable, I feel like there are issues that just get stashed on a shelf somewhere out of sight to promote the impression of not being overloaded. There’s no argument that the stashy is not s solution by any stretch. It’s not even a temporary anything.

Who am I right now? There’s a bunch of different personas colliding in here. Vicarious and pragmatic alike, with a sprinkling of ardent skeptics and jubilant idiots. I don’t know what to make of the lot and their shouting. Who emerges… the ambiguity of leadership falls in line with the rest of my reality.

I don’t know. I think that’s the real deal right now. I don’t fucking know what I’m doing or who I’m failing at trying to be. Am I this adaptable fellow? He’s all bendy and detached from concern. Do I have my “scrutinize the fuzzy shit out if this” pants on? I don’t much like those pants now that I have them on. Have you ever felt utterly lost in trying to understand who you are?

I do admire that adaptability I seem to be warmed beside the glow of. Hopefully it also doesn’t destroy me.

Night Guy Does A Mood Album

Hey Blog, Night Guy here.

This other guy is a kook pretty much now that I’m going over all these notes and things left behind. Anyway, this music medium is how the previous administration tried to convey or interpret a state of being or emotional narrative for processing and comprehension. I’m not as much in to all the fluffy shit that goes along with this activity, but I guess I can scrutinize what has already been made available for me to cast judgement upon. See this album as a prognosis for the former occupant, and an indicator of the turbulent future he carved out for himself. This album is, basically, how it is; sad, stark and laid out there for all to see. Please don’t send me mail about the deeds of the prior administration, it will all get forwarded to the daytime guy.. or whoever he was. He may have fled the country.

**UPDATED**

So after listing to it a couple of times, it just wasn’t Night Guyish enough. I spruced this bad boy up with some silly putty and electric shocks. Enjoy!

Mood Album: Emo-Slave Resurrection v. 2 (Night Guy Edition)

Length: 77 Minutes

  1. For Your Love – Fleetwood Mac
  2. More Than A Woman – Bee Gees
  3. Chains Of Love – Erasure
  4. Ventura Highway – America
  5. Rikki Don’t Lose That Number – Steely Dan
  6. The Other Side Of Life – The Moody Blues
  7. Don’t You Know What The Night Can Do? – Steve Winwood
  8. Feels So Good – Chuck Mangione
  9. The Night Owls – Little River Band
  10. You Don’t Have To Cry – Crosby, Stills & Nash
  11. Owner Of A Lonely Heart – Yes
  12. The Heart Of The Matter – Don Henley
  13. Cowboys & Angels – George Michael
  14. Nothingman – Pearl Jam
  15. Because The Night – 10,000 Maniacs
  16. Conviction Of The Heart – Kenny Loggins