Poem: Openness

Openness may as well be my blood.

Scared cold lips build pressure

Pressure creates madness

Madness grows thick skin.

Thick skin that is the crust between your eyes and mine.

remember WELL the marginalization

Remember WELL the marginalization you felt.

Alone in the bus depot.

Fear of disease.

Not invited (to anything known about and wanted).

Emails not replied to.

My parents were very inquisitive, very SKEPTICAL, very dull and negative.

My dad asked-

-was that real, or just fudged to look good?

-but what would you actually do?

They're on this fucking mission to get at THE TRUTH as if they're somehow superior to everyone else ------ they're bitter, is what they are -------they feel like they've been taken, and THEY'RE NOT GOING TO BE TAKEN AGAIN so from now on they're on guard, they're on guard against being fucked over, they're FUCKING NEGATIVE AND CYNICAL.

Hah and I am ranting- look at this ranting- this is terrible- I should be positive.

When you're quiet, and you avoid people, and you make critical remarks, you may think that you're being PRUDENT but you're being a PRUDE. You come across as SHIFTY, as IMPOLITE, as fucking RUDE.

Your fears are destructive. Not destructive in a sympathetic way, not like your fears are hurting you-you-must-overcome-them… no, your fears cause you to be a negative bitch, a callous, a prude, someone others do not like, they feel uncomfortable around you. They would rather not be with you at all.

Your fucking fears! Your timidness! Is there an excuse for timidness? It's BAD! WHY CAN'T WE SEE HOW FUCKING BAD THIS TIMIDNESS IS? THIS FEAR? WHY CAN'T WE ACKNOWLEDGE HOW HORRIBLE IT IS TO LIVE WITH GUILT? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

You know where this evil comes from? It comes from a Christianity that forces you into believing that EVERYONE ELSE IS EVIL! I think it is insidious, it is evil, it is calloused, CHRISTIANITY is the shrivelled fruit that needs to be chucked or upchucked.

Confused love with complicity

I have confused love with complicity…

I was so above-other-people that I was complicit with noone.

The reason XXXXXX was so amazing was not that we connected exceptionally well---

It was that I was impressed enough with her 'credentials' that I opened my ears, believed that what she said meant something. I believed, for the first time in weeks, that she was as good as I am. She was the only girl I was complicit with for months! Everyone else… I lorded over them like a caped hawk. I believed, because XXXXXX had told me, that I was the best. That I was the best. That I was the best person my age that our country had to offer. Obviously I was better than the rest of them. This left very few people for me to associate with on an equal footing. This left very few people for me to learn from. This left very few people for me to BE with.

It left me alone with my moneygrubbing desires.

Now I am free.

Humility is not made moot by ability.

Dinner. And, forgotten in a dorm room.

Tonight was a form-fitting example of meeting a new person and getting along well, having a FUCKING FANTASTIC conversation in the process.

I was fully able to explain to XXXXXX my thoughts on income distribution and trade, my essay, my ideas of XXXXXX(and religion and social fabric and my own place), my issues with trust (XXXXXX) and failure (XXXXXX) and mom (avoiding questions that really ASK). It was a good two to three hours of just TALK! Like I was completely sent back to those times when I am socially 'fluid'!!!!!!!!!!! I love this. This is what life is for; this is what I am for.

He responded with extreme openness to my own openness. He told me that he knows a lot of people, through his work etc., but does not think he has ever had a real friend, because he has not taken the time to develop a friendship with someone. He has had really difficult and tense times with his parents, so he has thrown himself into volunteering, helping others, to avoid this situation at home. He manages a theatre (live theatre), the money etc. and was involved in some student politics, representing all XXXXXX students in XXXXXX - 150,000 people. This taught him an important lesson… that he cannot be liked by everyone. Earlier he had a utopian idea that he could be liked by everyone… and then in some tense negotiations (he was the negotiator) he had threats by phone calls etc. quite traumatic and difficult, but good for the things he learned in the process.

He is kind of… well he is thin, and not fragile but thin like XXXXXX. I wouldn't have expected that he had been in charge of 8 staff in his student representative position, or that he was a manager at the theatre. He's really a cool person, he is very smart and is able to mobilize himself.

We talked for a long while about happiness; he told me that he really couldn't say that he is happy right now. This led to talk of his parents, of volunteering etc. that I mentioned later. He said that he always has new years goals, and he gets excited about them for a good week etc. but they don't last. It was a little… wonderful, to be talking so freely with someone. It was someone I hardly know, but have good vibes with. Sharing my own self with him really freed up the space around us and led to us sitting over our meals (I had AMAZING duck) until 10.20… we had been there at least two and a half hours, I would say. He ate really, REALLY slow! It was so perfect. If I had not been so ridiculously hungry I probably could have kept pace!!!

These past couple of days have been a real emotional rollercoaster. As I explained it to XXXXXX, I think that's partially due to my past seclusion from people in XXXXXX. I'm suddenly in all kinds of social situations that I'm not used to, and I don't know what to do with myself. I think good evidence of that could be how fast I opened up to him -- how fast I would open up to anyone who could really listen (and he was a good listener and seemed appreciative of everything I was sharing). Anyway- so I am going from place to place, never quite knowing where I stand with the people I interact with. It's complicated in that way because - I am just not in my social groove! I am in my own little world and it takes time and the patience of others for me to climb out of it.

This really shows how important it is for me to have someone I can talk to openly. XXXXXX makes me depressed and isolationist when I confide in him; he cuts off my meanderings with presumptive remarks, as though he understands everything. But HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING! Having someone sit there and listen, and add CONSTRUCTIVE remarks of his own -- that was what it was like eating supper with XXXXXX. It was what friends should BE.

I cannot be with XXXXXX, I think. I think it is bad for my life. I need someone positive to be with! Did you hear that? POSITIVE! XXXXXX, while 'unhappy,' at least GAVE OFF GOOD VIBES.

Do you think she realized how utterly ridiculous this evening was? She transformed 'leaving me alone in her room for Saturday night' into me 'having her room all to myself.' I took this transformation one step further, emphasizing how it was in 'downtown XXXXXX.'

Does she have any idea just how far this is from what she promised on MSN? Checking out XXXXXX night life? You call this NIGHT LIFE?

In their presence, I became especially excited at the prospect of doing my homework the next day. How wonderful it was to have an opportunity to catch up on my essays!

She deserves a long, balanced letter describing what I have learned on this time in XXXXXX, and how I felt about "our time together." I cannot help but think of my time with XXXXXX: here I am, having flown all the fucking way to XXXXXX, to be left by myself in her fucking dorm room to sleep on her bed in my sleeping bag. After giving her that fucking necklace, which she promised to pay for before re-negging and accepting my previously offered gift.

This is honestly retarded.

Okay, I am sorry, I know she was busy, but she could have said as much beforehand! She could have told me that she was going to be busy on Saturday night! Do you think I would have come back to XXXXXX if I had known? No! I could even pull a quote from an MSN conversation to make my point..

No, I would have stayed with XXXXXX in XXXXXX and caught a ride back to XXXXXX with XXXXXX.

I am sorry but I may have to say some of this to her tomorrow afternoon.

I explained to XXXXXX about how I am in a state of flux, in the sense of having rejected christianity and lost trust and faced failure, and that I am in a state of wanting something -- wanting that glint in the eye, wanting that social fabric -- but I do not have it, and as a result of this flux I am very open. Open in the sense of -- undecided about myself, and about life. And so in a sense I leave myself a little vulnerable at times, in new situations, and wait to guage the people around me before opening up.

Quebecois culture seems to have something to offer there. I haven't explained to you just how utterly devoted to God I was -- and how much the world breaks down when you give up the things you hold closest to your heart. Christianity was more than a strong ideology for me, it also provided the social glue of life. It supplied the flesh and blood to cover my bones; all of the soft areas of life -- it was an institution that fed my brain with information and more importantly PEOPLE. And so I've given that up to be a walking skeleton… where's the glint in my eye? Where's the reason to give? What reasons can I find to be a positive something?

lyrics

I face very ordinary problems. Problems that people of all walks of life face. How I solve my problems, how I conceive of them, mayb e unique to me, but the problems themselves --- I am kidding myself if I think they are unique in any way!!

I have observed this weekend (and I observed in Chile) that I have high levels of insecurities related to being alone in an unfamiliar place. I saw a little of this in myself in Chile, as well. This I believe could partially be a result of my lack of effort towards meeting new people, the activity that once gave me so much pleasure…

Don't declare things you enjoy to be useless or bad!

Enjoyment is its own reason?

To a point.

Desire / The Lover's Passion

A lover knows only humility; he has no choice. He steals into your alley at night; he has no choice. He longs to kiss every lock of your hair; don't fret. He has no choice. In his frenzied love for you, he longs to break the chains of his imprisonment. H ehas no choice. A lover asked his beloved, do you love yourself more than you love me ?

The loved replied: I have died for myself and I live for you. I have disappeared from myself and my attributes. I am present only for you. I had forgotten all my learnings, but from knowing you I have become a scholar. I have lost all my strength, but from your power I am able. I love myself, I love you. I love you, I love myself.

I am your lover; come to my side. I will open the gate to your love. Come settle with me, let us be labours at the stars. You have been hiding so long, endlessly drifting in the sea of my love. Even so, you have always been connected to me. Conceived, revealed, in the unknown, in the unmanifest. I am life itself. You have been a prisoner of a little pond. I am the ocean, and its turbulent flood. Come merge with me. Leave this world… be with me. I will open the gate to your life.

I desire you more than food or drink my body my senses my mind, hunger for your taste. I can sense your presence in my heart, although you belong to all the world. I'm waiting in silent passion for one gesture, one glance, from you.

Realization about mother

The way my mother looks at me, at times, in ways which make me feel uncomfortable and lead XXXXXX to say that it is possible to "love too much," is the same way I looked at XXXXXX on my second visit to XXXXXX. I just sat there, feeling royally content to be in the midst of such a person as her, who I could glorify in my mind and then exaggerate our connection. It is the same way I've always been tempted to look at an object of affection.

The insidious portion of a gaze arises from its idleness. Love is an interaction; love is playfulness; love is a two-way street -- it IS the street, not the destinations on either end of it. It is un-love-like to peer over the street to ogle at the object of desire, no matter how wonderfully carven our mental images of that beautiful figure are. When I am with XXXXXX, what must overcome the moment is … the moment itself. The feeling must be mutual, it must be raw, and it must be brutally self-evident. Brutal because nothing less than over-the-top self-evidence can suffice.

Behind the gaze -- what lies behind the gaze? A will to power?

Observations:

a - my mother told me she would sell the house for me (can I buy your love?). I think that she holds physical gifts in high regard, believing that they have the power to bind people together or show sincerity. I do not give a damn about physical gifts.

b - my mother has said numerous times how she admires me and looks up to me. It feels empty when she talks like this, because the unspoken realm reeks of 'I am less than you'. Who among us really wants compliments from people who are not qualified to comment?

c - my mother refrains from talking about issues that matter to her for fear that I will question them. At Christmas she told the whole family about how I am always causing her to question what she believes. That she's kind of scared of opening her mouth because I will cause her to have to think twice about what she believes.

d - my mother, within the week, made me feel exceedingly uncomfortable by hovering her head about two inches from mine while saying good night, as if waiting for something. Fucking uncomfortable. Power.

e - my mother asks me INCESSANTLY if I love her. As if she is just waiting for me to say no. It is probably every day, or every two days. It pisses me off. The last time I said that I loved her she said 'Thank You'. What the fuck does that mean, eh? That's what I said to XXXXXX after that night, and afterwards I realized what a fool I was, a tool, for saying it. How can you thank someone for saying "I love you"? It seems like a desperately wrong thing to say.

Forgotten, at a train station.

Two hours ago I stepped off a bus from XXXXXX. I've been in the bus station, more or less, since then. My stomach sometimes goes jittery, vibrating and the like. It's the same way I felt before meeting XXXXXX. For her, I was nervous because I had created a mild infatuation inside my head that was later dashed and caused my mind to roll over like a dog wanting to be scratched but getting nothin'. Now I'm just worried. Worry worry worry! Worry is the self-diagnosis of evil based on symptoms that aren't specific to the diagnosis..

My legs are crossed; am I gay? My laptop is resting, raised and tilted. I am not amused at these cold blasts of air that would blast up my ass if I wore a skirt. Pinpoint the problem: Write down possible solutions: Pick best solution. Who the what the fuck? I don't want to pinpoint a problem, I want to avoid having to be embarassed.. Or appearing to embarrass others… it was my damn fault for not CONFIRMING. Let this be my lesson for the next four months: if there are seven letters I must memorize for event-planning, these are them: CONFIRM. Confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm.

Now to be a productive bastard. I do, after all, want to be done this course by the time I arrive home, and I've not had much production yet. Rediculoso.

Also, there are many unknowns related to the operation of this bus depot. When will it close? Will I eventually be alone? I hardly want to be calling XXXXXX at 11:00 pm, to have her find out THEN that I just spent seven hours in a fucking bus depot. That would be just grand, just grand. That would make it into the books not for its outrageousness, but for its utter lack of anything distinguishable at all for interest's sake. It would be a cloud without silver lining. There is no silver lining to missing out on the big CARNAVAL because I can't get ahold of my friend on her fucking cell phone because it isn't fucking turned on. I am hoping that … time-wise, six or seven-ish, she will turn on her phone because she is at supper or something. That would be good. I don't really know what the fuck else to do, I should leave a humorous message on her phone so that she at least chuckles when she finds out the pig-fucking quandry I've stuck myself into.

The depot is sparsely populated but full of movement. Not hordes, but steady dependable trickles. Trickles that are accompanied by anal-interrogative blasts of cold air.

There are many things one can think of at a time like this, like my brother for instance. As I began to think of XXXXXX, I looked outside and saw the sillouette profile that looked like his. Of course it wasn't. But how funny that the object of mental fixation affected so quickly and specifically just what observations I made about my surroundings. Our minds can be filled up, emptied, mixed. Whatever's in there at any given moment determines what part of the world we observe, and how we observe it. These observations are usually present in linguistic verbal form inside our heads, I think but this may be secondary to a more unconscious level of observation. Maybe we do observe everything, and our ladel of mental soup that's been poured in just determines what is linguisticized (converted into language).

Perhaps she has gone home for lunch. The phone booth in front of me is full, three people on the phone. This must be XXXXXX's time of phone calls. Let us pray that she is reaching for her fucking cell phone right this instant and turning it on, so that I can speak to her voice-to-voice in a few moments notice. Of course to actually do that I am going to have to unplug this laptop and lug my shit to that other wall.

It was comforting to read in that language-book-on-amazon(that-i-am-going-to-buy) that language does not lose its power through the use of curse words. Fucking Great! I will then not feel guilty for calling shit shit, fuck fuck, and ass ass. If only I knew French I would have a multitude of new ways to curse the church, too.

Jesus Fucking Christ, I am so taken aback by the amount of mental refuse that stays around in the sanitation depots of my skull. When I sit in XXXXXX and think and reason and ponder, these sloughs of human waste pop their stinky bubbles at the surface and cause me problems. But WHAT IF I LIVED IN XXXXXX AND HAD AN ACTIVE LIFE INTERACTING WITH OTHER PEOPLE, LEADING THINGS, CAUSING CHANGE, SIFTING SHIT? Would I then have these problems of history? Would I then be focused on the past? I AM FOCUSED ON THE PAST!

I AM FOCUSED ON THE PAST!

I AM FOCUSED ON THE PAST!

I AM FOCUSED ON THE PAST!

I AM FOCUSED ON THE PAST!

I AM FOCUSED ON THE PAST!

ALL THIS MURMURING ABOUT XXXXXX AND FAMILY AND CHRISTIANITY IS FROM THE PAST!

BUT ONE DOESN'T NEED TO LIVE IN THE PAST! ONE CAN LIVE IN THE PRESENT! MOVE TO THE FUCKING PRESENT, X_Hapless Pencilholder_X!

IF THIS TRIP HAS TAUGHT ME ONE THING, I THINK IT IS THAT THERE IS A LIMIT TO THE VALUE OF SITTING AROUND BY ONESSELF CONCENTRATING. PERHAPS IT’S A MARGINAL-UTILITY THING, I DON'T KNOW. THE NEXT THREE MONTHS WILL BE BEARABLE AND USEFUL, BUT I DO NOT THINK THAT I WILL REPEAT THIS SECLUDED LIFESTYLE FOR MUCH LONGER. THERE IS TOO MUCH IN MY HEAD THAT IS GOING TO ROT. ROT ROT ROT.

ROT

ROT

ROT

But, if I am not mistaken, moments of focusing on the past can be easily followed up with intense LIVING, a kind of LIVING that is enhanced by the newly-made-conscious past. Who am I if I cannot face who I am, and who am I if I have not been shaped by my past in ways I've yet to understand?

Is action-in-the-world worth the sacrifice in consciousness? If I am to play a truly invigorating ROLE on this platform, I must forget………………………………………………………. FORGET!

This music was the BEST possible thing I could have chosen for this evening. There are only seven minutes left. Would it be healthy to listen to it all again? Should I talk to that girl with the pink puffy jacket? Will XXXXXX come rescue me from this dungeon or will I need to change myself and become stronger and more daring first? Should I find the winter carnaval? Perhaps?

Aside from the wonderful feeling I have writing in this laptop like it's a real paper journal, I do kind of wish I had left it behind so that I would not have an expensive piece of equipment to worry about while wandering around XXXXXX knowing what kind of area I'm in. Really.

Should've confirmed.

I mean what happens if I never get ahold of her? That would kind of SUCK!

I hope that GOD is conspiring with the black man to have him hang up at the very moment when XXXXXX will be available on the phone. For th elove of God. At least I am, most definitely, in a moment-of-daily-transition right now, where there is a halfways-alright chance that XXXXXX will be doing something NEW and will think to have a quick peek at her cell phone… to see if X_Hapless Pencilholder_X called.

Hi XXXXXX,

This is X_Hapless Pencilholder_X calling again, it's about 6:30 Friday night now and I've got quite a lot of homework done here at the bus station and I've wandered around a little. But I'd still like to see you this evening, and so I'll keep calling every half hour or so to your cell phone and apartment to try and get ahold of you. I think my last email must have not gone through or something confirming that I was coming here now, I was having problems with my internet in XXXXXX. Anyway hope to see you soon.

Does this perchance make me seem helpless, to just wait here at the bus depot? Shouldn't I go somewhere? Maybe there's a good map somewhere. I will go look.