The Iconoclast

Exacerbate

nobody@vox.com(William) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 01:27:26 -0600

So much to say but nothing is said.

I've been writing a lot on my personal notepads while I'm at work. Since all I can do is read and/or write for the 8 hours I'm on the phone there, I've tried to make productive use of the time. I've trained myself back to my old speed reading levels, so I'm finishing one to one-and-a-half books per shift while also doing the daily newspaper crossword and writing assorted thoughts on my pads. The books I've been reading have helped to spur some thoughts along in my head. Where I thought I'd hit a stagnant valley in my mind I find that I was only restraining myself like a yoke on oxen.

I've held a lot of misdirected rage for a long period of time. At present I can honestly say that I have never felt calmer or more at peace with who it is that I am beneath all exteriors and veneers. I have come to terms with myself and what I have become and the things that I have done to reach this point. Not necessarily proud of the ways of which I have shat upon my potential, but I am satisfied that I have done what I thought was correct at the time. "Do the best we can with what we have," John Paul Jones once said, referring to a naval battle. I can only adhere to that in my own situation, going forth with what I have now.

"It's a hard row to hoe," as my grandmother would say, being 28 (and starring down the barrel of 29) and single and working in a nothing job and finding yourself floundering in everything you do. "Where does one go from here," I ask myself daily. I once held such promise. I was headed somewhere. How did I get myself mired in this... what turn did I take into this rut?

The whys and what ifs are a pointless exercise, I know, but that does not prevent me from engaging in them in moments of quiet. IT is too easy to fall prey to that habit, wondering how things might have been. As it is, I am alive. I take that for what it is worth and move on.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Improptu

nobody@vox.com(William) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 23:01:01 -0600

Standing on the ground of a distant shore on a day far removed from now we shall meet again.
We will smile, awkwardly, as the moments since those last embraces melt away.
We stand before one another and together again.
We will be changed, yet the same.
You will be the steadfast friend, unwavering in your belief in and commitment to me.
You will be the earnest artist who sees the meanings painted betwixt the scripts you write and read.
You will be the eidetic eye who captures our imperfect moments perfectly.
I will be the persisting pillar and honest heart that belongs to you all.

The years will take their tolls upon us.
A million minuscule miseries will make us weep.
A thousand tiny victories will empower us.

Everwhen and everwhere we finally reunite there shall be no accounting of time.
There shall be only the soft knowing laughter and shared smirks of conspiracy amongst friends.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Failure's fool

nobody@vox.com(William) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 21:52:22 -0600

Nothing's changed much except the weather.

The job is... routine. Presently, I'm averaging reading a book a day while there. I've already re-read all of the books I have here and have started scouring the library for new selections. I was asked by the trainer who taught my class to assist in training the class that was hired after mine, and spent a week supervising them as they got acclimated to the business and various lines of service. Also, this past week I've been working on a focus group project and documenting discrepancies in service from partner companies. It's... not what I want to be doing for long, but as it stands I've already been noticed as someone who pays attention to details and is the go-to for those around me. As my supervisor put it to me, "It's hard for you not to stand out, isn't it?"

My private life may as well be dead. Friday night means having a few drinks at the bar with my friends Chris and Steve. Aside from that, I'm at home reading or watching television. There's been the odd occurrence of company, maybe twice in the past two months, but otherwise my time is spent solitarily.

The holidays are approaching and bringing with them everything I wish I could avoid. Simply going to keep my head down and my "bah, humbugs" to myself.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Bless you and keep you, daoine sidhe

nobody@vox.com(William) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 21:02:55 -0600

I'm not much given to flights of fancy when it comes to folklore, tending to view it with a grain of salt and interest in the story, not the origin. However, as last night was the year's end festival of fire (Samhain) on the traditional Irish calendar, it also marked the fourth move of the courts of the aos sí (people of the mounds, or, in other words, faeries). If one looks at the old calender, the court would have last moved May 1st (Beltane), which coincides with the beginning of a lot of a long string of odd, bad luck for myself. This was punctuated with my being run off the road early Halloween morning and spending several hours in the rain waiting for a tow truck.

Faeries are mischief makers and a lot of the things that have happened in the past six months do seem rather Puckish. Additionally, this morning as I rose and all day I have experienced a feeling of... change? Something in the air seems different.

Perhaps it's too much reading lately. Perhaps it's the distortion of time from daylight savings. But something genuinely feels different and I just cannot put a finger to it, save for old folklore. I laugh at the idea that the Fool and his Unseely court might have been having their sport of me, but I have heard stranger things. Seen stranger things.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Time's Arrow

nobody@vox.com(William) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 14:34:01 -0500

It is cold and so am I.

As Summer has given way to Autumn, so too has one phase of life given way to another. Three weeks ago I started a new job. Nothing glamorous, but it will keep a roof above my head and let me replinish the savings I lived off this Summer. There's the faint possibility of advancement, but at this time I'm simply glad to be doing something structured.

The redhead from this summer tired of me, ending things with little communication. We remain friends, though I am still a little irritated at her choices in handling the situation. So it goes.

I'm puzzled by memories that have been coming up lately. Triggered by smells, locations, songs. Perhaps it's the time of year or something more, but I've been horridly nostalgic and maudlin. It's not all bad, though. The memories are good and the introspection does no harm.

The only real thing troubling me at the moment is my weight. Over the course of my unemployment and the depression triggered by it, I relapsed into binge eating as a coping mechanism. While I am still far away from the size I used to be, I still see myself in that state and the scant few pounds I've gained in the past few months only exacerbates my negative self image.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Asylum

nobody@vox.com(William) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 04:37:16 -0500

Maybe someday when time has passed you will understand the things I do. I make little sense at times and I know it must be frustrating to endure. I can do little but offer a nod and the phrase, "time will tell." I can only be who I and what I am, and I know that you cannot see that sometimes. I simply must trust that the revelation will come to you once upon a tomorrow and that will soothe your opinion of me.

Earth and moon would have been moved for you. There's nothing I would not have done for you, accomplished in your name. Time has shown me to be a fool, a jerk, an ass. I can do little to change the past, only affecting the future.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

For a lack of words

nobody@vox.com(William) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 02:45:45 -0500

Colorblind

More reasons I love this man's lyircs.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Query

nobody@vox.com(William) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 02:24:07 -0500

Drank all night at the bar for $4.25. Talked to the bartendress about school, life, people, and everything inbetween. She's an utter sweetheart. Kept handing me beers whether I asked or not. I actually had to turn down a beer when I was leaving.

What is it that makes people open up to me? Trust me? Talk to me candidly about everything? I'm not complaining, I just wish I knew what it was. It's not something I push, at least consciously.

Talked to a friend tonight about my options as they stand. He offered a spare bedroom in Arkansas, should it come to that. It's closer than the other option I have, which is moving to Idaho to my mother's spare bedroom. Or perhaps D.C., to crash on Kristin's couch. all options I'd rather not explore. Pride is all I have left. Pride, that invisible bone that lets a man hold his head up. To quote Young MC, "[...] I don't have much, but it's mine. I worked for it. I paid for it. I earned it. I hate asking for help. I hate asking for anything.

We'll see what happens.

I miss Christina. I miss the redhead. I miss a lot of people right now. A quiet house and a lonely heart are not good for one's well being.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Quandry

nobody@vox.com(William) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 03:36:56 -0500

There are worse thing than dying alone. Living alone. Being alone. I suppose.

What do you have to say for yourself? I am proud of my life and the things that I have done. Proud of myself and the loner I've become.

Say Anything isn't music. It's a fuckin' autobiography. Seriously, there's never been anything else I've listened to that has so closely identified with my own feelings.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Salvation

nobody@vox.com(William) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 02:36:41 -0500

The only job option I have at the momoment is a position with AmeriCorp. Sadly, it is not a "salaried position". It has $10,000 living expenses and health care for the entire 12 month contract. Including Federal Health Care. That's more than $5,000 less than if I worked a minimum wage job full time. However, I'd be advocating literacy, which is something I care about a great deal.

I'm already in less than ideal situations. Next month is the last time I can a pay rent. After that I'm homeless. No other job has replied. Do I sacrifice a year of my life for literacy and children, or continue looking? At this time, I've settled on teaching as a fallback career, provided that whatever trash I write doesn't sustain me (Kristin, I'm looking at you, here).

Before I moved to LA, I never knew such hope and support as that came from my two roommates, Kristin and Wendell. Maybe it was some sort of illness. A malaise of sorts. Or maybe there's a reason I can't help but write about what I feel. Either way, I owe to them, I owe it to myself to finish this book. To finish something. Hunter Thompson once wrote:

"Tired and wiggy from no sleep or at least not enough. Living on pills, phone calls unmade, people unseen, pages unwritten, money unmade, pressure piling up all around to make some kind of breakthrough and get moving again. Get the gum off the rails, finish something, croak this awful habit of not ever getting to the end of anything."
- Hunter S. Thompson, Screwjack

I've been hiding behind alcohol. Behind Xanax. Behind anything. Afraid of my own shadow. Afraid of the world. There's no work. No place for a man who tells stories in a world that lives and sustains itself on the here an now. I am outmoded. I am outdated. I am a fossil in a world that cares not for it's past.

I weep for my place in this world, a shaman at the eclipse of our place in the tribe. No one wants to hear stories as oral handdown. They want the here and now. The fresh. The new. The now. I am a relic in my own time.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend