the gmail chat light gives me away and I must remember to click invisible again. Not that I don’t want to chat with N, I like N’s p-o-v on life, but I’m a shell at this hour and doubt I’ll do any good. Somewhere in the middle:
2:29 AM Moi: so how’s your relationship of convenience going.
2:30 AMN: nice, that phrase has a nice sting to it.
2:31 AMMoi: how I remember you describing it.
N: you’re the one with a drawbridge to let down as necessary. don’t talk to me about convenience :p
2:33 AMMoi: …true.
N: i’m still waiting for karren mok to pick me up in mcdonalds:http://www.youtube.com/watch#!v=fQVgroU9res&feature=relatedMoi: like the little smile on his face when she grabs his coat. is what we’d really do even if no camera there.
I can’t sleep and for once I’m hating theobromine–it will kill your dog for fuckssake–don’t eat Vivani dark chocolate if you plan on sleeping any old time in next 12 hours. (I am a fan of the power nap). I want the music to this youtube. Burial. Trippy tripping Japanese. I once dated a Japanese guy who called me Maku–the Japanese name for McDonalds because my last name starts with a Mc. My brain trickles and I’m in a nightmare called Vivani dark with lemon. They add a U onto anything they don’t have a translation for. Surfu, trinku, Maku. In a cabin in a jungle I didn’t sleep for 14 days and I knew it was the chocolate but I couldn’t help myself. I had a local supplier hooking up the good stuff like a true drug lord. But the jungle is full of those. N, in Nippon, on another clock entirely. He’s dating a girl because he wants to be more grounded. nothing serious, just something to encourage me to clean up my apartment more often and not be such a bum. I’d ask the how could you’s, why for’s. But I already know. Some things aren’t meant to be full on full on. I get it. It’s always been highly apparent. It’s either on or it’s not.The Book of Samurai imploring one to understand the basic fundamental of all living things: that they’re either in a state of incline or a state of decline and it’s up to the Samurai to figure out if things are trending up, procreating, or trending down, dying off. Of course I relate this to my own situation in every aspect of life; current love life = perpetual (infinite?) state of incline, past relationships = nailing the moments they switched into states of decline, usually always external factors or specific moments where we could’ve grown closer, would’ve made a leap of faith, but for whatever reason each peddled quickly to our sides; the shallows. So coulda, woulda, shoulda, boom shaka lak and the state of decline steps in. Flowers rotting in a slo-mo art flick, cells degenerating in the body…after 25 years of age the number of newly formed cells is less than the number of cells that die.
Great and Wonderful. So I’m 28, in a state of decline, the pendulum already swinging back into the perfect unknown of ashes and dust. If I do what the Samurai are taught to do then I dance with the losing battle and the loss is transformed. Cells may become degenerate but spirit soars higher as the blows rain down. What doesn’t kill you. The truth shall set you free. Those cliches are true. What does N want from the convenience store? To be grounded. State of incline, I’d say. I keep telling him he owes the world more than he’s giving, that he’s in so much love with the world–apparent in his photography and writing, his ability to observe. He says he’s comfortable doing his corporate job, that it’s easy and rewarding for him as compared to the agony of trying to write or create, that he hated every second he sat down to NaNo Wrimo his little November heart out. But the heart is never small, as my roomie tells me, and I want to convince N of this. I defend my Diego/Frida drawbridge, say that I’m in a state of incline because I respect the drawbridge, because my paramour needs the drawbridge as much as moi. Adi Da says your flight will be your own. Word to your mother. ∴ the drawbridge necessary. Maybe my drawbridge is N’s convenience store, and both are in states of incline. So N needs another’s help to feng shui his apartment, to become more grounded. Maybe N’s convenience is really his drawbridge to relating, to being, to loving. Maybe it’s the best thing that’s happened to him since sliced daikon :p
I ciao N, then grab a bundle binder clipped, crawl to bed. Listening to the birds beginning their morning chirp, their incline song. Theobromine’s out, Burial’s in.