ksanzo

In case you ever wanted to know, this is my “lost in San...

Fri, 24 May 2013 10:45:33 -0700

In case you ever wanted to know, this is my “lost in San Francisco, sad, frustrated and on the verge of tears after being verbally abused by a homeless man and breaking my car door”, face.

Time to exercise and shower. Bay ETA 7-8pm. Bonin’ out yo

Fri, 24 May 2013 10:02:00 -0700

Time to exercise and shower.

Bay ETA 7-8pm.

Bonin’ out yo

Somewhere between Big Sur and San Simeon.

Fri, 24 May 2013 09:58:14 -0700

Somewhere between Big Sur and San Simeon.

Yesterday was a bit of a rough one. In the morning I got a call from a friend to say that a guy who...

Fri, 24 May 2013 08:34:12 -0700

Yesterday was a bit of a rough one. In the morning I got a call from a friend to say that a guy who my brother and I spent a lot of our childhood with had died from the mountain of medical problems he had been battling his whole life, and also Lefteris left to go back to London.

A friend who I hadn’t seen in a while was pretty gouged by the death of the mutual friend and he came over last night and we chatted and it made us both feel better.

I’m off to the bay today for a bday get together for a friend, then driving back down again to housesit on Saturday and Sunday.

I’m dealing with a lot of shit in my life, as I have mentioned before. Decisions are closing in and I have choices to make. My heart is conflicted and I have no idea if it will ever sort itself out.

At least I have a hoard of projects to keep me busy.

I’m jumping the shark here, but Lefti did leave some photos on my laptop, so, banzai I suppose.

Not the most flattering photo for my jawline, but the light is fucking sexy.

Yep, I’m happy to be going back to work, but goddamn if I don’t miss him. It would be nice to live like a normal couple just once.

Video

Fri, 24 May 2013 08:10:12 -0700

Photo

Thu, 23 May 2013 22:06:00 -0700

pingustolemysanity: imagine-your-fav-character: Imagine your favorite character barging into your...

Wed, 22 May 2013 10:22:42 -0700

pingustolemysanity:

imagine-your-fav-character:

Imagine your favorite character barging into your room this moment, grabbing your hand, and taking you with them into their world

Lets be honest though most of us would be dead within a week

Most of my favorite characters are from Tom Robbins novels, and are blissfully crazy people who take a lot of psychadelics, not unlike the friends I have in reality. So I think I’d be okay.

Nostalgia hits me like a pillowcase full of bricks, cracking my jaw open under the shifting skies;...

Wed, 22 May 2013 09:58:50 -0700

Nostalgia hits me like a pillowcase full of bricks, cracking my jaw open under the shifting skies; its sweet poison leaks into my blood and muddles my marrow.

London, it is time we meet again. I am getting myself a very early birthday gift. My spine sings for Bloomsbury and my heart longs for those rain slicked cobbled streets.

I long to immerse myself again in the soothing mind frame free from the possession of fear for the future, my career, money, and the trajectory of my life; such as I did for those three months spent in bliss in that rainy city that I made my own, so far from home.

I suppose fear and apprehension for the future are just phantoms we must live with, or view through a different lens. Today, I feel, despite being exceptionally sick, that I have a pinky nail of a foothold in the ascension to dispelling my ghosts of self doubt for my skills and abilities.

Like dealing with my eating disorder and my body dysmorphia, surfacing from below these muddy waters will take time, and doubtless be filled with misdirection, failure and struggle— but if I’m going to stick around and see life through to the end instead of throwing myself in front of a bus, I have to break the supple skinned barrier and find my freedom and solitude in the eye of the storm.

Off to book hotels for Hollywood. Lefteri leaves tomorrow and he has also fallen to the illness that I have. Time to savor the seconds we have left as they rush past us.

Shine on you crazy diamonds.

thats-slightly-raven: You sick bastard.

Wed, 22 May 2013 07:53:30 -0700

thats-slightly-raven:

You sick bastard.

robotbrothersid: scarvenrot: ayapus: just some bad feels...

Wed, 22 May 2013 07:12:43 -0700

robotbrothersid:

scarvenrot:

ayapus:

just some bad feels passing by

jesus fucking christ this is me every few days

me at like the mid point of my every day.

I did this once after I orgasmed. It was…an experience.

Levee Breaks

Tue, 21 May 2013 10:40:43 -0700

I semi-deliriously write about shit while my body is slowly dieing from some disease I picked up a few days ago. Herp derp.

I’m pretty fuckin ill right now. The English use of ill, not the American. Hearing loss from inner cranial pressure while blowing putrid yellow gunk out your nostrils as the back of your throat feels like its been works over by a cheese grater does not fall into the realm of being wickedly awesome, totally ill as we heathens prefer to use it.

But I’m not here to talk about the use of the word ill.
I’m here to attempt to manage the raging waters thrashing around inside me, the immense vortex where the highs and lows of my existence meet; I am attempting to express the point at which the spirals converge, the dynamically destructive interplay therein. To be brief, I’ve got a lot on my mind lately and I need to get it out of my system, not unlike the rotting mucus that coats my sinus.

I mention my ailing health as a warning that I will in all likelyhood, fall short of my normative eloquence, if my writing could be called that.

Lets get into it, stream of consciousness style;

I woke up last night and I heard the wild boars stamping and huffing and squealing outside my house, their hot breath practically streaming through my open window, filling my bedroom. Boars rooting in the garden of my soul. I was both terrified and elated, to hear them so close. It was a an experience as rare as it was brief, for someone who keeps the hours I do. My dream, from what little I recall, was my watching the heard, ten strong, roam like burgeoning behemoths across our mountainous landscape beneath the pale light of the moon.

What do the boars have to do with my tumultuous circumstances? Perhaps I’ll find out as I write.

I’m writing this because talking about my problems is difficult for me. Not the shame of it, or the wording of it, no. Talking about issues that rank in the heavy weigh class and rock the mental boxing ring are not issues which, at least for me, are easily approached, nor are they issues which the discussing parties can walk away from without feeling the relationship changed. It is difficult for me to look someone in the eye and ask them to listen to my problems without royally losing my shit in a fantastic display of water works and dissolving dignity.
Further, after my exposing my emotional guts to whichever poor soul has lent a willing ear, it is difficult for me to resume normal behavior, as often my problems are not solved, merely discussed, made aware. And then I feel like such a douche. Walking around, carrying these greasy innards of pain and problems, not knowing where to put them, cause they won’t fit back in my chest cavity, magnified by the discussion I’ve had with others. So I just kinda totter around like a tard, feeling awkward and naked and exposed, and such sensations normally don’t leave my person unless eclipsed by some momentary wonderment or atrocity, or till a substantial amount of time has elapsed and I haven’t seen said individual to the point where our discussion is buried beneath the strata of time.

So in a lot of ways, not talking about my problems is better. It’s easier. It’s safer. But it’s not healthier. It’s not, entirely anyhow, what I want. Even though I know things will usually be weird for a while afterwords, I crave the comfort of a friend, like a warm blanket on a winters night. My soul aches and I seek the salve of conversation. I need the release of expression, the cleansing of my system from all the buildup. The relief is as blissful as it is brief. The frothy headwaters of life don’t recede for long. I’m thrashing in the fray once more.

Or perhaps a mojito glass is a more accurate vessel for life. Life is muddled, a thick mix of lime, mint, sugar and rum; smashed and mixed with the blunt butt of a pestle. The universe runs together, it is not dissected into clean cut segments. The universe is a process that spans the dimensions of reality, a webwork indivisible and united, not a linear string of cause and effect.

[Brief aside: I think I am actively coughing up alveoli. ]

Yet will still must make decisions, and these decisions have consequences. I have been standing at a cross roads for some time now, as Hecate impatiently taps her foot, awaiting my departure from her sacred space to whatever future awaits me.

Haha, oh man I’m too sick to finish this right now. Whew. Doesn’t help that in my sick stupor I chowed down on food and probably shouldn’t have. Man do I feel like a dick getting sick since Lefteris is leaving to London on Thursday.

I really wish I could move back there. Or someplace new. I really want to move someplace where none of my friends have been before, not just because I feel put off by them as I mentioned earlier, but because I want to live someplace that is truly mine. I want to discover my home, make mistakes with it, fall in love with it, build a story with it. That’s hard to do when you’re moving someplace where people you know already live. It takes a bit of the passion and living out of the place. You’re moving someplace that has already been picked over and figured out. You’re moving into a round of sloppy seconds. That’s part of why I love London so much. London was mine, I made it mine.

I can’t think of anyplace in the USA that I’d want to move that has that same potential, but I need to move all the same. And what of Lefteri? The coming brick wall of his departure rains down questions like a flaming hale storm. Can we stay together with both of us moving into separate abodes? Can we afford that? If we can no longer afford to visit one another will our relationship survive? Is our relationship so sound? Should I even be in a relationship right now, despite my love for him? Is it possible to pull myself from this self paranoia and self sabatoging behavior and once again grasp the ledge of my sanity, my balanced self and even keeled existence where the minute will no longer knock me askew?

It’s funny, this behavior of mine. It’s the same with friends as it is with lovers or those I have deep feelings for. The less I think they care, the less I care, and the more natural and wonderful our interaction is. The more I care, the more rigid I become, and the more painful the interaction becomes, and the less awesome. Catch 22; how do you not care about the ones you love?

For a Libra, you’d think I would carry life with so much more balance. Alas, alas, alas. Balance is elusive, and the nectar I so crave and cannot find. I live my life in extremes. Balance is the momentary blink where reality is truly felt and life is peaceful. Then it’s gone, the pendulum swings on. Pendulum; reminds me of the giant pendulum clock in Evangelion. I need to rewatch that show.

The downward spiral is hard to climb out of. You feel yourself eminating a certain vibrational lowness and you know without fail that everyone around you feels that lowness. And you feel like you know that they know, but you’re not sure, and all you want to do is ask them for a hug, or from some support. But you can’t, the circumstances are wrong. You’re at lunch midday, and you just can’t. But you want them to ask you if you’re okay, but they know it’s not the right time either, so you both just sit there, stewing in the lowness that’s oozing from you, while you feel guilty about trailing your messy emotions all over the place, spoiling the fun and it just makes jumping in front of a car seem that much more enticing.

And all you want is to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, get a fresh start and try again because this day is so tarnished beyond saving that you just want to skip ahead to the next new slate, stop erasing and redrawing because the paper is tearing and smeared beyond repair.

I don’t really know where I was going with any of this except that I felt like that a lot these past few days. Life jamming that pestle down on my a great deal right now, though it is, in truth, my own hand that wields the instrument blending my muddy waters. But I guess life isn’t about living in crystal clear waters, its about finding the beauty in the swirling sediments. Or something like that.

I’m fairly certain, that I am going to do an illustration series to attempt to express my eating disorder. Hopefully it will help exercise the demon. Whenever I get done with the billion other projects I have waiting to accost me once Lefteris leaves.

I was going to go up to the Bay the day after Lefteri leaves for a party and to go apartment hunting, but someone needs me to housesit and I don’t know what to do. It will afford me a good amount of time to work, but I dunno.

Anyway, Imma bone out and make something of this shit storm of a day. If the pressure in my ears went away, I would be so very happy. I was supposed to indulge in some psychadelics with Lefteri and Kevin today or tomorrow, but if I’m feeling like shit on a stick, I doubt I’ll partake, and this makes me a bit disappoint.

Till later.

xxmisty: GUYS I HAVE SEEN HEAVEN AND IT IS THIS BLOG: http://pokemonxniccage.com/ Relevant to a...

Tue, 21 May 2013 07:32:52 -0700

xxmisty:

GUYS I HAVE SEEN HEAVEN AND IT IS THIS BLOG:

http://pokemonxniccage.com/

Relevant to a conversation I had yesterday with friends.

nothalfboyfriend: woah

Tue, 21 May 2013 07:31:57 -0700

nothalfboyfriend:

woah

REBLOG IF YOU WANT A 'FUCK, MARRY, GET DRUNK WITH' IN YOUR ASK.

Tue, 21 May 2013 07:31:42 -0700

luciidcatnap said: i also recommend listening to metal when lifting, it has been proven to...

Sat, 18 May 2013 10:22:35 -0700

luciidcatnap said: i also recommend listening to metal when lifting, it has been proven to increase the effectiveness of all exercises by 100% (i made that bit up)

This is fact. Listening to Mastodon and NIN always made my swim sessions far more intense.

Is Seven Psychopaths out on disc yet?It’s something I feel I need in my life, or at least...

Sat, 18 May 2013 10:08:47 -0700

Is Seven Psychopaths out on disc yet?

It’s something I feel I need in my life, or at least blessing my pupils and irradiating my brain with cinematic goodness, seasoned with fond memories of watching it with Lefteri at Curzon SOHO while drinking strawberry lime Kopparberg…or was it Rekorderling?

In other news, it is less than a week till Lefteri flies back to London and I’m already getting a premature case of the departure weepies.

kamikazenipple: kylobe: geromykyle: you’re welcome As an...

Sat, 18 May 2013 10:02:00 -0700

kamikazenipple:

kylobe:

geromykyle:

you’re welcome

As an American who lived in London for several years, I gotta contest 1 and 4.

There is nothing wrong with using the local vernacular of the place you are visiting, just don’t fucking say it like you’re expecting the locals to gush all over you and be instant bestest friends. That sort of anticipatory self awareness ruins just about anything. As a matter of fact several friends of mine, who are English, will regularly correct me when I fly back to visit and slip out of UK lingo.

Likewise I’ve had loads of people not know what I’m talking about when I use USA vernacular.

2 and 3? Fuck yes. I remember when I came back to CA to visit family after my first few months in London and my parents were floored that the whole of England did not grind to a standstill for teatime. I still have friends who romanticize the shit out of London and its always jarringly interesting to hear their ideas about what London must be like, since they’ve never visited. Some people also assume that since I’ve lived in London, I love Dr. Who, which I don’t, I’ve never seen it, nor do I want to, and the vast majority of my friends in the UK hate the show.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to move there, though, as long as you know what you’re in for.

I think this entire article could be easily replaced with a photo of the English flag paired with; “Chill out and don’t be a presumptuous asshole or an amped up dickweed.”

Photo

Sat, 18 May 2013 09:47:31 -0700

I am both dreading and amped for the jaunt down to SoCal. Amped cause: Amanda, Kevin, Natalie,...

Sat, 18 May 2013 09:39:18 -0700

I am both dreading and amped for the jaunt down to SoCal.

Amped cause: Amanda, Kevin, Natalie, swimming, sunshine, Primus, drinking without worrying about driving, free grapefruit probably.

Dreading cause: Money, getting into a swimsuit, getting into figure fitting clothes, packing, driving, my car, letting my problems out into the world in an unbecoming manner via alcohol fueled freedom.

Time to go clean my car. 8D And pack.

luciidcatnap said: resistance training is better than cardio - too much cardio and you’re burning...

Sat, 18 May 2013 07:46:00 -0700

luciidcatnap said: resistance training is better than cardio - too much cardio and you’re burning muscle as well and won’t get a good shape. weight lifting burns fat and makes shape, and it is pretty engaging too, cos you feel like a badass while doing it, imo

Fair enough. It will provide me a good means of targeting my squishy bits; inner things, hips, upper arm, abs etc. It’s been a while since I lifted weights. Time to steal the resistance weigh unit from my parents.

Weight bearing exercises also improve bone density, which is something I should be working on before I hit the magic age of 25.