Through

Through-

When the sun barked down it’s orders,
We just stood and tempered gaze,
The clouds covered up what the rain couldn’t see,
And the mountains dripped all their delay,

When nominal statues proclaim fallen wheat,
And the lightened fifth finger shards true,
It’s here that we stay, till another black day,
And follow our demons through and through,

The last bombs had fallen with wacky descent,
The peasants lay strewn and bleeding,
In this mess of a city, The beast is the beast,
And the beast of the beast is still feeding,

When the last king laid his thorny crown,
At a dying beggars feet,
Wealth was then a fallen word,
In rasping icy heat –
Of all things wrong and true, the truth broke through.

What if-

I'm constantly obsessed that I'm changing mentally from day to day, but looking over old posts- I really haven't much at all. I've got a lot snottier, and scatter brained, but a sort of inherent essence remains. For the last 2 years of this I've been writing to an anonymous reader with the strange fantasy that one day someone might understand the workings of my mind even I can't comprehend. I've been questioning futile concepts for so long now and I haven't got an answer for any of it. I thought philosophy would solve these problems, give me a glimpse of the big everything. Maybe the truth is that I'm just not ready for it. Maybe no one is.

I have two main personas in everyday life.
1. The thinker. The guy that strolls around daydreaming and listening to obscure music. He gets randomly down a lot of the time, and finds it difficult to interact with anyone for a long amount of time.

2. The teenager. He is usually seen with a bottle of something alcoholic in his hand, acccompanied with a cigarette. He drinks obscene amounts. He finds it easy to communicate with people in this state, and all previous philosophical questioning is put on hold. He wishes he could stay in this state forever, rather than waking up the next morning dull and stale again.

Occasionally these two personalities interlink. The drunken teenager will come out with something obscure such as "I am not the walrus" or "I was the trick my mother played on the world". This is usually in a large group of people and has absolutely no relevance to the conversation.

In effect, I've always had a sort of loose dependancy on alcohol. Drunken at a party is my happiest state of being, and that seems inherently depressing in itself. No inhibitions, and an enviroment where that's allowed.

My friend Matt Scott is leaving Southampton. Going back to his mum's, and while I know he'll be happier, I selfishly miss him already. No more random poetry, no more joint reckless behavior, no more Matt Scott. We had a blowout party for him on Saturday. Booze, distant friends, the lot. After being a teenager till 6 in the morning, I K.O'ed on the kitchen floor and vaugely remember Matt waking me up to tell me he was leaving. I must've just passed out again. How rude.

Oh - Roxie/Peaches and I have broken up. I did it, and it was absolutely the correct thing to do. I'm too dysfunctional right now, too broken in multiple points in the head. It wasn't fair on her. Then again, maybe it's just my belief that I'm dysfunctional that actually makes me dysfunctional as opposed to the other way around. I'm going to post some poetry next. It's the closest I'll get to getting published.

What if -

Redshift.

And in the deafening pleasure, I thought I heard someone say "If they walk away, we'll walk away"

If anyone's actually following this, I apologise for not posting for so long. I've had absolutely nothing to say, a tonne has happened; but the will to actually write it has disappeared. My body is trying to prove to me that it doesn't need sleep, but insisting that for however long I lie in the dark, I can't drift off. I assume this is me breaking into some new stage of Evolution. I'll have a chat to Darwin, I'm sure he'll sort it out. Roxie and I have been up and down, but when I think outwards, everything's been up and down. My life. My mentality. My general mood. I live in one extreme or the other. Utter depressing misery, or euphoric happiness. It's the only way to be. I say that now, since I'm moderately bombed out on the caffeine from the college cafeteria, but I know I'll hit rock bottom when it wears off.

Is this a way to be? A legal drug dependancy to function in society. I attribute all this to my ever more fucked-up brain chemistry. Must be something to do with it. Nothing particularly bizarre has happened. I've met new people per usual. I've lost new people per usual. I've stuck with the same people per usual. Same old shit. Nothing really changes, and the nature of how inconsistent things really are is starting to show through the foam of reality. I'm seeing more truths about the world recently, but I doubt they really are. Just ever-weirder thoughts about life, the universe and everything. I wonder why I'm here, and just what the hell I'm supposed to be doing. Who I am, and when I work that out, why. Why am I myself, and what's shaped me this way. But it seems futile to keep asking 'why'. Since the answers won't help, they won't life you up. Jean-Paul Satre was a great believer in living for the day, doing, not thinking. It's the only real way to be, and I'm going to test it out. The problem is this causes two extremes. Mad behavior, and seemingly impulsive acts of genius. Neither of which I've ever been great at. Well, stay chilled, the caffeine's really starting to kick in, and I'm going to go milk it's effects.

Helix.

Fallling into Friday

I more fell into today than anything else. After Peaches got picked up last night, I journeyed down to the doorstep for a smoke. At about 12, Mum came out to walk the dog, so I joined her in my dressing gown. The evening was still - but we talked more about trivium. That's all we ever really talk about now. Classic teenage or adult stuff. What the next day will include, what'll be for tea, am I going to Uni? - Do I want kids? None of the above I can really answer right now.

I'm pretty sure about uni, if I get the right A levels, and my heart's fairly set on Philosophy. If I can, I'd love to PHD in it. Dr. McKechnie. Has a ring to it. So I fell asleep listening to some bizarre radio play about anxiety and treating patients with it. My Bed's a few feet away from the computer, so I hook up the headphones, and lie on the other end of the bed, always terrified I'll fall asleep and strangle myself on the wire in the night. Not terrified - just aware. I'm not sure how afraid of death I am - but that's easy to say at 16. Too easy to say.

I woke up, the room a mess of CD's, underwear and other assorted junk, the room now ugly with the absence of light from the night. There's a certain mood my room phases into past about 10 in the evening. I switch the large lamp at the back on, and turn the main light off. The clutter suddenly becomes relaxing and passive. For years that's what I've always been doing, and usually alone. I can just play out the rest of the evening as I want. Chatting online, playing some pointless video game or finding some other way to keep me up, and wreck me for the next day.
I think I barked at Mum when she tried to wake me up this morning. When I eventually did get up, she was walking the dog. Remember, this is 7 in the morning. I must've really pissed her off. I don't know what I'm doing here, what I'm supposed to be doing. Who I'm supposed to be. I'm just another sentient - right? Another sentient with the same classic worries as the next. Or I'm traumatized by all the dope I've smoked.
When Peaches came over yesterday, we went out and met Matt near Little Hatts (The park) and hid in the woods. Matt got his pipe out, and him and Peaches got pretty messed up. I abstained. I'd felt more and more fractured and depressed the more the evening had gone on. I didn't want to blind myself with drugs. I didn't want to hide for once. Matt toddled off, so Peaches and I went back to lie in bed. I talked a lot about Angela, a friend who died a few years ago, how I still hadn't got over it. It seems weird now - weird that I didn't tell anyone, and only now am I coming to terms with it.

I knew her parents pretty well, and we used to chat about it every now and then after she disappeared. I doubt they'll ever really get over it. I already have, but I still see people in the street sometimes, still hear her voice on other people and consider that just for a second, for the smallest second, it might be her. It was never love, never attraction, just very very close friendship. I knew her inside out, back to front, and likewise. When she died, I became a hermit. Any contact I ever did have, I tried to be as obscure and deranged as possible. It's still a part of me - I still strive to have a different view just to rebel, or say something odd just to seem nuts. I don't have opinions, I just have quotes I've heard, ideas I like the taste of, words that nurse my ego for using them. I'm a selfish cunt.

It's ten past now. 40 minutes till the end of break, and until computing (2 hours of solid boredom) begins. I like the teacher though. Gareth. He's one of the most human and compassionate people I've ever met, but it isn't obvious. It's only when he's given a situation that he chooses to employ any qualities of compassion that he has, and he seems to have a tonne. I must've looked pretty shit one lesson, so he took me outside and I told him the truth when he asked. He was totally understanding. There was obvious a teacher-student gap, but I wish I'd known him as someone my age. He'd never touch dope. He'd never drink so much that he passed out. I always used to think he was boring, but there's more to him, much more to him than that.

It seems to me a lot recently that there are no arbiters or morality, God not included - but remember, I'm an atheist. There's no sudden clarity, there's only different points of view. When you realise you don't love someone, you don't realise it. You just change your mindset through something that has or hasn't happened. You did love them, solely because you thought and believed, no - KNEW that you did. It's not as if you break through the ice of the arctic and suddenly realise that it was false. There can be no false beliefs, no false love, no false knowledge. Not if you know, TRULY KNOW that it's true. If you're proved wrong and change your mind, sure - a different mindset, but for as long as you kept you opinions the way you did, and you knew it was how you felt, then you truly believed it at the time. Anyway, planes are passing overhead like audio poetry, and the clouds have glazed the sky. I'm bored of sitting here already, and you're probably bored of reading this, so I'm going to disappear.

Bonsoir for now,

Alex.

Temprement

It's just gone half eight, and I'm already starting to feel like marinated shit. Peaches seems so tempremental all the time. I was out smoking with Scott, when she appears, takes a dig at my shirt, what I'm saying, and just walks out with me with some heir of superiority. I'd criticise it - or at least, I was going to, until I realised it's more or less the way I treated Sam when I just got bored. I didn't do it humanely, nicely, I just stopped caring, and left her in a helplessly irreprable situation. She couldn't talk to me about it, because I'd just go off on one. I was a bastard - But I think I'd do it again. When people are lower than you, and you know you can control them, maybe that's just how you act by default.

I feel like the only nerd in the library right now. Everyone's pissed off to persue something more interesting. And that's when it hits me on the bus - all through my life I've been striving to be this calm mellow cool guy, this blazé guy that can sort any situation out, that gets on well with almost everyone. And suddenly I realise that the more I try to be him, the more alien it feels. Who is Alex? Alex is paranoid, Alex is ugly, Alex looks like a hippy, Alex has a voice like a 1920's toff pilot, Alex can't accomplish anything, Alex will die unhappy. Oh woe is me. And it seems even more pathetic to write about it here, rather than to just deal with it like the rest of the world. If she gets bored of me, I'll understand. Fuck - I've been bored of myself for 16 years. Why do I never criticise her. Why do I never mock or insult her, why do I never make her feel like shit. Maybe if I did; she'd show more respect. How can you not be respected, and yet loved. Hm - well yeah. I haven't got the energy to sort it out. Anything I do will probably be wrong. I've never been a romantic terrorist, and I never will be. Not now. Not ever. "You don't love me - so you should suffer!". Hey - it's not their fault. Just because you feel personally insulted doesn't make it a universal crime. That's the mistake that everyone makes. Hating those that break up with them. When you get that intimate, that close to someone, of course you're going to feel destroyed if you break up, but I wouldn't hold a grudge. It's not a compassionate choice, it's just who I am.

Just who I am.

Who am I?

Boredom

Boredom rotts reality.

QED

Hatch 'em, Match 'em, Dispatch 'em

Hm - well, just arrived back from two weeks break from college over Easter. I'm the in the library once again, upstairs this time. It's a really bizzare atmosphere. Loads of people, but they're all just silent and collapsed in on themselves and their work.

Anyhow - have I mentioned a place called Little Hatts? A field near where Rob and I used to go as kids, and still do to smoke and chat. Matt (old friend, - see in other posts), Rob and I found ourselves sitting on one of the benches there. A few metres away, across one of the barbed wire fences, and burley guy was setting up a shed (looked like a small stable). He beckoned me over, and asked if I could look after the field while he wasn't about. Hey - why not. He was driving off, when he stopped, leant out the window of his van, and offered us a load of dope. Needless to say, we took it. We all got extremely wasted, and the Easter holidays began. The next day was Rob's party. Rob's house is more like a zen temple to me - every sound is so acoustic but cushioned at the same time. Hard to describe. His Mum (an eccentric artist ((who's always scared the living shit out of me))) leaves her vibe around the place. Nevertheless, about 20 people turned up, and Peaches had already come with me. Eventually, the booze arrived in the form of spirits, and needless to say once again, I got slozzled. Peaches and I stumbled up to Rob's spare bedroom, and were teenagers once again.

Do I ever feel threatened by other guys? Sure - it's built in, isn't it? But never too threatened. If she particularly wanted to leave me, of course I'd let her. I wouldn't make her life hell. I wouldn't hate her for it. I'd just accept it and be extremely depressed about it for weeks after. One particular guy scares the shit out of me. For reasons I can't disclose online, it just makes me nervous how he acts. Then again, I talk to plenty of other women innocently, so it's most probably just the same thing. Just male paranoia.

Jesus, isn't there more to life than this? Life. What the fuck did life ever have to do with anything. I sit down to write these and suddenly realise I have nothing to write. Nothing any of you would want to read anyway. Nothing you'd be particularly interested in. I make out I'm some deranged philisopher/poet, and suddenly realise. I'm not. I'm a long haired teen with blue eyes and a problem with reality, like everyone else. "Oh, I'm so alone, no one truly understands me, blah blah blah". But isn't that what most of us are thinking at the moment - if not for the rest of our lives?

Hatch 'em, match 'em, dispatch 'em. That's the reality isn't it. Born - Lot's of sex - Death. The timescale of existence. Alas poor Yorick - this is Alex.

And this is Alex saying goodbye for now, it's warm, the sun's out, and I'm stuck in college.

Bonsoir.

Intellectuals

Intellectuals piss me off. I tried to be one, and then I suddenly saw how insane the whole thing was.

It's 20 past 2 in the morning, and I'm listening to a suprisingly brilliant play on Radio 4. A humanist professor is a stuck up intellectual prick with the rest of his friends, till he develops a heart condition. He drops is pen and paper for the more relaxing past time of maintaining his garden. He meets the neighbour over the fence, an average guy. They clash, but the guy's gentle words and calm approach brings our intellectual around. He finds himself a new person, and begins to reject his wife and intellectual friends. The climax comes when he invites Micheal (The average Joe) and his clever friends to his Birthday party. They floor Micheal, and ridicule him for not having any particular political views and what not. Our main character gets defensive.
The play was clever in the sense that it highlighted how stupid drinking champagne and talking about economical development to sound intelligent really is. Intelligence fits your own definition.

But I digress. Peaches woke up last night, and we got into her bed. We chatted for what seemed like hours. It's not just love, it's companionship. We've vowed to give up smoking for Thursday. It kills me to think that 10 (or less) years down the road she could be facing cancer or some respiratory related illness.

Oh and go here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ydrl79AbM70&search=snuff%20box

It'll change your life. I promise.

Alex.