Monday, 25th March 2013
 

Funny how memories can creep back to you and sadness can fit right in.
I've recently been travelling through all of my time: childhood family memories, old loves and lovers, passed musical exploits. I once wrote a lyric in my late teens 'Memories were always meant to fade' and I knew how true that was, but unfortunately some memories never fade. These are the most intense ones, the ones of pure happiness and complete sadness. These memories are always easily at hand and you have to choose if you will let them in or not as they are usually very interconnected.
Right now I am fine, I feel I am almost too fine, as if I can accept most of what is thrown my way. I remain a thousand year old child waiting for it's mother to tell him how he should lead his life. I sit and I wait. I allow things to happen and rarely ever now curse his fortune, as fortune really is made mainly by ourselves. But how can a person who never learnt how to act act correctly?
I reassure myself with the fact that no one knows, that we all live either in complete ignorance or in complete confusion. That certain people choose to act regardless of these positions and that some choose to not act for the same reasons.
I am a person. I think and feel almost constantly and if I ever feel myself getting drawn into a situation that stops me from being conscious then I immediately stop myself and hide away and remain alone until I can keep up with time.
All faces of my history and future haunt me. I am never in the present moment but only in the what have beens and the what could be's. Never does my present match these 2 images and so I am constantly in a dream state. I live between 2 worlds, one which other people consider reality and one which I consider just as real as the other. Nothing is really real and nobody can ever join you on your own quest for reality as it is a journey that will always be one made alone.
Everybody is alone and will always be alone. The only comfort I take is that I will live this life knowing this instead of fooling myself that it could possibly be any other way.

Wednesday, 6th March 2013

I see myself standing in a desert, I've been walking for thousands of years and yet I feel no closer to the goal (or even understanding what the goal is) than I did when I started. Occasionally signs appear that encourage me and seem to tell me that yes I am heading the right way, but too quickly the mirage disappears and I am once again staring at another sand dune next to a hundred others. I am tired, I am lost and yet I am immortal. I am obviously not the smartest being as I always seem to make the wrong choices or keep believing in the wrong things.
Part of me thinks that marrying myself to music was the worst decision I ever made because it locked me into a situation that should've been more flexible. If it weren't for music I could be living in India, or walking through the world anonymously as I have many times fantasied. I understand the argument that I could still do this, but stubborness kicks in and tells me that no, I cannot do anything until I have succeeded at my first aim. For if I cannot succeed at one thing than what chance do I have to succeed at another? No, This must be first!
In my teens I had strong deja vu, I had premonitions and a certain primitive psychic sense, but I managed to destroy those by cigarettes (I believe nicotine, or other drugs in tobacco inhibits psychic gifts), alcohol and general misuse of my body and mind. I also feel like I wasn't given much of a choice as to function as 'normal' in this society I felt I had to sacrifice many of my natural inclinations and reactions. My family generally gave the impression that to conform was the right thing to do, so as a child I tried my best to do that. I felt abnormal and so would teach myself to act as others did. It was probably in my 20's that I came to realise that this was more to do with the lack of confidence in my family to be who they really are than to conforming as a way to work under the radar to change things without being noticed. So that has long been my own personal goal, to work so below the radar that no one even knows that I am doing it. Unfortunately the idea is also so uncomfortably close to what we call delusion that I often doubt that I am actually doing anything at all. And when I look to see if anything has been acheived I am faced with yet another hundred sand dunes.
I have acheived little. I am doing something wrong. This I know. I don't think I've ever had a successful case, I am a dreadful detective, a poor psychologist, a lacking lyricist.
But still I march on, I have no other option. I don't believe this will be my last lifetime (oh, how I wish it were. I miss my wife) and so I must keep on until I hopefully figure it out. But really if anyone has any ideas about how to make all this stupidness seem a little more fun and enjoyable let me know.

"The view of the city and mountains from my sickbed seemed to me like a painted curtain with black holes in it..Disappointed, I thought, "Now I must return to the 'box system' again". For it seemed to me that beyond the horizon of the cosmos a three-dimensional world had been artificially built up, in which each person sat by himself  in a little box. And now I should have to convince myself all over again that this was important! Life and the whole world struck me as a prison..."