Upon My Return

(OLD blog post)

May 16, 2009 - Saturday ~4:17pm

Currently listening:
The Sun And The Moon Complete [2 CD]
By The Bravery

Current mood: trepidation
Category: Life


Fuck, it's weird being back home. I'm alone in my room now for the first time. Lala was nice enough to pick me up and keep me company. Now I'm walking around my room, unsure what to do with myself. And I noticed my hands were even a little shaky. Thought I should just sit down and write it out. Even though my computer is now being weird and printing the letters a LOT slower than I'm typing. Which is a new feature and really Annoying. Fuck it, I'm still typing fast, if there's typos, so e it.

But yeah, I feel a little...unsettled at the moment. A little ...out of place. My room is my room but it feels a little different. Like I noticed it's naked for the first time. And this transition, this transition is a hard one, I think maybe harder than going back home for the first time in two years. I think that's what's got me a little shaky. It's a hard transition, like I have to shed a whole shell of myself to fit back into this life. This Way of Living.

At first it doesn't feel "Right," like I shouldn't be doing this, like being here is not good for me, but it is. But that shell I speak of, what is it? It's more than a layer of skin, it's a whole frame of being....that comes.....that comes with being in America? That comes with being back "Home" in that environment and That culture?? That comes with having to ReFit myself back into that life??? Yeah. Yeah, that's it. I did, I re-shaped myself to fit in again, I had to do that, at least to some degree.

There were so many times that I felt AWKWARD when I first got there, like I didn't know what to do or how to "act natural." Like who I was in that context the last time I was in that context....had so little relation to whom I had become. I had to Re-form my "American self," for lack of a better identifier. Just to exist in that environment and breathe without thinking about it. And now, after hosting that or being hosted IN that shell, I have to do away with it again, just like that, and be...well, what seems like "Normal" to me. Funny huh?

In the end I guess, when this mission is complete and I do Return "for good," I guess the ultimate goal, and in fact, the inevitable goal, is that I will have to marry those two worlds/selves together within me. I will have to reconcile the differences and merge them both. That's only logical. I can't possible DISCARD what 5 (?) years has done to me here. There's no changing how I've been changed. But I have. Inexorably. I see it in the way I see things back home, so many things that I never even questioned, now seem...ridiculous.

It scares me, though I suppress it now cuz I'm only there for a few days so there's no sense in...REbuking this and that travesty of sense around me, but it scares me cuz...I see so many (more) things that I won't be able to be A PART of, that I will not willingly subscribe to because I CAN'T Just Accept it! And that scares me a little because....what if it's TOO much? What if I can't "deal" with American/Western life anymore!? Right now, I cannot say I have any desire to live out in the woods on my own or feel forced by conviction to leave that country AGAIN but......"for good."

None of this is really new for me though, these thoughts and perceptions concerning the world around me, the SCALE OF IT is what is changing. As I was writing this a song I wrote a long time ago came to mind. The first half of the lyrics read...

"I have a problem with people who say too many meaningless things in a row
And I have a problem with people who pray to a God that they don't really know
And I have a problem with how the world works and how we're living our lives
And I have a problem with all of the jerks that are armed with fists guns and knives

I have a say in the part that I play And I'm not gonna help anymore
I will not be a follower, a number, a victim, a numb little whore...

So COUNT--ME--OUT
I won't be a part of this
COUNT--ME--OUT
I don't need a Therapist
COUNT--ME--OUT
Most of you don't even try...

I'm--the One--Who Wants--to be--ALIVE!"


...I guess that about sums it up :-\

Oranges

I keep looking at the oranges
sitting on my counter
The ones bought with the apples that are long gone
The ones bought with such good intentions
They are bigger than my fists. They are soft balls
full of juice and brightness
But I cannot bring myself
to their appetizing destruction
Not because I think they will be destroyed
But because of the ample time it would take me
to slide my fingers under their skin
and peel back and pull off
That time seems more precious to me
in my endeavor to crawl under
the world's thick, raw hide
(as I expose the meat underneath)
than it does for their purposeful consumption

Either my First or my most recent parable. I'm not sure.

(this is what I envisioned! This is the potential!)

They see him everyday. He conveniently walks into their convenience store. He is always happy. But it is more than happy. He is emitting joy, almost as though joy were a pollen and he were a giant flower.

After he leaves, the joy lingers in the store, the pollen drifts about, bouncing off of and alighting on whatever it will. The people who notice him notice him. Often they notice him and smile. Sometimes they notice him and feel as disparate from whatever he is as 7 is to 11. Nevertheless, he is not forgotten quickly. Every now and then words and smiles are exchanged after the appearance of his departure. He is funny. He is silly. He makes them laugh. If, one day, he never came back, they would miss him, give him a nickname (if they hadn't already) and talk about what he used to do. They might smile and laugh all over again. There is something different about him, but they don’t know what. They have never asked, some have never thought about it. They are only workers. They have a job to do, a job they do well and one that does not seem to allow them to stop and ask such questions of people they don’t “know.” Even if they really want to. Even if they really want to....reach out.

When he leaves, people see him on the street: the same people and different people every time. Some of them notice him, some of them don’t. Of the ones who are always there, more and more see him over time. Sometimes a couple of them watch him walking by, on his way, smiling that smile he smiles, and they feel or just flat out THINK, “He knows something I don’t know.” And they are right. But it doesn't have to be that way.

Would You Like to Have a Ball?

It seems as though you are waiting for a personal invitation to the greatest party on Earth, where all the answers you've been looking for dance about unmasked. But the party has been going on for ages, and that invitation you are waiting for already came through your door. It came to you in the form of your birth. And yet, the funny thing is, it keeps coming as well. Because whoever sent it knows you didn’t GET IT the first time. It is like a check you haven’t cashed from the most patient, understanding and generous people on earth. They really want you to cash it for a ton of change. They really want you to have all it has to offer. They want you to take that change, take the invitation and join the masquerade in which all the masks are carefully painted and see-through. In which all the dances are spontaneous and free, yet seem perfectly choreographed. And yet you continue to wait for something you have an abundance of lying all over the floor, as though you were sitting on your hands, covering your eyes and plugging your ears all at the same time. While asking over and over: "What am I to do?"

A Few Foul Words on my NEW Blog

I am about to rock your fucking world.

No joke :). Be prepared to think. Be prepared to FEEL. Be prepared to write something too. You might wanna dust off your ENTER key because you probably haven’t used it in a while since everything you write these days is no more one or two lines! ;-P

This is a challenge! To anyone reading this! Show me there’s more to you on the internet than one liners and telling us what your status quo is. Fuck the status. To hell with the quo. Let’s TALK. Let’s talk as though it were another word for COMMUNICATE and not just another word for Noise.

And no, we don’t have to talk IN FRONT of everybody you or I know! Step over here, it’s not an office, it’s more like a gaping hole in the side of 40 storey building. The view is wondrous, a steady stream of inspiration is on the wind. Yeah there might be some hot air every now and then, but the vertigo will always keep you on your toes! And I promise you, most the people you barely know are too scared of such HEIGHTS to partake. Basically they aren't cool enough or literate enough to come over and see what we’re all talking about. For real! I SPEAK FROM EXPERIENCE! These days if you write ANYTHING longer than their two minute attention span….they will either Cry or forget that they even started reading it as soon as the next distraction pops up on the screen! It's like an all natural firewall! :)

In other words, if you have the mind to read then your thoughts are safe with me. You will be respected for your honesty and openness, I will ensure that. So, if you click like on a post that made you laugh that just happens to be about masturbation, I won’t tell, promise. ;)

I know you got time. I know you got time. Unless you’re married with kids, you are NOT so socially engaged that you don’t spend a couple hours on the internet or in front of the tv every week, sorta somewhat mindlessly. I’m not askin for an hour, I’m just askin for 15 or twenty minutes. 20 minutes to support a reasonably entertaining poet! That’s enough to READ somethin ENGAGING and new! Choose somethin better. Do somethin more meaningful with a little bit of your time. Let’s get to know each other. And if we already know each other, let’s pick up where we last left off! Cuz there is No End to that process until we’re dead.

Til then, Let’s get to know OURSELVES. Writing—any kind of self-expression is as much a process of self-discovery as it is process of creation. I guarantee if you get on this boat with me (again!), and start bouncin off of me, you will ask yourself questions, you will laugh, you will think new thoughts and you will learn things. NOT Just About ME. Fuck ME! Who the fuck am I? You will learn about life and yourselves. I promise this. I don’t know if you understand why I can promise this with such certainty….but I can.

I’m fucking BACK and it feels amazing! I have a mental erection the likes of the Washington Monument! I don’t know where it came from, but….I know where it came from. And it’s here and I’m jumping on it like a bull on parade! It’s been weeks now and it hasn’t even come close to going away. Much to the chagrin of the rest of my life. Fuck it, this is what I’m here to do. This is the single most important calling unto my being: to put words together that make sense to me so that you might see more sense in your self. Try not to hold that ambition against me, because, frankly, I won’t let you.

About the Cursing. I’m sorry. I can’t censor myself. I need the language. I need every frickin word that is at my disposal. I do think of you, my Mormon friends, my Christian friends and so on. If those words bother you that much that you can’t partake, then I’m sorry. I do understand and it does make me sad, but I can’t change that. (FOR NOW! I have a solution of sorts in the future though, be patient, you will see!) Sometimes there will be a lot, sometimes there will be none, often there will be a little. And I can’t put a disclaimer at the beginning of every piece cuz that would just be…you’re smart enough, you get it. So you may have to make a choice—all or nothin? :-\—before treading in these splendidly poopy waters. The choice is yours, I would just ask you not to carve that choice in stone because you may be given a good reason to change your mind. For the better that is, I hope.

Jump on board folks. I strongly suggest it. CONSUME MORE ART. Please. And yes, if you know me, why not take mine as an Appetizer! It is surely good enough for that! And I’m not selling you anything! Consider me the high quality breadsticks and tangy tossed salad served up as soon as you sit down! I’m giving my art away for free, and it would be a dream come true to see each piece find its way into one person’s heart at least. One person is ENOUGH for me.

If this seems like a bandwagon, then it is a BIG ASS BANDwagon featuring Apocalyptica, Smashing Pumpkins, Flight of the Concords and Kid Cudi playing every song they’ve ever written! B-sides too. If that doesn’t sound like coolest bandwagon EVER then….why the fuck are you still reading this??! Really! I hear there’s a Grey’s Anatomy marathon on and some gay guy is about to kiss a girl. "Oooooooh!" It’s going to be RIVETING. Practically Shakespearean I’m told. I know I can’t imagine ANYTHING better. You should go watch it. And get away from me! :-P

;-)

Love you guys! Let me know what you think when you hear somethin worth speakin up about.

PEACE.

http://kjink.blogspot.com/

Goddess of the Sand

11-25-06

There was a goddess in the sand
There was an honest open hand
There was the feeling that this being
of pure light could understand
There were stars
shooting through my sight
and kisses stolen in the night...

but I fear is it over
Now I fear it is over

There was an angel in the day
There was a pain she took away
There was a puddle of thick mud
which she touched and became clay
There was a fire in the heart
that molded nothing into art...

but I fear it is over
Oh how I fear it is over

There was a moon upon the rise
There was a gloom washed from the eyes
There was amazement in the pace
with which new Love perfumed the skies
There was the sating taste of-of
the most impassioned form of Love...

though I fear it is over
How I fear it is over

There was a castle made of sand
There was a wish made on dry land
There was a hope that human nature
was a force we would withstand
There was a capricious fleeting shore
that gave and gave and gave no more

for I feel it is over
Oh now I know it is over

The Tale of the New Toy

The Tale of the New Toy

&

A Man on the Outside

8-23 - 25-99

So this is where it all begins
A chapter starts to form
Relinquished of all prior sins
there's a chance to be reborn

Old faces will be faced anew
without judgments to uphold
New faces will soon come in view
and form a fitting mold

Life will begin to quickly flourish
making spring seem somewhat subtle
Revealing unseen pieces to nourish
like a raindrop to a puddle

But in time the dust will settle
All will fall into its everyday pace
Our paths will become carved in metal
as our footsteps fall in the same exact place

The Great Change, the New Beginning
will be assimilated by the past
The omnibus wheel will continue spinning
and regular repetition will return at last

I say this as I sit and watch
the rape take place; from new to old
Every single step is another notch
Welcome to the Fold

Because I'm able to see this
I can step outside the race
Become a first hand witness
and see leaders lead and followers chase

This also gives me power
and this power is a tool
A tool I will use to devour
Monotony's tyrannous rule

And though I may appear humble
It's only to conceal my plan
My plan to make redundancy crumble
with this plain apple in my hand

This perfect apple I will leave sitting
on this bench when I depart
And just like that the breakdown, the splitting,
the deconstruction will then start

For someone will eventually come this way
treading the ditch he dug with his feet
and possibly his eyes may stray
and fall on this fruit, that looks so sweet

And seeing a beautiful bit of nature
in this concrete coated creation
may spark a thought in this mindless creature
Breaking the chains of automation

Then the person will break away, from his self-served line
and make his way over, to the symbolic innocence
That simple action, will be the greatest sign
for it will mark the beginning, of a battle fought in silence

Every obstacle has its weakness
Through every crack will grow a weed
Its very simplicity is its genius
Like the power hidden, in a simple seed