Sunday, March 9, 2014

Notes from my 24th trip

This whole thing with Flora could turn out to be really embarrassing for me.

Flora may have burned herself a bit in trying to guide me this time.

It's funny, when I think about it now, how it was so important to me growing up on "being real." 

Actually when you stop to think about it, the phrase, "Keep it real" is pretty profound.

Sometimes I feel like the gates of hell become thinner + thinner as time goes on.

If people were hoping for a quiet and friendly church service, they shouldn't have invited me.

I wonder if Flora is out searching for a truth when she goes out. I wonder if that's why she does it all in the first place. She's a lot like me in that sense. We are both truth seekers. It's just that...I no longer want to do it. I'm not out here by choice. I'm out here because I can't find my way back home.

Hopefully, one day I'll be able to sit down w/ my parents over a cup of tea and we will just laugh, at what a pain in the ass I am to them right now.

There comes a point in everyone's life where they just want shit to make sense again.

                       I think I am starting to see that I am a person very afraid of being left behind.

I went to a panel about blogging and they said a good way to increase traffic was to write about other writers or comment on their blog. But fuckkkkk, I am just so goddamn lazy.

Marcella, always remember that I will never forge that you were here for me, when I needed someone. I owe you one, remember that.

There's a love there too, you know? It's just different, that's all.

Contrary to what most people think about me, I most certainly do not have my shit together. I do not know what the fuck I am doing w/ my life.

You gotta hate the heroes too, at least for some part of the story.

Going thru old pieces of writing is like going thru old pieces of yourself.

I wonder how I am going to write Flora out of the pit I'm about to put her in.

I keep forgetting that at the end of the story, the fox and the prince don't end up together. But I'm a writer. I should be able to rewrite stories, right?

If we slept together Marcella, that would be too cliché. 
We're more original than that, aren't we?

Bukowski was very correct in saying that "Barfly" was a good movie. It wasn't great, but it was solid. And that's enough.

Flora still has a lot to learn. Principally how to harness that fucking power of hers.

Next time I see someone w/ a $60 shoulder bag, I'm going to think, "That's the last time I'll see that in public." 

Flora, you turned home into a place I am now afraid to go.
That's not right, Flora...that's not fair.

Sometimes I wonder if being this transparent is a bad thing. Like imagine if I was this super cryptic lawyer in the future. You could be like, did you know this dude used to be like this: !

We are held by divine waters.

Marcella, George and Michael. You are the three I've chosen to help me through this chapter. Pay attention, cuz I'm about to get schooled.

I actually don't mind the crying, I am purging sorrow. At least I know what it is. It's those quiet moments in between that I'm scared of. The not knowing what to expect.

Floyd Mayweather Jr. is a genius in his own respects. He's just not the best fighter that ever lived. Not by a long fucking shot.

When you're sad, you want that other person to share in your sorrow. But when they don't, when they still manage to be happy, that is nothing to be bitter about.

What I would like to think what this is all about is Flora teaching me how to nourish myself.

As a writer, I am essentially cutting myself open, because I'm curious to know what is inside.

It's a strange place, isn't it Flora? In between freedom and discipline. Passion and duty.

Sometimes I feel like this kid, who has just been lucky enough, to be captured by the right things to tame him.

I just saw what Flora would look like in 60 years. 

I'm in love w/ that woman too. 

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