meditations in an emergency

...
My eyes are vague blue, like the sky, and change all the time; they are indiscriminate but fleeting, entirely specific and disloyal, so that no one trusts me. I am always looking away. Or at something after it has given me up. It makes me restless and that makes me unhappy, but I cannot keep them still. If only I had grey, green, black, brown, yellow eyes; I would stay home and do something. It's not that I am curious. On the contrary, I am bored but it's my duty to be attentive, I am needed by things as the sky must be above the earth. And lately, so great has their anxiety become, I can spare myself little sleep.
...

- Frank O'Hara: Meditations in An Emergency

need a refresher

b: i knew you were delusional when you started talking about avril lavigne

s: ugh i know, how embarrassing.

i just don't knoooow what to dooo with myself

giving up someone as a nemesis is far more difficult that giving them up as a lover, even in a schizophrenic way. (hardly any sane person ever accomplished anything unprecedented. i'm starting now, for the sake of my sanity.)

yet one easily becomes bored out of her skull with no equal/opposite motivation for havoc-wreaking, existing largely outside the creation/destruction necessity of competing alongside a worthy rival (partner). chaos ensues when meaning disintegrates, sleep wastes too much time with nothing to counter and wool-for-brains lies on the floor aimlessly, not bothering.

the story reads almost too pathetic at this point, when all perceived schemes unravel as incoherent navel-gazing insanity and will be promptly abandoned, finished unfinished. what is our protagonist to do when unsettling peace reigns in the land and the forces are not-to-be-quite avenged but exorcised nonetheless? got the tan and the bottle, can't quite seem to pick up the woods and irons just yet. a cat perhaps.

my, my. what a waste.

how sad, shapeless and formless, randomly misaligned.
what a yet obvious limp, with cowering downcast eyes.
one should never pity ruins of great cities for their timely destruction, yet how uselessly vindicated am i standing still looking upon one.

Oh Muse! send another, deluge me; the riverbed dries up and cracks in such famine.