Coffee #27: Question mark? Semicolon; Zer0

( ? ) Question Mark:

I question everything and know nothing. I look in the mirror and see a stranger of unimportance and delusion.

Questions haunt me so much more beyond the simplistic -“what’s that?” or “google it?”- moments. When a definition provided clarity and answers completed the quest.

But words don’t mean anything, and words are just syllables and latin phrases derived and bastardized with blunt force trauma. Like a buffet, we can shop for words to define the undefinable, to label the unmentionable, to describe what is with empty words that mean absolutely nothing.

Is it a competition to collect the labels to define ourselves and others?

Is it asexual or demisexual? Is it heterosexual or homosexual or pansexual? Is it minority or person of color or the alphabet soup of checking twelve boxes on a college application form? Is it gender queer or transgendered or gender neutral?

Does it even matter when you are alone anyway? Does the starving individual worry about such trifles when trapped on a desert island, struggling to survive and maintain hope of rescue? At what point is it good to ask such questions? Is it just selfishness or spoiled indulgence to ponder and wonder instead of being grateful for breath and life and prosperity?

If there were any sense of clarity, perhaps I would ask these questions for the hope of enlightenment, to seek a deeper truth or a hidden meaning to it all. I don’t just want to know, I want to understand and with understanding gain some measure of peace. The rough sea of questions with no answers are an insufferable plague; couldn’t there be a final “aha!” moment to crown the months of struggle and analysis? To close the chapters of confusion with some measure of resolution?

Will I forever be tormented by these questions and uncertainties?

( ; )  Semicolon:

“How could I be sure, that you won’t walk away?
Angel of deception, let me live this way.”

~ How Can I Be Sure by Anomie Belle

Here I stand on the crumbling edges of the excavation
Peering into the depths of another conclusion
-Finally- a gasp from the back of my mind
At last, this morbid phase comes to a close
Just a few more inches, just a few more days
Just another adventure to cure this malaise
Let us finally close this chapter, petty one
Let us finally go our separate ways, lead on
Shutting the lid on this final viewing
We commend your past to the depths
This body isn’t yours to give and burn
But this memory is yours to do with what you will…

Time to pack, time to move, and time to find boxes and store items from each room. What can I live without? Everything…

My contract is ending, this period draws to a close and I am excited for the new opportunities available, the new doors that I can reach out and grasp, firmly, with both hands. I can achieve the goals burning in my soul, I can finally do what I’ve always wanted.

I can finally escape the madness! And what worse madness is there, than to see the insane and assume it a daily norm?

But I digress.

It’s never too late to start a new life. After staring into the mirror wondering “If this were my last day, would I want to do what I’ll do today?” I can finally respond with a solid resounding “YES”.

Raising a glass to the next step of the journey-

( 0 ) Zero:

Zero is often seen as a negative number. Nothing, without, and other negative connotations.

Mathematically, the number zero is neither positive nor negative -except for French mathematics which holds that zero is both positive and negative.

Zero isn’t nothing. Zero is both all and none -like a version of infinity.

So when I say that I am Zero, it is neither positive nor negative in its connotation. It simply “is”. It simply exists. I simply exist, without justifications or associations, without condemnations or hallucinations.

Just there.

Just alive and being, and thinking and existing.

I think therefore I am; if I think about the construct of nothing I still am. Existence isn’t determined by quantity but quality.

Zero is calculated by adding positive and negative numbers that cancel each other out in perfect balance and equality. Life in balance encapsulates the good and bad -nothing wrong with that.

Zero brings with it a zen construct of balance and possibility. Add or subtract, multiply and divide, all or none. Harmony and equality.

Neutrality at its finest…

In a society that emphasizes quantity and accumulation, zero is frightening and horrific. Zero balance = panic attacks. Zero tolerance = freak-the-fuck-out.

Yes, zero gets a bad rap.

But it doesn’t have to be negative. It can be positive. It can be neutral.

It can be what it is without explanation.

And, by extension, so can I.

(?) (;) (0)

So, what’s with the three symbols?

Nothing much, just punctuation.

Enunciation.

A declaration of independence.

I am Debating Cryosleep

In the perfect world, I would put all my possessions in storage, freeze my accounts, tell some family members to lock away my government issued identification, and finally be transported to the nearest cryosleep location to sleep off the shitty parts of my life.

Wouldn’t it be grand to wake up just as life was getting better?

For fear of turning this post into a bitch fest, I am contemplating the stretch of my life so far in 2017.

I am suffering from boredom -not intellectual boredom, or lack of Netflix- no, I speak of a lack of stimulating conversation. Talking with people. Being with people. Being in the company of others.

I think I put myself in jail…

And I can’t, for the life of me, find a way to break this cycle.

Go somewhere? Yes, but where, darling? There are no festivals or community events -and I’m not going to an AA meeting to meet people (the last remaining social event…).

Go where there are people? Refer to answer 1. There just isn’t that many people here… I need to move, don’t I?

The wanderlust has been stirring, and frankly, I never thought I could do so much time in one place again. I need to get going…

And yet, there is no one like me. I am dying for some intelligent, impractical, irreverent, and immersible conversation that isn’t about someone’s love life, or their daddy issues, or their complaints about…shit that they started themselves. PLEASE, IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

Cryosleep is looking better every day…

On a random note, I recently drove by an old childhood memory site – the religious camp where much of my early years were tainted wasted. It looked so small and unkempt. I wonder what those silly little people are up to now in their tiny stupid worlds…

Probably still fighting over apartments.

Ahhh, let the good times roll…

 

Pic source, Artist Kaek

Coffee #25: Cut it!

“Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it”
~“Cut It” by OT Genasis

Those strings be way too tight, you need to cut it
My throat -I’m hung- no hands,  you need to cut it
Apron strings, your puppet sings, need to cut it.

Oh, yeah… I don’t think I’ll visit my parents for long periods of time anymore.

Like ever.

You know when you have this hopes and expectations? And you hype them up in your head. But when you get there, it’s nothing like you expected or even wanted. And you regret the whole thing. But you hid that because you don’t want anyone to know. Because you are just tired of having the same battles over and over.

Continue reading Coffee #25: Cut it!

Coffee 24: Looking back…

Prompt: Memories

When I was at a university notorious for its rigor and prestige, I felt the weight of failure crushing the life out of me. I couldn’t seem to do well on exams, I couldn’t understand the classes no matter how many nights I stayed up late, reading and rereading the materials every day. The gray skies melded into a gray world with white walls, chalkboards, and lecture halls one after the other.

Continue reading Coffee 24: Looking back…

Coffee #23 – What the F**k am I doing?

“Never permit a dichotomy to rule your life, a dichotomy in which you hate what you do so you can have pleasure in your spare time. Look for a situation in which your work will give you as much happiness as your spare time.” ~ Pablo Picasso

Happiness –if I don’t feel it, I’m doing something wrong.

I can mark, very specifically, the moment that happiness began to drain away.

I can’t even draw anymore, all my creative outlets are practically dried up. I can’t seem to make music, or write stories, or even draw. The only thing left are words and poetry, anger and rage.

Not exactly a recipe for happiness.

Continue reading Coffee #23 – What the F**k am I doing?

Coffee 22: Toilet basket Scene 3

Freaken Weekend

“So, how was your weekend?”

…fuck me. This question? Again? 

“It was a weekend,” I replied, burying my face into my laptop, hoping people would get a hint.

“Okayyyy described it in one word.”

You’ve GOT to be shitting me. If my thoughts could kill, I’d’ve stabbed myself in the eye.

Continue reading Coffee 22: Toilet basket Scene 3

Coffee 21: I have not truly lived until now

For so long, days and nights have just been marking time on a clock. Scratching marks on the wall, like a prisoner awaiting release despite the fact that the sentence is life.

Waking up to the sun, the moon, the stars -the half-hearted belief that I would awake when I closed my eyes and the half-empty doubt that I would not. Trying to scrape up the need to care about that -what if I die tonight? What if I don’t wake up? Does it even matter?


The sun was hot, beating down on the almost parched land. I slipped into the shadow of a tree, awaiting the signal. I wasn’t alone. We were all waiting.

Continue reading Coffee 21: I have not truly lived until now

Coffee #20: Vacation… a Foreign Creature

Right. Just lie back and relax.

RELAAAAAAAX.

REL- Okay, I can’t do this, where’s my work email?

Awful! Literally can’t relax…4 days later. I’m taking some hard earned time away to recharge after almost two years since my last big vacation (longer than a 3 day weekend). And day 1-2 was travel. Day 3 was me being tense as fuck. And here I am in day 4, finally getting used to ignoring work stuff and taking time out for me.

Now, I just have to wrangle the hypercritical and “just chill” voices in my head. And all the other inner dialogue voices.

Continue reading Coffee #20: Vacation… a Foreign Creature

Coffee #19: A Series of Annoucements

Under the influence of my re-entry into all things beat, bass, rhyme, and rhythm, this post is written in majority Flow-etry.

You’re welcome.

Went back to Church

So I didn’t plan out my day,
Had the car and Mom.
Meeting my Bro and our friends, out of the way.
But, hey, haven’t seen them in a while, so it’s worth it.

I pull up at the church, walking in on autopilot
Said hi to some folks, who stared at my jeans
And my shorter hair, I  almost got violent
When some dick asked if I’d be getting a husband anytime soon.

Continue reading Coffee #19: A Series of Annoucements

Coffee #18: I’m ME on the Weekends (and Vacation Days)

Sat on this for two days now. Welcome to a day in the life of Colton.

In this day of my life, I actually get a (ahem) “cafe mocha” *snotty french accent.

Coffee, food and books- the holy trinity!

I walk into Starbucks an hour ahead of my meeting-

Wait, wait, back up.

Mom drops me off on the corner… -wait! Wait!

I drive like a maniac at 5:45am to make it back home.

Better.

The day begins when I jack-knife out of bed at my parent’s house at 5am and realize I need to drive 3 hrs to get home ASAP. I’m supposed to meet up with my friend -whom I haven’t seen in a year- and grab a quick coffee and gab before she goes back to her home 4-5 hrs away.

Continue reading Coffee #18: I’m ME on the Weekends (and Vacation Days)