by B.J. Delas Armas on 5/23/2005 09:20:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

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Un-wind

This is a post that will consist of my stream of consciousness. . .I don't want to take the time to edit and think. . .I just want to lay it out there. . .Mos Def style or as Wah would say Mazz Deff, idiot. . .but shoot. . .

Let me shoot it off, or rather begin my shoot-off -----> PHEWWWWWM ! ! !

Another cyclical day. Routines routines routines. Circles, spirals, but no arrows or lines.

Nothing's been changing --- I can see it in my shoddy ass weekends that consist of sleeping on the bed for about 85% of the day and watching tv and eating the 15%, the remaining 15%. Actually perhaps that would be 85% of being on the bed and a combo of sleeping, jerking around on the computer or watching tv. Whatever.

But yeah, all that happens every damn weekend --- I always know I am just a drive away from doing something, but then I always hope that I can do something productive or maybe even have a thought session --- yess. . .a thought session while I'm at home feeling disgusting (perhaps not showering for a few days has something to do with that). But that doesn't even really happen, and I always feel a bit fatter and dumber come Monday morning. Ugh, fuck Mondays.

Shoot, but let me tell you where I keep going in my head on these boring ass weekends --- I'm taken back to my kindergarten or my days when Camille was about 1.

My dad would taken Cheryl, Camille, and I to Griffith Park to listen to a bunch of Disney songs on an orange tape, and play on the playground. Nothing too special about the playground, except ala the Ghostbusters (and firemen today) I would love to slide. . .down. . .the. . .pole (wow that sounds terrible), but you know. . .that pole that just helps support some bridge. Whatever, it was fun pretending to be a Ghostbuster. Such timeless things --- the swing, the tires, the "monkey bars." All on a glunny (gloomy + sunny) day. Time was infinite. But, I was going nowhere.

Going. . .going. . .going. . .noooooooo where.

Stuck as a kid, listening to this music, playing on the swings --- routine, routine, routine. Was I going to go anywhere, do other things ?

Now about 14-15 years later, here I am wondering about the same thing, recalling this one piece of time when I also felt stuck and trapped in routine. I was at Griffith Pizzurk yesterday, too. That is such a shit park.

Maybe looking back at the time and seeing what I did next can provide the answers in proportion to what is happening now or what is going to happen ?

Not so fast, fox, not so fast. Eeeeer. DE-TOUR.

As in De-tour that this tour of the world has stopped.

The irony of all this is that I'll probably want to have all this lameness, this boredom, this routine back when it's gone. Anywhere, that's where I can go. ANY-WHERE. The Wherehouse, Chuck E. Cheese, Ware-Dogg's house, near the Palisades at night, I can go there ! I can totally fucking go there. O-RANGE COUNTY, the movie not the suck-ass show - way. But do I want to be there ?

So here's part of this lameness that I can never fully describe, but something that I hope to hold at least a piece of, a picture of, to remember that there are many directions to go, but only one place where your heart is.

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