goodbye 2009

I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I can't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been.

the idiot is my favorite book. just saying. i love you joan. iggy and thelonious, marvelous dolls. purchased two new pairs of boots, one cardigan, wool scarf, and new gloves for when im riding joan. promotion was lovely. burned the bridge, burned it all the way down. i apologize, you know it wasn't me. dostoevsky, thank you. move to california soon. i regret not visiting the mountains enough. saw the road. still haven't touched a drop. the silent treatment gets to me now and then, but whatever. i found a new love; smart, sexy, refined. eat your heart out. or don't. i dont mind. thelonious is laying on my feet right now, hahaha. shush iggy. oi, i miss manuel. good chap, full of life. i enjoyed oregon. new british pub opened, good food. courtney is a delight, a fresh light. that rhymed. i contributed money AGAIN to the following : kexp.org, npr.org, the audobon society, and the objectivist center. been going to a lot of plays lately. lomography is fun, trying new films and such. i absolutely love the new animal collective! until next time, which is myself reading what i wrote down and laughing, have a lovely life....and dont forget to set your alarm for 7:30, you have work in the morning !!!!!!!

ok

julian casablancas this sunday. pick up vespa saturday. find out if i'm promoted this week as well. had a wonderful birthday, and a lot of feelings and fears were answered; i love you. the city was beautiful, and her apartment just what i expected. my kittens are getting big. fabulous book of poetry as well, very nice. death be not proud, i will not live it down. i could stay up and speak all night to you. i hope you realize the true depth of what i say. but i know you do. so let it be, christian. still going strong, i am beating you everyday. i will not give up my happiness any longer to conform to society's notion of "living."

the things we lost in the dark

52 days.
i know.
to not rate in the eyes, and realize this, yet continue on. delusional, or determined. up's and down's. loneliness. loss of madness, yet beginning of another phase. seeing love soon. nothing more, nothing less. fools rush in where angels fear to tread. so many questions. fear of being sorted to the side, "tisk tisk tisk." behave yourself, son. i cannot even so much as say a single word about the fact that i have spent so many countless months toiling away at something that most certainly will never come to fruition. i am so fucking frustrated with religious boundaries yadda yadda yadda. no more books, nor songs of desire, will fill the void that im none too certain really ever could be. make sense? didnt think so.


fix the vespa. ride the skateboard. enjoy the weather. take lots of pictures. smoke far too much. write, tear, ponder, walden. the feelings of emptiness subside only when i think of you. corny, i completely know. but it's fall, and that is most certainly allowed.

sure thing jellybean

i found solace in nature. sobriety has its kicks, and i've always battled to stay on the straight and narrow. walking through the woods, actually smelling and seeing, is something im not willing to give up these days. im content with most aspects of my life. i saw a lot of beautiful birds this weekend, and caught up on a ton of reading. giving Ulysses a fourth read, because james joyce is just marvelous like that. i learned switch tre flip's again, yheee boiii. hmmm, what else? i feel my mind coming to an easier, simple pace. for as long as i can remember, my mind was addled with vodka and a whole shitload of other drink. quitting has been the most difficult, yet fulfilling endeavor ive come across in recent memory. other than that, one day at a time blah blah blah, and i hope to come to a happier, more sound mental state.

die doggy die

Thank-you , dear Walter, for that excruciating burst of adrenaline that you provide for me on a daily basis. As i am nearing the completion of my ten mile bike ride, my energy is waning and my spirit is becoming weak. The urge to abandon my trek is overwhelming, when suddenly, you burst from the front porch, barking, snarling, panting, froth dripping from your flabby jowls, your fangs glinting in the sunlight. Your mistress, the old crone, stands on the porch in her faded housecoat, clapping her hands frantically, shrieking "Walter, Walter , bad boy....come back here!" to no avail. You are a disobedient old cur and continue your pursuit, eyeing my ample rear as if it were indeed a rump roast. Your mistress calls out reassuringly that Walter is completely harmless and he just wants to play. I remain unconvinced as he latches on to my seersucker capris with remarkable force. "Don't be afraid", she exhorts me. "he can smell fear" HAH! I am about to soil my new gel bike seat. Terror is oozing from my every pore. And there it is - that amazing influx of adrenaline that spurs me on my way! I ride like the wind!, I can ride anywhere!, I can climb mountains!, I can run a marathon! I give Walter a kick to the chops, while housecoat lady screams "Don't hurt my baby!" and I am outta there. However, at my age, I am becoming concerned about this daily dose of adrenaline and am becoming increasingly concerned about its' effect on my circulatory system. So, tomorrow, Walter, I am ready for you. I purchased some dog repellent spray. We will meet tomorrow. I'll be cruising by on my trusty old bike, and you will be rolling on the yard with your rheumy eyes smarting from the pepper spray. The container boasts of a twenty foot stream, so I may have a little squirt for you mistress as well. See ya tomorrow.

in memory of

i realized that my posts are just dreams that i wish would come true in some bizarre, other world dimension. no more sorrow or discontent; shapes and shifts, stairs and ski lifts.

banter and silly panther

ghosts were filled in my room. i saw a child, streak across the vacuum. i needed lights. she slept on the outside, for i was selfish bastard. drinks filled, drinks poured. sleep. i walked into the abyss, saw the women i needed. love. saw the pink. hiding on the shelf. steam and closure. "this is what you want." nay. will. i turned and laughed. the towel hanged from the rod, unable to do its job. fired. tear. i said, "fuck it." wish you were here. wake up wake up wake up. she was waiting for me, eyes lying and body waiting. i told her of tales of the ancients; tales of england and grit. you. we listened to the burgeoning sounds of 2009 soul. i enjoyed the potato fermented in a bottle of consumerism. "you're beautiful." buy buy buy. apart. we hold each other in an embrace. her feet upon mine; song over. sleep.

cats and puppies

i looked at adam. a formidable force; trained by the elite. hunting and foxes are something i relish, yet i forsee as the "ad hoc" of our existence. is adam really.....really? was that beer a liquid or really the sugar to a diabetic? i could argue both sides. sides are shaped by the unimaginable cunts who feel sunglasses and clothing are the GREATEST INVENTION EVER! i want to drop dead, and just yell verbose nomenclatures to some kitty lover....wait. i love kitties. when you oh fuck off die im the mostjk ;/d,msnlksf/nlfs,

crowds gather, but i am anonymous. stella, you are a babe. "well im a fucked up mess." congrats. i fish, read books, and try to write. this blog is for the birds. blog? rhymes with dog. who i believe are doctors at the start. i love dog's. i also love the freedom i feel when i see new york. one day. one day. i wish nothing upon my enemies. really. i am in love. i am in love i am in love. if you'd open your eyes to a movie moment finish, i wouldnt be happy. i like this, i like the enamored diatribe. goodnight.

hiiiiyaa

living like a dog has its definite advantages...being a doctor does as well. combining these foul ditty's mixes doubt and irrelevant facts with reality and the nonsensical. i like fishing for consciousness. in a ethereal body of space and lime. time time halibut. susanna kaysen. jesus was? ok. pause. delete. we decide to coincide whilst carpe diem birds flutter amongst waking schism. take and take, altruism is moral cannibalism.

LAST NITE

we started on the ferry. pushing papers back and forth. "how long have you smoked?" arrival. vespa failure. "let's walk and see what comes up." mariners game. "i'd be running like i stole cheeto's from a gas station." victory. walk of death. "i'm tired." hostel; no vacancy. moore hotel. the shining. bevvy's beforehand. "LET'S GO HAVE A BELLTOWN PARTY!" adam is sneaky, and i mean twice. hehe secret squirrel. mada decides to drink three long ISLANDIA ICE BREWSKIES, black out, the play is over. synopsis: i find beautiful women, he throws up (in the bar). mada : animal. christian : fervent half chodskies. mada throws up in cab. christian buys 18 pack to suffice depression. offered crack cocaine. NA MAN I DONT DO DRUGS, THERE FOR SLUTS AND LOSERS (or so says the t-shirt that every faggot straight edger wears). morning. no credit cards. no money. "be still, my beer, i still love you." run down the ferry corridor, screaming at the top of our lungs. arrival. rinse, repeat. 

sitting, wine swirled through a tumbler, put the track on. adam stole my ray- "bons". i love it. take your ring off good sir, relax; this is the only dream worth living whilst you are awakened.

the importance of sailboats

there was a time when my world was filled with darkness. on that sailboat, i walked to the helm. "you look as if you are sad, son." i navigated my skiff to the nearest rock, tying off and sighing. "lisa, salt lake city, how are you? the belgian frites, they were salty, just like this sea." we waded in, a sand crab scuttled in the shallows, looking for its home. "hmm. sand crab, you are amongst friends. we know where to venture, but we are lost among the tides." lisa opened a bottle of merlot, and we sipped amongst the gulls as they flew semi-circles of loneliness. "tonight, i feel the warmth of your touch, yet i am cold. hold me. hold me as if this was the ending." beginning, i thought, for she knew not that i had dived earlier into the deep blue, fetching a pearl from a grand mollusk, yearning for her heart. i presented her this gift of my admiration. smiles. "yes." and that was all i needed. we were forever entwined amongst the sea and clouds. clouds swirled and laughed, breathing fresh dew in the morning as we unhitched and set forth for Calcutta. "your smile leaks of things to come," she said, " for i will always love you, as long as we are on the sea."

lies, spies; did you like the apple pie?

a chunk of stone with egyptian hieroglyphics lay on a pedestal in the corner of an office. 

is it truly necessary to fault yourself when trying to convey a quasi-realist approach to an acceptable life? i just encountered a liar. cynical wetbrain. i despise your macabre thinking to display a pithy semblance of importance. lies lies lord of the flies. yes! bask in your self glory, because you awake feeling like our predecessors. a groggy trogledyte, slack jawed and filled with the, " oh i (sic) crosed  those two morons, i (sic)sayd i was someone im wasnt." 

parasite, leach and attach yourself to your country stars and drunken celebrities. your "tribal" tattoo was something i dream about at night while im whisked away on a seagulls back, because obviously i am of such miniscule intelligence that i do not deserve nor require a suitable transport vehicle on my way to MOTHER FUCKING APPALACHIAN USA! 

forever yours,

christian douglass.

fruit n' sour jolly rancher

coca cola is decisive in my night because it really upholds a fine, razor tooth comb that i dance merrily upon. should i have diet? hmm. or regular? chasers or red wine? ill choose the latter. or was that ladder? to where? a grassy knoll upon which i wait for an apple to drop with a worm who says, " this is only a dream, travel my earthly, kindred soul, for i was where you sat before. " i laugh at his rings, judging him for his time on earth. "how did you begin? where did this start?" i've never seen a worm cry nor a prayer answered, but i am sure of both. answers ultimately are fused for explosion when sparrows sing in the fall. "does this make sense to you, sir?" he laughed. i had never seen a worm laugh. "i enjoyed coca cola whilst i was a youth, cry only tears of joy." 

i awoke, exhumed from a dark slumber. "i need to brush my teeth."

life continued.

ugh

tired. sleep deprived. mixed with sleep paralysis. beautiful concoction. it happens nightly. frozen; left in the open. this usually causes myself to receive no more than 2-3 hours of sleep a night. so when i say i enjoy sleeping as much as possible, oh boy, do i mean it. so, reading up on this fucking gem, ive come to realize im either possessed by the devil, or something is genuinely wrong with me. lets hope my first option, i'll add it to the bag of other demons i fight on the daily.
peep the new julian casablancas song with dangermouse/sparklehorse. pretty cool.

soooo

i rarely go on here. i work too much, and when im off i prefer sleeping, reading, or buying records to really convey any spirit into this. i think maybe one person reads this, haha. so let's see:
- the kills and the horrors this friday at neumo's. wicked.
- im going home soon to see my family, the girl i love, and witness my grandmother turn 80.
- not too thrilled that flight of the conchords is soldout all three nights in seattle.
- my iphone is still broken, but i can text still.
- i find out if im promoted in a week.
- college courses start back up for me. im genuinely thrilled.
- ive mellowed out a lot when it comes to expressing how i feel and being too overdramatic about said emotions. if things pan out, lovely. if not; "while i continue to toil through this..waking life." ha.
- 1. im getting better at saving my money. 2. i have enough vacation time to leave for a few weeks. 1+2= belgium. by myself. sure. im thrilled.
- its getting sunnier. huzzah.

i guess thats all thats really going on for now.

think.

There's a branch of vitality that has everything to do with death, with mortality and the absolute end of a simple existence. Without the understanding that there's no escape hatch when the lights start to dim and where the embalmer makes his bread, one is unfortunately disillusioned and cannot successfully live it up. Without embracing the fragility of life, the capacity to experience richness in life is lessened. Death legitimizes life, to some extent, and some of the most interesting thoughts come when death is broached and really examined with a fine-toothed comb. The thought of death is so suggestive of tragedy and such a languid supposition that it never really feels like it's breathing our air, but when it's put into the right contexts and those carpe diem birds start chirping as if they've just bathed in the mystic prowess of promised daybreak, death is as lovely and invigorating a concept as anything. It can be the same as a crisp autumn morning, maybe with exhalations coming out white, but still toasty only because thinking of death and one's eminent demise can force a person to truly get to living, as flowery as that may sound.

have a lovely day.

.....

isnt much that i feel i need

a solid soul, and the blood i bleed.

with a little girl, and by my spouse,

i only want a proper house.

i ran out of effin fish oil. i bought the church hams for easter. i wore loafers with no socks. is it still winter? im getting fat. listening to a lot of reggae lately, and animal collective. if you couldnt tell. im sleeping too much. all i wanna do is sleep.

anything i write, i've noticed...

i end up hating anyway. i pour endless hours into journals, only to pull a fuckin silvia plath and burn everything or flush it down the toilet. its pathetic. ill look back on this in, hmm, three weeks and want to delete it. so ill be happier. i failed my room inspection today, and not because its a den of iniquity, or even some slovenly pit; no, because i had a few clothes out and various postcards and a picture of virginia woolf. "gear adrift." kick rocks. 

so, in other news? ive successfully completed a year in seattle. i truly love this place. one major reason behind my said love of this pacific northwestern town is the local radio station kexp 90.3. i heard of the station within a few days of moving up, and its been on 24/7 since then. i can honestly say it has kept me sane at work with all the looney tunes i work with, so yeah! check out the site...www.kexp.org

um, have a lovely day. i dont feel too creative, nor do i feel like rambling about nonsensical bs.

pizzicato five- my baby portable player sound. 

julie doiron- spill yer lungs.

serge gainsbourg- melody.

chris joss- zingy twangs.

the decemberists- the rakes song.

!!!

utter realization?

cliche. sure.

i realized today, for the 1698696 time (yes that was a random clicky of my mac numerical second line down) that i, christian patrick douglass, am a fool for love. and not just any love. im in love with a girl that is religiously untouchable.  a woman that is so cute she doesnt know it. a woman i see as the bearer of mis cubby's. she knows. oh sheee knows! just wanted to throw that little nutter butter out there. meet me in bruge, mi amor; love is ours, sexton is sour.

p.s. kimya dawson can suck it. she seriously sucks.

amadou & mariam - sabali.

sure

where is god, when confusion, disarray, and prayer all seem like the same idea?