You must be (I hope you are)

Things can’t be any different there than they are here, not fundamentally anyways. The sets are different, the characters swapped out, the lines might even be improvised. But at the end of the day, the plot is still the same, we’re still in the same never-ending act of the same never-ending script.

The writer believes things will never change. He thinks you’ll never make your exit. 26 weeks, 12 months, half a decade…you and I will still be standing in the same places we are now; waiting. For what? None of us are sure.

The producer wants you gone, he’s wanted you gone since the moment your character entered the story. He’s always felt you were a threat to me, to my direction, or lack thereof. Whatever the fuck that means.

Speculation gets the better of me, I can’t imagine the feeling is any different on your side. Wondering, waiting, wallowing…it has to be symmetrical doesn’t it? Though, symmetry was never our strongpoint. We never had any of it when it mattered, not in our on-camera scenes. One of us was almost always on the wrong mark, or had the wrong line, or the wrong expression. Almost.

But there were those times when we just clicked. Our timing and pace were perfect, our words intertwined, the lighting revealing only what mattered, hiding all the flaws that never really mattered to us or the audience. Those were the times that the producer and the writer got along, when their vision of us merged into one. Sure they were sparse, and fleeting…but they were unlike anything ever seen, pure euphoria. And so we kept filming.

You must be feeling this…(I hope you are)

Past, Drugs and Incomplete Worlds.

I haven’t written here in far too long…but somehow it still doesn’t feel like long enough. My (mostly) brutal and (occasionally) triumphant moments are chronicled here. For those reasons alone I’m hesitant to type these letters out into words, and on into sentences, and, god forbid, thoughts. It somehow makes it all so much more real, and reality is something I’m currently avoiding at all costs.

Tonight probably isn’t the night to make a return. It doesn’t seem like the night that I’ll showcase my finest work. But tonight is the first time I felt I had to write in over a year.

Re-living my last three posts, which cover nearly the last two years, it occurred to me how many times my life has transformed, only to end up in exactly the same place. That leads me to one of two possible conclusions:

1. I’m insane.

2. Something keeps pushing me in the same direction.

I honestly can’t decide which one I’d rather be the case. On the one hand, being insane sounds awful, but at least it’s a resolution. The second explanation only leads to more wondering, more work, more hopes to be crushed, more time to be lost striving for something I’m not even sure I’m capable of…but at least I haven’t lost my mind.

The last post gives me chills..not because it’s so outwardly thought-provoking or unique (it’s not). Quite the opposite in fact. It’s making my skin tingle and my eyes water because of how accurate it is right now.

This has already gone much too far…And I’m stuck. Stuck between believing I have to weather the storm…or ending this impossible attempt at pretending we don’t exist, even just for a moment. Because we do exist, and we’re incomplete in our separate worlds.

Struggling to admit what I truly believe, if only because it leaves me vulnerable, broken without you. But I’m only fooling myself for a short time. Reality will collapse on top of me regardless of words.

It’s as if my future is already written, or at least the future I (know I’ll) want. Every moment in between is just filling up the space, it’s just to pass the time. I wish it were that simple. I wish it were that easy. It’s not, at least it’s not for me.

I have to analyze these feelings, my actions, their overall relevance, their percentage of truth and logic, what they mean now, what they’ll mean for my future. Over and over, the thoughts cycle through their potential outcomes. It’s exhausting beyond belief and I wish it could stop. But then I don’t really, because there’s a part of me that believes it’s the only thing that makes me any different than anyone else. It’s what lifts me above the masses.

There’s a large part of me that believes love is just like any other drug. We all strive for these moments that aren’t concrete or lasting. We chase with no end in sight. We fight with almost zero chance of victory. We endure torturous amounts of pain. We do all of that and more…just to get that high. And just like any other drug, when we think about the effects, the only thing that comes to mind is the high, not the strife and sacrifice that led to it, and not the slide into darkness that follows…just the high. Just the moment when the world felt balanced, dreams mixed into reality, and life just felt right.

It’s textbook addiction, but not only is it socially acceptable…it’s socially expected. My cynical side would like to file the feeling away as an evil fantasy. As a taboo. As something that lacks reality or perspective. But there’s one thing that keeps me from that. Every day I wake up, I think…

We (It) do(es) exist, and we’re incomplete in our separate worlds.

I need you so much closer.

Searching for the right words to express what’s inside of me. But it’s futile, they simply don’t exist. The only way I know is to show you.

This has already gone much too far and we’re less than halfway through. And I’m stuck. Stuck between believing I have to weather the storm, to follow the plan, or ending this impossible attempt at pretending we don’t exist, even just for a moment. Because we do exist, and we’re incomplete in our separate worlds.

Struggling to admit what I truly believe, if only because it leaves me vulnerable, broken without you. But I’m only fooling myself for a short time. Reality will collapse on top of me regardless of words.

Every moment I think of you, I imagine you here, in my grasp, and it becomes overwhelming. But imagining my life without you feels impossibly worse.

I want need to do what’s right for us, but most importantly, what’s right for you. And I truly hope this is it.

I still….I just don’t think I’m….

It’s always been absurd to me, a cliche. Uttered by so many in meaningless attempts to be genuine that I’ve never given it an ounce of serious consideration. Until now.

Face-to-face in a moment that could be nothing less than the ultimate reality. Staring down the possibility that I’m reading the line and thinking it’s the only thing to say, re-reading it, bouncing it off of others for their approval. It sounds true… perhaps right, even. And that can’t be a good thing.

Signs follow me in my sleep, there’s no rest for the w(e)ary. The efforts to suspend the sub-conscious and mornings full of guilt and (hopeful) disbelief are fading into the night. The dreams are the last indicators before perception becomes reality.

I can’t help wondering what brought me here. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s impossible that it will take me away. Trapped deep inside this misrepresentation, trying to claw my way out seems futile.

Fuck it.

I still… but I just don’t think I’m…

I’m all in.

I always thought that convincing myself would be the hardest part. Convincing myself that I could feel this, convincing myself that it’s existence was possible. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. 

And now i’ve come to this point. I’ve come to the point of abandonment. I’ve abandoned everything I’ve ever thought was right. I’ve abandoned my reasoning, my logic, my pattern of thinking…my tao. 

So here I am…I’m all you’ve ever wanted and everything I’ve ever feared. I’m yours. Giving you everything you want. Laying myself on the ground for you. 

This is the moment of truth. This is the moment where you decide. I’m leaving it up to you. I’m letting go of everything for you. 

I’m all in. What are you?

“That is the dumbest thing on the internet”

That’s how Randall put it…and I don’t think he could be any more poignant. Just in case you ever needed a directory of the dumbest people on the planet with internet access, I’ve found it:

Charter: For Life

I really don’t even want to dignify this thing with a logical analysis and conclusion, but I have to. Ok, as of the time of this posting, the high bid was $39,007.00. Let’s assume that Charter’s most expensive internet plan is about $50. That’s 780 months. That’s 65 years. That’s longer than just about everyone who is old enough to spend $39,007.00 will live.

Even assuming you live that long, let’s think about this for a second. Why would someone do this? The cost of internet is steadily declining, there are entire cities with free wifi coverage. Many people think that free internet is inevitable.

Next problem, inflation. What the fuck is $39,007.00 going to be worth in 65 years. 65 years ago, if you had $39,007.00…you would have the 2008 equivalent of, oh…a fucking house ($308,244.83). And these jackasses want to spend it…on internet.

To conclude, these people are fucking idiots. All of them need to be put on a fucking island…and we need to sink it into the fucking ocean.

DVDs and Marriage

This past weekend, while NOT going to Disneyland (aka, driving to Anaheim, parking and then being rejected at the front gates…damn you blackout dates!!!) I watched yet another film on TV that I own on DVD…which reminded me of a recent New Rule on Real Time with Bill Maher…

New Rule: Scientists must explain why we will stop and watch a movie on cable even though we own that exact same movie on DVD, and could watch it any time we want. I call it “Shawshank” Syndrome. And I’ve realized that DVD’s are a lot like marriage: when it’s there every single night, just sitting right in front of you, for some reason, you don’t feel like putting it in.

Damn you Ronin. You got me again.