July 17 and 19’s pieces still mark the arc climax. As a delayed [there is delay] annex, electronic voice phenomenon can take ~a week to process, also I’m not david lynch so people’s attention spans usually don’t humor past 1 medium [e.g. writing + songs] so a ghost’s dos-post goes no-noticed with a writing exceeding 13 words. My own motives stop at helping with Lulu’s university tuition [she left for college since the last she’s-2-years-old facetime], then [discounting I] planting the members of this creative team’s disparate-beyond-avengers’ labor fruits, and making enough off this symphony of silliness to survive on canned tuna, so regardless that you presume it doesn’t benefit your own immediate profit it’s not like the least you guys minus Demo-cause-he-does-everything could do is help outsource this stuff cause you’re clearly rea[Gets up drives to wasteland]
[Automated Android simulates the rest]
I. want, .. the world I live in to be one where it’s genuinely Okay to be in whatever place you’re at. Whether I’m sympathetically uplifted or openly peeling from my own magmadness. I live as honestly as possible with myself regardless, but embracing loneliness-martyrdom is by definition not pleasant, and I’m not a masochist so yeah. Again, forget my own perspective through exorcising this. If you would—whatever pain you have to go through, project it with Crescendo Angst Cinevision.
To summarize this with explicitness cause some people understandably don’t understand lyrical nuance whatsoever. No I don’t plan to nor want to ever feel this again, lest I lose to myself on my own bet and make myself go to a barber for the first time. Not cause I won’t move on but exactly Cause I move on—with the void. To me just waiting to replace the void with another placeholder isn’t moving on. That justification just to indulge our human programming is so disgusting and archaically obvious I’d rather die useless. I won’t move on, in that I won’t abandon this loss. I won’t abandon what someone like Hadrian died with. It’s too close to who I am and the resulting empathy and altruism that I Can give if I brain-out-of-nosebleed-aim my pain long enough to leave behind a crime scene investigation of emotionality. Even if it takes long past my demise for someone to notice my guts sprayed across the shrub fields.
I’ll also never wait because I have waaayy too much self-worth to compete with blazé-bearded posh turtleneck-when-it’s-less-warm never-look-at-the-camera weasels because there is nothing to feel the need to compete with because re: self-worth. Why then do I appear this spiteful well funny you ask for anyone offended:
– I still have a sense of humor to counterbalance unmoving isolation—much of the humor self-deprecating so that you sad egoists can look in a mirror and ask “wut ez dis hoo ahm Ie?”
– It’s not like if I tried to appear approachable you wouldn’t have looked for something to get offended by anyway.
– Art transcends and I can think of enough people who can get something out of all this.
Once again if this comes off at all that I’m now all gewd, then either you or I have missed the whole point. I will Never turn my back on the loss. I will never turn my back on…..[twirls and directs finger to your chest area] You…whoever and wherever the fudge you are, whether you’re someone I ever speak to, whether you have to wonder if you’ll step on a mine on the way out the door or you’re a hermit in the mountains, whether you’re senior or still learning to sprint, whether you’re willing to show you’re anywhere as terrified as I am about where things go. As an emo-existential enthusiast, I have to take hope with my darkness.
Regardless how shitty, anti-cinematic, and thoroughly alone my death may / will be, I won’t go out flipping off anyone I actually could’ve lastingly helped at all. I’ll go out flipping off everyone I don’t think deserves my mercy. I’ll go out flipping off everyone who ever abandoned me and so won’t earn my obliging them a hitchhike ride on my way to Hell. I’m nowhere close enough to the peace side of my equally Peace Vs. War soul. And I have the superpower of offending everyone ad unintentional absurdum, so I might as well Use It. Someone’s gotta be helped by it……………………… Yeah?
You’re out there. I know you are. You might be reading right now and too shy to reach out. I’m not waiting for you either. You may be Lulu’s future playmate who undusts her street uncle’s treasure chest of when-you’re-older madness and have their world ruptured by the pathos of my at-that-point conceptualized legacy. Ok I master-checked this track enough, I’m now typing for fun. So yeah, this one’s to You. Cause if I’m gonna leave anything behind, I’m gonna try leaving it with the hope that I more or less never felt myself from anything / where / one.
This is for those who don’t / won’t make it.