Saturday, April 07, 2007

Love is an apocalyptic wasteland.

I found this a while back on the NY Times website. Right now it very accurately sums up how I feel about the situations that is me.

My heart, or whatever you want to call that evisceral spirit thingy that one would find if they eviscerate my chest, which makes me go go go, most certainly resides in the forest. And for now, right now, it is tired, so tired of wandering around looking for a woodling wonderling of the like to hermit with to meander with. The little wood nymph that is my whatever thingy continues to stumble onto desolate paths finding menacing sights as the one above as the unfortunate crossroads where she parts ways with muffins, big little shining stars, pumpkin eaters and magic eyes who weren't ready. She was born so very ready. Sebastian set the trend moving away to never join the navy, existing as a land dweller afar from his long lost lovely little miss. Jack Kerouac would agree, that Sebastian is gone and will never come back.


James said...

but kerouac would later exault, "But let the mind beware that though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious"

James said...

oops, spelt exalt wrong.

The Never Kissable Miss Kendra said...

hmmmm. yes he did. However, this in no way negates my point about myself. Never did i say that my existence is anything less than glorious. Many (myself included) would agree that my personal existence is indeed glorious in its very nature. Circumstances and all. But to evade pining is something distraught and cold and that is not something I learned from Kerouac or Celine or Bukowski or Miller or Kafka or any other sort of literary sage. Many people can write like I do, have insight like I do, are motivated like I am, are productive like I am. Very few can fulfill like I can, and have the heart and dedication for other loves that I do. That is something I have learned from existing.

p.s. spell check that shiznit!