Today. I went through my old blog posts on poetwithoutapen.com, and I am saving them as word documents, because maybe all of my writings should be on one website (or in one place). Once this website’s time comes, I’ll probably have to do it all over again, so I might as well start saving everything as a word document, uploaded to the cloud – God forbid that everything gets wiped from my computer (or this earth).
Reading some of those original posts is a throwback (March-May, 2018) …So six years ago. They are all fragmented sentences, and I obviously really lived in a made-up make-believe world, that must’ve not made a whole lot of sense to the outside reader. Here is one:
confidence
April 1st 2018
it dawned on me that if the goal is to achieve a state of home, which roots from a place of youth, then it may be best to stop looking any further. Memories of childhood aren’t particularly celebritorial and home wasn’t exactly comfortable. 30 minutes broke a four day depression, but that’s old news. Meat is back on the menu and my soul is hungry but I’m not.
hahaha…yeah
I know most (very little) of what I’m implying to say, but maybe not everyone would. Although I did write a relatively coherent novel around this time titled Spoon in the Road. And funny enough, I just picked a random posting, and here I am six years later to let you know, meat is back off the menu.
A word that comes to mind with my writing is sincerity. Some call it oblivious honesty, or incriminating lecturing. I just call it sincere. I do not hide who I am online. And the purpose of these writings are to get me through the hardships I hold onto, and figure out new perspectives which can be shared, deepened, and explored with others.
But to continue…It’s not that I “can’t control myself” with meat, it is more that I think meats (especially reds) create a sort of aggression in my system, or psyche that don’t exactly inhabitant my inner sanctum when I’m abstaining from it. I don’t think I am going full veg, because I plan to eat it at certain junctures and restaurants, along with salmon on a weekly basis. But on a day to day basis, I am becoming a vegetarian again. And here I will be, six years from now, writing about how meat is good for the soul. But
Surprise surprise, many of my compulsive behaviors that have been plaguing me for about few months now (closer to a year), as of yesterday and today, are much more, even keeled. But
I did get in a fight on Sunday. Stupid pride and immaturity. Doesn’t matter. It does, but I’ll deal with it in my own way. I have to eventually. Maybe it was enough of a wake up call to just grow up a little bit, as we all have to do. But
Sure I want a soda, or something else just as sweetly indulgent, but I rationally might as well have a la croix and not a whole bar of choclate while i’m at it. I don’t know. I’m no sage guru, but it doesn’t take long for to remember something that took you so long to learn how to do, that you only been undoing for a relatively short while.
This is my last little note before I head off. It ties in with the meat thing. You can do whatever you want. It is your own personal constitution. But at some point you have to ask yourself if your happiness is worth the betrayal of yourself. Something we know. And sometimes, we wish we don’t. Apart from eating meat, drinking soda, not going to church, smoking, staying up late, and wearing socks, I have been shaving.
As someone who’s blog posts used to soley consist of arcane inuuedos, my facial hair is no exception to symbolism. However,
for a long, long time, I would size up or down everyone I used to walk by on the street, by their height. It was always the first thing that mattered in every interaction. And well…I grew out of it. I haven’t cared about how tall someone is in a genuine sense in a long, long time. I can acknowledge it, but it isn’t important. It’s a sad narrow minded perspective on people, including myself. So I hope I don’t judge everyone by their facial features either.
Ben Bonkoske 