Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

Originally Uploaded here by | HD |

Sometimes I wonder if I was born broken, as if, no matter my initial conditions, simple genetics would lead me to who I am now. Nature, nurture, data on most humans seems to point to both and I do share specieal biology with them, so let's hope that it's not fallacious to say it's likely. Perhaps I should now give special thanks to my progenitors to giving me the tools to overcome my natural inclination, or perhaps they deserve blame, or both. Causality is a bitch.

Many languages, and even dialects of english, make the distinction between self and one's emotions, unlike North American English. A sadness is upon me in lieu of I am sad, characterising emotions as something that happens to people instead of becoming them. I'm not sure if this is the best way to describe it, but it is a useful consideration nonetheless. Even considering this distance, I am still burdened by this cultural conception of being happy instead of feeling happy. And, in some ways, I think I finally, still, have that. Not a life of perfection, but one free of significant dysfunction. It works for me.

I spend most of my time either snowboarding or building houses. Alot fit between those cracks, but those are the primary time sinks in my life. For the most part, I am pretty private and solitary these days. The reasons for this are primarily spiritual. I might explain that later.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Deltron 3030 - Mastermind (song d/l)
Currently Eating: Beef Burger

Posted by Kurrs at 9:51 AM | Permalink

Originally Uploaded here by gravityroom

I remember a time. My fingers burned, worn rough by motion. I would write, and write, and write, as if there were no way to actually record all the words that would come. A river. I am not there now, too acutely aware of the world about me for that level of self-absorbtion. Now, it passively torments me, the idea of it.

I didn't know just how, private, our romance was, until it was held up before an attentive crowd. It is not that I disagree with public displays of affection, quite the opposite in fact. But there is something, furtive, polite, soft, and, above all, precious about how I feel about you. While it does not burn out my feelings, driving with the intensity of a collapsing star, it is perhaps the most precious romance I have had. Congruous, as everything should outdo its predecessors.

Furtive, a good word for my recent history of affections. Time goes on, and it would be perhaps easier if I could truly strike you from the list, and not merely from a decision matrix. Instead, this chronological progression forces you further into my mind. I appreciate you, and miss you, yet you are little more than a momentary failure. Little more than a slim possiblity with an ironic similarity present in body type.

I feel a need to wander sunless streets, the underside of clouds illuminated softly by the glow of pollution. Some nostalgic appeal to my love of bloodsuckers, or something. I have been, strangely, getting my wish. Necessity, being the mother of all invention and all.

Written On: Meghan's Computer
Currently Listening: Summers Tend Towards Heartbreak

Posted by Kurrs at 1:17 AM | Permalink

Originally Uploaded here by J Diggity

I'm in a right foul mood.

I find that as I make more money and am more overworked, I allow myself to spend sums of money I would normally have balked at. I simply don't have the energy to bother worrying about it, and, frankly, I make enough that worrying all the time about money is a grotesquely inefficient waste of energy. I mean, really, I takehome three times as much money as I did ten years ago. I plan to continue this growth pattern.

I'm drinking a decaf americano.

Bob's cats are staying at my house. It had been some time since I cat-sitted, and they are named after characters from the Iliad, so it feels appropriate enough.

I'm pretty sure my bad mood is the result of not getting enough sleep. I wouldn't take back my actions that lead me to that state, but it does mean I'm going to bed early.

Like, now.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Noisia - Therapy Mix August 2006 (mix d/l)
Extended Title: Also, Biodynamic Bacon!

Posted by Kurrs at 7:58 PM | Permalink

Originally Uploaded here by lolade

Today I saw my favourite opera, at least of those I've seen performed. It had everything that opera should have, love, comedy, wonderful crowd scenes, and an unrelentingly tragic ending. Like life, full and beautiful, made even moreso due to its ending. It makes me feel romantic.

I feel like I was a different person when I was with you, like that person is now deceased and I have inherited my life from a dead man. I cannot hate you, as you are far too good of a person to deserve my hate. However, in some senses it comes close. I wish you the best, even though I still wish to never see you again.

I saw you walking along, a slim possibility dressed impeccably, and you missed me, perhaps because of how I naturally move when not paying attention: gracefully and noiselessly, even though I do not mean to bring to mind the motion of the undead. In your hands was a lad, curly haired and dressed to match, and you smiled, uncertainly, like someone in love. You have always seemed like a nice person, I hope its working out for you.

I see you in the silhouettes of strangers, and I still cannot breathe at the thought of you. You were the most, the one who commanded most of my heart and soul, even though that was the problem in the end. Now, while that might be fiction, the romances of the speed and depth of rivers that mark the borders of great nations tend to linger even if their truth resides now only in tale.

I'm happy.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: The Cure - Friday I'm In Love (song d/l)
Currently Reading: Sunshine by Robin McKinley

Posted by Kurrs at 11:22 PM | Permalink

Originally Uploaded
here by Inecita

Posted by Kurrs at 3:47 PM | Permalink

One of the reasons I like gansta rap is that I like money, power, and having sex with bitches.

That is all.


Written On: Home Computer
Alternative Title: Parodies Are Funniest When Truthful

Posted by Kurrs at 7:28 PM | Permalink