the J-kinz
impractical and a daydreamer
Sep 12th, 2011 @ 3:25 pm
re-direct: thejkinz.com
Aug 10th, 2011 @ 11:13 am
tumblr friends, it’s over.
That giant slew of posts was just me putting things onto my blog, it simultaneously posted to Tumblr. From now on follow me at:
<3
@ 2:58 am
I really must stop
building things up in my mind.
After many years, one is stumbled upon
worth putting it all out there for
a breath of genuine fresh air
in a world cloaked with ash.
Heart muscles tense,
an anxious stirring,
a nervous thrill of an idea.
Stomach churning with anticipation of
the most virtuous and noble thoughts
play themselves out in my
mind so focused, so settled in
to this adorable vision.
Finally, a sigh of
relief where a glimmer of hope
beacons on my life’s dim horizon,
and then,
gone.
Swept away.
No more.
(only an idea)
@ 2:55 am
how to so easily fall in love with the idea of someone
Someone will walk into the room,
take their seat, and
instantly she’ll have my full attention.
What is it exactly? Well,
you’re different, and it’s a sure thing
I haven’t seen you here before.
Way to break up my routine,
giving me something new to dwell on.
I’m taken by your presence so quiet
that now dominates me so loudly.
Where once I’d tune out,
now I’m tuned in
to your graceful elegance,
the manner in which you’ve positioned your
self in the chair, and the
hushed, humble murmur of your
very shy, even trembling voice.
You have my attention.
My newest fascination,
but who are you really?
Just stay this way for me
please, don’t move because
the second I get to know you
everything will change.
And we wouldn’t want that now
would we?
@ 2:48 am
i had a dream last night we
finally met.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off you.
You were brunette this time,
and I stood over you, watching you sleep,
catching every subtle movement,
every breath,
I wanted to hold onto, so tightly
as if somehow so fragile it could slip away.
I paced the room, watching you sleep,
glancing at you, then turning away smiling,
treasuring this moment,
that we were finally together.
My heart fluttered, warm, satisfied,
nervously excited, I think I laughed in my sleep,
a laugh that was caught in my throat.
I heard a voice whisper to me,
“Can you believe it? It’s her.”
The ring sparkled on your finger,
the ring I placed on your hand,
the night you said “Yes,” before I could ask.
We danced without any music and,
dressed in our finest clothes,
You were so spectacularly stunning
words betray how beautiful you were to me.
Brazen, glamorous, and cloaked in mystery.
Together we held hands in Central Park,
and ate at an elegant restaurant,
pretending to be people we weren’t,
just for fun.
We stood on top of the Empire State,
making out as the sun disappeared to the west
and the lights began to flicker below like a trillion candles
from the trillion people gathered in a trillion pews
in the biggest heavenly cathedral in existence
and we were on its ceiling,
just us.
I watched us stroll along the reflecting pool’s edge,
a crevice of moonlight shimmering the water.
It was a perpetual summer’s dusk,
the Washington monument behind us.
Such a spacious, still and quiet night,
we had decided to drive down for the evening,
just the two of us.
You laughed and buried your face in my chest,
and I melted because I had you.
My life and yours were one,
And I held you so tight as if to never let you go,
a grip so tight not even death could take it away,
with souls so wrapped up and intertwined,
destined for one another,
nothing could even come close to separating it.
My heart raced, a shrill of excitement,
of gratitude, of captivated wonder,
that our paths had finally crossed,
that you were my found treasure.
That I was yours.
But it was all just a dream.
does it have to be one?
@ 2:40 am
breaking the silence
Approaching you can be very difficult sometimes. I run and hide and cover my face with crimson hands, shameful because I know how undeserving I am and how much I fall short. Yet you inspire me with a gentle whisper in a silent drive, on a radio station I never listen to. Even though I resist constantly in this ongoing battle, split down the middle knowing which way leads to life but still cheating myself, putting my hope in things and especially people… that won’t fill me, let me down, break my heart, will pass away, and most of all, are completely unreliable.
Yet you never change, and are always dependable. Even if I have nothing else I have you, and I am spurred on to dream by you the ultimate dreamer. But it’s not about me, this pitiful, sickly, and self centered kind of plea and a determined effort and selfish desire to be right with you is not found anywhere in your character. The fact that I am trying, by my own effort to help myself is actually a sign that I’m rebelling against the accomplished fact, what you have already done for me, the absolute gift. Am I humble enough to accept it? I have to surrender my rights and demands, and cease from every self effort and leave my life alone completely in your hands and not mine. How long is it going to take until I’m free from this unhealthy habit if thinking about myself? The only place where I am right with you is in you. You say such simple things like “come to me” Do I really want to get there? Am I foolish enough? I can right now if I want, even in the midst of this deficiency. You know just how far the east is from the west, from one scarred hand to another. What would I do without you? What would I be without grace? Even though I struggle, I am free. Instead of sitting there and surveying me and thinking about what I can “do” to cure myself you just run to me and accept me for me immediately and without consultation. I know you will get me out of bed – out of my listlessness and exhaustion, and out of my condition of being half dead while I am still alive. You penetrate with life and sustain by the perfection of vital activity. It is not suffering after all, rather majestic vitality.
@ 2:17 am
cracked filters
I just can’t keep up with this life. The whole thing moves way too fast for me, and now everything comes apart at the damn seams. I once had a routine to living, until I quickly realized the ridiculousness of routine which soon led me to realize the absurdity of inconsistency. There is so much to do and hardly any time at all. A giant Big Ben weighs down upon me, each step I take, the louder the ticking. I shutter and try to escape but it’s impossible. There’s no evading its all encompassing pressure. Everything is a race, a race to death, and must be completed in the allotted “time.” So where is the freedom we speak of then? The answer: an incremental process.
With each to-do list comes more things. Is this really how life is supposed to be? There’s no possible way. Who else struggles with these daily questions? Please, speak up; help me know I’m not alone here. That I haven’t gone mad. Don’t you realize it? We’re all like mindless puppets in this world’s game. Some of us supposedly “have it all together” but maybe those are just the people who have grown content and comfortable to their slavery. While everyone is just immersed in the world, I can’t help but ask the deeper question, and take a step back and just observe it from a distance. Some of us dare to do this, and we call them “crazy” but maybe the crazies are actually their accusers. Some people will never take that step back and look at everything from a heightened perspective. Some people will. From up there, the truth is exposed, and the truth is a frighteningly sorrowful and paradoxically wonderful. The more wisdom - the more sorrow… yet also – liberation. Wouldn’t you rather know the truth than live a lie? Even if it was a very comfortable, pleasurable lie, I would much rather know the truth, because the truth, is freeing, and that is what I have found in Jesus. So even when I feel like this is all so crazy and mixed up and meaningless, when “The Bell Jar” as descending upon me, when it feels like every molecule is about to become undone, there’s freedom. No coincidence today is the day I read a sentence that I try so often to live, but I just needed it uttered today, to bring me back to sanity. (a sanity that “you” might call insanity)
“”I only get one go around [at this life] and why the hell not let my heart and soul do the navigating.”
Sally, of course. The unbeknown star of my literary world. No coincidence that it came from her, nor that I begin writing this post the weekend I have set aside to explore a place I’ve longed to investigate since I heard about it, a personal pilgrimage of mine – the Trans Allegheny Lunatic Asylum in Weston, West Virginia. My mind is constantly plagued with deep, piercing, existential questions. Life finally caught up with me and I just stopped for a second, stepped out of the ‘immersion’ and took a look around and just said, “This can’t be it. There’s just no way.” Everything is run on this clock. A meeting to help map out my future with my major, everything can only last so many minutes before time is up, next person. We limit ourselves constantly. If you want to follow your dreams and passions and study what you want, you have to first go through years and years of red tape, stagger to build upon your weakness, suppress your strengths some more, put that story on the back burner one more year so you can get done a bunch of meaningless red tape, another obstacle that stands in your way. In all honesty, I’m tired of it. We only get one go around right?
I have all these creative ideas, stories that I long to write, but I’m so caught up in “the race.” The Meaningless Race. How do you get out of that? The answer is only a perspective away; I just need to get in that perspective. The book will be written Josh. And don’t worry so much about having not met her yet, She will arrive on the scene at the perfect timing. Patience. Patience. Patience. Character. Character. Character………………………………………………
Maybe irrationality is rational.
You know?
If you want to see the real insane, you need only to look in a mirror. We’re all the same you see. The heroin addict and the President. The CEO and the writer. The homeless man and the wealthiest man. Who has it worse? Who is the real monster? Freedom is all a matter of perspective. I just finished reading an incredible book, “Down and Out on Murder Mile.” The author, Tony O’Neill, really helped me reevaluate life and how I see other people. He finished his novel/memoir with these words:
“The train keeps moving.
I keep moving too.
Destination, anywhere.
Amen.”
I loved that. Will I ever be fit for a regimented life or job? So many of us are going to college to pursue a career, how many are pursuing their passions? How many think their passions are suppressed? How many are actually doing what they absolutely love and are gifted at? How many trust with gracious uncertainty that it will work out if they let their heart and soul navigate…?
What if everyone sees through a filter? We do in a sense, am I right? What we perceive as vision, shapes, colors, is only what we see out of our two tiny pupils. There is more there, but we see only so much. For example, we don’t see every molecule in a chair, but we do see the chair. So we see through filters. What if someone’s filter was cracked a bit? Or completely shattered? We’d detain the liberated and deem them as mad. How do we know people with schizophrenia or déjà vu, or various mental illnesses, aren’t the sane ones? Just like a million people living deep inside a cave for thousands of years and one stumbles outside and sees the world above, he goes and tells the others and they call him crazy.
People with ‘supposed’ mental illness have enriched my life so much because they have dared to take their minds places the so called sane, would never go. They ask questions that others don’t. Aren’t we all a little mentally ill? How do you define it? Where do you draw the line between the sane and the insane? When I read Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” I couldn’t help but identify with this main character Esther Greenwood. To me, she made so much sense, and I recalled feeling and perceiving the way she did in some instances. Don’t worry about me, I’m not going to stick my head in an oven, but I wouldn’t deem Sylvia as insane. Rather, I’d say maybe she just saw an aspect of reality that the rest of us hadn’t, or choose not to. She did ask the question, “Can you ever find your way out of your own mind?” One scene in the book stands out to me, when Esther returns from New York; she has been sleeping for days in her bedroom in the suburbs of Boston. She doesn’t care about hygiene because she doesn’t see the point in getting herself together only to have to do it again and again the next day and the next. She was looking for something permanent. Everyone knows I’m a rather clean person, and I wouldn’t be like that ever, but I couldn’t help identify with her point. Then she said, she saw all of her days as tiny white squares, like on a calendar, and a small sliver of black in-between each square representing the night. Soon those slivers disappeared and all her days ran together and there was nothing separating the boxes. This mental image intrigued me so much. That looks a lot like eternity to me. If any book has spoken the most to me about life, I would have to say it is the book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible. Those twelve chapters have been my favorite because those existential questions are asked.
A great man with a supposed mental illness said it best, “Surely God would not have created such a being as man, with an ability to grasp the infinite, to exist only for a day! No, no, man was made for immortality.”
- Abraham Lincoln
I think we live in a world of insane people, and maybe we could learn a little something from the people we write off as having ‘gone mad.’ That’s why I just had to go this weekend. Call me crazy…
“All that we see or seem,
is but a dream within a dream” - Edgar Allen Poe
@ 2:05 am
haunted
A porcelain face, eyes blazing with energy
She kneads the claw marks on her back
(she’s gracefully irresistible)
Her mind is a labyrinth of mystery,
When she looks in the mirror she does not see herself.
Her blonde hair shuffles in a crystalline breeze
She has lived with this long enough
Every night it’s been the same
The clamor more horrendous, the murmurs louder
Whispers whisking across her face as she tries to sleep
The angel girl is an aura of perfection
“She’s mad at me,” she repeats
“Because I won’t do what she says.”
The creaking doesn’t startle her, nor does the chilling presence
The one that sits at the end of her bed.
@ 1:57 am
the noble vision that was merely a vision
Seemed like a vast open door that I’d fallen severely enamored with. As fantastic as it was, wrapped up in all its royal graciousness, it was a righteous hearts hope and nothing more.
“I think I would be extremely happy to know that I’m yours,” you had said.
You were a hope glistening on the infinite scope and I, as always, was so caught up in the magnificence of it, seeing only that…
The Vision started simple, perfect as you will, but later treacherously ravaging my imagination, frolicking wildly over the open expanses like a false enchantment under the muse of romance.
Foolishly I focused all my optimism on The Vision because nothing seemed more dignified than what it showed me.
Everything was spontaneous at first, but The Vision dimly flaunted what I swore was me and you, holding hands.
We lived epically and did things most people wouldn’t because to us nothing was a hassle, it was unconditional adventure.
The Vision sailed along, I watched us driving together, eating together, praying together, exploring together, sleeping together…
Your words resounded throughout The Vision, “Please have faith in me.”
And because my mind was so vulnerable to such idealism, I did.
Even though I shouldn’t have.
It’s because reality is no place for me and surely it’s no place for The Vision either.
Nevertheless, I let it take over,
(as I always do)
but this time was different, I swear
(just like all the other times).
There was so much to show each other, so much to talk about, so much missed time to catch up on, and for once what had been stashed and treasured for years finally began to reveal itself…
The Vision was such a bright light on the horizon, so captivating and prominent, but little by little I’d lose sight of it..
But before I let The Vision get totally carried away, I braced myself and did something I wouldn’t have normally, protecting and guarding my impractical heart.
Suddenly I discovered where exactly I was when I saw The Vision.
It was something I couldn’t catch in time and couldn’t capture, having no control over. All I could do was stand amazed, watching it as it vanished, splashing its fading glow against the shipwreck before me as I savored what I could see, while wishing it would’ve lasted.
And as the darkness encroached the very evening we finally did meet, and the light began to disappear that twilight, so did The Vision.
But that sunset was matchless!
@ 1:48 am
the noble vision that’s promised to come
Jesus,
I want to be molded into the man you want me to be for my future wife. I want to be worthy of her waiting and affection. I want my relationship with You to draw her toward me, and our relationship draw from and point toward You. Jesus, something has come over me, and I know it’s going to be hard but it’s time to wipe the slate clean today, to rise up out of this griminess that’s been holding me down and take hold of all You have for me. Today is the day that I start believing that everything I ever wanted is on its way, maybe not, surely not in the way I expect, but definitely on it’s way. You have already set these plans into motion, today The Vision is renewed, better than ever before.
@ 1:44 am
this is the sound of not settling
Someday, I hope to marry a girl who loves me enough to take big risks – who believes in me and is willing to ride the roller coaster of life together. I just know I’ll be a better man for it.
Delight yourself in God and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Can any other desire outmatch her?
Impossible.
There’s too much to give for all of it to be stored up for nothing.
But indeed it makes sense for it to be stored, stashed away for the girl who is to be my One. The one who will still go to concerts with me when we’re old and the crowd is young, the dreamer who will embark with me to the far ends of the earth, travel incredibly long distances to see each other even if it’s for an incredibly short amount of time, will laugh constantly at everything becauselife is freaking hilarious.
The best friend I’ve been waiting for to share life and God with
Our quirkiness will stand out; our love will be nothing but authentic and genuine.
Together, we’ll form a sight to behold
She will be my beautiful rescue.
And I will be hers.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that being nice and genuinely caring about someone isn’t appealing. Don’t hear me wrong, I’m sure that’s not true for all, but in all honesty girls are just as shallow as guys if not more so. Girls swear there are no good guys out there, and yet I can’t imagine how many they pass by throughout their lives in pursuit of the guys who crush them.
“Girls are afraid of being hurt by the good guys who would never hurt them, but perfectly willing to be hurt by the assholes who use them and hurt them every time” - Jason Worrell.
“You’re just too good of a friend.”
“You’re too much of a nice guy.”
The problem is I see the treasure in everyone.
What it comes down to is… I haven’t met someone willing to settle. There’s just too many good looking guys out there, too many opportunities that can’t be passed up. Too many jerk guys to date and then break up with and talk about how horrible they are. Too much fun to be had…
So here it goes, I’m not going to settle either.
What it comes down to is… There’s just too many good looking girls out there, too many opportunities that can be so easily passed up for something so much greater, too many callous girls to not waste my time with. Too much treasure that deserves nothing more than whom it’s destined for.
Like an unconnected puzzle piece, there is a perfect fit.
Has to be.
Call me naïve or ridiculously hopeful, whatever…..
I.
Don’t.
Care.
Because my heart is tired and doesn’t really want to look anymore. No, instead it wants something new, something never before desired..
My heart wants someone to find it.
Everyday this world is telling me I’m crazy. Sometimes they get me close to convinced, but just when I’m about to give in and believe their realist ways, I see her in my mind and am reminded…
That even just the idea of her is worth holding out for because…
She’s totally unbelievably worth it.
And even though every inch of me say it just can’t be so, these fairy tales don’t really happen, I have to hang on to the possibility, I have to say when I look at my letters to her,
“No, they do.”
There will be no settling until my treasure is found.
@ 12:58 am
when yellow leaves or none or few do hang
Is this what it all comes down to?
I should have thought more about this day while I still had some time.
It was inevitably going to come, why hadn’t I thought or prepared for it at all?
Shouldn’t we all prepare for it?
It’s the rain that scared me and brought to mind the wretched memories of my petrified past.
Reminiscences no human being should ever have to live with resonated inside my young, exposed and tormented psyche.
The downpour pounded harder and harder against the glass and I barely recognized my foggy reflection.
A sting of guilt pierced the pit of my stomach, churning the fluids as I played over in my head where I was and why I was there.
I didn’t want to be left in the car, but I didn’t want to go where it was taking me.
The vehicle turned left onto Pennhurst Road.
The day had a bleak grayness to it, with gaunt thundering clouds weighing heavy on the sky.
I turned to look at my suitcase.
It was small and carried my few personal belongings.
Just looking at it perverted my mind recalling past events.
It had been awhile since I’d spoken about anything.
The trauma was so deeply embedded inside my cold dead heart that it consumed my entire being and became my existence altogether.
My trembling hands reached for the metal handle, I could see my skeletal lifeless eye sockets staring back at me in the window’s reflection, gazing blankly into oblivion.
That was me.
“We’re almost there.
You are going to do well here.
I know you can recover.”
She spoke with such dreariness.
In reality the woman was clueless and she didn’t care or understand.
When she looked at me she just saw a small glimpse of the aftermath of a fallen human nature at its nastiest.
The monster inside me I just loved to deny.
It stalked and bit slices out of my life, always returning to strike again.
The monster intoxicated me.
It was me.
Even as I bled and hobbled, I preferred to believe that nothing had happened.
I had fallen victim to the blinding numbing disease that we all have.
Only mine had just fully culminated.
I was convinced there was nothing wrong.
But the sickness took over.
The ailment imbedded itself in my twisted heart while my chest swelled with pride.
Its chains tightened in unconscious slavery.
Her mind was too protected to know what was going on with me.
She drove pleasantly down the old familiar road lined with twisted skeleton trees that stood like hollow carcasses.
She had an apathetic view in mind for my future, feeling a sense of self pride, I could see it, and she wore it.
What help could she possibly be to me?
I was brought there because I was very sick.
No illness could stain as crimson as this ailing sin.
It would spread, surely it would spread.
I was no match for it; the wages would murder me.
First I was unaware of the monster, the infection.
But a light exposed the leprosy of my heart.
I tried covering the infirmity with excuses.
Nothing could hide the putrid blemish.
They said the place would make me better, but they didn’t understand that I wanted to do what I did and I wasn’t sorry yet.
I would always be scarred, never “well again.”
I was so far from where I wanted to be, never foreseeing that I’d end up there.
The car sped by barren fields on the right and left.
The gatherings in my mind intensified, the voices whisked across my face.
A silhouette of an abandoned farm house stood on top of a hill.
I closed my eyes to the rain and took a deep breath sinking back into the leather seat, eliminating the rough strain from my tense body.
How could I have let my contamination breed so out of control?
The place was for madmen.
I am a madman.
Oh God, I needed so much help.
First the sweat broke out, then clammy hands, I could feel it.
The acid in my stomach roiled.
Literally.
I wanted to open the car door but it was locked and we hadn’t come to a complete stop yet.
I wondered how I ended up there and what the hell had become of me.
I swore I wasn’t crazy, it was only once, but I wanted to do it again…
And maybe again after that.
A sudden glow flashed in-between the murky gray clouds and crackles exploded in the coldness.
The car stopped at a dead end, entering a much smaller road leading deep into the woods.
Mentally exhausted, I was completely unaware I would approach the institution that would be the rest of my condemned life.
The structure looked like it belonged at the entrance of Hell.
So mammoth and lengthy, with a colossal pasty clock tower looming down upon the lawn, casting a desolate shadow through the car window reminding me that time had swallowed me up…
When I opened the door a gust swept my face and chilled my puke stained lips.
Instantly drenched, I didn’t even attempt shelter.
I wanted to escape that place, and I hadn’t even set foot inside.
I could hear them talking about me.
They kept staring at me from the front veranda of the building, whispering.
I knew what I looked like standing there, vomit on my clothes, just taking the pelting rain.
A freak.
It was time I accepted who I probably was.
With my head held high I walked forward, slowly, accepting and embracing what would begin the new, dark, and final chapter of my life.
Here I am on the threshold of the end of this existence and the beginning of the next.
Life, how and what is it?
As here I lie in this stale chamber, dying by degrees, hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask, “Do I live, am I dead?”
