prose

breaking and shattering
are the things
done best
in a world where
the formed and molded
strive
and create.

consistent

 I sit here with a blanket over one shoulder and a digital screen looking back at me. There are crackers and water on my desk along with a blank canvas and paints to mix. The paint brushes look at me with a sense of loneliness. USB cords wander about the desktop. A computer mouse sits freely near the edge. And I stay, behind the screen, perpetually the user.

I am the scraps of a wrapper. The contents of me are inflated with advertisement. made up of the only thing a person can own, imagination. Even if that imagination is the essence of reality. I cover the substance that I advertise, but yet I still have no knowledge of what I am. Goldfish crackers I can relate to but people ...

Am I a broken mold of American society. People can relate, but can't empathize. Daily relations show me in a light foreign to my own perspective. I am nothing, yet when I am introduced I am something. I have no self sustaining mechanism. similar to first world power grids. i rely on a feeding of natural resources from my environment. yet i am told i am normal. so as humans, do we only feed. breaking the chain of predation to create the consumer.

i am tired.

of being.

yet i long for a sense of acceptance.

this conundrum is what creates my self awareness.


if i had the power i would ask humanity to take a step backward. to look at history. to look at consequence. to look at the essence of reality that they live in. and i would ask 'What for?' what do you do that for. what do you love for.  what do you live for.

pondering these questions is a habit. chronologically i place each answer in order. from my own experience. and i realize the fruitless endeavor. that being searching for truth, when truth is subjective.

really, the only thing i want. what i want. is someone to share my perspective with. who doesn't hesitate to share back to mother perspective. aka a girlfriend.

Easter Sunday

I'm the sound guy on the revered day.

a girl

for brevity's sake, i'm the only one who will know who i am talking about so i will use her name. Emile. not her last name though cause that would be pretty uncourteous. 

But i met her through an online dating website. we hung out a couple times. spent some intimate time together. and now she is on her way to different things. but she gave me one thing that most are afraid to give themselves, and that is honesty. 

the time we spent together was short. and i wouldnt say she became overly fond of me. but to be fair, her plate is full with life and taking on a new person with baggage enough to fill the cargo hold of a 747 would be in abundance of ignorant ambition. 

i see her every where i go, though. i think about her. i dream about her. i wouldnt say im in love with her. but then, i wouldnt say i have a complete understanding of what it is to be in love. she didnt meet what i had set as my standards for the type of girl i want. 

but that is the exact reason she attracts me so much. 

she is unapologetically fierce in expressing who she is and what she wants. at least she was with me. there were no eggs to be stepped on around her. her ambitions drove her to carry an ambivalence toward the things that had nothing to do with her goals. yet she let her natural impulses drive her day to day. she was real. and she was honest. 

i wont go into detail about her personal life, or any real details about her other than what i shared. but she gave me what i have been wanting so badly. objective honesty. albeit, her opinionated personality could sometimes plow right over me. but in the end i knew it was honest. honest from her view. 

i told her my story. the things i have done. suicide and everything. and instead of offering a tit to suckle on and swaddling me, she held out her hand and gave mine a firm shake. its weird to state it that way. but i think its metaphorically accurate. 

due to life, she has asked me to cease and desist contact. of which feels similar to amnesia. i feel like i finally remembered something but forgot it again. and of course i dont want her to exit my life. but i dont think i am in a position to tell people how to live their own life when mine consists going from one stepping stone to the next. so i must abide. even though i want nothing but to be around her. 

but in the short time i spent with her, she has influenced me greatly. i look up to her. i want more people like her to fall into my life, just as she did. and i want to be able to give people what she gave me. 

its weird to think about relationships. you pick a person, and then you spend time with them. you could pick anybody in the world, but you end up picking the same type of people to surround yourself with. Emile wasnt the type of person i surround myself with. but she is exactly what i wanted. and although she doesnt want to continue the relationship we had, in the short time we got to know each other she made a honest impression on me. and a valid and verifiable change has taken place in my perspective of how i interact with people.  

and i am taking what she gave to me. i guess, a life lesson about how to breath honesty in the same air where other people may be breathing courteousness or manners. im not saying im going to run around with my middle finger in the air. 

im just saying that the honesty Emile gave me was freshening. although some what cold, it let me experience the brisk mental feeling of clarity of thought. like she respected me enough to tell me what she really thought instead of telling me what she thought i needed to hear. 

and honestly, i miss her already. 

expressively neutral

It has taken me some time, but i think it is past due. no more than a few months ago i attempted suicide through means of playing russian roulette.  before the attempt, i had earned myself a DUII cause i had been drinking too much, for far too long, with far to little responsibility taken upon myself for such actions. although the two correlate in timing, reasoning for each differs. but given the timing and a small attention to detail, putting the blame on a DUII rather than loneliness made sense. It would give the people who cared something to blame, and the people who didn't care a valid excuse for their negligence. 

it just made sense; to a person where causing one's own death has been a valid option. 

but, obviously, i lost my perilous game of russian roulette (or what multiple therapists consider winning, but when given thought to the action of russian roulette and the comprehension that it is a game where there is one player with one objective, i certainly did lose). the amount of support that followed in wake of my self served death ticket expounded upon an already massive amount of guilt that added to the chronic depression i am now 'coping' with. not saying it is something i have no appreciation for. i am just saying im not quite sure the route in which to navigate to get to the feeling where appreciation is genuine. 

more about the attempt later, right at this second it is past midnight. my brain seems to not want sleep. my body doesnt care, so i find myself clapping the letter keys of my laptop keyboard with the pads of my fingers in an attempt to put a mushy, undefined blob of thought into coherent, yet simple sentences. but dont let me run on and on.      

things float into my thoughts, like an eye floater when starring at a clear, blue summer sky. i can feel the compression of focus toward one area of thought, but when i try to direct my full attention at that opaque sense of understanding it recedes past the parameters of my conscious. it is not quite rational for me to become frustrated by not being able to have thoughts i haven't fully thought yet, but i am. in a quiet way. 

but there is a constant in every concept i happen to conceive in my maliciously passive brain. a choosing of sides, of sorts. actually more of a lack of choosing sides. 

human beings are funny; they(or i guess we) are the only animal to cognitively process and produce humor. therefore, humans are funny. but whats funny is the fact that most humor is a layer of contemplation about the things that hurt, or discomfort. a way of processing the things in which direct contact would paralyze. not to say its a mask or coping method, which it can be, but it is a step in processing experience. it is, so to say, in everything. 

so cliche. 

but, directing myself to a point of interest for this blog, humor is the invisible line where maturity and immaturity, sincerity and insincerity — or possibly — comfort and discomfort meet. i live on this line, because i have no understanding of it. well, i mean yes, i cognitively can apply the definition to application of the word in a sentence and know the social expectations of when is too much and when is too little. but where i fall lacking of knowledge, given the topic of humor, is why it creates tension when i cross said lines. in every circumstance, without fail, a certain amount of tension follows when i make a distasteful joke. and the same amount of tension, on the opposite side of what it feels like to be uncomfortable, follows when i take something too serious comparatively to those who surround me. i dont understand this dynamic. this possession of thought people call 'taking it to far.' 

for me, when i apply the social standards of anger or joy to humor, i end up crossing the line. this makes humor special. creating an obsolete standard where every other emotion is concerned. creating a psychotic obsession of not necessarily being funny, but finding everyones so to speak 'humor comfort zone,' where that invisible line is never crossed. when i find this line of good and tasteful humor, which happens to be individual for every person, i feel in a small way connected to them, through understanding about them, by what it is they take seriously and what it is they can laugh at. 

maybe that's why, when talking to someone with a 'mental illness,' they dont match the level of volume you laugh at. or they continue laughing for too long. or they carry on a joke for what seems like hours. 

or maybe, given humor is generally accepted as creating a welcoming atmosphere, there needs to be a redefinition of whats funny so when people who may not have such an acute sense of humor let loose a barrage of slangs, filled with puns, wrapped up in a knock knock joke, for what most definitely is 30 minutes too long, the people around them will understand, 'oh, he has an obtuse sense of humor,' and every one can laugh and go on their merry way. 

or maybe i am just taking this too far. 

I'm killing myself

Don't be disconcerted by the title. Read my thoughts, understand my reasoning, and realize you probably need to kill yourself too. 

My self loathing has become something of habit. Each day i think about something i want to do, have done, or will do in the future and i hate myself for it. I analyze the essence of those things and realize its nothing i want to be a part of, but yet i still participate, resulting in the inevitable outcome of hating myself. everyday this happens. And each day it becomes easier to reason with the thought of suicide.    

... but such a waste. to think of ending one's own life is essentially the same as to end tangible existence as a whole because there is no general understanding of the after life, so if you end your life you end your individual paradigm and understanding of the world. so to kill myself would be to say i give up on everything. even the things that bring me the most happiness and joy, like love, like stalking an elk during a hunt, like forgetting everything with enjoying family and just laughing. 

but im still going to kill myself. i going to end my life as i know it. even if the people who care about me most object. because im done with this monotonous unhappiness that is a result of my self loathing. 

"'...i encourage you to kill yourself, especially if it's something you think about. but by no means kill your physical being. kill the things about yourself that cause you the most unhappiness. kill those things, and start new. kill those things and forget the torment that is brought by clinging to what you know.'" - Archies Final Project, the movie. 

so my heart wont stop beating. so my diaphragm wont stop pulling air into my lungs. so my brain wont stop connecting electric currents that create my thoughts. 

but i am killing myself. 

there are too many things that happen every single day, in each life on this earth, to say that my unhappiness is worth ending that, for outcome of potential experiences of everyone else. but the things i hate about myself need to end. I want them to end. its essentially the reason i live right now, is to make those things end. so i am going to. 

piece by piece i am going to kill myself. so i can start a revolution in my own psyche to value the things i value and realize that it is my own choice to hang onto the things that make me so unhappy. so unjoyful. so uncontent. so im killing myself. to the literal meaning of the word except my physical being will not stop operating. and after i kill myself i can gain anew the values that bring me happiness. that bring meaning to my life. and from there i can build a life that means more than hating the existence i live in. 

to this point i challenge all my readers to analyze their self, analyze their unhappiness, analyze their finite life and realize that killing yourself is the most beautiful thing you can do. 

It's meaning is to take what you have learned throughout your life, apply it, and create yourself anew. 

so i am going to kill myself. 

to the very marrow that runs in my bones i am going to kill myself. 

because, not only do i want this, but the people who care about me, to the people in my life, you deserve a Colby Brown who doesn't place his self loathing thoughts above all else. 

and although the the thought itself is morbid, the act is essential to creating a progressive reality. changing yourself according to the experiences you have had. essentially capitalizing on the amount of life you have already lived so the remainder of your life is better. 

unhappiness equated to the amount of expectations that arent met. once you expect an outcome, your essential needs and wants become intertwined with what you expect to experience. 

To give and example is, you go to mcdonalds and eat a mcdouble. If you have a set amount of expectations, they aren't going to be met because as humans we expect more than we can deliver on. So despite the amount of flavor and information sent through your taste buds and the amount of elation your body wants to have from the act of eating a delicious hamburger, your expectations draw your psyche away from the experience and make you want something that would, in no situation, be tangible. If instead you just enjoyed the ketchup, the meat, the cheese, the bun, the pickles, then happiness would be as simple as looking at a mcdouble. 

but yet, so many people dont take this paradigm of the negative effects of expectation and apply it. 

This essentially is the reasoning behind why i have self loathing and why i am killing myself. 

and why i encourage you to do so as well. 

its time to drop the expectation that your life should be better and realize that your life has never been better. 

to live a life where meeting expectations of external happiness is a necessity is more of a waste than to kill your physical being. 

   

rugged

When you look in the mirror, are you honest with yourself? or do you lie, make yourself believe a unconstructed lie and let it build upon itself the rest of the day. or do you have the understanding to do both and know when you do both and control when you do both.

consciousness is the acceptance that the reality your living in is the only reality you know, so you live in it. So why is there the want to not live fully in the thing we know and search for something that cant be understood. a different paradigm, dimension, etc. there is so much that is still unknown about life, but billions of humans just live, fighting each other for food, power, money, territory. how is there not a unified understanding that in acceptance of individuality comes the endless potential for humans to do anything? If grudges were dropped, and history accepted for what it is, *being something that has already happened and will never again be able to be effected no matter how skewed it gets written down, think of the possibility of 8 billion humans minds working together.

to have this thought whole heartedly makes living, hell. and its all because of one thing, an individuals inability to accept ones own individuality. to know and understand that you are and forever will be alone in this life, and then accepting that as fact.

the question 'do you see red the same color as i see red' can never be answered correctly. thus proves that no one will ever experience your life the way you experienced it. making every single human individual. making every human alone in there experiences. yeah you can relate to things and understand, but no one will ever have the same experience. knowing and understanding this, meaning you understand this not only for yourself but others, gives you a certain freedom of mind that simplifies the cravings of life into a non essential. and lets you think about stuff. almost to much.

... all of this is how my mind works by the way.

But what I'm getting at is that, since no one else can experience the exact experiences you have then why is there such an effort to be accepted by other humans when you haven't even accepted yourself? i wish i could express what i mean in a better way, but a metaphor is this: A dream is always almost unexplainable to those who weren't in it, so when you dream its only yours. in this sense, life is a dream because only you can experience your life.

life no longer has value. sure, it has a dollar sign attached, a years span attached, maybe a label of what others think as good. but no one values the fact that their life is individual to all others to and ever will be in existence.

and its obvious in the way people live.

Secondarily

It's in me again
the dread of life
realization that everything is moldable
but no one wants to ever except it
like a pool of mud
no one steps in it
all about food
cars
money
phones
apps
gas
status
it disgusts at the simplest level
the human in me, wanting everyone else to join
a septic pool of blood
filling the void
that 'life' has created
no one wants
only consume
a wet dripping stinky charred piece of cow fat
or hamburger
gets devoured without the thought of
the years
effort
energy
that took place before
the mere
mention of
such would be
a death of an appetite
to be, or not
is  no longer a question
but a statement
no one i know wants to be
the limitless endeavor in which
the human life
has potential
or growing
beyond
imagination
because of
the need to
consume

Writing.

blue, like a crayon, like a wet paint brush, like spilled food coloring on the counter. Except none of those can compare because all of those are feeble attempts to recreate the deep, vast, blue expanse that is the sky. no matter how concentrated you stare at the sky you never really see its true color. which can probably be said about many things.

its weird, how superficial everything can feel when you have no required set of commitments to live up to. instead, just on the outside of everything, you can observe and learn just by simply watching.

scatter shot, its how my brain is working.

its hard to comprehend how people can get so bent out of shape over simple things. like witnessing a person throw a 400 dollar cell phone on the asphalt of a parking lot because there was no 4G reception.

or similarly, that 'i-just-peed-my-pants' feeling after yelling at a store clerk cause they double charged you on a $1.99 item. all this pent up aggression, its like a looming cloud ready to unleash its fury of lightning.  What For?

i dont know if it is a twenty something-year-old phase, but i wish i lived in a utopia. where there was a general understanding that if you didn't die that day, from the millions of ways a person could randomly die, then there isnt really anything else to get upset about. like having the understanding that living for the experience not the expectation is the much better of the two.

it all seems superfluous if a person cant truly feel that moment of tantrum during a midnight shopping spree, racing to get the last tickle me elmo and instead is only concentrated on what their receipt tells them in the morning. because when they walk away, all they really have are bags full of shit that will eventually get thrown out. but they will always have that experience.

i guess im just tired of being a part of the never-ending cycle that is paycheck-->spend-->work-->paycheck. i wanna go build a log cabin in some unexplored mountain range with a beautiful woman and become the epitome of what would happen if a mountain man and a tye-dye hippie fusioned like Vegeta and Goku in Dragon Ball Z to form Gogeta.

A Salty road trip

Four Corners

Sunset

Sunrise

More rising

La Grande Canyon

the sky is also grand

I love lamp

Dear oh deer

what fatty mcfattersons

rocks

neat tree

how does it grow?

Colorado River

wild purple flowers

green bush

twisty wood

the illusive big horn

Zion National Park

tis super pretty

turing red at night

little river

big canyon

Great Salt Lake Salt flats

salty sunset

Salty Vastness

(untitled)

yrteop

its hits like 
an egg on cement
from 30 stories up
takes your breath away 
slowly
like a house fire
it cuts deep
not like a knife
but a deafening cold
chilling you 
in the depths of bone
when it strikes
like lightening
you can't help 
but to wait
for it to strike again
holding your breath
you wait
to take the plunge
like a free fall
but not to the unknown
you fall in to a trance 
of hope 
that you can capture 
and loop that single moment
into a forever 
existence
as if an immovable object 
and unstoppable force
agreed that 
gravity 
never existed, 
a blink
a second glance 
leaves a wonder 
if they felt the
same

Smokey Sunset

 Red spot

 No Clouds, all smoke

 creep on creepin'

 S'more smokey

 way to smokey

 Artsy fartsy editing

 bye

Oregon on Fire

 Brake Lights

 Lightning

 On a Hill

Grainy 

pretty close

Lost Oregon

 Missed sunset

 Sunrise Highway

 Never ending train

 Oregon Farms

Rafting River 

 Old Bridge 

 Sky

 Canyon

 Arches

 Long Fall

New Bridge

Bacon

Seeing people you once knew but dont really know anymore is kind of a weird experience. but then again so can seeing people you see everyday. its really just context. 

so i am back to living where i did a while ago. its pretty much the same. but the people are different. same with me. but to an extent i guess that doesnt really matter. it's just the kind of effect how changed a person is that determines if it truly means anything. like a person could leave home to a restaurant with out their family eat and come home and not need dinner anymore, but their family still would. in the end though, they all ate.  

its kind of that for me. learning how to be sensitive to how hungry people are is the hard part. 

~ just a point of interest for anyone who smokes wishes to smoke or has smoked, it is very hard to quit. its not just the nicotine either. its more of the habit that makes it difficult. i guess they could make a new mental disease like restless leg syndrome and call it restless smoker hand syndrome and make up some crazy drug that is really just a placebo. make billions while helping people quit. ... oh, wait. 

bacon and eggs are really good. i probably cook that the most. but my menu is a sparse two item list so thats not saying much. but what is so amazing about bacon and eggs is that you can't exactly screw it up. even if you cant crack an egg properly, you never really notice if there is shell in an egg. and its not even that bacon and eggs taste that good, its the simple salty, burnt, meaty smell that engulfs the whole house after a plate of bacon is cooked up. I'm not totally sure how Mr. Bacon invented bacon, but i thank him. 

job hunting is kind of an adventure. there are times when your stressed, times when your happy, times when you seem kind of lost and times when nothing really makes sense. which doesnt make sense because you always end up with the same thing, even if you don't get the job you want, you end up with a group of people you tolerate doing something you can tolerate doing for ten hours a day for a tolerable amount of compensation. it would make more sense if a person could be more tolerable of their emotions when seeking employment. 

coming home also has this other aspect which has confounded me, and that is loneliness. not a bad kind of loneliness, but the kind of feeling you get when you start hanging out with a new group of people and you still dont quite know anyone but they still want you around. but your still lonely cause they are still pretty much strangers. 

i miss music, i miss doing something during the day, i miss the friends i made, i miss the beach, but im back in a place that i missed when i had all of those things. one thing i still miss  from home is the mountains, the forest, the solitude of listening to wind sing through pine needle twenty feet above your head, how fresh the air feels, how crisp everything operates. but that is a simple fix, one that takes a couple hours to fix. i just need my car. 

i think what brought me back to oregon hasn't shown itself to me. but all i know is that i can say i feel joyful to be back. which makes everything good. i dont really know what it is either. 

Central Oregonian

It's Good to be home. 

Now, all i need is a job.

 Jakey

 Sprinkles

 Sailor Man

Home 

 Hammock

 Sunny Rocks

 Bendy River

 White Sky

 Rough wood

Smith's Rocks