Basia Bulat // Before I Knew

You always think that you’ll be the best something.The best at math, the best tennis player, the best artist, the best at persuading people to give you free stuff – the best choice for someone else. And then there comes the day when you realize you’re second best, if that. And those visuals of trophies or dream jobs or holding the hand of the person you thought you were perfect for, well, those fantasies dissolve. And you soon begin to realize that you may never be the winner in any situation. you may just be the one who almost made it to the finish line first, or the “wrong-time wrong-place” person.

So the way you rationalize things in your mind slowly changes. You come to face that you are average and the thought of being on top – be it hooking up the hottest guy, getting with your best friend’s crush, keeping secrets hidden because you feel empowered, or trying your hardest to make yourself famous in modern media culture – well, it sort of fades away. It doesn’t matter anymore because you’ve gained valuable insight that you may not be aware of. So I’m going to tell you flat out what you have now that many other’s around you don’t.

You stopped competing.

Most likely you were unaware that your actions and decision making was a form of competition. But once you found yourself on the second-tier within your friends, lovers, coworkers – whatever – you stopped giving a shit if you were going to be the best/win/finish on top. Being burned and feeling defeat over and over made you realize one of two things: One, you can only trust yourself and never forget it in life. Two, you realize you could switch your thinking to bigger-picture social policy and cultural agenda.

And these societal ordinances end up getting the best from you because you stopped running in the rat-race for social fame. You break the habit of exploiting yourself to fight for the top-spot on the social ladder. And inadvertently, you then have removed yourself from inconsequential matters. And the point of it all is that once this happened, you acknowledged that what The Beatles alway preached in their pop-gushy songs was all you really need is love. And your heart widens uncontrollably. And you start to forgive and love despite all of the shit that you have to deal with from other people. But it’s not their fault so many of them are blindly (or very, very strategically aware) competing to be the best. This new world has crafted egos and manipulated us to embellish our happiness on social platforms that in so many ways have corrupted our most natural state of being. It’s robbery to the point of fraud.

And you realize that your happiness can always be remembered in nature and Mother Earth. You feel it in the heat of the summer with a blanket of stars above, and your feet can feel it even on the coldest day in New York City as the windchill tickles your cheeks. Because innately you are removed from caring about superficial capers. And now you’re brain is clear and free to munch on social gains that will actually benefit widespread cultural issues and not just a 2×4 box on your homepage with your 140 characters to build upon.

This is freedom. Not so much being “above” anything, but instead being on a entirely different communicative and philosophical plane. You are running in the wild free world now instead of investing most of your time on pages and likes, one-upping and empowerment, that is solely based on “winning” or beating others. And this is you at your best because you are done trying to find fame and popularity in meaningless prospects. If you feel me  by now, you should be smiling widely and loving yourself wholly.

Jukes // Something Important

You’re not mad at me, are you? I don’t know, you just seem like you’re acting weird. Look, how am I supposed to have an answer for you. I try the best way I know how. I’m realistic.

Today was the first day my house felt like home.
New York felt like my cushion that sort of props me up in bed. I was able to just sit and chill with some music and a friend. She was talking about music and girls she thought were soo beautiful. We had pasta and ate well in high spirits. I was thinking about that time at b’s that we finally did it but the door was open and your friend was sort of putting his shoes on in the other room. The craziest chills I got from you slightly putting it in before having to pull out really quickly before your friend saw us. You know we didn’t leave on bad terms. No one had said a serious “fuck off” yet in a screaming match. We only ever did that when we wanted to play with each other, me more than you.

Look. I’m into you. I really like you. I want to pick up right where we left off and just keep going in that direction. And I want to have ten thousand more memories with you so that I’ll have an actual number to count to so that this time I can figure something out before our time runs out. I would too. I’d choose you over everything else if I knew how bad I’d actually be hurting with you not here. This isn’t just like, “oh, he’s gone, that really sucks.” It’s more of a you’re not here so how many different ways can I try to make myself forget. And forgetting is harder than just admitting that I can’t really keep this up much longer.

It’s been some time now and you’re still heavy on my mind. Every time I ask you if you feel this too, you tell me I think too much. And then I feel like I did something wrong while feeling shitty about the person I am. And it makes me not like you as much because I’m not sure if you will ever just let me think without shaking your overwhelmed head. That’s important to me, you know. And I’m fucking sick of saying, “Well, your happiness is all that matters to me.” What lesson am I trying to preach this time? And to who? It’s pulling at me left and right, actually tearing me down this seam deep in my chest that physically thumps when I think about you being happy with someone else, scarier, without me.

I feel like I should mention that the other night I had this dream about your ex-girlfriend. She was playing this old vintage film from a projector on the side of her house, not recognizing that everyone on the street could see. Basically that scene from Problem Child if you even know the reference. But the film she had on was pictures of all my two best friends as she and her bitchy girlfriend laughed and pointed. And then my picture scrolled across the wall and she laughed harder just as you were walking into the room. And you sort of rolled your eyes and told her to turn it off as you set a tray of food down for them. And it didn’t matter to your ex that you had told her to cut the shit because she knew that in a few minutes tensions would settle and she’d be able to snuggle up in the nook where your chin and neck meet. And this dream has turned into an entire day’s nightmare, one that didn’t frighten me as much as shake my insides. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day long.

What we had was from another planet, so why are we just letting it go? I made you smile more in a day than in the past few months of your life. It was like finding out that you were born under a lunar eclipse the day I called you a moonperson. Or how about the night I met you, catching a bouquet and walking into a bar that I’d already written off. That wasn’t where we were supposed to meet, you know? We were there on accident, or purpose with poor planning. Because we never did get our chance to tear eachother apart while we were still in it. And now all we’re doing is at picking at the scab of what could’ve been. But I’m not mad at you. I’ll stop worrying about why you’re treating me like this because I know it’s easier to be mean to the people we care about, but can’t be with. I’ll take all of your whiplash until you’ve run out. Maybe then I’ll have enough in me to entirely forgive you.

My Morning Jacket // Wordless Chorus

How come musicians are some of the worst dancers? They create the entire show. Actors and actresses in costumes pretending to move that way naturally. It seems a little forced considering no one who warrants attention actually seeks it. It’s just a natural phasing.

And why are we awkwardly linked to people we accidentally become best friends with. Like hey! It’s orientation week and I have no friends, so I’ll cling to you because you also are friendless. Then we pair off inseparably for a two week span before finding our more realistic click, trying hard to forget the former bond just to erase the embarrassment.

Too many people I do this one too. I’ll figure them all out before actually meeting them – see them around, listen to them speak while in the same class, trying to not look in their emerald eyes when I see them in person even though I’ve seen like ten-thousand pictures on my computer. It’s weird how we live. Because then you meet these enigmas in real-life and they usually sort of suck. But it’s hard to really forgive yourself for thinking they were something greater than their reality.

Sometimes I think about why I like lace too. Lace feels best on my breasts. Every slight movement in lace makes for a caressing, faint massage. Especially in sensitive regions, it can be quite pleasurable. I like to dress up for myself sometimes. Wear my raciest underwear to a mundane work day, sometimes even to the gym. I like pretending I’m a lot of things, but maybe I need to start understanding that I’m not playing house – maybe this is my real life and my real mannerisms.

I once saw a video of myself and it was at first intimidating because I was talking to a fake audience at my camera. But I kept replaying the video because I really liked dissecting my lips and my decanting slur that I realized, maybe I just like myself.

And I do. Enough to know when to give what you are given. Thus, cleaning out a rusted refrigerator, sharing the dinner I then made, while beforehand, smoking up my roommates. Something had to give, and it was me.

Feel good always even if you’re chorus isn’t as wordless but as pointless as can be. At least you’re free.

Born To Die // Lana Del Rey

Lana Del Rey.

Where your voice takes me is somewhere in a field of sunflowers running barefoot and blindly. The air is soft and my mind is in the heavens spinning in figure 8’s. I’m dying in pleasure. Every fiber of my skin tingles with thousands of nerve-endings working overtime. Buzzing, waving, swimming around in my veins are bursts of colors and radiations that only my eyes and his can see. We are lost in this eternal field, abandoned only to the bliss of this exact moment. Each second is ten-thousand rainstorms sizzling hot pavement with puddles cooling the skin of our feet. He brushes my shoulder with his finger and as soon as he leaves I go into withdrawl.

How can I live here forever I wonder. I don’t want to go but the moon is knocking on sky’s door asking to be let in, if only for a peak. I love the moon too!  but I want this day to mark the calendar every year. So I keep running with the air as my sleigh into the forbidden saga that has become my effervescent mind.

I once was called out for my philosophical questions. These thoughts were too outlandish for him. I liked him too much to tell him that that one sentence forever contaminated the secret garden I had been tending to so he didn’t have to leave. But my daydreams were starting to corrupt my reality and I had to cease all measures before they escaped forever. So as he questioned my overextended thoughts I swallowed it as a blessing for still loving him through and through.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.