The Shower Is My Real Office (Part 1) – Mad Chaos: February 10, 1999

Where Thoughts Come Alive

Like a breath of fresh air, my thoughts are rampant in creation’s hand when I do take my last shower for the night. There is no other place I can think of that is more tranquil, more serene and more peaceful for my thoughts to start a flurry of thinking than that of my humble shower. Sure I could head out to an open field with only the birds chirping and the wind blowing to be the only noise and sure it is silent as I sit here in my room with only the computer’s fan humming but these noises I find to be a subconscious nuisance.

These sounds or these settings aren’t very quick to administer my thought process but as soon as I hear the water running in the shower my intellect is turned on. It’s just something about the calmly warm water that created enough noise not to be a nuisance and also shut off my thoughts far enough into subconscious thinking that I can put off all else but progressive thought.

The bath won’t do it for me, it’s far too silent that I can hear myself think and even though I am alone and warm my thoughts tend to drift off towards a blank state of mind, no thought at all but the job at hand. These thoughts that I am writing now are all derived from what I began in the shower, only to end the thought process here. If only I had a computer in the shower, how much thoughts could I possibly cram into that fifteen minutes, plenty.

Nevertheless, the shower is only a place to work out possibilities, to come up with structured plans of poetry, new ideas, new philosophies. It is here in this room or in a tranquil outing where the birds do chirp that I will find the rest of my mind’s lost treasure, the finishing notes of an already half completed song. The structuring has always been there due to my instigating thoughts in the shower, the representation is now…

An Uninvited Card Game

Another night it has been without much to do and if it had not been for Shawn and Tatton coming over tonight just before midnight I would have had nothing to write for or to show for in this here, my Diary. Nevertheless, their passage to my Diary’s pages I could have gone without as it comes to say, it could have been a better outcome if I had for this night been a hermit. The way I see it, there were two conclusions to my night. The first conclusion being what has just eventuated with Shawn and Tatton coming over until 1:00 a.m. where we played cards.

This I done so that I could still have some intellectual philosophy left in my mind and not forgotten for these pages here tonight. Let’s hope that their visit didn’t stop what could have been evident if they didn’t bother my thought process tonight. The second conclusion would have been if they didn’t come over tonight and the possibilities. For one, I was prepared to take a shower as they showed up to my house and I feel that if I did thoughts of poetry would have bloomed and without another thought in my mind poetry would already be among us in these pages tonight.

Therefor, for my poetical progress I feel that being alone tonight would have bettered my chances as now I feel to write poetry but for poetry’s feel I don’t possess. However, I do feel as if poetry like noted, has started to flow in my veins and this periodical high can only last as long as has been allocated on my mental cycle. For the next fortnight I will in my heart hold poetry’s pride and in this mind I will with his hand wield those mighty words.

A Dark Room Problem

Tuesday once again started very late for me and I don’t know when these lengthy starts began but I will tonight find that out, that’s for sure. My day began at 4:15 p.m. because I kept myself awake until around 8:00 a.m. When I did finally wake up I had myself something to eat from upstairs and within no time the food made me tired again. Apart from the food making me tired I believe that this room is detrimental to me being an active person as there is no real light getting in, only artificial light.

This lack of real light tends to keep me in a lazy mood and I know that if I probably slept in any of the rooms upstairs I would be waking up much earlier and having more of an active day. Alas, my room is downstairs and to relocate would be too much personal relocation. Thus, this dormant and somber room delivers such emotions and actions from myself.

No Call Tonight

The second time I woke up was around 5:15 p.m. and as I did I started watching the news, usually my first show of the day. For the rest of the day was allocated to eating, watching television and lounging downstairs in preparation for a modest night’s philosophy but that fell through as Shawn and Tatton came over. Tonight I once again haven’t called Lyssa and in as many days this has now happened twice.

What was once such a ceaseless tradition in the form of keeping contact daily has now months after our break up become forlorn once too often. The reason I didn’t call Lyssa tonight was that I didn’t really have much to talk to her about. Lyssa is usually the one that has something to mention of her day but I guess tonight she didn’t and that’s why we didn’t share our reflections tonight.

The Lost Years Sonnets

To jump out into the deep now and to use a name that I feel should not be used in this rejuvenation after the lost years I will as I must. Actually, I will refer to this female person as a partisan creator of the lost years, the one that wasn’t involved in calling me tonight and has from my thoughts been disowned as such. Of her I speak of my poetry last month that was rightly labeled ‘The Lost Years Sonnets’ and I mean to say that I no longer feel strongly enough to write a great Sonnet for such.

This I feel is because last month I held remnants of thoughts and emotions regarding her where in truth they were nothing but in factuality, they were enough of a thought to produce an embellishing Sonnet or two. Tonight I can’t in my right mind think of poetry and her at the same time, it just doesn’t add together. Lately and for this year I haven’t seen but a flicker of a thought regarding her but this month, I have had nothing and therefor, no poetical fodder.

Counting My Sonnets

As the hours of the morning draw closer to extinction will I find my touch and will tonight herald another Sonnet to my name. Numerous poems of different stature and significance I have written over the years counting to well over 50 individual poems but Sonnets, I have created 26 in proper format thus far. Seventeen of them are scriptable I believe for publishing where the rest are just scraps of my mind’s reflective nature. Tonight, if poetry was in my name then I would with my other nights work attend it.

By this I mean that I will resort as I have done once before in past poetical works to lines already written and philosophized her in my Diary waiting to be exploited in Sonnet form. Tonight shall probably be one of those nights but, if it is good enough to label for ‘The Lost Years Sonnets’ then I must but I fear for a second grade attempt if that. I want ‘The Lost Years Sonnets’ to be of recognition for their philosophical structure, to be of my good mentality and intellectually sound. Thus, if I write tonight and of Sonnet form, I have but that decision of my poetical perfectionism to make, to label or not to label.

A Quiet Month Ahead

Will this month be shorter in depth as opposed to the last couple of months. That I will not be able to answer until the month has almost closed its doors to us but I can see this month as being less significant to my life’s degree as the preceding month or the succeeding future. This month shall but a lapse of time make itself where the only jovial nature will be the smiling faces of these poetical lines above the rest. This month to the rest of the world will mean naught but to my poetical skeleton shall be the enriching calcium, one can only hope.

Speaking now of a different subject-matter, people that read this Diary’s past could tend to say that I started writing more explicitly about my sexual endeavors because I was trying to savor what’s left of my sexual life but, that’s not true. Rather, I tried to embrace what I was otherwise too embarrassed or afraid to reveal to my Diary and possibly to the public.