I am spilled and poured, I am peeled and cored.

A million things:

First, hi.  Which is funny because the whole reason I made a new Vox is because the amount of hits on my MySpace blog was getting creepy.  So hardly anyone knows I have this.  And I kinda missed it here.

Also, my heart really hurts right now reading about Gustav and the people who have died.  Sometimes I feel guilty because I'm actually alright.  Why doesn't a tree fall on ME and kill ME?  It isn't fair.

Then, there's a stray kitty I look after.  She's mangy and there is something wrong with her, but I just love her and want her really bad :(  I made a little shelter for her out of a covered litter box, I put a blanket inside and hope she'll go in there for shade or to keep warm but I don't know.  Someone eats the food I leave out.  I hope it's her.  She runs away from me.  Fireworks exploded outside awhile ago and the first thing I thought of was how I hoped poor kitty wasn't too afraid.

I was recently introduced to Haruki Murakami.  I read a book review and was like, okay.  I have to get this for someone right now.  And since then I've been reading excerpts here and there from various works, and I'm fucking sprung on this.  When I read this:

"Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time. It's only a natural feeling."

I thought, I'm not losing my mind.  I'm not losing it after all.  Because I've felt that way since 250 B.C. and feeling sad when you should be crazy/ecstatic in love or on your way kind of takes your gravity away.  But, somehow.

As I read on, I found several more quotes relating to death that had the effect of a prescription-available-only-in-mexico muscle relaxer on me because okay.  Because.  Ugh.  Society tries to tell us that it's okay to die.  Life insurance, burial plans, elaborate funerals doubling as family reunions.  But because it's natural and inevitable, does that make it okay?  Does it really?  It's natural and inevitable that psychos who go on murder sprees will be born and inflict their horror on makind, but does that make it alright?  All I'm saying is that I'm not okay with it.  And I'm tired of people trying to make me believe that it's fine.

"I can't understand nothingness. I can't understand it and I can't imagine it."

"I know I should buy my own suit, but somehow I never get around to it. I feel as though if I buy funeral clothes I'm saying that it's OK if somebody dies."

"Losing my mother was a real shock to [my father]. I mean, it made him a little cuckoo. That's how much he loved her. Really."

"So that's how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us - that's snatched right out of our hands - even if we are left completely changed people with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness."

I want a brand of love that only the brave and the slightly off-kilter ever manage to grasp.  I want to live forever.  I never knew it'd be such a huge fucking deal.  And if I can't have immortality, then I at least want that love.  I will negotiate with death after that.

<3r