#insomnia diary

[loveinquotesposts]

https://loveinquotes.com/truth-about-lovei-apologize-for-not-being-gandhi-or-tom-the-mailman-who-is-always-kind-he-makes-his-way-every-day-no-matter/

Truth About Love"I apologize for not being Gandhi or Tom           the mailman who is always kind.He makes his way every day no matter           the mood of the sky with our wordsin a sack and Gandhi made the English           give India back withouttaking a gun for a wife. My contribution           to the common good is playingwith the alphabet in a little room           while the world goes foragingfor food. I’m a better poet than man           and it’s well known how littlemy verbs are worth. I am my only subject,           being the god of my horizons.What saves me is that just beyond my skin           the world of yours is whereI’d rather live. The AMA says you’ve added           seven point six years to my life.In a phrase, love is a transfer of wealth.           This is why Adam Smith gave upromantic verse. In trying to say what can’t           be said I’ll take the Dragnetapproach. Just the facts. I’d be dead           sooner without you, you’ll die fasterfor being a Mrs., raw deal can’t be more         clearly defined. To make amendsI offer ten percent more kisses each year.           Or do I do more harm the closerwe become? If yes, leaving would be love           and a better man might. But my thrillsare selfishly domestic. I like sweeping words           into piles and whispering good night. ― Bob Hicok, Insomnia Diary

#BobHicok, #BobHicokGandhiLoveQuotes, #BobHicokQuotes, #GandhiLoveQuotes, #InsomniaDiary, #InsomniaDiaryQuotes

[somethingworthyofthesea]

Do yourselves a favor

and buy “This Clumsy Living” by Bob Hicok and read his every single word. I am so jealous of this man’s brain, his poems are breathtaking. I would love to be able to write a poem as lovely as Hicok’s “Switching to Deer Time.” I sincerely encourage you (whoever you are) to check out his work and fall in love.

[karnibalfeen-blog]

Oh - boy.

I... can't sleep. It's almost 4 a.m., and I have things to do later. A lot. And I can't sleep... (and also, the montage of my two last recorded videos is impossible. The result is shitty. I don't know what to do anymore...) ,•_•, It does still amaze me a lot how just a little thing, like something that I have to do that goes out of the way I live an actual day, like a meeting, even for less than an hour, with someone, or an appointment at the dentist, or some "stupid" stuff like this, can stress me and make me in a perpetual state of anxiety until the thing is done, and then, I am here, with nothing left to do, and instead of breathing, I am like, "yah know that wasn't so hard... It's done. Yeah, it's done. OH MY GOD IT'S DONE. FUCKING TIME HAS PASSED. WHAT AM I DOING? WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?! Why did that stress me so much? 'Cause I will die one day, this is not so important! This is stupid to be each time in an awful state for something as easy, as "normal", as this little things. FUCK. I WILL DIE. OH NO, I WILL FUCKING DIE ONE DAY. AND EVERY SECOND THAT PASSED SEND ME TO DEATH. AND THERE WILL BE NOTHING LEFT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT!!" And like that, again and again. For, apparently, the big majority of subjects that cross my lovely brain. This is a vicious circle. Really. And you know, there are so many memories, sincerely important ones, that I would like to remember well, to feel, like when it happened. But instead, I forget. I can't feel them enough, the good ones. And there are, stuck in my head, the stupid little things, for example, the sentence that someone said to me, even someone I don't really care, you know, and their look, that kind of despising look, haunting me, then, the fact that I could have done something else, something better, and the sentance goes endlessly in my head, always the same fucking sentance, and I feel crazy, bad, sad, guilty, I speak to those "shadows of the past", but I am alone, nobody is here. There is only this one sentance, again and again, screaming in my head. Nonstop. Nonstop. Nonstop...

[lifeinpoetry]

At least once you should live with someone more medicated than yourself [...] I had to read Plato for a grade, each circle's the bastard child of a perfect O I remember he said, and Kierkegaard I thought was writing stand-up with the self is a relation which relates itself to its own self but my roommate nodded as I read this aloud, he'd stood so long before carnival mirrors that the idea of a face being a reflection of a reflection of itself was common sense.

--- Bob Hicok, from “Bottom of the ocean,” Insomnia Diary

[jyoou]

[terminallydelighted]

.

[gaseousmob-blog]

i just fb-unfriended enough people i barely remember from high school to get my count down to 888 now every time i add someone new i have to delete someone else sorry happy new year

[clitorisnt]

"Who's she? Just a friend." And oceans are merely dew upon the land.

Bob Hicock