i can't sleep. thoughts and thoughts and thoughts. i have them. a lot. my dog is pregnant. filled with pups. it's funny. and going to be cute. i'm about to make a drastic change in my life. new years aside. it just strikes me as a good time to get the ball rolling. you know. fresh and what not. also, i'm a person of timing. or at least i try to be. in the sense of doing things, that is. i'm late everywhere i go. but it's about that time. to quit and such. to get rid of all the ickyness that's been looming around my life for about the past two (plus) years. and all the reasoning has changed. it's an absolute measurement of my humility.
does anyone want a puppy.
preferably in the 419 area code. takers?
12.30.2007
12.02.2007
{common.}
drinking lackadaisically. they said, this what we do. this is why we're here. and music played beneath the bathroom tiles. and little mice silently scurried past the feet of dreaming damsels in supposed distress. but it was real. i was real and who knew. i've hurt many different feelings time and again. unintentional. opening doors and screaming, where is the music. why can't i hear it? i want it more than the sun. but i've spent so many hours talking pointless garble. to people i don't care. making plans for nothing. saying sorry. and, how do you like it? telling stories i shouldn't speak aloud. in an attempt for them to know me. this is silly. the rains came down. and the floods came up. and god wants me. i wanted them to find me.
on the kitchen floor
chiming bird calls.
i have always wanted them to find me here.
but never realized that i don't exist in any present moment.
i made my bed back then
and am now just starting to find for myself
what here is really like.
take me
back
to being
where
i was
when i was
born.
and just
began
breathing.
for the
first
time.
baby Boy was born a deer.
we walked down
city streets with
heavy feet and
mutual friends.
brushed each
other's hair.
painted our eyes
with gold leaf.
fell asleep
in wet clothes.
danced at the
disco. drank.
and kept each
other sane.
trying to remember
where we started. on that day
too many years ago
when and where we both
started smoking cigarettes.
and allowing ourselves
to love someone special.
baby Girl was
born a bird.
we walked down
city streets in
fancy shoes. and
mutual friends.
painted our nails
together. did our
hair up nice.
fell asleep
with faces
for too long.
danced in the
car. drank.
kept each other mostly sane.
trying to remember how we ended
up where we were.
from that day too many years ago.
when and where we'd placed our disregarded cigarettes.
and allowing ourselves to love
someone we shouldn't.
my mother can't
find me through
the phone calls
and the letters.
she cries.
my daughter.
baby girl.
i love you.
the last.
save yourself.
gather what you can.
it's a dog eat dog world.
and this ship has already hit
the briny deep..
these are the shoes we wear in secret.
and the ones we show everyone else.
keeps me
from floating away.
i'd still like to touch
your belly.
bleeding for touch and attention.
firm and smooth.
like love should be.
but it's always dysfunctional you said.
while we smoked.
i would love to touch you.
your belly full of faults.
your face full of pity.
your heart full of lust.
but never for me.
on the kitchen floor
chiming bird calls.
i have always wanted them to find me here.
but never realized that i don't exist in any present moment.
i made my bed back then
and am now just starting to find for myself
what here is really like.
take me
back
to being
where
i was
when i was
born.
and just
began
breathing.
for the
first
time.
baby Boy was born a deer.
we walked down
city streets with
heavy feet and
mutual friends.
brushed each
other's hair.
painted our eyes
with gold leaf.
fell asleep
in wet clothes.
danced at the
disco. drank.
and kept each
other sane.
trying to remember
where we started. on that day
too many years ago
when and where we both
started smoking cigarettes.
and allowing ourselves
to love someone special.
baby Girl was
born a bird.
we walked down
city streets in
fancy shoes. and
mutual friends.
painted our nails
together. did our
hair up nice.
fell asleep
with faces
for too long.
danced in the
car. drank.
kept each other mostly sane.
trying to remember how we ended
up where we were.
from that day too many years ago.
when and where we'd placed our disregarded cigarettes.
and allowing ourselves to love
someone we shouldn't.
my mother can't
find me through
the phone calls
and the letters.
she cries.
my daughter.
baby girl.
i love you.
the last.
save yourself.
gather what you can.
it's a dog eat dog world.
and this ship has already hit
the briny deep..
these are the shoes we wear in secret.
and the ones we show everyone else.
keeps me
from floating away.
i'd still like to touch
your belly.
bleeding for touch and attention.
firm and smooth.
like love should be.
but it's always dysfunctional you said.
while we smoked.
i would love to touch you.
your belly full of faults.
your face full of pity.
your heart full of lust.
but never for me.
{crack dreams.}
preface: i keep reading these little ads at the edge of the internet page that read "charles bukowski ring tones" and i don't understand. it's raining.
let's regress.
it's falling too fast to be snow. and some day. someone. will read all these books. and i'll know i love them. for the act, i'll give myself. i will be all theirs. all the kids will stop drinking. all the dogs will be set free. no one will care either way about how the world began. we'll know what to do.
one of the longer days. called mother. need a stiff drink. "only one," she says over the phone. brought by satellite. okay. and five later. at the gay bar to see some DJ. i don't care. and i don't like gay bars. i feel totally unneeded. not because i have a vagina. but because, and for reasons i've accumulated, gay boy bars seem more to me like meat markets than regular bars. all the guys know each other and are consistently and constantly preoccupied by the prospect of fucking. so any conversation or personal interest i have is impeded upon by this occurrence. also, i generally like men, so going to a gay bar makes me feel stupid. because of my overall attraction to so many different types, i feel foolish. especially at this point in my life. earlier in the night, i had devised a code word to verbalize at the moment i decided it was time to leave said bar and go home. the friend i was with informed me that i should just tell her when i was ready to go, however, i wanted a secret code. the word of choice was "jumanji." i had already said the word, and was waiting for fifteen minutes to go home, so that i might take a bath while beating my head across the wall. because i have no self-control, and these instances that strike me tend to resonate for hours. or until i go to sleep, if i'm lucky. waiting at the table until i've just about had it. i seek her out, towards the bathroom. seeing her. handing a sweater. we leave. accompanied by some man named Jeff. he talks a lot. and gradually i am informed that we are taking him somewhere. his care, home, i'm not sure. i drive my friend's care after having 5 or 6 vodkas on the rocks with lemon. which isn't too much. vodka leaves me very coherent somehow. but the three of us are talking as we drive. rather Jeff is talking very much, as i give little bits of information or advice. but the conversation is confusing. he's telling me all about his life. so many details. very. quickly.
automatic teller machine.
a time to kill. boom.
fix your ears. we're leaving. now.
get in the car.
wrap up your conversation
with the fabricated people of thought.
dreams make bad scenarios.
i don't understand. i saved my money.
mixtape. for myself to remember
all the instances of life.
they were all there. was i alone then?
with van morrison? steve reich? daedelus?
maybe. i can't tell at this point.
possibly ever. but i can tell you
who wasn't invited. alice in chains.
stop eating. save yourself. run.
there was that imaginary guy drunk
at that made-up bar in the south
who splashed a glass of beer on my leg
while i played love songs on guitar.
the teacher in cleveland.
who followed me home from the bar.
and saved me from those drunk dudes.
we had sex in my apartment.
made our love a secret. jeff mangum.
my dog artax. my cat falcor.
so now i have to stop dreaming in my wake.
and quit the words i know i'll never say.
to save myself.
live in reality.
come down. from the clouds.
next to the megatouch. here we are.
waiting for me means getting drunk. can i wait that long..
this is my plan:
1)we will see no wine before its time.
2)up up and away
3)for the long run
there you have it.
help yourself.
save. get out. make new.
i love you because...
i didn't want you to be a mistake.
too tired to go on.
let's regress.
it's falling too fast to be snow. and some day. someone. will read all these books. and i'll know i love them. for the act, i'll give myself. i will be all theirs. all the kids will stop drinking. all the dogs will be set free. no one will care either way about how the world began. we'll know what to do.
one of the longer days. called mother. need a stiff drink. "only one," she says over the phone. brought by satellite. okay. and five later. at the gay bar to see some DJ. i don't care. and i don't like gay bars. i feel totally unneeded. not because i have a vagina. but because, and for reasons i've accumulated, gay boy bars seem more to me like meat markets than regular bars. all the guys know each other and are consistently and constantly preoccupied by the prospect of fucking. so any conversation or personal interest i have is impeded upon by this occurrence. also, i generally like men, so going to a gay bar makes me feel stupid. because of my overall attraction to so many different types, i feel foolish. especially at this point in my life. earlier in the night, i had devised a code word to verbalize at the moment i decided it was time to leave said bar and go home. the friend i was with informed me that i should just tell her when i was ready to go, however, i wanted a secret code. the word of choice was "jumanji." i had already said the word, and was waiting for fifteen minutes to go home, so that i might take a bath while beating my head across the wall. because i have no self-control, and these instances that strike me tend to resonate for hours. or until i go to sleep, if i'm lucky. waiting at the table until i've just about had it. i seek her out, towards the bathroom. seeing her. handing a sweater. we leave. accompanied by some man named Jeff. he talks a lot. and gradually i am informed that we are taking him somewhere. his care, home, i'm not sure. i drive my friend's care after having 5 or 6 vodkas on the rocks with lemon. which isn't too much. vodka leaves me very coherent somehow. but the three of us are talking as we drive. rather Jeff is talking very much, as i give little bits of information or advice. but the conversation is confusing. he's telling me all about his life. so many details. very. quickly.
automatic teller machine.
a time to kill. boom.
fix your ears. we're leaving. now.
get in the car.
wrap up your conversation
with the fabricated people of thought.
dreams make bad scenarios.
i don't understand. i saved my money.
mixtape. for myself to remember
all the instances of life.
they were all there. was i alone then?
with van morrison? steve reich? daedelus?
maybe. i can't tell at this point.
possibly ever. but i can tell you
who wasn't invited. alice in chains.
stop eating. save yourself. run.
there was that imaginary guy drunk
at that made-up bar in the south
who splashed a glass of beer on my leg
while i played love songs on guitar.
the teacher in cleveland.
who followed me home from the bar.
and saved me from those drunk dudes.
we had sex in my apartment.
made our love a secret. jeff mangum.
my dog artax. my cat falcor.
so now i have to stop dreaming in my wake.
and quit the words i know i'll never say.
to save myself.
live in reality.
come down. from the clouds.
next to the megatouch. here we are.
waiting for me means getting drunk. can i wait that long..
this is my plan:
1)we will see no wine before its time.
2)up up and away
3)for the long run
there you have it.
help yourself.
save. get out. make new.
i love you because...
i didn't want you to be a mistake.
too tired to go on.
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