april 8th
understanding technology might be nice. so. so then. well. let’s see here. from now on, when people ask me ‘how i am’ I suppose i’ll tell then the name of a song. now for instance, i’m feeling very “lucky,” the ridge school benefit kind of “lucky.” i suppose i’ll leave it up to whoever to determine what or who i’m talking about. i don’t want to give too much away. i determined tonight that this is one reason why i love music to such an extent. in moments where i lack the ability to express my emotions entirely, to myself or others, there is some grouping of words and beats and chords, a melody, dissonance and whatever else, that somehow accurately describes my heart. that may sound sappy, but it’s nice to take comfort in such a simple thing. i like simple things. i suppose i could say that at the moment i’m just feeling very radiohead. every radiohead song i’ve listened to this evening/morning has been great for me. i was beginning to get all torn up about which song best fit. am i feeling “lucky” or “street spirit”? or am i more “kinetic” or “i might be wrong”? oh wait. i feel like every radiohead song. everything is very surreal to me. and has been for the past few days. the other day, someone noticed my hair was gone, and asked me when i did it. i didn’t even remember for about thirty seconds. this struck me as peculiar, because i suppose in a round about way, it’s a “big deal.” but nothing has really been a big deal to me lately. well, that’s not necessarily true, but most things i simply don’t care about at all. not necessarily in an harsh, apathetic way. i just don’t think twice about much. from what i remember of myself, i’m not especially like that.
i’m very weary. that is the best adjective to describe me at the moment. weary. so so so weary. i keep asking myself what’s happening. i’m craving the absence of existence. not to sound so horrible. i don’t mean that in a negative way. i’m not so worried. it’s another one of those things that i haven’t really cared at all about lately. this world is just strange. i can’t really think of why i’m in it. well i can. i can. i hope this isn’t coming off as extremely melodramatic. really, if i were talking right now, i’d be very casual. just talking. over coffee and a cigarette. the inevitable flaw of text. i still haven’t managed to get a handle on making my emotions painfully clear through words as of yet.
please could you stop the noise i’m tryin to get some rest from all the unborn chicken voices in my head. i am a minivan driving into the elementary school wall. i am a jet engine. i’m the nonstop ridiculous phrases that pour out of my mouth when i’m in a panic. walking to get cigarettes, i talk to myself. the man on the street heard every word of fucking fucking fuck this and that. i’m sorry. so embarrassed by my own babblings. i meant everything i said. please help me. why don’t you want into this. i’d like to say i’m all alone, but all the other sides of me have come about. i have befriended them. why can’t they come upstairs into what i know. help me spruce up the place. help me clean up this mess. can’t keep the place up. there is no up. i don’t want the burden of existence. i don’t want any of this for whatever it’s worth. i breathe for love’s sake. the chance that i might be able to give it. i’d like to think that i’m okay. i’d like to think rosey this and that. and it is from time to time. when the sun shines correctly at the right angles. or my pants fit comfortably and the sky is the perfect shade of blue or orange. the coffee tastes the way i imagine it will. the cigarettes smell like they did the first time i tried them. and kisses have flavor. and night has sleep. i’m very tired.
time to do laundry and drink some carrot juice. you all have a great day. hope the sun shines on your side of the street. hope the morning doves coo at your window sills and the stop lights all turn green when you need them to. and the bible verses make sense. and parents give you money. and you see shiny things. old ladies open doors and the lightning doesn’t get you and the alcohol doesn’t make you sick. hope you see the same man i just saw in tube socks and red shorts. and the lady, nails all done up and magenta lipstick and tech vest perm gold earrings worst perfume i ever smelled. ball cap cutting donuts with a fork and hiking boots in april. it’s wet out there. it’s some treacherous terrain. you better just eat your roll she said. i don’t know why. it’s a crazy place out there. don’t forget your pepper spray and your hound dog ready to bite out the bad guy’s jugular vein. just in case he might have attacked you- you never know, there’s some crazy people out there who want to steal your things and get in your pants and laugh in your face. so you had better not let them. it’s a crazy place out there. take care please. take care.
april 9th
at a hotel in ohio. i think i’m in Findlay. watching a movie called “sex, lies, and videotapes.” it’s a drama. there’s a character named “graham.” i really like him. he reminds me of myself. he just professed his impotence. wow. this film is great. i love hbo. i’m sitting at a white, cylinder coffee table at the computer with a camera lots of cigarettes coffee and a joint. this movie is fascinating. just fascinating. it’s exactly what i needed. exactly. it is so bizarre, i could cry. i can’t even think of how to write about how this meets me at the moment. “my life is shit. it’s just shit. nothing is what i thought it was.”
so after that excellent film came this ridiculous movie about a crazy guy and his imaginary blowup doll girlfriend, who he begins to think is real and he talks to her and then goes crazy and kills people, and now we’re on to hilarious lesbian porn. it’s one of the best and worst things i have ever seen. everyone is naked and moving around but nothing is really happening. it’s great. just a lot of nipple licking, no vagina action at all, it’s weird. then interspersed with plastic armor and bad jokes and fake dismembered body parts. what? oh the first vagina just got touched. –wait no, she was kissing above her pubic hair. this is so weird. i can’t stop watching. i need to turn this off so that i can focus. okay. ah. i do not love hbo, it makes for too much ridiculous TV that is so unusual and strange that i can’t stop watching. what a bizarre adventure i am on.
when i arrived here, to my hotel room (224) at the day’s inn, i was so titillated and giddy about the whole ordeal i almost cried. i would like for this to be a productive adventure and a relieving one. tonight will be relieving and entertaining and tomorrow shall be work. that’s the plan.
my lack of existence has commenced and i’m not dead. so that’s nice. i would like to be able to locate myself for a time and hope this adventure helps me do that. then my resurrection. i don’t know where i’ve gone. at the same time i feel that i haven’t really gone anywhere. there’s nothing wrong with my new found sense of apathy as long as it is under self-surveillance. i often forget about the constant progression and adaptations that occur within myself. at times, it is so easy to overlook that my brain is constantly moving forward. at least i feel that it is. maybe it’s going backwards, left or right. either way, change is a consistency, which i consistently neglect to recognize. i hope no one murders me while i’m here. that would be less than nice. i’ll try and press “save” before my final breath. anyway. change and adjust and alter. i will always be doing these things within myself. i naturally resist, subconsciously however, and would like to make a mental note to not do so. and maybe apathy is a strong word, or maybe i’m just making it seem too general. as in, i’m not apathetic towards most things. or at least many. i pick and choose. the trivial things have become less than relevant, bearing no real weight on my life. but i think that i am seeing some things as trivial that i shouldn’t. life for instance. no not really. at least not now, but from time to time i find myself feeling that the whole god damn thing is worthless and pointless and am incapable of tolerating it any longer. the only things i find to be absolutely honest and worth my respect are the human body and music. i’d like to say love, but that is far too tricky of an essence to be forever true. we deceive ourselves most of the time. love is frightening. i’m scared of it, so i respect it in the sense that it is a very powerful and benevolent and shattering thing. i don’t necessarily mean shattering in a “oh you broke up with your individual and now your heart has been crushed” sort of thing. i mean life altering or changing. positive and negative. people can figure out who they are or what they’re like, or be lost within someone else, or be destroyed by someone or rebuilt or completed. so many things. and it is quite frightening. maybe i’m overanalyzing again. i do that. i don’t know. or people can just not give two shits. it doesn’t really matter i guess. either you are impacted or you aren’t. i don’t think one is better or correct or anything. i was just thinking. it depends on the person i guess. like sex, comparatively. you could fuck or love or anything in between. i think it’s all about the aftermath. that’s one more thing that makes this worth it. the ability to know people and the capacity to allow them to affect you. that is what i crave in life. i see so many people. and i love people. i love to look at them and talk with them. see who they are. what they have become in their span of existence. what makes them individuals and how individualistic they are and why. how they interact back, or relate to me or don’t at all. it’s fascinating. and discovering the ones i truly connect with is the most magnificent part. because those connections are so very rare. the majority of people i meet i have little or nothing to offer me. then there are the ones i connect with on certain levels, but not all, so i give them what i have and they give back to me on random and temporary occasions. but the precious few that truly meet me are the most beautiful and radiant people on the face of the earth. i don’t mean any of this in superior or inferior levels. the ones i don’t bond with aren’t bad people or less than i. we simply weren’t meant to join in a cerebral fashion. i don’t hold myself above them or anyone. i suppose that’s a lie, but i wish it weren’t. i should say that in my sometimes arrogant mind there are those who i should appreciate, or simply just ignore. i feel like an asshole, but i’m being honest. there’s the lady at mcdonald’s with a headset on and grease stains all over her uniform and eight teeth missing with a bad haircut (that she probably paid money for) who is 280 lbs. and malnourished, (that’s david cross talking) who i am unjustly disgusted by. but i suppose i do appreciate her in a round about way. her partially chosen life will forever fascinate me. i say partially. but regardless her way of being is captivating. i do think all humans are beautiful, but am many times extremely saddened when i witness a life. that applies to most everyone. sometimes i’ll see an old man sitting on a bench waiting for a taxi at the grocer’s and become so immensely depressed. i am not exactly sure why. maybe it’s their feeble state. the fact that they have lived so many years, and at one point were young and full of hope and love and laughter, and now they are incapable of much and seem to be simply waiting for their time to be up. they always look so alone. and next to that they are old and brittle. swollen and ugly with age. maybe that’s why i’m so fascinated by those who get really really old and ugly together and still love. not that age is ugly, because faces sag and hair falls out. it’s just what happens. just to witness the face of age is so unreal to me. i can’t look at old people and not be taken back through every chapter of their lives. i don’t think people really consider that. old was once young. time is so intangible and invisible! and these people kissed and loved and ran and did so much. even if they did nothing. never loved or kissed or left the office. that’s still an entire life. that is many many years of time spent with the capacity and the choice to do. or not do. but now they’re old and life is pretty much through. people say “it’s never too late,” but for the vast majority it is. people make decisions. and they live by them. and i wonder how often they are pleased. how often are people pleased with their lives when all is said and done. when they’re are forty-eight and 280 lbs. working at mcdonalds serving chicken nuggets to families after church on Sunday. is that pleasing. it doesn’t really matter. this is just the reminder i give to myself. wondering if i would ever do that. or whether or not it is a bad thing at all. i mean, we are all dead in the end. and where any reward lies after death is beyond me. so i will try to strive for contentment i guess. everything just seems so irrelevant. i just watched a good film and someone took much time to prepare it for an audience, and i saw it and was effected and pleased by it. but i question what exactly was gained necessarily. you could watch all the greatest movies or make all the greatest movies, and it seems both end the same. i am so alarmed by this. i think this is what has been killing me lately. just the inevitability of death and ending and the paths we take to get there. i’m not too frightened by death. only when i really think about being gone for ever starting now, and not being given some time to do stuff. but what would i do? and does it matter. i just don’t know, and this whole monologue is becoming irrelevant as well. it has no point. sometimes i’d like to become a devout Christian or any such religion so that i would feel like i was going somewhere. you weren’t the first to think that. not that i was either, but just to clarify. sometimes i think i will some day. i just lost pretty much all of my pinky toenail. i have no idea how that just happened and it didn’t hurt at all.
so to tie all of this up nice and neat, i will end by saying this, that all the feelings of irreverence and the perplexing pointlessness of existence are in my mind, themselves neither here nor there. they are irrelevant. it has negated itself i guess. and i take comfort in that idea. so in life i will be doing my best to strive for what i want. that makes perfect sense now. see it’s all coming together. i know what to work towards. and i suppose that will take all the trivial bullshit in between tolerable. i feel much better now. i have no expectations though. maybe i won’t get exactly what i want. but i’m sure i’ll get damn close enough. because i know what i don’t want. and what i especially don’t want are the things that i can easily avoid. like becoming a housewife. or a policewoman. i don’t want those, and i don’t think they will, through some twisted series of unlikely and ill-fated events, happen. i’m okay with living in a cardboard box. i think that might be funny. i have nothing to prove to anyone. we are all dead in the end. and when all is said and done, no one’s name will be remembered and there will be no history books or documentaries about famous poets and army men. there will be absolutely nothing. and everything will be gone. black the end. there are only two things i require for the maintenance of existence: love and creation. if i keep making and loving everything will be worth it. these two things fill me with such joy i can’t even comprehend. and i forget so often. it is easy for things to get in the way. the inconsequential bullshit. i should remember that it’s unimportant and passing. but also that things need to be done at times.
i’m so excited now. i anticipate a life of creation, the fact that i have to ability to make whatever the hell i want. and i can appreciate it. and others will, even if it’s a dear few. i can still impact people’s lives with what i make. and i can love. i can willingly have the capacity to love. give who i am to whoever i want, and experience first hand the lives of others. i think that is great. even if it matters to no one else i ever encounter. i do hope however that if anyone reads this they will see also what i desire, and could possibly give me part of one of them. i know you do. but it’s an exchange i feel. regardless and nonetheless, i’ll have my love for others to myself. my love is my own. i keep thinking of the movie “adaptation.” maybe that’s why i just wrote that. but i feel it’s true. so there everyone. that is what i have to offer the world while i am of it: love and art. i do both very passionately, and at least one very very well i feel. it isn’t always dark up there. i have done my rearranging.
april 10th
i feel much better. i hope i am changed. i feel i am. i shouldn’t say i hope. hope seems so useless to me. like it creates expectations, of which i have none. i don’t anticipate anything but my idea of life. if i hope anything, it is that can maintain peace. i was going to say “maintain and stand firm in my beliefs.” but that would be a ridiculous thing to say. for one i have no belief structure, and for two ideas are forever changing. right now, as much as i would love to continue thinking and pondering, i should really get some trivial work done, so that i can later do what i want. it’s almost done. it’s almost over. i will say once again though, before i leave, that i love very very much. and it fills me with such immense happiness to love. existential adventure.
4.11.2005
4.05.2005
my hair is short now.
i forgot my headphones today,
so all i hear is the clicks and snaps
of computers
and the ringing of my right ear.
i want to be dead,
but not really.
that is exactly how i feel.
[last night i talked with mr. deboe about that for a while. wanting to kill yourself, or wanting to be dead, but not forever yet. i would like to be dead for about the next year. then be alive again, and be like, "hey. here i am again. i'm not dead now."
but then i was thinking about the ultimate futility of that. why would i want to be dead for only a year. what would i be coming back to. i would have missed a years worth, which isn't a big deal, but being dead, then coming back just seems stupid to me now that i think about it. if you want to be dead, than die, and cease existence, let that be that. that's how i feel now, after more contemplation over the whole issue.
if you came back from the dead after a year of death, how would people even react. does it even matter. i imagine that no one would be too incredibly excited, then i would just end up killing myself again and saying, "for real this time." dead. yesterday, i was talking with a friend from high school who i rarely see, and she noticed my hair was short and said, "but you didn't shave it and kill yourself." and i was confused. then she said, "you used to say that you would shave your head and then kill yourself." and i said, "i did." she chuckled and said quietly, "all the time." i laughed perplexed and awkward laugh. i don't remember myself.]
[sometimes i want to smother certain people with my love. i don't mean that in a suffocating sense. i want to pour it all over them, just cover them with warmth and affection, like a blanket. take naps. sometimes i can't think of anything more affectionate than afternoon naps. i wish people weren't so weird, so that i could do that and have no repercussions. no confused emotions. no jealousy and hurt. but that's okay. i just love specific individuals very much. and sometimes it's more fun to simply do small things to show it.]
regardless of how fucked up i felt last night, it was much fun. i really did enjoy myself. even more so now that i am recalling it. i'm enjoying the memory, especially when i misplace how ridiculously trivial i felt as a person for the majority of monday night, march 4th, 2000 and 5.
blah blah blah.
the cat's meow.
the dog does bark.
and this and that.
cat and mouse.
dog eats cat.
and down goes the whole mother fuckin farm.
[i've written that in here before, but some days it is perpetually in my head.]
+
=
+
.
i forgot my headphones today,
so all i hear is the clicks and snaps
of computers
and the ringing of my right ear.
i want to be dead,
but not really.
that is exactly how i feel.
[last night i talked with mr. deboe about that for a while. wanting to kill yourself, or wanting to be dead, but not forever yet. i would like to be dead for about the next year. then be alive again, and be like, "hey. here i am again. i'm not dead now."
but then i was thinking about the ultimate futility of that. why would i want to be dead for only a year. what would i be coming back to. i would have missed a years worth, which isn't a big deal, but being dead, then coming back just seems stupid to me now that i think about it. if you want to be dead, than die, and cease existence, let that be that. that's how i feel now, after more contemplation over the whole issue.
if you came back from the dead after a year of death, how would people even react. does it even matter. i imagine that no one would be too incredibly excited, then i would just end up killing myself again and saying, "for real this time." dead. yesterday, i was talking with a friend from high school who i rarely see, and she noticed my hair was short and said, "but you didn't shave it and kill yourself." and i was confused. then she said, "you used to say that you would shave your head and then kill yourself." and i said, "i did." she chuckled and said quietly, "all the time." i laughed perplexed and awkward laugh. i don't remember myself.]
i've memorized ink blots
slashed my own tires
dreams are full of masturbation
and i thought it was funny
i thought it was
funny, for a while
until cats opened the bedroom door
and i rolled over to witness
pretty backs and the perfect figures
meant to do me in.
things i could touch
my hands were too heavy
limbs lying limp at my sides
an instance lacking humor entirely
but the pillows and blankets smell nicenow
empty sweaters on the floor
very casual, very inadvertent
and bearing now naked purpose
so the cats came in then
and i curled up with them
so desperate for affection.
[sometimes i want to smother certain people with my love. i don't mean that in a suffocating sense. i want to pour it all over them, just cover them with warmth and affection, like a blanket. take naps. sometimes i can't think of anything more affectionate than afternoon naps. i wish people weren't so weird, so that i could do that and have no repercussions. no confused emotions. no jealousy and hurt. but that's okay. i just love specific individuals very much. and sometimes it's more fun to simply do small things to show it.]
silly little notions
they creep so softly
into the foregrounds of
everyday thinking.
regardless of how fucked up i felt last night, it was much fun. i really did enjoy myself. even more so now that i am recalling it. i'm enjoying the memory, especially when i misplace how ridiculously trivial i felt as a person for the majority of monday night, march 4th, 2000 and 5.
blah blah blah.
the cat's meow.
the dog does bark.
and this and that.
cat and mouse.
dog eats cat.
and down goes the whole mother fuckin farm.
[i've written that in here before, but some days it is perpetually in my head.]
+
=
+
.
4.01.2005
inconsiderate fucks
table top dancers and silver spoons
i laughed twice
once at myself
for being such an equal shit
again at the paperback books
written about the relevance of desperation
a whole series about sex
and how i cradle my own hips
like a lush
ready for my close up
ready for my close up
editing my novels about hate
eradicating your names
i don't want to be too harsh
to the pint-sized pricks
and the country craft collectors
it is the first of final hours
it is the first of final hours
developing inabilities to lie
about important aspects of love
that's pretty far fetched
this fever burning
never killed anyone
these wheels turning
never killed anyone
because people don't kill people
they kill themselves
daily basis, night and day
forward fast to friday night
the usual plague of locusts
seeps out from the cracks of humanity
displays of frozen flesh
never killed anyone
the filthy and the fresh
never killed anyone
because people don't kill people
we all kill ourselves
but some better than others
+
spare me please.
spare me.
no really.
no.
really.
+
+
+
+
The pot will call the kettle black.
.
.
.
table top dancers and silver spoons
i laughed twice
once at myself
for being such an equal shit
again at the paperback books
written about the relevance of desperation
a whole series about sex
and how i cradle my own hips
like a lush
ready for my close up
ready for my close up
editing my novels about hate
eradicating your names
i don't want to be too harsh
to the pint-sized pricks
and the country craft collectors
it is the first of final hours
it is the first of final hours
developing inabilities to lie
about important aspects of love
Murderers you're murderers
We are not the same as you
Genie let out the bottle
Funny haha funny how
When the walls bend
With your breathing
They will suck you down
To the otherside
To the shadows blue and red
Your alarm bells
They should be ringing
This is the gloaming
that's pretty far fetched
this fever burning
never killed anyone
these wheels turning
never killed anyone
because people don't kill people
they kill themselves
daily basis, night and day
forward fast to friday night
the usual plague of locusts
seeps out from the cracks of humanity
displays of frozen flesh
never killed anyone
the filthy and the fresh
never killed anyone
because people don't kill people
we all kill ourselves
but some better than others
+
spare me please.
spare me.
no really.
no.
really.
+
+
+
+
The pot will call the kettle black.
.
.
.
3.31.2005
i am up in the clouds
i am up in the clouds
and i can't
and i can't come down
this day is one long animation of my life inside my head.
i'm the pencil line drawing walking along.
in a black blazer and headphones.
i have so many ideas. i have a lot to offer. and i can't wait to show you all.
brush each nail with bleach abrasion
all need to bleed every now and again
it getting all over
wiped on our already blotchy bloodstained sleeves
i'll kiss your stitches, your swollen skin
through the holes of sweaters
tediously picking apart each fiber
borrowing in, to
patiently and endearingly caress the scar tissue
gradually hardening
around your elbows
+
i’ve reached myself in dreams
found the flavors after
setting the tone with sounds chosen
to aid in finding places never been
diving into different parts
the unopened compartments
necessitating the memories
if i didn't write everything down
we'd forget what happened
even if we lived it differently
at least it’s known how i felt
done correctly, we might remember better
on a falsely positive note
otherwise every instance is a cigarette
slightly enjoyed, turned to smoke
taken in, released
discarded
i've reached the world in sleep
walked on pastel streets
didn't see a soul
i only heard two voices
yours and mine
and the rhythmic tones of living
an interpretation
rarely having felt as real as when i'm sleeping
nothing ever made more sense
maintaining my purpose
a presented objective to live for
when fear is fine too
at least it's something consistent
at least it's a rush
i'll stay up there i'll stay there
seemingly safer.
safest when i don't mix the two,
these two means of being; both real
here and there. i'll stay there
where everything is right.
when i only hear two voices.
yours and mine.
there's a gap in between
there's a gap where we meet
where i end and you begin
and i'm sorry for us
the dinosaurs roam the earth
the sky turns [green]
where i end and you begin
i am up in the clouds
i am up in the clouds
and i can't and i can't come down
i can watch but not take part
where i end and where you start
where you, you left me alone
you left me alone.
X' will mark the place
like the parting the waves
like a house falling in the sea.
i will eat you all alive
there'll be no more lies
things that mean so much won't faze the likes of you.
[May pretty horses
Come to you
As you sleep
I'm gonna go to sleep
Let this wash
All over me]
don't make me stop
++*+ different
3.29.2005
[you obviously have no fucking clue.
i was talking about myself.
distain for my own person.
no one else.]
little to anyone's knowledge, she could consistently be found hiding in her closet. drunk. crying and whispering to her self. wondering who else performed these unpleasant rituals. hoping that no one did. because no one deserves that kind of psychological punishment. whether or not this was a self-inflicted ordeal was questionable. maybe if she hadn't had all that wine. then again, this may be a necessary culmination of events. a sort of outlet, rarely achieved because we've told ourselves to keep quiet so very often. it being supposedly easier that way. so whether or not this instance was her "fault" becomes irrelevant. the poor dear. she just sat there. in that closet. telling her self, "well, i always thought you were pretty," and "why doesn't anyone want in?" over and over again, until the simple phrases just became rhythmic sounds echoing in small places that no one would ever hear. not in real life. not as it truly was when it happened. and when manifesting tears became too exhausting, she took to staring up at the little pull rope light switch or whatever it would be called. it swayed slightly. her mouth and eyes half open. a memorable perspective. then came sleep.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me?
i'll lose my eyes
put them out
burnt by smokes and useless
i dropped my pen twice
my ovaries hurt
and your back is beautiful
always thought i had cat's eyes
they see to much and nothing
soon it'll be fire. fire.
oh. shit. i thought we'd fixed it.
i always think that.
write about it erratically.
where is everyone
do you know where i am
please let me know
don't stop that song. it's too nice.
i've taken to pulling out my hair again.
i need to drink faster. think slower.
that's the ticket.
badly is a word. it is. to me.
let's look it up. shall we?
well, it's not there. in that book.
i don't think people like to flirt
in public places
because they secretly want to keep
their options open. what. yeah. i think that.
photographs. photographs. photographs.
we lick our sores
our cuts and bruises
to clean them out
or at least perform
some ritual.
kites will get caught in trees
so i'll stand taller. be a better man.
revitalized on windy days
despite the difficulties of folding papers
where everyone is trying so hard to stay alive
except the pope. wonder why.
while our president is oh so clever.
how true. how nice.
i'm glad i didn't lie down
take two naps on a nice day
the end of march
something about madness
in the future, golf
courses will be made
out of metal.
kids will play
in plastic boxes.
they already do.
oh yeah.
i hope the trees
come to life.
kill us all.
eat us up
like sandwiches.
fleece makes me
suicidal.
i mean that.
i used to take too much comfort
in other people. now i find
i spend too much time alone,
convincing myself i'm all i'll ever need.
i only half believe that.
i'll always have the music.
and the oral pacification of squares.
i'm gonna swing and smoke.
there it go.
+
i was talking about myself.
distain for my own person.
no one else.]
little to anyone's knowledge, she could consistently be found hiding in her closet. drunk. crying and whispering to her self. wondering who else performed these unpleasant rituals. hoping that no one did. because no one deserves that kind of psychological punishment. whether or not this was a self-inflicted ordeal was questionable. maybe if she hadn't had all that wine. then again, this may be a necessary culmination of events. a sort of outlet, rarely achieved because we've told ourselves to keep quiet so very often. it being supposedly easier that way. so whether or not this instance was her "fault" becomes irrelevant. the poor dear. she just sat there. in that closet. telling her self, "well, i always thought you were pretty," and "why doesn't anyone want in?" over and over again, until the simple phrases just became rhythmic sounds echoing in small places that no one would ever hear. not in real life. not as it truly was when it happened. and when manifesting tears became too exhausting, she took to staring up at the little pull rope light switch or whatever it would be called. it swayed slightly. her mouth and eyes half open. a memorable perspective. then came sleep.
went to bed with wet hair
now i itch all over
wondering how many times i've fallen
asleep in the bath
secretly hoping something bad happens.
at the same time,
it's a nice place to fall asleep.
and would be a pleasant way to go.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me?
i'll lose my eyes
put them out
burnt by smokes and useless
i dropped my pen twice
my ovaries hurt
and your back is beautiful
always thought i had cat's eyes
they see to much and nothing
soon it'll be fire. fire.
oh. shit. i thought we'd fixed it.
i always think that.
write about it erratically.
where is everyone
do you know where i am
please let me know
don't stop that song. it's too nice.
i've taken to pulling out my hair again.
i need to drink faster. think slower.
that's the ticket.
badly is a word. it is. to me.
let's look it up. shall we?
well, it's not there. in that book.
i don't think people like to flirt
in public places
because they secretly want to keep
their options open. what. yeah. i think that.
photographs. photographs. photographs.
we lick our sores
our cuts and bruises
to clean them out
or at least perform
some ritual.
all the nights i couldn't sleep without you.
kites will get caught in trees
so i'll stand taller. be a better man.
revitalized on windy days
despite the difficulties of folding papers
where everyone is trying so hard to stay alive
except the pope. wonder why.
while our president is oh so clever.
how true. how nice.
i'm glad i didn't lie down
take two naps on a nice day
the end of march
something about madness
in the future, golf
courses will be made
out of metal.
kids will play
in plastic boxes.
they already do.
oh yeah.
i hope the trees
come to life.
kill us all.
eat us up
like sandwiches.
fleece makes me
suicidal.
i mean that.
i used to take too much comfort
in other people. now i find
i spend too much time alone,
convincing myself i'm all i'll ever need.
i only half believe that.
i'll always have the music.
and the oral pacification of squares.
i'm gonna swing and smoke.
there it go.
+
3.24.2005
i might disintegrate into thin air if you like.
apparently i need to knock some more screws loose in order to make things work.
which evidently means standing on big rocks and singing along to the moon and antarctica on my cigarette break. that is that.
hey boy, getta sweater right now.
[sometimes people who generally don't like hip hop or rap really piss me off. how can you say that. or be so broad. that's ignorant. i can understand taste, but it seems like a decision based solely upon a distaste from the popular forms. i don't know. it just seems like there's a real lack of introduction. don't know where i'm going with this. i just don't understand opinions that seem to derive from the influence of pop music.]
mah ha ha.
+
apparently i need to knock some more screws loose in order to make things work.
which evidently means standing on big rocks and singing along to the moon and antarctica on my cigarette break. that is that.
hey boy, getta sweater right now.
[sometimes people who generally don't like hip hop or rap really piss me off. how can you say that. or be so broad. that's ignorant. i can understand taste, but it seems like a decision based solely upon a distaste from the popular forms. i don't know. it just seems like there's a real lack of introduction. don't know where i'm going with this. i just don't understand opinions that seem to derive from the influence of pop music.]
listening to sad songs again.
brings about the first
of few good memories
some moment of peace had
years ago on dirt roads
near ditches
the first of many many
cigarettes and nights
i never slept.
brought to empty shores
very salty nights next to stars
visions i tried so hard to capture forever
but cried instead; had a drink.
and now i am reinvented
doing to same to these songs
what's left to see
i've heard them all before
and found that sounds consistently change
from time to time.
i can live with that
but all i feel
is the cold that you left
i'll try. enjoy the old
for its vintage color
its musty stale smell
and continue to be redefined
in every instance
gathering perspectives
or a fresh nuance
every now and again.
mah ha ha.
+
3.22.2005
i hope he kicks the bucket.
his brains all bashed in.
ohdontlookso shocked.
everyone is lying to me
i saw what they've been hiding
last night i burnt my face off
just trying to be beautiful.
i drove around town
recycling good memories and old tin cans
did eight loads of laundry.
went grocery shopping.
we'll eat like kings now
i bought a lot of potatoes
and about twelve cans of tomatoes
i didn't mean for those to rhyme
it's just the truth.
spent the night alone
it was nice to share myself solely with the night again.
i anticipate hot summer nights;
comparable to nothing.
where i'll drive around town
do the matronly things i so rarely get to do.
[there was an older man at the laundromat. he was wearing black converse and brown socks. topped by black pants. thick black frames and a green sweater. he was really adorable. said hello when i came back to put my clean clothes in the dryer. i said goodbye when i left to go home. he was an interesting little man. while my clothes were drying i sat listening to headphones and stared at him. Contemplated asking him to dance.
a few hours later i saw the same man at grounds for thought. i had moments prior told several people about our quiet little interlude. after he had passed, and we had timidly smiled at one another, i excitedly pointed him out to a friend, who said that he was a regular. he always pays for coffee in two dollar bills and sacagawea coins.]+
oh dear. there there.
you don't want that.
you don't want that yet at all.
i know you. and there would be so empty.
for the whole lot. for everyone.
especially you. just think.
there there. oh dear. my dear.
of all the foolish thoughts.
let's calm your mind. shall we.
let's together sooth and pacify
those silly notions.
coming out of nowhere. i know.
there there i know.
you should try and dream more sweetly.
you don't want that. really.
come now. really.
i don't know how much more i can take.
i know. i know.
there there.
poor mom
and poor dad
poor brothers and
grandmother.
friends i guess.
poor everything i'd
never see. too bad.
poor you and poor me.
silly little notions
they creep so softly
into the foregrounds of
everyday thinking.
poor poor poor.
that is what this is.
and that is why this is this.
and that is intangible. so sad.
what a pity.
somedays we just can't help ourselves.
somedays we just can't help ourselves.
somedays it doesn't matter
and everything is shot to hell.
what did we expect.
too bad.
but what is this really.
i'm too futile. too bleak.
longing to see this so-called larger
spectrum on life. i'd like that.
i long to see it. over every horizon line.
everything seems so misplaced
and out of order. can't reach
a damn thing.
well. what's the use.
when they can call whenever they want.
they can call me whatever they want.
it's true. and i have no say
nor a frame of reference
as to whether or not they
or i am right.
do what you will
all i'll say is
i wish you saw me then.
i wish you had seen me
at the perfect honest moments.
the more i tried to draw you in
the clearer our separation became.
should have kept quiet
and you could have done the same.
such a sorry secret
it seems we've lost our way
and there's absolutely no one
real enough to save us.
assisting in direction.
it's not that we are far too gone
too lost to find the answers
it's a case of non-existence
everyone who helps, brings hope,
is in the atoms of the air.
they speak
and i've been listening for years
but how am i to reply
to something so abstruse
all in accidental witnessings
fleeting instances
i don't know why i wrote this.
there are special people who come from out of nowhere. they simply pop into our lives and there they are. at first they don't mean a great deal. there is something about them, that you can't put your finger on. something something. something. what is it. there's a feeling. you like them. you do. on a simplistic, yet endearing level. nothing special. you have interesting exchanges. odd exchanges. something leading up to something. it's peculiar. can't explain it. and then, all of the sudden, this person is secretly and miraculously channeled to someother aspect of your life. a place you never would have expected them to appear. but there they are. and actually they've materialized in a place you would have least expected. a place you never ever ever imagined they would reside in. and there they are. they have entered a very important, extremely special and secretly intimate part of your life. and they have somehow managed to completely fuck it up. they fuck it up so royally that whenever you think about that time, or their face, which should have absolutely no fucking merit in your mind at all, you begin to get nauseas and dizzy and so disconcerted that you begin to cry and regress back to an instance when something so absolutely terrible, so tremendously devastating and emotionally cataclysmic (that is the perfect fucking word) happened that it doesn't even seem like it was a real thing. or that is was you and they and in real time or real emotion or real delirium.
and i will fucking despise that person until the day i die.
you consistent ruiner.
you pompous, pretentious, bombastic, chichi mother fucker.
i hope your life is a miserable let down
and your children are ugly and huge blundering, untalented athletes.
i hope they're all thumbs.
a bunch fucking maladroits.
his brains all bashed in.
ohdontlookso shocked.
everyone is lying to me
i saw what they've been hiding
last night i burnt my face off
just trying to be beautiful.
i drove around town
recycling good memories and old tin cans
did eight loads of laundry.
went grocery shopping.
we'll eat like kings now
i bought a lot of potatoes
and about twelve cans of tomatoes
i didn't mean for those to rhyme
it's just the truth.
spent the night alone
it was nice to share myself solely with the night again.
i anticipate hot summer nights;
comparable to nothing.
where i'll drive around town
do the matronly things i so rarely get to do.
[there was an older man at the laundromat. he was wearing black converse and brown socks. topped by black pants. thick black frames and a green sweater. he was really adorable. said hello when i came back to put my clean clothes in the dryer. i said goodbye when i left to go home. he was an interesting little man. while my clothes were drying i sat listening to headphones and stared at him. Contemplated asking him to dance.
a few hours later i saw the same man at grounds for thought. i had moments prior told several people about our quiet little interlude. after he had passed, and we had timidly smiled at one another, i excitedly pointed him out to a friend, who said that he was a regular. he always pays for coffee in two dollar bills and sacagawea coins.]+
she could make life
a little easier
breaking blisters
bandaging our bleeding thumbs
oh dear. there there.
you don't want that.
you don't want that yet at all.
i know you. and there would be so empty.
for the whole lot. for everyone.
especially you. just think.
there there. oh dear. my dear.
of all the foolish thoughts.
let's calm your mind. shall we.
let's together sooth and pacify
those silly notions.
coming out of nowhere. i know.
there there i know.
you should try and dream more sweetly.
you don't want that. really.
come now. really.
i don't know how much more i can take.
i know. i know.
there there.
poor mom
and poor dad
poor brothers and
grandmother.
friends i guess.
poor everything i'd
never see. too bad.
poor you and poor me.
silly little notions
they creep so softly
into the foregrounds of
everyday thinking.
poor poor poor.
that is what this is.
and that is why this is this.
and that is intangible. so sad.
what a pity.
somedays we just can't help ourselves.
somedays we just can't help ourselves.
somedays it doesn't matter
and everything is shot to hell.
what did we expect.
too bad.
but what is this really.
i'm too futile. too bleak.
longing to see this so-called larger
spectrum on life. i'd like that.
i long to see it. over every horizon line.
everything seems so misplaced
and out of order. can't reach
a damn thing.
well. what's the use.
when they can call whenever they want.
they can call me whatever they want.
it's true. and i have no say
nor a frame of reference
as to whether or not they
or i am right.
do what you will
all i'll say is
i wish you saw me then.
i wish you had seen me
at the perfect honest moments.
the more i tried to draw you in
the clearer our separation became.
should have kept quiet
and you could have done the same.
such a sorry secret
it seems we've lost our way
and there's absolutely no one
real enough to save us.
assisting in direction.
it's not that we are far too gone
too lost to find the answers
it's a case of non-existence
everyone who helps, brings hope,
is in the atoms of the air.
they speak
and i've been listening for years
but how am i to reply
to something so abstruse
all in accidental witnessings
fleeting instances
i don't know why i wrote this.
i don't know why i wrote this.
hm.
everyone is such a liar.
so i listened to liars today.
on my headphones.
and today bogdan was a saviour.
there are special people who come from out of nowhere. they simply pop into our lives and there they are. at first they don't mean a great deal. there is something about them, that you can't put your finger on. something something. something. what is it. there's a feeling. you like them. you do. on a simplistic, yet endearing level. nothing special. you have interesting exchanges. odd exchanges. something leading up to something. it's peculiar. can't explain it. and then, all of the sudden, this person is secretly and miraculously channeled to someother aspect of your life. a place you never would have expected them to appear. but there they are. and actually they've materialized in a place you would have least expected. a place you never ever ever imagined they would reside in. and there they are. they have entered a very important, extremely special and secretly intimate part of your life. and they have somehow managed to completely fuck it up. they fuck it up so royally that whenever you think about that time, or their face, which should have absolutely no fucking merit in your mind at all, you begin to get nauseas and dizzy and so disconcerted that you begin to cry and regress back to an instance when something so absolutely terrible, so tremendously devastating and emotionally cataclysmic (that is the perfect fucking word) happened that it doesn't even seem like it was a real thing. or that is was you and they and in real time or real emotion or real delirium.
and i will fucking despise that person until the day i die.
you consistent ruiner.
you pompous, pretentious, bombastic, chichi mother fucker.
i hope your life is a miserable let down
and your children are ugly and huge blundering, untalented athletes.
i hope they're all thumbs.
a bunch fucking maladroits.
3.17.2005
consistently dissatisfied.*
someone just sneezed so loudly.
here's something from 2001:
[it strikes me that i have had the same dilemmas in life for as long as i can remember. if i retrace my steps it seems nothing has really changed much except the times. i am very self-centered. i didn't think i was but maybe i was wrong this whole time. i say i too much. god damn god damn.]
that was the manipulated dialogue of a poker game.
no i'm serious.
we like the homologous chromosomes.
the sister chromotids
daughter cells.
..people get drunk on this day..*i think i'll join in.
someone just sneezed so loudly.
here's something from 2001:
settle for less.
enjoy what you have.
appreciate and cherish it.
the glass is always
half full.
fake that smile.
good for you.
[it strikes me that i have had the same dilemmas in life for as long as i can remember. if i retrace my steps it seems nothing has really changed much except the times. i am very self-centered. i didn't think i was but maybe i was wrong this whole time. i say i too much. god damn god damn.]
when you're up
it might take a minute
you went and cut me off
mice are having their way
they found the flavours
pair of fives; jack high
god damn god damn
i'm no gambler
but i just can't stop
naked lady cards and visors
i like to feel like a boy
but it's getting more popular
it's your deal
i'll slap that smile right off your face
look it's gone
when you're down
you stay down.
that was the manipulated dialogue of a poker game.
no i'm serious.
we like the homologous chromosomes.
the sister chromotids
daughter cells.
..people get drunk on this day..*i think i'll join in.
3.15.2005
i am very neurotic today. i feel absolutely out of my mind.
i'm ovulating.
here's more stupid:
*
[i felt like writing a cheesy metaphorical love poem. it got out of hand but i think it's funny. which is the point.]
*
*
[i just creeped myself out a lot. i feed myself such lies. i don't know where they come from. some days i don't remember what actually happened and what my brain fabricated. it makes me very sad and confused and frantic.]
*
*
[the church ladies and i agree that masturbation's not enough]
*
*
church ladies and i
agree that masturbation
is just not enough
*
***
[i'm not having a very good time. i don't have anything to say. i've lost all motivation. i'd like to hide away for a long time. i'd like to be dead. especially during those moments of gladness where i recognize that i am happy, and fear the inevitable sadness that will soon enough be knocking on my door. i'd like to be done with life during those points. because i am so scared of going back there. it's like a haunted house i have to live in. i'm like persephone. because i've eaten seeds of truth (i don't know what that means exactly) i'm forced to live with Hades for the majority of the year. in a miserable underworld. wow. that was really random. my insides hurt a lot. i'm hoping that they're hunger pains, not youvedestroyedanotherpartofyourbody pains. i live in a very strange world in my head. more that anything i want to take someone up there with me. but i've realized how impossible that is. the more you attempt to draw people into yourself, the more you make yourself feel separated. and maybe that's not true at all, but that's how i've been seeing things lately. i've had this overwhelming sense of inevitability lately. the inevitability of death and sorrow and decay and everything painful really. it's all going to happen. i can do most things on my own lately. so i'm not too worried. i still love very deeply. that's also an inevitability. i can't help loving as much as i do. things are very strange now. things have been strange for some time. i'm only sort of writing anymore. it's all just kind of coming to me at random. my inability to maintain the clarity of my mind, or the comfort of living, or satisfaction in myself, happiness, these are all inevitabilities. i'd like to see the grass made greener. shirts tucked and shoes tied. not really. not at all. i'd like to listen to softer melodies. i'd like to lie in grass during the warmer months. i don't like the delay. i'd like to get out of here. i don't know where i'm leaving exactly or where i might be going to, but the fact of the matter is that i don't like where i am now. sometimes when i've been drinking or whatever, when i'm not sober, i get really confused as to who everyone is. it's like one of those instances where you've stepped outside of yourself, and those who you are closest to become the most obvious stranges. i like it. it's weird and confusing and for a while, makes me forget all of my memories. who are all of these people. i feel like a face in a crowd. two eyes and a mouth in a see of faces. i'd like to yell a lot. i think that might make me feel a little better. i haven't washed my hair since last thursday. it's a good feeling.]
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
..
i'm ovulating.
here's more stupid:
you probably think that catfish dance
on a highwire
tentacle trapeze act
cut in half
my mother is dead
and all of her material possessions
are falling to pieces
i tried to tell her that these things happen.
tried to tell her
i tried to tell her that these things happen.
tried to tell her
i tried to tell her that these things happen.
tried to tell her
*
[i felt like writing a cheesy metaphorical love poem. it got out of hand but i think it's funny. which is the point.]
*
i love you like lisa frank loves
the color pink and puppies
like fire loves oxygen.
or my lungs like air and smoke
equally. you are both.
i love you like the alcoholics
love their beers and vodkas.
and all things pleasantly destructive.
that's not true.
i love you like snow loves to fall
and meteorologists love the sky
like wind loves blowing
like hair loves to grow
and shoes like socks
and socks love feet
and the way that feet love walking.
i love you like scissors love to cut
and pens love writing
like embers love to burn
like stomaches love food
and tongues love tasting
i love you like light loves illuminating
and night likes silence and secrets.
i love the way that
numbers love to add and subtract
divide or multiply
i love you the way that lips like talking
to people they enjoy especially.
and maybe all of these things don't love
the way i had imagined
it's simply just what they do so gladly
it's what is called for in their instances
completely necessary
for existence and production
it is all that needs to be done.
*
[i just creeped myself out a lot. i feed myself such lies. i don't know where they come from. some days i don't remember what actually happened and what my brain fabricated. it makes me very sad and confused and frantic.]
*
really fucking stupid nature
and i just love it. just love it.
have to catch
my breath
some seem the most lustworthy
an animalistic mentality has taken over
wondering if you read words
between too and backwards
hope you have a decoder watch and a condom
the charming biglipped and breasted
speckled skin and exfoliation
i'm no two~timer. but i'm no glancer either.
i like to look
and guess or dream
about secret engagements
and genitalistic interludes
acts of reproductive relationships
and the impossible
after sex cigarettes
those to wrap my lips around
sounds and motions we all desire
every once and all the time
is this the sinful nature
or are we all just too thirsty for
gratification
call it a human rite
consideration varies
with such spiritual animals
i know what i want always
*
counting seconds is a specialty
looking at everything, just to see it,
but taking nothing in at all.
i've tried to be alive every moment
life loses luster quickly
i'd like to let this machine enjoy it
but cause and effect makes for the destruction
of everything i have worked
so hard to have
so i hope you hear me
not knowing why
i'd just like to take comfort
and pleasure
in the warmth of a speckled body
we don't even have to clutter the air
with words
i'm sure you do hear
but we always convince ourselves
that they're talking to someone else
i'd like to give love
listen to harmonious melodies
find solace against skin
a softer body
my mind is not clearer
connections may be had
i don't know who you are
then again who am i
there's so much to work with.
*
always knew i was a dancer
but i move to my own pace apparently
maybe nothing's perfect
that's an actuality
i forget things sometimes
the burdens of the dreamers
i'd like to think that's okay
i'd also like to think
i love you
that thought extends to everyone
and not on purpose
that's just the way things are
i'm very affectionate and
endearing
because i love so much
it's just the ones i let in
that kill me
it's just the ones i try to open
that close me in their fingers
in an accidental handshake
an eyeshutting grip
incidental and completely my fault
so i have these internal realizations
it's not all bad, nothing negative
maybe it's exactly what i asked for
at very least what i need for now
nothing is negative when there's growth
*
[the church ladies and i agree that masturbation's not enough]
*
*
church ladies and i
agree that masturbation
is just not enough
*
i like them long in the tooth
and the more the better
the fine lined lovers
and high rising numbers
picking up quickly
no need to tell them what to do
older wiser skin
crows feet and smile lines
minds that have been around
i'd like to think
they know what's up.
***
[i'm not having a very good time. i don't have anything to say. i've lost all motivation. i'd like to hide away for a long time. i'd like to be dead. especially during those moments of gladness where i recognize that i am happy, and fear the inevitable sadness that will soon enough be knocking on my door. i'd like to be done with life during those points. because i am so scared of going back there. it's like a haunted house i have to live in. i'm like persephone. because i've eaten seeds of truth (i don't know what that means exactly) i'm forced to live with Hades for the majority of the year. in a miserable underworld. wow. that was really random. my insides hurt a lot. i'm hoping that they're hunger pains, not youvedestroyedanotherpartofyourbody pains. i live in a very strange world in my head. more that anything i want to take someone up there with me. but i've realized how impossible that is. the more you attempt to draw people into yourself, the more you make yourself feel separated. and maybe that's not true at all, but that's how i've been seeing things lately. i've had this overwhelming sense of inevitability lately. the inevitability of death and sorrow and decay and everything painful really. it's all going to happen. i can do most things on my own lately. so i'm not too worried. i still love very deeply. that's also an inevitability. i can't help loving as much as i do. things are very strange now. things have been strange for some time. i'm only sort of writing anymore. it's all just kind of coming to me at random. my inability to maintain the clarity of my mind, or the comfort of living, or satisfaction in myself, happiness, these are all inevitabilities. i'd like to see the grass made greener. shirts tucked and shoes tied. not really. not at all. i'd like to listen to softer melodies. i'd like to lie in grass during the warmer months. i don't like the delay. i'd like to get out of here. i don't know where i'm leaving exactly or where i might be going to, but the fact of the matter is that i don't like where i am now. sometimes when i've been drinking or whatever, when i'm not sober, i get really confused as to who everyone is. it's like one of those instances where you've stepped outside of yourself, and those who you are closest to become the most obvious stranges. i like it. it's weird and confusing and for a while, makes me forget all of my memories. who are all of these people. i feel like a face in a crowd. two eyes and a mouth in a see of faces. i'd like to yell a lot. i think that might make me feel a little better. i haven't washed my hair since last thursday. it's a good feeling.]
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
..
3.03.2005
***
life loses luster quickly
it has its moments
eight percent of the time i'm sad
that is the statistic
can't help it; i try.
and you can't help thinking i don't
i've never been on any sort of a roll
please, tell me again
of the demons haunting creative minds
how interesting panic is
when i tell you how my day went
i'd expect no less than lack of interest
and understanding
as you abruptly make to take your leave
no sympathy, please.
that isn't what i'm after.
don't be mistaken.
i just like to hear you contradict yourself
after an existential monologue
you covered your ears,
coughed up some selfish rendition of life
i appreciate your honesty, i do.
in that you don't pretend to care
i won't pretend i don't.
* * * * * * * * * * *
the simple birds never
leave their nests
they build upon them yearly
creating more comfort
i am no simple bird
***
life loses luster quickly
it has its moments
eight percent of the time i'm sad
that is the statistic
can't help it; i try.
and you can't help thinking i don't
i've never been on any sort of a roll
please, tell me again
of the demons haunting creative minds
how interesting panic is
when i tell you how my day went
i'd expect no less than lack of interest
and understanding
as you abruptly make to take your leave
no sympathy, please.
that isn't what i'm after.
don't be mistaken.
i just like to hear you contradict yourself
after an existential monologue
you covered your ears,
coughed up some selfish rendition of life
i appreciate your honesty, i do.
in that you don't pretend to care
i won't pretend i don't.
* * * * * * * * * * *
the simple birds never
leave their nests
they build upon them yearly
creating more comfort
i am no simple bird
***
3.01.2005
i keep my ashtray
on the cold side of the bed
where no one will sleep
*
stand up and clean yourself off
there are things to be done
in this life, on this day
you have work to do
i can't, i'm trying
i don't know how
i don't know how to do anything
would you rather be sitting there
crying to and over yourself
looking around to see if anyone
notices how weak you are
no, i'd rather be catatonic
i'd rather live alone
so as to not subject others
to who i am
so that no one will take to time
to figure me out
and realize what i waste i was
the rational side never wins
that's too bad sometimes
my irrational side will be the death of me,
very literally
you can try and step back from both,
but you'll only realize
that you have no idea
who you are or why you're crying
*
i don't know what's wrong with me
i can't make sense of anything
i've lost the comfort of living
and i'm pretty sure everyone thinks
i'm ridiculous,
which is fine. i believe them.
and i'm sorry to all.
i wish there were something i could do.
i've determined i'm my only help.
i'm so sorry- i'm so sorry.
i've tried so hard
you'd never know how hard i've tried.
everyday i say to myself
all the things i can
to make it
i've forced myself
but i'm tired now.
i feel i've run out of options
maybe i haven't
but i've lost the drive to look.
all i want is rest
but my back aches from sleeping
i've tried really hard, i have.
more that you could ever know.
but i am so tired.
i don't want this.
and i don't want to subject it
to anyone anymore.
*
witnessing myself in tears
brings to mind my mothers face
i see hers in mine and
recall the childhood instances
when i was introduced,
confused and taken aback by
recognizing the absolute
frailties of the human spirit,
the actualities of life,
the true existence of sorrow
and the honest pain of grief.
realizing that age brings no
security or solace.
*
emotions come and go quickly
i can never tell when to take them
seriously- positively- negatively.
they just flutter in and take over
on the days i don't have the capacity
to put them in captivity
to cage and consider these dangerous birds,
make them the flightless,
they carry me away on white strings
either up to clouds, into rain
or drop me in the nearest ditch
to soak in sewage.
they are the ravens
that pull upon the heart strings
and very willingly carry me along
throughout the wet winter months
while i frantically float in midair
fearing the instances in which the decide
to let go.
*
looked nice- she looked real nice
all skin tone
and glossy, painted eyes
i may have meant glassy
her lips appearing swollen
i wish i could forget that face
and that we ever breathed
in such close proximity
the same air passed
through both our lungs practically
you have the attentive gaze still
and i think of all the words that dropped
before they reached your ears
every important thought
that everyone forgot i said.
*
sometimes i just go absolutely mad with sadness and i lose every ounce of rational thought and attempting to retrieve it only brings about more feelings of insanity i don't feel crazy-no not literally insane just so intensely off base that i lose it and i don't even know what :it: is but regardless it's gone and i feel so bad about it i feel so shamed by it so guilty i feel like a wretched person like people don't know me anymore and i don't know myself,
*
that was all yesterday, and today is today. let's go fail some bio, because i couldn't resist the satisfaction of writing, instead of the alternate, unfavorable studying. that poem about the birds is for kelly.
= all these words must have some meaning . .
2.24.2005
i'm don't know what i'm saying
i have to do this to understand myself
put some clarity to my thoughts
feel emotionally and sexually satisfied
i get off to this love
if i could fuck myself, i would
and if that were enough
i could live alone completely
safe and sound in solitude
i wouldn't be so scared
of the periodic spells of overwhelming
loneliness and my aesthetic falibilities
i wouldn't be so give
wouldn't mind the absence of my take
+
change the act of sight
she said
eyelids fluttered frantically
while i slept that night
dreaming
about wolves
just like my dad did
the eyes rolled back
in the sockets
and exposed slivers of bloodshot
white
wrapped in lashes
still in rapid eye cycle i
half woke up and paralyzed i
lie there
whimpering and water
filled fogged my vision
i heard coyotes howling at the full
moon and i thought
the whole ordeal seemed reminiscent of
everything cheap
or some cliched phrase
making it all the more
frightening
+
i crawled across the counter to you
staring up with eyes red and swollen
bloodshot and frantically wet
screaming bloody murder about
something i don't know
i don't even remember
but you weren't even there
and neither was i
actually i was sitting in my car
dreaming about how i wished
something like that would happen
in fact
i don't even know where you are
but i knew you'd get there
+
i think everything is okay
when i'm alone
i go in and out of knowing myself
i can never really tell
but that's alright with me as long
as i know where i stand
sometimes i get too hypertonic
i shrivel up, insides shrinking
it's uncomfortable, it kills
i don't want that, you don't mean it
i know where you stand
but whatever, what's the hurry
+
i ran into a fortyfive on the street the other day and i said hey i was just thinkin about you and he asked me how i was so i gave the obvious answer then he told me we had a date to make but not right now not yet he'd catch up with me later on down the road i said oh and didn't know whether or not i should be disappointed but i guess it's okay i suppose i can wait a while longer for us to finally place our mouths over one another and my eyes and words will dart like bullets my teeth will click like hammers when i smile and life will be lived very fast until that final day life will be a pistol.
*
i have to do this to understand myself
put some clarity to my thoughts
feel emotionally and sexually satisfied
i get off to this love
if i could fuck myself, i would
and if that were enough
i could live alone completely
safe and sound in solitude
i wouldn't be so scared
of the periodic spells of overwhelming
loneliness and my aesthetic falibilities
i wouldn't be so give
wouldn't mind the absence of my take
+
change the act of sight
she said
eyelids fluttered frantically
while i slept that night
dreaming
about wolves
just like my dad did
the eyes rolled back
in the sockets
and exposed slivers of bloodshot
white
wrapped in lashes
still in rapid eye cycle i
half woke up and paralyzed i
lie there
whimpering and water
filled fogged my vision
i heard coyotes howling at the full
moon and i thought
the whole ordeal seemed reminiscent of
everything cheap
or some cliched phrase
making it all the more
frightening
+
i crawled across the counter to you
staring up with eyes red and swollen
bloodshot and frantically wet
screaming bloody murder about
something i don't know
i don't even remember
but you weren't even there
and neither was i
actually i was sitting in my car
dreaming about how i wished
something like that would happen
in fact
i don't even know where you are
but i knew you'd get there
+
i think everything is okay
when i'm alone
i go in and out of knowing myself
i can never really tell
but that's alright with me as long
as i know where i stand
sometimes i get too hypertonic
i shrivel up, insides shrinking
it's uncomfortable, it kills
i don't want that, you don't mean it
i know where you stand
but whatever, what's the hurry
+
i ran into a fortyfive on the street the other day and i said hey i was just thinkin about you and he asked me how i was so i gave the obvious answer then he told me we had a date to make but not right now not yet he'd catch up with me later on down the road i said oh and didn't know whether or not i should be disappointed but i guess it's okay i suppose i can wait a while longer for us to finally place our mouths over one another and my eyes and words will dart like bullets my teeth will click like hammers when i smile and life will be lived very fast until that final day life will be a pistol.
*
2.17.2005
i like to think about all the lives i have created in my mind. dozens and dozens of fabricated relationships, scenarios and instances lived throughout my life. i can visit them when i want, or drop them when i lose interest. humans are consistently searching for their "ideal" mate, i feel. it's pretty aimless and there is no merit or true value in daydreams. but i find myself doing it a lot. i have held so many people in my imaginary arms, while i reach for sleep. and they will never ever know. i think it is beautiful. it's best though, is when you don't even personally know the individual you are attracted to, because to you they are perfect, and in imaginary scenarios, you are perfect to them. i tend to do this a lot with artists. i'll witness their art and maybe see a face, and "love" them in my own head. better yet, daydreaming about someone all the time, you get them, and then you keep day dreaming about them. i day dream a lot. today i didn't want to do anything but day dream. i didn't want to "go" anywhere, so i stayed up in my head. i was perfectly content in my own little world throughout the entire day, until i got home, when the only time i can correctly day dream is before i fall asleep. i wish i could feel better. i'm sick of myself. not sick however, of devendra banhart. never ever. he is very soothing. he makes me cry sweet, relieving tears. he makes me feel like my sins have been washed away. i feel very blasphemous saying that. but that is my description of devendra banhart. modest mouse makes me feel like i'm okay. like i'm not a bad person, and i can be sad and that's fine. i won't be judged, because maybe the next time i listen to them, they will make me euphoric. these are two incredibly different reactions created by musicians. i hope that someday i am capable of making something that will impact someone's life in such a way. i want to make someone feel like they are okay, and it's okay to be sad. and i would never ever judge them. not ever. i'd like to communicate love to someone i don't know. i do this in my mind everyday. and i wonder who hears me. i wonder if the people i do know and do love hear my love as accurately and loudly as i'd like them to. i wish they would. i really do. can you hear me? please do. this is a clear and simple message.
when did i feel that i deserved the right to write a poem. or construct words as i please. what gives me the right to communicate any sort of a message to anyone else.
+
why are you so
good
i sit in corners staring off
into the space of the eyes
and open mouths of everyone
cluttering the air with words
making me dizzy.
be so better to me
i know you do
we can, in a very concentrated way,
stare so blankly, acknowledgements combust
i believe in telepathy
it makes sense
so comforting to know we read minds
i like that connection, i live for it.
striving in a crowd of too many
verbal interactions about nothing
andso onsoforth
just looking for the face i want to meet
so i feel better
needing that security
because i've gotten so weak.
it is good
+
when did i feel that i deserved the right to write a poem. or construct words as i please. what gives me the right to communicate any sort of a message to anyone else.
2.10.2005
Dear honourable gentleperson,
Thank you, and your curiosity, for said interest. I hope in some
small fashion you wouldn¹t mind if I included you on an infrequent letter of
events and up-standing releases.
Yours truly, Daedelus
p.s. graciously accepted, and returned for your listenership.
> 1. comments = thank you.
this made me happy, and i like to think that it was written personally to me. i'm blasting my ears out in a quiet room. everyone is listening to modest mouse with me. because it's so goddamn loud. last night i had terrible dreams. i dreamt that i was cheated on. and woke up crying. then i dreamt that i was at work with my mom, and brother, and from down that hall my mother and i heard my brother coughing and making these horrible guttural noises. i said to her, "something is very wrong with him." and as he approached, crawling towards us, he came into the light and was turning into a werewolf. he had claws and tufts of hair growing around his neck and face, and his eyes were crazy. they were red and full of insanity. i went up to him, and he knocked me onto my back, and pressed my down. i could have moved, but i didn't, because i love him, and wanted him to bite me too, so that i could be a werewolf, even though i didn't really want to be one. so i just lie there. and he sunk his teeth into my gut, and i felt him eating me. he didn't exactly eat me, but i felt the pressure of having my flesh pulled off. it didn't hurt, but was very unnerving. then, all of the sudden, there was a shot of my mom saying, very blandly as she looked on, "no one should have to see this." and then i woke up, and hunched into a ball, cradling my stomache, and crying. that was my night. but before that i wrote these things:
coming home to an empty house
i've found myself putting ketchup on most things
i can have all the pills i want he said
it's a grand existence
away from existence
it's a dog eat dog
me eat pills world.
cat and mouse i'm told
then the dog eats the cat
and down goes the farm
........ +
we are lonely, we are so alone
in this big house
can't help being so sad in this case
it's been forgotten that this is what we wanted
well aware that this is what we need
can't complain, can't complain, can't complain..
the street lights vibrate
should we go back to where we started?
can we even?
the possibilities remain irrelevant always
we don't need a phone here
is the door unlocked?
where did we go wrong?
it's night time again and time again
and i forgot to check the mailbox.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +
did i hurt someone's feelings
did i tell a lie-no i'd never do that
i would never ever ever ever do that
to anyone
i feel like a ghost
a puff of smokethat no one sees
because it's cold and we're all breathing
heavily in the frigid air
it seems nothing could ever make it warm again
nothing could ever make our eyes less glassy
we could never smell any better
than we do right now
this period in time has paused
on a negative degree
and humanity is so distant
that we are all freezing
that's why it's so cold
the buttons fell off of everyone's winter coats
and we've all been exposed. and alarmed by too much
bitterness and truth
there's no sense in rekindling anthing.
no sense in warmth here
come to think of it
i've lost all desire. and motivation is gone
i'll just sit back and wait for my train to arrive
****************** * +
i love looking up at just the right moment.
it's a rare delight.
people talking downstairs
outside. shit the car door.
wanna do some coke.
who the fuck are you?
oh, I'm sorry. i thought you were
knocking.
huh.what.oh.yeah,no.
shut another door in a stranger's face.
gladly-gladly.
get outta my fucking hallway.
whoever the hell you are.
it's not okay. it's nt ohKAY!
yes it isshutup.
i've gotta knife
i'll gut you like a fish
and sell your parts
at the farmer's market.
you sly sons of bitches
why are you even around
anymore.
this is no good.
------------- + _ -
what a weird world we live in
soak up the view of the hydrosphere
absorb it all with a wet rag
the ladies love me
i eat them up
teeth, bones and all-smack
my reproductive system
is a very pleasurable parasite
can't say no.
the women crave me
i so desperately want to not be here
i want, so desperately, to be somewhere else
with you.
didn't want to sleep alone last night
and i don't want to be anyone anymore.
modestmouseiloveyou.
i'm a descendent of captain morgan, the pirate. ask my gram. she'll tell you. it's true.
1.31.2005
We're just holding on to nothing
To see how long nothing lasts
that's one of my favorite song lyrics. i'm sad, so i'm listening to sea change. that always seems to do the trick. feeding that melancholy. it's comforting. i'm also really tired. that may be why i'm sad. i'm really tired. i feel like a little kid who didn't get their nap, and now i'm rubbing my eyes and frowning and moaning a little. whimper. i feel strange. i think i want to hide in my house for a few days. tomorrow i have to look for a second job, so that i can make rent. i think it'll work out okay. it shouldn't be too incredibly hard, just this first payment, because i have to make a school payment at the exact same time. so i am certainly pressing myself. but oh well. i like the challenge. except for when i get stressed and break out in hives. i can make the payments with the job i have now, but i have to save for this summer. i don't like sad. or tired, because i'm hearing shit. for some reason i considered staying up all night, but i'm not going to do that. bad idea. no fun. no fun at all. yeah, but i keep thinking about things that make me sad, and i'd like to stop. i'd like to get off this now, thank you. i hate itchy eyes. sad eyes. i'm going to finish my job now, so that i can go home and to bed with me. i feel very overwhelmed with emotion right now. not all bad emotions, actually some very lovely ones. but they are disrupting the interior of my lonely brain. it's dark in there. and full of moths.
++++ + ++ +++ + + +
Go to sleep
We're so tired now
Altogether in a snake pit of souls
New days
Throw your chains away
Try to hang your hopes on the wind
Little one
Just a little way
Today all we need is waiting
Night rise
Like the evening prize
In a turnstile backwards we fly
Cold bones
Tied together by
Black ropes we pulled from a [sleigh]
Little one
Just a little way
Today all of the dreams are waking
Can't stand on crooked legs
I'm cross-eyed to the wall
In these harbor lights
Satellites [explode]
Drown, drown
Sailors run aground
In a seachange nothing is safe
Strange waves
Push us every way
In a stolen boat we'll float away
Little one
Just a little way
Today all we need waiting
Little one
Just a little way
Today all of the dreams are waking
Little one
Hold on
All of the dreams are waking
(-) (-)(---) (- -) (-) - --- -- - - -
1.27.2005
(honey bees and parentheses)
well, i just went to poetry.com to try and read all the poems i wrote many years ago, and i couldn't. i have no idea why. it wouldn't let me. anyway. today was something else. i don't think i am going to go to bed tonight. i drank a lot of coffee, and i'm sure that if i try to sleep, i'll just end up lying in my bed for three or four hours and gradually become more and more uncomfortable. then i'll get up and take a second bath, {i always take one before i go to bed} smoke a cigarette in the tub, which has become one of my favorite things, read art in america, and then i'll feel more uninteresting and unoriginal and boring than i've felt in a long time. i'll think about growing old and getting married and having some man say to me, "let's have a baby," then being pregnant, having kids, being an art teacher, getting old, and then dying. and i'll cry myself to sleep. not really. but that scenario i just presented scares the shit out of me. shivers up my spine just thinking about it now. i think the most frightening idea i have ever had, was when i drove through the "bird streets" and looked at all the plastic, muted tone houses with their strange, unnatural lawns and their lack of vegetation, character and appeal, and i thought, "what if i lived in one of these homes, with my working husband and kids that i had to take to soccer practice. i'd spend my days doing errands that revolved around decorating the house and buying groceries. and i'd be busy as hell doing those things everyday. then i'd pick up my kids, make dinner, and have missionary-style sex with my suit of a husband." ... i just dry-heaved again.
1.21.2005
+ + +++ ++ +
i'd like to talk during daylight
night is good
but almost too concentrated
to properly communicate
when eyes become darker
pupils have dilated
and everyone can see inside
curtain lifted,
the filters through which
we are normally seen
reveal unto others
the actualities
and too much truth
night is the solitary, lonely time
meant for silent thoughts
and the alternate observations
of life.
anything spoken
after the sun sets
should be carefully crafted
and only voiced
through whispers.
+++
++
+
+
+
+
+
i'd like to talk during daylight
night is good
but almost too concentrated
to properly communicate
when eyes become darker
pupils have dilated
and everyone can see inside
curtain lifted,
the filters through which
we are normally seen
reveal unto others
the actualities
and too much truth
night is the solitary, lonely time
meant for silent thoughts
and the alternate observations
of life.
anything spoken
after the sun sets
should be carefully crafted
and only voiced
through whispers.
+++
++
+
+
+
+
+
1.15.2005
*
*
*
have a pleasant holiday
at some point within today
i developed a love for humans
and accurately communicated with love
understanding a futuristic reality
but denying it pessimism
by playing pretend
and fabricating lovely lives
so there.
on days like today
everything is so blatantly truthful
i can't see shadows
despite the recognition
because juices were flowing
and i wish we couldn't help ourselves
but don't care so much, not much
there is such sincerity, don't worry
think once and finally for yourself
i'm not concerned about now or then,
and there.
each separate moment is far too important
and i wish we couldn't help ourselves.
"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'''"""''''''''' '' "
everything's caught up in this bluster
november balloons walk across the ceiling-
inch by inch- it's january
blankets blowing in the breeze
we'll all get sucked out that window
i'll let everything go
watch objects fly into outerspace
what am i saying,
they'll never make it that far.
but i like to think they try.
i'll watch that balloon
manipulated and abused by the wind-
best thing ever seen.
maybe i'll get distracted-
let my guard down
and at that moment
instantly be
absorbed by this violent act of nature-
a freak accident
:girl sucked into outerspace.
mysteries surrounding how it is
she made it that far:
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >> <<>>
pillars of quivering white
i love the light, and objects dancing
a distant and righteous tower
of Babel; forces pointing upward
directing spiritual growth
my nights are black & white
grey is a technicality
a curtain
a veil, guards the atmosphere
making more evident the glistening material
soft and cold, landing on right hand,
holding the deadly and dire device
puff. that is tonight
clear and white
not to be neglected.
i appreciate your eyes.
young blood sees.
*
*
*
*
i don't even know how i feel about any of these. i really don't. maybe i like them, but i feel like they're rather blah or trite. who knows. not me. today i am hungry, not for food. but i feel a hunger. days are strange. i don't know if i like them either. i'm pretty sure i do. they're better than they used to be, which is for certain. i think i'm just feeling strange about myself. my perspective of my own person isn't what it usually is. i'm very inquisitive of who i am, like usual, but now the questions are slightly different. they feel irrelevant. i know they are. it's easy to ask myself who i am and what i think about me, but impossible to answer. i'm very excited about giving an eight-year-old art lessons, however. i've been dwelling on it throughout the day, and have come up with some ideas. one of which being that the lessons will primarily coincide with some sort of art history lesson. for instance, learning about picasso, his influence and such. i'll keep it fairly simple considering he's eight, but i think he has a good head on his shoulders and is eager to learn. i want to talk about interesting artistic and abstract concepts. and even if he doesn't get it, the ideas will at least he there, resting in his brain. i look forward to it. especially because this boy asks me a lot of questions about gender roles, and that in itself will be exciting to deal with. we shall see.
*
*
have a pleasant holiday
at some point within today
i developed a love for humans
and accurately communicated with love
understanding a futuristic reality
but denying it pessimism
by playing pretend
and fabricating lovely lives
so there.
on days like today
everything is so blatantly truthful
i can't see shadows
despite the recognition
because juices were flowing
and i wish we couldn't help ourselves
but don't care so much, not much
there is such sincerity, don't worry
think once and finally for yourself
i'm not concerned about now or then,
and there.
each separate moment is far too important
and i wish we couldn't help ourselves.
"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'''"""''''''''' '' "
everything's caught up in this bluster
november balloons walk across the ceiling-
inch by inch- it's january
blankets blowing in the breeze
we'll all get sucked out that window
i'll let everything go
watch objects fly into outerspace
what am i saying,
they'll never make it that far.
but i like to think they try.
i'll watch that balloon
manipulated and abused by the wind-
best thing ever seen.
maybe i'll get distracted-
let my guard down
and at that moment
instantly be
absorbed by this violent act of nature-
a freak accident
:girl sucked into outerspace.
mysteries surrounding how it is
she made it that far:
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >> <<>>
pillars of quivering white
i love the light, and objects dancing
a distant and righteous tower
of Babel; forces pointing upward
directing spiritual growth
my nights are black & white
grey is a technicality
a curtain
a veil, guards the atmosphere
making more evident the glistening material
soft and cold, landing on right hand,
holding the deadly and dire device
puff. that is tonight
clear and white
not to be neglected.
i appreciate your eyes.
young blood sees.
*
*
*
*
i don't even know how i feel about any of these. i really don't. maybe i like them, but i feel like they're rather blah or trite. who knows. not me. today i am hungry, not for food. but i feel a hunger. days are strange. i don't know if i like them either. i'm pretty sure i do. they're better than they used to be, which is for certain. i think i'm just feeling strange about myself. my perspective of my own person isn't what it usually is. i'm very inquisitive of who i am, like usual, but now the questions are slightly different. they feel irrelevant. i know they are. it's easy to ask myself who i am and what i think about me, but impossible to answer. i'm very excited about giving an eight-year-old art lessons, however. i've been dwelling on it throughout the day, and have come up with some ideas. one of which being that the lessons will primarily coincide with some sort of art history lesson. for instance, learning about picasso, his influence and such. i'll keep it fairly simple considering he's eight, but i think he has a good head on his shoulders and is eager to learn. i want to talk about interesting artistic and abstract concepts. and even if he doesn't get it, the ideas will at least he there, resting in his brain. i look forward to it. especially because this boy asks me a lot of questions about gender roles, and that in itself will be exciting to deal with. we shall see.
1.10.2005
some man just looked at me and said, "flip-flops?" and i said, "yeah." and he said, "why not, right?" and I said, "sometimes i get claustrophobic, and start to sweat a lot when i wear shoes." and he said, "oh, well, have a good one." and left. i said, "you, too, sir."
nothing pesters me more than calling someone, and having them talk to someone else, while you're trying to talk with them. i try not to do it, because it infuriates the piss out of me. i really start to lose it. i mean, how fucking rude. my mom just did it to me, and lauren does it all the time. and when they laugh at other people, while i sit there and wait for them to shut the fuck up, and let me finish what i was saying. i know i've done it, but i usually catch myself. AH! that's makes me so irritated!
here's something i wrote a while ago:
i wanted to get away
out of my head
for an hour or so
a break from my brain
find contentment in someone else
anything seems better than this
here, with people everywhere
talking and touching
never to me- not even at
so desperate for arms, a tongue
mine aren't good enough
why can't i find solace in myself
why do i need other people to breathe
i have so much to give
to whoever might want it
the select few
i've pointed at
don't appear to interested
after a spell
i'd like to see the grass remain greener
when i get there
and not only from a distance
and here's something i wrote the other day:
windshield wipers don't work
and there's ice in my eyes
hydroplane induced spinouts
fishtailing explosive blowouts
i should have turned around
pay attention
eyes on the road
ash in the ice
i can't
i'm swerving
driving like a maniac
dashboard disaster
dedicated to this dynamite
i think that poem is funny, because i wrote it while i was driving, during an ice storm, when i should have had my hands on the steering wheel. i've sort of come to this weird block. i feel i've covered the same material so many times. it's losing its luster. but i keep writing because i have to. i'm sure that i'll figure it all out. it's just really frustrating right now. right now i'm wearing the pants i made in high school for single survival, an orange and green plaid bathrobe with a huge tear in the back, and a nice blazer that i bought at goodwill the other day. my mom said i look rather fetching, and i don't know how to spell that because we all know i'm a terrible speller. i think i look great. but my insides hurt a lot right now, and i'm really dizzy. i'm listening to "alone in kyoto" and i love this song. i think i'm going to purchase a Polaroid camera- oh that reminds me, here's something i wrote the other night when i was drunk:
a sleeve across the face
the Polaroid pictures
i don't know why i feel at all
stop asking
and pressing
beats into my brain
i understand you, now
i know what the words mean
as i shake and seize
in the snow
it's true
and beautiful
lovely sounds.
for me.
i have to get out of here.
there are those in my pocket
i don't want them,
not at all.
so help me get out-
i would die here
so, it's only up to you-
jesus.
i'll cry for you-
beg.
what's the use?
in trying too hard?
none but love.
i can't handle sounds
i want to leave
only when i drink
and it's too cold
and blowing smoke and blowing air
get off ash- leave me be
i am all alone
and full of your hope
your beats and breath
tongue and cheek
stay forever, this
the music stopped
but it never did
because i kept on writing.
talk about your average nonsense! i know i was listening to radiohead, and i know that i was making less than my normal amount of sense at that instance. and that's about it.
1.05.2005
*
no assistance in sadness
i can't help you
behind the murmur
of numerous voices and conversation
only able to deal with myself
with such an ugly face
the quivering muscles of my chin
sitting and feeling more awkward
than i've felt all night
beyond my social panic attacks
extending multiple layers of depression
i am incoherent
i am incapable of creating solace
and the silence of your thoughts
my nose wrinkles with failure
no one can help anyone
you talk too little
i talk too much
and the other way around
it's cancelled out
and all is for nothing
there's your laugh
the white of your teeth
the squint of eyes
and why did i even try
when you never needed help
fuck the both of us
for ever caring
we don't know anything
and we didn't help
********************************** * ****
left alone and undesirable
screams and cheers don't mean a thing
when together we set, but
you've walked past a million times
all alone
look no hands
who's screaming now
we should bask in psychological solitude
never doing anything
dogs scratching at the door
for our own
heaven sakes
drink this, sit here, and wait
boy and girl together
i had hallucinations of love
how is this emotion imaginably pretendable
all that i know is i cried
that's tangible, right.
that's sincere
you've walked past a million times
while my stomach turned
maybe you kept moving
so that i would.
all the yelling still
told to sit and help, lend a hand, i didn't
i sat,
proving to myself that i have no point
why didn't we land on our feet
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ =+= +++
again this happens
it drips down the walls
tastes like limes and alcohol
reciting my life is all i do
why are these people here
who are they, talking always
loving people, -i do,
but shut up, please.
because now i'm crying over your voices
sounding so sweet
and content with life
i lost that feeling
years ago, it went
out the car window, automatic
six months it feltso nice
my faith in emotion is gone
nothing is reliable, like love
for instance, never knowing
its pessimisms
except in the lovely faces, the new, the fresh
that look so true
and happy for this and that
over something i've never
fully tasted, never will
stop talking
the sounds of security
kill me, cutting deep
do you mean it.
please do.
give me false hope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ ~
i've been hit
like a ton of falling bricks
questioning the silent ones
i think they're picking
my brain apart
but full of misinterpretations
can't stand the smell of it
there's the hollowed sound
of rain hitting snow
i love the fresh air
when it's filtered by smoke
there they are picking
at guitar strings
i am an oyster
we sift through the gutters
i'm all too green
these dark days so great
i want to drive into
a solid brick wall
i've been hit
i've done it again
all too cool and casual
tired and hysterical
*
no assistance in sadness
i can't help you
behind the murmur
of numerous voices and conversation
only able to deal with myself
with such an ugly face
the quivering muscles of my chin
sitting and feeling more awkward
than i've felt all night
beyond my social panic attacks
extending multiple layers of depression
i am incoherent
i am incapable of creating solace
and the silence of your thoughts
my nose wrinkles with failure
no one can help anyone
you talk too little
i talk too much
and the other way around
it's cancelled out
and all is for nothing
there's your laugh
the white of your teeth
the squint of eyes
and why did i even try
when you never needed help
fuck the both of us
for ever caring
we don't know anything
and we didn't help
********************************** * ****
left alone and undesirable
screams and cheers don't mean a thing
when together we set, but
you've walked past a million times
all alone
look no hands
who's screaming now
we should bask in psychological solitude
never doing anything
dogs scratching at the door
for our own
heaven sakes
drink this, sit here, and wait
boy and girl together
i had hallucinations of love
how is this emotion imaginably pretendable
all that i know is i cried
that's tangible, right.
that's sincere
you've walked past a million times
while my stomach turned
maybe you kept moving
so that i would.
all the yelling still
told to sit and help, lend a hand, i didn't
i sat,
proving to myself that i have no point
why didn't we land on our feet
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ =+= +++
again this happens
it drips down the walls
tastes like limes and alcohol
reciting my life is all i do
why are these people here
who are they, talking always
loving people, -i do,
but shut up, please.
because now i'm crying over your voices
sounding so sweet
and content with life
i lost that feeling
years ago, it went
out the car window, automatic
six months it feltso nice
my faith in emotion is gone
nothing is reliable, like love
for instance, never knowing
its pessimisms
except in the lovely faces, the new, the fresh
that look so true
and happy for this and that
over something i've never
fully tasted, never will
stop talking
the sounds of security
kill me, cutting deep
do you mean it.
please do.
give me false hope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ ~
i've been hit
like a ton of falling bricks
questioning the silent ones
i think they're picking
my brain apart
but full of misinterpretations
can't stand the smell of it
there's the hollowed sound
of rain hitting snow
i love the fresh air
when it's filtered by smoke
there they are picking
at guitar strings
i am an oyster
we sift through the gutters
i'm all too green
these dark days so great
i want to drive into
a solid brick wall
i've been hit
i've done it again
all too cool and casual
tired and hysterical
*
1.02.2005
i don't know what i'm saying
i hit my head
my brain swelled up like a leech
the blood the throbbing
pound pound
(um) tell me everything
whadyu say about me (ahk)
when we wore tweed
in the winter weather months
when the walls where falling in
held up by a box spring mattress
and the cats burrowed in em, tore em apart
the ceiling was stained brown and yellow
by sick pipes
bad water
beer bottles- tops, tabs- cigarette butts (what..)
cushion change
in the vacuum bag
i found an entire smoke and five dollars
the cats don't have food or water
litter what litter
it's already been filled to the rim with waste
i'm scared most of the time
especially of the bath room
i'll sit on the couch alone
and try to ignore everything that's moving
in the corners of my eyes
but here i am
here we are
i hit my head
my brain swelled up like a leech
the blood the throbbing
pound pound
(um) tell me everything
whadyu say about me (ahk)
when we wore tweed
in the winter weather months
when the walls where falling in
held up by a box spring mattress
and the cats burrowed in em, tore em apart
the ceiling was stained brown and yellow
by sick pipes
bad water
beer bottles- tops, tabs- cigarette butts (what..)
cushion change
in the vacuum bag
i found an entire smoke and five dollars
the cats don't have food or water
litter what litter
it's already been filled to the rim with waste
i'm scared most of the time
especially of the bath room
i'll sit on the couch alone
and try to ignore everything that's moving
in the corners of my eyes
but here i am
here we are
12.28.2004
12.27.2004
Irrational ridiculous
Absurd
Horrible
Melancholic misery
and
Glum
******************************************** * **
I have so much to say.
And no way to communicate it.
More often I feel
My self-indulgent rantings mean so little.
I question the points and reasons
Knowing I’ll always line up letters
In an attempt to do something or
Dictate
I wouldn’t say that I feel sorry for myself
And maybe that’s because I’m just stupid
I feel diseased
I feel crooked and confused
Always by this two-timing thought process
There’s the ignition
A match that lights the wick
Which is only inches long
Patience isn’t necessarily important
It has nothing to do with sparking brainwaves
I should avoid fire altogether
So here’s the rationale;
The raison d'être:
Well I can’t think of it right now
I had an idea, but forgot
Oh shit.
It seems I’ve done it again
******************************************** *
blah blah and blah.
I'm having a really hard time.
12.20.2004
i've taken to staying in bed. i've taken to sleeping while the sun is out. and it begins to rear its ugly head around seven o'clock in the morning. i don't really know what my deal is. i've lost a lot of desire for things in life. and in order to maintain the most significant affections i have requires me to work really hard to press through all the garbage in my brain. to find the goodness. however, this state, despite it irregularity and emotional cacophony, is almost creatively treating me better than if i felt absolutely fine. it seems that the reasons for living have manifested themselves, and when i do get out of bed, all i really want to do is write or draw or read. i am neglecting a lot of responsibilities. but not really. it could be worse. all of my clothes need cleaned. my fish is still dead in his fishbowl at my other home, and i know that today the owner of the home's sons had to go into my apartment to clean it. i wonder how that went. maybe i'll simply sleep until it all works itself out. i'll socially shut down. i'll make a tent.
***************************** *
{here's some crap}
***************************** *
we know we love
choking eachother down endlessly aimlessly
for the sake of everything bright and beautiful
all clarity all serenity
hands holding on for a final touch
eyes blink to death
at separations sight
isn't it enough
we know we love
to stand rigid in affection
like it’s so desperately serious and necessary
laughing at life's tricks
laugh at its hope
i'll smoke sinister cigarettes
i'll drink darker coffee
caffeinated and sedated
to become a horribly concentrated truth
those stupid acts i resent and perform
(i do too.)
greeting lady lazarus
with a warm handshake
i'm gathering strength
from anticipating misery
sing myself to sleep
a smoker's lullaby
the notes don't come as simply as they used to
mom dad
(motherfather)
i'm fine
oh dear love
remember when
the future took place
in my dreams
day and night, wake, sleep
the finest of lives
so you have always been here
forever stay forever
the death of a dreamer
playing pretend and assembling stories
creating lives to love
and be loved in
forgotten forever in a years time
some have stayed
inhabiting treasured compartments
marching madly in and out of vision
two-timing thought patterns and number nothings
sometimes it produces
wondering when this day will end
to see if the next is better
like most days
like all days
why was i asleep
when did i awake
what happened to the weekend
********************* *
the next part is a bunch of rubbish that the computer made up, but seriously read it. it turned out pretty awesomely peculiar. thyroglobulin.
********************************** * **
Normal
Normal
Default Paragraph Font
Default Paragraph Font
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
ÿ＄
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
C:\My Documents\olin.doc
C:\My Documents\olin.doc
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
A:\olin.docÿ䀀老
Unknownÿ！
Times New Roman
Times New Roman
Symbol
Symbol
we know we love
we know we love
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
we know we love
Valued Gateway Client
Normal
Valued Gateway Client
Microsoft Word 9.0
Gateway
we know we love
Root Entry
1Table
1Table
WordDocument
WordDocument
SummaryInformation
SummaryInformation
DocumentSummaryInformation
DocumentSummaryInformation
CompObj
CompObj
ObjectPool
ObjectPool
Microsoft Word Document
MSWordDoc
Word.Document.8
***************************** *
{here's some crap}
***************************** *
we know we love
choking eachother down endlessly aimlessly
for the sake of everything bright and beautiful
all clarity all serenity
hands holding on for a final touch
eyes blink to death
at separations sight
isn't it enough
we know we love
to stand rigid in affection
like it’s so desperately serious and necessary
laughing at life's tricks
laugh at its hope
i'll smoke sinister cigarettes
i'll drink darker coffee
caffeinated and sedated
to become a horribly concentrated truth
those stupid acts i resent and perform
(i do too.)
greeting lady lazarus
with a warm handshake
i'm gathering strength
from anticipating misery
sing myself to sleep
a smoker's lullaby
the notes don't come as simply as they used to
mom dad
(motherfather)
i'm fine
oh dear love
remember when
the future took place
in my dreams
day and night, wake, sleep
the finest of lives
so you have always been here
forever stay forever
the death of a dreamer
playing pretend and assembling stories
creating lives to love
and be loved in
forgotten forever in a years time
some have stayed
inhabiting treasured compartments
marching madly in and out of vision
two-timing thought patterns and number nothings
sometimes it produces
wondering when this day will end
to see if the next is better
like most days
like all days
why was i asleep
when did i awake
what happened to the weekend
********************* *
the next part is a bunch of rubbish that the computer made up, but seriously read it. it turned out pretty awesomely peculiar. thyroglobulin.
{look down}
********************************** * **
Normal
Normal
Default Paragraph Font
Default Paragraph Font
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
ÿ＄
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
C:\My Documents\olin.doc
C:\My Documents\olin.doc
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
A:\olin.docÿ䀀老
Unknownÿ！
Times New Roman
Times New Roman
Symbol
Symbol
we know we love
we know we love
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
Valued Gateway Client
we know we love
Valued Gateway Client
Normal
Valued Gateway Client
Microsoft Word 9.0
Gateway
we know we love
Root Entry
1Table
1Table
WordDocument
WordDocument
SummaryInformation
SummaryInformation
DocumentSummaryInformation
DocumentSummaryInformation
CompObj
CompObj
ObjectPool
ObjectPool
Microsoft Word Document
MSWordDoc
Word.Document.8
12.16.2004
i press into my thighs
where bones should be
i consistently assume so
the delectable melodic euphony of
tendons and moving muscular tissue
florescent pulsing white lights
and she is all mine
designed for no one else but me
i consistently assume so
*****
all the things that sound
so much better
in my head (?)
contaminated
by a form of tangibility
the inevitable flaw of text
i’d like to see through equivalent
eyes, if you don’t mind
me
perpetually going in and out
the revolving doors
of your brain
*****
we are so frail
so fragile
i am self-sufficient
i am self-reliable
-indulgent
and i don’t need anyone
why are you knocking
why aren’t you knocking harder
for every breath i take
i should hear some sort of sound
the pounding of a heart
the grinding and gnashing of teeth
we are strange carnivorous creatures
licking our chops
with such a taste for red meat
soak up the blood with my bones
and devour them too why don’t you
take as much as you like
i don’t need it or anyone
everything bleeds itself dry eventually anyway
teeth aren’t for smiling
they shouldn’t sparkle
they shouldn’t be so white
only assisting in the fallacies
i forget to breathe
i forget where i am
i forget how to blink my eyes
at times
live alone,
i say
i will
i seem to have misplaced my memory of
how to do the things that people do
on a regular basis
and all i ever wanted was some sort of affirmation
to know that things arewhattheyare and hereiswhy
and thisiswhatwearegoingtodo about that
and this is where i stand on the issue of you
my attitude
don’t forget why i took a precious breath against your forehead
so that you could feel who i am
your skin cells grazed by a product of me
so that i would leave an infectious mark
it seemed so real and sincere
to me anyway
i’ve lost myself
i don’t know where i went
everyday i continually question this person in my head and
(kindly)
ask them to leave me be
i don’t know who you are
i don’t know what you want from me
i did ask once, but you said nothing
i know what i have to do
and i don’t need anyone
often times
i question who
i am ranting at
and why
only knowing now and then
*****
i have resumed
the perpetuation of pulling out my hair
and strand by strand
delicately selected by fingertips
it all falls to the ground
********** *
oh-
here comes the day.
so we meet again.
where bones should be
i consistently assume so
the delectable melodic euphony of
tendons and moving muscular tissue
florescent pulsing white lights
and she is all mine
designed for no one else but me
i consistently assume so
*****
all the things that sound
so much better
in my head (?)
contaminated
by a form of tangibility
the inevitable flaw of text
i’d like to see through equivalent
eyes, if you don’t mind
me
perpetually going in and out
the revolving doors
of your brain
*****
we are so frail
so fragile
i am self-sufficient
i am self-reliable
-indulgent
and i don’t need anyone
why are you knocking
why aren’t you knocking harder
for every breath i take
i should hear some sort of sound
the pounding of a heart
the grinding and gnashing of teeth
we are strange carnivorous creatures
licking our chops
with such a taste for red meat
soak up the blood with my bones
and devour them too why don’t you
take as much as you like
i don’t need it or anyone
everything bleeds itself dry eventually anyway
teeth aren’t for smiling
they shouldn’t sparkle
they shouldn’t be so white
only assisting in the fallacies
i forget to breathe
i forget where i am
i forget how to blink my eyes
at times
live alone,
i say
i will
i seem to have misplaced my memory of
how to do the things that people do
on a regular basis
and all i ever wanted was some sort of affirmation
to know that things arewhattheyare and hereiswhy
and thisiswhatwearegoingtodo about that
and this is where i stand on the issue of you
my attitude
don’t forget why i took a precious breath against your forehead
so that you could feel who i am
your skin cells grazed by a product of me
so that i would leave an infectious mark
it seemed so real and sincere
to me anyway
i’ve lost myself
i don’t know where i went
everyday i continually question this person in my head and
(kindly)
ask them to leave me be
i don’t know who you are
i don’t know what you want from me
i did ask once, but you said nothing
i know what i have to do
and i don’t need anyone
often times
i question who
i am ranting at
and why
only knowing now and then
*****
i have resumed
the perpetuation of pulling out my hair
and strand by strand
delicately selected by fingertips
it all falls to the ground
********** *
oh-
here comes the day.
so we meet again.
12.15.2004
i just watched this delightful documentary about martin scorsese. it was really interesting. i have a lot more of an appreciation from him now. him and robert denero, is that spelled right? because i watched "raging bull" tonight. wow. i knew they were marvelous, but that just gave them a bit more. if i have a kid someday, i want to name it lazlow. girl or boy. i think that'd be great. today has been absolutely terrible, but really inspirational. it seems that there shouldn't be anymore toying around with individuality. if that makes sense. there's so much to do. there's so much to get done in life. we need to make sure these things happen. you know. it's so easy to forget or neglect. sometimes i don't know where i am, or what's going on. i feel like i don't know how to live sometimes. and i question the "okayness" of that. but quite honestly, i don't know what it takes. uuuhgh. i'm so caught up right now. it's great. i'm so caught up. i don't even know what i'm talking about. get me out of here. i need to get out of here. that's all.
12.12.2004
smoke creates suspended ghosts
it forms the destructive paisley
casting spirits out of lungs
i watch manifestations
as they take shape
sliding down the roof
spiraling, springing upwards
lifting off
hovering and staring me through
with sincerely evil eyes
like demons and deadly omens
or a heavenly host
watching over every sinful act
i perform late at night
reminding me of all things
that are so tenderly horrible
as momentary as an exhale
these visions fester like the liquid in my lungs
it forms the destructive paisley
casting spirits out of lungs
i watch manifestations
as they take shape
sliding down the roof
spiraling, springing upwards
lifting off
hovering and staring me through
with sincerely evil eyes
like demons and deadly omens
or a heavenly host
watching over every sinful act
i perform late at night
reminding me of all things
that are so tenderly horrible
as momentary as an exhale
these visions fester like the liquid in my lungs
12.11.2004
12.06.2004
DREAM THE HOPES OF AWKWARD OVERLAPSES OF TIME SEPARATING NIGHT FROM DAY
old men sleep in their cars
waiting for wives
in the far corners of parking lots
and the most insecure of us
run at night
in XL sweatsuits
in order to hide our clumsy shame
from the rest of the
beautiful world
how many of you use hairgel.
you know,
your hair is never clean.
with the exception of
that instant you exit
the shower.
button-up shirts
all the way to the top. please.
and suit pants.
shine your shoes-
you sons of bitches.
you've gotta look sharp
to stay
all the way to the top.
please.
i've forgotten
where i was going
with this.
oh ya.
it's a distraction.
For the past few days I've been sustaining my nutritional existence with coffee, diet pop, and peanut butter. At the moment I'm sustaining my emotional existence with The Moon and Antarctica. And it is a great psychological existence. It's great because it is so incredibly sad and happy and everything I ever could have imagined to feel this past summer. It is Delta. It is warmth. It's a flop house. It is the smell of too many cigarettes and the beer I didn't drink. It's a bipolar episode; the pinnacle of joy and the deepest aspects of sadness. When I listen to it I don't exactly know how to feel besides nostalgic. I feel heartbroken and this immense sense of anticipation for something that already happened. I look down from a balcony and then up at a cinema ceiling falling apart next to clouds of smoke. I feel the remnants of an incredibly painful and necessary developmental transition. I see insanity. I see the windows rolled down, and the corn isn't even up to my knees; the yellow lines of the road passing by the wheels of a shitty car. Like every second falling through my fingers that I tried so hard to cherish. Memories aren't good enough. We always forget the moments that so horribly mattered. And I so desperately want to smell particular summer air again.
Yesterday, I read a 'journal entry' from my old computer, circa May 2002. It made me laugh so hard at life's delightful tricks that I started to cry. How marvelous to think of past thoughts. Pull them out of their filling cabinets and cupboards. But in reference to what I read, I realize that my heart was never fickle, which is the most charming part of it all. I always knew what I felt, but multiple personalities, insecurities and plain stupidity seem to consistently get in my way. One of the most interesting aspects of this past writing is it was almost a prophecy. I would say it was. I really would. A marvelously ignorant and insecure prophecy. I love myself. I love that I love. I wish I were better at manifesting it. But my goodness, do I get in my way. I am absolutely the best and worst person I know. I am an enemy. My beautiful body and mind are berated by my repulsive body and mind. I have such a delightful body. I have such a delightful mind. More and more, whenever I am feeling disgusting, I'll just take off my shirt and stare at my bare torso to make myself feel human and lovely. I do love my body. I love touching the hooks of my pelvic bone. I love feeling the groves of my chest cavity and the concave divot underneath my ribs that slowly ascends to a fleshy stomach, then back down to a valley between my hip bones. I love the scent of my shoulders, running my thumb across my jaw line, curling my toes around the folds of sheets, and kissing my knees when I'm in the bathtub. I love my swollen eyes in my morning. They look so unaware and old and sad and worn out. I love my cheekbones. Last night, before I went to bed, I took a bath, and when I took off my shirt and stared at the sides of my stomach, the veins leading upwards (downwards? either/or/both) were extremely pronounced, and it was delightful. My upper body was like this intricate living, breathing map. Aside the arteries were my stretch marks and my ribs, and I inhaled and exhaled, and it was this beautiful, linear living piece of art. It was nice. I was pleased. But if we were to look closely, to x-ray, everyone would see black lungs and angry intestines. So my body is a physical interpretation of my mind. In both cases it's completely my fault, and I could fix it if I really tried hard. I could mend the bad respiratory system and the torn up insides just as I could eradicate the ugly, insecure and pitiful thought pattern. Or maybe this is just how I am. I could do better. I know I can. But. - It turns out that?s all I have to say about that after sitting here for a few minutes contemplating that thought.
In that case:
All of those words seem so simple, but they aren't easily considered or digested. My God, I love this album. It is too good for words. It's almost too good to even listen to, at times. If that makes sense. It does to me.
Yesterday, I read a 'journal entry' from my old computer, circa May 2002. It made me laugh so hard at life's delightful tricks that I started to cry. How marvelous to think of past thoughts. Pull them out of their filling cabinets and cupboards. But in reference to what I read, I realize that my heart was never fickle, which is the most charming part of it all. I always knew what I felt, but multiple personalities, insecurities and plain stupidity seem to consistently get in my way. One of the most interesting aspects of this past writing is it was almost a prophecy. I would say it was. I really would. A marvelously ignorant and insecure prophecy. I love myself. I love that I love. I wish I were better at manifesting it. But my goodness, do I get in my way. I am absolutely the best and worst person I know. I am an enemy. My beautiful body and mind are berated by my repulsive body and mind. I have such a delightful body. I have such a delightful mind. More and more, whenever I am feeling disgusting, I'll just take off my shirt and stare at my bare torso to make myself feel human and lovely. I do love my body. I love touching the hooks of my pelvic bone. I love feeling the groves of my chest cavity and the concave divot underneath my ribs that slowly ascends to a fleshy stomach, then back down to a valley between my hip bones. I love the scent of my shoulders, running my thumb across my jaw line, curling my toes around the folds of sheets, and kissing my knees when I'm in the bathtub. I love my swollen eyes in my morning. They look so unaware and old and sad and worn out. I love my cheekbones. Last night, before I went to bed, I took a bath, and when I took off my shirt and stared at the sides of my stomach, the veins leading upwards (downwards? either/or/both) were extremely pronounced, and it was delightful. My upper body was like this intricate living, breathing map. Aside the arteries were my stretch marks and my ribs, and I inhaled and exhaled, and it was this beautiful, linear living piece of art. It was nice. I was pleased. But if we were to look closely, to x-ray, everyone would see black lungs and angry intestines. So my body is a physical interpretation of my mind. In both cases it's completely my fault, and I could fix it if I really tried hard. I could mend the bad respiratory system and the torn up insides just as I could eradicate the ugly, insecure and pitiful thought pattern. Or maybe this is just how I am. I could do better. I know I can. But. - It turns out that?s all I have to say about that after sitting here for a few minutes contemplating that thought.
In that case:
it's hard to remember we're alive for the first time
it's hard to remember we're alive for the last time
it's hard to remember to live before you die
it's hard to remember to that our lives are such a short time
it's hard to remember when it takes such a long time
it's hard to remember
...
my hell comes from inside
comes from inside myself
why
fight
this
everyone's afraid of their own lives
if you could be anything you want
I bet you'd be disappointed
am I right?
All of those words seem so simple, but they aren't easily considered or digested. My God, I love this album. It is too good for words. It's almost too good to even listen to, at times. If that makes sense. It does to me.
12.01.2004
i've thought about this a thousand times. i don't think there is or will ever be anything like it. i think that a lot of what i'm emotionally going through right now has to do with hormones, however, tonight, while in the midst of these tears that came from nowhere, i decided to listen to lucky, and sometimes life is so pure, i don't know how to deal with it. i cry so many different tears, these were the combination of everything. mostly the manifestation a deep sense of affection. but they were nice, and relieving. just too pure and honest. i don't know if the rest of the world can make this connection. i don't know if i'm the only one who has to handle this complexity. i know i'm not. but why don't we sit and talk about these strange and bewildering emotions that pour out from time to time? why don't we secretly tell eachother about these instances? because they are indescribable. because we can't. never ever. not because they're are secrets, but because there aren't words to place upon such emotion. i really wonder. i really really wonder who feels this. and i don't think i'd ever want to attempt to verbally express it. it would cheapen anything i was feeling at the moment. it would just cheapen it. the other night i watched myself break down. and i don't know who that person behind that mirror, staring at me was. but whoever it was that i saw expressed such pure and utter beautiful brokenness. and i don't know if i will ever witness such sincerity ever again in my life. but either way, the images that i saw made it so much easier to accept the way i feel about life, and continue to live it, understanding so much more. realizing so much more about who i am, and creating a sense memory of appreciation, and the location where i do not want to be.
sunday afternoon dumpster drivers
tissues on the dashboard
dried out sinew at the wheel
there are skeletal frames hiding
beneath layers
of cellulite and fat
there’s the calloused viscera
the absence of a glandular problem
and wire frames are bent or broken
prescription’s still the same
too old to change anyway
carpeltunnle and spiderveins
guardian angel on your visor
you know who you are
bible in the glovebox
getting fast food
for an after-church lunch
11.30.2004
Jump out of bed as soon as you hear the alarm clock!! You may also find it useful spending five minutes each morning saying to yourself: "Every day in every way I am getting better and better" Perhaps it is a good idea to start a new day with the right frame of mind.
i7yci7cyi**let down.
transport. motorways & tramlines. starting and then stopping.
taking off & landing. the emptiest of feelings. disappointed people.
clinging on to bottles. when it comes it's so so. disappointing let down and hanging
around. crushed like a bug in the ground.
let down and haNGiNG arouNd.
shell smashed. juices flowing. wings twitch. legs are going. donT geT senTimental.
it always ends up dRRiveLLLL. one day. i am goiingtogrow wings. a
chemical reaCtion. hysterical & useless. hysterical &let down and hanging around.
crushed like a bug in the ground. let down and haNGiNG arouNd. you know where
are with. you know where you are with. floor collapses floating bouncing back annd one
day youlLL know where you are .
i don't know why i never think to instantly reach for ok computer on my psychologically irregular days. plah_plah-plah_plah-plah. i've listened to let down numerous times already, and intend to listen to it at least two dozen more times. what a fabulous song that is. i neglected it for a long while for whatever reason. that was dumb. i often times forget how good it is. but then i remember. and it's great. well. here are lots of poems:
(=)
i tried to fight any urges
or just go numb
during the songs ive refused to listen to
i drink wine so well
and cough so wholeheartedly
sometimes it seems so poor
to think
that most would criticize the life ive chosen
a supposed snob
im so particular about pictures
and my only sources of comfort are cats
with red hair
they leave dead halfeatenmice
and piles of organs by the back door
(+)
"attempting to be ok"
was discovered lying in an empty
bathtub
faceup, following the fabric lines
of the shower curtain
to the ceiling covered in black mold,
the kind that kills you
wondering why everything outside was so disgusting
but enjoying the natural growth
of fungus above
and the trails of smoke
leading upwards from a fresh
cigarette
(-)
after the things you say
stick in my head for days on end
(we could wallpaper the world with the things we write)
and i'd love to believe that
every
word passing through my brain,
every second of every day,
constructs beautiful architecture
throughout my brain’s interior
i'm building my house out of
phrases and the strange life
encounters
there are so many walls to fill
with pictures and flashbulb memories
every chapter seems so short
especially
ours which is why i say yes
consistently to any inquiry
because there are countless walls
and i so desperately want to hang
your face and words
the sense memory of your hands and breath
on as much space as i possibly can.
do the same for me.
(?)
11.29.2004
m.e.h.
E.e. cummings i love you
because of your misuse of the English language
the idea that you have the ability to overtake
punctuation because of some form of poetic
license and i often wonder
if you thought that you
were so much more creative than the rest of humanity
so superior and better educated because
of your old harvard alma mater
E.e. cummings i love you
sitting there with your head at a tilt
in your fine linen shirt untucked
the first three buttons undone (revealing
a grizzly bear chest)
you leaned on the table and smoked a
filterless cigarette sporting your trilby hat
looking particular and exaggerated
E.e. cummings i love you because
youre consistently showing and standing
me up everyday of the week
as I sit by the telephone
waiting
for the calls that never
come because you don’t give two
shits about me E.e. cummings
i hate you
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)