Lost Words

In Hawai’i

[written on my vacation]

I am in Hawaii
On vacation
With family
Spending their money
And it’s one thirty in the morning
Thats four thirty back home
I am in Hawaii
Beautiful women are everywhere
And the men surf
And they drink beers
They walk streets
And inside they laugh at tourists like me
I am in Hawaii
Laying in bed at night
Unable to sleep
Reading Bukowski
The only book I brought
I have been in Hawaii
Less than too days
Six days until I return home
That is if I can bear to leave
I am in Hawaii
And all I can think about
When I am alone
Is this girl I used to see
You see
A couple of months ago
She awoke
Renewed
A passion in me
One day she just stopped answering
I am in Hawaii
And I wonder why
She gave up on me

Coasting/Costs (Part 1)

[written last night]

Love is the coast
Life is the sea
You are the ship
Docking from port to port
Staying long enough to leave
Death is the land
You can’t have it all
Like a cold child
Lonely
Wrapped in blankets
Tired eyes blinking
Dreaming of spaceships
Even though they weren’t part of the equation

New Year ’08

It’s another new years eve
Tonight I won’t be sittin’ around smokin weed
Tomorrow I will think I may leave
So sit around and drink to my health
Wrap me up and put me on the shelf
Forget I’m there until I steal your wealth
Then come for me with witch hunt
Fire up your torches and burn down my hut
While you’re at it why not punch me in the gut
So I stand outside in the snow
Two feet high yet I’m so low
Maybe I should get in a boat and row
But the river is frozen just like your heart
Should have known it was a bad idea from the start
The wild adventures ripped the seams tearing us apart

Wax Dream God Melting O’er Te Universe

When I was asleep I was a god
Rolling around on my cosmic couch
I created my own language
You could only write it in fire
My disciples holding candles to the sky
They forget they are made of wax
As they melt they become sacrifices
Ashes and smoke, hot wax to burn at vices
Well I wake up and my candles burned all the way down
And the sun is shining cause I have no curtain now
Crawl across the star spattered universe
Fall into blankets black swallowing me whole
Into nothingness broken in a black hole
When I wake up will I be someone again?
Or will I forget I am nothing
Swing in the breeze black and white lobotomy
No numbers rattle my mind
Stuck in a film nostalgic and rare
Dream when I am awake and die in my sleep

Not that any of you care, but I finally am ready  to call myself an atheist.

If your interested in why, go here and read the essay on the origins of the bible and christianity.

That old familiar smell
I hope you are doing fine
I am doing well
Or so I would say
If you’d give me the time of day
Because I want to smite you
I want you to think I am happy
Though the ice has yet to melt from my heart
Since the day we broke apart
And oh sister of mine
You were dead all that time
And I see your reflection on the TV screen
In a girl from in my dreams
She doesn’t call me
She’s got somebody
Twenty degrees and going down
The morning is ripening
And my head won’t lie down
So I stare out at the town
Glowing lights on the clouds
Whose reflection turned around
And I am going down, down, down
The fun has just begun
Passing over the lines
Holding my head together
With cigarette smoke and pine
Wobble up the stairs and pass out in my bed
And I had a dream of my friends
We were drinking ourselves lethargic
We are nothing, nothing
We are anomic
In my dream I saw an idol
Say hi, hello, I am a fan
Drink, ourselves drowning and dying
And I saw a girl I knew
But she wasn’t really there
I chased her scent
I chased her hair
Hoping from bar to bar
Because this is what we came to do
And then I wake up
The dog is barking
And no one is home downstairs
Smoke a cigarette, recover
Stare out the window
Lost another dream lover
Stare at the floor
Another day and year older
Five hundred miles in reverse
I’ve lost the map
I’ve lost my way
Same shit another day

If you do not know the events of the last week, oct 16-18, your explanations will have to wait. Sorry.

All artmachine projects, all personal writing projects, including but not limited to the book I was in the process of writing, are all coming to a halt with no plans to resume until ’08.

I am moving back to Moscompton, I-Duh-no next week-end-ish. I guess. If you have any paying freelance writing and/or art jobs let me know. I have a beautiful Nikon if you need photography done. Um… sorry if this is confusing and sounds like some sort of cry for help. I guess it is just a little bit.

Right now I am working on a new book idea based on the events of the aforementioned time period, to be called Acid Nightmare. As well I am working on a new musical project, a concept album of the same vein tentatively titled “Acid Nightmare / Seasick Catalyst“.

So. Does anybody want to move to Costa Rica? Let’s doooooo it.

Otherwise… um, “It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia” is the funniest fucking show ever/ Ever. It wins. Nuff said.

Wish me luck (especially with the packing part thats the part I suck most at).

whoa, the sun is shining
is this a sign or
should we just hide inside
oh, run for the hills
pack your suitcase now
soon this will b e hell
whoa, the sun doesn’t shine anymore
only when bombs blast out
perpetual twilight city of night
run for the hills
we’ll be safe here
not killed like our families
not lost like our sanity
we’ll start a brand new colony
and hope they don’t wipe us out
hope we don’t get wiped out someday

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From a block away I saw a girl I knew from my dream school (or is it a school from my dreams…) and as I approached I remembered that earlier that day I had thought of her (and others from the school) and wondered whether or not I would ever see any of them again. And there she was… kind of funny how those things happen (and with my growing belief in collective conscious, I went as far as to wonder if she had the same thought today as well… or at least if I unconsciously chose to walk this way at this time because I knew I would come upon her path…). We bother presented eachother with smiles and asked how eachother where doing… she asked if I was on my way to class, and thus I had to fess up to the fact that I had dropped from school, to which she frowned slightly. I mumbled about many reasons and personal things and moved the subject to the fact that I was “job hunting” and the conversation dissipated from there and we said our goodbyes. As I walked away I wondered if I would see her again, and if I did if I would have anything to say, for she is like many of the people I meet; a world apart. Later as I was leaving Powell’s, I noticed in the corner of my eye that she was sipping coffee at a table facing the window I was passing, in the Green Room. I pretended not to notice. I don’t know why.

Men are digging up the flowers outside the lower terrace entrance to my building, leaving 2 feet of ugly turned up dirt between the walk and the grass. I am pretty sure my neighbors son is always trying to spy into my room, but I rarely catch him (though I have before, but I made it seem as though I didn’t see him, because I want to catch him again… I guess.)  I’ve smoked 15 Cigarettes in the last 12 hours (Yes I bought a pack at 2 in the morning), my eyes are slightly weary, I yawn occasionally, and by 5 o’clock I will have been awake for 24 hours (don’t ask). My nose is drippy and droopy, maybe a side affect of the  anti-drip nose spray (that says not to use after 3 days, and I have been using for…. oh… I’d say about a week, and thats gracious). The girls at Subway had accents and one even seemed to have a mustache, but I really tried not to stare. Though I do feel as though they robbed me of meat, my sandwhich was not meaty enough. But the ice tea was good. Goddammit, I am gonna catch that little brat starin’ over here sometime!

At two am on Saturday, Sept 15th, I got in my car with a meager duffel bag of items and headed on “home” to Idaho. When I got there I told everyone I was leaving on the following Friday. Well, a lot can happen in a week, and I changed my mind several times and ended up coming home only yesterday evening. 12 days in Idaho, and I almost stayed longer. But, you know, I had that “over-staying your welcome” feeling so here I am back in Oregon.

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When I was a wee little kid and snot was drippin’ out my nose, my mother would hand me a kleenex or whatever was near that anyway, and say, “Blow your nose!” And I could never, ever blow hard enough.
Now that I am a “grown man”, I can blow my nose like there is no tomorrow and empty that sucker out. I have absolutely no idea why I decided to “blog” about something like this but I did. So there. Thats your true story of the day.

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Wow, there were 21 visits today, way more than I’m used to. Only one comment… I just wish I knew who reads this? Sometimes I can’t even read my blog, why would you want to? Just kidding, keep enjoying it. Or hating it. Whatever it is you do.

Today my mind was somewhere else.

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There are bloodstains on my shorts. I cut myself with an exacto knife, and I bled longer than the project I was working on took. It’s not that bad though, and now it’s fine. But, what a wierd day. I had the most terrible time getting to sleep that I have had in a long time, and the last two weeks have been very very insomniatic. If thaat ain’t a word, it is now bitches. Overall I feel a lot better today than last night, and especially this morning. Actually, when I did fall asleep I was listening to Sigur Ros’ CD Takk and I believe it caused some odd dreams that are fleeting at this point, but I remember dreaming and thats the first time in weeks. Read the rest of this entry »

I am tired of life, but I say that every day… I think. It’s hard to admit, but all the major events of my life are failures, faults, and problems I’ve caused. And it’s all spun into a web of depression after depression and right now I’m at one of those points where I don’t know what the point in anything is. I seriously don’t want to do anything right now… and rightfully so, seeing as it is three in the morning. But really, back to the point, I am now twice a college drop-out. I don’t know what I want from life, let alone what I want to do for the rest of my life. I need financial stability, but it seems my soul is at war with stability, it don’t like it. I do though, don’t get me wrong. I hate working, and I hate waking up all alone. I feel at home here, but I miss the home where my friends live and it’s tearing at me and it sucks. If I went back to Idaho right now, I would feel the same dispare I feel here, only my mom would be there trying to hug me and talk about it, which is alot more avoidable over the phone. I feel like recoiling when my mom hugs me, it makes me feel weak, it makes me feel like… a bad son, I guess. Depreession is a real battle though, and it’s been a long tough ride, but am at the point where I see that there is no universal point to life, except to do whatever makes you happy or some shit like that, which wouldn’t make a lot of sense really, cause no one is happy all the time and everyone has to deal with a lot of shit so how can you constantly be doing what makes you happy? You can’t, but it seems like it would be the best way to live… happy all the time. Maybe not. If there was no such thing as being sad, then happy would be normal… and if happy was normal, then it wouldn’t be an above average feeling. Maybe I haven’t felt it for so long that it seems like an above average anomolie anyway. I don’t know really, I am only rambling. It’s wierd living so far from all the people who care. I would love it if they lived here, that would make me happy. But they do not and I do and I have to keep going so someday I can meet someone who makes me even happier (I say happier cause I have to be happy before I can go on with life I do believe). God, I hate being lonely. It eats at your soul and destroys your dreams and cripples your mind and leads to insanity. At least that feels like whats down the road. I’m done for now, I am going to bed, please don’t wake me.

I just got off the phone with my mother.

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Labor Day, ay, finally an excuse to sleep in for the ____ day in a row, and it’s legit.  Pressure and stress and everything in between can be put off one more day, for on Sunday morning (or your afternoon I guess) I did not realize that today would in fact be Labor Day. So here I am doing… what? Well, to my own pride I’ve crafted 8 poems (so far) today, but alas, all else I’ve done is listen to music, eat and play on my computer occasionally.

The two main elevators in my building are both out of service today, so only the freight elevator is working right now. I actually walked up the 8 floors to the roof in the stairway across from my room. No, I am not doing that again, and I sure hope they keep the freight elevator running tonight, (which they usually do not).

Yesterday Greg, Josh, and I, amongst a few others in the elevator, (which there was one of the two main working yesterday) we all saw an old lady trip and fall walking out of the elevator, and two of the elevators occupants helped her up and we all showed our concern, but the three of us agreed later that lady should be in an old folks home. Maybe Josh disagreed, I don’t really remember anyway.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I have a feeling the coming week will bring me to another turning point in my life. Hopefully for the good.

I am currently planning to try to get to the roof with my cigarettes and maybe my Camera (it looks like it could possibly rain tonight and I would love love love that…. but then again I do see a lot of sun too… so maybe not).

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What is a dream? Can a career be a dream? Can there be a dream career? Am I just intimidated, paranoid, or afraid of failure? I don’t know if I could be a famous artist. I’ve lost a lifetimes worth of inspiration and I haven’t lived a lifetime yet. Can you have your life sucked away at the age of 20 and still follow dreams? I don’t know what I want anymore out of life. I want to live every day happy, but I am not there yet. No, not without medication. I need to look for a job, I need to figure out school… but all I’ve figured out is that I don’t think I can do it. fuck. Life shouldn’t be this much of a struggle. Getting out of bed shouldn’t be the hardest part of the day. Following a lifelong dream should be easy. Reaching a goal you’ve promised to reach should be gratifing enough to at least reach as far as possible towards the goal. But now I’m finding it’s just life I want to be good at. Maybe thats all there is to it?

…a need for change.

I looked into the mirror and noticed my growing hair, and for a moment my face, my sunken, tired eyes, I was reminded of Zach Braffs gravedigger friend in Garden State. That was a wierd thought.

I watched half of That Seventy’s Show Season 1 on DVD last night instead of sleeping, and I’m sure the insomnia will drive me to finish the other two discs (for the millionth time I might add). But after my mirror experience a moment or two ago I think I may watch Garden State. Haven’t seen it in a while.

I updated the blog’s look, name and some things and stuff… um… oh yeah, I’m working on a story… still. Look for new stuff soon.

I went away to Idaho to visit my family and friends, and my friends who are like family, and what not and such and such. Anyway, it’s inspired the start of a project I have been wanting to work on for ever and ever now, the commencement of the writing of a novel. Well, at least I have enough now for a chapter… or at least the first story I’ve written since High School ( I believe ). There will be heavy editing afoot, but if you would like to read and give feedback that would be amazingly awesomely good  and I’d be delighted to send it along your way.

In irrelevantly unrelated news I heard theres a solar eclipse tonight at 2:52 am, so if your up for it, or an insomniac like me, we may be staring at the same phenominal event in the sky at the same time.

They must find it difficult…
Those who have taken authority as the truth,
rather than truth as the authority.”

– Gerald Massey

-please read the following (especially if you were interested in the previous post)

Warning

Of Political Importance

The doctor says in one month my bone will be strong again
And in two months my arm will be back to normal
Can’t push, can’t pull,  no pressure
Frustration overwhelms and I want to yell and yell
So I leave the building
Did not schedule another follow up appointment
It’s a waste of money! I furiously told my mother
He just keeps telling me it’s getting better
And that it’s going to take more time than I can stand
This leads to conversation
It’s not my money
But it’s still a waste!
As I walk down the sidewalk
The rain continues to fall
And as I soak it in
As my glasses become bespeckled with rain drops
I am reminded of how much I love the smell of rain
And even if I didn’t sleep much last night
Or the night before, or before that too
The rain will calm me like a newborn
Calm, but that don’t mean happy
I am far from being renewed
I love the Oregon scene
Even when the rain comes in amounts obscene
This is why I own sweaters and hoodies
Soak it all in and maybe it will take me down
Drown me in the street
Wash away and down through the grates
Hopefully I’ll be home or to the coast by the time I wake
But I know this is all just a hodge podge of fact and fiction
A needy kid sitting alone in his lonely home
The lies are quiet and the truth is deafening
Maybe I’ve been bad
And I’ve wanted to come home
But mom I love this place
And I don’t want to cause more harm

I don’t want to be your target, but I’m half drunk, lathargic, sky high, red eyed and mind blown. Well, maybe I need a cup of coffee. So just do what you want, we all will, we just got to live. It’s all we know. Now passing one a.m. and you’re all sorrows, step out and breathe. Where are we, they ask, look for where the poisen is, we live the best we know how, so go home,get into the clouds and tuck yourself in, it’s time to live life in dream land again, the weekend is heaven in the city of roses, swallow yourself in a haze, you won’t be noticed anyway. Maybe you should try to get yourself clean, but all we’ll want to do is just scream. Well, hey I just want to say, I like it when you wear your hair that way, and it’s always hard for me to get to the point so I’ll spare us all the shame, keep my eyes closed and say nothing, cause I never know what I’m really feeling, in case you were wondering, I don’t know who I am, and I’m not sure what love is, if it’s really anything at all, so I’m sorry, we’ll see what happens after the fall. My stomache drops, twists and turns, I want to curl up, I want to breath smoke, exhale and expire, if only for a while. Somedays you don’t want to take the long way home, it’s cold and bitter on the sidewalk, the wind was cold that night, and I sat by my window, killing my sight, waiting for sound, waiting for something, coughing, doing nothing. Maybe that where it became the end of a night, the last hoorah, oh well, farewell.

Steve is writing a book. ——- is making a noise album. Steve has no prodigy. ——- is an only child. Steve is full of life. ——- is a meloncholy man, creating his own misery.

Well, Steve says to roll a fattie and watch that movie, I’d rather read a book but I find myself staring at the screen. Who is who and whoa is me. And, oh, why the whoa? Well, I’ve just been told I am the biggest insomniac in the building, staying up later and later into the morning, but the whoa is in this, I think I finally know what my problem is, I just want to live. I don’t like work, I don’t like being held up, I like freedom, and I just want to be free, and to be free to live. Aw, fuck.

“Every day is sad and lonely and every night is sad and blue…” – Billy Bragg

…and as the muscle got tight, and the tendons stretched and the swelling persisted, I stared out the window, with a cold breeze coming through, sad, lonely ad confused, wondering what happened to you, and you, and you…

Maybe I will lay face down into my pillow and melt, maybe I will stay there all day, let it waste away like me, and maybe if I am lucky time will forget me and you would to, but that’s not going to happen, so I’m not sure what else to do…

There was a moment, maybe something like desperation, where I just wanted to get in on the action. Well, here I am, still on the bench, but when you call, it’s closer than a kiss. But Thursday I will drift away, because I have finally lost my mind, it woke with the dawn and left me sleeping, oh, you’re gone.

Maybe I want to be noticed, but mostly I just want not to be missed.

Pressure…

I’ve been tired, stopped listening long ago, my minds so far gone, and I’m ready to go there to… somewhere between hyperventilating and crying, breaking down the breakdown, lost all the time, singing sad songns, I can’t hide away…. sleeping alone, no home that I own, I don’t even pay rent, where am I going? Alone again, and I want to come home,e but this is as close as it gets, I’ve no desire for wheatfields, this is where I wan’t to live, but I’ve been so bad, from the moment I was born, I’ve been hiding lies, but I’m breaking apart at the seam and I wan’t to come home.

Sleep is my masturbation
A guilty plessure
Please don’t wake me
Tugging thoughts
Pain from broken arm
There is laundry to be done
Bukowski to be read
A bit of tea
And a newspaper by my bed
And It’s about time again
When I start wondering
About wether or not
I need medication
And wether or not
The great facade is over
Like torn lovers
My mind and my heart
Fighting through turmoil
I want to do it all
But I can’t manage to get anything done
I am the bad, the only son
Flying off to a new world
Where I get brought back to reality
With a crack and a scrape
My dreams are erased

I broke my arm…
fell off my skateboard
i got up and walked  back to my building  and cleaned my scrapes ad then realized i broke something (if you ever have broken a bone its an undeiable feeling ) so i called my mom and was like yeah im pretty sure i broke something
but yeah its my drawing hand
not a fun day
ad im not even i a cast yet just a splint and hydros and it may be 3 months before my arm is back to normal
the pains been pretty much the same the whole way through except now in a splint i cant move it in more painfull directions
how many people do youkow who just jump up after breaking a bone and chill around thier apartment building for over an hour before seeking professional help? im a tough mother fucker   and that makes me feel better a bit
the guard here at the building decided that “chip” shoould be my nicknamr, which reminds me i dont thik i mentioed what exactly i did…
i fractured the Radial bone, it goes from your wrist to your elbow and kinda wraps around, and i chipped some bone near the elbow
they gave me a sling but it seems like more of a hastle thaan anything

Getting higher annd higher all the time, everyone’s got thier herion, everybody’s found thier way to fly, stay cool, calm and high, generation: soma. Live fast, live long, stay high. Everyone’s got thier story, and ain’t nobdy listening. Death from above the west hills, poppin’ pills, package at your front door, under the table, over the table, and a little bit more, oh, well, let’s just fly to the desert so we can get warm, and then hide in apartments, until this suits been worn. You gotta walk, don’t forget your headpphones, see the skies, clouds spread out and the thin air is getting closer, the smoking is getting to you, your lungs, have found some kind of boundries, you’ve passed, and you never thought, well, just tie your shoes, grab a max, and sneeze to the side, walk away from this trainwreck, a living, walking dream, and nobody sees. Concentrate, concentrate, night school, knight school, night at knight school… ghosts walk the halls, how do you, how do you do… I can’t feel anything, walk right through me, did you hear her scream, I don’t feel anything, anything. Well, now, who is going to take you home, parties over, gotta start over, a new week, four leaf clover, but I lost the number, oh, how the hell will I ever make it home, where is home anyway? Hear the waves, mass appeal, lgith fades away, another day saved, another life gone, ghost in the wind, salt water in your mouth, can you feel again?

XXII

Life won’t always be what you expect it too, a nd if you expect it, fools on you. Your head hurts, like a trigger pulled, you wish I’d went away. Eveyone congregate, we’ll have make-shift families, hey I know you and you know me, might as well be.

whatiwantwhathewantswhatshewantswhatiwantwhatyouwantwhat

XXIII

Living alone in the big city, a new experience, allows you to experience the highest highs and the lowest lows, all alone. It’s like emotions in stereo. Intangible thoughts on a big screen. Free bottomless buckets of guilt. In a dream a girl hit on me, cheated on her boyfriend, she didn’t know why they were together more and I was there and easy to, ahem… grab. It was only a dream, but what if she was having the same dream… or maybe he was? Paranoia xan be a harsh misstress, but we ignore her often. Just living here is one of the hardest tasks life throws anyone. Living life. Everybody wants to run away some time, but you can’t run away from life, an dyour life is controlled be the things you must do to stay alive. It’s time for another cigarette…. (don’t sweep it all under the rug).
Four kids I’ve never seen before on the roof. I say kids because none of them looked old enough to rent an apartment, not because they were punky kids who looked young, which they were I guess. Anyway, I sat and puffed away at my cigarette and I hopped in the elevator feeling good, feeling far from low. And the elevtor stops on floor 8. A longer ride down. Time seems slowed down. I don’t know what to do next. And what am I supposed to feel when the newsman tells me the dollar is worth less than it’s been in decades, what should I do about inflation? And Government debt? Well, why the hell are we here…

Simple is as simpple does, what I was and who I am, a wasted fuck, tell me what you want. Hey, maybe I’m not lost, I’m not lost…. I”ve been named, The King of Strange, it’s not my friends, but it may be what they want, whatever makes me try, make me try. Hey, baby what you want? Vampires in the light, in the ligt? Well I been crowned the King of Lame, not really, but I feel strange when they look at me, baby what they see? Vampires walk in the day, someday I knew it’d change. So lets hit the sky, we can fly, we’ll sure try, now not so scared of the night; bats take flight, say good night, goodnight, fly away.
My eyes are lead balls, ready to fall out of my head; eye lids like iron curtains. Wish I was sleeping, my mind is slipping, I am leaking, oh, tired eyes. Hungry like your mother, mother eartch, and she’s a whore, but did we rape her first?Wait for the worse, got a heavy, heavy thirst. Can you please increase the lead, I’m not heavy enough to take your shame, wrap it on the wall, waitn’ to wake up; call. It’s what it’s likem yah, thats my life, and she said to me, she asaid hey your shoes stick. Well not to me, so I tie a rope to the floor to see if I can get down from the cieling, how should one? And I in this space, I hope it’s not a waste; hey wait a minute, my minnds a-melting?

My eyes can only see now, and they feel like hiding behind that iron curtain… ’bout half an hour and I’ll be home, with a brand new pack of smokes, write the notes, read the sketches, hook line and sinker, what a stench, and my, my, what a mess… where is your head? My eyes my, my, cemmented in rubber and bleeding nerves, oh fuck.

This was a dream, and not just like day dreaming of everyday, the uncontrollable, deep sleep dreaming. A girl I knew was there, she was handing out waivers to people for a sort of small get together she was having with close friends. I don’t know why I was invited, but she started hitting on me and I decided to go…. and I don’t think I can even say the rest right, but I remember  being in a town and everyonen called it Moscow, but it wasn’t the Moscow I knew, and there were abandoned buildings that we sat in and watched the sunsets, and we car hopped and rode around town, and when the night was moving on and we were going to the party, well right before I found out why I had to sign a waiver, I woke up. Fuck.

Unplug the Nintendo to turn back on the lamp, to give you light, so you can finish your work tonight, and write. You’ve gotta come back today, you gotta, you gotta… reality is calling you back today. And I lost the letter D, is it on the floor, or is hiding on a magazine or in a newspaper, or in the trash, certainly not in a book… and what will we do with all the black? Paint our windows and our eyelids, our hearts our bed sheets our covers, our mothers and daughters, all in all; ash.

…and I wonder as I step outside for a break, who stops to empty the ashtrays, every day?

Too much caffeine, your stomachs got you on your side, car rolls by pretty slow, thinkin’ about another smoke. Got a job to do, should maybe eat some food, and wake up early on today. Rubber cementin’ my hands, ca you see what I’ve done? Can you see at all? Car drives in circles waiting to park or stall, lights off life ain’t so bad. Markers and razor blades, a cutting table, your cut from the stage, a balloon like an idle deflates, sure some time it’s gonna rain.
My, my what a mess, what a beautiful display of our black hearts, our procession of dark art, a home wrecking, eyes sunk real low, hearts sunk in oil, a horizon, natures tired eyes, well disguised, may we dance? Positive and negative, positive and negative, a harsh mistress, where are your poles? Where do we go?

Oh summer night, stealing me away from my life, night after night, years going on more, and how much caffeine and music screams will it take to break me, bursting like a balloon, out until I need to wake up. Well, I got a solution when the sun rises and I must arise at t he same time. And it involves many cigarettes on my journey to the pearl.

Oh, I’ve got a true story for ya, a short one, but true none the less. I was walking home and I noticed a giant spool sitting perfectly in the westbound lane of Salmon St. Only moments after I noticed, so had a cop. And before ya knew it there were 3 cops standing around the spool, which was ow on the sidewalk (though the patrol cars were now blocking more of the road than the stool was in the first place). So theres three confused cops and one amused bystander who saw the whole thing. Though, you gotta wonder, where did that spool come from?
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1. The taste of clove still in my mouth, reminds me of drunken christmas parties in my first apartment. Friends of friends and friends of old and we all just mingle like it doesn’t matter how close we’ve ever been before. It’s just c ool to know you, you know? Homework is a grey cloud down pouring all over you. Eyes get heavy, love, love, love sleep. What is there to say today? Fun comes at a price? Fuck that.
2. My, my, my… my mind is mush, but you, you’re a lush, and this is a dream, or so it would seem as I don’t see you anymore. Hold on to that hope you had, but there will be no final touch, I will turn my head and my eyes will close,walk away, say the first few words that pop into my head, let me off this ride, I’m tired and sore and should probably just go home. And you whispered to me something about being free, adn I said to myself something about a flame, well, we’re sitting in the dark, maybe somewhere in the back of my mind. Again I say I gotta go, but you’re mind keeps mine in a lock or hold, pushing the snooze on the alarm, for miles of yawns. Anf I say, I gotta go, time to wake up, ’cause I know where you’ve been and where you’ll go, and you said the same in some sort of code and I forgot to listen the more than you spoke, because I am long gone, borders and boundries we’d break, and I pass them alone, to sleep in an apartment I don’t pay for, getting lost all the time, singing sad songs to keep me awake, baby, I’m long gone, sleeping alone, with friends I hardly know, all these things I don’t really own, closing the door, leaving you in the room, I gotta go, you’re long gone, I’ve got to wake up, it won’t be soon before long
3. Hours spent pissing away, I do.. but I don’t wanna come home. It’s been a long few weeks, it gets hard to breathe, but I don’t often wish that I had died… spend all night filling the ashtray, because home is a highway and I don’t drive anymore. Life is a freeway, you get to caught up in your freedom and you’ll miss your exit, get lost, get down, get out. You’ll never be the same, your home will never be again, well, we’ll fill the ashtray, try to build a new life.
4. Your head is swelling, dear, I say. Your mind is float-float-floatin’ away, oh, lordy lordy, as the ugly cassanova would say, stars don’t give a flyin’ fuck. So we stair, and I think you were thinking too much, I think I was breathing too much, oxygen, atmosphere, thin air, and I could see you there, your head a’swellin’ and my mouth shut tight to keep out the oxygen, wel, well, well what would one say? This can’t be a real live scene, but this ain’t no dream, no. You called me a bastard, and you had sayed that I had changed, but talkin’ on the phone you sounded so full, your head still swellin’ to an orbit, who would put one through this over the phone, but I was bumped up, and life was good, because I actually felt better without you for once. Aw, fuck, stare at the stars, aw fuck, stars don’t give a flyin’ fuck. How the hell’d we get here? How… the hell’d we get here?There is this form of ADHD I believe exists, that effects artists; if you’re not passionate enough about what your working on, it may not ever get completely done, and that, that could be the death of me…. and who knows how literally that could be. Fuck.

   You can’t stop harmony, once that it’s started.

5. Here is a place, it’s been said, you can do anything here that will make your parents feel as though they failed miserably in raising you. If you want t o listen up I may just tell you a secret. Heaven’s unreachable when you’re always on foot. You could rot in a room and no one will miss you. Fear and rage make you feel insane and with a puff of smoke they’re gone, like some modern mistake. What is reality, and what is love? What do you live for and what do you lust for, or do you walk with blindfolded eyes, ignoring the world, and who would care, or bother to say a thing, your just another crazy person in a crazy city, sleeping ontop of a grave feeling something below, no screaming, no, goddamn. Well, can you hang on to the empire your fleeting some name you built misleadingly you can’t float through the cieling there is no escape. They’re doing herion and talking smack, chicks snortin’ coke while they’re men get wasted and they’re leavin, yeah, they’re leavin’ with some cheaper girl. Wll that just shows how it goes, prepare for a showdow, show me what now, who knows, what, now who knows? March march march into the ocean the storm is coming, the storm is coming, saet sail for they, we’ve got to fly somehow, we’ve got fly, show up for the showdown. Guilty pleasures are our sins, do you feel the darkness crawl up your skin? The devil walks the city at night, as the darkness crawls up your skin, you’ll know you saw the devil that time. Ho, ho, ho, a  pirates life for me, we give give give, take take take what we need, I don’t care who you are or we’re you been, we’re on a mission, we’re heaven sent, just a captain and a crew with darkness in thier eyes and not half a soul anyway; can we get back into, our modern lives, well we ain’t goin’ out without a fight, we used to be happy, until our eyes they did see, just how much we’ve lost, goodbye humanity. Siezure, lights, shake, body, sake, turn off the- shake, some, one, before i start to… It’s two o’clock, yeah, and my mind melts, scooby snacks, and I gag, and I, what did you say? what did you say? Well, I lost my mind today, it’s not the first time, but it’s never been this easy, I’m standing around wondering where my life went, maybe I could be happier, my mind, under pressure all the time, but my mind tell people that I’m fine, well I say, I’m fine, well I say, maybe not this time. You could spin around the sun for centuries all alone; it’d all be the same to me, I’m tired of, I don’t want to go back to how it was before, but I will come back again, and I swear (when my words are thin) it’ll be much better, well I don’t want to go back to the way I was before, something can warm and save these pirate hearts, in search of some intangible treasure, this time it will really be much better. Tonight we storm the castle, can you hear the voices (can you hear the voices) and it occures to me maybe there ain’t no crew at all, maybe I’m just hearing voice, maybe it’s all just voices. So I relieved, set back into a slow release, they said, “I can see it in your eyes”, and all I heard where noises, sadness seems so normal when you’re the only one in the room who feels it, follow me, into a place of reaxe, you don’t have to leave, anything you need is free, it’s not hard to decide. Madness, so normal, madness, so normal, sadness so normal, sadness, so normal, where exactly do you get back on the train to reality, I’m somewhere I ain’t never been, a mirror of where I live, in the city, but something’s not the same, it’s like today was actually a new day. The devil is standig on the corner tellin’ my mom he’s got a heart of gold, and the preacherman is there arguin’ “I know the truth!” and they all chattin’ Satan bein’ very nice, and I don’t know who this guy is, but I believe him. Puff, smoke, and life changes like that, a haze shows up in your day or one day it claers and thats when you realized it was there. Life, reality, it’s all fake. Or our conception of it is.

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Sort through:

• Beliefs
• Opinions
• Philosophies

It’s about time to re-write your ideas and ideals on/of/about life. At least that’s what I’ve told myself to do today, so here it goes, in some awkward nonesensical fashion of some sort or another.

Beliefs:

Well, what can one believe in if one does not believe in ones self? So I guess number one would be that I must, no matter how hard it can be at times, always believe in myself and my ability to bounce-back, recover, and be on the edge of something great at any and all times.

I believe that life is hard, and if it’s not for you, well, then your doing something wrong or you deserve a “fuck you”.

I believe in depression. Not everyone is affected daily, weekly, or even yearly (though I’d be hard-pressed to trust someone who’s not felt a depressing feeling or moment in at least the last year of their life). I believe that the ways we cope with depression are one of the things that makes everyone different from everyone else. I mean, everyone feels alone, everyone gets sad, and how you fix it says a lot about who you are. Dig?

I believe in a higher power. I’m not saying the Christian God or any other religious being. I am saying that there have been circumstances in my life where I should not have come out the way I have, including being alive. My mother, bless her soul, prays for me more than I even know, and I believe that my ass has been saved due to that more than she or I know. I do not go to church anymore, and I feel “immune” to most sermans I hear anymore; I grew up in the church, I’ve heard it all, I’ve been there with teary eyes, whole-heartedly looking for a sign; and I have seen unneccisary deaths, tragedies, etc and never got that sign, never heard the voice of god, or anything, so I am unsure as to wether the biblical God exists, or heaven or hell for that matter. I am done with this subject now, as eternal nothingness and/or hell are some of the most depressing tangents ones mind could go off on, ever.

I also believe that every human being is born good, and it’s our world, our media, that makes people “bad”. You can’t control how you are raised and sometimes you get sucked into bad shit. I don’t know what else to say about that.

I am 20 years old and I (hopefully) have a lot of life left to live. I wake up feeling homesick, but it’s more of a missing of a feeling of stability. Not neccisarily that my life was stable or that I was going in any particular direction, but it was safe and I was around people who cared and for whom I cared about. Now out here in the city of roses I am truly alone and searching (slowly, unfortunatly) for new friends and loves. Some days it’s hard to get up. There is work to be done, and I can only put it off for so long. There’s also life to be lived, and I can’t keep putting that off either.

That’s all there is for now.

I get lost in Powells City of Books, not that I can’t find my way, I’m just in awe. Look through my pockets, I should not be spending money, so it’s time to leave, walk up Burnside, people asking for change, I want to share, but I really, honestly can’t spare, because I am poor too, I haven’t had a job in so long, I thik I may have forgot how to. Go grocery shopping, and I am confused, I know I am hungry and that I must eat, but all the options and prices make my eyes want to beleed, I’ll just get some of this and that and this, oh shit, I should just leave it. Smoke too many cigarettes, my throat hurts just a little bit. Walk up to 23rd and pass by the slow crowds of lost families looking for something to eat, holding up the sidewalks, get lost again at Music Millinium, leave with new music in hands, more money I shouldn’t spend. Well, I love this city, I love Oregon, but I’m a bit homesick, maybe not for Idaho, well, I don’t know, but I wish my friends were here with me, well, I wish I could get high just so I don’t feel so bad about being lonely. But this is just how it goes, time to get buisness done, you can sleep in tomorrow, you can sleep when you’re dead. Art’s not easy, and the hardest part is a lack of inspiration, thinking of all you’re missing, well, maybe next week I’ll be on the highways, byways, freeways, get away… or maybe I’ll be here, arching my back to hear pops and cracks. My favorite movies and music laying on the floor around me, art supplies are scattered from here to the door, and nothings getting done, just need to get things done.

Lean out the window, smell someones herb, cover my eyes, need a smoke, let my mind go, wonder, maybe I should re-learn how to live life, write me a new philosophy… oh that smells so sweet.

(did I mention that I saw a black Elvis impersonator serenading the public on 23rd and Irving tonight?)

A fan in the window keeps the air circulating and the elevator ride keeps the old man confused, oh, and I want to know how this life looks from over head, far from home, but not so far from where I have grown, the people don’t know that the money I do’t own goes to pay for all the prices we have made for all of our mistakes, oh, no, I want to know how the night’s going over in Moscow, and the mornings come neigh, with a sobering tide, that lasts for days, maybe weeks, how can I contest or please, oh, I’m sorry to have left you hanging on the telephone, I think the ones who have all made this possible, and I can barely contain myself from screaming, for the blood is nearly boiling, and I am hardly feeling the joy that should soon grow, oh, I miss you all back home, i guess that’s all that you need to know, thank my loves, well, you’ll someday see…

Oh, Oregon rains, how could one forget thee? Hot as hell these days, but I’m up on the rooftop, and you remind me why I call you home, rain like the drowning of my youth, Oh, Oregon, I’ve missed you, but I don’t know what to do with you, and home is far away now, called me up everyday now, now I just want to sleep, afraid to remember to forget to dream, but I do, and I do, and I… can’t escape, my new life I have made, well, who wants to, why should you, let the elevator sink my gut, as we fall, fall, and drop, my heart is happy, my heart is sad, my head is muddled, but oh, I love the smell after it rains, and now it’s cool again.

Lou Reed told me to keep my head up high, so I did. Walking several blocks a day (and I do mean several) is getting a lot easier. I have one very big homework assignment I need to do in the next 3 days. Yeah, fuck. Also need to do some sketches, but, you know, sketches are easy, they don’t have to be perfect. I finally decided to pop into Everyday Music on my way home, big mistake, I spent money. Not too much though… the vinyl section makes me nearly drool. Mmm… vinyl. A 70′s, german pressing of the velvet underground and nico…mmmmmmm. Anyways, Sunsets are pretty, the view from the roof, wonderful, cigarettes are costly, and I’m way more bored than need be, too exhausted to get things done. Well, It’ll get done, I always come around right in time. More… later.

{ transmission missing }

    …I actually wouldn’t be surprised if his name was Frank. He seems like a Frank, maybe it’s the mustache. He’s the one of the security gaurds at night here in  my building. He’s pretty nice, he seems like he’s bored most of the time.  I go out there, I smoke a cigarette, we chat a little, I leave. He’s happy to have some conversation, I’m happy to be passably sober (while not being quite so, you see). It’s all about the bullshitting, you know. Lifes full of bullshit. You slide through it easier when you’re a good bullshitter. You know, life.

A few hours earlier… ( a day )

I’m an insomniac. I’m so much of an insomniac in fact that I sometimes get this feeling when I watch Fight Club that I am not too far off from being and believing in my own Tyler Durden… well, like I said, sometimes I get that feeling, and when I do it’s pretty slight. Still, you get the idea.

I’m not used to walking several blocks a day. I’ve walked more in the past three days than I did the week before I moved. Also, it was over a hundred today. I passed out, from exhaustion and dehydration, and, well , I slept with my alarm going of for at least a half hour… and I’m not sure when I crashed either.

The view from the roof is really beautiful, I do believe so. I’ve grown very attached to my visiting frequently. I was there at 8 when the doors unlocked, I was there at 10 right before they locked it; and a few extra times inbetween.

I walked. I wrote a poem in Powels, though I think I’m going to add to it. Did you know I can write a poem in my head and memorize it? I taught myself to remember anything after a nights sleep. It sucks to lose a great idea when you are too tired to get out of bed in the middle of the night. Anyway, I walked to 23rd and checked out some neat shops, and a kick ass record store too.

I’ve learned a lot about my health today.  (Do my ideas~thoughts~etc seem a little more clear today than the last few days?)

Raleigh, go to sleep.  

New aquantences, girl knows a girl whos dating a girl, well, you know, they know, well, met the security guard(s?) of my building, nice (and fitting?). School, school, well, it’s where I wan’t to go, just such a long walk….

Home, this is home now.

Can not, must not, will not, (have not) forget where I come from.

Man on 23rd eats, sits on steps, blasts Dark Side of the Moon, makes me sile.

My bathroom has no fan. Tomorrow it’s supposed tobe 100 degrees. My apartment has no air conditioning. But man, the view is amazing. Chill out on the roof.

Parents gone home, now I am really alone. (But you all still call, conversations good)

Socks that feel like they are barely there, sores that are invisible and pains that persist, walk the streets, chasing smells of cheap perfume, sad, selfish, sucker, hustlers, get hustled… life goes on and scattered words enter my brain, seap out…. what can I say? What is there to say?

A girl sits on the corner of the roof, looking past the 4 foot fence, meant to hold her back, hold us all back. I walk around, look away, talk on the phone, no door clicks. Turn back adn she’s gone. No body in the street, where could she be? Man comes through the door, she reappears. Oh, well… oh well.

I smell marijuana burning, smoke through my windows, who is it? I wish I knew… but all the blinds are closed. It’s undeniable. I heard it would be easy, here. Don’t want to get ripped off, need to meet the buildings occupants. Smell cigarettes next, now I need one too. Well, I’m certainly lower than them, how are you? (and I wonder, if I yell out the window, will they reply, share or sell part of the supply…)

Walk to the elevator at 1 in the morning, smell that familiar smell again, wander the halls, stronger, stronger… I can’t be loitering. Depressing. Smoke a cigarette 6 floors down. Nose knows, who else knows? Maybe I should go to bed.

A candle burns for 3 and a half hours, silently, on a shelf. I decide to make a pop-tart, it burns a little, and the smoke alarm goes off. The next 5 minutes is spent franticly pulling apart said smoke alarm, until finally, it is ripped off the wall and the battery removed, laid to rest on the counter. It seems that every little action’s reaction only serves to drive me more and more insane. I almost don’t want to do anything by this point. Though why should I? It’s two in the morning and I should be sleeping…

Living in a city the never sleeps. A world awaits (9and a boy is afraid). Home is here, now. Money gets lost, and time tells a depressing tale and a long walk home gives time to fume… letting go is easier than expected. Sirens pass by, a hope sparks in my eyes; or at least I imagine it sparks, for I can not see myself. In 505 or maybe 405 a sneeze spills out, loud, through my thin windows. Sometimes life seems so bad. Let the light in. Artificial. Streets that glow, throw yourself in. Most the time it doesn’t seem so bad. Everybody wonders some of the time wether life is really worth all the embarrassment and the pain. Well, remember these last few days… road trip, new home, buy a book, travel through alley ways, eat great meals and get away from the wheel, show them something they’ve never seen before, and may never again. Sober… sober… sober… it really aint that bad… sleep is so much more satisgying when you walk forty blocks or so, blistering your feet, sweating in deminishing heat, sore legs, lukewarm shower, hit the pillow, pass out. But the boxes are unpacked and strewn across my bed, spilling out onto the floor. Theres always work to be done.A changing attitude can be your best friend, change for the best, turn your coal heart into a diamond. It’s all about believing in yourself… or maybe it’s in convincing yourself that you believe in yourself and the possibility of you beign able to do anything you cbelieve you can do. Swallow that, regurgitatite it, put it in a pipe and smoke it; my brand of nonsense will make you high, make you low, and make you crazy in less than thirty minutes… (They’ll be takin’ ya in the paddy-wagon soon, my dear friends… soon.)

So here I am, living the dream.

Like lovers fit together, I fell into this town like a piece of a puzzle. It’s so surreal I am only sure it’s not a dream because I’ve been sober for the last couple of days. Sitting inside the school I’ve wanted to attend, walking the streets of the city I’ve want to live in, it seems like it was all too easy. It feels almost as if I am cheating, like I don’t even deserve to be here. But here I am, nonetheless, living the dream of the starving artist.

And oh, what a dream that is, one I’ve primed myself to live. There will be no money spent on frivilous expenses, no, no more. There will be food and there will be sleep and there will be work, and thats how I will live. Homework will envelope me. Sleep will evade me. And food will not fill me. I will walk until I blister, I will draw until I crash, like a plane, smashinng the table with my face, gruesome, ending in sleep. Pains will keep me up, fears willovertake my little mind and I will break, and it will happen a thousand times; I can see it, I can see my future…

This is the talk of the night. When you stay up late, thinking about all that is now gone, and all that is to come, and being the pessimist because it’s oh-so much easier than to look the sun in the sky and say hey, thank you for shining today. The rains will come and wash away my sorrows and the winter will leave me kindly, not freezing. And in three years we’ll see, do I have what it takes? Well, hopefully.

And will they come to visit me? Will I be alone all my life? or am I just free, waiting… to be?

Tired, useless, apathetic, lethargic, sore, flailing, falling, falling, dreaming…

Will you come visit me?