Lost Words

So, yeah, this is a blog. I guess I should, you know, like, um… write stuff on here? Well, here it goes;

It’s that Time of year where there never seems to be enough Time.  All day every day is filled with Time, but it is never enough. I work quite a bit, but I don’t even pull in 40 hours most weeks. I spend as much Time with my friends as I can, conversing, listing to music, sharing life philosphies. I find Time to make music. I watch movies (but never television), and I read up on all manners of interesting subjects on the interwebs in my free Time. Really, my life is pretty good. But Time is always fleeting.

On the flip side of the coin, I don’t read as much as I like to, because there is never enough Time. In the winter time is sucked up by the cold. I can’t sleep in as long because I have to get up earlier, to warm the car, sometimes to scrape the ice off of it, sometimes just because the roads are so covered in ice it takes more Time to get where you’re going. I sit in traffic and watch Time fly by. It still takes a load of my Time to fall asleep, Time spent trying to calm and sooth my insomnia so that I can wake up refreshed instead of sluggish for work.

Lately, I’ve been pretty nostalgic, but for what or when I am not really sure. I mean, where/when in Time could I be nostalgic for? High school was a haze of horomones and depression, bad grades and cheating girlfriends. After high school was alcohol as the worlds only solution, followed by the ultimate anti-depressant, and experimentation with numerous drugs. Now I’m only 22 years old. I don’t have a ton of awesome memories of being young, and I’m sure I’ll spend the next several years trying to forget high school and my brief tenure in college.

So what is it that I miss?

I don’t know.

I found myself today remebering an ex-girlfriend (no not the cheating one for those of you who know). I walked around Wal-Mart amongst the last minute Christmas shoppers and saw a rubber ducky that was made to look like frosty the snowman. This in turn reminded me of this particular ex, and how much Christmas meant to her, and how nice it was that she was a part of my life at that time. She was one of those relationships that “remindn you how to love again,” because I was definatly, at that time, sure that my heart was nonexistant. If nothing else that relationship showed me that Ii could love again, and that I could be loved. Even if it didn’t last. Even if that was the last relationship I was in. Even if that was 2 years ago. Do you see how the train of thought goes from happy to sad in about 6 seconds?

There is another girl I keep going back to in my mind, one I actually never really dated, though I think there was a time I had a chance. I still talk to her quite a bit, and I’ve watched her go from boyfriend to boyfriend and every time she becomes single again I try and get to a position where we’re better friends again so that I can tell her that I really care about her and I’m sure I could love her more than any of her boyfriends that keep fading in and out of the picture. I’m always to late. I take too much Time. I’m not there enough to even get a chance really. It’s not so much a sad thing really. It makes me happy to see her happy, and out of anyone I have ever been interested in, I mean that the most about her. Her happiness is more important than mine.

But you know, I am still a lonely fellow. I think I may be too complex for most girls. I don’t even really meet new girls at all really. Because of my job I’m always meeting new people, but thats a buisness transaction, not a beginning to a friendship. But really, I’ve got a lot of demons fighting around in my head. I am quite possibley not even stable enough for a relationship, though no one would guess that, only I can admit it. I can’t run away from my scars, I can’t run away from my past, my fuck-ups make me who I am. I’m like a troubled, depressed munk. I know the problems, I can see the root of the problems and I have been learning more about patience and I can stand t o be alone more than ever before in my life…. I keep trying to find the Zen in this depression cycle I keep flowing through. But at the same time, I can’t master it, I can’t perform the surgery on my soul that will make me all better. But who can? Everyone has problems, no exceptions.

Anyway, no matter how much patience I’ve gathered, and how much more I understand the world, I still can’t forget the feel of a razor breaking skin, the adrenalinen rush, dripping blood. It’s like getting high. For a second or two, when your tears and blood drip simultainiously you almost feel better. But depression comes back, it doesn’t bleed out. Suicide is an option, but I decided two or three years ago it wasn’t the answer. Most of you out there already know that it’s not the answer. But I had to learn. Anyway, the only thing that keeps me alive and going is knowing that there are a lot of things that can happen. I’m 22, I’ve got anywhere between 50-80 years of life ahead of me, hopefully, if I don’t fuck it up. That’s a lot more Time than the Time that’s always fleeting from me now. There are a lot of things I could see. But the most important thing is the people. I have met a lot of amaxzing people, and I know I will continue to find them throughout life. And maybe someday I will find love.

Well, I’ve said a lot, but I’ve not made any points. Maybe it’s Winter that brings me down. Maybe it’s the abandonment of a friend as though they were a casualty of war. The War of Growing Up. Maybe it’s because of serotonin levels in my brain. Maybe because of the numerous funerals I’ve been to. Maybe because of the shattering of my heart several times. Maybe because I’ve come full circle back to this town instead of following certain dreams. I loved living in the big city, I loved the idea of becoming a real artist, but I fucked it up, and that big city was twice as lonely, so many hundred miles away from the friends I had known, and the ones I would grow to know since coming back.  Maybe I will never be “fixed”. If I have to live every day dealing with the high’s and the low low’s of depression, so be it. I just hope I can find someone who understands me and can handle the inner pains and the bad decisions and the life choices and philosophies that comprise me.

It sucks to be sad even when things are looking up.

< / end rant >

It’s been a while since I have been on here, though that’s not so say I haven’t been keeping myself busy.

I released my second album, simply titled Goghst, well… a few weeks ago? I didn’t do anything to promote it through my myspace or anything at all about it really other than send it off to the Plague… but I still like it and if you want to hear it, or download it for free (legally!), then go here.

That being said, I have more than enough new music for album three,  but I’m taking my time making it sound right. I’ve started playing with a new drum machine and sequencer and it’s been a lot of fun. I’ve also been working on a side project with a friend of mine who’s recently gotten into making similiar styled music, we have something between 4-6 songs, and our tentative group name is Spacelab 2021. And lastly concerning the musical aspect of my life, I’ve started a Netlabel of my own. Sort of. The idea is to get my friends around town who make music to release some stuff for free, you know, if they are into it. So whenever we tie up the Spacelab project it will be released through the label, as well as my next album, and hopefully an exciting hip-hop/rap ep by a couple of my other friends, and yeah, it actually sounds good.

I am very excited to be a part of this compilation. You can find my track “I’m A Little Paranoid” on the blue disc.

Other news; I will not be releasing the Post Paranoid Depression EP… but everything that was going to be on the EP is now going to be on my second LP for This Plague of Dreaming, which will be coming out some time in the not too distant future.

Goghst is being featured on NTNS Radio, aka NotTheNormal Shit Radio. Go to their myspace page and check it out.

Click more if you would like to read the lyrics I’ve written for the leading track on the EP I am currently working on.

Read the rest of this entry »

You can download my new album now!

Untitled I

Sit under stars
Watch cloud go by
Sad but don’t know why
Maybe losing my mind
I really don’t know why
So I sit
Watch cloud fly by
So I can see the stars
Find my way to happiness again

Untitled II

No one wants to be alone
Late at night clutching telephone
My eyes get droopy and
I feel quite sad
I know when I wake up
I will be alone
Remembering nights I slept
Sound
Girls
With my arms wrapped
Around
Happy to hear the sound of
Breathing
Now I watch horror movies
Late at night
To try and
Give myself a fright
So I don’t think about being
Sad
But
It doesn’t work
So I pray for nightmares
We are what we are

Untitled III

Sunken eyes and
Nosebleeds
No dear diary
Someone hit me
Or at least look at me
See, can you see?
Deep in these dark
Eyes like a black sea
Can you see this is me
Chapped lips
Stumbling across apartments
Wondering where the point is
When this gets pointless
Why fall asleep
When there is so much to see
I’m killing myself just fine
Killing time
So why walk
I run the borderline
Any day could be my day
So I want to live it up
Because I know as always
I’ll fuck it up

Untitled IV

Stars and cold wind
With a cigarette in hand
Eyes barely open
What will it be next
What am I doing
I forget
I’m so tired of it
Tired of nothing
Cause nothing is all I seem to do
And keep hiding other feelings inside
This could be the rest of my life
I hope it goes smoothly from here

What If Maybe Life Was Like A Horror Movie ?

Everyone is scared about something
Bird flu and terrorists too
But have we forgotten our other fears
Clown faced serial killers
Cannibals, zombies, and terrors from outer space
I feel safe here in my home
Not too worried who knows where I sleep
But what if the brainsnatchers were here
What if you are one of them trapped inside your body
And you can’t escape and no one can hear your screams
Out in the woods I hear a chainsaw
And I don’t worry about leatherface
But it might be a bit exciting
If we had these things to worry about
Instead of foreign wars and far off oil fields
Why aren’t there any monsters in my closet
Whats with all these weird noises
Somethings got to be out there
There has to be more paranormal
It could be so much easier if I was helpless
Watch my mouth or get slapped around
And when the murderer leaves the room
I will undo his ties
Run fast and far and long and hide
Taste freedom in every breath
But no one is pointing a gun in my face
I can shoot my mouth off until I get my fix
I can punch myself in the face or slit my wrist
But theres no fear of life challenge in it
I can not run away from myself
I can not exact revenge on my own folly
I wish I could shatter a mirror and watch myself shatter
Leave me behind in pieces
And start a new life
But I’d probably suck just as much at it

Untitled V

I wish I could
Close my eyes
And open them again
To see you
If you knew
It was you I was talking to
Tired and pathetic
Maybe I need to fix myself
But I think I need help
Eyes closed up
And I don’t get the nightmares
All I get are confusing dreams
With all my friends
And you are there
I’m driving buses off cliffs
Running in all directions
Always running out of time
Running out of art and sound
Smells and sights
Whats left to lose
Well I’d like to try being with you
And I’ve tried it all
All the pills, drugs and alcohol
Where are my friends
Which of them is true in the end?
Well time will tell
It always will
But do I have enough time
For this and that
Do I have enough time
To lay hear flat face down
Tired of being apathetic
I close my eyes and the nightmares don’t come
I see you in my dreams
I poured my heart out in a forest
I drowned myself in a dream
So that I could wake up miserable
And never say anything to you
About how I feel
Cause I’m not to sure
If you could feel it to
I’ve had enough of everything else
I’d like to try being with you

(the following is a short story I wrote when I was not sober in the middle of the night, so in retrospect it’s not as good as I thought at the time, so take it lightly.)

Read the rest of this entry »

You’re A Little Paranormal

Hey man,
You’re out there
You are a
Little paranormal
Hey man,
With your
Crazy ideas
And your
Crooked smile
You’re really out there
Man
And I bet you’ve been out there
For awhile
You’re a little paranormal
Hey man,
Lets have some fun
For a while
Show me the ropes man
Take me out there
Where we can be a
Pair of normal

It’s been a long hiatus. I had meant to post pictures of the lunar eclipse and a bunch of drawings, but life is crazy and I almost forgot about my blog.

I visited Portland last weekend through wed, and it was awesome; I plan on moving back as soon as I possible can.

Otherwise, life has been weird. Learning things about old friends and new friends… drama and sadness are everywhere all at once. Life is fucked up. There is so much to learn, but for the meantime I need to grow up and put the journey and the learning and the wonderment on a back-burner until I can afford it all.

Anyway, here is some poetry.

Materialist Capitalists…. Screw This

I’ve got things
I have a roof over my head
I live at home
Just some down time
No bills
I’ve got a car
To burn fossil fuels
I got a record player
And a collection
I got stacks of CDs
Scratched in all directions
I got a computer
A couple of lamps
A couch and a chair
I got my health
I got my hair
I got all my teeth
Full of metal fillings as they are
I got a bookshelf overflowing
A bean bag chair
And an old family painting
But I don’t have happiness
Well I have pills for that
But they don’t seem to do a thing
So I just snort ‘em
I take drugs for my enjoyment
Because it’s got to take somethin’
To get me through the day
But hey, I’m ok
I’m ok, wait, no, no I ain’t, hey hey…
I’ve got a lot of things
I don’t need
So I sold some to the pawn shop
For very little money
And I gave some of it away to goodwill
I spent my last dollar on a vinyl while I was there
And I’m running low on cigarettes
Why is it the things I enjoy most
I have to spend and spend and spend to get again, and again….
I’ve got a spot in the garage
Right next to the cage for the dog
And I’ve got my own bathroom
Next to the laundry room
And I got shoes to cover my feet
Especially when they are cold
And I got clothes
To cover up my tattoos
Because people ask too many questions
If you don’t understand then you are just frustrating
I got glasses to see
See my lungs fill up with disease
I got a glass pipe, just breathe…
I’ve got a diploma But I aint got no job
I am too lazy, spoiled and my mind is overhauled
The circuits keep working and I think too much
I spend more time on the couch then in my bed
Stand outside in the cold wind and smoke more cigarettes
I am looking for meaning
Do you see it in my tiny Buddha statues
What about my tapestry from India
Or the prayer flags above where I rest my head
And all the burnt out candles
Garbage strewn across the floor
Too lazy to care about it anymore
And in the corner a box of cans
Someday it will overflow
And I will recycle them again
Pointless posters on my wall
Tells you the music I like and thats about all
Stupid art I made up between this and the last rut
Is it only cool to me?
Aren’t these only just things?
What makes a man happy?
It’s not a BMW
Or passing lots of tests
It’s not the nine to five or getting more groceries
It’s not the 50 inch screen with the hi-def DVDs
You could cover these walls with shelves
Put the best music out and the best books as well
Showcase all your classic movies
It just doesn’t move me
Monday is just another day
Hey, it’s just another year
Have you forgotten why we are here?
It’s all about the journey
Why are you sitting in that cubicle, unhappy
We don’t need corporations
Let’s burn all our money
It’s already worth less than the paper it’s printed on
Climb a tree don’t cut it down
Look out for others emotions
Run, jump, hit the ground
Why aren’t we happy
We went wrong somewhere
Our fathers got it wrong long ago
It’s all I can do
To just begin anew

[Electric Rain (this is a song I am writing, unfinished right now... theres actually a chorus I wrote but don't want to look for right now, but whats here is good as poetry)]

There is not a lot I could do for you
But if you don’t mind I’ll recite some memories
Talking in my car all night on a new years morning
We could talk about all sorts of things
But we seemed to have differing opinions
I would have kept trying
But inside I was dying
Laying in the middle of your street
Make a snow angel
Tell you you’re an angel too
I think I made you cry
Well it didn’t last long
Not more than a month and you were gone
We went our separate ways
To make our separate mistakes
Now here you are again
It’s so good to hear from you
I guess it’s not always hard to be friends
And when the time comes I’ll be here again
Because the hard times are just beginning
It only goes downhill from here
But I don’t think I could bare to say so to you
You sound so collective, calm and cool in letters
But I can only imagine the many tears
It’s hard to stand on the threshold of the unknown
But as long as you can find me I’ll be here for you
As long as your around I’ll be a friend of you

Read the rest of this entry »

rhythm & soul

yeah, he’s got it right
look at his head bob
he’s got the rhythm
he’s got the soul
yeah, look at him walk
he’s got the gangsta walk
yeah, he’s got the rhythm and blues
yeah, cat’s all get the blues
but he’ll do alright
yeah, he’s got the rhythm and soul
he’s got the rhythm
he’s got the gangsta walk
he’s got the rhythm
he’s got the soul
he’s got the rhythm
he’s got the blues
but watch that gangsta walk
he knows what he’s got
he’s got the rhythm and soul
cat knows how to live
cat knows how to deal with the blues
watch this cat bob his head
walk down the road like he owns this party
yeah cat knows life is a party
he’s got the rhythm and soul
yeah, he got the rhythm and soul

A story from the artmachine collective:

The Life Chaotic

or

How I Went Outsane and Came Back In Lightened

A Semi Auto Bio Graphical Fictionette by Frank Cubing Curance

 (In which you learn that nothing really matters. Except some things.)

Part One 

I am trying to understand how we got here. By “we” I mean the human race and by “here” I mean the current condition of the human condition. By and by and by… and these thoughts have nothing to do with what happened next.

I found myself on this foggy yet moon lit night wading through salty waters along the shore of what I believe was the west coast, but I may have been mistaken. The waves splashed up and hit our faces. And when I say we ad our, I do not know who they are, dig?

On the coastline where police, at least I imagined thats who they were, as I heard dogs that I imagined where police dogs (and if I was right I’m sure the grass in my rucksack is what got them after us in the first place). I am not sure how long we have been running, to tell the truth I honestly believed it was an entire lifetime… a lifetime of sleepless running.

I stopped to stare at the moon, as I was sure we had moved far enough into safety, the dogs sounded far off. The fog lifted and I turned to stare down the roaring beast, the ocean behind me. I was raised near here, and I knew knew knew that you never, ever, ever turn your back on the ocean. Well, stupid fucking me, the wave I saw (barely) was towering over me and thats when I blacked out.

I came to in a beautiful little hut made of cardboard and newspaper that had hand painted designs all over it. When I use the word beautiful, I mean in-as-much-as you stop to glance at a flower and you think, “pretty”, only I stared longer and realized that it was more like, “where the fuck am I?”

“Where the fuck am I?!” I pushed myself to vocalize. My tongue was dry and the morning breath was particularly salty and nasty. I was sore. “Is there anybody here? Hello?”

A woman aproached, she was wearing some kind of native headdress and her breasts where exposed. Though now I couldn’t tell you in all honesty if that is accurate, for all I know she could have been a stripper with a cat-in-the-hat hat.

She gave me raman and spoke in tongues. No, I take that back, she was just Canadian.

“Eh? You need yer rest thur mister, drink up this here soop and go back to sleep, eh?” (This is only my loose translation of her words)

I jumped up to realize I was naked except for a hula skirt made out thornbushes. I yelped in pain and ripped the thorns off, grabbing a dress I can only presume was the strippers, er… I mean native? Whatever, I got my ass out of that there hut and ran into the jungle (or alleyway depending on your point of view). Her dress smelled of papayas and pigion shit.

I came across a cave, or maybe a sewer drain, and I entered, as I had heard the natives coming behind me on the path. Once inside I could not see, but I kept walking, compulsively. Then I fell, and I blacked out once again.

To be continued….

Walk to the elevator
Lift to the roof
Smoke cigarettes
Watch the city beneath
Aw, fuck it all
Aw, fuck, I lost
I’m losing the race
So can I get a glimpse
You hide your face
And just like history has shown me
I am not the best one
Usually I’m second to the next one
What words do we need to speak
It’s not you it’s me
Aw, fuck, how can we believe
Shadows and silohettes
Closer to home than ever before
Or at least in the last five years
If it’s something we can grasp
Well, think, think again
Maybe it’s a cycle
You think while you’re starving
The same girl every single time
In a new body with a different mind
But you can’t figure it out
Like you’re running out of time
Why no reconciliation?
We’re in this together
Aw, we’re fucked
At least we’re losing the race together
Am I just a stepping board
For you to climb on?
Push yourself in
This pool is swimming
Throw your life in
Up late not enough
Sober at least I tried
I can’t decide
What life is for
I am a stepping board
I’ll give you a boost
I do so all the time
Out of sight out of mind
Until I am reminded
All the light and all the love
At least we shared our minds
And maybe that’s enough
Throw your life in
This pool is big for drowning
I can’t say everything I want
And you don’t want to hear what I’ve got
So I will run around
Like my head has been cut off
Need more drugs
Need light and heat
So we can survive a bit longer
Need food because we are mortal
Aw, fuck, we’ve lost it all
We’ve lost our way
There is no turning back
I guess this will have to be home
Throw your mind in

http://www.loyalnine.com

http://www.realnightmare.org/

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…

the city swallows people whole, your body, mind and soul, enveloped into a rose closing it’s petals. The longer you stay cacooned, the less you will get done, but when the cacoon is the city, nothing gets done, where has all the time gone? Old friends make life better, show you how to escape the clutches of the venus fly trap in disguise of a rose, a rose that one day a man stops to admire, and never goes back to life.

I had a surreal moment as I entered the hall, staring at the floor, the pattern on the carpet hurting my eyes, or was it the lights constant buzz? After my smoke, the elevator ride up reminded my stomache that I’ve only slept four hours in the past 37 hours. I then came online and saw a video of a panda-dog cross-bread, and I thought to myself, damn, thats the cutest son-of-a-bitch I did done ever seen; if I ever get rich off of my art, I’m gettin’ me one of those!

The truth of the matter is that no one ever wants the truth to come out, and the truth of the subject is that it’s too hot to let it out, so please let it out, now. Walk 20 some blocks and pass out, sleep through alarms and eat jambalaya, get phone calls, get tired, need a smoke. There was a lot more to this story,but it’s more than I wrote.