pattering on the cement! ahhhhhh.

The Web of Revelation: The Importance of Art Inspiring Art

2012-01-07T18:45:00.000-08:00

1. Read the Subterraneans by Jack Kerouac for College class. Revelation.

2. Read more Kerouac books. Tristessa. Dharma Bums. Visions of Cody. On the Road. Remember quote at the beginning of On the Road by Walt Whitman.

2. Try to listen to some "bop" while reading Kerouac, try to listen to some Billie Holiday, but don't really get into it.

3. Billie Holiday TRUE experience on Bainbridge Isle, sitting in the lazy summer sunset, lethargic and hilarious tripping in the dazzle light and green nature isle. Revelation in the travel speakers, lying in the grass. You go to my head...and you linger like...a haunted refrain...

4. Listen to Billie Holiday. Solitude.

5. Listen to Billie Holiday contemporaries. Ella Fitzgerald. Etta James. Not as good as Billie. Revisit old downloaded Louis Armstrong songs in Itunes library, but don't really get into it.

6. Watch The Future by Miranda July, hate everything about it except for their special song. Look up lyrics on Google, discover Peggy Lee and Benny Goodman. It seems we stood and talked like this before...We looked at each other the same way then...but I can't remember where or when...

7. Listen to Peggy Lee and Benny Goodman's The Complete Recordings 1941-1947. Revelation.

8. Listen to Black Coffee by Peggy Lee. Sultriest of sultry.

9. Have a talk with friend Regina about Jazz music I've been listening to. She shows me Stars Fell On Alabama by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Revelation.

10. Begin listening to Louis Armstrong. Remember soundtrack of The Jungle Book.

11. Listen to the Essential Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington.

12. Watch first 5 episodes of Jazz Documentary by Ken Burns. Gain better perspective on the heart and soul of Jazz. Hear quotes from Langston Hughes work especially in the Jazz tradition.

13. Buy The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes. Discover The Weary Blues. Revelation. Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon, I heard a Negro play...

14. Read further on Langston Hughes poetry and life. Discover influence of Walt Whitman. Remember Jack Kerouac's love for Walt Whitman.

15. Re-read Jack Kerouac. Re-read and rediscover the Subterraneans. New perspective Revelation. The rainy night blooping all over, kissing everywhere men women and cities in one wash of sad poetry, with honey lines of high-shelved Angels trumpet-blowing up above the final Orient-shroud Pacific-huge songs of Paradise, an end to fear below...

ON LOAN 4 $EVER

2011-09-09T22:25:00.001-07:00

please kill me

2011-09-09T00:03:00.000-07:00

when you're down in the dumps, Nothing so uplifting as a good story. Tekkonkinkreet

bloop bloop we gotta do something about your complacency

2011-08-07T17:57:00.001-07:00

I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH HAPPINESS IF IT MEANS ALL I'LL WANT TO DO THEN IS SIT AROUND IN THE SUN WITH A DUMB SLOW SMILE ON MY FACE, SURRENDERED TO THE BORED SKY OF NOTHING BUT BLUE, NO CLOUDS NO THOUGHTS BUT OF LOVELY WHITE SQUARE CAKES AND INVISIBLE LIGHT, NOTHING IN MY DEAD HEAD BUT A SPREAD LANDSCAPE EARTH JAMMED ON THE GROUND OF A HO HUM HORIZON OF DEAD GRINS SKIPPING AROUND IN NOWHERE LAND CHUCKLING CRAZY AND WEIRD IN THE SUBTLEST AND CREEPIEST WAY, FAT AND CONTENT AND TWENTY YEARS OLD THE YOUNGEST AND SADDEST GRANDFATHER WITH NOTHING TO GIVE HIS CHILDREN'S CHILDREN BUT THAT WANKED OUT BLISS SMILE (IS GRANDPA CRAZY MOMMA? WHY DOESN'T HE TALK TO ME ALL HE DOES IS STARE WITH THAT CREEPY SMILE), GIVE ME A GOD DAMN POT HOLE SO I CAN FALL AND TELL YOU A SECRET OF HOW TO DO IT WITHOUT GRACE, I'LL TELL YOU SOME TWISTED TALE ABOUT ______.

uhhhhh....do I even know what I'm talking about, or how young and foolish am I? I really want those clouds the fuck outta here.

one in the same

2011-08-02T15:24:00.000-07:00

Henry Miller's Rosy Crucifixion 1

"once the artist does get a meal he immediately falls back into his own limitless world, and while he's in that world he's a king, whereas your ordinary duffer is just a filling station with nothing in between but dust and smoke. And even supposing you're not an ordinary chap, but a wealthy individual, one who can indulge his tastes, his whims, his appetites: do you suppose for one minute that a millionaire enjoys food or wine or women like a hungry artist does? To enjoy anything you have to make yourself ready to receive it; it implies a certain control, discipline, chastity, I might even say. Above all, it implies desire, and desire is something you have to nourish by living.
[…] I envy the man who has the courage to be an artist--I envy him because I know that he's infinitely richer because he spends himself, because he gives himself all the time, and not just labor or money or gifts."

Kerouac's wisdom

2011-08-01T15:17:00.000-07:00

"Sin is sinking in my bones and making me older and wiser. But I'm only wiser to the wise men--my children grieve for me. Weep for me, weep for anybody, weep for the poor dumbfucks of this world--weep for the waves--weep, weep--now my eyes begin a voyage from which I am going to return resurrected and huge and silent."

voices

2011-07-28T17:39:00.001-07:00

can someone please answer these questions for me

In there any worth in me writing a story that is basically a cheapened version of Jack Kerouac's "Tristessa"?
If it turned out to be, in my eyes, the most successful piece I've written to date, would any publisher desire it? or would they all write it off as a bull shit kerouac rip off?
Is art not inspired by art if the latter art is too closely familiar to the original?
Where is my voice if I feel most free writing with "Kerouac's voice"?
Is "Kerouac's voice" exclusively "Kerouac's voice", or is it a style that is merely untapped literary resources?

Where is my voice?

Who am I?
what is going on?

My content is different. My passion is the same. Kerouac points the way to freedom.

Visions Of

2011-07-27T15:40:00.001-07:00

Fervor in my mental steps from one such KEROUAC, the buddha beast, abstaining and gaining cracked up and decoded in the smoothest of streams, I too flow, and GO, and am on my way to the silent, silent eve. amen.

[YER literary energy, the one that feeds your mind's cogs, and subsequently your physicality. If you find that you are dispassioned, grab word after word--from lyric, book, conversation--and get up and go!]

PLEASE KILL ME

2011-07-10T18:17:00.000-07:00

"Rock & roll is so great, people should start dying for it. you don't understand. The music gave you back your beat so you could dream. A whole generation running with a Fender bass…

The people just have to die for the music. People are dying for everything else, so why not the music? Die for it. Isn't it pretty? Wouldn't you die for something pretty?

Perhaps I should die. After all, al the great blues singers did die. But life is getting better now.

I don't want to die. Do I?"---Lou Reed

2011-07-09T19:31:00.000-07:00

I'm ALMOST READY TO DO SOMETHING

HEAR SOMETHING

DO SOMETHING GO SOMEWHERE

BE somethin

REALLY LOUD SOMEWHERE

but first. I will go home and eat some steak and eggs. hell. yea.

Radio Free Albemuth

2011-06-22T20:48:00.001-07:00

dear internet,

I have hardly begun Phillip K. Dick's book Radio Free Albemuth, and it is already blowing my mind with it's accuracy and relevance both to life in general and my life currently. I will send his lines out here to you as I trek.

"...a victim of his own determinism" p. 27
"It goes into the unconscious and is stored...I think I'm being programmed." p.33
"No, it would all seem natural, what I'd say and do. I'd think that it was my idea." p. 34
"If he had remained in Berkeley he would have lived and died a partial person, never knowing completeness." p. 35

dammit post

2011-06-19T12:22:00.000-07:00

Dear girl who says she likes me but is now in ireland,

Is it okay to say that I wish you were next to me right now? I don't think so--I feel vulnerable and unsure saying these things, but, you know, fuck it!
come back!
god dammit!

ARE MY FEELINGS REAL????????????????????????????????????????????????
HOW LOST AM I???????????? (A: PRETTY FUCKIN LOSTTTTTTTTTTTTT)
IT'LL BE CLEAR IF YOU JUST SIT NEXT TO ME. I'M NOT ASKING,,,,,,,,,,,,
I'M YEL(L/P)ING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sincerely,

SONUVABITCH

(if I still feel these things in a month, I will transfer these words to paper, and address it to hell! Woohoo!)
I DONT KNOW WHAT IS REAL
be wary of feelings. they are intense and they are surreal.

Jackie Wilson

2011-06-19T02:24:00.000-07:00

dear internet,
I've heard it said that Jackie Wilson was one of those one hit wonders. That's not true at all! I recently picked up a 5 dollar record, the jackie wilson story, and it's revived my love for him. Lonely Teardrops live at the copa is so much better than the original.

Playlist of SOUL

2011-06-18T11:46:00.001-07:00

Soul.
I speak of it constantly. to the vomit level? yes, surely. the mirror questions me.
but that is irrelevant. The question is...Do I have it? do you?
Soul!

If it was tangible, where would it be? in your chest?
I think it would be in your feet. your arms. your shoulders. Your knees. Your swingin hands!
SOUL!

Uptight - Stevie Wonder
Exceptional - Elridge Gravy and the Court Supreme
Tainted Love - Gloria Jones
Our Love is Getting Stronger - Jason Knight
Soul Galore - Jackie Wilson
Shotgun - Jr. Walker & the All Stars
Tramp - Otis Redding
(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher - Jackie Wilson
Love Really Hurts Without You Billy Ocean
Nothing From Nothing - Billy Preston
Agent Double O Soul - Billy Preston and Ray Charles
Love is Like an Itching in My Heart - The Supremes
Where Did Our Love Go - The Supremes
Sugar Dumpling - Sam Cooke
Time - Edwin Starr
Living A Lie - High Keys
Love on Delivery - Billy Ocean
Twenty Five Miles - Edwin Starr
What - Judy Street
Goodbye (Nothing' To Say) - The Javells
Elevator Song - Killer Crossover
Ain't Too Proud to Beg - The Temptations
Land of a Thousand Dances - Little Richard
Think - James Brown
Say You'll Be Mine - The Rosebuds
Twistin' the Night Away - Sam Cooke
The Snake - Al Wilson
Move on Up - Curtis Mayfield

Oh man. When everyone can become your baby, and you unto everyone. Move like the cosmic dancer. Dance right from the womb. Music here can lead you to that desperate surrender you never knew you wanted. I'm only describing, passion of the sun, and your fear of it's ferocity, intensity, in your ears, your open eyes, your hippie hipster hipping hips. the fear that moves you onwardS!

SOUL

You got your own pair--no one can give it to you, no one can find it for you.

SOUL!
use it!
use it!
use it!
use it!

who beats the shit out of the tom-tom

2011-06-15T21:46:00.000-07:00

"Then: Velvet Underground minus Nico but featuring a drummer named Maureen who beats the shit out of the tom-tom and the bass drum. Her heavy, continuous 4/4 outpouring on the drums slams into your bowels and crawls out your asshole. Meanwhile, the rest of the band makes a sound that can only be compared to a railroad shunting yard, metal wheels screeching to a halt on the tracks. It's music to go out of your mind to, if that's your bent."

--Robert Gold, Shrine, Los Angeles Free Press, July 26, 1968

I think this is a tacky post

2011-06-06T13:51:00.000-07:00

the greatest love may be simple, the best love is like music:::

More than your words,
I need your space
right next to me
across from me
I could sleep with you there
finally
The sun is breaking through
you step towards me
quiet
I feel more than I know
the earth is steady
and it is moving because it is so
I cannot enter myself
without your breath
stay right there
right here
we'll lie around together
you'll raise me from the drunken floor
tomorrow

Words from a friend

2011-06-06T13:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes (or most of the time), expression is much clearer when helped along through by a friend, through correspondence.

1. Progress has been little to none. I don't understand the word "progress" anymore as I don't see anything worth progressing in. I reread my previous words below, and that man that I was sounds very optimistic. In reading all of pessoa's reflections and in doing my own, it's so interesting to see the ups and downs of attitudes and perspectives. Flippant state of mind. but is there a constant joy that will raise me from the floor every morning?

2. You know, the idea of progress is tricky.

I really think that progress is this weird thing that happens and
doesn't happen. Like you have to "show up" and work at it happening.
And even then, I wonder how much progress is always forward-thinking.
I was out for a walk last night, it was nice and cool up here in St.
Louis Heights, and I thought how we are always revisiting our past,
how in this ultra-connected world, we're supposed to be every part of
ourselves all of the time. It's like if a molting snake had someone
following behind it, always collecting the skin that it had lost,
asking the snake to put back on the skin it had already moved on from,
grown out of. "Love me for the man that I am, not the man that I
was," the Avett Brothers sing.

This morning on the way to school I was reading some of one of
Frederick Buechner's biographical books and I felt more myself than I
had in a long time, like that moment a couple of weeks ago where, for
thirty minutes, I felt genuinely happy again for no real reason. But
something about what I read this morning reminded me that something
about life is very, very good. That books are important and people
are more important and that "everything's lost and everything's found"
all at once, again and again.

Or something like that. There's something about the day to day that
we have to master, that we have to shape and form and guard. You'd
think I'd have that down by now, but I don't. And you'd think more
people would talk about that kind of thing, but they don't. Maybe
that's the curse of being a single guy. But I'm holding out hope for
the summer days where I have less to worry about and more time to
maybe get a little closer to the person I want to be.

3. I feel your words have helped me today more than it would have earlier. I find myself in a hole of invisible terror.

I believe that you are right about having to "show up and work at progress". I've not been doing that, but rather, I've been waiting to have a desire to work at progressing. again, it is the tiredness. and also, perhaps, a fear that if I try, I will fail. an insecurity.

The past. I realize that I am everything of my past, even as I am not thinking of any of it. While at the same time, I am an entirely new person. I hope I am becoming a better version of myself with each step, but I fear the hard times that I will need to pass through in order to reach that bettered self.

I've been dealing with my anxieties with alcohol and the such. It doesn't help. It distracts from progress, it puts off confronting the future for momentary pleasures and sometimes no pleasure at all, it just gives me simple ignorance. But sometimes I see myself clearer, and I see that the inner self is exposed in the drunkenness. Inhibitions drop, and you perhaps turn into an exaggeration of your inner emotion. You laugh longer, cry louder, hug harder. But the mornings are much lower, and I end up wasting hours lying on the floor, feeling sick, wishing and sleeping. I wonder if this depression is purely me, or if it is simply a voice of doubt that the real me must conquer.

I am looking through my journal, I know that I have experienced that happiness you spoke of. and it's strange because I find it amidst these depressing entries. life is good. and though I feel down right now, I look outside, and the sun has just broken through the clouds. I feel a warmth that can't be explained.

BRONTO

2011-05-09T17:11:00.000-07:00

I've been published! !!!!!!
by my roommate adam. Our group of friends are starting a website called Brontosaurus Boys, which is a collection of our profound thoughts. We're the next generation. We're super fuckin smart. Hallejujah! Change the World! We're smart!

Nowhere to go

2011-05-04T15:13:00.000-07:00

If I could categorize the young city life today with a few words of priority, it would be with "sweet nothings".

Is this obvious?
Has there been a group of these people in every generation, simply fluctuating over the years in influence over history? Is our generation the strongest, the weakest, or none of the sort?

If I could use a song, it would be "You Never Give Me Your Money" by the Beatles. An age killing song.
If I could use another song, it would be "O Sweet Nothin" by the Velvet Underground.

Will we take these magic feelings of nowhere to go, and use it to better the men and women standing next to us?

Perhaps these are just my ideals. But I think generalizations of contemporary life are always based on ideals. and Ideals on ideas. Ideas the foundation of change, of ideals becoming reality.

today, I feel as contemplative as a giant, as intangible as the wind.

Rockin

2011-05-03T17:08:00.000-07:00

tired. so tired of thinking.
But loving music like it is yesterday. Like it is tomorrow.
This is music for the old man in the rocking chair with his banjo and whiskey.
drunk, but not too drunk, with his newly awoken tired bones, content.

Prodigal Son - Rolling stones
Strangers - The Kinks
Papa Rolled His Own - Tommy james and the shondells
Maggie Mae - Beatles
Dear Doctor - The Rolling Stones
For You Blue - Beatles
You Gotta Move - Rolling Stones
I Know Who I Am - Tommy james and the shondells
Death of a Clown - The Kinks
Two Of Us - Beatles
This Time Tomorrow - The Kinks
Factory Girl - Rolling Stones
Makin Good Time - Tommy James and the shondells
Rocky Racoon - The Beatles

Do you ever think of the road that you have not been on, the one formed from maybe yourself, but definitely from your perception of the world? This music puts me at the end of this road (which is most likely, somewhere in the middle of the road where I finally found peace, which is what I'm after right?). Ahhhhhhhh harp harp, sing of my soul, use it on your lips.

BLUE

2011-04-18T17:41:00.001-07:00

I love giving my hands to the sky. I don't do it often.
but in Seattle, some days deserve it.

The morning that has been christened by the sun fills your nose with existence.
Walk and walk to where the leaves end, to the blue

The lake lay blue below the hill,
O'er it, as I looked, there flew
Across the waters, cold and still,
A bird whose wings were palest blue.
The sky above was blue at last,
The sky beneath me blue in blue,
A moment, ere the bird had passed,
It caught his image as he flew.

open up your neck today.
surrender.

this is perhaps what it feels like to be in a church worship service?

PLANET FORMERLY known

2011-04-12T15:41:00.000-07:00

I'll be published on The Planet Formerly Known As Earth in a few days. it's a collection of doomsday material on a lit blog. They have really awesome stuff on there. read them before we;re all dead!!

A playlist about BABY.

2011-04-11T03:41:00.001-07:00

I spent most of the day making this and then listening to it. odd satisfaction in it. I feel equally as fulfilled creating a poem as I do a playlist like this. They move me. the light and heavy moods of love and want. Oh I want you so bad it's driving me mad driving me mad//
I can't imagine anyone not being torn even a little by ray's voice.

Bad Boy - The Jive Bombers
My Baby! - Ray Charles
You and Me - Penny & the Quarters
Mama Don't Like My Man - Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings
Baby It's You - the Beatles
After Laughter Comes Tears - Wendy Rene
Cherry - The Jive Bombers
I Cried a Tear - Penny & the Quarters
I Want My Baby Back - David Bowie
La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf
You Are Giving Me Some Other Love - Penny & the Quarters
Be My Baby - The Ronettes
Comeback Baby - Ray Charles

Be my baby!!! who is your baby? whose baby? whooose? These songs belong with a lover. Your lover. Or deep inside your chest. open your chest. fuck the decemberists. fuck the ________. be a real person, not as you KNOW how, but as you once were, when you were born, when you were a baby. be mine. i want you. saxophoneeeeEEEE!!!

Croon

2011-04-11T01:06:00.000-07:00

I am dreaming of a different girl.
She leans forward and pulls me in.
What is her name?
She has two.
She is not one.

I wake up in light through the tree, in love.
I am the Sun King, for a moment. Sing.
I am awake. Why?
There is no love here.
The sun is still here.

Beer walkabout and I see her, the dream.
I call her the other love again.
I am unsure of her.
Her dress lingers on red, or blue.
I don't think she should come home with me.

Night.
I am in the space of the black window. My room.
Arched back captured by the couch, head expanded.
I am the walls, I am the bed, I am the dead air.
In the center, The radio scratches its throat.
Women holler with hips and shoulders, "Be my baby!"
I am down in my heart.
Baby.
Lover.
Darling.
Do I want you because you are none of these?

2011-04-11T00:02:00.000-07:00

that magic feeling
Nowhere to go

jesus is back at some point

2011-03-20T13:02:00.000-07:00

DEar ,

do you experience the dead sea?
The only way you can, in your head.

That seems to mean that I don't know what's going on. Life is awesome, I think, but it is artistically dead. unsure of what that means?

There is a large disconnect between my inner voice and outer voice these days. Inner voice has been stifled, or on vacation, at the hospital, with lazy legs, with malnourished...donuts...

mind will wander to the laziest field....

google. gaggle. peter's punch. fiend. weather fixable constable.

mind will dot off on the page...full of heavy hair. but looking up. Loki in the sky.

To the garage scene, The Kinks were more important than the Beatles.

2011-02-15T20:45:00.000-08:00

I am dead man

2011-01-05T00:32:00.000-08:00

This guy seems like a decent man, hope this works out for him.

echos moron

2011-01-02T00:54:00.000-08:00

I have no new thoughts today
I knew nothing today in my cubicle room I did the f9 thing on my old/new macbook
all day, I had no new thoughts today
I knew nothing today I played a game where all I did was click 2-3 times every 10-15 minutes
all day, I have no new thoughts
today I put Jungle Book into the VCR and went to my bed to sleep before feature presentation
I know nothing knew nothing new this day
I ate mini portions of fried rice 8 times in 8 hours today
I think
I will clean my room the rest of the day
and tomorrow I will live here.

Self: keep track of these text messages

2010-12-18T19:54:00.000-08:00

I don't wanna fight a war with doo doo on my face - adam
I am STIMULANT GAWD! - rahel
Fuck a horse with a 2 by 4 - kyle
God, cartel was such a great fucking band - danyo
Gareth lim is such a little dick - chase
Tiny dresses pink violet black why do fat girls insist - kelli
thanks, that's good to know. its defunct now, and i'm broke, so i guess it doesn't matter one way or the other. but blunt later this week - logan
we probably both pot a s on our paper - robin
moses is being really standoffish to his new sis. decided to go upstairs this morning away from her - mother
wait? .e tooooo!!! - rahel
when are we gonna do mushrooms - ashley
Johannesbourough fuckin' A - chase
sorry for messing up - cambray
Who wants to go grocery shopping with me? - logan
Thad you will fail class when we have it tomorrow morning because it is our last class
Will you listen to I'm so tired for me? - kyle
Tommy is drunk and crying while chopping onions. he keeps saying "fuck you, onions. fuck you. the more I hurt you the more I hurt". he doesn't know I'm home. - rahel
dede...super cool or super bitch? Or super cool bitch? Or super bitchin and cool? Or cool and super bitch? Or super cool and/or bitch? - chase
No way! Hero! - robin
Son of a bitch bastard - adam
Gaineet iced indiffi illesyog monie.fi glumma gee.b.b.nonmo.b.charlie ? - ben

holy

2010-12-15T02:18:00.001-08:00

there are a couple things that I know I need to write about in my lifetime, but have found it impossible to even attempt thus far. They crinkle my vision and burden my chest and etc/. They come in flashes, I ignore them, let slip a whimper, and go about a walk or drink with better times.
They nibble at me daily, I don't know exactly what to do with them.

I am young. time will bring words to my thoughts. yes?

"patience is your ally"-batman

Number 9 (124/10)

2010-12-09T20:00:00.000-08:00

what if i named every piece of work i did (painting, prose, poetry, music, etc) what if i named everything "NUMBER 9". this poem is called "NUMBER 9". it is the first of its kind, number nine:

I'm on the edge of my seat here
in the city of stranger people

my chest is on the edge of itself.
I don't know if it is a natural consequence
if I am hungry, starving, losing conscious.
my chest is out of me, I am jittery without it, starving starving.

Words from ONLY some darling
quicken my existence
I feel her message forwarded towards the end of everything
The night is so quick it is unsettling

give myself peaceful smoke
to meander silently into the eve
become a small dazzling light in the distance
small, alive, wished upon wondered
gather the dust between YOU and ME

I need sand to bury my feet in
shore in my ear to lay me down
quiet!
quiet!
Hear of the other sea in the shells
shut the traps
the doors are down
and...there!
the endless invisible waters
Are you thinking of me?

soft. sweet. tired. cup of caffeine
transform my sight and my actions
in time I execute my future tongue
by digging into the holes of thought
there is never so much
as every vaguery of "ALL"

I will now talk about "ALL":
In saying it and "nothing"
I empty myself over the keyboard.
display an array of every hungry inside
that pokes its head down in my head's cavern
dark dripping pillars
down on down towards the shitter
of the future of other tongues
publish publisher publication

These hours I've worked my head in a way so that
I cannot find my place back in the seat and the table.
I sprint and tumble about in the empty space between
a YOU and a ME

Sitting requires starving your baby
and I owe a drugged up panic to that
baby building himself a rabid panther
dashing without eyes, towards his brothers !
It's Me! My friends!!!!!!

quiet quiet quiet
quiet. QU(IET.
this city is underwater,
the people have gills
and I do not, but I wander
my body finds a tunnel
and my soul continues

chatter on chalky bulk unstable under pressure deeper swollen murky residue
little for the best
give a little for the best
and a littler for the rest.
Once you're open like this
you cannot speak.

Sweet Assholes Are Forever

2010-11-07T22:17:00.000-08:00

My friend (enemy?) Rahel and I made a bet today
NOVEMBER 7 2010
NOVEMBER 7 2010
NOVEMBER 7 2010

If she doesn't date michael cera in 3 years, then she owes me $50.
you have 3 three 3 three years, you "sneaky slut"

This is an internet reminder,
because the internet is forever.
Sweet assholes are forever!

If michael cera finds out about this,
that is disqualification.
Terms are that
Michael cera has to ask rahel out,
or that is disqualification

DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ DQ

DAIRY QUEEN
DISQUALIFICATION
DAIRY QUEEN = DISQUALIFICATION

If RAHEL AND CERA END UP DATING WITHIN THE THREE YEAR TIME LIMIT, BUT ANY OR ALL OF THE DATING IS DONE AT DAIRY QUEEN, THEN THAT IS A DQ

rahel,
if you haven't dated michael cera in three years time,
you owe me.
you have until NOVEMBER 7TH, 2013.
ALL DQ'S RESULT IN ME WINNING $$$$50$$$$$

2013
get crackin
I really don't think you're "his type"
I think you're an ugo

if the world ends before 2013 (via 2012 mayan) then that is also a DQ.

Why are all the studio girls looking for love?

2010-11-05T01:46:00.000-07:00

So uninspired to do anything.
feel crowded in by made up 'responsibilities'

Dave davies and Ray davies make me sad

been listening to "Man on the Moon" by The Jesus and Mary Chain all day.

I haven't written a poem since
I don't know when.
What's next after this
what's next?

Seems like there is nothing to do
but make money
to pay rent, buy food, repeat.
perhaps I'll treat myself to ice cream
but then what
perhaps I won't treat myself to ice cream
and then what

I don't talk to myself anymore.
I just think to myself
do I want chocolate? My tongue wants it.

"You make me laugh
You make me want to talk
You make me laugh
You make me want to talk
You make me laugh
You make me want to talk"

And that's all that matters
Chocolate doesnt do that to me

google trip

2010-10-03T18:10:00.000-07:00

google "death is a toad with a cape"

Insta-google is freaky.

2010-09-24T00:33:00.000-07:00

I see the end
the end the end
the end of me and
the end of you, twenty feet down
there
lost in some
Mickey d's patties
The end of me
sitting in a fountain
wishing for wishing in central park
the end of you
on the ground
walking taller than
your stubby shadow

mother effin
jesus
I'm tired and all I do is stare
What's some good music I should listen to. everything is shit. I am listening to the Temptations, Ray Charles. Should I just stop listening to music. Should I try to listen to silence.

right on

2010-09-11T21:56:00.000-07:00

experiment: in a room with people, but only conversing through gchat.

I feel conscious of the "trying to do something"
I can't get into it at first because I am too aware of the physicality of other people
I am out of the (holy) moment, feeling cliched or something

Starting to feel high.
this is strange
What should I do.
the screen is getting hazy.
I'm trying to write while trying to chat
seems impossible. I'm too aware
of existing.

the face is moot.
an exclamation point flows directly out of the head
to the fingertips
and there is no physical recognition

I feel high.
I wonder what an acid flashback feels like
whether I can tap into it like this

after more time
It seems I can't break the silence
even if I tried.
I feel more solitary, enough to work more efficiently
but there is a lingering "forcefulness"
feel in limbo

There is a window next to me
I'm tempted to jump out the window.
because I'm high
because it seems like the right thing to do
people would scold me and scoff
but no one understands
that it was more of an arbitrary decision

okay I'm gonna do it
but just in my mind.
gonna listen to ariel pink's haunted graffiti
and just float down to the ground

I need to get the mood.
what emails should I respond to
who should I think of
to set my mind on the correct course
set me into gold blue light

can I use you for my happiness
my happiness depends on your happiness
your happiness should be a true silver
for this to work

I see my Generation Y, or whatever, in 5 pictures

2010-08-25T00:36:00.000-07:00

New York Times did a piece on the twenty-somethings of 2010.
Why are you so passionate about being so dispassionate, gen Y?
gen Y, you're acting like a child, and you know your booze/drugs.
What are you gonna do with yourself, gen Y? Farmshare? TFA?
Y all, listen, GEN Y, you have to listen, to the echoes of tradition.

2010-08-02T17:31:00.001-07:00

today you love life
tomorrow you hate life
tomorrows tomorrow, you know you loved life today
but you don't remember the feeling
early in the morning you wake from a broken smoke alarm
boosted on a couch you beat on it
like last night, the drinks to your head
little self whispers: why? why? why?
but you know he doesn't make sense
because that humming feeling
its the light in the window

Letters from a drugged up homeboi

2010-07-18T20:42:00.000-07:00

Sent: Wednesday, June 30, 2010 2:41 AM
To: Kyle
Subject: slj KING KAHN

hey buddy.
it's 11:07?
i think my computer is covered in ash from the morning bbq?
did we bbq this morning?

seems like ash is everywhere

not morbid
though
like clammy
on my hands
grime as an objective source of income

look at this picture dammit:
http://beyondasiaphilia.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/srk-snap.jpg

sincerely,
Jesus

kyle you are awesome from ashley

she's tripping
adam is showing tim the kryptonite napalm
i

Check out this Beaut

2010-07-14T15:55:00.000-07:00

I really like "the Canoe"

2010-07-08T00:44:00.000-07:00

this house stinks

I have not created
I have not create
I think of a moon that is not there
a drooping moon
with a howling hum
a moon that is a clock that is a melting clock

my insincere fingers
are my fingers
they rub and grate against me
they remind me of dumb tractors
and they rumble like:
"hand grasp pearls
was it wrought in peril!"

my passivity grew like hidden babylon
I found myself gorging on the clouds
vaguely thanking god
for a vicious metabolism
and up close the drooping moon said
you've misplaced memory,
he said, there is nothing
quite like beer in bed

Sleepy Sun - Fever

2010-07-07T17:08:00.000-07:00

This is part of a story I hope to finish someday

2010-06-19T17:05:00.000-07:00

Nic wrote his name in the ground, stared at it, watched the lines slither and warp. It moved as fluid as Nic’s own hands, and body. He tried to understand the way the lines moved by letting his own hips shake like a belly-dancer. Not working, Nic thought, but this dance feels fun. Funny.
“This chalk is fucking fantastic!” Matt said. “Great idea Cambray, such a great idea.”
Four hours in, how long had they been drawing on the sidewalks?
“I see my name, it’s so weird. Look at my name. Is that me?” Nic had been struggling to comprehend those letters for, it seemed, seven minutes now. What did they mean, really? “It’s like a mirror of my physicality. But I don’t—it’s not—it’s a prison of misunderstanding. Misrepresentation.”
“I can’t see it!” Cambray said. “It just looks like lines. But, wow, the color is amazing. It jumps out, and I can feel it! Vibrancy. Aura. Color is so beautiful. I hope I don’t ever go colorblind.”
“A mirror of my body, the vessel that carries my heart and soul!” Nic said. They burst out in laughter, and Matt threw himself to the grass, rolling about. And Nic saw that the grass was paint, and that Matt was coming alive in it, neon green on his clothes, his hair.
Matt drew his name on the sidewalk. “Shit! It’s so foreign isn’t it? It’s like…it’s not me. Am I Matt? Matt. Matt. Matthew. Matt. Matthew.” He touched his fingers to the ground, tracing the letters.
“Matthew? Matthew? It’s not you, Matt. Matt is not you. You are you. Matt is not you.” Cambray said. Nic agreed vigorously. No, Matt was not green. Matt was Matt.
They moved down the sidewalk, Cambray trailed a line of blue chalk. “If we get lost, we can follow this line back from whence we came.”
Onwards they travelled, and they passed a bum peeing on the sidewalk. The urine flared up and subsided, darkening the side of the wall and the ground. Acidic steam rose as it melted the pavement. The man turned and smiled a toothy grin. “Did that bum just piss on you Matt?” Nic said.
“What! Shit! Are my jeans pissed on?”
“Is it damp? Feel your leg. Touch it,” Cambray said, trying not to laugh.
“Oh shit! I don’t know! What the hell! I don’t know!”
They came across a bench on the sidewalk. It sat beside a little pool of water surrounded by swaying, blooming flowers. They spoke, they whispered things to Nic that he could not understand. A sign stapled to a tree shouted, “THIS IS A PUBLIC PARK. YOU ARE UNDER CAMERA SURVEILLANCE.”
They sat on the bench, felt the cars rumble past, saw the dogs walking their owners.
“Thanks for convincing me. I’m so happy we did this together,” Nic said.
“No, no Nic. Thank you. I thank you and Cambray,” Matt said.
“No, I thank the Lord our Savior and Father...and Lord our Jesus for this time we’ve each spent together,” Cambray said.
They put their arms around each other and pushed their heads together, laughing and grinning.
“We’re golden children,” Matt said.
They lifted their hands to the sky. The sun had set its course, down the horizon. It flung its finale up across the trundling clouds. And they were brought to life in a reverberation of fiery light. They were wrought in pink cotton, transformed into elephants grazing the heavens.
“I feel like we are the greatest underdog sports team ever,” Nic said.

Silver Saxaphones

2010-06-08T02:04:00.000-07:00

affection flitting filtered
in a bucket of mud
under the rain

soil slipped shoes
down the hill I
ponder weights thrown
down the sole you
walked me to my room
I would walk you to yours

under drunken stars
your breath swept up mine
sotto voce
and I thought on a crevice
of another time
where I was tired
and you were tired

I think I would like to move away now.

blgbl

2010-06-04T01:25:00.000-07:00

a girl jumped from the 2nd floor of pigott today
"I'm gonna do it!" she probably said, over and over, for 30 minutes.
and when she finally did it, she sprained her ankle or something.
"Go big or go home!" someone wanted to yell
but then thought, "nah, you can't joke about this shit
out in public, and in front of all these police."
"The stress!" she probably thought, "It's too much!"
of course, she couldn't have thought it was a suicide attempt,
being one measly floor up.
maybe this was simply her "stress relief activity",
similar to the "dog stress relief" party that they always have during finals week
all that stress was in her foot,
and she totally said, "fuck you, stress"
good for her
good for her
fuck work before it fucks you.
she's smarter than anyone I know.
(is she "hot"?
is she single?)
also, it was a nice distraction
for everyone else.
"we're all in the same boat" the girl probably thought,
"so I'll give of myself to these people."
we can all learn a thing or two
from my future wife, faux-suicide girl,
the sexiest, most giving woman to fall on the planet

Some kind of stress

2010-06-01T23:07:00.000-07:00

jumble drunk mind--
set on restitution
in a keyboard
I'll seek my God in a pill
and if that doesn't work
I'll distress and cry Jesus
and if that doesn't work
I'll stagger on towards time
and hope to fall on the other side

LOST

2010-05-24T12:44:00.001-07:00

LOST tells me in its finale:

nothing in life matters but the relationships you make
there are many mysteries that we will never know the answers to
so go spiritual instead of scientific

Hm, that's nice, I guess.
I wish I could've gotten "trashed" after the finale but I had homework to do.
specifically, I had to finish PKD's book, Man in the High Castle.

All LOST letdown aside, it was awesome to parallel this ending with PKD's ending. Double climax.

both deal with alternate histories. The real ending scene to LOSt is a picture of the initial plane crash scene. There are no survivors. PKD tells a story where Germany and Japan win WWII. Doesn't seem to be an alternate history by the end of the book. More like an parallel dimension that refers to ours.

"I thought you lived in a fortress," Juliana said.
Bending to regard her, Hawthorne Abendsen smiled a meditative smile. "Yes, we did. But we had to get up to it in an elevator and I developed a phobia. I was pretty drunk when I got the phobia but as I recall it, and they tell it, I refused to stand up in it because I said that the elevator cable was being hauled up by Jesus Christ, and we were going all the way. And I was determined not to stand."

Ancient Submissions.

2010-05-20T20:54:00.000-07:00

What is Gothic Funk?
Their blog seems strange, like it's trying to keep its identity a secret.
Also, their name clashes with the website layout.
or maybe not, I guess, since "funk" is attached to "Gothic"
I guess it flips the intended meaning of just "gothic"

it seems I submitted something to them over a year(?) ago.
It seems like it will appear in this cool/confusing format like this
I've forgotten what these guys are all about.
Did I even submit the poem, or did they steal it from my hard drive?
People take so long handling submissions these days.
Some older poet told me that once upon a time editors sent replies within 2-3 weeks.
I'm too young to know that time. Sounds mythical.
anyway, thanks for accepting my work Gothic Funk.

Internet Doldrums

2010-05-12T01:26:00.000-07:00

entering maybe my 5th hour straight on the internet
not counting a nap that cut between my surfing experience
I didn't plan this, it just happened
I've wasted most of the last 26 hours with these pixels:

12am- feeling feverish/bieberish
12am- try to download azure for the first time
12am- try to download connect360
12am- surf interweb try to find zune software for macbook
1am - succeed in connecting macbook to xbox360
1am - watch Reggie Watts m4v on TV via xbox
1am - feeling sicker, eating ice cream remedy
3am - Advil pills/sleep

12pm- Wake up/ open up Macbook/ open up Itunes/ Fats Waller "Ain't Misbehavin'"
12pm- Kellogg's Cereal "They're GREAT" (good source of vitamin D)
12pm- Tylenol extra strength
1pm - Coffee shop to review for Jesus Test
1pm - research (via WIKIPEDIA) on the Gospels
2pm - typing out things about Jesus
2pm - 2 minute "mental bitching" session
3pm - collaborate with friend on an "aloud bitching" session
4pm - Get into the zone, the Jesus zone. Start the online test.
5pm - Fail to finish test in the time limit
5pm - Tylenol Extra Strength
6pm - meet someone new/ look at artwork/ wonder about "gaydars"
6pm - meet a good looking/ friendly cat
7pm - Advil
8pm - Steak plus carrots / airborne
8pm to 10pm-- ONLINE --Yahoo, Outlook, Pitchfork, Blogspot, Wired, HTMLgiant, Google, Youtube, Facebook, MSNBC, SeattleUniversitySpectator, Hulu, The Strokes, Dilandau, Grooveshark, AssociatedPress, Gmail, HipsterRunnoff, DropBox, Woot, TomsShoes, heheheheeheeeheh, yo-yo master Prankster, Riot Dog, Futurama, Repeat

10pm - Sudden Nap
11pm - Wake up dazed. Neck cramp. Sticky mouth. Confidence loss. Fever, not for the Bieber.
11pm to 2pm-- ONLINE-- Yahoo, Outlook, Pitchfork, Blogspot, Wired, HTMLgiant, Google, Youtube, Facebook, MSNBC, SeattleUniversitySpectator, Hulu, The Strokes, Dilandau, Grooveshark, AbsolutepunkForums, Gmail, HipsterRunnoff, DropBox, Woot, TomsShoes, heheheheeheeeheh, Rhinoceros Escape, Riot Dog, Family Guy, Repeat

2pm - silence except for the quiet humming of the computer. achieved a dizzied state, altered state by staring at screen for lengthened state/ not moving anything but hands and fingers. It's an electric dream.
2pm - Tylenol /sleep

These are the questions I want to see answered:
(how many hours per day do you spend on the computer
how many hours per day does Avey Tare spend on the computer
how many hours per day does TAo Lin spend on the computer
how many hours per day would Jesus spend on the computer?)

maybe I wish a had a mom here to take away my computer privileges
I remember when I let go of my FAcebook,
I remember how free I felt
I want to feel free again

The Garden morning is Full of Fiction

2010-05-10T01:53:00.000-07:00

Slinking
in the morning
is a cadence
and a quiver of green
In the chest arise
eloquent blades
convene to a whisper
"this day is sol
and something something"
But it was not a day
it was a moment of
prehistoric patience
and I sat upright on a couch
as if I was sleeping

the Garden of Forking Paths

2010-05-05T00:42:00.000-07:00

Ana C. put one of my "poems" up here
Ana C. used one of my drawings here
She seems like a genuine person

I read this short story "Garden of Forking Paths" by Jorge Luis Borges.
it was so short, only ten pages long.
the last page gave me chills, and I wrote in my book
"chills chills when did a book last give you chills?"
I don't remember. A while ago.
Maybe it was Septimus' suicide scene in Mrs. Dalloway.
and before that...oh i dont know
I mean, I've read some very good stories/books
but nothing compares to Borges story. It's haunting. It's haunting me. It was hard to speak afterward, I just kept saying aloud "What? What? What?" I couldn't get back into reality, I was stuck in the story.

Damn. Damn. completely mind blowing.
It's a mystery. about time. about parallel existence. and all the forks.
god damn.

I AM MINISTER. (call on me for all your marital needs)

2010-04-28T20:18:00.000-07:00

2010-04-26T00:31:00.000-07:00

mother am I smart?
mother I'm not drunk I can't think
mother tell me how dumb I am
mother be honest with me
mother how many terrible decisions have I made
mother I can't see myself when I walk past the mirror
mother thank you for not lying, but that's no help
mother thank you
mother bless you

Tao Lin + Pilot Books

2010-04-23T16:06:00.000-07:00

I am awake at 11:30
Should I skip my class?
I have a beautiful schedule that looks like
12:15-1:20 some class
1:30-3:35 some class
3:45-5:50 Time Travel class
6:00-8:00 some class
I will skip. the sun is out, and Tao is out.

I walked into Pilot Books at 12:

Tao Is talking to this man
Summer is there
and no one else. I feel exclusive.
I sit in some chair and look at Tao Lin
He is a real person
He says some things to me, I don't remember

other people arrive

(Girl is quiet the whole time, her boyfriend or boy friend talks about "shitstorm alberto")

(guy says "Oh, I KNOW, about muumuu house")

(Woman seems unaware of generation. though she seems genuinely interested. She talks aloud about herself for some time, and I think I'd rather like to hear Tao talking instead)

He was talking about MuuMuu House
But I mostly couldn't hear him
because my brain was screaming about
"something something Tao Lin something"
and then stopping to ponder if
Tao Lin would hang out with me if I invited him
to this show that a friend and I wanted to go to

Or, wouldn't he say yes if I invited
to smoke him out, with some of my raddest of friends?

He was talking all the while
He had this invincible smirk on him
whenever it got quiet

And he threw BrandonSCottGorrell's book at everyone in the room
per BrandonSCottGorrell's request via Video Chat from Mexico
I think I said "I already have one"
I think he said "have another one"
now I have 3 of this book
1 as a galley copy, i guess, when I was at Wave Books
1 from some sale Tao was having at his online store
1 from going to this muumuu house session

Someone asked BrandonSCottGorrell
"is gchat good for relationships?"
he said yes
he said "I made a lot of internet friends on gchat. High quality ones"

Right before that Tao said about the muumuu house website
"It's supposed to be innovative but nobody cares"

I had to leave in the middle of his presentation
I have to leave Tao, sorry I'm being rude,
It's not that I'm bored
I just have to learn about Jesus.
He said "what's your name"
I said "thad"
and I felt like it was a holy moment
"I'll be back" I said
and the sun was still out

************

I Return at 6pm.
how could so many people fit in Pilot Books
everyone is young
after tao reads there are questions and there is also silence
in the silence everyone wants to hug tao lin
everyone wants to buy him a drink
everyone wants to know whats on his ipod
everyone wants to have a gmail chat with him
except, if possible, in real life

I ask him to sign the back of my phone
We talk about putting tape on it so that it will last
but I also liked the idea of it fading away with time
His signature is already gone

I'm not sure if I regret not using tape
I think I'm okay with it

When I meet "famous" people
I'm sometimes not sure about myself
I think I give them too much power over me
power that I don't enjoy being witness to
that allows them to sort of transcend humanity
one of my friends put it
"They know nothing about me, and I know so much about them
why don't they want to know about me"
the balance is off as if
I told a girl that I liked her
and she said nothing to me
and I would then want to erase her from my memory
but I felt like meeting tao was different for some reason
like he was more human then me
and maybe he would even hang out with me

Hurl

2010-04-21T02:28:00.001-07:00

I'm probably not anyone
I'm an amalgam of the culture
of my teachers
I'm roughly 3,000,000 pixels
I am bound in history

420 has been a series of 3-5 days
because my time is private
and I am from head to feet
a deadline sick in bed

A poem from James Murphy

2010-04-20T16:55:00.000-07:00

Is LCD Soundsystem's track listing for This is Happening a poem?

Dance Yrself Clean
Drunk Girls
One Touch
All I WantI Can Change
You Wanted A Hit
Pow Pow
Somebody’s Calling Me
Home

Are you in Seattle right now?
the sky will shit soon, look at how constipated it is.

BLONDIE

2010-04-14T02:14:00.000-07:00

my head is turning into a bush
I lost my beanie for a week and it was the worst week of life thus far
Someone asked me if I have a blog and I felt stupid
my lucky boxers are now my unlucky boxers
I am INFJ and ENJF
(My level of outwardness/inwardness depends on the friends I am with/not with)
so many earthquakes
My perception of you is marked by your simplest actions (I feel like you are evil now)
I listened to GRizzly Bear's "Knife" 43 times today
I met Michael McClure, he taught me some poetry stuff
I saw Animal Collective, Avey Tare waved at me, I felt a bond
Saw Tao Lin and the sun was out that day I laughed a lot
picked up pink pillars from the yard, 35% of my room is now pale pink
my mother knows how to google now
I watched Little Miss Sunshine for maybe the 20th time
I am losing my vocabulary
I want something new
I wish I had the drive to become an astrophysicist
there are genuine people out there somewhere, I don't know many of them
if you ever come to my room
do not take a breath
because I was cremated in this air
that head is like a bush

Waterfall, fall with me for a million days

2010-03-19T01:09:00.000-07:00

i'm telling this to my roommate adam right now too. I've been training myself lately (for 5 years i guess, since i was a moron before that), to be "moved" to all or most forms of innovative, genius, towering forms of music, upon first listens--to experience the ecstasy of the virgin listen--instead of having to force myself to listen to some music that I just think I should like. I think i've reached that point, where I don't need to wait on music anymore, where I have been patient enough already, and I can understand upon first listens. And I don't need to fight through time anymore, I don't have to wait to love a spectacular album, don't have to wait for anything to sink in, don't need ritalin to stay focused, don't need to torrent thousands of songs at once, and never pay any attention to 99% of the songs, don't need to make bullshit rules like "if the first 15 seconds doesnt..."

I think i've "trained" my ears and tastes to the point where I can genuinely love and appreciate the great music that has come before my time. I can understand what music deserves respect, without someone telling me, I can feel it in my bones, i can revel in it. But now I feel like I still don't have enough time to listen to everything i want to listen to you. I want it all now, but i have to work for it, need time need more time. I hope I don't die soon, I'm not ready anymore. But it's easier now, all so much easier, and so fulfilling. It feeds my soul, keeps me from depression or whatever, drives my each day to the next so easily.

Oh my jesus this is an incredible looking cover:

I feel pretty damn retarded that I haven't been listening to Jimi Hendrix enough at this point in my life, that i've only remotely liked a few of his songs. It really gives me a deep pain, my ignorance.

4/11 edit: this post seems stupid or juvenile or something in retrospect. Jimi is cool.

I don't

2010-03-18T15:19:00.000-07:00

i am on the ground
because the ground loves me
like no one else

I see your face on the white ceiling
you're so terribly far away
i can't even touch you when i stand
and besides the ground just whispered to me
"sweetie-pie"
in a terribly sexy tone
I think I'll stay here

I lie supine with a cigarette in mind
it has been a dream of mine
to see the smoke rise before my eyes

now i am smoking this cigarette
because this cigarette always shows me a good time
even though he might kill me someday
but that should be a good time too

I am on the ground with all the
lingering white lines above me
it's almost too much ecstasy to handle
and there you are on the ceiling
he must love you
you must've heard the same melodies
I heard in my ear
i understand now
thank god

I feel changed

2010-03-10T02:10:00.000-08:00

{hey
this is my voice
it hides under depression
I am dishonest by myself, I really am, I don't even know it}

humans I don't trust
I'm sorry, for you and for myself
but I acknowledge
when i am out of body
when I see the world from a cloudless sky
it's all I can do
I am stuck
I was born

In fate we are
trapped, leveled
Dr. Professor whatever forced me to see
Oedipus, Sutpen, Agamemnon, Hamlet
but the end Is whatever
depressing as whatever, what matter
I say, "What is the point if I will never know?"
Jason Wirth told me, "It's about the process!"
and the scythe will always come
but what matter

So I realized,
I can climb mountains
I can fucking climb a mountain!
and that is
and if I was meant to do that
if God ordained me
and said,
this is what you are going to do
I will not complain about my choice
whether I be climbing in the past
or present future, along the Tralfamadorian range
I will climb that mountain

let me enjoy it
let me live to see the road to mexico
to Bolivia
down under the sea
towards Greece, Mongolia
and I will never be lost
I will be

I am young
you say this to me
you my comrade
let us drink for we are golden
in the sun, in the hail
in the hellish vagrant airs
where we see our souls
in each breath
we are golden

listen to my drunken slur
I will trust,
if I give you my words
that this will matter
that you will soon be as drunken as I
and that we will vomit with passion
(the toilet as beautiful as the sink as beautiful as the faucet, as beautiful as the bottle)
for the mountain

( Mountain! mountain! Mountain ! Mountain! mountain!
mountain! Mountain ! Mountain ! mountain! mountain!)

to you, from i

2010-03-08T01:04:00.000-08:00

persons, inspire
create, give
If you ask, I will
If you're lovely, I will
with much reason
you, me

TRends

2010-03-02T00:10:00.000-08:00

Look at what's "trending now" on yahoo
who can i punch in the face for this
I'm gonna punch Alex in the face for this
I hate him
I hate yahoo

I'm scared.
I haven't written a poem that I feel passionate about
in like 12 days.
don't know what the fuck
is happening
I feel stupid and
whatever other stuff too

dear devil,
i'll sell you my soul to write better poetry
(can I write poetry without a soul?)
god wouldn't give it to me, never gave me a deal
and i believe in both of them
fuckers
and I believe in deals
I believe in karma
my obsession is in
calling my mother
and then meeting some hot girls
calling my father
and then receiving a letter of acceptance from caketrain or something
calling my grandmother
and then gaining telekinetic powers
There is balance there is order
so says jesus
he is crucified on my brain tremors
he is at war with nicotine .08 percent etc
they don't know how to be at peace
but I don't want to believe in these things
I would like to believe in myself instead

Matthew Rohrer says:
I'm going to sit here until I feel my soul

in the flowers

2010-02-27T16:10:00.001-08:00

i don't know where my feelings are today
i think i should get married today
or
i will sequester all the serotonin
into this one finger
then i'll find my soul
i'll say hello
and then leave it somewhere in the flowers somewhere somewhere

"to hold you in time
to hold you in time
to hold you in time
to hold you in time"

I embrace the surge of the unreal. lack of feelings disassociates me with the unreal. I am outside myself, interacting with society. I am banished from my inner world. I am whatever

"If I could just leave my body for the night"

I'm doing this thing where i look at myself in the mirror while I write. It is disturbing. I don't understand my reflection. I don't understand how I have a body. I don't understand what I look like.

am i high right now
seems like it

love you

2010-02-23T00:14:00.000-08:00

i'm gonna write a love story or love poem or love prosey shit poem (that is prose enjambed in brown and green font, i think).

I'm trying to come to some great discovery, that i am talented. that i am a genius. i'm trying to shock myself. i'm trying to find a tub of confidence. i'm drinking more often.

the first word of my love prosey shit poem will be:
Love

the first punctuation mark of my love prosey shit poem will be:
,

I'm going to incorporate some lines from John Ashberry's poem Girls on the Run:
"Dream lover, won't you come to me?
Dream lover, won't you be my darling?
It's not too late or too early."

I will get this published some day. mark my words. shut up. shut the hell up. It'll be published, in one form or another, and then i'll be the one laughing at you for doubting me, but it won't matter to you because you won't know me, I'll just be a crazy person laughing deliriously on the street, and you'll be with your husband or wife and you'll mistake me for a bum and chuck coins at me or pretend you're really distracted with something else.

in 2080 i'll surely be dead

2010-02-19T15:39:00.000-08:00

this is by far the best take away show i've seen

Yeasayer

their a capella puts fleet foxes to shame.

"i'm so blessed to have spent the time with my family and the friends i love in my short life i have met so many people i deeply care for"

i don't have a Fbook to tell everyone i don't care about how excited i am

2010-02-16T16:12:00.000-08:00

i'm a loser or something
so why don't you kill me

avant / garde

2010-02-16T01:42:00.000-08:00

i'm gonna get drunk and high tonight and listen to bob dylan and not go to school tomorrow

I'm drunk and high
right now
and listening to
bob dylan and
not
going to school
tomorrow

with mixed emotions (between love and affection),

Peter Walsh

the f word or whatever

2010-02-07T02:12:00.000-08:00

you are so small
and you are hiding inside
spying from a slanted window
hounds are stirring in your heart
but you are so tired
and you will always be tired

Massive outpouring Before death!!

2010-01-28T00:08:00.000-08:00

I LISTEN TO MUSIC THE MOMENT I SLEEP
(The sky is a ghostly black, and I feel like a remnant of the past.)
I LISTEN TO MUSIC THE MOMENT I WAKE UP

#1. Where are all the Poets?

Are there twenty-something year olds out there who have sold their soul to the art? who are constantly careful, crafting their words? with immense aspirations, dreams that breath, that gravitize, I want to meet you, I want to write with you, I want to write to you, I want to get hammered drunk with you, I want to go on the road with you, I want to see your future unfold. I feel lonely and I don't understand myself very well. (help me help you help me help you help me help you help me help you love me love you etc.)

#2. I See All my actions in Third Person (what is that in the mirror)

I have a inner conscious that has split itself into three: the reflective self, the confused stranger, the overseer. Reflective self thinks on behalf of the body, sorts through today's memories, as well as yesterday's and all of the past. He has a lot of folders to deal with and they never stop coming in--he is overworked and subsequently fucks up a lot. Confused stranger looks upon my body, and wonders what this body is thinking about, what the hell is it doing, it looks sad, it looks bored. The overseer tries to bring these previous two together, tries to account for both of their thoughts, and then tries to give me a plan on how I can grow and become wiser, smarter, etc. The overseer is mostly a lazy asshole--he doesn't much give a shit, and so Reflective self and Confused stranger remain at odds.

(eg. I look towards the sky, I see myself looking at the sky, I wonder what that human is doing, I search for a greater meaning, a "why" question and then an answer, and instead I move on with my life, forgetting that this ever happened)

#3. the Thing about God

I make deals with that thing (man? woman? alien? thing). Not because I want to. But because I have to. It will not leave my head (a world without a God? a meaningless existence wherein I don't give a shit about anything, or a world wherein I eventually enter psychosis from eternal illogical computation, or will I just embrace the world...am i doing that now?). So it creepy crawls about my cavernous caboose, I scream at it, and blame everything that I can never understand on it. It sets up balances in my head, says if you do this then I give you this, If you stop doing this then you get this. It plays tricks on me, it sometimes imitates the sound of my own inner voice, so that I cannot tell who is doing the talking. I don't want to talk about this anymore.

#4. My face is Dying

My bed is a grave. I etch-a-sketched dreams in my shoulder with my hands. I woke up with red on my hands, red on my covers. My body has terrible urges--when my conscious leaves, my body is a wolf licking the blood-soaked blade. My shoulder did not have a rash. but there is a rash eating up my face, and my unconscious hand leaps to it like horny teenagers, and i wake up in a sea of skin, and I think (confused stranger thinks), how gross how disgusting, and I store a little bits of frustration in my back pocket as I drag myself through a daily Monday Malaise. People in the world see traces of my demise, traces of my rebirth, my skin regenerating, spreading itself about the earth, and I am lost in transition and scaring away all the pretty girls.

#5. Happiness in Shared experience (being a stingy asshole closes all the doors)

I put shit in my body, I alter my state of existence, and I only want to take a trip with you (you!). You are tender and enchanting--you said something yesterday that really made me think, gave me a new perspective. I don't know you well enough, I haven't made up my mind about you, and so I can't stop thinking about you, I want to grow with you, and want to make something out of this.
I am sitting in my room, and I want to see through your eyes, I want to write about it and show it to you, I want to slaughter the leaden circles of time with the soft murmur of speakers, under ceilings, in this very room where the God of Karma, where the Confounded Stranger has condemned me! I could love this room, it could be like heaven.

#6. the Moon was there then it was Dead

I paid homage to the moon tonight, for Seattle skies rarely accommodate it. I turned off my lights and watched it slime across the sky. It left ugly trails in my head that faded quicker than my cognitive powers could function, and so I will never know what those bad feelings were that tonight's moon awoke.

The moon has left , will I ever see it again?

#7. Make your own way, Son

my step-grandfather wrote me a letter and included a hallmark inspirational quote:

Life itself cannot give you joy, unless you really will it. Life just gives you time and space, it's up to you to fill it

I was repulsed. Words from greeting cards that make a mockery of sincerity, that make profit on manufactured sentimentality! But Herbert is one of the sweetest and most humble grandparent I've ever encountered, and these were his words, these were his words, this was his handwriting, and I am jaded, and I let Karma God reign as king, the fucker, and I need to grab life by the throat because I am young and agile and my thoughts race and fly with my body, with my pumping legs, I careen through sidewalks and fields, up buildings, up mountains, to shout from up high, to shout nonsense, to prove my existence, to prove that I have passion, that I am human. and as the sun is my witness I will take to the street burning under what mother said was heaven, and I will give love, I will give love as best I can, as weirdly as I can, as subtle as I can, as honestly as I can.

#8. Life Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow

Overseer wakes up, and does not know what to do, what to make of anything, doesn't know what decisions he has made, or which he has taken back, so he puts on headphones, and lights up his cigarette.

drool.

2010-01-26T02:27:00.000-08:00

I am lost in education. (on page limit, on length)
I don't know anything about the world,
don't know what the fuck that is,
can't even comprehend what life will be like in 2 hours...

I am hanging dead for six hours:

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant---
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightening to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind---

i "waste" 4 hours like a drunkard.
i want to be looking for the road instead.
where is that lovely beast.

I have a poem on the internet here.

self-destructive; instructive

2010-01-12T23:57:00.000-08:00

"I think you are waiting to self-combust. That way you could start fresh", read the text message, late into my binge. I was looking for beauty all around me. I found it almost everywhere, in everything I had, and everything I did not have.

I knew how the hours would soon run and sigh, would reveal...the truth? the ugliness? Is that the truth?

"I think you are waiting to self-combust. That way you could start fresh", read the text message. I had on my new eyes, my new eyes, old and melting, weary with passion. my heart in my mouth, blossoming like lilies, weeping, soothed by its own utterances, knowing, unknowing..

and my mind, that tragic man in his suit, traitorous and true, left his post to say
and what of tomorrow
and what of tomorrow...?
"I have gathered up my little sticks
to burn this fire, tonight", I retorted,
bold as liquid

now, on the down
i knew, i knew, i chose, of course
I am waiting to self-combust
i will start fresh
not even i will know my name

shanti shanti shanti

success. hip hip hooraguhghauhg..

2010-01-07T00:18:00.000-08:00

i got a poem published in the online lit mag Nth Position right here.

I was pretty excited to see it there. to google myself and find that I have a growing internet presence/worldly significance. of course it did not last.

"You always want more, you're never happy with what you have"- father to kid is never happy with what he has

if you look at the poem, you'll see that I've fucked up all the punctuation and capitalization. It wasn't on purpose, but it wasn't on accident either. I was given an opportunity to edit it, but I didn't really care enough to change anything. I feel like it doesn't really matter. I feel like the meaning (whatever that is) is just as accessible (or inaccessible) with or without the small changes i would make if i was more OCD about grammar. Maybe I will feel differently once I actually have a "reputation".

oh, how each lamp adds light to light!

2010-01-05T22:41:00.000-08:00

I'm tiring of this room.
i'm stuffing bad emotions in that lamp in the corner
i move it, that shade reminds me of
when i lost my mind
[my tears separated from my mind
my body convulsed, hurling chunks of my mind
my mind my mind was supine
it suspended itself, left my body
in cornflowers marred in ivory
i saw wavered,
i laughed
i cried
my mind
set me loose]

gracious lamp field hide me
the hipsters have all run away
they paint you, and your scarlet hues
fleeing vagabond avant garde
decadence burning burning burning their heels
to the mountains! if you have your beards about you
relevance is genetic,

you and me we are apart
and i am a part
you, the subterranean alien
to the light, to the...
what path? where is the path?

I will take the dimly glowing blue light
fluorescent, subtle sanity lacking sanity

my last lamp:
sideways upon the wall,
you are my dearest
and most feared enemy
you wait like a wolf upon my dreams
and no man has ever seen you
and no man ever will

Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

the lights the lights will not lead me on my way
fiction, grab hold friction
faction misleading, fiction
truth: i am falling much farther into a den of lions
got on a pair of lucky boxers i think will do the trick

oh how each lamp adds light to light

close to my heart

2009-12-26T01:54:00.000-08:00

start an artist circle
do plenty o' drugs
sequester failures in others
never speak again

the softest of blankets

2009-12-21T15:38:00.000-08:00

When the last of our carbon emissions has reached the earth's atmosphere, and all that, won't our end look beautiful from outer space? Nature will cover us, will bring us home, 2012, 2020, 2050. I'm thinking that everything sad is beautiful or hilarious from far away ///////
////////////////////
////////////////////
////////////////////
////////////////////

mad mad hawaii

2009-12-14T20:44:00.000-08:00

hawaii is stagnant
more so than ever
more putrid with each visit
the people
the lazy fuckers
all the same walkers, talkers
all the same experience, the life I knew for 8 years
or whatever
I can't stop looking down
I'm wiser than all those wrinkled fuckers
wading in the water wading in the humid air
god help me

those beautiful mountains
They live apart from anything I would ever do
A subtle brain cleansing
make us lie down, make us breath
in the gathering clouds upending the skies
god i'll puke all over this land

I have nothing to say about this place
Hawaii it takes all my words
takes all my voices, all my hands
{I need a facebook again, I need a game to eat up my life, I don't want to see my downfall, I want to die in ignorance if I die on these green pastures, amongst the cow, from where, amongst the hibiscus, amongst plumeria, amongst methed out polynesians grabbing desperately, drowning in their own land, independence, independence, you dumb foolish fuckers, you see the oceans but you cannot see the stars}

can't live without expression
it carves me out, makes me irritable
Give me a computer game please
I don't want to see my death

my old television was haunted, but my new one is HD

2009-12-07T01:43:00.000-08:00

This is Kyle. This is Kyle in front of our single-multi-media system. After watching hours of static and blinking cursors, we watched Waking Life, Dune, Coraline, videos of Reggie Watts, and Fear and Loathing simultaneously. We don't do any drugs ever, we've never done any o' that shit we always play it safe, and that bottle in the picture is a fat bottle of apple cider and we are all about 32 years old in this house and rated R movies are iffy because they have suggestive material in it that's why it's rated "restricted" and society knows whats best and society knows whats up and I am really enjoying that song up! by M83.

Also, I really enjoy this website: http://youfellasleepwatchingadvd.com/

Facebook

2009-12-03T00:17:00.000-08:00

deleted my facebook after a month of fasting from it. finally free. now I might have to blog forever. or i may want to "free" myself from this as well. Then what else can I free myself from...?

I am in the heaven that comes after internet. there is heaven, yes. well, actually i'm not sure if this is heaven. it could be hell. but either way, it's happier than facebook (earth!!).

how did i do it? how did i kill myself (internetally)? I did it with a quickened heartbeat. with a few farewell posts. with a couple conversation enders. I did it with an unplanned conversation and encouragement from a friend ("hey watch this, I'm gonna kill myself", he gave me a farewell post, how thoughtful). I did it with a farewell status ("Im gonna kill you, facebook, chase I'm proud of you" chase is a friend, whose steps towards death I have followed). I did it with a wry smile to kyle sitting next to me. Feels good. Nirvana for the technological generation. {[(is this 1/34 of the taste of what it would be like to actually off myself)]}

when are you going to kill yourself?

today's date

2009-11-27T02:08:00.001-08:00

while I'm alive
I don't feel alive

what's next?
I guess I'll know when I've gotten there

This is why I will hate the 21st century

2009-11-24T19:03:00.000-08:00

ellipsis

2009-11-23T01:47:00.001-08:00

dear self,
you're not interesting enough tonight
go to bed

drunk on the great gatsby

2009-11-22T00:43:00.000-08:00

no, I'm actually just a little tipsy
trying to write a paper about the Great Gatsby
and trying not to think about....stufff
you know?
you know?
it's sort of difficult

my mind still kind of feels like vomming, but notsomuchasanhourago.

ps, Fuck Blogs

overall interesting day, considering

2009-11-21T23:24:00.000-08:00

SENSORY OVERLOAD
blockade these thoughts
leave them in the desert

beat to beat
feels like a heart in the speakers
a conduit for feeling

drunk drunk drunk
6 shots, 9 shots echoing
in the alleys
Another beat! someone
pounding my head,
hounding my doors.

veiny fleshy martian
dragging himself upon my steps
I don't need to feel sorry without you
and I won't let you in until I get a call!
We're both waiting for it!

heart, heart, heart,
you sneak in the back room
when I am asleep and drooling
In the dark, I walk
back and forth to your beats
back and forth
back and forth to your beats
back and forth
back and forth to your beats
back and forth to your beats

I don't feel good now. my body feels okay, but not my mind. it feels nauseous, like it's gonna vomit. brain vomit out my eyes. my mind is gonna vomit. brain vom. I'm gonna vom. my brain's gonna vom.

I need to bury my heart

2009-11-09T03:15:00.000-08:00

I feel you in the other room
you hold me tight in the wormhole

Chat Groups, wild things

2009-10-15T01:49:00.000-07:00

hey nether region of my life.

I remember when we were somewhat close. but honestly, I always kept my distance. don't feel hurt.

I am starting a writer's group at my humble abode in seattle. That for some reason made me think of also making a chat group, where random people meet bi-weekly, or something like that, in order to "chat", and improve their "chatting" skills.

eg. "I don't like the way you used that typo/I like the way you used that typo. It made your point hard to understand/it got your point across well. You chat poorly/you chat well."

sadly, internet personas that do not link to a tangible person are often horrid and pretentious. I feel that I would not enjoy a chat with someone who I did not know because they would always have this mysterious quality about them. I feel like this is the same mystery and unpredictable quality that makes the monsters in Where the Wild Things Are so scary. the reader never knows what the monsters intentions are for max, and while they appear to care for him at some points, the next moment they are saying that they'll "eat him up".

The Internet Is Where the Wild Things Are.

Ennui! Ennui! Ennui!

2009-09-09T02:53:00.000-07:00

starving in the sea of bliss.

(Bliss is to be past restlessness, past boredom. To be dulled, and then freed of emotion)

starving in a sea of quick metabolism, starving in lack of cup noodles.

free to be in this moment

shackled by thoughts of the future

shackled by dreams

starving

starving from boredom

curious when boredom will outweigh metabolism

rid of the I

shackled by the eyes

wordplay with shelved toys

shackling my I's

starving in the cup of noodles

Phalanges out to google

Phalanges out to eyes

to bodies

to minds

starving for a beat

wrestle a head to this chest

a thumpin's nota coming!

Relatability

2009-07-15T01:36:00.000-07:00

hello random person on the web:

can you relate to this?

wahbahwaaahbaha wbabh wah babahahahaha!! WAHHHAHAH BAAAAAAAAa

(the tone is not laughter, though it can be rightly mistaken as such)

if so, make me famous with whatever powers you command.

goodbye with some love,

Me

Snail Mail, what friendly snails!

2009-06-28T23:33:00.000-07:00

I want honest correspondence with you.

you think i want to have sex with you.

I think I probably don't want to correspond with you.

you probably won't call me very much anymore.

did humans fuck everything up?

2009-06-25T20:28:00.001-07:00

tonight you should

if you are in a small town, neighborhood

notice the night.

How can the night be so quiet?

I wonder if this is how God intended the world to be

the heart, goes up in smoke

2009-06-22T03:31:00.000-07:00

the heart is cloudy, and I am hot and dry

the tip of rain’s tongue

longing lolling

into withered chords

from plants packed up in sticks

synthesized
like nylon
we are

manufactured

Carina. 300 Light Years

2009-06-21T04:41:00.000-07:00

This is a small section of the Carina Nebula (NGC 3372). A dust pillar. The birthing of a star.

captain's log: year twenty o nine

2009-06-19T02:22:00.000-07:00

this is the second year anniversary of the day our ship went astray. Moral among the crew is nothing. Moral is a vague reminiscence of a dream.

Though, on the upside, the tension that was brewing among everyone from prolonged flight has ceased. They have given up on ever reaching our destination...which was somewhere none can remember.

It does not matter now--the path before us is among these uncharted stars. Who knew that what was unknown was so spectacularly empty.

Recently decided to shut down all engines and hopeless navigational equipment. We will float on, to where we will float to, and destiny will be our map.

I am still tired, unlike the crew, who have given up on any such feelings. I want to say to my crew members, "farewell. I will never see you again". and I want to mean, but our ship will not ground, and solo escape missions are out of the question. We have always been on an escape mission, this entire journey, one long escape

There is a man on board, who I have never seen before, but I somehow know that he has always been here. He says to me, "you are sad because you have no cheesecake", as if he is trying to convince me of something. I see him when I frequent the observation deck, where I used to marvel at the passing stars and planets. That was when this ship had a set course. Now I don't know what to do with that wondrous sight. I don't know what to feel.

If you come across this message, I feel it is because you are lost as well, and I wish you the best of luck. We will float on.

------

oh sweet nothing. II

2009-06-16T03:08:00.000-07:00

tired holding
rolling eyes
my brain sequence
slips to
word association
every story I tell
has to do with drugs
It's as old as 1938
when LSD was born
and I was not

oh sweet nothing.

2009-06-16T02:37:00.000-07:00

should i drop out of college?

late hours

2009-06-12T02:35:00.000-07:00

procrastination is a kids tale...

a Letter

2009-06-10T01:33:00.000-07:00

June 10, 2009
Dear Kelly,

I’m sad for every person I meet.
And I hate the rest who I cannot find sadness for.

I can write more honestly out of craziness
because that is when everything streams forth.
that’s when I am not hindered by my conscious—
because it scurries away like a defeated bully in the school yard.

All the days that I am a scared little boy
struggling under the conscious of a universe,
I speak only lies.

There are people who I have marked
because I want to have conversations with them, in a quest to learn more about life.
Or at least, I think that is the reason—for life.
many people are afraid to know other people,
or they just don’t want to know anyone, not even themselves.
these people only want to know the facts,
or anything tangible,
And that is the most foolish thing I have ever witnessed.
and this makes me weep.

I am sad for every person
because people are going blind, people who have life in them
they are being shitted on.
and our best friends, who are not human, but who have always been with us, their time has come, while the rest of us are forced to linger.
things end
because they were once beautiful.

I sent my words to a girl, once—or twice
and she soaked up the beauty from everyone around her.
and with that beauty, she soaked up my words,
and I never heard from them again.

Cheers,

Me

control

2009-06-09T02:16:00.001-07:00

there is only one star in the sky
what does that mean
it means that there is too much light pollution

I will miss everything everywhere

2009-06-04T23:24:00.000-07:00

i am drugged up
and removed from "happiness"
but it is only feet away
so i need not reach for it

not inspired

2009-06-03T01:08:00.001-07:00

I am not inspired. I am robotic.
emotion means nothing, really.
But I am angry about that.
I show anger.
I will not be complacent.
motherfucker.
tune to the tube.
my dreams are smoke.