Drink and spoil the senses with increased frenzy. An enhanced livelihood in the pockets of the rich. Get a stamp at the front. A red sun, red rum, red rum. RUN. Antlers of a deer head extend out into AK-47's pointed at either front corner of the bar. Dark masses moving, Jack the Ripper and also those who did not dress up for any Halloween activity for the first time in their life. The festivities begin and end tonight. In order to keep position fucking secretary secretly at work. Follow your heart and you can achieve anything. Then again last night counts. Spit-shined Hollywood mischief. Pissing in the stairways of a mall and sliding much too quickly down filthy hand rails to guide those with sore or dysfunctional legs to reach the bottom unscathed. Bright lights outside. Dark atmosphere inside. The reverse of what a night should be. Sun shining wildly but the party remains inside with all the blinds closed. Candlelight flickering. No sense of space or time. The party can continue. No hidden planets behind that sun to crush us into ruin. None yet anyway.
Vomit blood in burger joint. Not I. Picking up ice cubes by hand in senseless precision. Singing a harmony to a Beatles song on the radio. Acting rude at a table and making a fuss about nothing in particular. Just an accidental lapse of motive and logical reasoning took over, also with no desire to cause a scene of unnecessary stupidity, Though that attention gained would have been lovely. Beer soaked sheets and the night bending head screaming out pressure and infidelity. 6.0% ALC PER VOL.
"I've been trading ideas with intriguing men."
Deciding to sell things. Kept in mint condition, hiding in that garage. Rather than bringing me more. I'd sell it all and then wonder later why I had to sell it all with a pang of guilt. But this is for the best. The cleansing. Less connections with a past and no reason to live way beyond my own personal means. It would also be a proactive way for me to save up some cash. Everything is dollar signs. In the eyes of everyone on the Sunset Strip. All of the bright entertainment and the yelling hordes of ruffians. No cop car flipping. Just one man getting arrested and a ton of people watching with bystander syndrome. I became one of them for a moment. I watched an interesting piece of society. Not from here apparently. Run the wrong way and kill all investors by morning the stacks will be burned to the ground in delicate procedure. No word from that women I must have been thinking about based on some actions after the concert. A random 'fuck yes' in the face of critical inquiry. They all laugh, sinister, in their small boxes. The cages they carry around their bodies like the atmosphere of a planet. Empty inside the head and the heart. No need to rekindle a dead fire with only charred wood remaining in the pit. Extinguished and misleading. I already apologized for stupidity and lack of concrete scheduling. But I just have to lapse into a familiar insanity every now and then or else my life feels off balance and meaningless. I need to be in control of it all and fill all blank spaces with incredible forthright messages. Fill your eyes with beauty. Warm the blood and weigh down the eye lids with savory satisfaction. Call the shots, god. Send rain and lightning from your fingertips, sobbing.
Is it fate? At least an interesting idea to believe in such a missed connection as a mutual feeling of intimacy between two strangers. Some personalities have to just click. I imagine, nowadays, that feeling of incredible mutual curiosity and comfort, an instant deep connection between potentially kindred souls, must happen rather often. At least the train of thought overlaps some nights. She feels a tug at the heartstrings like fingers plucking a harp on one side of the world. He feels a similar shock of memory renewal. He remembers a beautiful happy girl and finds himself wondering if at the same time she is feeling that same grand connection. It has to overlap at some point. Something magical in that prospect even if it happens constantly over a lifetime. So many millions of people that could be extremely important and influential. In a different life, they say. Not in a million years, they say. Missed connections over the world making so many wonder what it could have been for them. What would be different, anything? Just another mislead idea of the perfect situation. Replaced by other perceived perfection later. A series of electric lift-offs and devastating come-downs. Failed missions into that euphoric layer of atmosphere. Atmosphere. Just breathe it all in and taste the decay. Despite success in the future as well as past for the living out of perfect moments there always seems to be a way to think up something dreamier. Something closer to the ideal. Something approaching perfection and beauty and eternity. How to reach it in the present! Always seems to be a realization about a past moment. "Wow that really was fucking perfect. What the hell was I worried about?"
The dinner and movies. Music and books. Art and sex. Messed up hair and late mornings. Yawning, rolling over and feeling so overwhelmed by that lazy perfection never to be found again but so quick and naive to discredit any notion of that. Be happy as hell. There is one life, now. It is a one shot deal and grasping the essence of every moment cannot be too hard. It must be a goal reachable within the span of my life. I will find that perfection. That balance between the powers of good and evil. Time well spent both working hard and pleasurably idle. A static balance but with full life and happy heart.
--------------------
Saw you naked in the moonlight.
So primitive in this modern climate.
Bathe in that luminescent darkness, lay back on a low hill.
Your skin has a radiation glow to it,
something to put out chemical fires.
When we gather our hearts for the furnace.
Bask in joyful moon-glow.
Dance in fields of flowers.
Dream big for small places.
Everyone must become present.
Drop-shadow hinges
throw away the silver key
doors of perception
every angle different
from you own
Operating under strange influences
random compulsive behavior
on a saturday somewhere
burying a time capsule in the back yard
remembered for two hundred centuries
if anyone digs for it
more likely no one does
it gets destroyed in careless renovation
to make way for new superhighway
re-imagine history with greater humor
less sadness
no melancholy
unless the jolting kind
the kind that makes your senses perk up
a clear awareness of situation
in simple terms
so beautiful and profound
a new clarity for true nature of things
no longer tunnel vision
soon shackled and bound
back to the world of hate and greed
lead by derision
moonlight lulls her into a trance
a dreamlike state where time-travel is possible
in all directions
meditative and calm
natural and gorgeous
never buries her head in her hands
such revelatory statements
churning through that brain
remembers his name
enticed by the fame
chances present and prevent
full interaction never possible
it is a constant list of regretful inaction
intermixed with guilt caused by a negative action
burning through mounds of earth
frozen to conserve vital organs
living and breathing
with a treasure map to wake up to
in thousand years
hoping the world is still here
somehow fate could tie them together
holding hands in a huddle
an the end of the earth
and life as we know it
beautiful stranger
headed elsewhere
no remorse
could be worse
never run into her
or let thoughts free
imagination burning
feverish highs
and callous lows
wishing it could all continue without difficulty
hoping for a hand to hold when it collapses
