may 31

wake up with me and fill my lungs with clean air
I am a deflating tire waiting beneath a car for the green light
walking through confusing and ambiguous dreams
who would want to die and remain forever there

hold me close and define my senseless jargon as something greater

I am the sum of my things

I am a fire to consume it all. money burning on trees.

I am the liar who has more boxes of t shirts than a human needs in order to exist on the earth here. downsize. let it go. this is once. not everything is necessary. did i get enjoyment out of the object briefly? can I look forward to future enjoyment or is it obsolete?

beautiful divine fields

these are found between two open human souls. open fully to new experience and crazily anticipating sobriety and the lack of drinking due to supposed and intense sobriety but the writing process through the drinking has held together that psyche moreso than most other degenerates... as most fall into hiding.

let's communicate in sexual rhythm. watch the sunrise because of our late and crazy night ending such early hours in the morning. the morning of a move! what insanity. the last chance to longboard fully back without committing 30 minutes of balance on jagged roads. oh woe is memory. oh to new beginnings and people making us feel idiotic for our closed off states in lairs of misunderstood hues of strategy. without smoking and anxiety attacks and the feeling of neutral and calm, the awr within, and the respect for all other types increases...

I wish I were not alone in greating this wild day. This work day and the sun was an orange orb in the sky, east of the 101

May 31

Deflate this air mattress with the weight of my dreams . Quote unquote. Watch the sky rise up through dreary morning mists And all feeling of coffee cup daylight in the midst of dreary mist writing like an act of feelings worshiped and regurgitated opinion, a vessel of life rather than a life vessel, with coins on out dead eyes we devolve unceremoniously into animals less developed. Flight reaction with beer tabs involved, a selection of craft beer with the more evolutionary and the terrible feedback with fantastic appraisal post show with a recording of our own show emailed home into our standard wombs. Sky turns in between shades of blue and grey, feeling stupid and reckless enough to write beautiful music and laugh playfully at the idea of waking up so early and testing the body for full endurance but the body must encounter a lot in order to fully accept bounty for compensation. Did they pay you anything? Expect nothing. Play to pay for beer and make it all seem worth it with bills to pay and negative effects of depressing sets with band lonely money stolen and everything. Moving four words. Sky is a lighter shade of grey. In between everything 

excerpt

Lately I’ve been dreaming of rollercoasters and fireworks. Works of art by insane architects, the spines of books burning in mornings glorious. Dreams of velocity and the golden cities of old become new here and now.

Yesterday

Morning glory. Coffee. Black. Woke up at an alarming rate. Bagel with ham and egg. Bob Hope airport. Shuffle all songs. Turn back to listen to a few album cuts. Turn down to speak of education and environmental concerns to weigh in on. We are in agreement. Hugo's Tacos. Perfect timing on used quarters to race against sharks. Malibu Canyon passed Pepperdine. Skip Malibu Lagoon for clearer parking. Move to Topanga Beach for a tan and the meditative calm of a crashing sea. Helicopter lands and takes off again. Low flying billboards. Our skin turns red and we walk along the nice ruins of our mutual respect once burning higher than skyscrapers. Houses on hills. Moon Juice. Perpetuated a healthy mindset for the time being. Fender Roads keyboard and a shoeless jazz jam session. Ping pong. Drum circle. Natural food. Music festival. Delicate drumming as intricate as madness. Return to studio. Wash salt from face and hair. Laurel Canyon to Hollywood. Wander Sunset. House of Blues restaurant. Power outlet. Music piercing through crowds. Let us move our shit through by bumping into people and spilling drinks and they think we are rude for this. Play show and the drums overpowered. Ears shattered. Brains exploded. We left exhausted. Dance party downstairs. Tired dreariness to end.

distracted youth

miles away from contemporary communication, lost in thoughts that cannot be communicated in any grand detail or efficiency. We lose track of space and time and ride a current that is sometimes indistinct. It pushes us away from who we were. It pulls us toward who will be. The speed and direction are determined primarily by lucky breaks. Loopholes in the fabric of time. The space-time wool knit sweaters. Only worn by astronauts, the grandsons of global explorers. Traverse into new lands for life in the soil. Life that lasts eternally on its own. Preserves that could use less human activity inside to maintain on a natural scale.

We are letting ourselves fall victim to this current, this movement beneath our feet. We allow our societal speed dictate a portion of overall velocity. Mostly the current speed is one hinged upon sheer lucky and motivation to continue forward at a decent stride. No longer a frozen stride.

may 21

Take close up pictures of my face when I'm sleeping and tell me I could be a jazz musician in clubs with my highly talented friends whom I often jam with in dark corners of alleyways, we all dream of these wild clubs with booze filtering through holes in the ceiling and only blissful intoxication pervading every attendee's features, making them all glow like phosphorescent angels descending spiral staircases from the clouds, only blissful intoxication and not the kind that leaves us regretful and hating of most things, our bodies torn up from the inside in these caves we wake up in often enough to call home, however temporary, then the godless dancers in uniform crash the party and enforce warped justice to the screaming eulogy of a first class jazz extravaganza. The clothes disappear like we've all got x-ray goggles to use for nefarious purposes. how is public speaking in a nudist colony? does anyone get uncomfortable in their own skin when they remove the masks and make amends on torn page at a time, the typewriter as an old invention to reuse and live inside once more, all my best friends are creative motherfuckers, it takes a lot of interesting conversation and bright lights, glorious, to make them sated and content with it all, the grand crystal ball scheme of this whole facade, we are flakes of white powder in a snow globe, constantly shaken up, we'll never settled at the bottom with the rest of them, rather live on top of the buildings, the glare of the glass keeping our eyes sealed shut, but behind the dumpsters in major cities there are warriors of great strength of heart in mindful ways living beneath cardboard and without the stigma and the potential loss of rights from without.

may 20th

Did I even live yesterday? My stomach burned angrily, having had to deal with an overdose of legal poison. I was in and out of consciousness, embedding jazz on to my synapses and reading about Sudanese refugees. I felt my body quivering when I woke up. I had been shivering in the night. Something close in description to delirium tremens through the afternoon. I was foolish and my memory is clouded with idiotic passages of time and conversation with the DJ and bartender. I met so many smiling faces. They were happy that mine was in their midst, acting like I know everyone. Introducing myself and making jokes about the true situation of my presence. I rent that room. You are partying in my front yard. Open bar and a creative bartender caused a sunday headache. Also, the kidnapping of my phone and the deletion of messages and people. The creepy taking of pictures and the ignoring of best wishes and intent. It's cool. I move soon. No lasting harm done. I met the parents of girlfriends of kids of my land lord. I made it work. I laughed and made jokes. They convinced me to eat and to make connection. They urged me to be social but I couldn't do much until everyone let Debbie get them drunk. Big lapse where the night ended. I'm not sure. No idea in fact. I probably passed out outside and nearly fell in the pool. The floating candles did not work very long. They all grouped together by the end of the night, as if the yard was slanted. The basketball court was a dance floor. Yellow and green banners on everything. I assume these were the colors of the future team the son will couch. Free food. Beer and tequila shots. Mixed drinks. I felt taken advantage of in the morning. My privacy had been invaded. My memory lost but overtly harmless. Just rude messages sent and erased. Conversations read. Pictures forwarded. Not too bad. There has been worse. Drinking so heavily after supposed detox, I am ashamed. But that's probably why it happened, I hadn't had a sip in a while. Felt drunk after first beer. Sat on the diving board and had a nice conversation with and old friend. Talked to tall basketball couches about James Taylor. Sports psychology. Jazz and music. Living this musical dream.

That was a blur.


That was a blue.


Friday was one of the greatest days of my life. I have not recounted quite yet.


Saturday/Sunday were as fun as they were wasteful. Sometimes you need to depart from normal consciousness. It's only healthy to go crazy. I hate blacking out but this is so rare it's interesting to try to piece a few hours together.

Weird brain tricks out of memories. Nothing special probably. But the appeal of some insanity is there. I'll never know what happened.

may 17

Stability is rooted in constant anticipation. With nothing obvious to look forward to, one tends to look back and become destroyed by the acknowledgement of the passage of time. There is a window for self-appraisal at the end of a day. If it is all toxic and negative then this period will include regret, a sense of having lost something beautiful and special. If it is positive and healthy then this time will be more loving and content with the unpredictable events of the day. It is the difference between seeing darkness or light in your immediate past. This morning so far. Could have helped move tables for a party I was invited to outside of my room. I did not move. This is not a regret. This is acknowledgement of a missed opportunity for human connection but nothing more. No resentment grows in my decision to remain horizontal.

One must look back every now and then to discover who they are, how they react to random stimulus, and trends that have formed. If one can predict a disaster by assessing the past, this is not a bad thing. Too much focus looking behind will lead to a major lack in presence and the anticipation for the future will be weighed down by idiot regret.

Look forward to something... To kissing the hair of the woman you love. To playing music with friends. To waking up in a new apartment. Anything. The smallest plan for the future can cause riveting excitement. It does not have to be huge. It is all life experience on this wild ride. This is a journey and everything fills your cup. Everything fits even as the information sloshes around and your brain bakes in the sun. It is all there. We are all here.

This life is something to look forward to.

As a rule, do not allow yourself to look forward to superficial goals... such as winning the lottery. This is not realistic in any sense. You are better than that to believe in such trivial things.

As long as you do not buy into any group anticipation for a stupid and media/marketing based event in our dumb consumer economy... You will be fine. Do not let a television premiere dictate your mood. Ever.

"If you've lost your bubble machine, check under the couch"

Blue lobster
genetic disorder
rare condition
seafood restaurant
does not exist
unless there are many
write it out of the
history books
in the hands of
uninformed people
tearing apart facts
for personal gain
and speaking the mind
of social conditioned
fetuses
frying brains
and insane whims
decondition yourself
and fall apart at the seams
gracefully
like lotus flowers
blossoming
or like blue lobsters
thriving and self identified....

  * * * * * * * *


I only have unlucky numbers. When I squint in the sun, people think I'm smiling at them so they smile and wave back. The more irritable ask, "Do I know you?" "Not very well... we just met," I reply. Some wear shiny diamonds and metallic things that sparkle more than the glint in their eyes. Some people smell like burning sulfur when they pass. It is reminiscent of the smell of bonfires when an asshole throws something plastic in the fire. We used to drink beer around fires in the backyards of our parents house. To hide the evidence we would melt the cans. We breathed in those toxins so blissfully unaware of the effects. To be unaware is to be blissful, always.

I only speak in code. There is no codex. I am a maze with no outlet and we speak clearly in convoluted bursts of words. How clarity shines through this dark mass of syllables! What censure! What enlightened motifs! These notes all bend together in glorious phrases, like angelic prose in prosaic poise. Now we are getting somewhere, he thinks to himself. Hidden in merciful shadow from the glare of the sun. Now the smiles are sent and realistic. They are not the squint eyed smile of doctors or scientists through microscope. There is abundant life on micro levels all around.

We are so unaware.

may 13

I'm lost in translation. There are a mass of syllables that we combine differently, with disparate cadence. These dreams are latent. The head aches earlier than normal. I'm feeling violent and sad. The walls sweat with 100 degree heat. Juxtapose. Posse. Unbridled.

Head fell short.

underneath the maroon ceiling, dreaming of sicily

wishing to god that I could quickly travel vast distances and see a globe of dissonant cultures. I want to expand my numb skull and fill in the blanks with images of traditions that are non-traditional to me. I wish to soak in the rays of sun in Bermuda and feel them to be truly different than the failed melting pot of Southern California, where the sun becomes offensive and abrasive during a handful of months midsummer. There will be no night's dreams. There will be no Shakespeare references.

across the street from where this current journey began... this is the place I had all of my things gathering in a rented car. we drove through the desert and ended up here. hotter than hell. I look at the place I stayed for a single night. I feel myself smiling back in the past. I was happy to be involving myself in something I didn't know anything about. A new experience. Something fucking wild.

Now that it is repetition. I need to move. I need other cultures. I need foreign cuisine in a foreign setting. I need to avoid chain restaurants. I need a fresh breeze from a direction I've never felt.

Deep exploration. Not the frustrating L.A. heat. I need cold weather and warm bodies. I need beards and flannel. What do those John Lennon glasses see?

Where do I go?

Where on earth should I go?

There are wonderful places to explore here. Now. Find them. Get everything out of this warped valley. Get everything out of it. Sap it.

Find the freelance jobs. Find the music lessons. Give me one, I give you one. Teach yourself theory. The theory of everything. Fall in love with the music. Exist truthfully and in eminent satisfaction. Never let the sun go down inside your heart. Never resign to a typical life.

may 12

I'm already sick of this heat. The stench rises up when people melt into the concrete. Their shadows are white wisps of clouds in the open air. Days like this go by in denial. Global warming? Who needs it. It's much more comfortable for you to deny everything that makes you feel bad. You want to feel good and ignore logic. You don't want to be aware of where your food comes from. You want to deny foreign cuisine if they do not have a chain restaurant. You conformist. You war monger. You deny the death count and say some hollow, regurgitated speech about oil... about weapons of mass destruction. Live in a bubble of intoxication in one form or another. Deny the development of culture and stay indoors, by god. You believe that the crowd is always right. Popular opinion is always the opinion to adapt to.

You're sick. You're infected with a lethal virus of denial and it spreads through the sky like airborne illness. How can you live on this earth with such little concern for it? How can you justify your actions based on glowing television screens and books you've heard about?

Fuck

May 9th

He thought he had lost the spark completely; the competitive edge as ambition jogs forward. The spark became obscured by fragrant clouds of smoke, by sunsets and rises through crowded forests. He nearly wept with joy. His distractions had lead him into dark places. Places without substance, direction, concrete results, or exponential progress. He plateaued here, alone in all of his power. He nearly wept with joy that the spark remained. His eyes open to the burning glare of metallic surfaces and buildings scraping the sky like fingernails on chalkboard. Scratch scratch scratch. There is an itch he attempts to reach, on the roof of his mouth, in furious dedication. Ignore it, I want to say. You will only make it worse. Instead of delving deep into the dredges of existence; into the dark alleyways that define your past but not you in the present. You dove into these places without a safety line. All over analysis leading to personal paralysis. He is a fool to believe himself inadequate.

These thoughts were awfully harmless to his well being. Aware of this now, he self medicates with intelligent conversation and the words of his favorite authors. He self medicates with guided meditation in quiet, natural settings. He fixates his gaze inward in a healthy manner. Curious what secrets hide beneath the surface of his own skin and the intangible details tangled up in that head become clear with these rapturous moments of beautiful realization... Looking into yourself with negativity hurts your guts. They respond poorly to ridicule and perform worse than before, self-conscious that the mind is judging the secretions and palpitations harsh and unforgiving.

Look into yourself like a cave explorer wide eyed with affection and wonder. This is my decaying body and I must face my mortality one day, but for now I am so damn curious what this thing can do. The bones are capable of holding so much weight. You can survive war. Heartbreak. You are invincible. Feelings of inadequacy are so senseless. Feeling that every action is senseless is equally self defeating. We are all alive at the same time and I want to grow with you. Never again feel incapable. Never.

You can always do anything. The boundaries are mere physics; not psychology. Introspect gracefully. Love your greatest flaws. Have conversations with yourself about the boundaries of your body. What does the chair feel like on your lower back? Are you slouching to the extent of future back problems? Fuck it, you need to say. Fuck back problems. They are inbound and I will survive. I'll have friends who had made healthier decisions regarding back and spinal health, chiropractors mostly, to help me lift objects without falling to the fall and writhing in pain that could be avoided if I just sat up...

*pause to fix posture*

Now, now, now, right now. This is the time to fall in love with life and evident beauty of all things. The hate and the blood are unavoidable. You cannot correct horror entirely. Small scale wars against the evil of man are enough. You are a unique perspective and no one will ever have the same connections through your synapses as you. Isn't that wonderful?

Your reactions are important. You can change your mind and decide that happiness is not dependent on an absence of logic. If the state of happiness is a decision it is not synonymous with brain damage or stagnant idiocy. You can be happily aware of all evil. You can step away from car fires and orphaned children, with tears in your eyes, happy that empathy exists in your heart. You must be a poet with artistic sensibilities to be able to cry like that.

Now be off. Conquer the world with your silver tongue and strong hands. Destroy superficiality. Dig deeper than mariana's trench. You are not a cadaver. This is the land of dreams and you are incredibly gifted to be able to exist so freely.

Enjoy all of your senses.

May 7th

This time I will let the thoughts breathe. Blissful silence will separate every syllable. At night I dream in my natural silver tongue. English, clearly.

Too much space and distraction occurs. We have the time frame to destroy grammar and lose all clarity. I've already driven off course beyond a fixable distance. No maps could redirect me home. I'm sorry, fellas. This is all I know.


------------------------------------

Last night, I allowed myself to be crushed under the influence, of gravity.
I opened my chest and soaked my heart in chilled whiskey.
and I let ice cubes melt in my veins
lower the temperature of these fever dreams
broaden the temperament of those crazy scenes
the people lost themselves with me
and made horrible noises as they
dealt wildly with their own mortality
I moved from the floor back onto a barstool
and ordered another round
one on the rocks for every sorry soul
in the room
I give a silent toast to my reflection in the line of bottles

------------------

Let the chemicals ruin my artistic abilities, find happiness in the sovereign words and the mysterious places that strangers hold in their minds forever with high esteem. where are these places and how can I get there safely with my two feet? 

12:13 -

He was a saint when it came to joint-rolling. The process excited him and he desired to share his gift, his talent. The station was set up there in the open and a blind faith in strangers became evident. The thinking being no one would steal what is already openly shared. Joints rolled and passed out. Animal Collective and the Beach Boys on vinyl in the background. Classic movie posters hang on all walls. The joints and the five bedrooms. They smoke music and write great harmonious pot. "Smoking out of a pipe is so unceremonious," is what the man said. He explained that in order to fully appreciate and take pleasure out of smoking (rather than sniveling in a ditch with a dirty pipe, hands shaking) one must anticipate the blissful release of that first exhale.. One must be patient in the presence of the joint roller, who considers it a perfected art to execute the architectural design of a spliff in the presence of loud music and crazy antics, it is a place of worship, a moment of zen in the face of sheer terror and absurdity. Everyone gets more comfortable while awaiting that blissful release. It is something more tantric especially for those who depend on the intoxicating effects of THC in order to survive a day. This life is crazy. We all need something. Some people need the self-assurance that they do need anything to get through. Some people like the self confidence and their own personal decision making abilities. Some people are boring.


----

Fire, fire, fire. We swept ourselves off of our feet and fell headfirst into fish tanks. We quickly evolved gills on our throats and joined the bloated goldfish floating cross-eyed at the frothy top like a poorly poured beer. The fish were wearing scuba tanks on their backs. We swam gracefully, singing like deep ocean whales in love. I wonder what it would be like to be the biggest animal on earth... completely misunderstood.



********

Mechanical noises and groovy beats. An hour out. Wearing sunglasses on cloudy days and feeling the cold breeze from a nearby heart grace the back of my neck, sore from beatific esplanades and silent study sessions where collaborative work is lauded but we fear change like we fear the enemy. I witness beauty sipping coffee and attempting genuine interest in medical textbooks. College students. I sense their identity crisis. I sense their intelligence and the alcohol on their breath. Good luck my friends. I must move on now. 

may 5

In the deepest daze this is when I should be sleeping. I could be meeting the working days with vigor and triumphant nonchalance. I met some with intent at foreshadowing golden moments. There were drug addled disparities to this mess and the general vibe became slow and sloppy. Quiet and sentimental in the eve of day after wilderness decay. We find comfort and solace in shitty beers and nothing purchased in the evening as if it mattered a damn in the scheme of things. One day ow it to him though the compounded guilt of one thousand missed opportunities fled with the onset of a trumpet section. They announce exits here  more frequently than entrances. The social runoff from massive pop cultural drains and the pace is different. Interrupting sentences and fighting with passive aggressive tones about album art and swollen hearts.

May 3

I know you're not the type of person who laughs when questioning self worth.

You say alcoholic. I say connoisseur.

May 3

Find the freedom to explore. It's always out there and available to you. The entire world is bigger than your conception of it. It will always amaze you, the more you decide to find new realms. Relish in new and extravagant sanctuaries, cease the frozen head games and find solace in dark corners of well lit streets. This is your home turf. Feel free to roam around. There are constant deeper luxuries waiting beyond these walls. There is infinite solace in the trees to satiate the soul. Your human soul is eager and hungry for more inspired motivation. You are worth more than your wildest childhood passions. The random distractions met and explored. You would be poorly clothed in long grass lawns with unknown possibilities in every inch of earth. You learned to desire a green earth and with the natural heightened impulses. We react to the sublime. There were moments of ecstasy in sitting as a stone on rocks. Diving off of bridges in a rip tide but feeling exuberant in the dangerous aspect of it. Life, it is based in the spontaneous and soul devouring moments. The moments of zen in action. We know the moments when we smile and connect on a level beyond standard word play.



We jump into piles of leaves like good soldiers. We play baseball in the park with our own rules. We run through the forest and ride bikes down perilous corridors and one track minds, playing through huge dirt ramps and falling over handlebars in half built ambitions, tree forts with intentions of completion and never allowing the fear inside the heart, we gave up on the simple possibility of cutting up wood and placing beams suspended over distances... moving upwards in years toward the grave and away, away blissfully from the confusion of the womb and existing for the first time in recollection and realize what it is to survive in this world as an individual with intelligent and directed mind out of the gutter with intention to help family exist in greater light and happiness at one point and the depression is one shared in blood and transferable through coarse affairs and blunt objects.....







"I didn't feel so brave when I began but the frontier thickened his skin and I'm certain I could face anything but going home again"

May 1st

It sometimes seems like there is a little man trapped inside of my head pounding to get out. When he is disappointed in me he causes a lot of mayhem in order to distract the sensibilities of my body. My brain is a cushion for these impacts. I rot inside. Often I'm left arguing with myself other something nobody said about anybody. I am inside of a recursive riddle with an elusive cadence that is never resolved. I find myself here in this body trapped like cattle in a slaughterhouse. I find time working away with tiny hacksaws at my joints and bones. My muscles broaden and then decay forever. I feel the tidal pull wash over me and dragged me beneath the ground with a ferocity and level of comfort that I could not fight valiantly. I could only fight half-assed and without much interest. I could fight against myself with dark sweeping armies and hordes of men with guns drawn and then burst apart at the seems like clogged arteries after years of abuse.

Now is the time to feed my soul. Otherwise it will starve to death.


-----

Make me remember you.

I want flowers to grow from my face. Turn my body into an urn in which a tree can grow.