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.


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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.



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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.


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Make me remember you.

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