may 29

Thinking about death about mortality and friendships. We stare at walls trying to see through them and fall into junk food habits where we can't find ourselves in our skin anymore. Our skin becomes sagged and fat. We are round bellied like pigs and consume alcohol like air. Addictions to the simple relaxations but they are all harmful. Trust papa and his tinkering. The world has so many things to offer but we can only ever sample it all. No one can do everything. A single mom who is also a practicing alchemist who works in a treehouse in the back yard, incognito. A nuclear engineer who drinks hornsby's hard cider by the 6, staring at 4 or 5 computer screens, mostly projecting stock market stipulations. Fall into six screens of sex and wait for girlfriend to come home after the night shift. Wait. Wait. Wait. Explode. She will be tired but you will be vigorous and red-eyed. Untamed in the wild like tiny children roaming through paradise. The walls seem to be crumbling around all old standing structures. No one smokes hookah on rachel's balcony. No one throws classwide parties and the cops are bored giving out M.I.P's. Maybe we were the last generation that had fun and suddenly everything is changed. We are broken out of the roles we sank into during close range tight nit high school hallucination. We are so removed. A year long friendship shooting jokes across the classroom in spanish or whatever. We find we have less to talk about because we don't keep in contact with everyone. Strangely it seems this same transition is happening with everyone. To each their own. Fuck everyone else. We are entirely separable. With perforated edges to let us know where to tear. Squares all have the same numbers of sides. There is a feeling, citywide, of lethargy. We are on treadmills when there are sidewalks to run. We watch action movies rather than performing actions. Celebrities captivate our minds and eyes although there is very little substance behind the people. It is all in the production. The people are terrible everywhere. Find a small loyal group to commit yourself to, link arms, and try to stop the tidal wave from taking out any devotees. Find a few with sure feet and burning eyes. Too passionate not to pursue the exact pipe dreams any naysayer would brush off of the wake of teenage angst. We are the future. We are the new generation of workers. The world is overpopulated. Somehow, somewhere.... (here, my god). there is a place of acreage and a huge sky, feel like I'm in a dusty snowglobe looking up into the space between stars... this space of course covered somewhere with a more distant or less visible star.... the trees are silent guardians. I think about high school dreams and mistakes. Realize more than ever how I can blow off many of these activities. Why does it feel like I am ending a chapter? Well maybe I'm not. The contents of this last one will still be important in the next one, with allusions here and there, reminders of prior action... but this is new mystery. New ground for our eyes to follow in unison. Left then right then left. (the age of miracles). This is the newest chapter and we are writing it with a rough idea of the characters aside from the humorous protagonist who feels he has finally found himself in a musical backdrop... the others are well-enough-developed for side characters... no prediction for any sort of antagonist... we watch the rippling water expand and wait for everything to happen for us..... let me in your heart! I want to love everyone I have ever met. I want to take them out to dinner and discuss what it means to know someone so briefly and then to actually understand them in greater depth. I want huge resources. Deep wells of deeper friendships. Connections everywhere. I want to wine and dine the greatest of my graduating class. Ask them how their lives are coming along... oh you're a body builder now... or an actress. a model... a photographer.... a make-up artist... works at sears... bootlegs DVDs and lives in a van.... rock band musician... indie band musician. jealousy perhaps trumps the rest... we have all been hurt and broken... mostly our fault though. It must be overlooked. The past should propel you forward. It is certainly nice to be nostalgic and to remember but there is too much to create! All the time must be spent in creation of things to tell the friends and the family... the old loves.... the dusty old fucks in down comfort who wait for men who will hold them... never abandon. I hold onto nice memories but wrote down the bad ones. They all float around somewhere. I remember hating and loving that aggressive music in the similar apartment. The very same? He lives in Colorado. I live everywhere. I am like a rolling summer mist and no one knows where I will land. Why do I need to land?