Walk around with two middle fingers raised up to the sky. Parents, your stupid kids look all the same. Children, your parents all look the same. It is an endless cycle and the system shits out clones. We follow each other through fake boundaries and stack coins into piles. The state of arizona vs nathaniel james anderson. Mystery girls by the thousand, beat me every time. They win and I sit quietly watching them walk away, sadly. Everyone so mute. Hot days. Gone outside to fish in the bullshit. (You can't cut surgically with a shaky hand.) Mug with a dead cat. Throw away closet doors. They are mirrors and you are a mirror I cannot avoid. Muggy. The moon reflects through. I read scripture in a blank, virgin bedroom. Dark with the blinds the way they are. Lights reflect off the ceiling. Feeling hostile. I am sore and tired and moody. Where are the positive emotions in art?
"A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world"
Remove self from environment. Like a giant eraser. Dirtied by other wasted bodies. Our youthful throats full of smoke and lemonade. Dangerous curves ahead. They all distract with their perfect assets. I am uninvolved. Making a social statement. Personal statement surely by keeping it in wraps over the last miscellany of months blended together like water colors. I wish I could name specifics but it seems like I mostly stayed outside of everything. Isolated like a hibernating wild animal. Nearly no difference I guess. I built up some more connections in my brain for the sake of constellations, musical notation, burial goods, the column of trajan, anatomy of a neandertal, literary techniques and theories, music as a weapon, music as catharsis, the effects of music on sleep, anonymous, whatever my english 105 papers were about. I realized, a week in. That my blood is too thick. It is all a whirlwind and I've never found my footing. Everyone drifts around in their lives. I am indifferent to their wasted time. I try to be. I feel stifled. All of the weight. I've made no difference in any lives here. I've done so little in terms of widespread change. SO little! Now to run and clear the head of this junk in a physical sense unlike my corner of room crunched up into a pretzel. Leaving soon. No one will know. No one will notice.
I am a spirit floating between host bodies. This body was sick and decrepit. It does not treat itself well and if it doesn't no one else will. Lovely ladies in the sun. Nothing from them. I am indifferent. I am different.
2:22
Piles of change disassembled by rattling bass. the cheapening of perfume and the natural scents that don't seem so disgraceful anymore. just a jaunt into the forced pathways between helping hands and current events. gather your electrolytes and let's jam in the sun. (I suddenly remember having played the drums in the park down town Portland. Hop on the jam train.) Great impressions. Happy, smiling faces. Good work well done and no one thinks I am an asshole. Probably someone does. My mannerisms. The unchangeable things about my outside appearance ruin impressions and I fade in and out of meaningless relationship... BIG SIR
