Here I am, straggling behind the very essence of the generation I was born into. Everything moving so quickly. I know you were also alive before all of this stuff happened and the pace of the world shifted into hyper speed. How can you ignore that? Where does your memory go? (Doesn't happen with people who claim to exist only in the present and future tense.)
I'm offering you a fucking suggestion! (What I'm saying is already powerful.) Make it more powerful. Never whisper given the opportunity to yell.
Here I am. Alone with a bottlenecking generation all excited to enter a stupid and less productive lifestyle. A type of living where you are lazy as fuck in the face of ultimate responsibility.
Remember how it was before all of this bullshit!
No? Me neither.
----------
play until fingers sore though no blood pouring out. would have to play that rigorous for hours due to the already formed callouses on my hands. all of the blisters and huge sores. go for adventurous times. drive up for the holidays. delivering bullshit I do not need any longer and returning with equipment I can potentially use from now on.
sussurus: whispering, murmuring, or rustling
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Saturday, October 6, 2012
oct 6th
meditate on that night of absentia, a big void where the jazz should have been though it was all premeditated in the minds of the addicted, the selfishness and the waxing then waning ambition, in comes in spurts, small segments of pure adrenaline, driving recklessly, swerving violently, over correcting in the sense of attempting to make the car move directly forward in a straight line, sickness over flowing and crashing on my shoreline in waves, the nausea and the sea legs never developing, the directional atlas and everyone is too high to drive without fear, but that was never the original problem. make compromises and make it out to be something small but intimate and awesome, ridiculous to me the negligence of a night out for something stifling. margerita and a chica, no jazz runs too late and the musicianship is too much for a night club hair cut, all of the stupid songs on the radio. Before now I hardly called it music. I can't open my mind that wide.
activate the neurons and synthesize a crowd of like-minded, forward-minded individuals with enjoyable and compatible personality traits. I am made out to be a monster due to my vagrant opinion. Fine. A reason to exist. Music. Feeling like a vagrant with my monster opinion. The world is not small enough for us to reintroduce. beautiful lesson learned on the acid reflux fusion withdrawal symposium, flying free and healthy with guns and drugs and lovers in arms, over abundance of life flashing before closed eyes, missing moments based on faulty visual cues, flower design reminiscent of past psychedelia, the superficiality and the movement of the dress on the figure, we, the jealous, the unworthy and heart-ached, falling to puzzle pieces in the juncture of disappointment and further excitement lost afterwards, all silent and angry, square pegs and round holes or the opposition though I will have to watch Seahawks games in a sports bar somewhere around here, good cheap fun and full of comrades, in arms, kalisnokov, the soviet memorial union transfer student center-fold out couch potato bug infestation. frightful basket weaving around cars and quarters. though it never made any sense to anyone in the world.
red wine poetry or caffeine addicted consciousness. we must exist somewhere without fear and without disobedient energy inside of the soul, stepping in front of desires and stomping down the feet of good intentions, quickly and through a time lapse, we once believed that dinosaurs were buried by humans in order to appropriate the mythical legend of man becoming man through evolution and not the dividing spirit of a hand of a sentient god, something beyond history books and all of the evidence. we research these myths and fall into a stupid trance developing contradictory theory about everything. dinosaurs are real. mostly due to that last statement I've made. arguably I've just invented them into my own belief system. how did they all die? asteroid in the gulf of mexico and the impact crater now buried by an ocean inlet. the impact was not great enough to kill them all but the amount of rubble and dirt in the air would have blocked the sun for enough days to destroy all vegetation and food supplies dwindling in the darkened, lung-decimating air. Molecules collecting and expanding. Unbelievable ignorance. It is willful. Self-appointed. Present and forward thinker. Fine. I exist because you exist. Something huge is missing due to certain points of ambiguity constantly discussed without any evidence or anything backing. the current news. ruining the brain cells.
How could we go on so long without the sounds of pretty birds above our heads?
----------
sudden cosmic sadness drenching everything green and thriving prior, feel urgent to call dad for advice. how to deal with certain things with cross cultured ambitions. how can I exist so simply yet still fill myself to capacity with fresh and exciting experience? I need the dangerous mountains and flowing slipstreams to justify any sort of potential living in this city. I had terrifying images of my friends and family all turning old before my eyes, deteriorate into the small piles of ashes they started from. (see a spoiled kid and think of the possibility he knows not that he is alive and he may never know. he eats a tiny bag of 5 dollar popcorn and has never known true fear or true excitement. it all surrounds the necessity to get everything he has ever wanted. if his parents have the resources I cannot blame them for spoiling him, especially if the word love is involved beneath the surface.) Who knows. Maybe I would too if I could, but I am too much alive in this very moment. Better myself and feel awful guilty for wasting time and money getting wasted.
here the price increases but the value diminishes. people begin to confuse those two words replacing an expensive car with an economically viable one. I am not "economically viable" and that phrase needs to be murdered, screaming, in a silhouette dark alley. Masking the violent notions. Go to that desire and never turn back, motherfucker!
Everyone impress each other and cut the throat of all opposition even if friendly. Don't they understand that the only way to succeed with any truth is to rise up together. To influence and build off of each other with friendly encouragement and helpful hints. Give each other favors. Become a part of humanity once again. Rejoin and feel that joyous connection that we've lost since the renaissance in our now garbage-burning culture without much hope for anything stronger and more potent without star death. The apocalypse would certainly bring us together more than any bullshit second coming. We are here each once and it is forever at the same time! One in the same. We are all responsible for all manipulations to our unique universes. Hug everyone and feel a fire burn inside your heart, a candle from 100 yards away, flickering, an old engine stirring up, attempting to turn over... heart-death is not body-death these days. no one dies from heart sickness because we are all so desensitized to feel anything beyond the consumer interests preached and pounded into us from television and all media, killing our souls one screaming infomercial at a time, there is no learning to be had from there aside from what to buy and ways to market a stupid captive audience for the myriad Americans who believe tv shows depict reality better than everything you can see outside. listen to music, learn and grow. write and read joyously soaking up the minutest details between those worlds. alcohol and breath mints. left in the van and called a coward. all dressed to impress no one. tone deaf, non-musical people singing along to popular music at the weekend tequila bar. something to lower the bar and all expectations are murdered individually. somehow suddenly everyone understands the depth of shit we've been standing it and says. "I can't fucking stand it anymore!" Smashing a coffee table. Yelling until the voice goes hoarse, straight into the yawning void. So bored with your insolent outcries. The effort and the forward movement of all of history's leaders could not deal with this violently unforgivable world. the void remains. now smiling at our frivolous nature as we run through the rat race in marked off lines, the queues that kill us slowly but violently, like boiling our skin off in a vat of acid, getting excruciatingly high at the same time and feeling incredible stupid and lacking in genuine experience. all I remember is car sickness and other violent behemoths.
I will say something I believe to be meaningful. An unconditional outcry of my entire being. Screaming it and with more passion than I've ever before dealt with. No person answers. It is as if I have said nothing and no one listens carefully to the words I say. I need to gain respect by giving it out. Dishing out more than I could possibly ever receive. The reciprocal nature of personalities and different killing emotions and motives. Humans ignore the outcry of my passions. God doesn't listen. He is bothered by the multitude of prayers for bigger paychecks and then analyzing these lives of scum against one another for any moral ineptitude greater than the other... millions of filing cabinets full of paperwork to weigh they against. He is more of a magician than anything. Or akin to a wishing well. Dear god, I wish for a new car. Something with fast-acting air conditioning, automatic locks and leather interior... So god doesn't answer. He doesn't even listen to any honest outcry, there is too much shit piling up outside heaven's gates. Too much trivia. People don't listen. They smoke and ignore. They give a shit about the environment. They fill up their bodies with repulsive shit and fall into ignorance like something spiritual. I empty my soul into the words I scream at this moment of violent rapture. Everything stops for a moment at least but nothing reacts. Only the void. The void is there, listening. Reacting the most powerfully by listening carefully and then deciding never to answer. Never to reply or respond or explain why. This is the way of things.
"That's a good color on you especially if you don't like to get hit by cars at night."
"He was a man who did not suffer but pleasured in sleepless nights of brooding on the great clock of the universe running down or winding itself up, who could tell?"
-----
volcanic resurfacing, moving faultlines
redder light has longer wavelengths therefore lower frequencies
bluer light has shorter wavelengths therefore higher frequency
if there is a hole where a mountain used to be it must have been internal. if there is a hole where there was nothing, must have been external
ascension control, light gathering power
the isoprinciple constantly in action: matching music to a mood
88 constellations
velocity/distance... labeled 'something moving'
"to properly appreciate beauty, the viewing conditions must be optimal"
math homework < getting stabbed
the night sky should be bright
calm high dark dry
mt rainier is continental drift
an asteroid with our name on it
"in slower paced courses I'd take notes with my left hand"
thinned it out.. all of my knowledge... feeling dumber having done it but I felt there to be no real reason to keep those documents. the reason behind the 4.0. lost forever. I realized suddenly, achingly that I would never see those things again. but hey. I don't have documents from other semesters to look at. I just wanted to horde them. keep them in my records. look back and learn everything.
-----
rooting for the opposite team. I went to the bar to waste money and destroy all self-esteem. because I went alone and was judged instantly and unforgiven for that fact. different team judgement. why does everyone here root for the winning team without discrimination? interesting psychology. fuckers in sports bars root for the winning teams no matter who they are, and they take home women. get that drink on the rocks and work all day to afford the burger and beers. help me god. I had a burger and a couple of beers watching the game. losing in all senses. no one approached. it won't happen overnight. I have to change in order to approach anyone here. or there. scoot over fuckhead. all negative emotions flying through me.
activate the neurons and synthesize a crowd of like-minded, forward-minded individuals with enjoyable and compatible personality traits. I am made out to be a monster due to my vagrant opinion. Fine. A reason to exist. Music. Feeling like a vagrant with my monster opinion. The world is not small enough for us to reintroduce. beautiful lesson learned on the acid reflux fusion withdrawal symposium, flying free and healthy with guns and drugs and lovers in arms, over abundance of life flashing before closed eyes, missing moments based on faulty visual cues, flower design reminiscent of past psychedelia, the superficiality and the movement of the dress on the figure, we, the jealous, the unworthy and heart-ached, falling to puzzle pieces in the juncture of disappointment and further excitement lost afterwards, all silent and angry, square pegs and round holes or the opposition though I will have to watch Seahawks games in a sports bar somewhere around here, good cheap fun and full of comrades, in arms, kalisnokov, the soviet memorial union transfer student center-fold out couch potato bug infestation. frightful basket weaving around cars and quarters. though it never made any sense to anyone in the world.
red wine poetry or caffeine addicted consciousness. we must exist somewhere without fear and without disobedient energy inside of the soul, stepping in front of desires and stomping down the feet of good intentions, quickly and through a time lapse, we once believed that dinosaurs were buried by humans in order to appropriate the mythical legend of man becoming man through evolution and not the dividing spirit of a hand of a sentient god, something beyond history books and all of the evidence. we research these myths and fall into a stupid trance developing contradictory theory about everything. dinosaurs are real. mostly due to that last statement I've made. arguably I've just invented them into my own belief system. how did they all die? asteroid in the gulf of mexico and the impact crater now buried by an ocean inlet. the impact was not great enough to kill them all but the amount of rubble and dirt in the air would have blocked the sun for enough days to destroy all vegetation and food supplies dwindling in the darkened, lung-decimating air. Molecules collecting and expanding. Unbelievable ignorance. It is willful. Self-appointed. Present and forward thinker. Fine. I exist because you exist. Something huge is missing due to certain points of ambiguity constantly discussed without any evidence or anything backing. the current news. ruining the brain cells.
How could we go on so long without the sounds of pretty birds above our heads?
----------
sudden cosmic sadness drenching everything green and thriving prior, feel urgent to call dad for advice. how to deal with certain things with cross cultured ambitions. how can I exist so simply yet still fill myself to capacity with fresh and exciting experience? I need the dangerous mountains and flowing slipstreams to justify any sort of potential living in this city. I had terrifying images of my friends and family all turning old before my eyes, deteriorate into the small piles of ashes they started from. (see a spoiled kid and think of the possibility he knows not that he is alive and he may never know. he eats a tiny bag of 5 dollar popcorn and has never known true fear or true excitement. it all surrounds the necessity to get everything he has ever wanted. if his parents have the resources I cannot blame them for spoiling him, especially if the word love is involved beneath the surface.) Who knows. Maybe I would too if I could, but I am too much alive in this very moment. Better myself and feel awful guilty for wasting time and money getting wasted.
here the price increases but the value diminishes. people begin to confuse those two words replacing an expensive car with an economically viable one. I am not "economically viable" and that phrase needs to be murdered, screaming, in a silhouette dark alley. Masking the violent notions. Go to that desire and never turn back, motherfucker!
Everyone impress each other and cut the throat of all opposition even if friendly. Don't they understand that the only way to succeed with any truth is to rise up together. To influence and build off of each other with friendly encouragement and helpful hints. Give each other favors. Become a part of humanity once again. Rejoin and feel that joyous connection that we've lost since the renaissance in our now garbage-burning culture without much hope for anything stronger and more potent without star death. The apocalypse would certainly bring us together more than any bullshit second coming. We are here each once and it is forever at the same time! One in the same. We are all responsible for all manipulations to our unique universes. Hug everyone and feel a fire burn inside your heart, a candle from 100 yards away, flickering, an old engine stirring up, attempting to turn over... heart-death is not body-death these days. no one dies from heart sickness because we are all so desensitized to feel anything beyond the consumer interests preached and pounded into us from television and all media, killing our souls one screaming infomercial at a time, there is no learning to be had from there aside from what to buy and ways to market a stupid captive audience for the myriad Americans who believe tv shows depict reality better than everything you can see outside. listen to music, learn and grow. write and read joyously soaking up the minutest details between those worlds. alcohol and breath mints. left in the van and called a coward. all dressed to impress no one. tone deaf, non-musical people singing along to popular music at the weekend tequila bar. something to lower the bar and all expectations are murdered individually. somehow suddenly everyone understands the depth of shit we've been standing it and says. "I can't fucking stand it anymore!" Smashing a coffee table. Yelling until the voice goes hoarse, straight into the yawning void. So bored with your insolent outcries. The effort and the forward movement of all of history's leaders could not deal with this violently unforgivable world. the void remains. now smiling at our frivolous nature as we run through the rat race in marked off lines, the queues that kill us slowly but violently, like boiling our skin off in a vat of acid, getting excruciatingly high at the same time and feeling incredible stupid and lacking in genuine experience. all I remember is car sickness and other violent behemoths.
I will say something I believe to be meaningful. An unconditional outcry of my entire being. Screaming it and with more passion than I've ever before dealt with. No person answers. It is as if I have said nothing and no one listens carefully to the words I say. I need to gain respect by giving it out. Dishing out more than I could possibly ever receive. The reciprocal nature of personalities and different killing emotions and motives. Humans ignore the outcry of my passions. God doesn't listen. He is bothered by the multitude of prayers for bigger paychecks and then analyzing these lives of scum against one another for any moral ineptitude greater than the other... millions of filing cabinets full of paperwork to weigh they against. He is more of a magician than anything. Or akin to a wishing well. Dear god, I wish for a new car. Something with fast-acting air conditioning, automatic locks and leather interior... So god doesn't answer. He doesn't even listen to any honest outcry, there is too much shit piling up outside heaven's gates. Too much trivia. People don't listen. They smoke and ignore. They give a shit about the environment. They fill up their bodies with repulsive shit and fall into ignorance like something spiritual. I empty my soul into the words I scream at this moment of violent rapture. Everything stops for a moment at least but nothing reacts. Only the void. The void is there, listening. Reacting the most powerfully by listening carefully and then deciding never to answer. Never to reply or respond or explain why. This is the way of things.
"That's a good color on you especially if you don't like to get hit by cars at night."
"He was a man who did not suffer but pleasured in sleepless nights of brooding on the great clock of the universe running down or winding itself up, who could tell?"
-----
volcanic resurfacing, moving faultlines
redder light has longer wavelengths therefore lower frequencies
bluer light has shorter wavelengths therefore higher frequency
if there is a hole where a mountain used to be it must have been internal. if there is a hole where there was nothing, must have been external
ascension control, light gathering power
the isoprinciple constantly in action: matching music to a mood
88 constellations
velocity/distance... labeled 'something moving'
"to properly appreciate beauty, the viewing conditions must be optimal"
math homework < getting stabbed
the night sky should be bright
calm high dark dry
mt rainier is continental drift
an asteroid with our name on it
"in slower paced courses I'd take notes with my left hand"
thinned it out.. all of my knowledge... feeling dumber having done it but I felt there to be no real reason to keep those documents. the reason behind the 4.0. lost forever. I realized suddenly, achingly that I would never see those things again. but hey. I don't have documents from other semesters to look at. I just wanted to horde them. keep them in my records. look back and learn everything.
-----
rooting for the opposite team. I went to the bar to waste money and destroy all self-esteem. because I went alone and was judged instantly and unforgiven for that fact. different team judgement. why does everyone here root for the winning team without discrimination? interesting psychology. fuckers in sports bars root for the winning teams no matter who they are, and they take home women. get that drink on the rocks and work all day to afford the burger and beers. help me god. I had a burger and a couple of beers watching the game. losing in all senses. no one approached. it won't happen overnight. I have to change in order to approach anyone here. or there. scoot over fuckhead. all negative emotions flying through me.
Friday, October 5, 2012
oct 5th
door slamming anger and sudden connecting of dots, whispered dreams in between awakenings, we are all at fault though if a scapegoat is necessary I'll take the blame. It's probably entirely my fault anyway. Laughter. Negligent without recognizing it. Have I been a huge asshole this whole time? I don't think so. I'm honest. I tell it like it should be when I can. Frost on the windshield. Count your considerable losses and rewrite crazy psychotic symphonies. "No secret songs." But I need to with this one because I want every single word to count. As they mean so much to me. I spent so much energy in them and have so much faith I could not allow to see a single one disappear. But I have some scattered parts and melodies and it will come together like glue when I have a proper voice. Warmed up like a well oiled machine, the missing ingredient of honey in the tea and the voice box tightens, constriction like a boa that crushes its victims in a powerful clutch, the birthday cake fiasco on the summer dress, the friends on the breezeway, all of the others I call bullshit towards. There was never any negative energy to be had from that. I have a lot of friends though they simply aren't around and I have difficulty serving up conversations with them through technological sources because I always attempt to remain entirely in the present. as often as possible. I probably could take advantage of my technological freedom to communicate with anyone I please. random outcries and grasps toward those few people I can call consistent. They are there. Always. I simply have a hard time calling and updating. I live too deeply in the moment. In my own selfishness. I rarely hear myself saying awful, unforgiving and negative things. For no reason. I'm just kidding around. But the amount of it is too much. Everyone hates the jester, the joker after awhile. But I'm not always like that, believe me. Trust in me and you will be told of all our worries in time. In due time.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
oct 4th
3:30 - 3:50
Refrain from using bad language though colorful language is accepted as by definition it allows deeper access into the realm of the figurative. Listen to exciting and intriguing music, with all sorts of musical delight that allow my ears to open in joyous celebration, hearing the individual tracks and yearning to create something to be dissected as such and as gorgeously, just as that hearing specialist offered it all up.
Put me on the spot and I'll perform to my greatest inherent abilities, the spotlight is on and the crowd is roaring drunk with personal revelation, all of everything reversed and slowed down until incoherent, but I am sitting in a maroon room, with chapped lips and restless legs, scars on my hands from different violent motions, accidental. All of it accidental. Pull off chunks of skin like a snake shedding. Gore and guts. The foundation of glory and our fantastic world soldiers die for. But the image of a perfect world held up by them is a propaganda image to make the soldiers believe they are creating something meaningful in their self-conditioning, no one wins in that sum-less game, personalities are broken down and reformed in step to the rhythm of stomping boots, chiseled and shaped uniform, stars and stripes for ever. I would break my own legs before I could allow this kind of personality destruction to occur in me. Have a wonderful day and call out all of the shots before you take them, killing innocents with fire from air and water from the earth, opening to flood gates to just that necessary detail. nothing worth bragging about.
this affluent city, moving so quickly and aimlessly. taking the eyes out of a pilot. the plane is no longer traveling straight. we'll do handstands and drink things upside down. rainbow colored tea bags, all involved in the same sexual tension prior to any predetermined hook up, unlatched, date. the kind that no kid would ever tell a mother about, despite all boundaries crossed in past situations. women looking fine in sun dresses, and I am too afraid to ask them anything personal, or to comment on their beauty, maybe a legal drink or two and I'd be able to become that casanova that I have all potential of being. Regardless of how it is spent. I AM POTENTIAL. Just like you can do.
Flowers in vases though neither are real, living. both static or plastic, masquerading as the real thing, like many of these human machines I encounter every waking second. earn your stripes. Our darkest roast.
benevolent in dreams though malevolent in person, and inexcusable either way. carve yourself a happy path through those dark forest service roads, the ones you could ditch a body and no history would ever know of this, great god of hidden bodies, there is nothing more horrifying then the idea that your life caused no imprint in the grand scheme of things, or any lives. if you hurt more than helped than it is time to change or to die. nothing else. there are no side options for that kind of debauchery.
writing songs that serve as marketing capers for things that the top 1% of super-consumers can afford, strictly. no one else has the wealth to waste on such meaningless extraction so freely. (fantastic vanilla scent from passing beautiful women, wondering if they love the music I hate.) lyrical content like a barrage of theatrical advertisements that you cannot skip and have no heart to release. but you release them with a huge stack of one dollar bills surrounding your buried heart. go far from the industry, leeching thieving mess of a human artist.
reaching the pinnacle. that upper tier of global, interstellar success. the ability to write words down that speak to large, dark masses of vibrating people. glowing and floating souls of contemporary humanity. reaching that full extension of personal growth. the top of the mountain. the precipice with enormous drops surrounding on all sides. the wrong angle and the wrong perspective would cause everything positive in the foundation to crumble though if you are steadfast it cannot happen to you. take your pills and kill all other thriving features in the ones who you used to love. at the very depths of that mountain crevasse. they live in the caves and attempt to coax you into the thinnest air without oxygen mask to fall for days until a terminal velocity death-impact on the harsh and unforgiving ground below. they holding up spears to catch your rag doll body like a subhuman species.
Refrain from using bad language though colorful language is accepted as by definition it allows deeper access into the realm of the figurative. Listen to exciting and intriguing music, with all sorts of musical delight that allow my ears to open in joyous celebration, hearing the individual tracks and yearning to create something to be dissected as such and as gorgeously, just as that hearing specialist offered it all up.
Put me on the spot and I'll perform to my greatest inherent abilities, the spotlight is on and the crowd is roaring drunk with personal revelation, all of everything reversed and slowed down until incoherent, but I am sitting in a maroon room, with chapped lips and restless legs, scars on my hands from different violent motions, accidental. All of it accidental. Pull off chunks of skin like a snake shedding. Gore and guts. The foundation of glory and our fantastic world soldiers die for. But the image of a perfect world held up by them is a propaganda image to make the soldiers believe they are creating something meaningful in their self-conditioning, no one wins in that sum-less game, personalities are broken down and reformed in step to the rhythm of stomping boots, chiseled and shaped uniform, stars and stripes for ever. I would break my own legs before I could allow this kind of personality destruction to occur in me. Have a wonderful day and call out all of the shots before you take them, killing innocents with fire from air and water from the earth, opening to flood gates to just that necessary detail. nothing worth bragging about.
this affluent city, moving so quickly and aimlessly. taking the eyes out of a pilot. the plane is no longer traveling straight. we'll do handstands and drink things upside down. rainbow colored tea bags, all involved in the same sexual tension prior to any predetermined hook up, unlatched, date. the kind that no kid would ever tell a mother about, despite all boundaries crossed in past situations. women looking fine in sun dresses, and I am too afraid to ask them anything personal, or to comment on their beauty, maybe a legal drink or two and I'd be able to become that casanova that I have all potential of being. Regardless of how it is spent. I AM POTENTIAL. Just like you can do.
Flowers in vases though neither are real, living. both static or plastic, masquerading as the real thing, like many of these human machines I encounter every waking second. earn your stripes. Our darkest roast.
benevolent in dreams though malevolent in person, and inexcusable either way. carve yourself a happy path through those dark forest service roads, the ones you could ditch a body and no history would ever know of this, great god of hidden bodies, there is nothing more horrifying then the idea that your life caused no imprint in the grand scheme of things, or any lives. if you hurt more than helped than it is time to change or to die. nothing else. there are no side options for that kind of debauchery.
writing songs that serve as marketing capers for things that the top 1% of super-consumers can afford, strictly. no one else has the wealth to waste on such meaningless extraction so freely. (fantastic vanilla scent from passing beautiful women, wondering if they love the music I hate.) lyrical content like a barrage of theatrical advertisements that you cannot skip and have no heart to release. but you release them with a huge stack of one dollar bills surrounding your buried heart. go far from the industry, leeching thieving mess of a human artist.
reaching the pinnacle. that upper tier of global, interstellar success. the ability to write words down that speak to large, dark masses of vibrating people. glowing and floating souls of contemporary humanity. reaching that full extension of personal growth. the top of the mountain. the precipice with enormous drops surrounding on all sides. the wrong angle and the wrong perspective would cause everything positive in the foundation to crumble though if you are steadfast it cannot happen to you. take your pills and kill all other thriving features in the ones who you used to love. at the very depths of that mountain crevasse. they live in the caves and attempt to coax you into the thinnest air without oxygen mask to fall for days until a terminal velocity death-impact on the harsh and unforgiving ground below. they holding up spears to catch your rag doll body like a subhuman species.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Oct 3rd
An ulcerous moment (a moral blemish or corrupting influence). Here once again, in the present, collecting my thoughts. I spilled them out on the ground, uneven, and they scatter away like marbles. Now I gather them all in my arms affectionately. I am a vessel for them. They will sink with me.
Indigo blues and red wines. Very fortunate to be alive. Draining account of tasteless belligerence on behalf of all consumed quantities of alcohol. Lips are sealed around a bottle. I swallowed the key and will refrain from any future negative phrases. There was no hate in my heart. I was possessed by something beyond me and inevitable. Just as the philosophical mind fuck begins to gnaw away at defenses, vodka soda rebuilds barriers. The flood could not erase every memory. Someone will remember the flood.
The viper room. Stage in the corner. Bright gracious lighting all around the bar and the posse possessed a corner table, a booth to survey the situation and to find a purpose behind all of the whispering. A business man produces uninteresting advice and is ask a barrage of potentially insulting remarks. He sat on the stage for 20 minutes too long and everything became pushed back thanks to it. A man with a cane dragged him off. Like in the cartoons. Whiskey and cokes purchased for me. Dangerous to drink too much prior to stage set. "You looked possessed tonight." (I was.) given the birthday shout out on stage. Talked down at people from that stage. Rather tall. Just then. Unplugged my overdrive pedal accidentally. Killed the bass a few times. Light dimming and dying. There would not have been room for an eccentric and elongated pedal board. Handbuilt and with LED lights all around the center. Plexiglass cover and a dream of ideas regarding all of it. Have the time. Break into a high school and use their wood shop classroom. Building things. Becoming good with your hands and tools. A certain shape of training that no man should ever be able to exist alone in a crisis situation without.
Man hands me a beer on stage. Great guy. Also plugged in my pedal when I was too far involved in the music to notice it missing. You are supposed to ignore big mistakes when on stage anyway. Never look at the person who fucked up. Just smile and continue as they burn your youthful energy to pollute the air with grander smokestacks. Drummer breaks the head off of the double pedal and feels bad-guilty for it, though I was laughing because I thought it was awesome and metal as fuck. Indicative that he rocked out too hard to be limited in any sense. The heaviest set we've ever played and handsomely at that.
Complimented eyelashes. I say they are extensions. Woman says that can't be true because hers are extensions. I walk away. Made fun a fellow for wearing a sweatsuit and he calls me out. But I can be reckless and everyone allows it. Receive a phone call after mingling with the lady drummer of the headlining band. She had dreads and stopped me from getting past her due to her enjoyment of our set. There is a shot of tequila waiting for me somewhere inside. Birthday shots. Double fisting. Duct tape me to the bathroom floor. Lights and static. A cigar from the humidor of a cigar shop. Small. Intense. Hardly viable. "Whichever is the least damaging." Long island ice tea at the rainbow and some incredible pizza. a rowdy crowd and we all fell under the spell of the same fitful buzz. no argument a wonderful day.
no argument a wonderful day.
then the last night after conversations regarding everything most disgusting in the world. all hilarious and loud. listen to metal through the television surround sound speakers. practice screams. crash helicopters. shoot the cops. mixed drinks all day. drink straight from the bottle after a familial argument. something blood born and beyond my immediate comprehension. I'll never pry.
I sat and drank, listening to loud music. My favorite tunes. For some reason then I walked home. Second night in a row having the drunken ambition to stumble down the streets. Guilty of criminal mischief. Stepping stones on someones lawn. I moved them all one by one about ten feet to the left. kicking mailboxes. changing the lid of the garbage can and recycling bins. chewing up chocolate candies and spitting them on driveways. appearance of shit. stealing fake plants and replacing them with real ones. attempting to lit a cigar with a burner. rearranging tasteful landscape architecture for my own purposes. absolutely no reason for these tiny acts of anarchy. lawlessness. the reason is precisely that. I love fucking with people. I want them to scratch their heads in confusion and go about their day in a state of heightened awareness to the small details. The smallest. I wish to move yard ornamentation from one lawn to the next. Or swap things. They will never understand and I am the wiser for it. I am the shaken up carbonated beverage. Stirring things around in utter dismay. There is a huge indifferent world out there though sometimes it seems to line up and make sense. These times are when I surprise myself. My reflection in the mirror grinning and triumphant. The random act of lunacy. It is a kindness to preach some sort of enlightenment to all of the others. "I warmed them up for you." I consider myself a sort of messenger.
Writing breakdowns with a deck of cards.
Indigo blues and red wines. Very fortunate to be alive. Draining account of tasteless belligerence on behalf of all consumed quantities of alcohol. Lips are sealed around a bottle. I swallowed the key and will refrain from any future negative phrases. There was no hate in my heart. I was possessed by something beyond me and inevitable. Just as the philosophical mind fuck begins to gnaw away at defenses, vodka soda rebuilds barriers. The flood could not erase every memory. Someone will remember the flood.
The viper room. Stage in the corner. Bright gracious lighting all around the bar and the posse possessed a corner table, a booth to survey the situation and to find a purpose behind all of the whispering. A business man produces uninteresting advice and is ask a barrage of potentially insulting remarks. He sat on the stage for 20 minutes too long and everything became pushed back thanks to it. A man with a cane dragged him off. Like in the cartoons. Whiskey and cokes purchased for me. Dangerous to drink too much prior to stage set. "You looked possessed tonight." (I was.) given the birthday shout out on stage. Talked down at people from that stage. Rather tall. Just then. Unplugged my overdrive pedal accidentally. Killed the bass a few times. Light dimming and dying. There would not have been room for an eccentric and elongated pedal board. Handbuilt and with LED lights all around the center. Plexiglass cover and a dream of ideas regarding all of it. Have the time. Break into a high school and use their wood shop classroom. Building things. Becoming good with your hands and tools. A certain shape of training that no man should ever be able to exist alone in a crisis situation without.
Man hands me a beer on stage. Great guy. Also plugged in my pedal when I was too far involved in the music to notice it missing. You are supposed to ignore big mistakes when on stage anyway. Never look at the person who fucked up. Just smile and continue as they burn your youthful energy to pollute the air with grander smokestacks. Drummer breaks the head off of the double pedal and feels bad-guilty for it, though I was laughing because I thought it was awesome and metal as fuck. Indicative that he rocked out too hard to be limited in any sense. The heaviest set we've ever played and handsomely at that.
Complimented eyelashes. I say they are extensions. Woman says that can't be true because hers are extensions. I walk away. Made fun a fellow for wearing a sweatsuit and he calls me out. But I can be reckless and everyone allows it. Receive a phone call after mingling with the lady drummer of the headlining band. She had dreads and stopped me from getting past her due to her enjoyment of our set. There is a shot of tequila waiting for me somewhere inside. Birthday shots. Double fisting. Duct tape me to the bathroom floor. Lights and static. A cigar from the humidor of a cigar shop. Small. Intense. Hardly viable. "Whichever is the least damaging." Long island ice tea at the rainbow and some incredible pizza. a rowdy crowd and we all fell under the spell of the same fitful buzz. no argument a wonderful day.
no argument a wonderful day.
then the last night after conversations regarding everything most disgusting in the world. all hilarious and loud. listen to metal through the television surround sound speakers. practice screams. crash helicopters. shoot the cops. mixed drinks all day. drink straight from the bottle after a familial argument. something blood born and beyond my immediate comprehension. I'll never pry.
I sat and drank, listening to loud music. My favorite tunes. For some reason then I walked home. Second night in a row having the drunken ambition to stumble down the streets. Guilty of criminal mischief. Stepping stones on someones lawn. I moved them all one by one about ten feet to the left. kicking mailboxes. changing the lid of the garbage can and recycling bins. chewing up chocolate candies and spitting them on driveways. appearance of shit. stealing fake plants and replacing them with real ones. attempting to lit a cigar with a burner. rearranging tasteful landscape architecture for my own purposes. absolutely no reason for these tiny acts of anarchy. lawlessness. the reason is precisely that. I love fucking with people. I want them to scratch their heads in confusion and go about their day in a state of heightened awareness to the small details. The smallest. I wish to move yard ornamentation from one lawn to the next. Or swap things. They will never understand and I am the wiser for it. I am the shaken up carbonated beverage. Stirring things around in utter dismay. There is a huge indifferent world out there though sometimes it seems to line up and make sense. These times are when I surprise myself. My reflection in the mirror grinning and triumphant. The random act of lunacy. It is a kindness to preach some sort of enlightenment to all of the others. "I warmed them up for you." I consider myself a sort of messenger.
Writing breakdowns with a deck of cards.
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