its 142 am, and I have to be at work in the morning

agricultrian.

throughout the years (after much haggling) ive finally figured it out.  one of those Thomas edison moments, one of those                         albert hoffman realizations.. One of those... 

   It's the format...

actually.. its the format.  Really.  That's what takes the most time, other than writing.. and artwork of course.. its all about petty passes.. four and then five, etc.. six, seven sometimes.  It's the placement of every sentence, or even if a word is spelled wrong.. every word matters in the over block of text, according to the program, according to the file.

Hasnt that happened?  Writing a paper, and you add a word or something, and then the whole format of the pages afterwards are all fucked up like crop after locust.. and theres sentences all run on, there's words floating, or incomplete without the hyphen or whatever.. it gets all fucked up, is really what im saying, the literal bottom line, but anyways, so ive been taking a break from physical writing, and ironing out the storyline kinks, the chapter placements, and even gotten the format going, and working off the template, literally from the top to the bottom.. it sucks, but im planning far ahead for this, and just trying to let it come natural, let it come in a way that ive used before, but to let it sort of build itself throughout it's floors, and corners.. shine it's own light, and draw it's own map.. so the storyline is coming in, the structure in a few different arrangements.. and ive seen the difference over there, ive seen the artwork evolve, ive seen the last few months.. ideas, building themselves from a new tool, ideas coming full circle to something that looks like Michelangelo did it.. just take a step at a time, just keep going forward, keep the snowball rolling 

annergy

sometimes i forget there's a deadline, sometimes I forget what im working toward, the bigger picture -sitting here on my bed.

New bed, new city, new sheets, and -oh yeah, I bought some blankets last week too.

I forget all the work that still remains, all the writing, all the hours I'll put in.. not just into the writing, but into the inspiration, into the drive.  I work for the inspiration, I work at creating the relationship.. getting the duende into bed first.. the product will come second, but I've been searching, manhunting for images that capture the words im trying to say, that extra thousand, and with more than twenty images so far (over the course of a few months) i forget that I signed onto this.. with about a years worth of time, thinking I would be completely done by January.. thinking it would be ready.. some things happened, some shuttles spun out of control, and some people onboard went absolutely bonkers.  Remotes flew, the headsets broke, and an engine failed.. some people bailed out, others were thrown... there was betrayel, there were secrets, and I acted in ways that I regret.. thinking that I had all the time, and freedom to do this project as I pleased, and signing on, believing there was a small bit to come out, with maybe three hundred twenty pages at most.. but how that's changed, and how i've changed, and how we see things differently.. I forget that:  Ultimately, the art will decide the art.. it will interpret the times -here, on it's own, and it's better without the music, reading the lyrics and imagining the full composition.. you'll get stronger at piecing it together.  They said Micheal jordan would, visualize his shots before he took them.. he would picture where he wanted to be, or sitting in complete silence and darkness once a night and visualizing your artwork for eighteen hudred seconds for at least twenty one days will push it over the edge, to a new level I found.. just get stronger at piecing it together, wait a while longer while conceptualizing it

just so You saw it first

oh yeah.. its safe for work.  I promise

twenty one

alright??

after much debate today, i've finally figured it out tonight.. I'm going to do a quick first draft, and proof printing and release this work

the first week
of january
for a limited time.

Got it?  I'm working on it tonight, but unfortunately it has to get approved and all that beautiful shit that takes way too much time, but anyways.. I want to do something different each time I put out a book, sometimes its the writing, other times its the font, or artwork, and last time it was the formatting, last time it was size of the words, and color of the pages, and some photographs that I took.. and this time... this time I'm going to change all that, I have some ideas on how to make this a unique book, in format, story, in writing, in artwork..all that, so im going to work on it, play around a little, and come first week of 2012, you'll be able to order a very 'rough mix' of what im working with now.  ill be sure to write more later, but for now, that's all I got..

almost 2230

Last night I found a piece, to this puzzle.  And sitting here, at this table, ive begun employing it.  Utilizing it, practicing.. exploring it's weaknesses, boundries and possibilities I could only dream of.. so I'm taking a risk, I'm going out on a limb and starting the cover design for Polyester.. With the first pass written, this weekend, im going to start working on some of the artwork, and developing two characters.

I'm not sure when I can/should start posting this new artwork im doing, here in the second stage of creation, but you'll know it when you see it, and this tool, finally found after months of searching.. I could hardly sleep last night, just thinking about some of the work I want to do, and even tested it out on another project using a certain symbol, a certain helmet.  

In my mind im everyone... 

and taking advantage of the moment (something I learned to do while changing clothes in my car, or sneaking a quick piss in the wal-mart parking lot..) I was able to pump out about 10 pieces of this work, while the "duende" was still breathing, while the inspiration was still there...

When you wake up you're away... 

   and thinking back to what I've written:  Quardi Nake, asleep in the desert, dirt all over his head... I'm reminded that one day the desert does end.  One day you will get yourself, and privacy back.  A bed to sleep on, and four walls, and a locked door enclosing you in.  I'm reminded that -though constant, thunder does move on.  Storms pass.

   Now here I am,

in a city I love, with cool roommates and my car in a garage (!!!)... I have to admit that tonight I feel lucky, spoiled by life to have a shower so close, and walk-in closet at hand.  My stuff, folded.  The train station so far away... All my food in a pantry, and the books I lugged -lining my walls.  I must admit how blessed I've been, my whole life.

   Well, it's time for me to sleep now.  I am officially racking out, legs extended.

Goodnight  

a portion from my "ex-blog"

ive been thinking about this corner I have, here on the internet.  I’ve been thinking alot about how I wish things were different, and how I regret some decisions i’ve made in my life, and how they’ve brought me to this point here.. and after all the work i’ve done, and relationships i’ve built.. all the experiences i’ve had, good and bad.. im thankful for, no doubt, but I have to admit that the story isn’t over, but that i’ve sort of found myself at the drawing board again, and that i’ve fallen out of love with my city, and ive learned what a true friend is, and i’ve learned what it means to be hungry, what it means to be full by a sort of uncertainty and blind faith that things will work out, if not today -than tomorrow, and that you can trust in people, and that my biggest regret was not letting you know how important you were to me, and im not asking for anything now, but I want to apologize for how I acted then, and that I missed out on something good, and ive seen you in my dreams, and that ive been thinking about you so much lately.. you’ve been on my mind, and yes, sometimes people see the same movie, but see two different endings… I understand that now, but nothing compares to the feeling that i’ve lost, but that i’m okay with it, and i’m okay with what tomorrow brings, and that we will never die, but we will find a new way to live, and that life hasn’t promised us anything, it hasnt guaranteed us any sort of end, so that our reincarnations could be multiple, that hope is all we have, and that it pays off, that the people you grew up with.. you might not ever see them again, or care, and that’s alright.  Just whoever you are, and wherever you find yourself, trust that everything will work out, trust that the story isn’t over, but that theres much more pages, and chapters, pictures and characters you’ll find.. don’t give up yet 

"about eM" page [Update.]

I updated the "about eM" page.. added some stuff about where I was at in my early twenties.. I havent forgotten about some of the things I said I would do, so check it out, 

click here  



   thanks for all the emails and support. 

If someone asked me how I was doing, as an honest question.. I really wouldn't know how to answer.

a promise

   just been thinking about all the people ive known, teachers from every grade, and instructors from each class.. co-workers, bosses, enemies, kids, and training partners that fucked me up.  Girlfriends, and interests, and how, and when we first started hanging out.
 
   what they did to influence me, shape me, mold me, and guide me.  How I saw them, in the times we spent it together, in the times we were driving at night, or drinking together.  ive done my best to remember every single one, and think about what characteristics ive taken from them, and how different they made me, how friendship has steered, and charted some aspects of my life, but ive fallen so far, and often lay back, viewing this house that overlooks the train station, up on top of this hill, and wonder, and know -why it's not me up there, but how i've fallen, how ive mutated and transformed into this animal.  And it's not a "woe is me", failed relationships type selfish bullshit, but more or less like so much was wasted, so much potential, i just sat back and watched.. sink down the drain with our future, with all the words i could've said, or notes I didn't write.

there are no second chances


   no other time in our lives,
will we suck on the pierced right ear and stare into each other's eyes, drive our cars next to each other, and turn all over the roads, and laugh at each other's requests in light of a movie, in light of a fire or Italian restraunt.  Our red shirts, our brown eyes, lost.  Each other's side, and turning my back -when she faced to look at me... It's hard to find self forgiveness, for missing out, for rejecting yourself, for not feeling good enough, worth someone's love, worth someone's future.. but I didn't, I didn't feel like I could handle it all, like it was together myself, like the skeletons were ready, like the laundry was clean enough, I never believed in myself to fully deliver, but having showered for the first time in days, and awake at the train station.. a seagull floats over, and I wonder if it sees me, I wonder what it's thinking about, worrying about, migrating for, because I want that drive, and im sorry to for all the people I stayed around, and kept around, and cut out the ones that needed me, that I needed.. How stupid are we, when we think we have it all, when we think there's so much more remaining, no matter what we do?  How stupid we are, and how stupid I was for not holding on, not realizing that it could all be taken from me, that things could change, that if I fought harder, or more, for who and what I truly care about, maybe I wouldn't be sleeping here anymore, maybe I wouldn't be alone, or at least have a dog, or bald cat.  Even if they puked, on my garage floor, even if they shed a ton of hair.. I'd be fine.  It doesn't matter anymore, and not saying that I would just leave it there, all over three stories in this house or whatever, but I mean that it wouldn't be such a big deal anymore.  That I don't think I would feel the same, about it.  Not to say I cared a whole lot when my dad first brought him home, got him from the pound.  Kennel, his name converted to: Kenny.  My cat.  He was hella skiddish, sketchy and always hiding, but then he would disappear for a few days, and come back out of nowhere.  Pieces missing in his ears, and tail like half length, he was all fucked up, but as time went on, and he lost more teeth, he was throwing up more.  Sometimes on my bench press, sometimes on my lawn mower, and once he threw up on my dog.  At the time I was pissed, spraying down the tile, spraying down the carpet with another bottle of Febreze, wiping it out with paper towels, clumps of them.  I was pissed, yeah.  But now, if he did this.  I'd be happy to have him around, again.  I would be happy to clean up his shit.. well, sorta.  But if I make it out of this thing, and away from this fucking train station, in a home with four walls and a bed to call my own, I promise, I promise myself I'll live different.

at 15

if my mom could see me..

   both sweating
panting,  each other's names.. she'd never told me how i'd be forgotten so easy, and never warned me about all the pain in the world.

   and if she could see me now, I bet she'd say its okay to cry about money, doing 75 on the freeway this night.

me, snuggled up.  synthetic uniform.  Knife.  High, with several drinks.  One in the chamber, and ready for bed... I think she'd be proud.

courtesy of Corona's finest... I really need to get out of this place.

   in my dreams they gave me the best advise, and in my dreams they are a real person that show emotion, and express things, but in real life, thats just something i missed.

people change and promises are broken

another thought from no-whereland

whenever i jump on the internet, i forget that i need a shower.  Instead i opt for idling

outside a building you need membership for, you need some card just to get inside, use some

shit, and get wifi.. Ha, you think they would have secured this connection by now, but no..

I bet they werent depending on someone like me, someone to roll in my car with my twelve

volt converter and battery adapter to charge, and power my laptop to steal something like

this.. but my phones charging through the USB, and im not changing out of my work clothes

until my shift ends tomorrow.  Times are tough, but ive gotten tougher, and stepped up my

canned food rations per-day.  im getting smarter about this all, and even called my dad to

say happy veterans day.. he didnt pick up, but thats alright, i left a message and i hope

he listens to it anyways.. for now, im getting back to tumblr, im getting back to

downloading some stuff i need.  take care, and thanks to every vet out there for serving,

protecting the united states from it's enemies, both foreign and domestic and all that.

Thanks

A use

   looking for construction sites in the middle of the night, just to use the "porter potty" and collecting water from a broken sprinkler on the way..

the rain is colder,
the cars pass faster,
the night is more lonely
/than it's ever been.

   I see the trash bags hanging from the chain linked fences, and wonder if there's any food in them, wonder how many people waste their money, on things they don't need.  And shopping at the best grocery stores, how their egos must be stroked when they swipe their gold card, and fall asleep to the thought of their frequent flyer miles, and insurance premiums.

   and sometimes i get mad at myself, and remind myself how badly I want to write the best work ive ever done, and wonder if every word reflects that desire.

and sometimes I lay back on this new blanket I got, in my cold weather field jacket, and laugh to myself.. examining all the connections that come and go with the cars, the connections here on my laptop's WIFI, and I think about all my friends... Dave hood, who's on the streets, bankrupt because of a brain surgery he had.. waiting for a social security check that never comes, and how differently each of our individual lives have turned out, and the piano playing in low octave and the hella reggae music I hear, coming from the walkie talkie of the security guard that unknowingly guards me, and the stains in my work pants, and the uncombed status of my impending hair tomorrow, and how it's falling out, and how I only have one shot at success in this life, and how I must be blowing it, sober.  how I must be blowing it by not forwarding some sort of violence, and some sort of irresolution with the people that piss me off and how funny the music sounds from other peoples laptops at the library, and how they must think that i cant hear the poor musical choices they decide, and the dance beats coming from the headphones, and the super high vibrato notes and the awkward eye contact they make with me when i walk by with my tucked in shirt, and even though I don't at you in my passengers seat, doesnt mean I don't care, and maybe at my job I get into people's heads too much, and maybe i invest alot in all people i meet, and how strange i must look taking long-ass gulps from the public water fountains, because i dont know when my next drink of water will come, because i don't know the schedule of the sprinklers (yet) because life has taught me that there are no guarantee's  that there are no promises, that the people who meet success aren't necessarily the ones that wanted it, that if you lose sleep over something you love, it might just end up hating you more.. life hasn't promised us anything, so we shouldn't hound ourselves, so we should give it our best and hope for the right outcome, that the dice will roll in our favor, that the rack will break and we'll pocket a few, that life is drunk, and that one day, it and it's smile, laughter, and mystery will fall on us like clouds on a mountaintop..

a memory

I was shooting pool, and my hand -flat on the table, stick on top of the backside of my palm.. between my middle, and ring finger, pointed at the target, with only 5 balls left on the table.. it felt like I was alone, on my favorite table at a bar I used to frequent..

   wake up, on the trailer floor, and im back here.. far from my job, far from Corona, my hometown.  It was just a dream, this thing I used to do, this game I used to play, and was pretty good at.  I have dreams about it now, and haven't played anymore, since.  I hear that back by my old house the bar shut down, that no-one I know is there anymore, that the place isn't (obviously) the same, and that it's a different name, total different staff, and no more billiard tables inside.  I miss playing.  I miss spending time with ten racks all to myself and a few pitchers to drink solo, alternating between going outside and coming back in to continue.. I miss those days of no time, just me, my beer and a skill being developed..  

arenas

so I started this blog to kinda "live-blog" the creation of my latest book 'Polyester Paradigm'

but, quite obviously.. that's not how its gone down, at all.  This has become its own little monster, it's own little project, and I think what I like the most about Polyester is just how "grown-up".. or "mature" it is.  I've broken away from the Bastard format, and the whole Mark Twain thing, and just really tried to push myself, and re-invent how I write, how I describe things, and in the same message... deliver my note.  It's really juist a statement of being, or mindset, and half how I see myself.. both now, and in the future.. and in case the future never comes, I have something that opens a window to how the world should be perceived... without fear, without hunger, without needs.. a sort of shared experience, and beginning from what life means to the peace of death.. I think Paradigm could very well open up new doors for me, and my readers.. in their own creative life, and in their own goals.. painting a sort of hero, and how-to guide for owning and operating a transatlantic company and all the necessities for such.. I think of it as a handbook to technology, death, and prosperity.. not a BOOK like in the biblical sense, but more of a guide.. this monster im taming.  It (just like this blog) is rearing its ugly head, and showing me it's own direction, but like a matador and a bull, intelligence over instinct, im following it -where it leads me.. and this piece I did back in july.. just a representation of an image you might see.. working at PELICAN, developing the software and seeing into the WINDOW... looking at your PRINT, your RIP.. guiding them beyond BLUELIGHT.
 

a ways ago

    waking up with people staring at you, from a dream about someone you used to like, have a
relationship with, someone -in this dream, that seems perfect, that seems like they really
had it all -inside.  water tilting from the sprinkler, flying above the grass, a patch to
mow of perfect proportion without wondering why you are where you're at..

why you are where you're at,

    missing limbs, and SSI.. walking, just continue to be that dog hanging out the window, with
a family in front, a family of different colors and backrounds, and distant relatives
and beliefs.. No one will look, trust me.  No one will see, and you shouldnt care to begin
with, because boundaries can be pushed, and perspectives could be given, if you try, and
lives can change, and she could discover herself, if you try.

    and in my dream she wrote the kindest words, and didnt stop, and took up all the room on
the card, she wrote it in the most careful cursive, the contrast of the bright chalk on
this dark board, a mashup of scenes of her writing, to me -in this card, and on this board
in front of a room, the scene was a collage, of her hair flowing, and blowing in imaginary,
temperatureless wind.. her smile, wide and showing all her teeth..

"tell me what i did, i cant find where the moment went wrong at all.."

    I take back what I did, I take back neglecting you, but I poured over myself, for a year
and a half, I mulled over how lonely i felt, sitting on my couch with my dog, by myself,
and thinking about the notes you wrote that I trashed, and pictures you took of us
together and the room we used to sleep in, and the borrowed sweaters you'd wear.

   dogs sitting on recliners, and Taco Bell with a movie.  Silent walks on a cold night,
gloves, and hoodies.. our way of life and bubbler snorkled cartoons.. just remembering
what I used to have..

local craziness known as the 91 freeway eastbound to some 'beach cities'...

edit: and i know, and understand the resolution of my cell phone camera isn't the greatest megapixel or whatever, but theres more than 200 cars lined up in this frame, and this is just a sliver of the onramp.

atop

   catch a bus, and sleep on it.  all that matters: Full stomach.  Work, and
exit doors left open, and people that don't look.  People that "know better", and
security guards who like you.  Public bathrooms with power outlets, and microwaves at 711,
and bugs who become your friends.  Spiders bless with the flies they catch, keeping your open
canned food clean.

   my hand slides down, unbuttons her pants..

   hide so many things in your pocket, and after being through all the crying and tears, regrets
and shortcomings -standards too high... All the hurt goes both ways, so don't blame
yourself for it.  All the days weren't wasted, your choices have value.  Part of the poster,
the screen, youre on the front cover.  Dream.  Lay back and let your thoughts guide you,
build where you want to be.

   i kiss her forehead as i slide myself in..

   and when you curl up, to go to sleep, take the socks off, but cover your feet.. remember
the few that know you, who care where you eat..

   pull my head back and look into her eyes, we stroke each other's shoulder blades, we kiss
and grab hands...

just like the flying V, and drummer in the back.. I think he wasn't into it, after the last show in december, after 2001.. but went with it anyways, and though i have nothing, sitting at the park, playing 6 strings in the wind, and no-one around except her.. It comes back to me, it comes to be alive again, it resonates in the trill notes, it revives in the high e string, and walking up the 14th frets in E-minor.. feeling the coils, feeling the bridge against my palm slaps, and reverb from the hollow dreadnaught, reverb from the cement and grass around, with cars passing by, and people walking their dogs.. its coming back to me, and im no longer alone..

sleeping next to the 91 freeway has to be one of the funnier experiences of my life... People piling on until 9 o'clock that night.. and nothing, no peep til 6ish AM the following sunrise, and a crowd, a gang of cars everywhere, back at it again.. stuck in California traffic.

   It's the life really, we sacrifice our dreams at the alter of responsibility, at the alter of someone else's words, or their dreams, their direction for us.  So we sit on the freeway for them, we burn our gas, and pay the prices because someone else told us to do it.. you fuckin kidding me?

the city is my home,
the city is my home..

   Leaving the duffel bag in these bushes, full of food.. I come back another night to pick it up, still where I ditched.. between the bush and the tree.. some car stops to look at me, probably wondering if I have a weapon, probably contemplating killing me, some George Zimmerman shit.. god these people, the public, you learn something about them when you disconnect yourself from it all...

   they're paranoid, they're willing to kill for fear, not die to it.

humanity at times is kind of a joke in my opinion.. All these people burning gas, and dumping toxins down the drains..leaving kids or pets in a car, windows up... "accidentally" cooking employees with an industrial oven, and saying they were a "hard worker".. children screaming in the library, a line of honking cars because someone is in the crosswalk...

   I have no words anymore, but when I walk into carls jr to take a piss, or drop a shit.. face all oily from waking up, and stomach full from the night before.. there just are no words anymore, other than the same usual speech of

   "no-one will stop to help you out.. nobody cares, only your friends, only your family.."

   yadda-yadda.. I feel like im beating a dead horse with my writing, I feel like my words are falling on a deaf crowd that are consumed with their phones and their text messages, and their inability to relate to someone pointing out the flaws in professional relationships, or systems that need fixing.. I feel like it's wrong to state the truth, I feel like its wrong to follow my impulses, like it's wrong to lose passion in certain things.. I feel like its wrong to go with the waves and wind, and say fuck it if someone treats me badly.. im tired of all the educated marching along to someone elses drum... what if you just threw it all away.. who are you when you have nothing, and what form of a new kingdom would you build, from the ground up?  get the chance

who are you...

   getting used to all the pets, and different animals, and places im not welcome, and parents, grandparents that don't know im here, the scar on my face, the cold and the dreams.. memories and fading feeling of being homesick...

a visit

   Hopped the fence, around 1140ish.. friend waiting in my car, running idle.  Grabbed the bag I left, saw that all the lights were off, and in a once in a lifetime, last-ditch effort, whispered her sleeping name. 

   Nothing. 

Whispered it again...

   Nothing. 

   Dog sleeps through so many tv shows, and blaring Bjork songs... I remember us in my room, her asleep on my floor -fuckin snoring loud as fuck.  God, she wouldnt let me sleep with her out of control, rude sleeping antics.. it's like she was the only one in the room or some shit, but she was on my floor at one point, passed out in the room. Me, on the mattress, awake.. hella early, just staring at her.. kinda pissed off?  Yeah.  Kinda.  I was mad that she wouldnt shut the fuck up.. but I love her anyways, and understand that she needed the sleep or whatever, so I didnt wake her up.. I didn't put her outside, I just dealt with it, but anyways,

   "Buttercup.."

   Flash forward a couple years, 1143ish one night..

"BUTTERCUP, WHAT THE FUCK?"

   From the other side of the garage door, I hear her wake up.  I hear her shake around..  She rushes to the other side of the door, I hear.  I try to lift the thing up, but im not strong enough.  I try to slip my fingers underneath the door to her, but they're not long enough.  She smells me, I hear her nose.

"Buttercup.."  I whisper,  "..told you I'd come back.." 

   Her nose makes all this noise.. and though we don't touch, just knowing each other is there, divided by this door, divided by some beliefs, and morals, pages and scriptures, divided by alot of things.. We just know each other is there, and that's good enough.  And in our own little ways, possibly smiling inside, possibly farting with joy, I do our "secret call" (psssttttttttt!) one last time, and hurry back to my car, and waiting friend, and speed off down the street, finally re-united with my bag, and the contents inside, drive off into the night...

    sitting here and my friends playing with his cats, got a laser pointer on the floor, and making one, then two, three, and four cats come out from hiding and chase after the beam.  laughing and on the computer listening to the psychedelic furs.. People ask me when am I going to get a place, when am I going to get a room, when am I going to start new...

when
when
when..

   When im ready.. when I feel this journey is over, because there's been nothing like it, on the move.. even though im tired, even though I don't sleep the same, it makes all the sense and getting used to all the pets.  im stressed, sure.  I'm worried, yeah.  About my car, about my job, about my future, but all my new friends, and places and cities ive been to.. nothing can change my desire for that, my need to be on the move, and one day, I'm putting this out there, one day I do want to settle down, on all fronts of my life, and start over, let the rebirth continue, and eventually be born into something new, but for right now, LA on the loom, and meeting up with other friends.. right now is all in bloom...

   actually having a real, meaningful conversation with my ex-girlfriend is nice.  I'll admit, ive been feeling pretty lonely lately, and realizing that I cant really accomplish all my goals or a possible relocation on my own...or at least I could, but it wouldnt be as fun as sharing them or success with a best friend, with someone closer than anyone else, and im actually really scared to start something new with anybody else.. just the whole afraid to eat in front of them process... I would just rather do this with someone that ive already known before, because yes, yes I do.. I have trust issues.. there.

    It's on blogspot now, for everyone to see.

more tellings of issues and blunders to come

across

   all the places you'll sleep, homeless animals you feed, and other people you meet... That's what makes waking up at 319 worth it, when someone knows you aren't there, when the freeways don't stop moving for you, yeah -you, taking a bath with a spray bottle, mixture of water and body wash with shampoo.  Nobody stops, or cares, or gives a fuck if you're in a situation, or agreement -it doesn't matter.  Nothing matters anymore, but when you eat and where you'll sleep.  The next place to change some clothes newly bought, just so in private -you'll feel better about yourself, so the dreams you continue no longer haunt you in the day, so you forget the sins, and faces, and lips that wait. 

   Visualize all the restraunts -with bathrooms close by, with food under five dollars, though you cruise around with 1400 in the bank..

all that matters isn't the routine of tomorrow, it's the mystery of now

   im lying on all these forms about my current address, and in my newly purchased earbuds, listening to music again.. How wrong I was in taking for granted the ability to play, and listen to choice music on demand.. how wrong I was in taking for granted such simple things in life, and missing them all, wrapped up in a jacket and newly bare feet, asleep in the public, asleep by the train station.. work in the morning, I spend all the night before talking to a friend, talking about this newly formed journey. 

They say people don't know what to tell you, when you're moving in a vessel, because they're not sure how to reach you, or where you travel,

   and where I travel is all on me, with my newly acquired riches and commerce. 

hard drive plugged into a library computer, finally online, finally able to browse the internet again.  All the play dough, asleep in their pastor's beds.  all the fearful asleep under someone elses roof, and Miami calling across the country, across the moonwaves and light.  I peer outside from my car and into the night sky, its millions of miles away, and feeling the shift, of cosmic eyes, shining down on me, I feel the shift and the fever pitch, I feel it all   

sometimes I listen to this music, and look at pictures of cities I want to live in.  The skyline, and way our Sun hits the horizon, reflects off the metal and brainchild of a thousand years.. I hold onto the hope that one day I'll live to see them in person, with a few friends and a place to sleep.  Finally washing my hair, and wondering who else is out there feeling the same, who else is out there seeing things like I do, with a cute girl laying next to me, breathing slowly on a purple pillow, liking the music I do.

I wonder who else is out there, that feels like things will never change, but get worse and debts increase, and beings coming to pass, and the cycle continues...

my ultimate goal in life is to be making money at my job without physically being there. 

and while I was "Draining the lizard" today.. I thought about it, and today might be the first day this has actually happened.. I have a dude coming in to sign for a car we test drove, and I left another guy with his daughter waiting to be financed.. so I'm on two deals without even being at work.  Cool.  

and on another note.. I just want to send a nod out, and say that I took to an example, I took to an ideal, and I'm not sure if it'll "work out" (see: Is Karma Intentional?) but basically, i'm wondering what the truth is behind this advise, or teaching given.  It is said that good judgement, experience, and insight are some basic characteristics or fundamental to it all.  I can't say that I exemplify any of the words aforementioned, but I will say I want to learn more, and put these tools into practice -eventually into 'full on' use.

so here it goes, and it doesnt seem so great anymore, but here it goes.. just wanted to say thanks.

so whatever happened long ago, let's just leave it there.. Let's just move on from the bit, and fix the cracks in our windows, and let the scars heal, and wash our clothes, and forget about the times we yelled, or bailed out on the other.

   Let's just forget about the times we walked passed, ignoring another.

   I'm not holding it against you, or asking anyone to take a step back, but go another forward in the way you're pointed, go another for all the times you held back, pushed it down.  The light is on, and darkness exposed, it's time to walk, it's time to go.  Be strong, and show me where you stand, smoke out the enemy, make me pour out, everything I ever missed, everything I stood for that was wrong, and malignant in your eyes.

   Restore to the innocence, restore to the hours before -when it all began, before the kitchen was stained and little ones cried, before we were taken out of our minds and said the things we couldnt take back, before it all happened and my truth told...

end of the line

   Frankenstein... He's parked next to my grandfather's car (not sure what he named it) but anyways, I got a ticket that day.

   I parked it on the street and I guess you're not allowed to do that because of the street cleaner or something.. Welp, either way, I paid it.. and the whole time wondering, maybe realizing the whole situation is like a Steven Spielberg tragedy.. I guess what i'm trying to say is that the State itself is going through some tough times.. As in, A few counties are going through chapter 11's or whatever, they're bankrupt, and the national debt is an astronomical figure -so im paying for this shit???

   Why do they need my 60 bucks?  It's not going to bail them out of anything, anyway.  Oh well.

California.  What can I say

it's 126am.. and it feels like 7 ion the morning to me.

   welcome to LA 

   It's the horse.  The propulsion and movement, full force behind the beast that drives you, the soul covered by all the veins, and skin and warts and boils.  Fingernails, and toes, arches and vertebrae.  It's all the part, waving from the bomb, as the frame changes and the bay opens... They ride it to the bottom, through the black and white image, through the humor and script, awards and passed on dvds.

It's the elephant, or chariot, or song that hums, gently through the speakers and bounces off your walls.

Harpsichord improvisation -solo to coda...    

audiovox

the random visits, the ones unexpected are the best.. where they come from when you're reaching into the refrigerator... For watermelon, for grapes, and pizza, and corn -with green beans, peas, carrots..etc.. when you feel the movement, the phone, and its their name on the screen..  Glad it happened, really happy about the visit.. even though it "interrupted" the penguin fights on BBC.  The smashing of eggs, and stealing others babies.  Couldn't believe what I was seeing, literally sitting there, mouth open, and full of food.. How, or who documents this footage, who obtains it under what conditions just gets to me.. Imagine following a polar bear around, for miles.

   he shits, he sleeps, he wakes up -does it all over again.  

but over the seas, and under the water.. the tape rolls.  Hours, days, weeks, years.  Trained on this poor dude, who (by the way) dies at the end.

   Dedication.

and that is what we're talking about here.

   all in all, pretty good day.  Got a deal, kicked it.. or did I have two?  actually, I think one guy came back yesterday (off) and bought it but credited me or something like that.  Not sure, but

   tomorrow might suck.

   Really.

   Two appointments, in a three hour period.. Must.Plan.Ahead.

but really,

   I should start the signing of one, and get the car prepped to be delivered.. and immediately turn over appointment #2.. and try to get a third for the last hour or so.. maybe into "O.T." and close two, get that one half on the other.. and If I could do this at two separate jobs every day.. commission even.. I might buy Corona while i'm at it.. stay for free at any hotel, and hit Solvang on the even weekends, and take only the positives, adding a little racing to the equation, adding a few pancakes in the morning, looking out a early window at all the other tourists and fake lovers of the city, all the other winners -hiding out.

 

I can't hurt you anymore

im really going to miss this face,

so in an attempt to make me happy... I plan to buy another dog.  I plan to raise them, and give them the most  gnarliest possible canine existence, ever.  Window down, head out, maybe a bong rip to the snout or two... I honestly thought that when the bunionblood story was over, when it was finally published and 'out of my system' I thought I would feel alot better, but literally the day of, the day it was finally published and first copies sent to my house was when this spiral started, and im back at it, im back smoking copious amounts of weed, and drinking.  I just feel really down, I just feel even more chained, or glued, or held down.. but its been more than a year and the words "oh boy, I can't hurt you anymore" are not true.. im still hurt, im still pouring alcohol on my cuts and blowing smoke into them, in a hope that they will feel better, in hopes that I will be someone im not, in hopes that life will just forget about all the things it's promised, when I was little, and leave me behind in the history books of this city that knew me

   im just in this mindsent right now, and maybe the passed few days.. thinking about all the historic animals of our time.. the pigeon who delivered messages in the first world war, saving thousands of troops.  The horse Alexander the Great possessed.

   I got this cat maybe 8-10 years ago, or something.  His name is Kenny.  His tail looks like it was cut off, his color is shaded, he is missing teeth, he pees constantly, and even with his annoying meow, I still think he is one of the best, most loyal and daring cats I've ever had.  He comes when I call, he likes my friends, he eats whatever... He's a true scavenger, and creative in his hunting.  Admittedly, there were some doubts when we first got him from the pound.  Sure he would run away, or fuck up another cat.. something had to go wrong, and he was a little hard to "break in", but every bit of my time, and days I thought he would never come home.. It's been worth it, because in this same mindset, I think that any beast, or animal, or whatever, anything that comes with teeth and not only shows them, but breaks skin as well... It's all worth it, in the end.

   Remember that part on Avatar?  climbing up waterfalls to claim your prize, an animal, a tool...

and you seriously need to understand that these feelings, or realizations, or revelations, or whatever.. its like having a baby.. you and the... whatever it is -have a baby in your brain, and the things you think about never leave you.. so either you add on to that, you expand it a little bit, or you leave it be -after, its up to you, but this "baby" is illegal, according to our government, and that is NO JOKE, because our government has done alot for us, alot of good.  So you need to ask yourself if serving time is worth it, because jail/prison is NO JOKE (once again)... you really take your FREEDOM for granted until you've spent a day in prison, and that shit is not worth it, trust me.  There's legal hallucinogens, though they may not be good for you..at least you can have a similar, or ball park experience until you decide to visit, and venture those vast, yet easily accessible parts of the world where said ingredients are allowed, and legal to ingest.  Work for it though, plan on it being a two year journey until it finally happens, don't obsess over the acquisition, just seriously meditate/"pray on it" and they will come to you.

   prison, and the (sometimes) negative imprint on your brain, and character just aren't worth it at times.  I know curiosity killed the cat, but it certainly wasn't a reason the cat was living for.

   Let me tell you, the deep person in your psyche can be a little overbearing at times, but if mastered it can be a world of fun.. its like the part on avatar when they climb to the top of those waterfalls and find the flying beasts, or winged things... a horse like Eclipse or Bucephalus that can easily kick you off, and into some truth you don't want to face, and not to personalize it or anything, because it might not be about you, but it'll demoralize, and cripple what you thought was true... Revealing (behind the curtain) an ultimate destiny of things, and sometimes it isn't pretty -like a postcard, sometimes -it's shit... like an LA news report.

   So get used to the idea of a spiritual, cosmic shift in the fiber of your personal history,

but keep in mind, life is part of a discovery, its an existence, so don't fear the unknown, don't fear what may or may not happen, because sometimes, rolling the dice in Vegas at three in the morning is worth it, worth it
for the next few years.. You just never know until you do it yourself.

   if it's something that makes you feel seperated from greatness, than how worth it.. how much value does "greatness" have?

do it, because theres only one shot at life, but careful you don't overstep personal boundries, because some fears are God given, and some gardens aren't worth giving up, so be careful with the fig leafs used to cover, because there will be judgement in our future, im sure of it, and some things just aren't worth knowing, so be careful what you let passed the gates of your mind, because what was warned against is actually something true, and not just in that hebrew/greek culture but in the history of mankind.. theres a reason these things are warned against, and not to be taken lightly, so if you're a tourist in some hostile city, don't bother because thatsame town might just spit you out the first day, and sometimes enemy territory just isn't worth it, and
you already know that some "victories" (in sport) are actually defeats.. just because you win one game, doesnt mean the series is yours.. and this inner beast, this consciousness may be too loud, but go for it.  You never know what a road is like until you get out of your car and walk it.    

f**k yeah times 4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LOeImx0kW4

   fuck yeah.. did you know the MSOTS album was produced by the same dude that did one of their first albums?  Listen to "come with me" and you'll see what I mean, compare it to "their" last song.  Think about it.

goodnight

all's I can say is that, well... music that didnt used to hit me as hard.. maybe It was "cheesy" "corny" "annyoing" etc.. all those songs I heard but didn't really understand, well, they're hitting me now, in a different way.  For example this Phil Collins song I've been hearing at work (lol)..well, I accidentally came across the music video on YouTube (maybe I looked it up...) has just hit me square in the jiblets.  I mean, holy shit, this dude was really singing, this dude knows some shit, and i've been wanting to go see some theater lately.. some real theatre.. like plays, and shit, but not The Crucible.. i've seen that way too many times now, not that I like it or anything, but just chance, or fate, or whatever -has forced me to sit through it too many damn times, AND IM SICK OF IT.

so im hitting the victoria gardens theater this Sunday.  You should go  

   Last night, I treated myself to a late showing of the Dark Knight Rises (third viewing).

Sometimes you just need to take yourself out on a date.  Do this once a week (my recommendation).

   Out in the cold, with foam, with what washes up...we stand facing the waves, and in silence, we stood facing the ocean as it rushes in and lifts us off our feet, pushing us towards the shore -we swim.  We swim passed the late hours, and meteors going the opposite way.  We say nothing about the passed month, or what we're doing tomorrow, or after this dip, and feeling the sand shifting beneath our feet, we say nothing about the times we let each other down, or the ignored calls we "missed."

   Nothing matters out here -feeling the waves pull your body, feeling the waves take you under the stars.  Letting go of the fear, and want to control, with her standing next to you, with her equally on the level.  It's the time in my life that I lived young, and refused to age -kicking in the water, and going with the flow, it's the times you give up, and stop doubting yourself, stop doubting your ability to move passed the fear, and into the unknown, into the place where you're taken and focused on an outcome, a need to stand and breathe the air of calm waters and miles to yourself.  Get to that place, and I'll see you there..

TGS (06)

im not sure why this is relevant, especially right now.. but I've seen this movie before.  I actually saw it in the theater when it came out... Thinking it would be something different, younger, I was disappointed, let down.. and never really gave it second thought -almost forgot I even saw it..one of those, you know?  but now, about a lifetime later, I think its pretty brilliant, see the message and try to decipher the analogies.  Find it funny, fishing, find it funny the timing.  Interesting.

   Victory, driving a chariot of two horses.  Denarius, 88BC.

"like a scared animal, rabbit.. I saw a shadow run.."

bum bum bumbum.

so I guess to do it right (if you really want my opinion, or whatever) I guess how to do it right is:  Buy them beforehand.  I'm talking three months before, at least.  Take care of the bag.. store it in different places throughout this period, and not in sunlight at all, but really.. develop a sort of.. mental relationship with them, just habiting your space.  Maybe crack open the container and smell them a little bit.  just prepare for your very soul to be invaded, and also a question of identity to be posed.. they force you to redfine yourself in a way.  It's definitely a breach of alien form,

   just be prepared to re-think the world as you know it,

and sometimes it isn't pretty.

   you'll hear sounds different, and see beautiful colors in your head, get lost in your food, if you can even
sort a process out... It's a strange relationship because sometimes you just feel retarded, and other times you're enlightened beyond all Eastern Daoist belief..functioning, in-class, driving, being around family, or at work or something.  Its truly a roll of the dice.  Whether there's a dog show on t.v., or a spiderweb in your room, you're going to have a blast, or analyze something to no end.. so I'd recommend not camping, or rock climbing in Nevada, or doing anything extreme, or balls out like that.. whether alone, or with friends THE FIRST TIME should be a little more controlled.. maybe later, but not now.. for this time, or JOURNEY or whatever.. I'd say just chill in your home, room, house or whatever, preferably with a pet near by, some good music, and... you're seriously going to cry at Spock dying, or laugh your ass off at one line for the rest of the movie.. it seriously can be a ridiculous time if you're just watching 'Ice Age' or playing the original Super Mario Brothers on 8-bit Nintendo (that game takes alot more instinct than you'd imagine. Lol) but anyways, its a make-or-break point for the next year of your life unless you're down to try it again for a new result.. but I'd say don't get crazy with it, maybe a total of five times throughout your life, and people always say to avoid a mirror, but I say go for it, a must-do even.  the mirror I mean, but if you choose not to "do" them or something, keep in mind they're really no big deal to miss out on. hope this helps...

"Somebody knows.."

anyways

sometimes when I'm typing, or plotting my next string of words.. sometimes when I look back over the artwork, and collection of images that have influenced me.. I start wondering if what i'm doing is really "worth it".. I start wondering if it really has all of me injected inside.. I wonder if one day my work, or my words, or what I publish will come back to bite me in the ass somewhere, sometime on a campaign commercial or some shit.. and funny enough, most of the politicians, and statesmen.. most of them that control the military, or control the money, or the regular people.. most of these politicians have never lived as regular people or served in the military.. Tonight, im convinced in this theatre, that we all pick a role, and try to act it the best we know how, but sometimes on this stage, I really doubt what im doing, I really doubt anyone will "get it" or feel the same, and its a tough mindset to push through, it's a tough wavelength to compete against, it's a tough volume to drown out.. All the Oceania tracks or guitar solos couldnt downplay what I feel, or the kids screaming in my neighborhood outside.. Sometimes I just feel like deleting everything, and starting over, or not even doing this shit at all, and it's all the options that kill me, it's the fact that we can only work one road at a time, because when I started working on art, when I started a sort of creative lifestyle or whatever, I had one avenue in mind:  Music.

   I can't even do that,

I feel like im on a wheel, with work, with bills, with this fucking parking ticket I got at my grandpas yesterday.. with this system of life.. I just want to quit my job and write, get stoned and play hours of guitar in a studio apartment overlooking Rome, or Vienna..some sort of place with an ancient art history, and meet thousands of people my age, and live in a world unaffected by the orange haired lunatics and freak shows.. Times like these, looking at my work and comparing it with what's going on in the world.. times like these sadden me -to think that a family can't watch a movie in peace, to think that a dream won't be a reality, no matter how bad we want it, to see the affects of aging on someone we love.  Nights like these, I hate to know whats going on, around me, and wish there was some sort of hole I could crawl into and come out with all sorts of visionary material.. dvds, LP's, paintings, novels, textbooks on subjects that don't exist, etc...

nights like these, I don't want to be me at all 

in this book I wrote:  [Doc] "Nobody remembers the hot air balloon guy, they just know those brothers' instead."  And today, I feel like that is especially true.

 

and ive never really done this, and im almost kind of scared, but ive seriously considered leaking some work, leaking some images, and maybe a couple of pages and screenshots of the work im doing on this book "Polyester".. let me think about it a little more, let me sleep on it a few times

I just couldn't take it anymore.  Wind blowing her hair, and feeling her knee touch mine.. I leaned to kiss her, but slowly, in case the unthinkable happened, in case she wanted to pull away.  And in this moment, in this second or whatever, I saw her see me, out of the corner of her eye.. this all happened so fast, but felt like a lifetime, like a paintball moment when things seem to slow down, when you're not moving fast enough, when you can't beat the other person, to the punch.. so anyways, she sees me out of the corner of her eye, and backs up maybe a half inch, just out of my careful reach.. We both crack one of those one-syllable laughs, and she tells me she can't "right now"... and sitting on the beach a little passed midnight the "glow stick juice" (inside joke) the "glow stick juice" radiating in the wet sand, as the foamy waves leave.. the glow stick juice scratching our heads, we never mention it again, and the old friends we are, we sit underneath the stars and planes that pass, making fun of her and getting some laughter, she tells me shes quitting cigarettes, and we talk about our money, our finances and debt we owe... I eat some of my protein bars and spot someone, alone, sitting on the nighttime beach in a chair and sweater, dawning a hat.. and wondering to myself who they are missing, or what in life they wish to sail back to, it hits me -without my watch or cell phone, about a mile away from my parked car.. it hits me.

It's time to go

accidents happen

   so, as your big brother in writing or some bullshit, just as the person liveblogging this project, well I can only say one thing:

maybe two things actually,

#1... Expect the unexpected
#2... Accidents happen

   Now, the difference between the two, I guess, is, well #2 is something that YOU cause.. such as an accident.. inadvertently, #1 can happen, but once again, YOU cause the accident.. unintentionally -and that shit happens, but anyways onto number one...

   A story:  Last night, I had some shit written up for my latest project "Polyester Paradigm" and had decided to hit the bar... one thing led to another, and I was unable to save this file of 2,000 plus words.. anyways, so not crying over spilled milk, living instead of dying, I chose to hit this place called chronic tacos and figure out the file once I get home... I leave the thing open.

   One thing led to another and I wake up on a lifeguard tower, still pretty drunk in Newport beach.. Theres flashlights on me, and im completely laid out on this thing.  I'm pretty sure my breath stunk, I'm pretty sure of alot of things, but anyways, I reach around for my phone and have to call my ride.. turns out, they don't pickup the phone, and im left alone on the tower with the people leaving me (finally) I see that my friend left their jacket, and shoes on the tower.. what's in one shoe?  Their phone.  great.  So I sit on the tower, sobering up, waiting for them to come back for about an hour.. Anyways, so (long story short) I get back home and it turns out that....MY FUCKING POWER WENT OUT.  All my writing for that chapter is lost forever.

   Pissed I am (in the words of Yoda) and still sad..

just expect the unexpected, shit happens, get used to it.

   smooth sailing (ha)

-gbd

ain't right

   this work has gotten so personal, and pushing; It's almost scary.

   I'm considering "[special] field trips" in honor of this project, in hopes of more inspiration, in hopes to add a few cylinders to this V8 engine.

and all I can say about THAT is we're so close in our separate work, which none of us share, we're so identical in the process and volume of creation... it's almost scary, it's almost unreal some of the things I read, and seeing the change in style, seeing the diversity of their delivery, I can't believe the proportion of creation compared to down time this must be taking.  I'm pushed to work equally as hard, without hopes of one-upping or outdoing.  I'm just thankful to have friends that own businesses, friends that push me to another level, further than what could be done, had I not been inspired, had I not seen some of their work.  It's mind boggling to me, some of the mediums of creation these gifted people do.

   so listen to music when you write, try to catch that rhythm you hear, try to emulate the timing in your words and syllables that match the solos and out of time tempos.  Retell what you hear, and see visually in the paragraphs of your thoughts, make the reader feel enveloped in this world you recreate, the world around you when you write.. try it, because we can tell when it's quiet at home, okay emily d.?

sounds good, but anyways the first 36 page draft will be out very, very..VERY fucking soon... and just like men's warehouse.. I guarantee it

apparati

   Finally at the point where I can make a checklist of all the things I need to cover, but with the addition of researching the Almanac.. I'm starting to feel as though the statement has grown longer.. the statement now has layers, and purpose, a sense of newtonistic push with a bit of asskickeryism added in.

   Yes, im listening to the Beatles, and their wild KORG solos, or whatever that keyboard is called.  The one thats been spliced all over the production of "LOVE" and littered throughout their middle catalogue..

--anyways, so im sending out little samples of the work, to people that give a fuck.  Let me know if you're one of them, ill send you a quick spiel so you can see how it's coming along.--

Trust me, its newer than the future.

Quordi Nake!!!!!!  alright.

always

Sometimes when I have a good run in billiards, I feel like I'm onto something.

   Sometimes, when I sell a few cars a day at work, I feel like I have a gift, and sometimes, staring down at my watch under a 2200 moon, I feel like I have a physical talent.  Running.  Bailing.  Letting my friends drive my car as we stop at different gas stations to buy food, to buy beer, or buy clothes for me...  I spend alot of time watching U.S. nationals on Billiard Pros, and looking at guitar tabs, thinking about how to attack the next song, thinking about how the pitch sounds through the different keys, and looking at the forks in the road, on different streets of a midnight Norco, im not sure which path to take.  I'm not sure which direction to consume myself in, because after knocking four balls consecutively into three different pockets, im not sure what I'm good at... is it school?  Is it sales?  Is it pool?  Is it a rail of coke after two pitchers of beer?  I'm not sure,

   and sitting in the morning, reading my Bible my aunt bought me.. I'm really not sure.  I'm really not sure how I match up in Robert Greene's "amoral" series, but im sure (after reading all the books) im sure I can read pretty fast, and soak up material, and express how I feel using only images.  I'm positive I can get my point across using something only so basic as silence, but picking up my transcripts and turning them in again, im sure that im not over the hurt, im not over the pierced nipples or tattoos I remember, in all my drunken sweat, and I havent been the same since we disappeared together on google, and im not the same since i've been left, but im okay and doing my best to find myself and strengthen an identity, and all the money in my bank account couldnt prove my talents, or my worth in planning to pay the raised car insurance or rising rent prices, all the money I could spend couldnt prove a thing about me or my friends...

crowning

   I guarantee that what I am writing will better a life.  Will take a sword, and put it in your pocket, so you can rally those around you, into a small army and load up in the present, springing out onto the enemy, while they sleep, while they party, and with your band of family and friends, you too will take the city back, and open the gates for a bigger group to come.

   Although im battling little sleep, and 10 hour work days, the loss of my grandma etc.. although I keep having a re-occurring dream of not doing math homework and deadlines creeping in, although I keep having nightmares that take place at school in some theme of laziness, although im battling this heat and a dying dog, I'm making it happen,

   for you.

   I'm bringing this work to life...and in the light of my tablet and amateur radio communication, I listen to the different people talk in their diverse languages -across the wavelengths in empty moonlight and dull wind.  I listen in the light, and record these conversations, (broken up by latency and microphone clicks), I listen to a very human voice sounding alien to people they've never met, to people they've never seen, and although this sort of artificial distance exists, a very naked honesty is present.  A very familiar loneliness takes root in me, and all 8 other silent listeners.

   A wanting to be heard, a need to listen.

I sit in the dark of my study room -with the world asleep, and listen back for another friend.

     A risk -only some.  A gamble?  Everything.
                           -PELICAN

comin along

dark side

did you hear us?

   Arguing.  Out front, my house, 316AM.

I tried to kiss her.  I grabbed her, pulled her close.  She fucking screamed at me, that this is how it "always starts", that I "always bail" and so we brought up some dates (thanks to facebook) she pulled out her phone as we stood in silence going through the messages...

"SEE?  February 5th, YEAH.. SEE WHAT I WROTE?  OKAY?  No.. No, don't do that to me, don't make me feel bad for this.. Im sorry for kissing you.  Okay?  It was a terrible thing of me to do, and it won't happen again."

   We argue some more, I smoke a cigarette.  I haven't smoked one since March, but here I am, two in a row as she takes the recant on a deeper level, and we get on the subject of her ex-girlfriend.. We get on the subject of sex last summer, and I tell her that she shouldnt have been rubbing my leg in that garage tonight, because two hours ago we met some random punks, out front of 7-11 and I stood off with them against some mexican dudes, so they invited us back to where they squat, or stay, or whatever.  And full of puppies, running around the drumsets and amps, we drink beer and she gazes at me, next to my hand on the couch... I see all our years, and the ticket we got together, when she had a warrant for her arrest.. I see the time she called me, too drunk to walk home from the bar, so I drove out, picked her up, and the first thing she did when she saw me was hit me in the face.  I bled underneath my eye, a little.

   She was pissed, but I said nothing, because im a fool, because she was drunk.

   She probably doesn't even remember,
but this morning her dog was licking my face, and I swatted around the bed at it, and the radio came on and I turned over to cover my ears, and it was already 1030, and I had already missed breakfast at McDonalds, and I told her she was mean, and she denied yelling at me, and I told her she was right, because she was just screaming really loud.

Could you blame me? I asked.  Rubbing her stomach and feeling her push against me.  I kinda smiled with my eyes closed, and told her she was never allowed to pee again.    

5/17 3 (squared) then add 1, & 10+2. Ha

so to be honest with you guys,

   to be truthful to everyone (I guess)  I started this blog initially to kinda...liveblog my next project, or my next book I mean, because a project, or undertaking, or whatever can be trans-media.. it can be a dvd with a 50 page book and CD for one statement, for one story... In a sense, just as LucasArts is doing.  Video games, books, CGI films, etc... Shit like that.  You get it.  Anyways, tonight


tonight I had my first "real" session for my upcoming lit. piece... its going to be at least 300 pages hopefully, story, glossary, pictures, artwork.. I can't say what else exactly, but it's going to be ASSKICKING and EDUCATIONAL..CALCULATED even...and after this, if the language is implemented correctly, YOU will be speaking like a god.  Really.

Looking over the words, over some research.. It's beginning to come together, and it's more than personal now, it's more than just my piece I guess (that's scary) it's now officially it's own ...being.  It's own balance, it's forming rationality.  This is it, i'm starting now, and next year, June... next year we'll read.

Here's to june 2013, and ill try to keep posted until then, but for now.. back to normal programming...     

Doesnt get older

   I never like anything full in the frame.  It always has to invoke the viewer, or listener, or reader to imagine the rest.  Spoon-feeding, it feels like.  Fuck that.  Try to picture the rest of this image, because I refuse to give the full thing... and music is a must.  Have to be into something, something new I havent heard that much before, to really encapsulate the experience of what im trying to show you, what im getting at, what I "create".

   That first word, or line, or expression of pathos in a collage... It feels as though I'm a surgeon or something,

and that moment after, days later -when I can metaphorically step back, and look at what i've done... When it stands the test of time, and when other people are into it.. nothing replicates the sense of belonging, or purpose, when someone sees a picture you took, of them or their family and cherish the physical rendition of a mental splice.

Here.  Now.  Forever.  Art.

just one of the reasons why I feel the way I do about it, and taking up a trans-media role in the market.  Coming soon.  

Next up: New SP release (June)

I really hope, and honestly, im not sure what deep, sentimental location this is coming from, but for the sake of all things holy and pure, sacred and innocent… I’m praying to every cosmic being possible, (passed and present) that “Oceania” does NOT suck.

   Too much rides on this one,

and classically speaking.. historically, -with some added antiquity or whatever, I honestly believe that this challenge of following up some work, (adding to a 44 track concept album, for example) I honestly believe that he’ll pull it through, that he’s had an ace up the sleeve we just havent seen, something we just never thought possible will happen, an upset in the music industry, but it’s tough to say with tracks like “F.O.L.” or “Death from Above”, “Owata” etc.. “the fellowship” was incredible… shit, American Gothicwas solid, and that was from a period AFTER zwan and all that love triangle, D.P. BS.. but really, I think the art will speak for itself as a generational representation of change, and evolution in this digital era of auto-tuned has beens and empty lyrics.. I think at this age, with Paris Hilton left behind in old album art work.. I think it will all come to pass, and upwards will be the climb from here.

   Love comes in colors I can’t deny, all that matters is love. Love your love

f**k

A beautiful creature lost it's life today...I took it...

   and although I feel somewhat horrible about the brutal "killing", I am pleased knowing my mother is safe, that she is okay and can continue to garden at her leisure.  I love her, and although I tried to preserve it's life, holding the thing back, trying to calm it down, it still persisted to cross into our territory... it threatened my mom with its teeth, it tried to bite her, it almost bit me, and even after I managed to push it out of our yard and onto the street, It charged back and made me feel "uncomfortable" so with the shovel I had, I fucken cracked it over the head and cut a deep gash into its trachea, killing it with a blunt object and watching it bleed out.  I debated giving it another whop to shorten the process, but a respectable animal deserves it's final wishes, it deserves to live as long as it can, and although I am against the harm of a wild creature, nothing will ever threaten the peace of my mom, the peace of my dog, the peace of this home.

fuck it, I took another chop and whiped its head off.  my mom bought me chinese food after

Neo-Malthusianism.

currently reading

Influence.

Fairmount Park, Riverside California.

   Fall 2011 found me here, with a backpack and food, water and a camera -side of this lake, alone and reading, reading this excerpt.  I would drive about 20 miles, to watch the sun go down here, with these words, and this experience; reading over and over:

Tom:  I didn't go to the moon, I went much further -for time is the longest distance between two places -Not long after that, I was fired for writing a poem on the lid of a shoebox.  I left Saint Louis.  I descended the steps of this fire escape for the last time, and followed from then on -in my father's footsteps, attempting to find in motion what was lost in space -I traveled around a great deal.  The cities swept about me like dead leaves, leaves that were brightly colored but torn away from the branches.  I would have stopped, but I was pursued by something.  It always came upon me unawares, taking me altogether by surprise.  Perhaps it was a familiar bit of music.  Perhaps it was only a piece of transparent glass.  -Perhaps I am walking along a street at night, in some strange city, before I have found companions.  I pass the lighted window of a shop where perfume is sold.  The window is filled with pieces of colored glass, tiny transparent bottles in delicate colors, like bits of a shattered rainbow.  Then (all at once) my sister touches my shoulder.  I turn around and look into her eyes... Oh, Laura, Laura, I tried to leave you behind me, but I am more faithful than I intended to be!  I reach for a cigarette, I cross the street, I run into the movies or a bar, I buy a drink, I speak to the nearest stranger...Anything that blow your candles out! (Laura bends over the candles.) -for nowadays the world is lit by lightning!  Blow out your candles Laura-and so goodbye. . . . 


(She blows the canldes out.) 
   (The scene dissolves)      


Tom's speech at the end of this play...

Lost Bounce

   Eyes open, and I'm awake.  That dog's barking again, (the one down my street).  Can hear it, outside the window, muffled, or behind a fence.  It's ugly, this bark, it's undisciplined, and anything triggers it.  Anything sets it off.  It's never-ending barrage of primal vocal chords just further reminds me that trying to nap, trying to get mail without someone approaching me at the mailbox, -trying to do anything on this street is fucking useless, and all my neighbors, friends and facebook people must think i'm dead, they must think I don't care, and quite honestly...

I don't.  

   This generation, I don't understand them, especially in America.  They're lost, they're confused, they're into some weird shit I just can't relate with.  Dubstep.  Raves.  Plugs, and stuffed animal backpacks.  Elmo.  Shit like that, and The Voice or Twilight or Kobe Bryant and the Lakers.  I don't understand it all, and secretly wish not to be a part of this industry, or work my way through the enterprise.  And laying there semi-sweaty, not too hungry but all the more empty, I think about how badly I would just want to get away from everyone else dying, and me and my dogs, our woodland camo hats and m21's... We would just spend the day filming viral video clips, and firing weapons at herds of running pigs, with my bug out kit, and 4WD Polaris -back at the ranch and big screen TV, Xbox live and our helicopter... We would forget about all the late people, and co-workers that call out... We could come to terms that power isn't in the people, and the media which informs you that auto-tuned rap music is the shit, and furthermore; wearing hats that resemble animal heads are cool, and that making other people happy is the way to life, and in between trigger pulls, and recoil control, we would reflect back on the Street of Old People, on the Street of Scared Community and friend's brothers being shot and killed at their front door... We would remember Club Tempo, the pool hall down the street from a house I grew up in, when kids ran the snack bar, when kids ran the basketball courts, and gas was less than two dollars.. All the young families, grilling and listening to tapes, when they seemed so happy... It makes me sick really, to think my tax dollars, (or just my currency in general) are being circulated to pay for MTV's latest hip-hop rotation, or the latest political campaign filled with lies -transmitted via tube, via "devil box" to the person brainlessly sitting there, on their hemorrhoid-ridden ass, and it hurts not to see anyone else standing up for this shit, or their dreams, or just their identity as fully-functioning, clear headed adults.  Defending themselves, cutting people short.  It's un-inspiring, this whole economy, this whole situation, so I've held onto what little inspiration I can get, and milk the words of somebody who sees this whole thing from atop a perch, and it's not about money, it's not about the kinda numbers we will never see again, it's not about sales or pie charts that remind us how successful we are -across the board, and the kinda digital capitol we search for.. it's about being successful at living your own life and inspiring others to go out and get the happiness of their choice, the meaning they find and imprint in the marks of their experience.      

   and if it were truly up to me, I'd make my living as an artist, and getting people to think, getting people to question the ideology of their lives, looking deep into how their passed has shaped them, and how it helps contribute to their little village today and hopefully, undoubtebly inspire them to multiply themselves ten-fold, get them to see that every voice matters when it's building up, when it's putting down...

                                                                          [Rasberries]
                                                                                                haha.