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...
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
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
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
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
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.
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.
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