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.