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...