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...