Monthly Archives: February 2010

high fidelity

I miss her smell, and the way she tastes. It’s a mystery of human chemistry and I don’t understand it, some people, as far as their senses are concerned, just feel like home.
I really dig how she walks around. It’s like she doesn’t care how she looks or what she projects and it’s not that she doesn’t care it’s just, she’s not affected I guess, and that gives her grace.
she does this thing in bed when she can’t get to sleep, she kinda half moans and then rubs her feet together an equal number of times… it just kills me. Believe me, I mean, I could do a top five things about her that drive me crazy but it’s just your garden variety women you know, schizo stuff and that’s the kind of thing that got me here.

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Silent, Silent

I carry the weight of the world on my back. It isn’t a choice i consciously made, but something I always do. I seldom forgive myself for anything but instead I try to fix. Even when I haven’t done anything. I try to fix problems for other people before I ever worry about my own. Especially if a close friend or a loved one is in need. Am I looking to make good karma? no, but I’m sure I’ve racked up a ton of points. Through that, I discovered karma isn’t real, otherwise I wouldn’t have a slouch from the weight of the sun and moon. We always need an answer for anything we don’t understand and it’s sometimes harder to just grasp the idea that, “things happen.”

I’ll take a quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide, No alarms and no surprises. I’ll keep the soul I have right here in this record shop, right next to the blues

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Heart Skips a Beat

To some, love means nothing. To some, love is the only thing they know. To some, it doesn’t exist unless acknowledged in front of other people. The validity of love and affection, hurts no one except the two that are in love. Nobody ever said you had to walk into love; you fall into it. And no one ever said falling was painless. It normally hurts, but love is the last legal state of psychosis that puts smiles on even the most devastated faces, and warm the most arctic hearts. Even briefly, but sometimes, that brief moment can mean nothing less than the world.

People go through different partners like underwear nowadays just to find that one person they can’t expect to make you laugh with a stupid joke, or make faces and voices, or sing obscure dirty hiphop songs and speak in a different language or even speak in tongue. Just to make you feel better. Love means never having to say you’re sorry, You’re in a team. and exclusive team that only has two members. You love them not just for the things that are easy to fall in love with, everyone does that. the trick is to love all the not-so-easy to fall in love with things about them It’s the little things that matter most, the details, like ornaments on a christmas tree. it’s apart of them. If you don’t, you’d be lying everytime you said, “i love you.”

“I lost two cities, two rivers, and a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster. Even losing you, the joking voice, a gesture i loved…”

I’ve always loved this passage by Elizabeth Bishop, Bishop makes it seem as though she doesn’t mind losing all those things, she’s trying to look strong so she conveys losing things of a grand scale like cities and continents. But the joking voice was the greatest loss of all, and it kills her. I don’t think she was writing about losing a lover, but losing a good friend. But we all know that they say person you marry, should be your best friend anyway.

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Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating In Space

I’m sitting here wondering what kind of post this is going to be. I usually have a general idea on where my posts are headed. This time, however, is different.

I hope everyone had a nice Valentines Day, I know many of you hate Valentines Day, or perhaps even just the idea of Valentines Day, but the creators didn’t really think of it as a marketable day. It was just one guy or girl who just so happen to be in love, that they proposed a day to celebrate lovers across the globe. As it turns out, it was a very marketable idea. Matter of fact is, there are plenty of people in the world who have nothing against the celebration of being in love. Thats the idea. I celebrate it to, regardless of whether or not i’m in love. Love makes the world go round, and fills living everyday with an even greater purpose. without living with love, then why live at all. that’s like having a starbucks frappuccino without whipcream. You’re already sinning after all, why not take the extra step and enjoy the treat on top?

I had the pleasure of being with my babylove again the last few days. it was heaven-like even if we were so far apart. Yes we’ve had our share of problems, but we were resilient motherfuckers and got through every obstacle that rolled in our path. That’s what people in love do, they get over them together and that shows the strength of their bond. However, sometimes a line must be drawn, you can’t keep compromising and expect everything to be daisies and sunshine. She did something foolish, but this time, She couldn’t forgive herself even though I did, but there are some things that hurt us more than they hurt other people. For every selfish act, there is a consequence, for every selfless act, you already know what the consequences will be. I love her dearly and will never let her blame herself. We do things sometimes that we can’t explain, and sometimes the devil compels us. those faint of heart will succumb, and those of us who are strong, endure.

I have a birthday in a few days. I am not excited. It is utterly pointless to celebrate another year of life without those we love. I’d much rather celebrate the hallmark endorsed Valentines Day. When we got back this time, we knew something was different, we couldn’t tell what it was. And we still can’t. I suppose somewhere along the line, this was the line that had to be drawn, a few days before my birthday. I don’t want to see my birthday. I suppose this is one of those entries. One of those last ones. What does a person feel in this state of mind? What is the correct way to feel? I don’t know, but i want to feel at peace first.

This has been a nice ride, but my plans were foiled before they even got started. Frankly, I find myself thinking of the pointlessness of the upcoming annual celebration. I have two and half more days to change my mind I suppose. But it’s all too heavy on your own. Its time to rest. I hope everyone laughs everyday because that’s the next best thing besides living with love. but even my laughs are fake.

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Get to the Table on Time

i’m fresh out of wine. no more cigarettes to roll. inability to muster up a few clever words.
writing helps me think. a thousand hollow thoughts overflow my bucket of a mind. writing is the little spout at the end of the bucket that lets the water pour out gently.

my spout is busted. everything flows out at once. but i have no desire to alphabetize them.

maybe i’m confused. but even that little withered cadaver i lived through seems to have shriveled up into dust.

indolence is a sin. indolence to love. to feel or even show that you feel.

see you after this short intermission. i thought we already were in an intermission. no, it’s a prelude if anything. now the lightshow starts. watch closely, or you’ll miss the fireworks.

i don’t even know what i’m saying anymore because apparently i’ve said nothing at all. or i’ve said to much. i always ‘said too much.’ well thats what you get when you have a brain. geniuses know when to not speak. yeah, i’m a fuckwit.

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sweep the leg!

It’s hard to call someone “baby” and mean it. After about three days of flirtation, any promiscuous relationship can advance to this level. i’m a living example, and so are you. Yet the conflicting manner of this execution is not only brash and brazen, but contradicts what we ALL fight so hard to believe. I guarantee that no matter how strong you think your bond is with someone, that they’ll just as soon disavow your existence at the presence of another being that exerts interest. Don’t worry, this is normal. It happens all the time. The phrase “monogamy” and “fidelity” are as old and outdated as the term “chivalry.” The trick is, is that you have to be able to pretend to apply trust. meaning, “stop giving a fuck altogether.”

Now, I just have to say that i’m not an outdated person completely. I understand the significance of the situation that surrounds our generation, yet I will be the one first brave enough to say it out loud.\: “Your love don’t mean shit.” It’s true, blunt, and everything you need to presume global human interactions and existence. We have always been attracted to the disgusting, the filthy, the outlaws, and why is that? It’s because we have a built in impulse to seek out the ‘inanswerables,’ of life. The mysteries. The things in which we cannot explain. and when the ordeal is over, we act surprised the discoveries were disgusting, filthy, lawless. But who in the world wants to admit fault when our own bliss is wagered? We try again

Now I’ve been a completely fair and understanding person, by which i mean, taking into account the vileness of the new decade, and registering it as an evolution of mentality. Kafka would be an irrelevant belief many times over, and Freud, he’s only going to be recognized as the man who fancied his own mother and tried to justify through literary attempts. In actuality, our generation does not require too much intellect to understand. Physics say that there are simply an overabundance of human bodies in the world to ever make a decision for our own. We want to have fun, live in the moment, are young, and secretly think we’re the one person in the history of mankind with the ability to transcend time.

Reality is the thing, the creature, we fear most, and would just as easily cast it aside as if it were a removable cancerous tumor. Even cast it aside if it was the last greatest example of inherent emotion on the planet. No one wants to face it. like a person with polio in a wheelchair on the bus, Let it take it’s morals and absurdities elsewhere. Lies corrode the soul, so my question is: “who is really the one being cast aside?”

my control, my perseverance, comes from my inability to stomach dishonesty. i’m a bulimic with it. Anna Karenina.

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Dick Pics and Microbiology

That Yardbirds song, “Over, Under, Sideways, Down,” completely and accurately describes everything I’m overgoing or undergoing. Days like these leave me feeling high as a kite, but can abruptly leave me in a pool of uncomfortable sweat and anxiety. Often times, I find myself with a barely controllable urge to rip the heads off of anyone within my immediate vicinity. But I fight that urge with a smile, and sometimes they put bread in my tip jar. I suppose it’s more appealing than being put behind bars.

I’m a very spiritual person. Seemingly not, but I understand and bow with my soul to a higher being. You probably call him God, and frankly, i will too, just to avoid having too many gods to keep track of. (Like Greek Mythology, which I firmly believe was the first version of Grand Theft Auto 4) It’s a wide conception that that bearded Mofo works in mysterious ways. (I don’t say Mofo blashphemously, but he really is sometimes, and he’s hip enough to not take it to heart by now… it’s 2010.) His mysterious efforts have led me to meet two people. Now the significance of these two people, isn’t anything sexual or other, but moreso that they were bitchslap reminders of my former fiance.

I have a great sense of humor, I really do, and the only way I’ll be hurt is if you joke with something i’ve invested my heart into. besides that, I really don’t have one to invest anymore. C’est La Vie. So person one, polite, friendly, great laugh, great sense of humor. Then I discover her name is an anagram for my previous love interest. I kid you not, a flipping anagram, letter for letter. Plus she had a pending review with the school my excakes attended. Needless to say, I drank myself into oblivion because that was painfully funny. God’s sense of humor is extreme.

Now, second person I met happened the next day. I was minding my own business, putting books back to their original positions, (for those of you who trash bookstores, fuck you and your inability to alphabetize,) and this little number asks me a question. I turned on my professional face, ready to tend her literary needs, and she asks, “do you smoke?” “No,” I said, “weed turns me into a fuck tard and mild dyslexia kicks in.” It turns out, that was needlessly said, because she only wanted to bum a cigarette, but she acknowledged the sense of humor in my syntax. I had a break waiting anyway, so I left with her to the parking lot and made her a cigarette. Yes I make cigarettes. and if you’ve ever seen one of mine, you’d soil your underpants, cause they’re fucking brilliant. Conversation ensues. 10 minutes later, I drink myself into oblivion because of His sense of humor again. Turns out, she’s from the same state my Edie Sedgwick was from, and also a dancer. However, instead of passionately being spiritual, she was passionately into microbiology. Slight difference, but… not fucking slight enough.

Now, my former and I still talk. Yes we do, And I love her very much, because not only was she my dearest lover, but also my best friend. “If i could have feelings at all, I’d have them for her.” She speaks of a similar situation. She went out with this guy, who had everything in common with me. EVERYTHING, now if that isn’t a blow to my individuality, then I don’t know what is. The guy talks to her for about a week and incidentally “dick pic’ed” her. Now I’m not saying it isn’t a working method, but if you dick pic someone after about a week, it’s basically saying, “Hey, I like you, but my felt tip pen likes you a little more.” Depending on the sluttiness of the girl, she could go for it for a quick bang, although this DOES involve someone i gave an engagement band to, so thinking about it isn’t really on my list of things to do. (check previous posts for disordered lists) Even I didn’t have the courage to dick pic her, but i did send her plenty of pictures of me flexing as hard as I possibly could to hide my beer gut. speaking of beer gut, I’ve gotta get ready for work. Til next time, bitches.

So, me and my Homie have great senses of humors. the end.

some indian guy offered me 40 dollars an hour to tutor him on physiology, because somehow( I looked like a physiology expert to him. I think he just wanted to touch me. now that i think of it. 40 dollars an hour to touch me isn’t so bad.)

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Zombie Mischief

Sunlight slowly crept into my simple room. My shakey hands, covered in blood. I noticed the Pabst beers I still had in my pocket and noticed my body had arisen faster than my memory. I took another look at the blood on my hand and remembered it wasn’t blood, but corn syrup and red food dye; prop blood. I shook hands with a zombie last night at a zombie themed art exhibit. I’d always had low opinions for artists as they can be described as visual eccentrics that don’t need a reason to do anything nowadays.

However, I did notice that it wasn’t the zombie choreography breakdancing or zombies in general that were the point of last night. It’s that an entire exhibit was able to decide on a theme, and play with it. Make it fun for everyone. Like playing in a really good band. The collective conscious within the night was The Undead, and all the gory pieces on the walls followed that theme, and attempted an honest effort at keeping everyone entertained. From aformentioned Zombie Breakdancing, Contests, Giveaways, And a even a zombie model posing to have her carcass sketched. Even complimentary Sangria, was served by an undead bartender. Except yours truly had an undead brain and left his identification at home.

A respectful effort to bring art into hearts of the masses. Not every artist is a snobby tosser…i suppose… I made new undead friends as well as living ones and spent the evening with a case of pabst, guitars, zombied faces, and a correct guess to my heritage.

(I can’t believe I forgot my I.D., that exhibit would’ve been about 6 times more entertaining. However, during the Zombie impression contest, i recall shouting, “That guy’s not a zombie, he’s drunk!!”)

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Just Like Honey

list of things to do:

1) organic groceries
2) learn to ride bicycle
3)figure out why people annoy me

new list of deprecation

a) don’t
b)i’m an arsehole
c)i like laughing at children who fall down

i think i figured out why she runs from me; not because she loathes me or my existence. but she’s protecting me from hers.

new list of things to do
I) kill myself
II) fail at killing myself
III) drink and smoke cigarettes till my insides turn to mush and black
IV)realize that i’m actually quite a catch
V) realize i’m not really a catch and go with III

i think i loathe human existence not because i hate it naturally and find everything pungent and repulsive. but because i love it so much and can’t stand how nothing is in it’s right place. hmm…

(sorry to the girl in the coffee shop, you’re a very nice and charming girl. but i just wanted to save you the trouble of developing feelings for me only to find that i’ll drive you mad because my feelings are always stronger. then we’d work things out and talk about all the things we can do in the future. then argue with you some more about some guy you went to go have coffee with, who’d turn out to be your brother or some homosexual. then i’d beat myself up for reacting like an arse. then we’d work things out together, and things’ll be flowers and bunny rabbits. then while we run through the flowers and bunny rabbits, i’ll realize it’s only a matter of time before i try driving you mad again. that’s why i told you i didn’t believe in text messaging while texting someone else not realizing you were still there. that and i had a venti wine. i just wanted to read my book.)

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Call Me Romantic, Call Me What You Will

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My beard and my hair, disheveled, my mind in glorious shambles, my soul discarded. But I walk among you with more sophistication than embodied in a single fingernail you own. But decoded, and deciphered, its all pointless, you and I; the world. Without heart, this is love noir, endless ramblings of possibilities that will never be possible.

Lets make history.
why?
for fun.
for turmoil. The more we try, the more little we become. That’s why humans can kill ants, that’s why God can kill us.

I want to finish my book. I want to never be touched. I want no one to shed a tear for me. I want it to never stop raining. Because I’m an idealist. When I finish my book, I want to die. No, just implode into infinity, and never see another human again. Because we’re ugly.

I feel as if I was shown the secret of life, so many colors and minds can create, and even felt like God caressed me in his hands, then tossed my being into space to explore on my own. The thing about space is the lack of gravity, there’s no ground for which to walk, and there’s infinite darkness in its celestial walkways. But i’m immortal in space, I can feel it. But i see and walk in this reality. Trapped here. I cant tell which is the better predicament anymore.

Why was I ever tossed into this decade, and this vessel. There’s been a mistake, which department can help me sort this out? I’m an eejit, but can you transfer me?

Can I ask you something, Kittridge? If you’re dealing with a man who has crushed, shot, stabbed, and detonated five members of his own IMF team, how devastated do you think you’re gonna make him by hauling Mom and Uncle Donald down to the county courthouse?

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