Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Tomorrow

"Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes in to us at midnight very clean. It's perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands, and hopes we've learned something from yesterday."

-- John Wayne, Actor

Friday, December 19, 2008

Upward Downward

I swing succulent memories from the teet of Mother Earth
Promoted dearly to the beats of a Mother's birth
I sing nearly to the peek of a recovered mirth
But I that my zings are fearing the mists of terror'd worth

Monday, November 24, 2008

In the Limelight

Grippin' the mic
and
Rippin' the stage
Sippin' on hype
But hatin' the taste
Staring back at the wall
And imaginin' the haze.
Where is my microphone?
I forgettin' the pages

The Dreams that End

I was falling. It was the same dream every night for the last 2 months. Falling. In the dark with nothing to fear but the unknown of not-knowing. I think that's what it was. And the stories that past were actually footage of my life swirling their way on either side of my head as I plummeted into the abyss. The one thing I would think about was my time I had spent in this same position. Not-knowing. Falling into the abyss yet again. And that's really how this story will end, but we'll get to that later. Now, I have to tell you about the stories that pass me as I hoped and prayed that Gravity would not do its job. As if I were projecting my own motivation onto Gravity. As if Gravity didn't care. Maybe it's as if Gravity couldn't care. Like me.

The story starts 6 months ago...

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Version

Hang myself on the hypotenuse of truth
Measure the length of a chord being played
And cut it so the silence cringes forward
Only to discover the Study of Everything will only lead you believing in the the Poetry of Everything

World's Spinning

Worlds hurdling toward the blood-curdaling scream taht seems to ring and chime the bells which hinge on teh edge to rhyme and cringe for an awfully worrisome spell.

Hot Air

Step into the sunlight and catch yourself starting at the stars that light your way through the night.
Cross over the threshold to see what sort of people you'll find on your quest to pursue the immutable.
You see others as leaves billowing in the wind
Inhaling and exhaling with the weather
Sipping on a little bit of water, you try to drown yourself in the hot air that surrounds.
But you escape unscathed.
The breeze picks up to take you away.
And she stands there picking her nose with a curious wry,
Forgetting that we are.
We breathe
Taken aback the narrator is befuddled again
Waiting on nature to find high tide so his tirade can begin
But the plants breathe too
And it's getting cold
The immutable becomes lost in its own decision to abstain
And I wonder how long I've been pondering this moment.
Only to find that it's at an end.

Dark Outside

Ninety cents as night descends
With the death of the sun
Lets the emotion set in.
This song crosses the street until the highway ends.

Leaves

Grabbin' for grapes while I whimper
To the wind I find myself hoarse
coming to a second coming and I am spinning biserk
When I hear no song
It's the rustlying of the wings
I can find my way in
But where is the source in the dark
I see the loose dirt but feel heat singe.

Radio Dials

Fiddling with the dials on my radio with such grace that I begin to think that the beutiful music is actualy coming from her fingers strumming away.
I shift my hands on teh steering wheel so my shoulder turn a little to the left.
The hum of the road captures my attention
While silence floats freely captivating our focus to turn our heads.
The road is speaking to me more than she is.
And it's telling me to keep moving forward.
Stay within the lines.
Keep a level head.
Forget the other nine.
I waft over airs of indifference so she slides her eyes over the dash to the hands that used to drive her crazy.
Now they just sit idly waiting for something to happen.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Ranting and Rhyming



So yeah.... I did this one as I was changing to go out after having done Critical Mass.

It's interesting.

I was going to edit it, but it's funner this way.

[Editor's note, January 2009: I apparently typed up what I actually said, so here it is.]


So who are you. Where do you come from? Why did you come here? Why are you saying these things that don’t make sense and don’t make me believe what you have to say?
I was once a lonely man like you. But I thought I was true. I thought I’d be blue And I thought that maybe you might tell me something that would resonate but it didn’t. And it would never resonate it would never make sense. It would never vibrate at the same point where you make repents

Given the fact that I was once an old man. Given the fact that I knew what it was like to live on cold land. I knew what it was to be another sacrificial lamb. But I thought I could be something with this new hand. It was black and it was golden, and it was white and it was shiny. Thought another time, would be deserving, but it was blinding.
It was blinding me because power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. How can you absolutely tell me that you can live without me?
Another time another place, another dream gone bad
Another time, another hate, another reason that’s been had
Hate rapes its own time.
Hate rapes
Hate hates its own miniscule existence but tries to rhyme.
How do we believe but how do we forget. And how do we ever think that we could vent? Our own little mischievous forgivings that are always understanding.
Misbelieving, disbelieving, How did I ever end up here? How did I end up grieving for my own resistance and my own time .
Thought I was the reason, but I came up shy.
Hated me once, and hated me twice.
Thought I was done but it came up to be thrice.
Forgone givings, liver splittings, Hope to God
I don’t know what I’m really rhyming.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Dig for Memories

It took me ten years to truly comprehend how TV twists and turns truths to fiction and fictions are turned into realities and realities to memories embedded within the sheet that keep us firmly cemented into temporal safe-havens that warmly cuddle and muzzle our fears from screaming, seeming to blur the lines between what binds and what reminds.

Unknown to my mind, I gratefully knock the dirt out of the holes as I dig for memories in the rain. I slosh and buckle under the pressure, measuring my own mistaken digging for a purposeful end where I’m shoveling for the future. For the enlightenment of ages to come from seeking the unknown. In the dark I see nothing but an inconsequential incontinence of a continental paradigm shift happening somewhere that momentarily moves, not mountains, but foam thrills. And with honed skills I see through the darkness with the sight left to those who have indigent sensations that float forward into a rush of air. My homeless feelings are tired of seeing itself flittering forward toward a misplaced metaphor that you can’t even shovel off the floor.

Now, back to the rain pit of despair where I dig up new earth with purpose to sink to the bottom and realize this new birth. Digging for memories through the rain that reasonably febreezes through the new seasons as the cause and effect of an unattended scene ends in a framework most undoubtedly European. Digging for memories in the dirt with nothing to pick up but lose rigor to unearth. Digging for memories at a time when I forget my own names, when I callus in the head, and when I remember the inane.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Awesome Biking Vid of Me



[I don't know about you, but you can see pure genius permeating through the little bits of footage that I presently have. Fear me.]

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Lies I Have Told People

  • I’m fine.
  • I’m not hungry.
  • I’ll do anything you want.
  • I miss you.
  • I’m not in love with you anymore.
  • I don’t want to be friends with you.
  • I love you.
  • I really enjoyed the movie.
  • I don’t need any help.
  • I’m okay with you doing whatever you want to do.
  • You’re really fun to be around.
  • You’re cute.
  • I hate my life.
  • Take your time.
  • I’m just chilling.
  • I don’t get it.
  • No, tell me more.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Revision to John Mayer's song "Gravity"

[I found this in my Google Docs trashcan. Thank God I decided to go into the trash and sift through the files. On another note, sing this to the chorus of Gravity. It kinda works. It was created and left. With a little work, I could get something pretty good out of it.]


But this gravity is grabbing me
From, oh so, very far away
And this gravity is stabbing me
To the deepest of my very heart
Of, Gravity, Gravity it won't be lettin' go
It's just this gravity telling me what I don't want to know.
Gladly we can hardly see that we have to grow.
But this gravity is grabbing me
Comin' through the window from very far,
Whispering in my ear from the very start.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Trying to stay awake, I start considering how I got to this place.
Yes another night, yet another night
Playgrounds without limits.
All alone in the dark, not remembering how I got here.
I think I want to train for a new year in January
It's frustrating not being able to see.
It's also hard to be fatigued
It's like skin crawling through mud.
So clear yet so illustrating.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Dialogue containing Philosophical Ramblings Concerning the Youth & the Future

  • What are staring at?
  • Nothing. Just staring for the hell of it.
  • Huh?
  • I don't know. I'm just talking nonsense right now.
  • What wrong, man?
  • Just a little lost right now.
  • Where are you right now?
  • Across the table from you obviously.
  • I mean, you're lost, but where are you supposed to be?
  • On the course to the future
  • Aren't you doing that now?
  • I s'pose.
  • Don't think it has to be linear.
  • But Steven Hawkins said time was like an arrow.
  • Yeah, he was wrong. Sorry.
  • [sigh]
  • Yeah, I said it. He was wrong. He has no fucking clue what he's talking about with science or doing with his life.
  • He's done a lot given his condition.
  • Yeah, but he can't drink from a water fountain.
  • Huh? That's a minor detail in the whole deal he's got going for him.
  • Yeah, well, still.. this theory of his is still ruining your life. It doesn't matter if time is an arrow. It's directional, yes, but it doesn't mean that you have to be directional.
  • I feel like I must be.
  • But you're still young.
  • I guess. It's still hard.
  • Think of it this way: your parents are the ones that have conditioned you to think you must have direction. And in the vague sense, you should. You do have more direction than you think.
  • Hmmm
  • You see... people forget about wallowing. There's so much that can be done with the wallowing.
  • But it's so much circularity with the wallowing.
  • But at least you're still alive. We're so focused on direction. This way. That way.
  • It only makes sense.
  • But only in moderation. This way. That way. Forget where you're headed. You need to worry more about the validity of whether it should exist in the first place. Just don't fall into that trap.
  • Still doesn't help with the feelings.
  • Fuck your feelings. You'll find that if you just let go, your feelings will follow.
  • Don't you think that being so carefree will hurt you in the long-run?
  • Eh. If I'm worried about it, I wouldn't be able to figure it out.
  • Hmmm. It doesn't seem to be a viable philosophy to always live like that.
  • See, I look at it this way. If I'm normally going to be guided in my life by everyone around me, it doesn't matter to me that I live a little freewheelingly.
  • Freewheelingly?
  • Yeah, whatever. I used that adverb. Anyway, my life is already more structured that I think it is. There're a lot of decisions I never have to make yet guide my life the entire time.
  • Interesting.
  • So the entire time I get to be carefree, I'm really just balancing the equation of structure on the other end. Get it?
  • I guess. It's a weird philosophy to live by.
  • It's not too weird.
  • Don't you want to get anything accomplished in your life?
  • I do, but not right now.
  • But if not now, when?
  • When I feel like it.
  • Don't you want to at least try and "fake it 'til you make it"?
  • No. Not at all. I'm perfectly happy where I am right now.
  • But you get nothing done.
  • And I'm cool with that.
  • You are an interesting character...
  • I try to be. I just figure that I'll do what I desire and wait for my destiny to show itself to me.
  • [pause] Don't you think that you have to pursue your destiny? That it's not laid out for you, but it's something that must be fought for?
  • Well, obviously I don't since I'm not doing it right now.
  • Well, think about it for a little. Let's just do it for the sake of argument.
  • Uh, okay. [short exhale] Way too much effort for something with so little potential to change my philosophy.
  • See, I know that you hate subscribing to any one philosophy or ideology, but don't I think maybe you're being too tied to the ideology of not being tied to any ideology.
  • And how's the bad?
  • Well, you're not doing what you logically see and feel is the better choice. You're doing what isn't what everyone else is doing.
  • Hmm, never thought of it that way.
  • See, not so ready now with the banter, are ya?
  • Hmm, I wouldn't start getting too chippy with me. Just give me a minute.
  • Alright.

  • [unfinished dialogue, more to come]

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

The Attractive Girl Who

She’s that type of girl that everyone asks you about; everyone has seen her and is as infatuated as you are with her. You know, that type of girl who is so attractive yet so aloof that you have spoken to her before. She laughed at your goofy, inane joke on the elevator ride to the 7th floor. She’s grinned when you’re at a party and you make some cruddy comment about how much you enjoy being a sardine at the beach-themed party. The girl is pleasant enough to smile and reward you for your effort, but, in the end, you know where your place is.

You see her closest friends are usually uglier than she is. She may have a “safe” boy who only enjoys the fact that being good friends with her will pay off in the long-run, but right now, he’ll just play her “friend”. He’s just a pussy who won’t make a move ever since the timing’s not right. These things you notice.

Also, you notice how she constantly scans the room, like someone either bored with the conversation enclosed within the circle of schizophrenic vernacular vomit or hearing her name throughout the crowd. It’s almost like the ugly girl who wants to make sure no one is judging her for the ugliness she cannot change. That scanning is how she’s been able to catch on to how much you actually ogle at her. The girl with her eyes always on the periphery.

You know that she’s nice enough to your face, but in reality, she’d never throw down with you. Yet you see the muscular douche bag guys she allows to hit on her. She takes their banter, just as aloof as any other time. You’re curious as to what is she waiting for, never having committed to any of them. And that distance she keeps between her and them always fills you with a glimmer as to the chances you have with her. She doesn’t fall for those guys, so being the nice guy would win you points.

The deal is, though, that the distance she keeps between her and the douche bags is the same distance that keeps you from approaching her. A calculation you see in her eyes. The restraint she holds in the corner of her lips as she smiles. You never see her hands flow through the air while talking to someone else. You never have seen her get caught up in her own laughter. The stare she has that loses your train of thought. A glance that warms your primal urge to chew on some animal bone. You forget about the completeness of her distance until you see her the next time. Cyclical, indeed, yet it’s nothing you can control, so you decide not to.

She becomes the type of girl that you and your buddies can only gaze at from afar as you elbow each other along the cafeteria table’s edge. Elbows sometimes overstep their bounds since a quick dart of the eyes will suffice to speak plenty. There is no snickering in the exchange, just pure awe in what God has created and allowed you to see.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Late-Night Ride

So I just rode. There was no stopping it at this point in the night. I was drunk enough that I'd actually start considering verbalizing this type of internal monologue, but I'm in control enough to keep myself from actually uttering it to anyone.
So I just rode. Wind in my hair, concrete peeling underneath, my chest thumping, my legs churning with every turn over the pedal, and whatever's usually in the city streets emptied into my head. The whoosh of the night's stillness quiets all the different voices vibrating at the same time. Unlike music, which reminds you of something else you want to forget, the night begs to be forgotten yet again. All that remains is a muted TV show you've seen many times before. I am the only man alive right now. The streets are so quiet that it's not hard to imagine that I somehow have outlasted everyone else in the eternal fight for survival, the end of the world, the nuclear apocalypse we all have pictured before. My wits are sharpened and my senses keened, I start getting excited about this accomplishment and the potential prospects for the future until I remember how the past stands there idly leaning its back against a wall with its arms crossed.
I start to think of family and friends and anything else that I've outlasted. The bright picture I've imagined a million times before now appears dulled when I start pondering all that I'll miss by not being able to ever again see anyone whom I cherish. And then I realize that I am now completely alone in this new world I've etched for myself.
Unlike any idealized version of my life that I have enjoyed visualizing, this night is so still, and I pedal to see myself as someone already moving through the darkness without anyone near him to grab onto. The worst part is that I see this because I open my eyes on purpose Being in the darkness has impaired my vision and I haven't been able to use any of my farsightedness to get me to the place I want to be.
I am alone in this new world.
So I just ride. Because there is nothing left for me to do but sleep and withdrawal from my world. I choose to keep my legs moving, hoping to find a familiar sight soon enough. Hoping: probably the best part of my defcision to keep moving through these four. Hoping: maybe I'll imagine what I see in the distance and somehow crawl my way there, reminding myself that I am not alone in the darkness.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

A Dream that I Had Last Night

I was back in Argentina, but not the one I remember. I was walking down Callao and it was not hte same Buenos Aires that I visited a long time ago. The people there recognized me all the same. No one knew me back when I visited a year ago, but, for some reason, in a city of 3 million people I was welcomed by everyone. They smiles warmly and asked me to coffee. I didn't know what to do as all the traffic and the mass of humanity slugged around me.
Night falls and I'm back in some night bar chattin' it up, telling some anecdote I've repeated, practiced, and honed for the past six months. These people listening to my story of grandeur are just eating it up. They watch my hands in awe as my voice entrances them like a great melody reminds you of your time driving through the countryside.

Monday, February 4, 2008

Hating to Stay in the Library

Do you ever feel like you're being watched? Now I'm not talking about some over-compulsive paranoia offset by a traumatic experience you had when you were in your formative years. I'm talking about actually sitting in the library and 20 feet away there's an ugly guy staring at you. See, when men look at other men who they don't know, it's all about confrontation and fighting. My ex-boyfriend used to get really aggressive and protective if another man was staring in his direction. But when a male looks at a female he doesn't know, it's about sexual desire. The man tries to possess the woman with his eyes as best as he can. If a male will not stop looking at a female, it's fine because that's the way the interaction between the sexes goes. When a male stares at another male, it's a challenge. It's weird how that works. Like, if another girl is looking at me, I don't get all angry at her staring. I just let her stare. If she has a disgusted look on her face, I enjoy inquiring in order to figure out how to be less offensive, but I don't get all catty on her.
So this ugly boy, at first it was fine. Throughout the night of studying you've exchanged a couple of glances. That was great and all, but now I'm ready to stop all this and tell him "I'm not interested in you, but I realize that you've been obsessed with me since you first saw me." And the only reason I would ever steep to saying something so egregiously egotistic is that he drunkenly told me one time at a party that he was obsessed with me and had been since he first saw me. He was hopelessly drunk by the way. I helped him out to get him back to his dorm, but, apparently, he misinterpreted the signals I've sent out.
I guess it's really my fault since I know that female smiling at a male is interpreted in only one way in a man's mind. It's weird how that works. Anyway, you look down trying to concentrate on your work and there's this douchebag staring at you. I mean, what is it that he could be looking at? Maybe he's marking his territory. I'm not even wearing anything too cute, so there's no real reason to be checking me out. How strange.
Well, it's this weight that bears down on you. It's an itch you can't scratch since to scratch would mean to admit to its existence, and this is like that far t that passes during a dinner party. Admitting to the passing would mean that everyone will stop thinking of the dinner as legitimately formal. So I never itch my scratches. I just focus on what I'm doing and hope I get 80% done so I can convince myself that I can finish the other 20% in my dorm room under my sheets, which I probably won't be able to, but I'll do it anyway.