Michael is alone with everyone!

Manomet as a Village

2010-07-03T12:25:00.001-07:00

If Manomet was a village in a Russian novel, the third of july would be the night all important events take place. The rest of the novel would involve recounted with different characters what happen that night and how it has affected them. Until at the end we know everything that happened to everyone and learned something about human dynamics.

Specifically if where a Tolstoy novel we would be introduced to an overwhelming amount of characters and be expected to remember each one intimately. If it where a Dostoevsky novel the morally debased character and their band of rogues would be from whitehourse and walk over to the meek heroes group in manomet beach (both beaches in manomet, separated by a rocky turbulent point)

If Manomet was a village in a Swedish novel, the third of july would the climax in the middle. Our main characters will have their dynamic moment and will sympathies with them until the epilogue. The static characters will do as expected except one that will become a main character and surprise us.

If Manomet was a village in a Southern novel, the third of july would be a metaphor stretched thin being aimed at the main characters, the town, the time in history, and its self (being a perfect representation of third of Julys in manomet). It would of course be slow and sweet, and the chapter (or probably chapters) allotted to the third, would end with a dark sky over the bon fires ambers, lit by one last firework, and something important happening in secret.

If Manomet was a village in a modern novel (contemporary, excuse me) the third of july would be the beginning and ending of the story. There would be cookie cutter romance, but a twist in the plot that makes us the readers feel dirty for being able to relate to it.

Specifically if it where a book sold at Newberry Comics or the like (like Chuck, the other Chuck, Author, ect ect) there would be a lot of swear words, and the drinking down the beach would be highlighted along with the peoples baser thoughts and actions.

Its always in the back, like the cool kids of the bus

2009-10-04T19:17:00.000-07:00

I thought about you

As I do

As people do, about the ones that got away,

the ones that they are reminded about in Bob Dylan songs

But it went a little more vivid then the thoughts

I could feel your jeans, tight to your thighs, the skin underneath them,

after taking the jeans off

Your laugh when you understood, the meaning of what I was articulating

The easy stare into nothing, as you kept your hands busy,

until I come and hold them

I thought about you

Fondly in this, detailed way, with pictures online to aid me

And it hit into my gut

You slapped me in the face once, and now that memory is what appears

my skin singed from the hit, cause in this ample amount of vividness

that hit, was hard

And all I can do is write this, awful piece

This trite work that only hurts me more, and makes me feel so talentless

And useless

I cant talk to you anymore, I don't think

It isn't aloud anymore, right?

I once wrote one of my shortest and favorite pieces about you,

well, staring you

And now your in this calamity of a plea,

despicable representation of writing,

accurate portrayal of me

You cant break my heart, or any cliche of that matter

Ive told you, Im not as weak as you think, as the other boys who have loved you were

But you are a queen in my thoughts

To you I am merely a fictional character, of a book you read from time to time,

maybe to keep up with, I don't know anymore

I am a ghost that haunts, unaware of his dimensional situation

I like to end with lies, lies to myself,

cause thats what keeps the hopeless hoping,

Maybe someday, I will see you again, and you will realize,

I am real

Lessons from Braking up a wedding

2009-08-06T11:59:00.000-07:00

-Yes, being drunk was necessary

-If all goes according to plan, only the person you stole from the altar will be on your side

-Setting off sprinklers in a church, although very epic, is a criminal offense

-If you ask anyone to help you, they will back out the day before

-Take the abuse, but dont fight back, get out of there (I was lucky to have a cast as a weapon)

-Believe in nothing

-Be prepared to have not have a committed relationship with the person after for two reasons

1. They just escaped from matrimony, that ceremony is the edge of entrapment

2. You peek with that night of passion, its all mundane after that

-Embrace the cliche, you cant escape it

-Look good

-Tell people before you do it, who have nothing to do with it, so you have to commit

-You will feel bad for the other person

-Make sure there is photographers (I mean who doesnt have photographers at their wedding, i am kind of pissed)

-Have a location to go after, wondering around aimlessly effects your nerves

Favorite Cartoonist if you didnt know

2009-07-02T10:23:00.000-07:00

Rereading (bad habit)

2009-06-21T19:15:00.000-07:00

Shatov went trudging after her and soon married her in Geneva. They lived together for about three weeks, and then parted as free people not bound by anything; also, of course, because of poverty. - Demons or The Possessed depending on the translator

Islands Float

2009-06-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

I dont have any bridges, now do I?

Commenting this to my sleeve

wearing it, on it,

next to the cliché phrase.

And with out these bridges,

I wade threw the water

up to your shores

or theirs, who cares how you put it,

"somebody's"

And though I must seem like an ocean,

from your landlocked entities,

thats just my front, the barrier.

And while others shut them selves off

from one another.

Making plans and actions final.

I watch their safe walk ways, go up in flames,

from island in the middle, or out there

somewhere.

Knowing I can just wade in the water

to get anywhere.

New or old

Timing

2009-06-04T18:06:00.000-07:00

My twitter is full of posts relating how my Ipod has the uncanny ability to play a song (when set to random) the embraces the utter essence of where ever I am and what ever I am felling at that moment. It happens quite a lot and always at key points of my day or week.

Now my posts have all been brief. They consist of merely explaining "Right now, my ipod did that again" and maybe quoting a line like "If we can call them friends, then we can call them on the phone"

I wanted to explain a little more in depth on todays, for some reason. Its no stronger connection to my thoughts then usual. It wasn't during an emotionally import day that I needed to empress. In fact its a mundane example. But non the less I felt an urge. I can control my urges, but sometimes it seems like its going to feel so good.

I was riding my bike for a while and coming close to the end of my trip. Heading down 3a (state road) I noticed there was an awful lot of dead animals on the road. Not just road kill either, like raccoons and possums, though there was a fair share of those. The thing that got my attention the most were the amount of dead birds. They were scattered about and didnt seem to be injured. It was as if they just fell over wile searching for worms on the grass next to the road. I couldn't shake it. Tired as i was though, I couldnt come up with any theories, just noticed it, and thought about it. Then Fionn Regan came on, and I thought about how his tone fits plymouths tone perfectly, well to me it does. The context doesnt always fit, but most of the time it does, but thats not important, the tone, the tone for this town. As I ran this threw, just about to push out the plague of dead birds running threw my head, hear is what Fionn whispered to me.

"The skeletal wings of birds, I'll take the stairs
The ghosts of tiny animals, with the tiniest of feet
The forecast is going down, a storm"

Thank you Ipod, for picking the perfect song. Thank you Fionn, for the perfect tone.

Air Guitar

2009-05-29T16:58:00.000-07:00

Just a taste of my night of rockdom

Firm Conclusion

2009-05-06T22:28:00.000-07:00

I am a character in a novel
that no one reads in its entirety
just a chapter or two

but dont I resonate
for just a little while

top 8

2009-04-28T20:09:00.000-07:00

We pretend were best friends
known each other for years
well, thats the feeling we exude.

Its not for our selves
to feel at ease
the few times we, interact

Its for the people who've claimed us
if we are theirs now
then no new people, are aloud

But those who love
in an open hearted way
loving all, for some reason or other

Those who are deamed whores
or flirts depending on
what they got away with, or caught with

They will always apreaciat another
finding beuaty and excepting kindness
from any character, who allows such things

So we pretend were old and dear to each other
this facade manifesting into truth
we become, dear to each other

Bike rides in the dark

2009-04-21T19:58:00.001-07:00

This is a silly one. But I was riding down the pine hills at 1am a little drunk and defying the world. so eh.

A firm decent
almost as dark as having closed eyes
wind is such a bully

the final curve
to that steepest straight away
was an all or nothing

Ive lived hard
now its tim to be firm

I dont need to see
it all goes by so fast anyways

If I go fast enough
the wind will only cause tears

Oh shit now im at the bottom
with the smell of burnt rubber and the thrill gone
at least i can hold this over those who havnt

Tea Bee

2009-04-05T21:31:00.000-07:00

With blood shot eyes and sunken cheeks
I tighten the vest I wore to commemorate
my degenerate heros

The party was not impressed
when they saw my red stained hanky
receive new speckles from my coughing fit
caused by laughter, at my own joke

"No im not ok! I am an artist, a poet, cant you see my hanky"
Shaking it in their faces, drawing it back quick
to catch my good humor, and add to my costume
Its a good thing I brought my own whisky to the party

"He looks mad"
"Yeah, but kind of good too, is that weird?"
I over hear, as I slump past the crowd

If my body cant keep up
then let me chest cave in
dispel the weak jeans I must bare
put them on display in my clenched fist

I will not stop singing, no matter the lack of air
Dancing will bring me to my knees, but I am not bowing
blame living in night, for the lack of color in my skin
Whisky will be my disorient, not this week-long fever

No story will come from lying in bed
"Even the butterfly knows how to die in the sun.."
"Dying Pretty, is living well.."

Drunk texts, hard times, hold the minute hand please

2009-03-29T08:19:00.000-07:00

She told me she loved me
and that she doesnt want things to change.
So she will continue to sleep
in the bed with her ex.

Nothing goes on
except late night texts to me
"Il be right overs"
or
"See you soons"
a constant and a plenty
next to her old partner
that doesnt want to be woken up
with such things from her.

So nothings going to change
that world would be nice.
But right when that comment is said
I buckle down for the future.
Pull that strap to the furthest hole.
"This is going to hurt a lot"
but she didnt here me
cause for her
nothing is going to change.

No body I know has the "Fuck"

2009-03-26T10:18:00.000-07:00

Two bottles, one in each pocket
Its a little excessive, but so is this party

Three sets of eyes, independently fixated
on me, or who I appear to be
who they want to be, who id rather be

Four hours, one bottle gone
Ive talked to each pair of eyes, they listened
they fallow me, too each other pair
and have a goal for the night, fixation is their fix

Five rooms, and the whiskeys all gone
whispers in ears, sending chills threw the kitchen
tungs dance around, a show to be seen in the den
half dressed sex, doors being knocked on in the bathroom
what to do, with the other two rooms

Six beers, that arnt mine but i drank
becoming the theme, for this night at-least
the crowd swells, my blood is flushed
standing still, it feels like i am dancing
the eyes come in and out, hoping for more
drunk and defeated in victory, I swoon away

One disappeared romantic, from the party of realist

Silent bombs and ashtrays

2009-03-22T11:40:00.000-07:00

Ive been working on a frankness
that teeters from my tung
But these days are loud
and I have no song to be sung
So I tuck it in, bite it as it were
my mouth bleeds, sure
but there is nothing to be done
if i cant sing, ill gargle and swallow
putting back that blood into my lung
And you will see me smile
see me shake your hand and wink
tell all my truths, rejoice and have a ball
being frank as i can, who isn't me at all

Have you seen plymouth?

2009-03-22T11:35:00.000-07:00

A view from cemetery hill. Bored in the winter by michael lovely

The Englishs

2009-03-17T17:03:00.000-07:00

Ive wanted to write a story about my mums family for a while. Theres so much to be done. A perfect example of Irish catholic, there are thirteen kids. Her mother died when my mum was 9. A tragic death as well. Alcoholism and other issues galore. People leaving and coming back, being thrown out and saving their expellers later. Nuns, poets, musicians, mad men, army men, and three homosexuals. The house (that ilive in) burnt down and they rebuilt it. The only thing remaining was the chimney a priest built in the late 1800s out of stones from around the world. The ocean and right down the street, down a bluff, down the stairs they built. The neighbors always have been the same. Their last name is English for goodness sake. And my mums father, some what of a tirentical (god i cant spell that) figure, was deemed "Bumpa" The eldest is a giant (6'5) with a laugh that shakes the house. The youngest, my mum, a meek creature who rebelled, secretly, and payed for it by having me. Poverty was a constant. And most everyone in the family fears money. Theres a story for every generation, and they all can interweave with each other. Each sybling wout have their motif, or two. Mum would definitely have angels some how. She loves angels.

But i probably wont ever write it. Like ive mentioned here before and to some people in life, Im not a strong enough writer for long form narrative. I can do the story justice. And it makes me so sad because i see it perfectly. Maybe ill begin working on it.. maybe.

Anyway, Im pretty sure I know how to end the book.
The day before Bumpa (lester is his real name) died my Mum sat with him. They watched all my children together, something that her mother got her and all the other kids into. Bumpa never cared for it, but lying, sick on his chair in his old age, he found himself watching it with his youngest daughter. The one he was most distant from and had made the most resentful of him. There was no conversation. They just sat, and watched. When it was over my mum got up to leave. Walking out the front door, which is in the tv room, she turned to Bumpa, his eyes were already closed.
"Bye. I love you dad"
"Yes dear"

Hypothetical

2009-03-10T20:26:00.000-07:00

Thats all it seems I am good for. I get praised for a lot. Girls tell me how, perfect I am, what it be like to be with me, how I am better then everyone else they have ever considered.

I cant count how many how said "You can just live in bed" and half of those who have said promised money to ensure I was able to stay. You know, pay my bills at least.

But it never comes to fruition. I am a pipe dream. I am a ghost of a handsome gentleman. Being haunted by me is attractive at first. But the idea of spirit lying next to you is frightening after a while.

So they leave. The get to escape with the thoughts of what would of been. Awake from a beautiful dream, feeling better for it in the morning. But I am what happens to that beautiful dream after you leave. Since it was your dream, it revolved around you. Being gone it crumbles and I am left wondering around the desolate remains.

I have been loved by many. But a shallow love, in the sense of a tide pool. They only get their feet wet. If people take a piece of you when they love you, and that piece is measured by the depth of that love, then i am being picked apart. Now its not fatal. Love is re-genitive and infinite. But I am getting close to the bone for now.

Look at me, someone who has gone into so many Nihilistic rants, now expressing the infiniteness of love. The jading of women who tell those lies that no one can be blamed for. The hypothetical promises that raise such hope. I guess I am a hypocrite for giving Nietzsche (that near nihilist that made me realize Im not a nihilist, cause i am such a nihilist) giving him shit for being a sexist and that being his weakness in writing.

Rant Rant. Also this song came on random when i was writing this. It felt kind of fitting. And ive always loved it.

On my way

2009-03-03T19:45:00.000-08:00

Ive never been to her place,
laid in her bed, and teased her about talking tough.
Figure out which side i was aloud to have, and stumble
searching for a bathroom in a unfamiliar hall

Ive never been to her place, cause
well, cause she still sleeps with her past
He lays heavy next to her at night
allowing her to look, and even sleep next to the future
Stumble down my dark hallways,
put her feet on my walls to press
well enough against me, that my arms sling over
like a latch

But talking to your past at night,
its dark and you have to feel for his features
to make sure the familiarity doesn't leave
I know, ive lived it too

So ive never been to her place
I dont know the route, the one she's on now
heading over at three am
Probably waited till her past fell asleep

Ive never been to her place
and I probably never will
But the past, he's a good man
and i was a little over zelouse calling myself future
Im present, bearing no weight in my bed
Lightest of all times to consider
Enjoyable at the time, when at the time is all
you can want or handle
Easily forgotten, and handled with out concepts of consequences

Ive never been to her place
She's been over to mine, many times
But will always go back to hers
to greet her past in the morning
and tuck him in at night
Tell him stories of the present,
how he'll never be anything like the past

Ive never been to her place
and thats how it should be
thats how it is
the present will be fine, remember
I am with out concepts of consequence
lightest of all times to consider
how could that ever get hurt?

Another desolate palms

2009-03-02T17:36:00.000-08:00

Dressed up, desert it pretty
there has been a knee drop for every door open.
Blushed cheeks, when bright eyes adverted
the flu tries to spread from mouth to mouth
considering time allotted, immunities stand no chance
one hot, one cold
its always the fever leaving careless lovers
Settle down, claim it ugly
its both knees down and hands clenched together now
speak frank, turn truths agoraphobic
familiarity distorting old concepts of handsome
Proposal to prayer
One knee to both
Love of the sick
you will martyr their fever

outsest

2009-02-10T20:05:00.000-08:00

That single mother
not the one who raised me.

The one I have been secretly in love with
since the hight of my adolescence, 15
Since the night of the only school dance i ever attended
were the former single mother mentioned
drove the later home
because she made it there with out a way to get home
on a whim, with out a plan
little did i know
staring back at her threw the mirror the whole ride
that would be "just like her"

That single mother
after eight years of a desperate want,
six years of exponentially intimate texts
compliments thrown back and forth, passed time zones,
two years of when, when
please tell make it now,
four months of putting it off
fear of a climax, an outcome, an answer,
and one night at a party
of deep gazes, light touches,
and a light headiness that
vertigo cant ever compete with

That single mother
is my valentine this year

You cant kill time, it doesnt exist

2009-02-10T14:11:00.001-08:00

Its an hour before work,
that menial desolation of faces consuming,
farcing about and talking loudly
making me envious of rest

Its an hour before that
and i am spending that hour
dancing on ice.

At the waterfront
watching the few fishermen
take advantage of this brisk, but
invigorating day,
I slide from foot to foot
yard by yard
to the music in my ears.

Some band explaining an emotion
that doesn't fit with here and now
or even then,
but the sound is sympathetic
to my mood.

My smile is genuine and stuck
in its position by the the nip in the air.

"Fuck you plymouth, for being so,
so fucking beautiful"
I think and continue to
dance on ice.

It is firm
but i can feel the waves below.

This isn't about the danger
of being on ice
at this time
I feel no danger.

It's about that.

A whole months worth, life's worth
of things that would of murdered
someone who wasn't indestructible.

But here I am
dancing on ice
cursing beauty.

The pants i wear

2009-02-05T09:18:00.001-08:00

We grew fat in that apartment to small to hold us
One room and our clutter
Forcing us to never stop touching, as a necessity

We moved to bigger apartments
Growing a part with the space
Getting skinny, trying to find each other

I still wear her pants, and shirts
The ones I took after we lost the weight
After we moved into places, with out each other

I hardly think of them as hers anymore
But then I look down
And remember that they are, I was

From every night
To once a month, maybe

From, don’t leave
To, hey how you doing

Ive grown skinny, and fit in your cloths
You’ve grown up, and fit in the world

Plenty have tried to live in small houses with me
And she's had one or two herr self
But we know it only works, when it works

Thanks for the jeans and t-shirts.

Just delaying

2009-02-03T16:19:00.000-08:00

So i have been writing a lot. But not posting. So maybe im just really into my self right now or something.

This winter is pretty bad. Its actually worse then last years. So if its true what they say and it happens in three next winter will be the worse. But shit like thats stupid. My writings kind of course in this, Im probably spent from all my other writing projects.

Living in plymouth is awful. I miss the city, any city. Im waiting on a job at this production studio that i feel like will never happen. I am paying about 700 a month in bills not including the money im giving my mum to help them keep the house (I call it rent for now) Ive been yelled at a couple times already for being to loud during sex, which is great when its your mum yelling at you for that.

If the studio doesnt work out i dont know what im doing... My dad is thinking about opening a restaurant/bar venue in atlanta. I may just go down and be his partner. Im quit skeptical of ATL but what else am I going to do... Oh, i may save up for a year and get my bikram certificate. I doubt i can save that much though with the bills the way they are now.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Ive been eating free indian food lately at-least. Except working there is slowly killing me. Jeff and Josh are at school. And most people here are boring...

blah.

One of my top 5 favorite bands

2009-01-09T12:03:00.001-08:00

I have something coming

2009-01-07T11:03:00.000-08:00

So I found a man dying underneath a car.
Took him to the hospital.
Waited for about 15 minutes.
He died. The doctors wouldn't really explain how.

Ill probably write something about it. It shook me a bit.
Going to the funeral tomorrow.
I dont know how I feel about funerals.

On the lighter side today I didnt have to pain houses.
So I woke up with my sister and brother and got them on the bus.
My sister brought out a bunch of paintings drawing and writings she has done.
I spent 4 hours looking them over.
I am so impressed with her.
I dont know weather to just let her be and have her continue in her own experiences.
Or sit and talk with her. Im worried about my own influence. She is already way more talented then I.

Any suggestions.

It seems like a response because its not

2009-01-06T08:09:00.000-08:00

This isn’t a poem

Right?
I mean, im just another ego induced
self proclaimed writer.
I have no value to you.
every thing you wrote, said, motioned
about how you felt in what I did, made, cared about
or didn’t
It was a lie. But you knew it then
so why fret so hard now?

Is it because with every change of your mind
is a new rant to explain thusly?
every new person in you’re life
someone to love
love long enough to extract a character
then get hurt, or left
and live
“I never cared never cared. They weren’t what I wanted,
I was just teasing them, plying my mark. I am alone alone alone.
But listen to my new batch of soul mates”

You know I don’t believe in souls
I don’t believe in anything
it must be hard to talk to me.

I sound bitter
but Im not
im only concerned with myself
right?

You don’t even read this
anyways
right? I exhaust myself
like you
with bad, great, and mediocre writing
touching trueths, lies, but never
others.

Only our selfs.

Well, I guess myself
you have the immature crowd
that word always seems so nasty, I don’t want it to
and they are more apt to the screen
keeping up on anything created.
I am to
but that’s because of your talents.
Im talented to, and didn’t erase that
And never have been so proud of myself

This is not a poem though
Right?
cause I am not a writer
just someone for a list
someone to read, yours not mine, no one reads this
a good story, bad story, depending on when your fist
hits keys

Im old and young
Bold and timid
Amazing and just another
The only truth and always a liar
A perfect set of arms that will never close
A fit
A child
A dammed broken hope
Something to never travel for
Unless there’s no were to go i guess.

I am more
I know
I am less of course
“Life is the art that you make”

New character

2009-01-04T10:49:00.001-08:00

He holds his quarter
Squeezing it real tight, before it goes away forever
‘Im the last person to not have a cell phone”

He spoke it into the receiver
He hasn’t used the quarter though,
So who was there to listen

-I will prob add a lot more to this. Or even make him a character in another attempt at narrative. But for now I like this.

There was me, there was them.

2009-01-03T00:22:00.001-08:00

There was the one who I have loved
and always will love.

There was the sad one who would come in and out of my life
as much as I would cum in and out of her

There was the older Russian that wasn’t a “fucking lesbian”
and disappeared after she got what she wanted.

There was the lipstick lesbian
trying something new

There was the one who loved me right away
who actually didn’t become one due to that.

There was the one who didn’t want to
then again underneath it all, vodka told the truth.

There was the one who was famous for doing grotesque things online
but with me it was all gentle touches.

There was the one who managed my building
who I can only describe as a beautiful sad Ukrainian angel.

There was the one I chased and loved the game
and she gave me her mouth as a consolation.

There was the one who asked “how many of my friends have you slept with”
after being number five of her friends.

There was the ex stripper with the most amazing personality
that would appreciate being held more then anyone else

There was the one I lived with
then we would only joke about it to each other.

There was the one I don’t remember

There was the one that doesn’t remember
but I wish she did.

There was the Irish friend trying something new in the states,
I only held one as we slept afterwards.

There was the best friend of the one I loved,
that’s probably the saddest of the stories.

There was the one that disgusted me at first sight
and it only got worst from there

There was the one who traveled on a whim across the country,
I traveled back her direction, but was going to do it anyways.

There was the one with the annoying voice
that did amazing things with what that voice came out of.

There was the one I always had adventures with
we don’t know what happened, maybe she does and isn’t telling me.

There was the one that nothing wrong happened with,
its probably a good thing I moved from that.

There was the friend I’ve wanted to save for two years
who became just another one.

There was the one that was the only one around
and is so hard to get away from.

There was the ones not worth mentioning
also the ones I don’t want to mention.

There was me who fucked up in 2008
and by the looks of this, they must have too.

Old Friends

2008-12-10T11:57:00.000-08:00

Se said

"Did you do that your self?"
and motioned to the cuts
on your upper thighs

"Yes"
You didn't look them
you know were they are

"It's a beautiful design"
She road off on her bike
you looked at me

"Thats the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me"

I've never wanted to kiss you more.

In so many words

2008-12-02T13:44:00.001-08:00

“So lets make tonight the night we press hard against each other.”
He leans over on the bar like a sailor,
he’s only drunk looking for stability,
but he comes off as cool as an ocean breeze, which
he’s never felt.

“Your in rare form.”
She squeezes her delicate long legs together in excitement

“There’s no such thing as rare, there’s only new”
the language is awkward to him
proliferation threw boozes obliteration he thinks for second

“Yeah?”

“I’m… living life in epiphanies now.”
She leans back hard, sucks in,
and breaths out decisions .

“You should press hard against Taylor”
He puts both elbows on the bar,
ocean breeze to a Midwest jet-stream in one motion.

“Id be upset if it wasn’t for your hesitation,
are you testing this out”
Her porcelain hands grips his arm with peculiar strength.

“Its just, I’m beautiful and she’s a bit… haggard. So you men all go after me, first at least, so I’m sending you her way, to make her feel chosen and lessen the tension of resentment”
He smirks and looks at her in the eyes.

“Fine, but its your touch ill be thinking about, this white hand on my tan arm”
She grips tighter, he slides away.

“Were are you going?”

Facing the door the back of his head says
“My bed. See you there”

The door closes. Chatter continues. Eyes fallow delicate legs as they stroll out the door.
As well.

They must not be into arts

2008-12-02T10:51:00.001-08:00

They say you cant fake genuine
“They” must not be into the arts.

Her pink and blues cascading under those earthy tones
Used to terrify me.
Sitting on the vintage couch, staring at her ugly work
That made her seem so gorgeous.

Arts are stories, feelings… audio, visual…
Stop defining art please

She would call crying
All the tine
And there would be some problem created
Something that seemed blind to all but her
And she made you
believe it bothered her

Having the qualities or value claimed
I don’t even want to tell you the third definition given

Now that walls up
And its only pink and blue
With belligerent head shake she gives an answer in a question
“What did you think we were?”

Now Ive done it to, and will do it again.
The difference I can’t articulate

When I do it, my art sustains
Their meanings insinuate, what they intended
That’s the best anyone can do
Given humans perception and judgment

Hers do to I guess,
Cause they never meant to insinuate anything at all.
That’s just our perception
My judgment

They say you cant fake genuine
“They” must not be into the arts.

Starting winters warmth

2008-12-02T10:20:00.000-08:00

Its winter and I will be stuck inside a lot. Since moving home I have written a lot. Why am I using a lot a lot? anyways I wil soon be posting some of my stuff. I dont think anyone reads this ever, but its not about that now is it.

Well this first edition will be an exercise I came up with (though im sure some poetry teacher at Brown or somewhere has many years ago)

As you read (if your reading) you will understand what the exercise in-tales.

I write short poems because
Long ones would need a theme
Or a point
I don’t use to many good ideas in one poem
What if I run out,
What will the next poem
Do?
I always start freestyle and never edit
I have more faith in my spontaneity
Then my though process
Im obsessed with nautical themes – metaphors
Boats, ocean, sailors, waves, ect. ect.
Im paranoid I cant write anything as good as my old stuff
Which never was that great.
I have no clear voice
Yes I do
Do I?
I dwell about my influences
I want everyone to read what I write
Until its in their hands
I sometimes think using the computer is cheating,
But I get terrified I wont be able to read my handwriting,
Or translate my misspellings later from my notebook
I don’t want my characters to be
Me
But dialog is usually conversations to myself
I sometimes waste my good stuff in texts
And never save them
(this poem will never be done)

Saint Bonnies

2008-11-19T21:20:00.001-08:00

I live down the street from a church
A Catholic church, if that matters
Its nickname is Saint Bonnies, at least in our parts we nick name it thus
I use it as a direction to get to my house

Pass Luke’s super Liquors, and coming up on your right Is saint bonnies. Take a left on the street across from it, im the second house on the right.

So when I tell you to get to my house I use two landmarks that house,
Well that house two pretty conmen vices

You have to cross a major street to get to the church
I prefer it this way
I was walking on my side of the street, heading home from drinking
No one really walks home in this town, especially on a cold night like this particular one
It must have been late because I only looked up when cars would pass,
The lights would catch my eyes, and I wasn’t looking up much.
Coming to the left I should take, my head went right
The church lights were on
Standing still, that drunk still that is actually moving with the world,
I watched as people paced by the windows, slow, but happy,
If you can pace in a happy manor
What were they doing at church this late
Was it late
I don’t know how long I stared at them, or it
But my noise was running and hands turned red
That red that reminds you that you need blood to move
Now I was drunk on wine, so I should have plenty of his blood left in me
I wish that were true, that he were true
I wish I could pace in my house, happy

Im moving

2008-10-15T15:28:00.000-07:00

To Plymouth MASS. It is were the pilgrims landed, and were I grew up.
I thought that it may have some consequence for this blog. I realized I only write bad poems and weird verses here anyways. Plus if there is any story of me in here, its not a regional one. It just happened to have started in this region. This desolate, flat, naive region. It just goes to show you, you can put a city anywhere and it will be decent. But I dont want decent. It wasnt really a choice to move back home. But thinking about it, overall, the town of plymouth, beats out the city of chicago. I would go in to detail, but youd only agree if you were me, and even i dont fully agree. But i do. There is a not that could be a sure as long as you untie it? ha. Get it?

Anyways, heres were I lived (will live again) .

Lets call this a war

2008-06-03T11:48:00.001-07:00

Lets call this a war. The expanse between us, and ultimately our mysterious charisma amid one another. I know war seems harsh. It involves the death of naive children, anguish of those who are immediately to lose, orphans and widows, obscure justifications, and yet another thing to make romantic romance and lovers lose. They always lose, like in war.
That’s were our war has brought us. We only have distance and vagueness, but committing to ink and paper I feel the bomb shells hit. I am in the trenches, writing my heart out to a hope, a hope that there is something, someone out there. I write in spurts, firing at the enemy, killing, in between each thought out word. If this is all you have of me I want it to be beautiful… Picturesque to the best of my ability.
The truth is this war has haggard me. I should have died long ago, but medics are persistent. We hold true to our jobs, cause that’s all we have out here. If were not good at that, then let us die. Give us to the enemy, who will feed us. To just believe the falseness they believe, rather then our own falseness. No one has it right. Were all just throwing stones in the dark, listing to the splashes in the pound.
“My splash was first, and said I must annihilate you for your slightly threatening differences.”
“Well my splash came after yours and told me your splash was wrong. There for I will defend myself in the name of my splash”
I feel defeated and wrong. But I go on, because I have this letter, tucked into my helmet, that I must mail. I don’t want to think in terms of “I will never see you” All though odds are this war will kill me, despite how strong I am. I don’t want you to think in terms of “What if he made it, what would be different” I want it to be clear that I was writing a letter, dedicating it to you. All along.

Just a hi and you leave?

2008-03-10T00:58:00.000-07:00

Days blend together, that happens all the time, to all of us
But sometimes people represent those days
Features becoming, so obnoxiously fucking similar, to all of us
But thats how people are these days
No time to embrace, or cherish it, what new people are
"Hold me down as you tell me your story"
Lines said with arrogance, a coy play to keep me, for the moment
Its hard to matter for only a moment
Invest for the second, running down grass hills, watch your shins
Everyones planted their rocks for you
Your new day is old, and the day before young, todays nothing special
Stop bringing it breakfast in bed
Stop letting go all you know, every-story and weakens, to all of us
These days don't want to here it.

"How you feeling Michael?"
"Used"
"I meant are you hung over, you frank a lot by the looks of it in here. You have more beer bottle then furniture. Who came over?"
"A new face"
"Oh! A pretty face?"
"Gorgeous"
"Well then being used wasn't such a bad thing now was it?"
"If it was the first time, maybe not, but every hang over is getting a little worse, you know?"
"Nope. Call me old fashioned but this is what being young's all about."
"What? Drink this, stick this, "your so strong, so strong" "stay and cuddle" "No instead i will be elusive until nxt, if i want a next time" Drink that, sleep here, sulk there"
"Just enjoy the ride man. You think a headaches going stop a wino from drinking?"
"If the headache builds him up to not be worthless only to prove his original thought thousand full"
"We are all worthless, deal with it. Join the game and break hearts back."
"No ones breaking my heart. Just scratching at the surface, with gloves. They want the joy of toying with out the mess. Practice maybe, i dont know"
"At least your a worthy target"
"I walk towards their yellow vest, gluten for the maybe, maybe the guns will go down"
"Well you admit it, you parade yourself in front of them, saying "fire at me, but dont hit me, come love me" Well they get tired of shooting at a target they cant hit. EIther take the bullet or fire back. But drink a lot first, just not alone"
"Thats the my point "just not alone"

They can and wont

2008-02-29T01:04:00.000-08:00

I wrote about a thirty lines of a poem. I erased it when I was finished. I have gotten into the habit of that lately. Destroying what I create. I dont like my writing anymore.. I used to like my poems. I knew they werent anything great, but they made me happy.

I will like them again. But right now we are fight.

"You dont do what we used to do anymore. Is it me?"

"Of course not. Its me. I just cant, keep up. I hate disappointing you."

"You never disappoint me. So really, you are just disappointing your self. I feel awful that I bring that out in you."

"Please dont take this on your self. I just.."

"Why not? You do."

"I know. I take it all on, and then we do, what we do. But doesn't that get so tiresome?"

"With out us doing what we do, i dont exist"

"Not true. There is always what we did. And well, this."

"True. But this is usually all alone, up in your world, never to be seen. All day"

"Does it have to be seen for you to be happy?"

"No, but praise sure brings a smile to your face"

"Yeah, but so do your. Writing"

No time for Fancey

2008-02-16T01:51:00.000-08:00

Its late, or early, we've all herd it before. That old joke anytime anything has to do with the day after midnight.
"Well technically its tomorrow"
And we laugh, because its easy, but thats all we are. Easy.

Anyways im not terribly creative right now. My hands shaking and making it hard to type. Its quite frustrating. Im just going to update some stuff on my life, that way my next post can be a poem that I wrote and will make readers , well, question their role.

People:
Jackie - Went on a couple of dates. Still love that girl. Always will.

Alex - Got fired from the Ivy. Went to Texas and came back all new. Didn't do much for a couple of months and now just got a job starting march. Also he now has an agent.

Anastasia - I met on facebook. Then we were blog palls. Started hanging out in real life and hit it off. She's got problems, i've got problems, making us fast friends.

Savannah - I see off and on. She's still uber rad. She's making it work with her BF. I guess she's working for a pay check instead of waiting for the lottery.

Christine - I went on a couple of dates with. Then she stood me up and disappeared from the world. She alluded to having a biopsy once, so maybe she died... Sad but I dont know what else to think.

Neeka - New friend I made. She has an interesting profession, but I probably shouldn't tell people everywhere. And if your thinking prostitution, your wrong.

Random - There is a lot of random people. They deserve their own post.

Housing:
I am still in a living room. I hate that. This house has a constant flow of people, mainly congregating in my room. Some stay for a day, others for weeks. You never no. But it doesnt help my insomnia (which is worse)

If i cant sublet my old apt, jackie is moving out and im moving in. That will be interesting...

Job:
I work at the Ivy but its being bough up and I dont know how long I will be there.
I edit at night for the Kindling Group. Thats good for now. I need a more serious editing job though.

Health:
I went to the hospital again because of lack of sleep. One more time and both my doctor and head person said i may need to go to a special place for this. I hope i dont.

Planning on loosing wight.

Me:
People dont like me. The people who do tend to love me, and then i go into a shame spiral.

Ups:
It hasnt all been doom and gloom. Like I said before, thats all that makes it to typing. The happy times are enjoyed at their discretion.

Bored at work listening to sad songs

2008-01-22T18:35:00.000-08:00

In the shadows lips are just lips
Hands to be trusted because, well what else can you trust.
The world outside your shadow wont understand
To be fair, it isn't right just because it feels good.
Isn't that how it always feels.
But this is a thick shadow
And if you spin around enough you dont have to leave
Just dont be suprised when you cant feel any more hands
or lips, left in this cover.
Now it could be lick of light
Or lack of years.
Its a lack of something, thats what we know.
We know, sorry you don't.

So an update. My pinky has healed. I am still living in Alex's living room for now. We are planning on moving out in march. If i cant get alex to do that I am going to have to move out alone.
I wont be seeing Jackie much in the future. She's working way to much, poor thing needs a rest. Shes sad a lot and I feel responsible for it and i dont know if i can shoulder that guilt. She really is one of the most beautiful people I know in any way. We only broke up because of my problems (which were effecting us)

She will be fine though, she is strong and smart. And we will be ok. And I will be ok. I am invincible with a high pain tolerance. This has to be true or i wouldnt be here now.

125$

2008-01-19T15:41:00.000-08:00

Thats how much this book is. And I would love it. But being poor I cant afford it at all. Oh well, I will just pine over it.

(ps, wes (the writer and the guy in the corner) visited. It was nice)

Its like being back in chicago

2008-01-19T01:12:00.000-08:00

Ive been a real bother to people I dont know very well.
People who showed an interest in me at one point, any point, any interest, I have been randomly contacting.

"Hello, been a while. Want to hang out? Something fun and exciting and out of the ordinary?"
This is followed by suggestions like, a picnic in the cold, a concert or show, or anything like that
"Maybe we could catch up and do something low key. I own a lot of good movies and can cook a mean couscous."
I think the intimacy of this is what scares people off, especially girls.
"Hey come by my work, I will buy you free drinks"
This comes off as desperate, and it is.

People I used to know and enjoyed, are way better then random friends of people I am around lately.

Side note, most people (and only most) that I enjoy in chicago are from other places. Alex is from Texas (and there now) Savannah (who I hung out with the other day but probably wont hang out with me for another 2 months) is from Ohio. Chavez is from Mexico (and sometimes wakes me up with dancing to pop music). Terrtu (who I contact sometimes and very nicely explains she is to busy) is from Estonia. Jackie is from my home town (no shit). Those are the top five people I enjoy and think are great in chicago, and all from other places.

Well, time for my morning harassing of people. Or bad poetry. Probably awful poetry.

Im going to paint this

2008-01-16T13:25:00.001-08:00

Sometimes graffiti is cute.

Films and painting

2008-01-16T12:06:00.001-08:00

Isnt he cute.

The other day I was feeling a little down and had a little money, so i did something I dont do often and bought an expensive DVD. It as Edvard Munch by Peter Watkins. I have seen it before and loved it but this was the 4 hour special edition.

I watched Once (also good movie) and then Munch and wanted to paint and play guitar at the same time, neither of which i can do.

Oh well, I guess I will just continue to praise the masters. They've got it, why should I try?

Internet has no soul ( for its shoes )

2008-01-13T03:31:00.000-08:00

My red has no red
Its only red with a delay of its self
Which is, red of course

Alex got fired from the bar the other day. It was over nothing and he had a small break down and went to Texas for a week or two. Clearing his head, being loved on by his parents, and having sex with old girlfriends. The kind of week week we all need sometimes.

In the mean time I havnt slept more than 4 hours in the past 5 days im guessing. Its looking like a repeat.

Im uncomfortable. To myself, around new people, old people and strangers.

My itch is there but doesn't itch
It only makes me pay attention
Which is, for no reason of course

Undbound and Lubercated

2008-01-10T02:13:00.000-08:00

Its early, late, early.
"Are we really going to have this debate? Go to bed"
I cant, thats the point. Im at a weird point right now. No school going on yet. And if i don't figure out paying for last fall and this spring no school at all. Even though i have this last semester left.
I dont work at see3 anymore. Im going to miss it there. They may call me back for freelance work. I am going on a faux date tomorrow with someone who might get me a job somewhere else. They offered to pay since I have no job and am 22 and they are apparently wealthy and 28. Fine with me, im broke. Now if my mom herd about this she would either yell at me or cry. Shes scared of spending money and frightened of people spending money on her.
Well i put film in my grampas camera (this is a pic of it) so im going to walk around and look for places lit up enough for an exposure.

Heres something shitty I wrote in a few seconds.

The enthrallment with words that hurt, and choke
It is evident in my adoration of heroes, that loath
My own words also culprits that epitomize this, and exonerate
Headaches being salvation of overworked lungs, that linger
It belongs to everyone are some thoughts, and aspirations
But what is duplicity with out abomination, that exasperates
No air for these lungs
They keep on breathing
No time for this year
It keeps on passing
No enigmatic precedent, unbound by the persisting annihilation of a declining up that seems to spiral down in the arms of a nothing being
That takes its form in a boy.

How was your trip?

2007-12-29T07:09:00.000-08:00

"So how did your trip go? Holidays and such?"

"well, Im all out of morphine now, wasted my last shot after the 8 hour drive out of Ohiopyle, beautiful place by the way"

"Morphine? Surely you are being abstract? Please explain in further detail."

"No abstractions, I havnt been that creative this trip, just in aw of natural beauty. I love the east coast ascetics. But when we first drove the 22 straight hours to MA, I fooled my body, it gave up on trying to sleep. I went to many days with out any sleep, then suddenly fell to the ground, unable to move and puking. Hospital gave me to types of medication (after a day of keeping me on a drip to put me to sleep) the first gave me hives and no sleep came of it, the second was shots of morphine. I had to learn to become a junkie, to fool my body to sleep."

"This all sounds awful"

"It was"

"So it was a horrible vacation?"

"No it was great. This could have happened when ever. I was glad to see the sea. To breath fresh pine air and drive by many of pounds. I am content with my conviction that I am only but a beast, roaming the earth. But this beast is enchanted by beauty like any other. If I love places, or sceneries, they will not hurt me in return. They will not inform me of how I let them down, grow bored and weary of my existence in its light, or cause me any self loathing at all."

"Well this conversation has mad me uncomfortable. I see some of what you really are, underneath, not the shell you expose in passing by. Its raw and ugly and I would rather have no part in it. You call your self a beast, I will politely say nothing but nod as to not lie. Good day, I will avoid your eye contact in further passing byes."

"Ok, I will still enjoy who you are. I enjoy most people. But I will take your dismissing air as a lash against my pummeled image, only exaggerating my beastliness."

"Yeah, ok."

MIA in MA

2007-12-23T12:05:00.000-08:00

Friday, I awoke at 1130am. Drove from Chicago to plymouth. No sleep. Plymouth, saturday at 3pm. Showed Alex my old life, old friends and lobster. Brought Alex to boston. Sunday, writing this blog, leaving out an encretible amount of stories, 3pm, still no sleep.

Why michael?
I dont know. It almost seems like I cant sleep. Im out of it though. I dont dare look in the mirror, im keeping comunications with people brief, and im staying away from poetic justices. Except the beach. I went there and laid in the cold sand for about an hour. Looked around and tried being apart of something beautiful.

But there i go again. Scratch your head and sit near the wall. I need to be stationary. Im leaveing this ramble, but continuing the post.

It was weird showing Alex my old friends. I was parinoid about worlds gravity and colisions. It was fine.
The drive was interesting. Lots of giggling at the tired end.
The east coast is beautiful, just breath taking. Maybe thats why I left, i didnt belong.
I always want to bring people back to show them. Savannah never would but I think she would have lots of fun. I invited Anastasia but that was just a gesture. Id love for her to be here, but knew in asking that she wouldnt come.
I dont miss the midwest. Just a few people out there.
Im moving into a sucluded cabin in the woods near a beach. No one will miss me and i will feel lost and away from my self. It works out.

Shes not that one, he is

2007-12-18T09:30:00.000-08:00

I had a little poem. But it got away from me. I would try and get away from me too.

Driving home this friday. Jackie, Alex and I all in my Saab. That will be fun. Ill escape chicago then after a week escape plymouth.

I have new things going on in chicago. Things seem fun. but thats scary. Fun and happy will leave. And that hurts. I would ask people to not hurt me ( i always want to say that "Hey, just dont hurt me, I know you dont want to, but you prob will, so just dont") But then I would be being unfair, because mainly its myfault they hurt me, or i just hurt me.

eck. blah blah. Give up. Right.

Working tonight

2007-12-14T11:07:00.000-08:00

Drowning in a shallow, disinfecting, distilled puddle.
Short shoots down my throat, burning my esophagus, curupting my blood.
Cant stand, wont sit, its time for me to not really give a shit.
Its going to be a whisky night.

(I wrote a country song, ha)

Never to be - But it was once

2007-12-13T12:38:00.000-08:00

I want to write so much when I am at work. It gets really frustrating because I get on a creative roll but am always to busy to even write down my thoughts quick enough to go back and salvage what I can from my better ideas.

So many good ideas wasting away like a baby being birthed off a Balcony. You only get a glimpse of its beauty before it gracefully dwindles down. Its weight only being enough to snap the cord and dirty the pavement.

Running down the stairs

2007-12-10T09:25:00.000-08:00

"You cant stop me"

"I wasn't going to. I want you to, so bad, I want you to"

"How can I not tremble with such words? Why am I always left at this point, unable to do it but always trying to?"

"Because you say what you want to say, you act how you want to act, but you are not who you want to be"

"The transcendentalist where wrong"

"Everyone was wrong. That includes you"

"Well if i am wrong, then I don't have to, you know..."

"You may be wrong, but inaccuracies swell up around your pupils. Its a blinding image of nothing else. A disaster feeling of who could care. An encompassing map with no direction."

"Shaking, shaking! Why does it leave me shaking?"

"Why don't you stop with the questions. Your not talking to me. Your talking to it, humoring it. Give in and bash your face against its ribs. Feel its heart beat its tenacious blood threw your skull. Where are you going?"

"..."

"You wont be back. Bye. I cant be if your not. I hope your gone for good."

Ive run out

2007-12-09T19:18:00.000-08:00

Its progressive, this degradation of the mind. Its progressed so much that I am no longer a man. I am the teen I was, used to be, well am again. Highs and lows like waves. My ship wont sing, just takes on more and more water. Making each up and down seem that much more heavier, and demented.

I sing when I'm up. Broken words of miscommunications. Distressed can be "undressed" Sexy and and bare, sculpted from indestructible existence.

I dig when I'm down. Shoveling dirt up into the air. It descends on my back as I hoarse my voice screaming into the cold dark hole below my feet.

If I was, not up, and no where near down, where am I? That would be like placing me in a house I have never been, in a town so unfamiliar, asking, "where are you?" You cant know North and West, when East and South are still a mystery. Misery. Its all miscommunication. The words are interpreted wrong, but the mutation leaves something valid.

So if you say, "Those emotions are not what you are really feeling" Your wrong. They are not what I should be feeling, but I am, so they are.

From the top of the wave I can see the sand bare at the bottom. The waves encompass all the water. That lows going to hurt and this high has made me dizzy.

I feel bad. Im sorry. Its all bad. Its not sorry. They can be bad. They're not always bad. Cant sing or scream. "I've lost my voice threw all this noise"

The problem with adverbs.

2007-12-07T08:38:00.000-08:00

My body shakes from the cold.
It is distracting and unpleasing.
Hoist up those pants and keep walking.
Clutch to your own parable body, letting out secrets of lies and shames.
A stampede of abandoned streets charge behind me.
They are not kind, but familiar.
Like your milk man, a father.
A face that harms and comforts.
Only half that face is past down.
Harm.
I harm with my frost bitten face.
Winter streets, I am a killer.

Small talk "So those Baers huh?"

2007-11-28T14:22:00.001-08:00

M "I hate my face"

J "Why would you say that?"

M "Cause its how I feel"

J "Well that makes me want to cry"

M "Yeah, my face makes me want to cry too"

J "Shut up, you know what I mean"

M "And you know what I meant"

J "Well what makes you hate it? I dont understand. Other people like it, I love it"

M "I dont really believe that. Even if it were true I dont care, it doesnt matter. I know what my face is and I will always obsesse about its monstrous representation of who I am."

J "You are intolerable"

M "Again, I blame my face"

J "Fine, I am leaving you until you like your face."

M "I dont think letting my face push you away will make me like it in anway at anytime."

J "Well I guess you will die alone."

M "I guess."

This songs my best friend

2007-11-27T15:18:00.000-08:00

"...I'm so good at condescending
It's so good for my weak ego
Can't get past what comes naturally to me
It comes natural to use
There's a fairness in the city
There's a new smell in the air
Satisfaction promised
But the sentiment ends there
All the Capricorn reactions
In the river up to my knees
A hundred little baby fishes
With baby bottle mouths to feed
Crooners crawl themselves like whores
Across the barroom floor
My mother used to hold me,
I hold her now that she's old
After all it's just a notion
Nothing really in the end
'Til a good one leaves the continent
You just can't write words to send
I guess everything's just perfect
It's all true, what you've been told
Run and tell your good friends that you just got sold"

Dont you love falling back in love? Thats what I did with this song. I would have to say this is the 3rd time we have dated. Its always a short afair, but wild and pasionit with out any ill feelings. Thats why we can always come back to each other, but never stay together.

If you know this song and like it as much as me, well congrats, you are automaticly my best friend.

You havnt slept michael

2007-11-16T13:29:00.000-08:00

So people complain and self diagnose all the time.

“I have such trouble sleeping, I really am an insomniac.”
“How many hours did you sleep last night”
“Well I tossed and turned, then slept from 3am to 830am.”

I am very rarely an angry person, but “Fuck you”

Since Monday night (which is my customary no sleep night because it reminds me of problems of last week and the problems to come) to now, Friday afternoon (im at work, seeing vampires) I have slept a total of 3 and half hours.

“Bullshit, you are exaggerating to make us feel bad for you and put us underneath you for you are almighty when it comes to battling the incessant need for sleep. A basic animal necessity”

“I wish it was bullshit. I wish I didn’t have to go threw the tribulations of surpassing my mortal-ness and joining the gods I don’t believe in. For threw my hallucinations (which there have been many) they agree they do not exist, then ask “And you have become us?” Yes, yes I have. I have murdered my friend, dear old sleep, that companion who would relate to me when it was time for me to be put away so I do not surpass myself. For in surpassing yourself you no longer exist. You are but you are not. There is but never will be. My eyes burn from conditions the element torture them with and the colors I see look like fire upon my peers.”

“Ok, you are a little fucked up. Maybe you haven’t had enough sleep lately.”

That’s exactly it. And the scary thing is I have reached a point were sleep is obsolete. I have trained my body and mind to function in this tiresome perpetuation. I told a man the other day he was the sweetest person I have met.
“But you haven’t met me, you’ve only sat done next to me on the bus, that’s not meeting”
“True, but you taste like sugar, find me another as sweet.”

He quickly moved away from me.
I want it to snow. So I can open my eyes and let the snow slowly put out the fire in them. Most animals hibernate in the winter. I walk the earth as corpse. Cold and dead, watching others sleep as I meander.

At least you loose weight when you are to tired to eat.

What dad had to say

2007-11-13T09:50:00.000-08:00

"..I cant even say I know what your feeling, because every brake ups different, and every love is different..."

"... If you need a roomate I can come out to chicago for a while.."

"... Braking ups retahded.." (thats "retarded" but with a boston excent)

I need an apt

2007-11-12T10:14:00.001-08:00

Jackie and I have broken up.
Trying to move, but have no money.
The winter sure doesnt look sunny.
I guess were not getting a bunny.
Im going to live off bread and honey.
For now my noise is pretty runny.
This ryming seems pretty funny.

but really i need a place to live...

Your pensive.

2007-11-08T14:01:00.000-08:00

"I said my pants"

"What?"

"I want you to iron my pants for tomorrow, then set the coffee"

"But I don't drink coffee, at home at least."

"And you dont ware my pants, but your going to iron them?"

"Am I? When did I say I would do that?"

"When I asked you to"

"You never asked, you said "Iron my pants and set the coffee" Thats not really a question is it?"

"Why do you love to argue with me about everything?"

"See thats a question."

"Well? Why the fuck do you hate me?"

"Well thats a different question, that I wont acknowledge. As to your first question, Im just defending myself"

"From what? Am i abusing you? Do I come off that much of a bitch? Fine then, I will just leave you alone and move out, if im that horrendous."

"But then who will iron your pants and set your coffee?"

"Thank you"

"Fuck"

I like your voice (no I hate it) wink

2007-11-06T00:12:00.001-08:00

On the bus heading downtown. Im reading the brothers karamazov in the back. Father Zossima is starting to smell bad and this makes and brakes peoples faith in the Starets phenomena.

A man, to my left, is loudly talking on the phone.
"yeah, yeah. I know, thats what I told her." "She is so like that.. thats her problem... I dont have to... "
and so on. I tried to ignore it.
He looked like a smoker(nothing against all smokers). The kind of person who dressed up in a nice business attire (which he was) somehow looks out of place. You see past that tie, light blue button up and leather shoes And what you see is an over sized tshirt supporting shitty american beer, sweat pants cut into shorts, and a dumb expression on his face that says "I just ate chicken wings and now I want to talk to you about Boobs" And yes, he used the word "boobs"

He gets off the phone and screams across me to his friend? Im going to say coworker, because he didn't seem care about what this guy had to say, but had a perfect placid expression on as he stared back at him.

"Can you believe it? She still talks to my friends like they care, or like i am goin to care or something, you know, you know?"

Im about ready to leave so I listen to his babbling and watch him put his phone next to the cigaret carton in his pocket. I told you.

As I slowly stand up
"I mean that bitch, you know, she actually says that im the reason she was anorexic, not because shes messed up in the head"
He points above his ear and makes an indication to his small brain. I kind of hoped he could push hard and make it threw the skull.
"Yea, you know? Like i'm the reason she was anorexic"
I turn fast around and bend down to meet him at eye level.
"You Are"
Turn around and walk away.

Now you know, for the first second he must of thought, "What an asshole. Who is he.. Of course its not my fault"
But threw out the day he will think about the judgment of a stranger. He might even bore someone at work with it, maybe standing outside the office for a cigaret brake.

Eventually he will become agitated and confused. And for at the very least a small instant he will blame himself. And because of that.
I win.

Entertain the sutained thought

2007-11-02T12:39:00.001-07:00

My knees hurt
as much as my pulses face
Designating a sound
only audible with one note
All other notes
suffocates before and after

My eyes burn
as much as my knees
As much as
my face, giving up.
I gave up
when my feet touched
The ground
My feet touched the ground.

I was my insides

2007-10-30T22:20:00.001-07:00

I am my outsides

It worked for Jesus

2007-10-30T10:36:00.000-07:00

same socks, same pants, same underwear,
as the day before.
With the cold holding me in my blanket
There was no time for things like wardrobe.
I didn’t even smell the articles of clothing
as I pulled them from around my bed.
It was on and out

Running for the buss
secreting sweat into my socks
which spawn babies of the sweat of yesterday
I rip another hole in my pants
"fuck"
and jump in-between fat ladies.

A friend is on the buss.
She manages a seat next to me
after an old man leaves
coursing about his bones

"you look cute today"
My eyes are red
skin like wax with bacon grease over it
and a hat matts down my bed head
I dont look cute
"Really?"
I say, hoping she doesn’t smell my feet.

"Yeah. not that you don’t normally"
Liar
She’s never found me attractive
But now that im unkempt
not trying
wasting away, in a carefree manner
I am invincible

"Well you should do something with your hair"
She leans back
Insulted and wet
Ive created a religion
I am the walking disciple
I tell her what to do

"Jerk. ha. What are you up to tonight?"
She leans back in
I hope she doesn’t smell my feet.

"Something at some point. You in?"
She thinks
and smiles
and gets off at her stop
I hope she didn't smell my feet.
same socks, same pants, same underwear, same shit.

Your a mess

2007-09-20T11:10:00.000-07:00

Not you. Me.

I am working at four jobs right now. I currently have no jobs though. Its weird, i know.

I have an internship thursday-friday. No money there but a lot of work.
I am working an easy logging and digitizing job that pays good enough, but they only call me when its busy, so i never know when im working there.
I just got a freelancing job doing actual editing projects, but not sure if they are going to hire me or when they want me to work.
Still at the bar, but with everything else i dont know when to say i can work. So I dont really.

And school. Always school.

Oh well.

Theres a tree outside this window. It looks like it faces down. Either its trying to pick up its babies it dropped or its terribly sad and doesnt care who knows. Soon its colors will go and it will loose more then babies. I wonder how far it can face down. I wont watch you tree, dont worry. You can be all alone.

Tame

2007-07-26T13:29:00.000-07:00

"Got hips like cinderella"

Do ever notice how old music (music you listened to a lot at one time) can remind you of how different you are now?

I have gotten used to sitting at home with no tv on. Typically i wake, drive jackie to work, come back, watch a movie and eat, then turn music on and try to clean.

I have been thinking about living on my own lately. Not thinking about doing it per say, but thinking about how it would be. Since i went from living at home, to moving in with jackie, i havnt lived on my own. Maybe i need to, at some point, to go threw that stage of development.

People seem to like me. At the bar they talk to and laugh with me, sometimes girls try macing on me, but i never understand it. I dont get me and have even less of an idea why anyone else would. Maybe thats it. Maybe since they cant "get/understand" me, im intriguing. Or they come up with something about me that would be nice, to them.

I dont have a name

2007-07-24T14:48:00.000-07:00

Well i do, of course i do, i was just being dramatic.

Feeling like a vampire lately. Awake at night and hiding from the sun during the day.

Do you know that when a mother duck decides it doesn't like a baby or a number of babies in the beginning of their lives, it will lead that one or others to the water so it will drowned and be out of its way. If that baby happens to survive, it will live alone with out a mother, knowing its hole life she tried to kill him or her. Sure, it will grow up with a stronger sense of character, probably last longer because of how tuff it will have to be, but being tuff never made anyone happy. Good thing ducks dont care about shit like that.

Ouch

2007-07-20T13:06:00.001-07:00

more nights

Getting you to come over

2007-07-18T10:17:00.000-07:00

Me: There is a problem, but only, only i cant say it now.

You: Why not. Just tell me. We have been threw a lot and i am sure that what ever this is i can calmly and sincerely talk to you about it.

Me: Well, i'm sure thats the case. But it feels cold and dead out here, with words. It lacks expression, understanding. You cant write down "End all life, this moment" and actual feel remorse with out looking into those soon to be black and eternally dead eyes.

You: I dont know what you are talking about, but it seems sever. Please, get it over with now.

Me: No. Please, come visit.

You: Ok, i will leave a comment for when i am available to come hang out.

(yes, this is for you, even if you think (is this for me) for the slightest second, that means it is)

How many times

2007-07-11T11:43:00.001-07:00

Will i say that i am back?

Well i am. It is funny, i use this blog in the laziest way.

I spent a month in europe. Am i going to talk about it? Nope. To much to say and i will never sit down to write it out. But if you want to ask questions, i might respond. Just dont ask which was my favorite place.

Anyways, i will be back to talking about nonsense, so be excited.

Placing the ducks

2007-04-01T21:44:00.000-07:00

M: "You really hurt me"

F: "Well i hurt you because of what you did"

M: "I did that because of these reasons"

F: "I understand that, but you always do what you did"

M: "Hurting me about it wont fix anything then, if its what i always do"

F: "Are you saying you wont stop doing it? That hurts me"

M: "I am not saying i wont stop, i will try to stop, but i have been trying to stop for a while, so it may still happen"

F: "When it happens i will be hurt, you dont care that i will be hurt?"

M: "I do, and thats why i will try and stop, but i dont want to say it will because its obviously not that easy for me"

F: "Well when it happens i will do what i did to hurt you again"

M: "That unfair, i am trying to stop what i do to hurt you, you are trying to hurt me back out of spite, on purpose"

F: "Thats not how i see it, so i am right, your the to blame"

Songs i wish i wrote

2007-03-02T12:06:00.000-08:00

Watching the detectives - Elvis Cosstello.

Hey - The Pixies

Positively Positive - Good Clean Fun

Cannon Ball - Damien Rice

Godzilla - Blue oyster cult

( ill keep adding to this im having a brain cramp )

You know who made a lot of films?

2007-02-26T22:15:00.000-08:00

Kurosawa. Man. I cant even pretend to find all these films. I guess its a good thing i obsess over people like Antonioni (even though like anyone else i adore Kurosawa) but then again imagine if Antonioni had 75 films!

These are my fav of the two, that i have seen (and ive seen all of antonioni)

Metafiction you are metamyheart

2007-02-26T21:03:00.000-08:00

PS Meta derives from the greek word Meta meaning above.

I have a few things i have written that i was thinking about posting on here. But they are like 30 pages each, so far. So i dont know how that would work out. Maybe though.

I played on the ice on the lake. I wanted to fall in. I dont know why, i just did. So i jumped from giant chunk of ice to giant chunk of ice. It wasn't working in i didn't want to get stuck to far out, so i laid on a floating piece of ice for about 45 minutes and thought about life. Mainly i thought about the ocean and how i missed it and how it is more poetic and all around cooler than the plain jane lake. Then i thought about how im on a sea of ice that floats on a lake that was made by one giant piece of melting ice.

Walking back there was a homeless man in the park propped up against a tree. He didn't have any shoes on. I asked him "Do you have any shoes?"
He said no.
"Can you get shoes somewhere or from someone?"
He said no.
Then he said
"they kicked me out of the shelter because of m insides, they beat me up and took my pants and shoes, just like em, thats what they do, everyones always take my things and kick me out of the shelter. I gave em up, i gave em this up. All i need is a quarter for food, i dont need shoes, not yet, food first"

I gave him a dollar and then took off my shoes and gave them to him. They were old shoes that i ware when i do things like test myself on breaking ice.

Me on a reality show

2007-01-24T13:18:00.000-08:00

So heres a story. Some one that Jackie (my girl friend) works with at her job (there not at her office, she has to work with him throw the company he works at) was talking about a bar that has game night for nerdy singles. Jackie said that sounds like fun, to bad she couldn't go because shes not single. He said thats no problem, bring your boy friend (me) and just pretend your not dating.

So we went, because we love playing board games. At this place there was a women from a reality show, she was a casting agent, on VH1. Its going to be a show were theres a house full of shy nerdy guys who get taught how to talk to people (mainly girls) and she said i should audition. So this thursday i have an audition, and i cant wait.

Also there was a lady from the red eye. She stopped me and talked to me for a little bit. I thought she was interviewing me for an article. She was actually very pretty so i didn't mind chatting for a while, and since im dating someone and this was for an article, i got to vent about being me. Well she took down my information, and left by saying, "ill call you some time and maybe we could hang out"
Im still unsure if she was interviewing me or if she wanted to get to know me for her self. I guess i will find out if she calls me.

"he's actually smart"

2007-01-16T12:50:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed, that when someone says something like "I am actually really smart" or "They are actually smart" you tend to believe them, no matter what you were first inclined to think about said person. Its a weird thing. People lie all the time and we don't believe them. They might say "I have a lot friends" and we could look at them and go "You know, i don't think really have many friends, and the fact that they are lying about this makes me wonder if they have any friends at all?" But something about proclaiming intelligence we accept hole heartedly.

Maybe this comes from our own insecurities. Everyone who is intelligent (and understand, its sad but true, not everyone is intelligent) usually has a specific way they are intelligent. This leads them to worry about the areas in which their brain just doesn't seem to work as well in. I mean, the fact is that being intelligent in one area automatically allows you to recognize were not intelligent. But then again, having intelligence usually allows you to have a basic understanding of this area to fake your way throw, or push your self to improve and eventually learn about and improve upon your week areas.

I myself have uttered this self affirmation to others. It has always been to strangers or new maybe friends, at a time when my intelligence might be in question, or when my self deprecating social anxiety thinks it is in question. It is followed by past experiences that proves my intelligence, my SAT score (1452) the fact that participated in a gifted youth competition (winning the north east chapter) or sometimes if i want to go deep enough, when i feel truly threaten, the fact that my grand father, two uncles and myself have all had to see specialist because of a mental break down that was caused by "hyper analyses" that is commonly found with people that have high IQs. I say none of this to brag, but to defend. The funny thing is that i here this from almost everyone, who doesn't want to defend their intelligence.

So just remember, people lie, a lot of people lie, and we don't have to believe them. The next time you here those fateful words "actually smart" stop and think about it, how are they smart? What do they have that proves this? Even if there is something to prove it, do they still have their intelligence? Because it easily diminishes.

Notes from the (modern american working) underground

2007-01-15T13:05:00.000-08:00

"Stephanie is usually looking for pain. It is the reason for her past five break ups. On the last break up she realized that pain isn't worth it. Although it hurts for the week she feels alone, the week weight weighs more, the week she realizes she stopped waring make up and no one paid her any attention because of it and their shallow subconsciousness, she also realizes that its all made up for when the new guy comes around and she is showered with attention and feels important and not so small. Her pain is now lost and seemed so artificial.
Stephanie tried all the typical, modern advancements in self inflicting pain. She stopped waring her heels the day her pinky toe started to bleed. She has the letters T and L tattooed on her lower back and is to nervous to go get it graded off. Her eyebrows have been bushy ever since plucking them started to make her eyes water. Her nails are only ever clipped and never filed. And she only ever uses moose in her hair because when she used hairspray she forgot and went to run her fingers through her hair pulling a little of it out. The fact is she is desperate for pain, craves it, thinks about it all day, but she is squeamish. Blood makes her faint and being cut, scratched, hit, is all to intense. It happens so fast and leaves so fast. She wants something that sustains, something to last all day and is out of the view of others.
Stephanie bought glasses. Basic black frames that go well with most outfits. The prescription is strong. The thing is she doesn't need glasses, her eye sight is as good as eye sight can be. She spends all day walking around, trying to make out the blurs. She loves the head aches, they start 10 minutes after she puts them on and 3 hours after she takes them off. At work she looks over the rim to her computer screen occasionally trying to do it through the glasses to get back that high. She will sometimes bang into a chair or a railing, and the throbbing will be an added bonus with the migraine. She started to loose interests in what she was doing. She would day dream about the slow, lulling pain. No one noticed her pain, and she loved that. She became disinterested in other people and they slowly began to ignore her. She was left to her self, not alone though, she had her pain, her lull, her reason to repeat. "

Real Quick

2006-12-14T00:48:00.000-08:00

So this was my favorite class in regards to the people in it. It was a speech class, and everyone was so much fun. For our final speeches almost half of us just talked about how we will miss one another and how fun he class was. It was a real breath of fresh air. Ive also made some friends from it. Fun, fun.

Transcendental Tendencies

2006-12-05T11:41:00.000-08:00

I can kill less fruit flies with bread, than the cells in my head.
I can love more obsessions of bees, than stings from trees.
I can ignore nothing of old, than be bold in the cold.

Holly shit!! i totally wrote the longest thing about the city. then somehow erased it!!

fuck, that hurt my heart a little.. ghees

all i can remember is at one point i said that the city is an immortalized death, but it was pretty the way i originally said it...

shit...

Wait

2006-12-04T23:25:00.000-08:00

how do i change my profile pick. i want this pick

yes/no/maybe/so

2006-11-21T14:28:00.000-08:00

were (where) supper (super) - you, my love, are crazy!

my girlfriend teases me.

I cant spell, but I write way, whey to much. My fault? No. Society's!!!

IM going home

2006-11-21T10:26:00.000-08:00

And were is your home? You may ask. Well Plymouth MA, that's right, were thanks giving started, the birth place of changing the stories about Native American murders, the place were turkeys would rape if they could rape a place or comprehend vengeance.
I don't mind going home. I am quit sick of the Midwest, in fact, I am starting to despise it and its people. "but mike, the Midwest are nicer people" well on the surface maybe, but keep in mind they are also the reason Republicans ever get elected. "well Chicago is different then the Midwest" sure, somewhat, but really Chicago is the midwest's St. Petersburg. Yeah its influenced by the coasts, but its still filled with midwesteners, progressive midwesteners, but midwesteners non the less. If only daily was more like Peter the great...
So homeward bond. I get to sleep in a room that is no longer mine. Hang out with friends who have all changed. Talk to my family who feel like a cast from a television show I used to watch. But at least I am celebrating murder. At least my feet will be off the ground.

This became way to bitter, I had no idea. IM going to leave...

Ps,these are oics of were im from

A little bit about me

2006-11-15T08:03:00.000-08:00

I like the painter Munch very much. This painting you see is actually what I have over my dining room table. Jackie (my girlfriend)bought it for me for my birthday from art dot com. I suggest art.com because it is great. You can pick your painting, pick the size, than custom make a frame and border for it. Its so fun.
Its funny that Munch is my favorite painter because Fyodor Dostoevsky is probably my favorite author. They are both considered symbolists. They actually were from the same generation too. Hmm... Its funny, if they met each other, they would hate one another. Munch was very liberal and also meek. Fyodor became conservative and stern. I guess they had something they could bound over that most artist can, broken hearts.

The Train doesn't stop here

2006-10-31T11:30:00.000-08:00

So after the last post I stepped out to get lunch for everyone one in the office (I get the lunch because im the only college student working here. For a moment I was eating my words, it was quite quit out. I could only listen to the wind and my ears felt like they were asleep in a deep bass hum. Then abruptly the train went screaming by, accompanied with cop cars and road rage. The cold went under my jacket to my bones and I felt like a useless leaf.

Ah well, winter does that.

I want to know people. I have lived in Chicago for three years now and only really know my girlfriend (whom I live with). I have hung out with people, done exciting things, but made very little in the ways of knowing people. In other words, I have made no real friends. Is that my fault? Well it has to be, but not completely. Its also chances fault. Its hard to find the requirements that I have and then have me match the requirements they have. It goes to the hole thing, everyone's the same but different.

Ah well, winter does that.

Today many people say Boo

2006-10-31T10:37:00.000-08:00

Its true, many people say boo today. I say it as well, but not to scare anyone. I say it in a traditional, throwing tomatoes at myself, kind of way. The weather is cold but I still want to go out. There's no fields in the city. Parks are ok, but you can still feel the energy of the vapid city life. The noise that chokes its self into a large cloud of infinite entrapment. Also homeless people stare at you and wait for you to fall asleep. That's not there fault, but it happens.

Back again

2006-10-03T14:34:00.000-07:00

So I am back again. With my new internship I found I have a supple of moments were myspace and facebook is not enough. So welcome me back no one who reads this. (that does make sense even if it doesn't)
well, I will tell exciting things soon.
also, I may post my short novel I am writing, maybe.

Marty and I

2006-07-17T12:42:00.000-07:00

Its kind of hard to tell, but this is a pic of Martin Short. I recently got to work on two projects involving his new musical. The first project i helped shot his musical live for Broll a possible DVD of the performance. The day after that i got to work on a commercial promoting the musical. That was really fun because the commercial consisted of just Marty talking. So feel kind of famous hanging out with Martin Short and all. Well, thats it for news now, maybe i will work with more famous people soon so i can post blogs about it.

nothing turns me on like wet cement

2006-06-25T18:38:00.000-07:00

thats a text message some one sent me after they herd what happened to me the other day. I was riding my bike on n clark st going down to meat someone down town. There was construction going on the side of the street i was on (there always is) but it was only blocked off by barrels, no tape or signs saying it was dangerous to be in there. Since the bus next to me seemed like it wanted to kill me, i moved into the construction sight. As i did this (at about 10mph) i saw a patch of wet cement. Thinking that since there was no tape, or signs, or anything indicating to watch out for the cement, i figured i could ride over it and at the worse leave tire marks in it ( which i have seen on sidewalks before).
Well my front tire dove straight into it, throwing me over my handle bars to pencil dive into it up to my waist. After struggling to get out for 2 minutes, then another 2 to get my bike out, i saw that no one saw so i rode my bike to the lake, washed the cement off my legs and shorts, nocked it off my bike and went home in embarrassment.

These pics were hard to get because I was using my phone and it was so bright out. I asked someone if they could do it for me, but they said no. Probably because i looked crazy all cemented up.

Long time no post

2006-06-23T12:22:00.000-07:00

so it has been a while since i have posted. I was stuck with no internet while i was in-between moving, then i was just really busy after that. My new apt is great, i love the size and he location. My two best friends came over from MA for 6 days which was great, we had a blast. I am currently writing two scripts and one short story that came from a script. I feel more productive being out of school. O well I will have more pics of from what my friends and i did when they were out (some might be us in spedos dancing ) but for now heres pics of my apt and its entrance.

Broke

2006-05-24T09:38:00.000-07:00

I am broke.
Not in the "i need to cut down on what i buy" kind of broke. More in the "I need to make 3000$ soon so i am not in debt anymore" kind of broke.
It is at such a bad time. I am moving on the 1st and moving cost so much. I can only eat dinner at home which is roman nuddles for a while and after that popcorn. It is all i have left. After i move Jackie is making a Ppod order so i can eat that food, which will be nice.
In the mean time i need to sell my stuff. Cloths, playstation, old mp3player, things ive made, cds, and other stuff.
I wish male prostitution was in more of a damand, jackie said she wouldnt mind as long as i brought in some money.
O well, time to go sell more things. If anyone needs anything, let me know, i might have or could make it or do it or anything.

how am i not myself

2006-05-21T01:35:00.000-07:00

I dont know what is going on right now. I think there is time, but i seem to be passing it.

Feer and loathing chicago

2006-05-17T17:53:00.000-07:00

So i was walking down the street. It was a nice day, the sun was out, it was warm, i was even carrying take out from my favorite Thai place. I saw what i thought was rain so i looked up to investigate. As i did a hunk of hail, 2/3 the size of a golf ball, hit me between the eyes. I went down like a ton of bricks, crushing my dinner. sad.

another thought.

Have you ever notice when you really love something you created and think its one of your best works and stuff, no one cares or notices it. But when you are disappointed in something you did or made something half ass for the hell of it, people love it. I hate that.

Final thought.

I cant find a good Bikram Yoga place in chicago. Also i cant afford any kick boxing gyms. I guess ill just stay out of shape.

Ps. this picture was found in my phone after a night that left only a memory of riding on he back of a strangers motorcycle.

Might need more

2006-05-12T10:48:00.000-07:00

So instead of going to work today i called in and actually slept. This was the first time in like 2 weeks that i have done that. Sure it was only 6 hours, but thats double what i slept all week.
I have one class left on Saturday, so i need to make my project for it tonight.
I am moving on June 1 to lincoln park. Maybe there will be other people to hang out with there, because there is none were i am now. I think im going to go to sleep for longer. Jackie's flight is delayed so i have another hour or so.

I had me a Vision (there wasnt any telivision)

2006-05-09T15:12:00.000-07:00

I realized since jackie has been gone i have only watched about an hour of tv. I mean if you don't count the three movies i have watched. If it wasn't for Degrassi i could probably be completely done with tv. I also dont play video games, so really all i need is a computer. hmm.

New rule

2006-05-08T20:29:00.000-07:00

From now on i can not buy glass cups. It is only plastic or paper cups from now on. In a fit of what i thought would be productive cleaning ended up in 3 broken glasses. If this doesn't sound like a reason to give up glass cups just keep in mind between me and Jackie, we brake on average of 2 glasses a week.
Call Me Cupid is going into the studio tomorrow to record. The album should be out in a month or so. The Kiss and Tells have a couple new song to come out soon but no news of an album yet. Finally Our First Fight is coming up with new material but someone's trying to bring in someone new so our first fight is in a fight.

This is a poem/story/something

Come on, move it along”
Says the officer as he taps my window.
“Two more hours” I shout, then looking him dead in the eyes “I want to paint the world with her screams”
He shines his light on two, fresh, Jigsaw peaces, only able to lock in one area.
Then after writing “were all dead” on a ticket, he sticks it to the windshield with his spit.

After ten years are pant’s and obscenities are the best way we communicate.
We use this time to the fullest. Are civilized world had slaughtered all but are privates, and there bound to fall off at some point.

It must be winter because my bloom feels dead and her nectars all dried up.
“the bee’s will eat us alive” I whisper in her ear, as I wipe my sweat across her cheek.
“then lets burn the hive” she gargled as her tethered leg searches for and kicks out the E-brake.

The car drops off the cliff, through what seems like an absence of air,

Like a heart that stops beating.

////

I love to write but boy do i hate reading it afterwards. I always feel so lame.

This is a painting done by Edvard Munch. If anyone wants to see my video adaptation of it let me know.

affirming

2006-05-05T09:09:00.000-07:00

So i know why i am a good editor (for film and video that is not writing, if you read my post you will probably understand why not for writing).
I am an improv artist. I don't mean i have mastered the art of improv comedy, i mean the way in which i create my art is best done threw improvisation. With editing, I have all the footage before me and all i have to do is dive in and see what i come up with. I have more thoughts about how this is a sign of creativity and about my problem as an artist in which i can come up with a thought i idea for a project but never can fully created as well as i can think it up and how thats why my improving better because i am working threw the process rather than thinking threw, but i thought about writing it for to long and it became another well thought out thing that i will never be able to apply.

Well i know i said i was going to put up poetry but i am feeling a little lackadaisical right now so instead how about a rap that me and my girlfriend made up when i hurt my sciatic.

I hurt my sciatic
Its so spastic
playing with my care-bares
I'm a fanatic
But a little ashamed
hiding in the attic
staying in one place
i aint nomadic
with all this dust
coughing is erratic
after singing my guts out
its operatic
figuring out my rhymes
its systematic

(now we need a chorus)

For the picture

2006-05-03T21:30:00.000-07:00

I am posting this so i can have a photo on my page. Cool huh? i have already used this more then i thought i would.

First time at bat

2006-05-03T21:16:00.000-07:00

So this is my first time using this. I dont know how much i will end up using it after this. I tend to start these things and stop after a little while. Not to menchen the fact that none of my friends look at these. Maybe i will make new friends then? Nah, but it is a thought.