Fresh Air From The Age

Holidays

2006-12-05T18:35:00.000-08:00

They go crazy with their seasons--
Almost drunk.
They climb up their houses to hang lights,
They spend and spend and spend,
Bigger, better; always.
The neighbor got his lights up before you?
Goddamn it.

Deeper and deeper into debt we go,
Plastic rules the holidays.
Plastic cards, plastic trees, plastic smiles.
Our spiritual debt mounts up, too.
It shouldnt be a chore,
It shouldnt be a have to.
It shouldnt be like this,
It shouldnt be like this at all.

50 Year Plan

2006-11-30T19:07:00.000-08:00

-June comes.
-Graduate.
-The rest of them go off to find themselves and drink in slack American institutions.
-I move to a city somewhere and play the role of something to somebody. This role could be a repetitive job or a meaningful relationship.
-Ill live in that city for a year, ditch the job or the girl and go to another city. Start over.
-Ill do this till I cant anymore or until someone wants to buy my words.

The chapter ends if I cant do it anymore; a new chapter begins if someone buys my words.

-No ties anywhere. No ties to the job, no ties to the people, no ties to the place.
-Somehow, somewhere, ill run into a lot of money.
-I take this money and buy a small, one story house on a beach somewhere.
-I wont have neighbors. I wont have mail. I wont have people.
-Ill have the rising and setting sun peeking in and out of my window and my words.
-Ill go on the rooftop of my house when dusk approaches and smoke grass every day.

The sun will never seem as intense.

-Ill write about it the next day; when I wake up in the afternoon.
-Ill ride an old bike on a dirt road into the small neighbouring town to buy cans of food. The dark-skinned locals will look at me strangely, making up my past in their heads. They will fish early the next morning, shrugging off thoughts of the strange-looking man.

-Ill return to my house one day; dusk approaching.
-Ill be looking at the Monet skies and looking forward to another beautiful moment watching the sunset. Another moment when id feel something lacking, too.

Upon reaching my doorstep, id find you there; you, who I abandoned in those lost cities, who I told I didnt care, who I couldnt see, who I couldnt help.
You, who I always thought of when I was watching those countless setting suns.

Dancing In The Rain.

2006-11-22T08:44:00.000-08:00

When so many people write their shit, how does one stand out? What makes me the ape with the first weapon? What makes me the person with the gun?

He awoke this morning from a fuzzy dream. It was warm and dry and amazingly cozy. He felt the need to move from his comfort just to go back into it. Too tired to sleep, too tired to stay awake; too tired to be in the middleground he fell asleep the night before.
His mother screamed for him to arise from his womb-like wonderland just because it was what her mother had done to her.
He felt the window and it was cold. It was always cold.
He would have to dress warmly today.

Acclaimed Aardvark

2006-11-15T10:28:00.000-08:00

http://acclaimedaardvark.weblog.com/

Sean G.
Whatever he feels like. Lookit.

Shakespeare

2006-11-15T10:23:00.000-08:00

Was a pedantic faggot. He was to writing what the Backstreet Boys were to music. There's a crying baby out here. And that baby is Literature.
Sad part is, that's all the english have.
Point is, think before you give more undeserved acclaim to this fucking prick of a writer.

What I Likes

2006-11-07T01:34:00.000-08:00

"What I Likes"

I like the shit,
The few, the ugly and drunk;
The gritty dirt in my teeth.
I like the honest, the true--
The candy-coated turds on the steps of the Vatican.

Ukulele Dreams

2006-11-07T01:32:00.000-08:00

"Ukulele Dreams"

To pluck a string was to pluck at my mind,
These sounds were memories.
Nights at this place,
A paradise in the middle of cold water.
Yet on some nights, the moon was out and the water turned silver.
Flowers grew there, and the sand was fine.

The place was magic,
So simple...
It was just an island,
Just a beach,
Just a sun,
Just a people,
Just a hut,
Just a uke.
Yet...

There was something else there,
On those silver nights.

Tsk

2006-11-07T01:31:00.001-08:00

"Tsk"

Life will be lived either way. We don´t just bounce off each other, but when we do connect, you just can´t make a big thing out of it, you´ll never get out alive.
Anyway, connection is magic. Communication is magic. But so are grunts. I don´t know, it´s all about finding the middle ground.
It´s all about finding the middle ground.
It´ll ruin you. In the end, we all cave in, and nothing sticks. There´s no way i´ll be able to get out of the hole i´m digging.

Tomorrow

2006-11-07T01:31:00.000-08:00

¨Tomorrow¨

Too tired to die,
Too tired-- too fine.
Long days lead to long nights.
The depths we can go,
For nights we can suffer or fancy.
Tomorrow will be the toughest orgasm on Earth.

Today

2006-11-07T01:30:00.000-08:00

¨Today¨

False genes tell truth.
Jealous syblings scream at God,
While plastic gets a new meaning:
Fat through a straw.

Families apart and through,
While rich get richer.
Respect is gone and so are you.

To Be Blank

2006-11-07T01:29:00.000-08:00

¨To Be Blank¨

The afternoon had looked spotty from inside the window and I pictured a dumb night with friends doing and talking about the dumb. I get myself home through another and explore pixels. I look at these colored dots and I look and I look at these colored dots. So many dots, thoughts, emotions, practicals, imaginables, beautiful.
Home brings moments of blank and moments of bloom. The movie comes on and it´s blank and bloom, blank and bloom, bloooooooooom. The music becomes my puppeteer and I blank now. Now we blank, now we bloom. Thank bloom for blank and blank for bloom. The time is burning by and we go blank.

This Person, This Sun

2006-11-07T01:27:00.000-08:00

"This Person, This Sun."

A ray of sun hits my eye,
One of the last.
The orange sun seems huge,
Beaming at me, saying:
"The day is done, reflection is my weapon."

She sits next to me, oblivious,
Not feeling what I feel.
What I feel seems so strong it floats over my head as a dialogue bubble.
She doesn't see it-- me.

I remember again,
How I first met this person, this sun.
In a flurry of people, aimless and shiftless,
She exploded forth, words shining.

She was always at the back of my mind,
Always someone to think about when the day was done.
But I noticed this,
And she moved to the front,
Always present now.

They Gave Us A Uniform, Boots, And A Gas Mask.

2006-11-07T01:26:00.000-08:00

"They gave us a uniform, boots, and a gas mask."

$300 billion.
2,600 dead.
20,000 wounded.
Civilian toll much higher.

And then you ask me to tie a yellow ribbon?
Fuck you.
You people brought this on yourselves.
I´ll kill you all before I go myself.

There

2006-11-07T01:25:00.001-08:00

¨There¨

By the good graces of whoever,
I find myself,
Not here, there, but myself.
It is good to know yourself.

The Twist

2006-11-07T01:25:00.000-08:00

¨The Twist¨

Clear skies never seemed cloudier. What happened to the stupid nights of drugs and sex and laughing and junk food and movies?

The Thinker

2006-11-07T01:23:00.000-08:00

"The Thinker"

I think and I think and I think,
I´ll remain the eternal figure,
Etched in stone,
Thinking of ways to be better,
Always and never.
The thinking stone will die alone,
Never, ever flesh again.

Something climbs up the vines on my wall,
Nearing my bedroom window.
It is a creature, with a bow and arrow,
Screeching words of panic, but with love.

The Races

2006-11-07T01:22:00.001-08:00

¨The Races¨

The ernest stay at the starting line,
YOU will flourish,
Like a pilgrim colony killing off natives,
Like a lumber company cutting down a rainforest,
Like a pimp whoring out young girls,
Like a fortune 500 company downsizing on thousands,
Like a man sending thousands away for an invisible war.

The Politician

2006-11-07T01:22:00.000-08:00

"The Politician"

So I'm walking down the street and I run into a man without a face.
I ask this man, "Man, where is your face?"
Man says, "I lost it in the war."
As he drove off he had no bumper stickers on his car.

Plastic Trees

2006-11-07T01:20:00.000-08:00

"Plastic Trees"

These trees are made of plastic,
Windmills as far as the eye can see.
Smog clouding our skies,
Our children´s faces.

And I just can´t believe my eyes, she said.
Believe it, Ma´am,
The dirt is dead,
The skies are black,
The water same.
The only plant will be a power plant one day.

The Eternal

2006-11-07T01:19:00.000-08:00

"The Eternal"

I´ve been as I always have been,
Like the sun, always rising, always setting.
New sparks in my brain, old ones too;
I´m the eternal,
I´m the never new and the always new.

The Dining Dead And The Chosen Few

2006-11-07T01:18:00.000-08:00

"The Dining Dead And The Chosen Few"

They can be found in the living rooms,
The dining halls,
The kitchen counters,
The red lights,
At the movies,
In the park,
By a pool,
Always dying.

There are a few, though,
The few who sparkle,
The few who shine,
Twenty-one years after,
They will remain.

The Beat Will Drop Someday And The Moon Will Be A Lot Closer Than It Seems

2006-11-07T01:17:00.000-08:00

"The beat will drop someday and the moon will be a lot closer than it seems."

Miserably invisible.
Fantastically invisible.
Almost invisible.
Nine years invisible.

You'll dress in a cloth, have a lollipop and walk through your yard with a complete stranger during a party.

Stoned Ways

2006-11-07T01:16:00.000-08:00

"Stoned Ways"

Ways

My way is better than yours,yours is bad, yours

An aqua tortoise,the branch of a palm tree in the surf,the meat of a coconut,a salty breeze,on your face, that same face thatwas looked at,spit on,punched,fuck you people,merry fucking christmas, fuckers.

wiggle course, wiggle sofaaa, wiggle cafe, wiggle fucking starbucks and their awesome fraps that I would kill for. I killed niggas fo less.

wagagagaggagaaaaa.waaaa, gaaaa, waaaaaaaaaa,unh! critic, fucker, manager, how long, ah. inside, its all milk.

waaaag agagaaa aawawawa agaaaaa wagsagwaa wagaaaa ggwwaaaaa waagagaaaaaaa wagwa MARKETING

sleep once, file twice

monet skies,expanding words,silver water,a moon made of cheese,an novel thats just as edible,truman fucking capote,

Come back, Marijuana Steve.

UKULELE UKULELE UKULELE UKELELE DREAMS DREAMS DREAMS DREAMS

Steel Skies

2006-11-07T01:14:00.000-08:00

"Steel Skies"

Lets just say this:
These days, we never know when the steel sky we made will fall on our heads.
When this sky falls, and the world is coming to it's end, there better be two people on a beach somewhere drinking a mai-tai.
It's just a question of what beach you meet the other person at.

Static

2006-10-31T11:34:00.000-08:00

¨Static¨

Horrible rhymes in my head all day:
Bells, whistles, tunes, people;
All day and most of the night, they BOOM.
So, finally, I figured what they´re for, this static;
It´s a blinding effect and it's a lifesaver.

You see, this future poses threats, it does.
I wonder about it-- then!
I grow scared,
I grow timid,
I grow small.

So here comes the static,
The noise, clatter, clutter and wham!
So then I can grow away;
I can dance, sing, scream, and jam to my static.
And in the end, we all jam to our static.

Run Run Run

2006-10-31T11:33:00.000-08:00

"Run Run Run"

Like a sore on the roof of your mouth.
Something that shoulda never been let go.
You go and handle something old.
Try and catch a balloon five minutes after you´ve let it go.

Ribbons!

2006-10-31T11:32:00.000-08:00

¨Ribbons!¨

September 11th brings the five years ago,
So some will wear ribbons-- maybe black, maybe blue, maybe some other color.
The material will be made in China. (Outsourcing is the new slave labor.)
So wear your ribbons and bring your words to the local Starbucks,
Check out the employees with their ribbons!

Ribbons everywhere!
Sip on your Colombian coffee made by people who will never know the pleasure of wearing that ribbon like a GOOD American.
Don´t be stupid,
Don´t say what´s expected.

Shut the fuck up and put your picket down,
Give some new words and quit repeating what you hear.
Give me something new to snack on,
Stop trying to be a GOOD American.

Pure Nasty Habit

2006-10-31T11:29:00.000-08:00

"Pure Nasty Habit"

You got three minutes to get it said:
Smile, don´t agree.
It´ll be titanic; you can deal with it,
Don´t push the revolution out, kid.

Make your move, mate,
You can grit your teeth and kiss someone,
You can pick a daisy and make someone eat it,
You can bust your style, smiling hard, always.
Do it so your heart´ll beat as fast as it can.

Oi!Chew Vitamin C and drink lemon juice,R
ape, THEN date.
The beat´ll go on and on and on,
Always harder.

Tell ´em they´re wrong,
Find a new way,
Find a way to spark the fury, the revolution.
You better make that machine work for YOU.

It´s just a pure nasty habit, this.
But Uncle Sam ain´t got nothing on my drafting skills, I can draft for anything.
I´ll send you a letter in the mail too,
Only it´ll have a poem.

I´ve got hives.
It´s a giant beehive,
Bomb it,
Force freedom down the bees´ throats.
Make ´em see what they´re missing.
"Pure Nasty Habit"

Cock your gat,
Grab your bat,
Pen and paper too,
They all do the same damage.

Fuck you for labeling, too!
The few and proud won´t be Marines,
They´ll be the ones that´ll bring the heat.
Every fire started is a broken gear on that machine.

I can break bricks with my head,
I can chew through steel,
And I never even have to even touch ´em.
Just gimme a pen.

And I´ll tell you one last thing,
If that fucking machine don´t work for you--
Smash it to fucking pieces.
Look out for number-fucking-one.
But, then again, it´s just pure nasty habit, this.

My Penis, The Liar

2006-10-31T11:28:00.000-08:00

¨My Penis, The Liar¨

My penis is in jeopardy, ergo, I am too.
My penis is a sadist,
My penis is a liar,
My penis toots a tune,
With consequences all too dire.

My Hut

2006-10-31T11:27:00.000-08:00

"My Hut"

So in a hut made of bamboo poles,
One needs many bamboo poles.
These are my bamboo poles;
Someday I might be able to live in my hut.

Muse

2006-10-31T11:26:00.000-08:00

¨Muse¨

I hold all power,
I smile at the sun.
I dodge the blame,
And take drives in the country.
The eternal is still my muse.

Moving Through

2006-10-31T11:24:00.000-08:00

"Moving Through"

When you think you have it figured.
When you think you know what to do and when.
When you know what today will bring.
Tomorrow will come. Hard.

It´ll leave you on your ass.
It´ll be something for the planners.
The dealers,
The bad apples,
The seers.

Thing is,
You´ll never know.
What it´ll come as,
It´s shape,
It´s color,
It´s taste.

It´ll taste like a hooker´s mouth.
Or a green apple jolly rancher.
It´ll all be like climbing up a flight of stairs and not knowing when a step will give underneath you.

Morning After

2006-10-31T11:23:00.000-08:00

"Morning After"

I dont know who I am as I wake,
Bittersweet cacophonies ring in my ears.
Breath tasting like a thousand different foods,
I realize I can't remember the day I was born.

I gag on toothpaste brushing my teeth,
And manage to make my gums bleed blue when I floss.
Another day smiling at me,
We'll always scowl back.

Putting on pants seems comparable only to boxing with no arms,
The room's darkness seems so inviting.
Out in the day the air smells strange,
Not like the air in your home,
Acrid, unforgiving, angry air.

People will look at you strangely.

Middleground Is A Lie

2006-10-31T11:22:00.000-08:00

"Middleground Is A Lie"

Stuck in the crawlspace between two rooms,
Crying out for daylight, for some sunshine-- clarity.
Singing the ode of the man in the wall,
Spitting out the grunts-- ornery and garbled.

The plaster will break apart one day,
You´ll fall into one of the rooms,
Clarity will seep through the veins in your eyes.
Be ready, old man.

Memoirs

2006-10-31T11:21:00.000-08:00

"Memoirs"

In truth, I live in a meadow,
as a snake in the grass.
Corrupting--
the masses,
the few,
the one,
the dreamers,
the screamers, the emo and devo.

Marijuana Steve's Revolution

2006-10-31T11:20:00.000-08:00

"Marijuana Steve's Revolution"

There once was a man named Steve. Steve smoked cannabis. Only, Steve lived in a place called The United States.
Before anything, a little history on the US. The United States was founded (not discovered) by a group of people who didnt get their way in their homeland and decided to start a new country. (The equivalent of a 5-year-old claiming he doesn't want to play a game anymore because he's losing. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for not conforming, but the wrong people were the non-conformists.) Anymore, these people founded a country based on strict imaginary laws and borders. Things were good for them, because they could play their own game in which they always won.
But things changed, the new generations born in this country did not think like their ancestors. They began to see how easily imaginary borders and laws could be crossed and broken.
Enter Marijuana Steve. Steve was a normal man, doing his part for society and doing his part against it, too. It sometimes felt that his relationship with marijuana was like a dirty secret, like wearing women's underwear. Other times, Steve felt empowered, knowing he was not alone, knowing that there was an entire counter-culture of people behind him.
Steve tried not to think in such big terms for he grew sad that things would take a very long time to change. Steve visited the nation of Spain in the spring of 2003. (Had the entourage of prudes not inhabited this country, we'd all be speaking spanish because of these people.) Steve was amazed. Spain had very pliable marijuana laws. You could grow and smoke in your own home, legally owning up to 50 grams of green. You could not distribute, though. Steve then learned of other countries that had even slacker marijuana laws, countries where it was even legal in some places. Steve returned home and grew sad for several weeks.
Steve told his friends of everything he had seen. Steve's friends grew sad as well. Steve then fell into a semi-serious spiral of drug use. Steve wound up getting arrested for possesion of cannabis his sophomore year of high school. Steve grew sad. It was after several months of reprimand and hypocrasy that Steve smoked again. Brainwashed isn't the right word but it's the first word that comes to mind. Steve accepted his country and its invisible forces. There were too many against him. Against us.
Steve then realized that marijuana would only be the beginning of something very big. Big things take time.
Call me Marijuana Steve.

Lucas

2006-10-31T11:19:00.000-08:00

"Lucas"

Winding up,
Finding ways,
Looking out,
Like a sponge,
Like a shapeless lump,
Like a flower bud covered in dew,
Like an aging sun coming up, again and again.

Letter Of Apology

2006-10-30T11:17:00.000-08:00

"Letter of Apology"

So after this man drives off with his car with the bumper sticker on it I get to thinking: "Why the fuck do I have a face?"
And I woke up in a streetcar, still wondering about this man's face(or lack thereof). A small Asian woman glances over at me from her seat, the world outside zooming by. She does this several times and, finally, stands up and walks over to me. She's about a head shorter than me but this doesn't discourage her from standing inches away from my body. She digs into her purse, hears a plastic crinkle and takes out a fortune cookie. She smiles a toothless smile, her eyes become invisible and she hands the cookie to me. She then goes back to her seat. Perplexed, I open the cookie and inside it lies a white slip of paper, and on this paper there is text. It reads, "It starts here."
And I wake up in a hut of some sort. "It starts here?" I wonder about this fortune as I'm walking outside this hut. I seem to be on an island, more precisely, a beach. It is completely desolate and I start to wonder where I am. A few minutes pass and the sky turns gray, then dark gray, then a blue-ish dark gray. I walk to the hut, expecting rain. It begins to rain, only not water, but frogs. Well, toads to be precise. Toads are bigger, and these were huge. They land on the sand with dull thuds, many of them exploding to many pieces. Fearing a concussion via toad I head inside the hut. Only, I'm not protected there because the toads have already broken through the hut's straw roof. The last thing I remember was a swampy kind of smell. I suppose a toad made me it's bitch before dying.
And I awake looking at her. The smell of swamp is gone, replaced by nothing. A very bad feeling has gotten ahold of me, like someone standing on my chest. I find myself telling her that how sorry I am and how stupid I was. She looks at me like I killed her cat, so do her friends, surrounding her. I feel helpless and I can't breathe and I'm tired and there's no way to defend myself. I can't breathe, I can't breathe. I think I'm about to be lynched, maybe tarred and feathered. Where did I go? What have I done?

Kid With Loaded Gun

2006-10-30T11:16:00.000-08:00

"Kid With Loaded Gun"

How trustworty am I?
How much is the sun worth?
How much candy can the moon hold inside it?
How hot was that shooting star you just saw?
How can you?
Who can you be?
It´s a matter of who you were,
And what you´ve become.

Keeping The Edge

2006-10-30T11:15:00.000-08:00

¨Keeping The Edge¨

A kind of celebration of being,
Tickling the back of my neck- mind.
Wondering if it creates art- so, si,
If it´ll win me a nobel.
Win it, win.
Then, our legs will come back to us,
The ramble stops.
Has the creative edge now gone dull?
Has my nobel disappeared?

I Have To Put On My Shoes

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

"I Have To Put On My Shoes"

And I have to tie the laces.
I have to walk the dog,
And I have to get the milk.
I have to water the plants,
And I have to answer the phone.

I have to go to the store,
And drink my wine.
I have to sit around,
And smile at the sun.
I have to ask some questions,
And notice that there was no sense.
I have to die a little bit at a time,
And I have to drink myself sober.
I have to take pictures of the sky,
And I have to notice it´s not raining anymore.

I have to put on my shoes.
I have to remember and I have to forget.
I can´t be the eternal gray,
I can´t be the lost day,
I can´t be the dirty look,
I can´t be the unfinished book.
I can´t be the whispered words,
I can´t be the dead, flying birds.

Fields of green that can never be cloud my mind,
Fluffy clouds I can never lie on,
Wet grounds I never want to sit on.
I never noticed what was happening,
Until it was done happening.
Until it was all a greatness or a sadness or whatever.

I never saw,
I never breathed.
I never kissed,
I never fucked.
I never lucked out,
I never bought in.
I never smiled,
I never looked on.
I never snorted,
I never looked back.
I never got caught in the rain,
I never got caught under a car.
I never had a look on my face-- Never.

Grubbing Around

2006-10-30T11:09:00.000-08:00

¨Grubbing Around¨

The parrot screams the same,
As all the grub worms speak.
The teacher yearns for more,
As all the grub worms speak.
The talk becomes slow-- lame,
As all the grub worms speak.

Grey Mornings

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

¨Grey Mornings¨

I awoke on a wet lawn in sickness,
With a bird a few feet away from me.
I was somewhere I had been before,
I knew this because I´d seen that bird before.

I´d seen this bird the day my mother died,
I saw it when my father broke those dishes,
I saw it in the cinema at the end of that movie,
I saw it on my grandmother´s tombstone that afternoon.

Evening

2006-10-30T11:06:00.000-08:00

"Evening"

Wake.With a phone call... my manager. ¨Im outside, i´ll pay you 20 bucks if you help me deliver a bowflex.¨ ¨It´s 8 in the morning¨¨25?¨
In his Ford. Heading to Weston?
We share marijuana stories. A party tonight. This headache will go away and I can just get wasted and relax with my friends.
Bowflex delivery. The dude only speaks spanish so I have to do the talking. He is an uptight prick who keeps asking us to move this heavy machine from spot to spot. Fuck that guy, I hope he has herpes.
On the way to the store. Time to kill. Breakfast. More marijuana stories.
At the store. Lights on, register open, music on. Americans enter. Headache.
¨I want a 300 dollar bat for my 7-year-old.¨ Fuck that guy, I hope he has gonorreah.
Manager starts to talk about women. He is a very sexist man who hasnt gotten any for a while. His wife calls and they argue about spending habits.
3 o´clock comes. And stays forever. It seems like time slowed down for the hour of three.
I´m hungry but were busy so I don´t go eat. Hunger goes away but not really. Adaptation is a concept comparable only castration.
Customers consume and leave, consume and leave. J goes crazy when he´s hungry so he goes eat. I don´t even want to eat anymore. Although I can, I don´t want to.
Reefer will be smoked tonight and I need to make a pipe. My manager takes me to water sports and shows me how to McGuiver a pipe from a snorkel.
6 o´clock draws near. I need a ride home and J offers to take me, I accept. We play games online to kill time. Work can be fun.
SIX O´CLOCK MEANS I CAN CAST OFF THE OPPRESSIVE SHACKLES THAT THE MAN HAS PUT ON ME AND LIVE FREELY, RUN NAKED IN A FIELD AND CREATE BEAUTIFUL THINGS ON A PAGE.
J takes me home and I make plans to buy reefer instead. Shower. Make calls in a towel out back. Multi-tasking brings back a headache I´d forgotten about. Dealers are dry. I only have 5 joints.
K picks me up, he showers and shaves his balls. We pick up M. The man of the hour. We are off to buy beer. An act that we have to treat with extreme delicacy. It seems ridiculous that kids my age can buy reefer 30 times easier than beer. We pick up beer that was left over from another night and was stashed in bushed in one of our homes.
Palm Food Mart. The high school student´s ace. I buy beer. The Indian dude charges me double for it, like always. Fuck that guy, I hope he has hepatitis.
C´s house. There is tension. K hates C, so does A. But we all relax. Tonight´s for M. It isn´t long before Ka and S show up. A shows with G. H is nowhere in sight and were all happy because of this. Se shows up with his cousin Al. Ch shows up with Mel. D´s mind is surging with possibilities. D is a bad man.
We smoke. 2. 3. 4 joints. I drink beer. I remember I hadn´t eaten. I forget it. D goes into predator mode. S´s cousin. K´s friend. C´s friend. Time is still ticking by as D wastes his life.
Later. Very drunk in a hammock. Later. Sitting in a chair.Later. Playing with a uke.Later. Empty.Later. Empty.Later. Empty.
Morning. Da and M leave with D´s dad. I, C and I remain. C and I are asleep or still fucking or god knows where. I grab a trash bag and get to work.
¨He who parties the hardest will clean the hardest the next morning.¨-Benjamin (The Tank) Franklin.
C gives me a ride home. D grows sad and goes to sleep.
Awake and it´s sunset. What a glorious waste of:1. life2. money3. health4. intelligence5. human relationships6. futures7. glass bottles8. underwear9. condoms10. youth

Coffee at Mable's

2006-10-30T11:05:00.001-08:00

So I was having coffe at Mable´s the other afternoon.

I says to Mable, I says, ¨Mable, I read this book, see. It´s called Rules of Attraction and it´s about a buncha kids who don´t know what they´re really doing and they´re just trying to figure out how they´re gonna live their lives. And I get to thinking, Mable, I get to thinking. I think, why this don´t affect us, yknow? I get to thinking why Im so different from these kids, yknow? When it was over, all I could think about was how this entire notion of oneself, what we are, is just this logical structure, a place to momentarily house all the abstractions. It was a time to become conscious, to give form and coherence to the mystery, and I had been a part of that. It was a gift. Life was raging all around me and every moment was magical. I loved all the people, dealing with all the contradictory impulses - that's what I loved the most, connecting with the people. Looking back, that's all that really mattered.¨

Mable wasn´t listening because she was on the phone with Marcy, who´s gotten really fat since she had the kid. The coffee was too sweet; Mable always makes her coffee too sweet.

Come One, Come All

2006-10-30T11:05:00.000-08:00

"Come One, Come All"

Step right up to my musical erotica. Sing with my women, my men, cry with the old ladies seated in the balconies.Let my opera pulse and pulse and pulse. Allow me to pull on your strings, make you crack in half in sound.
Electroshock isn´t the right word but it´s the only word that comes to mind.I used to ask myself, ¨Anyone wanna waste some time?¨Now I don´t. Clear-headed and lucid, inspiration hit me hard and hit me fast. You´ll cry.Wear golden studs on your belts, jackets, and jeans. Go against, with, for and all the way.
WE GOT A WINNER!We got a winner, folks. She´ll step right up, a faceless announcer calling her name. She is great for 10 minutes and reflects for 30 years. The announcer does coke, fucks hookers, and wastes time. So much time.
Next time you sleep, think of a tunnel, in which you´ll run on the walls, the ceeling, at hundreds of miles an hour. Or, think of a field, in which you´ll be a cheetah, in which you´ll run so fast, the horizon approaches, and you get to see the end of the world.
The end of the world will be seen at an end of the world party sometime during your junior year in college.Your junior year in college, you´ll start to do heroin, you´ll fly to the hamptons with your yuppie friends, shoot up in the bathrooms of expensive restaurants. You´ll listen to the talking heads.
Have you seen my opera? Have you tasted my sounds? Have you cried them through your pores?Oh, you worthless fuck, you can´t. Too worried about carnal pleasures. You leader, you motivational speaker, you fuck, you motherfuck.I shouldn´t have shown you my opera, it was too good for you. My musical erotica will go to another town, fetch a new victim.
You just weren´t blind enough, motherfucker.

Clear Skies Ahead

2006-10-30T11:02:00.001-08:00

¨Clear Skies Ahead¨

The big questions got me tired.
I bet they have my friends tired, too.
I think I´m done with the big questions.
Ah, get the fuck, I don´t wanna know anymore.
Let things happen.
I want to lie on a couch in the afternoons and write in a notebook.
I think it´s the words that did this to me; the words suck it all outta me.

Call Me Captain

2006-10-30T11:02:00.000-08:00

¨Call Me Captain¨

So the Whitman will make you wonder,
He´ll make me tap at the key bored,
He´ll make me smile,
He´ll make me cry,
Whitman´ll make you bipolar, he will.
The Whitman man can.

Bush!

2006-10-30T11:01:00.000-08:00

¨Bush!¨

Two years more!
Three years more!
Enough, enough...

Brace

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

"Brace."

Either way, the sun´ll set and rise like the ass he is. Your son will be caught having sex with a girl he doesn´t know somewhere. You´ll probably be maced before you die. You´ll probably be flipped off by a guy with one arm. Your mother will most likely disown you if she hasn´t already. Your father might get cancer. Your aunt Shiela might die and you´ll wonder what she was like. Shiela might leave you so much money you´ll develop a drug problem.
That bitch, she was always up to no good.
You´ll go to another country and feel like an ignorant American, even if you aren´t. You might be offered a seat in Congress. You might have a three-way. You might get herpes and never be able to fuck anyone without telling them before. Your uncle Joe might borrow money from you and run off with it. You might find a pee stain on your couch the morning after a wild party. You might find someone you don´t know in your bed the morning after a wild party. You might think of your son. Your daughter might get knocked up. You might buy a gun for self-protection and shoot a child playing a prank on you one night.
You might be a good person forever.
You might be behind bars the rest of your life. You might get drafted and sent to a country you´ve never been to before by a person you´ve never met. Your sister might come out of the closet to your girlfriend. Your girlfriend might run off with her.
You might find the God you thought never existed.
You might unwillingly take X one night and be raped. You might forget your tampons. You might punch a stranger in the face because you´re having a bad day. You might beat your child because he isn´t good at sports.
You might die looking at the stars on a beach. You might die looking down the the barrel of a gun in an alley somewhere. Either way. Brace

Arbinn Mononsie

2006-10-30T10:59:00.000-08:00

"arbinn mononsie"

ÌVW SEEN SUCH BEAUTY
ive seen the sky,ive seen the moon, and its still all beautiful.
kill the parents that make their kids wincry for the cops who lose their gunsmarvel at the people who speak for themselvesat themselfscarbon monodoise

Anti Anti

2006-10-30T10:57:00.000-08:00

¨Anti Anti¨

note. find out how people do it. note. tell them how you feel. note. live like an animal. note. need perspective. note. find out what needs to happen.

Ah Shit

2006-10-30T10:56:00.000-08:00

"Ah, Shit. I got Animal Crackers In My Soup"

You miserable fuck,
Who would have thought that an old drunk would piss you off so much? You old miserable fuck, I´m glad you died. You shit.
I speak out of jelousy, my words are green. Bukowski, you motherfucker, you left way too high a bar for me to jump.
Animal Crackers In My Soup is everything I might not be able to do you old fuck. I hope you´re done decomposing because I plan on digging you up and using you bones to bang on drums. You motherfucker, you wrote gold, but you wasted so much time. You stupid fuck.
I can beat you, fucker. I just need to find out when. I won´t waste as much time as you did.
Fuck you, Buk, Hank, Chinaski, whatever. Fuck you.
Sincerely, Diego

An Eye On The Ground And One In The Sky

2006-10-30T10:53:00.000-08:00

¨An Eye On The Ground And One In The Sky¨

The man with the lazy eye will have the mindless job, An eye on the ground and an eye in the sky, A foot on the ground and one floating-- how could he be? How could he exist, this man?

Lovely Florida

2006-10-30T10:41:00.000-08:00

The sun burns your eyes in the morning,
The rain makes you wet in April,
The winter days are short and few,
An inferno otherwise.
Lovely Florida.

Like Waiting In Line For The Water Slide

2006-10-25T11:34:00.000-07:00

I am not a bored housewife.
I am not a computer geek.
I am not a business analyst.