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7/16/08 11:44 am - i am ashamed

at the lack of real content in these meandering posts. Christ, I guess I've shed that self-indulgent skin for something else, someone who isn't in turmoil constantly, yearning for unrequited love and all that quiet madness that you only reveal to yourself. Without meaning to it leaks out at the edges and eventually, they will know that you are just as crazy and obsessesed only maybe not as good as hiding it.

4/26/08 09:47 pm - inside

it happens every three weeks or so. brought on by nothing specific. not a smell, or somebody whistling for their dog, or even that late, steady light i saw today, from the bike. sometimes it is brought on by strangers in your overalls. This guy looked like a linebacker and he smiled and told me that his ex wife hated motorcycles. But he was wearing the same fucking overalls. I'm not listening anymore, just feeling really pathetic that this goddamn ugly jumpsuit thing makes me need you now, and i go into the back room and i just sit there and feel stupid. when you are really driven mad, you remember it all. the seam of your pants unraveling just a little bit, sitting there, in furry moss and fuck me thinking what the fuck am i doing here in the goddamn woods with you and your fucking dog and we're climbing trees and we're talking like we don't exist at least not here at least not anywhere where you are not what i made you but you liked the suit it fit just right and sometimes you wiggled out of it and i had to force you back in and zip it up tight.

2/22/08 01:25 am - shaking

it makes me shake to think of the lie i'm convinced now is shooting through the receiver, through you, gripping telephone lines and electrocuting pigeons are now, sometimes static overwhelms me and i don't know which version of you to trust anymore, if any at all.  the words come out of your mouth but the content is never reflected in you....i'm reassured temporarily but the sentences lose all power, they hang there like love, like limp socks on the edge of the hamper...

you turn around after the sugared words that rang with authenticity although they sounded like someone's obligatory long distance call,  you're a few feet away, but your mind, your very presence is on vacation somewhere in the atmosphere, in the philosophical, analytical, self-referential make believe world where the population is: you.  ATown of one.  ONE HALF.  because your psdyche is the only living thing you got right now, and even that is curled up in the fetal position, blind and deaf, totally disconnected, rocking...

i don't do the fantasy ivory tower self indulgent madness ....not anymore.  i used to be more like you.  but i've come to see the error of onvesting so much in the individual.  it can never, never be as inherently satisfying as investing and belonging to a collective, to a group.  as one person you will always come up short, leave unhappy and question your self worth.  we are not meant to be isolated from one another.  we are still victims of our own evolutionary history, with traits that no longer serve us well in this cyber-surreal reality.  but back to that bile that rises in my throat, the shakiness of my hands and unsteady heart when I think of your betrayal.  it was almost beyond my imagination.  but i should have known.  how could i have been so naive, so optimistic that you had changed at all?  a crumb?  eyes never big love crumbs.  not when you look at me.  they narrow and shrivel, like birdseed or prunes.

2/22/08 01:15 am - where i'm from ( a little ashamedly)

The place I’m from, technically, is an island

but we don’t have any clever parrots or pristine beaches

the only island-like thing about it

is its weird power over residents who tend to stay

year after year, kids I grew up with end up moving back

after a brief stint at college in LA, or Ohio or wherever

they come back to the place they were born,

where they suffered through puberty,

where they totaled their first car and watched their first crush

smoke his first cigarette,

they end up letting their golden retriever take a shit

on the sidewalk, less than a mile from

the place they will die

there is no real good reason to stay,

and no good reason to leave.


I remember how, in high school, I loved to hate the island

back then I loved to hate everything,

so full of hatred by third period each day

that if i didn’t get out for a minute,

I thought I might try to staple myself to death

or stare inside the photocopier until a comfortable blindness settled in.

The passing period bell sounded and I made my escape,

taking off past the sad little garden at the edge of campus, 

jogging past the drama room, and through the open door I could smell

its smell, always a mix of mothballs and Windex.


Ducking through the opening in the fence,

onto the paved road that leads to the dock and old navy shipyard.

You can see the Port of Oakland from there,

forklifts lifting the red, blue, yellow containers,

some blemished with amateur graffiti (I liked those best)

stacked in tidy rows above the estuary,

that black mess of water, salt, ropes of slimy kelp, rainbow sheen of oil,

half-chewed Styrofoam cups, a baby sock and sometimes a beached whale

split open on shore and the smell was unlike anything you can imagine,

made your eyes burn, the taste of sea and maggots, rotted out carcass.


I’d sit there until lunchtime, sometimes longer,

getting it all down in my journal

how full of portent it all seemed then,

The industrial skyline, the churning gray water

in my adolescent yearning there was a message there

the landscape was straining to say something,

straining to be seen, to be heard...

there was no way I was going to ignore it.








12/9/07 12:48 am - and they crawl in and out of beds...

how delusional.  really, what the hell was I thinking?  As harsh as reality is, I prefer it to denial.  Denial will just blow up in your face.  If that's true, why are the ones in denial seem so much happier? 

The problem is that even my honesty is not honest.  The wall is built so expertly that it is invisible, even to me.   I  don't know what i feel anymore.   I've worked so hard to  murder expectations that I have become disconnected.  The receiver of the telephone, dangling off a counter ledge.  I only know what is safe; how to fake indifference. 

I will never believe that you truly love me.  Not with everything; not without doubt or moments of uncertainty.  I refuse to believe you are not biding your time til you get your strength and courage back...until you can bag something more difficult. 

Now you tell me--insecurity or truth?  Delusions are sometimes more integral a part of reality than we realize.  You don't even understand what you are asking.

11/24/07 11:32 pm - the weird dream i had last night

it took place in a columbarium or some kind of gargantuan shrine, with lots of hallways and alabaster.  There were little statuettes everywhere--very greek-looking.. some of them new, most of them old.  the one i liked best was of a woman with her head down, inside her cloak.  IT was a sort of amusement park meets apollonian funeral parlor.  I was leading this group of student-aged kids around, to different rooms.  we were supposed to have the kids critique the new statues that were being produced for that year.  They gave some feedback, and I kept thinking how idiotic it was to have them give critiques about statues that they didn't even have a purpose for yet.  I heard something about Apollonius, and later, when i looked it up found he was a pythagorean philospher.  the meaning is in the meaning you make.  the systems and mini-deities and rituals we create are whats important, not necessarily the alien god we are trying to prove exists.

11/24/07 02:26 am - blag

Meez 3D avatar avatars games

11/15/07 08:14 pm - eulogy for the one not yet dead, but dying

that's just how it goes.  like that snake of a road.  you follow the slow curve of her hip, not really knowing where it's headed and not caring either.  suddenly, i came around the bend and the bitter cold hit me, hard.  it seeped in through the sleeves of my jacket, stiffened my fingers.  the view, to my right, a streak of clouds follow the moon, the moon that is orange and thin and unhealthy-looking like somebody's strung-out aunt.  the lights glimmer around the black mess of the sea.  it all seems too big and too important and i feel too insignificant to be looking at it.  I always worry when i'm looking at something big and holy like that--I worry that I'm not really seeing it--that i'm not taking it all in--that i should be looking at it and it should spark some burst of genius or peace within me, but it never does. 

Yes, I still think about you and wish you were here.  I know i'm being weak and stupid, I know you have bigger things to worry about--like your freedom.  I know that you probably love that girl.  I can't make you believe that we could be anything more.  cause maybe i'm wrong.  i hate this place because it reminds me of you.  i hate that street.  i hate those people.  i hate blue baseball caps.  i really hate blue baseball caps.  i wish you were bald under there.  i wish there was some vulnerable, soft belly on you that i could kick.  i want to find it.  i think you wanted me to find it, too. 

instead there are awkward silences broken with a snort.  instead there is ego, chips and shoulders and wanting to be who you know you are but can't possibly cause then it wouldn't be safe anymore.  so you settle for being more normal and boring cause the shallowness of it is safe.  but there are the things you can't control and they leak out slowly like noxious gas and i guess you were never who i thought you were.  sometimes you have to let yourself be unwanted , humiliated and wounded so bad you can't recover.  sometimes you have to let yourself embarrass yourself.

9/24/07 10:54 pm - second guessing for the second time

it never works when you need it to.  some nights it comes easy, and you surprise yourself.  Other nights it's like pulling fucking teeth.  we complicate things by hating what we are.  sincerity is so passe.  emotion is embarrassing.  

9/21/07 11:18 pm - fucked up chromosomes

it feels stupid to get all sentimental and nostalgic now, but i wish we could sit on my roof again, smoking parliments and listening to rabbi reggae.  it seems so long ago.  those nights made me forget the junkies and the mayhem and the money and the fear and the futility.  i wish you could lock me in the bathroom again, demanding kisses, demanding i sit closer, talking about joseph campbell and gesturing with your hands.  i wish i never saw it fade in you.  but you can only see so many toothless jesters and headless whores til you start to lose it.  i'm ashamed that i even feel this way.  when you're so taken with some other girl, some bossy, domineering girl that makes you work hard for nothing, but you like it that way...it impresses you, the power struggle.  I have to wake up in the future and forget this sick tightness in my chest--all the tragedy of the past four years, the hopelessness i've felt and lost, the misplaced hate, lament, shame.  the deeper i think, the deeper i seem to sink.  the heat of him and the rhythm and the things we never had to say.
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