the lemon generation.

been watching Freaks and Geeks lately, that old tv show from the late 90's
for some reason it makes me nostalgic for a life i didnt even have.
does that make any sense?
its like deja vu
except for nostalgia.

is it possible to be homesick for a place that doesnt exist?

closer to godliness than cleanliness could ever hope to be

'fucked-up' and 'family' both start with 'f' for good reason
yet i feel right at home
maybe family is only family if everyone else is as fucked up as you are.

have you ever wanted to disappear and join a monastery-
go out and preach on manic street

fuck is my favorite word.
it really applies to everything.

salinger and pynchon

been in a shy world lately. though there have been thoughts picking at my mind like it was a lock.

intellectual property be damned.

death is a circle
that keeps closing in on all my friends
hit the brakes
dodge the bends
"gum drops and chimney tops"
this is the minutia of city flats
i want to paint the sun on my wings
than you can have it back
hell is having your choice of anyone or anything
this band that plays just for you
singing "fuck you" turnpike blues
spiritual mediums just scratching
at dull sentimental backs
declawed memory itches
break your leg in the generational gap
wells vomit childhood wishes
the midas touch in reverse
and could it get worse
the crabapple doesnt fall far from the tree
tin man syndrome
you got big dreams, watch me break them
and for everything ive seen
and all ive had
god must be a
mean lonely man

a note from sleep

good luck is:

sleeping on tile floors
grudges and hands we hold on to
hours of showers till the heat wont pour anymore
stalled cars looking out into the rain
the sleep that comes moments before the sun freezes our eyes open
hugs that remind you of the fuck that lies beneath them
boxers who fight for sweat
kids who love art but never talk about it
heirs to misfortune
warm naps in the afternoon
free love with no inflation
perfect imperrfections
hippies on motorcycles
pulling over the car for no reason
scars
city skies
black outs on laterns full of fireflies
the opposite of clarity
puddles of sunshine

i just dont want to die without a few scars.

the best way to waste your life is by taking notes
the easiest way to avoid living is to just watch.
look for details.
report.
dont participate.

jesse lacey put it simply when he wrote "life is a test and i get bad marks"

fuck the grade.
flunk the test.
cc me when you finally get the memo.

i think this is a bit of an overestimation.

ill need to take up gardening or something if im gonna be around this long.

the only thing suicidal here are the doors.

weve been indoctrinated to crave the idea of the extraordinary ordinary
we accept the blogs and camera phones as mediums, not as in the transfer of information, but more closely defined to the idea of the spiritual medium...- as the prophets, the eye and pyramid on the dollar bill
we are just flies on the wall watching a culture have a nervous breakdown.
everyone is born between may 22 and june 22, even if theyre not- we are a gemini generation. we love to hate everything in other people that we hate about ourselves.
arrogantly insecure and vice versa.
and life lately is just always about the spins and collateral damage.
sometimes the snow and ground frost shut us both down
in love with the idea of permanent impermanence.
so careful of stuttered over articulation, as though saying the word better would somehow make it mean more.
the worlds worst kind of diary.
i wish i could pull the pause button off of every electronic gadget in my home- i despise it so.
strangely fulfilled by the idea of loving strangers and hating my friends.
how there had to be an inkling in the head of neal armstrong to just stay on the moon and wait for the air to run out, besides the fact thats what we are all doing sort of in the long run only he'd have a better view.

a sketch of Chicago in words.

afternoon rhythmic no sleep dream.
body rigid.
mind convulsing.
i went scanning thru frequencies as my eyelids stuck shut.
reminds me of the first time the emt's gave birth to me.
or back to me.
whats the difference between a vision and a hallucination is simply whos giving the diagnosis.
the visions were so bright they burnt shadows on the inside of the room.
were a wagon party.
i see the world in slow motion.
theres shivering everywhere.
too cold outside, too hot inside.
fall has stolen the country from here.
sleep never comes naturally anymore.
boys playing men in flannel shirts-
homage or parody of what once was.

whos gonna be left when its all and done?

im exploding just too slowly for anyone to take notice.

this machine kills fascists

after the pornstar john holmes career deflated he turned to showing up at LAX and stealing peoples bags off of the conveyor belt.
i watched someone do this to me at the airport today.
i am obsessed with the change that can turn in the world.

sometimes the message is more important than the art.
i need him more than he needs me, he needs her more than he needs me and so on.
theres nothing new under the sun
but were reading on existentialism in the shade.
i am so in love with the idea
if it werent for that i am not sure where i would turn.
i guess this is another halfhearted thank you. just because you keep tuning in.

"dont you think its insane how donald duck never wears pants?"

life is better when youre around.

but yes i do think its insane.

"our smiles are just a commercial for how normal we are"

the idea of protecting would imply that there is some possession-
a toast implies change.
noone toasts normals days
or gutter heads.
i swear to god i have come to love some of you so dearly.
i count on you to get me by.
but i have begun to wonder about my contribution to life
i want to go to school.
i want to move far away.
im scared.
but only of god and a witness stand.
im not sure how much longer i want to do this if it doesnt mean anything-
i need a push a sign something that puts me back on course.

if i go for it you tell me i shouldnt have.
if i lay and wait you think i dont care.
i want to believe so badly.
morning is just a cold shower for dreams.
broke the little bone on top of my foot.
oh well i am so accident prone, i owed the universe some marrow.
not gonna back out on you.
3rd time in an mri this year.
there is no room colder or smaller.
there is something about the repetitive clicking that gives me visions.
i really feel for people who truly have to go through this on a daily basis or need crutches everyday of their life. honestly it is humbling for me.
and i probably needed that humility.
thanks for your understanding.
the painkillers and pride have my head in a bit of a tangle.
help me unwind it.
is there a song you count on every time?

i swear by the baxters
and the dropouts who only kept the books and the freshman fifteen
awake inside someone elses dream
alone in someone elses throne
gift wrapped wasp nest
blue ribbon jealousy contest
cant make everyone in the world unhappy all of the time
theres no glory on the road
its just a quick way to make you old
theres a new order
my disorders



i am just a sweettooth in the cavity search of life

folie a deux

sometimes the planets align
sometimes they dont
its like how part of my childhood was stolen when they took planetary status away from pluto
well be there one day
honestly i dont mind you saying fuck you to me-
when you included the "horse you rode in on"
it kind of went to hell
i am sick- like i cant ever get enough sleep or time or words

folie a deux is the idea of shared madness- the scientific term for romeo and juliet
i have a feeling that we share that with eachother when you have your headphones on

currently working on: taking it easy-
dont mean to be so heavy just want you to know why i look so gray sometimes lately.

patronus.

fixed gear friends with their handrolled tobacco
wearing scarves indoors
having abandoned che prints to the mall and taken up wearing the garb of the intifada
gaza chique
vintage misery
keep pumping the problems out
even if noones listening
or ever was
what if first timers really referred to cherries and not to crime
what if you could take it all back
been hiding in the house since becoming a househould name
except not rly
i fear that things i hate in myself are the only things youve ever loved
and just because youve read every book on life doesnt mean you have ever lived

isnt it ironic how "ironic" has no ironies in it

havent slept in days.
think i am starting to crack.
my room is thrashed, covered in matter that doesn't matter and i almost cried while watching garden state- i think its not funny anymore.
sick of watching what genius is.
sometimes genius is being completely ordinary.
when i look up at the sky i want to eat the stars.
its daylight again, everything goes back to being boring.

nothing too much to say. just gonna watch the world spin this

eyes the size of the moon.

iron and wine "the trapeze swinger"

wait, johnny marr is in fucking modest mouse?

mayday mayday. there has been a fire in the engine room. failure lights are up everywhere.
me and you just like always.
lit like leading actors. bright lights hitting your cheekbones in an otherwise darkened room.
this is disaster.
you smoke that last one down until it burns your fingers.
there is a penny spinning the table and twenty dollars broken like everything else in here.
basement apartments feel like funeral homes sometimes.
took the train just like the old days.
my old days that is. the good old days.
the stops are of comfort to me as they count me down.
when it flips from red to purple i know im getting close.
drove home from the train today. sweating out a hoody in august just like the good days.
scary.
i am anonymous to the cars as i drive back to the house i grew up in, cutting down the same streets ive ridden down for almost 20 years- slowing only when i see the house a block before mine, that signifies my victory lap.
i run up the stairs and throw myself on the bed.
i can only think of before this began and after it ends.
my last year.
i cant ever get my head around right now.
"red red wine" is playing on the radio.
i saw a good band last night and thought of good friends-
i only wish i would let my head go to these places more.
im getting sick of saying im sorry.
"i hate you, but have a good night."

adventure is in your head. the capacity for it, that is.

some people drink too much
talk too much
think too much
smile too much
ive got em all beat
crickets- but not in this city
and certainly not jiminy
its glowing with the heat of lightbulbs going off overheads
been staying up straight for the last week due to 6am flights and ideas
tommorrow is no different
wrote a long piece that hazily remembered tears going from left eye into right.. sideways on a tile floor
and another full of expectations and demands....
sitting here unhindered by spellcheck or sentence structure
i am not of the head to press the submit button on either of these
they are derivitive and self indulgent-
not interested in championing misery, at least right now
instead i was thinking of how there is a spark of something great inside of almost every single person i have met in my entire life and that maybe it should be our task to blow on it and guard it, feed it ideas as dry wood- watch it burn.
instead of blowing it out.
easier said than done...
goodnight moon.
goodnight loves.
i hope to be back to my same miserable self in the morning. until then spark and travel safely in your head.

dear man in the mirror: get over yourself.

if the opposite is true than of course
bad things happen to good people
of this i am convinced
love only has legs
so it can runaway
damn the chesire cats and white rabbits all to hell
reading keuroac across the country is something everyone should do
its funny that a confidence man inspires just the opposite
cresting on waves
i wait for my dreams to break on the sand
breathing white cities off the map into your nose
there is mint in the japanese eye drops im using.
they feel like little piece of glass at war with my pupils.
but they bleach my eyes white even sleep couldnt save me.
i feel like the santa maria-
third in line of discovery
i want to find a new world with you in hand
i cant wait to make it back
i have chemicals to erase my old troubles and welcome new ones with open arms
finding the right formulas, adding and subtracting myself from myself
i am dreaming of the walrus and mysteries
and you cause you never know: just kick rocks, kid.

i had a spark that just wouldnt start
youll find asleep in the lobby of an airport somewhere
waiting for delays to begin or end
waiting to fly forward or back in time, only away from now
excuse me but this starts/stops and jumps from the limits of the pen
i cant fit all my thoughts onto the back of this dirty american airlines ticket
summer is when i still feel the most free
was reading of the late sixties, of dylan and a golden era
made me want this so much more
so glad i have three genuine people in my life no matter the first weeks or flashes

crush on me like new love or a drug

sic transit itum

Theres an opposite to deja vu. They call it jamais vu. Its when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first time. Everybody is s stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.

This isn't learning from my mistakes anymore so much as it is damage control. I might as well be trying to paint a house that's on fire.

my conscious and i can out-talk david mamet

life as of late: "usually i like to get kissed before i feel fucked".

i place my bets on stars that are probably already burned out.

i fistfight the keyboard when i think of how things turned out.

bury me now, we'll figure out the rest later.

me versus myself.
i know that at some point the right words are gonna come to me.
that they are just going to spill out.
thats the only reason i still sit in these darkened rooms in front of blank screens.
i know deep down we can make ourselves bright.
we can shine.

my moods shape shift, they are magnets on a compass.
leaving the arrow spinning if it gets too close.
i hadnt been smiling or speaking up as much as i used to.
i have felt ugly on the inside and no matter what anyone says or does its the only thing going in my ears.
except whats the point.
whats the point of making it through unscathed?
the whole point of this is catharsis.
the whole plan is to get better.
to do the math.
to figure this all out.
to be ok.
to be ok with being ok.

us vs. the house - i kind of love the odds.

its almost a new shade under those lashes.
i am perplexingly optimistic.
its almost got me losing my head.
dodging flights.
words are like teeth.
only three places they can go...
flashed in smiles, rotted out, or spit out in fistfights.
not too sure how these end up.
we are becoming who we are meant to be.
we are becoming who we were.
time passes like bottles between them.
letting my self just float.
just feel ok.
being happy doesnt mean you are unauthentic.
breathing life is alright.
in doses you know.
i love life in 24 hour increments.
noone gets how my head feels when i lie sideways on pillows.
but noone gets anyone. so who cares?

listening to life on mars by bowie.
just snoozin.

the inside of my head is out breath from all of this jumping here and there.
sometimes love is the only thing we can call our own.

"ive been shooting up your perfume..."

S.orry's A.nd N.o's T.end to I.nfuriate

i am happy that you realize love still exists.
it is dark and needs to be dusted off.
maybe i am only happy in this realization in the early a.m.s in the light of this computer screen.
maybe i am not happy at all.
im not even too sure myself at times.
why would i ever want my moods to be stabilized.
sometimes you have to break a heart to unbreak your own.
i bleieve in falling in love midsleep.
i believe in dreaming about you every chance i get.
and yeah november spawned a monster, but so did whatever month were in right now.
cursing leap years cos without them ill be done sooner.
if i had a penny to my name id throw it down a wishing well.
im best when im making things worse.
lets go out tonight and make some bad decisions.
i miss old friends. truly.
but actually they are still here, i just stopped taking notice
you got my voicemail
"leave a message im out..."
having the time of my life.
love.

if you get the chance to put the pieces back together tonight, ill be waiting at the other end of this phone

toast to noone. who cares. i dont care what they say about this. it is magic- not smoke and mirrors. it is real. every drop of sweat and every milemarker. remember me, or i hope you dont. i scream out my window at this sleeping city. my throat hurts and my hair smells like smoke. do you ever get the feeling that your insides and your outsides dont really go together?
----------------------------------
oh yeah im sorry for almost breaking your toe
and my heart
and that promise
and your dream
----------------------------------
the only thing i am sure of is- however you think of me is wrong.

we'll tell sincere lies all night long

this is all neither here nor there, i dont know why i try to convince you of what you already know, even if its something you barely and reluctantly admit. it's still true and you still know it, however you like to justify it.

Sometimes i wonder if you justify it in your head the same way you justify it with your mouth.

you are the wonder that keeps the stars apart (tidbits written on napkins and found in pockets over the last year).

weakends and springbrakes: in this town the hometeam mascot is the shapeshifter. you can take your president and your wars out in the desert. i am content with my kings and queens in nevada.

everyone is an open wounds. everywhere is a masquerade.

lets split this life- dont think i can take a whole one on my own. the inside of my head is a time machine. and it only goes to the past. always making different choices. taking chances/not taking chances. late night blurs vs. the clarity of morning light. never too sure who is gonna show up or whos gonna call in sick- i wouldnt trust your love farther than i could throw it. there are people asleep in my house right now but none of them are you.

dear collector,
why must i be a spade or a diamond. i just want to be kept in your hand and bet on in dark rooms. i want to be a heart. i dont want to fold. my insides beat through the air.- i am in a dark room off a bright yellow hallway. how many times can i sing along to the same song. you are plymouth rock. you are the 4 minute mile.

been raising hell but now that its grown up and moved out. i dont know what to do with myself.

new years. every single one is worse than the last. like a parade of dreams breaking and marching out of my life, trampling one another. she is the wonder that keeps the stars apart. i cant breathe when i step into the shower, i tasted the blood off of the walls. sat on the ledge and watched the water bounce off of the tiles until it turned cold. goosebumps on my skin are tiny armies of hope fighting in my heart. she thinks there is nothing between us but air. that maybe we are just insects crashing on this big rock spinning through the galaxy. i am losing my nerve.

not sure how much time ive wasted. one day i just stopped keeping track.

"you think i am the devil. but only because i have lived in hell. i want to get out".

the truth is even if im shining, im just old light beamed out ages ago.

i have been typecast.
a square peg forever trying to squeeze into round holes.
sometimes I drink to forget,
but mostly i write so i never will.
cursed myself down and out for all time.
i am always leaving you high and dry.
i am always leaving you out in the cold.
because i am regular.
minus all of this.
dont try and argue with manics.
its not worth your breath.
something about this year has got me crawling back inside my shell.
its ok to breakdown.
its ok to get out of your mind.
dont sleep or eat for days on end- im forgetful when it comes to comfort and consistency. sometimes i am just letting you shine.
even with all the greens and honey in these eyes.
growing up became growing old.
ive learned to keep myself quiet.
to be a stow away in this life.
to not make waves but sometimes scream and fight over nothing so great at all.
ive been paranoid that friends would kill me,
i know ive thought of killing some of then.
maybe only in my head.
"You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light"
the sun is coming up.
the truth about lonliness is youre only as good as the company you keep.
everyone is forever saying 'i miss the way things were' and missing old versions of eachother.
were still here. all of us.
brush your finger tips on my eyelids like you did in the glory days.
i promise ill make it back.
you are all too sweet.
and i dont deserve it.
i never did.

there is nothing between us but air

you know the funny thing about the super bowl is that vendors need to be prepared to have t-shirts should either team win after the game. so they make up thousands and thousands of shirts saying both teams won. then whichever team doesnt win they ship those shirts off as donations to third world countries. the strangest part being that you know that someone in these countries that only knows one fact about the united states: that the bears won the 2007 super bowl.
a fact which is ofcourse wrong.
kind of strange.

i actually wanted to see you today. and tommorrow.

just trying to slip through the cracks

watched garden state in the dark tonight. we all create worlds for ourselves so we can forget theirs. ive been working on mine since i was 10.