the oxidation of Joan of Arc.

the mind drinks less and less.
impatience.
highways full of crowds going somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, nowhere.
The gasoline refugee.
Towns turn into motels,
people in nomadic surges from place to place,
following the moon tides,
living tonight in the room where you slept this noon and I the night before.

part two (i forget so much of what i write its beginning to scare me).

hes a lonely planet
dont stir and wake
everythings ok
give or take
the cats got the canary spinning in its ribcage
did i mention i came dressed for the intervention
(and if you were dying soon would you try to find snow in the deep summer
the june bugs dancing in wonder
and i still wonder now
if my words will stil turn you inside out)
hes a honeyjar
with that pretty face, lets never lose the lid
and keep those rosey lips in
(he breathes wet through insect eyes)
in multiples of four, no less than sixteen
mr. sandmans been showing his beam
when he walks into a room the walls lean in to listen
keep a calendar this way youll know the last time you came through
oh.
"i know what youre going through"
well i dont- its more of a "paper or plastic" grocery store choice to me
but ill sympathize with anything to get through to you
do you know what its like to watch reruns of yourself night after night
to offer nothing and expect everything in return
to cock your head just right to appear arrogantly humble
if we hurry well make the morning edition
cos everybody likes to read the bad news
theyve tapped the phone be very careful what you say
speak in code about singing birds and sleepy eyed women
his heads a junkyard for rusted midnight thoughts
hes criminally carefree
when the pills swallow the worry
hes digging like forty nine
hes making you press rewind
hes a thunderstorm so bright you shut your eyes
he is a hurricane

honestly, afraid. i cant ever sleep either.

Put the the planets in swing
Make jupiter sing
The afternoon light
Ignites
The back of my head
Spend years trying to cloud our head and not feel a thing
Just to turn around and erase the clouds so we can remember everything
Throw handcuffs on that boy
When the check comes he never pays
His cheekbones carve my moods
He shakes like a leaf
He's clicking like an old answering machine
He howls at the moon
He's breathes wet thru insect eyes
Canyon lights at night chase away the boring days

And I don't worry about death because I've seen the date I'm gonna die and its so far away.

Try lying for a change, it's the currency of the world.

its oddly haunting the way that sometimes entries from a year ago can reflect perfectly how i feel today.
its like an echo sent out over the weeks and months and pages of the calendar.
not always but sometimes.

a few weeks ago i considered mentioning the fact that while i once wrote "every new years is worse than the last" i didnt feel that way anymore
oh eight had broken the january curse
now im glad i didnt
cuz i realized it might not have
it may have just pushed it back a month
or extended it, depending on how this all looks on play-back

i find it a bit odd to be waiting for retrospect

its easy to get older not so much wiser

the light splashes in and out. its almost violent. everything rational inside of me tells me that its the dull white of a voicemail. but my eyes are playing tricks on me. i see it purple textured velvet. the tv is blaring whatever. i can see light is sneaking in the cracks everywhere of this house. like vermin. take a vote, the eyes have it. there is too much space here. between me and everything else in this room. i wish i had a habit bad or not just to pass the time.

cantsleepcantsleepcantsleep

nothing lasts forever, except the earth and sky.
i should have become a farmer.

everything real in love and life comes without batteries included

The world is your oyster, what does that mean? That I'm just grinding sand waiting to be sucked down by box dye blondes and chased with hynotik. .... dumb-luck, but there's no such thing as smart luck. Happy as a clam but how happy can clams be? Dreaming of being steamed or robbed of their only worldly possession, pearls, sounds like a total soccer mom fantasy- only with upscale spas and mugger fantasies. I am a starfish waiting to regenerate a point. Till then, I am kind of pointless. I got a bad rap for not caring but I still pay my dues and wear my seat-belt in front seats- though I'm considering changes. I am a fixer-upper. Feeling the buzz but too far off the hive for any of the other bees to get it. And man I gotta tell you, the years are like friends in your childhood. They stop being so friendly. They only want to reminisce. And no matter what they keep moving and changing you whether you want them to or not. Drive, fuck, and sleep safe. I'd like to know that you awaken in the morning with out a headache or blurry eyes. Love is in the air, just get ourselves the right equipment to grab it. Its like moths headed for the brightest light, which aint me. But I'm ready to sweat and run and get there. And just cause you got a scar on your wrist or a charcoal stomach, were supposed to get eachother? Cause I don't really even get me. I'm too busy calling everyone else crazy- in these late slurred debates on how everyone else is not exactly like us- to worry about you calling me crazy. Tho all the other rhymes for crazy work on me lazy, hazy, etc.

notes on change.

i hate explaining my own interpretations to people. id rather you come up with your own- but this one seems to be pretty glaring....

there is a distinct difference between the idea "seasons change, but people dont" and the idea "everyone changes". this difference is simply the connotations of the two. in the former: the idea is brought forth that there are certain parts of you that are inherently there. forever. whether they are a part of your DNA or how you were raised- they are so deep and solidly rooted they cannot change. to me these are your ideals, your morality, your internal monologue. they remain constant though are defined differently as your mind and heart mature. to simplify, people who are kind have something switched on within them that will not change. on the other extreme malicious people will always be malicious. not to say there isnt gray area between the two- where someone who is kind can act maliciously and vice versa. obviously there are more rare examples where something can impact someone in such a tremendous way that it will cause a deep change in them. these remain constant through celebrity, through tragedy, through happiness, through loss. i can feel certain things in myself and ways that i know i will always feel- no matter what else changes around me. if you read my actual diary entries from when i was 12 to now, while the language and subject matter has changed- and hopefully has gotten a bit better. my subconscious impacting me and my decisions seems to remain faithful. however, what was meant by the latter "everyone changes, i used to be tiny", is the idea of growing up. honestly, i am not who i was a year ago or 3 years ago or 10 years ago. i think i would hate myself if i never changed. this is an experiment more than anything. if new cultures, people, and art didnt impact me and change me than this would be fraudulent. i hope most of these changes are for the better, though i know i am human and make mistakes. sometimes i turn right when i should have turned left. but anything you loved or hated about me from the beginning have not changed- these are the things that make us each different from each other and either magnetize or polarize from others.

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