I recently stumbled upon this again, looking through my library of photos. I was going to put up some of my own pictures I've taken, but this one means a lot more to me. It was a birthday present for me a few months back from someone who at the time was my closest friend, a woman who I don't think realizes what it meant for me to have someone like her in my life at that point in time.

Five day old paint.

We Lay in bed,
that broken nail on your pinkie
tracing
down the back of my shoulder.
White carpet stained with coffee and cigarettes
five day old paint covering six day old plaster over a seven night old hole in the wall
Angry then, we laugh now and reminisce....

Remember those times we yelled at pedestrians out of my piece-of-shit chevy?
Black tie, white shirt, black pants, We screamed ‘Mormon!’ and they were left to the sound of asphalt turning, red light fading in the dark.

that somber winter sun setting in the horizon, light reflecting off our mirror into your golden eyes
I’ve seen those eyes
I’ve seen them laugh
I’ve seen them cry
I’ve seen them nearly die
I’ve seen them angry
I’ve seen them one inch away from me,
I’ve seen them hold me

I’ve seen them save me.

The sun blinks out, and night creeps in, and with it,
the sounds of jubilation - divine retribution - for a broken and empty day.
Made soluble by the scattered light of streetlights and neon toys.

Recognition glows, I can watch the wheels turn,
You smile.
“Let’s go” You say, and that soft voice turns something in me, and I am your loyal dog.
That soft voice, bare touch of tear from that weeknight ago.

To switch so fast, to hurt, to cry, to love, to laugh,
to burn so brightly for such a short time.
To recognize we are but a shooting star, immeasurably minute in the working of the world,
and yet still given this gift, each heartbeat strong, finding itself yet closer to that final drop of the drummer’s beat,
and yet compelled to rush forward as blazenly and as boldly and as strongly as never before,
to never back down, to fight for that which must be duly ours by right of existence alone.
We need to live, We need to feel,
We need to discover.

We walk outside.

What is sexuality?

Lately I've seemed to have a run where every girl I meet is bisexual. At first I thought it was on the rise but then I started thinking it's not that it's a rising phenomenon, so to speak, its just that bisexuality in women grows more socially acceptable by the day. Male culture, however, is still stagnantly homophobic. It's seemed to grow only more so over time. In the early 1900's, James Dean and Marlon Brando - two well known, highly respected actors - had a relationship together. It was not something thrown into the face of everyone, but it was just an accepted thing. When the 60's and 70's came suddenly there was a huge explosion of 'bisexuals' in the media, between David Bowie, Lou Reed, Mick Jagger, and others. But I think by the time the 80's came around and the conservative backsplash began, anything remotely gay or bisexual was shunned in male culture. Slowly now more men are accepted for being gay, but I have only met one man that admits to being bi. There seems to be this conception that if there is just one thing remotely sexual between two men, those men can be gay and gay alone. I've kissed another man before, out of curiosity. It felt like giving somebody CPR, so I take that to mean I must not be gay. On occasion I do however still feel slightly bicurious. This to me is a completely normal thing, and most guys could probably admit that to be true if they did some soul searching. However, to admit to any of that publicly is to be labeled 'gay', even though 99 percent of people I have been with have been women. This is not a bad thing, but it still drastically changes social interactions with people.
But the point I am trying to make out of all of this rambling would be that there is no straight-bi-gay list, set in stone. Nobody is 100 percent straight and nobody is 100 percent gay. Even in the Lesbian/Gay community this is ignored or downplayed, and bisexuals are often looked down upon. The Kinsey scale rates from 0-6, with an additional X for asexuality. 0 is strictly heterosexual and 6 is strictly homosexual. This also varies from moment to moment. Overall, I would personally be a 1, but it varies so that one moment I'd be a 0, the next I could be a 3, and quite frequently I am an X. That may even be my predominant number.

Perhaps eventually people will fully realize this and put away the idea that people have to be 'gay', 'straight' or 'bi', and can simply interact with each other as they see fit, without societal repercussions.

Man and Silhouette

A silhouette of sound, wafting around your body in the cool blue night. The Man and his sax, both strangers to these times sit abandoned on the side of the road, ever wandering, ever searching for that place where once again everything makes sense, everything fits.
That same place we're all looking for...

I remember when I was small, and every hallway was a chasm, every tree another character with its own actions and ideals. Now things seem so distant, and anything recognized as larger than myself is sinister, powerful, with its own ulterior motives. so instead I sit beneath this tree, morning earth dampening my pants, in an effort to find some sort of meaning, to find some sort of benevolence in this world.
"Everything is beautiful, just don't be afraid to look"
And so I'm lost out here. And I'm lost when I'm in my own room. And I'm lost when I'm driving. And I'm lost when i know where to go.

But then I look up, and I see your smiling face charging at me. Suddenly none of that matters. I no longer care about where I'm going. I know where I'm at, and that's all that I need to know.
"All it takes is to look up".

Ipod wiped itself clean.

I've never freaked out so hard as this morning, when I plugged my ipod into my car and realized all of my songs were gone. I wonder if the neighbors heard me scream. I guess I shut off my computer w/o hitting eject for the ipod first, or something. Still not sure.
All is not lost, however. Most of my songs are on my laptop, So I haven't lost completely everything. I am still missing about 2000 songs though, and I'll not know which ones I'm missing until I go to listen to them and they are no longer there.
This has been a sad day.

We're in the Future Motherfuckers!

Every once in a while it's nice to sit back and realize what we've accomplished....
International Space Station with its own Space Robot, Particle Accelerators, Laser weaponry in development by the Air Force, quantum teleportation, robotic weapons (aircraft and a ground unit called SWORD), exoskeletons a la iron man in the works, and even the internet. This leaves everything but the one remaining image of the future....the flying car.

UNTIL NOW, MOTHERFUCKERS!

http://www.terrafugia.com/

The Terrafugia 'Transition'! they call it a 'drivable airplane' but come on, people, that's the exact same thing as a flying car. It's out there, right now, for the uber rich. When the average citizen starts to see this thing fly over head....watch out, there's going to be some panic in the streets. Followed by jubilation. Followed by hijacking of rich people's flying cars. At least, I know I'll be stealing the first one that I see.

Why the hell are not more people in the know about this? why the hell isnt there rejoicing in the streets, a whole flying car parade/ air show? Why is the media not covering this?

This is the future, people! we're in it! Get outside and enjoy it!

Album Review 1: Blockhead - "Uncle Tony's Coloring Book"

Got this album last week. Blockhead's an interesting artist. His early works, Downtown Science and Music by Cavelight, still have the DJ roots, but have a very strong New York feel to it. I've never even been to New York, but the second you listen to 'cherry picker' or 'insomniac olympics' you will know exactly what I'm talking about. "Uncle Tony's Coloring Book", however, takes a noticeable step away from these works. While this is easily his most accessible release yet, the majority of the New York flair is gone, replaced with a more blues and western-themed ambience, as well as focusing much, much more on the beat - most noticeably on 'OK Corral'. None of this is a bad shift, and it makes for a great album to drive to.
If you have not heard of Blockhead yet, I would say this is the best album to start off with, and then move on to Downtown Science and the others.
Between 'Drive to it' and 'Listen to it', this album is definitely a better drive.
8/10

Hotel Room Window

A fresh orange, a cup of coffee

Warm morning sunlight breaks through the white drapes

Of a cold, lonely winter morning.

I look back to the bed, and see a pale thigh,

A tussle of wavy chestnut hair,

Entangled within the nest of floral print bedsheets

Turning to stare back out my hotel room window,

I realize that it will never be certain what the day may bring...

But in this moment, this quiet peace,

I take solace in the knowledge that everything is good,

And perfect,

And I smile...

Brain Rot

the sounds of johnny cash fill my head

as the last drop of whiskey slides down my throat

the juice is wet but i feel dry, dry, dry

and there’s no place left for me to go

I sit at the bar staring at the bottom of my glass

and it might as well be my whole life

I’ve gone so many long years just to sit on my ass

to sit and wait for the reaper’s knife

oh, i tried to work, but the work had no end,

it just distracted me for a while

and i tried to have friends but they might as well be dead

when i don’t see any light behind their smile

but now i’m stuck here down in el paso

and not a shadow to call home

and i’ll fight and i’ll scream and i’ll bite and i’ll yell

but there’s no where left for me to go

I’ll break a window and i’ll spit on a cop

just so they’ll take me down

but i can’t fight the feeling that it’s never gonna stop

and in this quicksand i think i’m gonna drown

so pick me up and take me away with you

to wherever it is you’re gonna go

i’m just tryin’ to find a little love

and someplace i can call home!

Be Loose, be Free, be Forgiving

Strength, seriousness, and morality is a sign of death.

Just as an old, taut tree will be ripped from the earth in the midst of a storm, so shall the tree that bends with the wind be spared.

The Three

Three grungy motherfuckers in an old, shitkicker honda barreling down the I-40 at 110 miles an hour....A train’s a-comin’....Somebody hit play, on comes the Cramps - ‘Sunglasses After Dark’.

Enter guitar feedback....
Boom Cha! Boom Cha! Boom Cha! Boom Cha! Boom Cha! Boom Cha! Boom Cha! Boom Cha!

I got somethin’ to say to you and you better listen’
I’m gonna tell ya how to be cool in one easy lesson - Go!

Boom Cha! Boom Cha! Boom Cha! Boom Cha!

Gotta catch up - Gotta catch that train.
Two big rigs ahead slide right, giant water bugs on a black river, splitting the land in half. At a certain speed all the cars stop, it’s just the land tearing out from under the chassis, wind blowing in an angry howl of the earth at this testament of man, this unholy creation...

It’s getting close.

boom cha. boom cha. boom cha. boom cha.

The Three wake up, hair starts to rise in tune with voices, who’s going to get there first, train or car, train or car!? Old fart wont get out of the way, they’re locked in, smoke vomiting out of the wagon in front. Slowly...Slowly...............slowly the camry at left slows down, the door is open, the three pull through.

We’re gonna make it....We’re gonna make it...We’re gonna make it...We’re makin’ it...We’re makin’ it...We made it! We made it! We Made It!

The Three pull through with the beam slamming down, the freight train coasts behind unperturbed, the old fart is trapped behind a sudden wall, and the old shitkicker honda pounds on, ever into the desert, Boom Cha! boom cha. boom...

When I hear her calling

When I hear her calling

Calling from the city streets

I get back up on my feet

And I start again

Walking

When I hear her calling

From around the next corner

From behind some new door

I

See her

Her Reflection in the children’s eyes

Her Shadow on the streetlight skies

When I hear her calling

I cannot see where she’s been or goes

And why I’m following-damned if I know

but

I can hear her calling

And though this path may be Her road

I know this path is mine

And mine alone

the Will of the Arrow

the Will of the Arrow

Now rises the feeble heart of our discontent

Chained by sorrow and exasperation

We shall know no boundaries beyond

Our own dispositions, Nay

Shall we give flight to the eagle that is our

Hopes and Dreams

Unless we give knowledge to the beast that

Ensnares our very souls

When, and only when,

We acquiesce to our shadows,

And see the darkness within our hearts,

Forgiving the darkness within the others,

Shall we give flight to the eagle that is our

Hopes and Dreams

We shall not lay blame on

The archers that let fly our wayward arrows

Nor shall we lay blame on

The wind that casts us astray

It is Us,

The Will of the Arrow,

That has the power to change our course

To the desired mark,

And let us

Reform ourselves

From someone

To Somebody

I travel the desert

I Travel the Desert

I’ve traveled the desert

And I’ve seen the glory there

I’ve traveled the plains

And I’ve been in the stories there

These years were just a blink and I can’t stop to think

All the people I’ve missed and the animals I’ve pissed

All the days drank away and games never played

And in the end if I’m still dead,

Bury me beneath a tree,

With the wind and the sea and the sky to breathe

Little Blue Moon

Little Blue Moon

Little Blue Moon

Don’t be standin’ around

Don’t be dreamin, yeah

Little Blue Moon

Best not be breathing still

Best not be leaving, yeah

Little Blue Moon

Want to be getting on

Want to be needing, yeah

Little Blue Moon

Make yourself at home

Little Blue Moon

Make yourself at home

Before you go,

Got to go it alone

The wandering tides of the West

Beckon you give time a rest

Little Blue Moon

Find your place at last

Blaze-O

AA little precursor to this, I woke up one day and had this entire, stoner cover of Day-O completely stuck in my head. I don't know why, but I had to write it down.Ay-

Blaze-o

Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl

Blaze, he say Blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blay-ay-aze-o

Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl

Smoke all night fill up da room

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Smoke da ganja till morning come

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Come, Mr. Dealer Mon, sell me some mo’ ganja

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Come, Mr. Dealer Mon, sell me some mo’ ganja

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

It's six foot, seven foot, eight foot, BONG!

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Six foot, seven foot, eight foot, BONG!

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Blaze, he say blay-ay-aze-o

(hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blay-ay-aze-o

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Smoke so much weed, I’m goin bananas!

(hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Hit thee Deadly Black Tarantula – My bong!

(hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

It's six foot, seven foot, eight foot, BONG!

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Six foot, seven foot, eight foot, BONG!

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

blaze, he say blay-ay-aze-o

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Come, Mr. Dealer Mon, sell me some mo’ ganja

(hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Come, Mr. Dealer Mon, sell me some mo’ ganja

(hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Blaze-o, blay-ay-aze-o

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl)

Blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blaze, he say blay-ay-aze-o

(Hey Mon come, let’s smoke one mo’ bowl

And Still Your Name Lingers...

Shooting heroin in my car,

Overlooking the cliff of Saint Bourear

Frank Sinatra on the radio

And still your name lingers in the air

The waves roll up the cliff,

The salt sailing on the wind

Reminds me of something not so long ago

A time when time stood still

Just to say hello

Twelve hours passed in the blink of an eye

And I’m still here, barely moving

Christ, I’m hardly breathing

Lord, my heart’s hardly beating

And all I can do is think of you

How I miss you so

The passenger door opens

You hop in

You smile, and all my pain has gone away

I knew you were still here I say

You smile, and we drive off

Chasing the sun

Oh how it feels when

Everything is perfect again

Until my eyes flutter open

And I’m still here

And you’re not there

And the sun has long set.

Tell me,

Where did you go?

Upstream

Upstream

I’ve been riding on this boat for about sixteen years

And I ain’t done nothing that ain’t got me nowhere

Feels like I’m goin’ up river, ain’t got nowhere else to go

I just keep paddlin on upstream, and I’m goin’ all alone

I’ve set out my directions but I donno where this river’s gonna go

I just keep paddlin on upstream, and I’m goin’ all alone

Now I’ve only got one paddle, and this ship’s got a hole

Better get up there fast, or my boat’s just gonna be

Another ship, cast down in the sea, left with no name

Remembered by none but me.

Subconscial View

Those spirits moving in their undulating rhythms, can’t say they’re not calling to me, but they do wave to me, and carry on in their effervescent atmosphere, making their patterns in the sky, ascending to an invisible heaven to rejoin the rebirth of the universal mind, it’s eye watching time not space, lingering out of place, another dimension, space time and mind, the within without within. Make yourself home on the crystal ship that isn’t sailing anywhere; it’s already there. Drifting in time, the sands are frozen in place, the hourglass is rotating around the sand, the pedestal moves in place, molecular frozen motion it’s what’s causing all the corrosion, layering upon itself to build itself into a new momentum, this reality is going to be one monument to discover. This painting of God spans across Time.

the Recipe

The Recipe

This recipe here is just for you
I got it straight from Timbuktu
It’s a simple plan to make a stew

Made simply from a spoiled shrew
A turnip—and some carrots too

You pour them all into a pot
And heat it up until it’s hot

It’s relatively simple to do,
This stew made out of spoiled shrew
A turnip and some carrots too
The meal is done, it’s just for you
Just please remember to bring a spoon

The Oasis

The Oasis

Meandering along the desert at a slow yet steady pace

I can still hear the arid wind whispering her name

Sand whipping around my face, a slight smell of smoke lingering in the air

I stop beneath a boulder taking solace in the shade from all the death that surrounds me

Over the top of a dune, I can see something

In the distance, those towers spiral up out of nothing

In the distance, still so far away, always eluding my grasp

With a renewed sense of strength I steer my course in that direction

Maybe this time I’ll discover what I came for

I’ve been traveling on this path for many a year now, her face still etched in my brain

What is she doing, back in Time’s Palace, waiting to come again?

I need an oasis, I need an escape, I need something to give me my salvation.

There’s nothing to turn to out here, everything dead and gone

Nothing stirs in this forsaken land, save a mirage of two spiral towers.

Mass Hysteria

Mass Hysteria

Mass Hysteria

Paranoid Confusion

The Madman laughs

At what the radio’s pollutin’

The crowd scattered

From the head-on collision

Then come right back

To see what they were missin’

They said, “Goddamn,

Never saw that one comin’”

Just like every other day,

Ya know that they’ve learned nothin’

The killer in the chair, said

“I hope this doesn’t burn”

He flipped the switch sat in the chair, said

“Now it’s my turn”

Like the priest who’s preachin’

”Love thy Neighbor”

Though he hates the teens in labor

Or the man who watched his friend

Die of pneumonia,

Though he really coulda saved her

It’s Mass Hysteria

It’s Paranoid Confusion

And the Madman’s still laughin

At what the radio’s pollutin’

The Murder

The moon was full on this quiet night,

The city, sleeping under warm neon light

Did not know what occurred between the streets

In the back alleys, the soft shuffling of feet

A window breaks, it all begins

Inside their house the family felt safe,

The cat curled up above the fire place,

Nobody heard the sounds they made

Creeping along inside the shade

A muffled scream, again, again

No alarms were triggered, no suspects found

Nobody who knew dared make a sound

The walls have a new shade of red…

the Animals

The Animals


Cling Clang, Ping Pang
The moon smiles its sweet delight
Whirr howl, sneer growl
The animals will dance tonight

The rivers run red
The trees have been bled
The ground quivers in its fright
And as the clouds weep
And the children creep
The animals still dance tonight

Another time,
Another place,
Perhaps we’d stop
This sad disgrace
But not here, not now
With such fear, such doubt
And the gods --- they just point and laugh

And so men are born
And bred to scorn
And nothing ever seems to change
They come, they go
Some fast, some slow
Murderous in their unwitting rage

As so the gods still dance
And they laugh and they prance
While we lie here, all but forgotten
With old men crying, and young men dieing
We’re left here like something rotten

So while they laugh in delight
As we panic in fright
Like a mouse running head over end
Just remember my friend
This message I send
That the animals will dance tonight

Perhaps I should be here

Perhaps I should be here

"my whole life, i've always thought the sea was so large, and i was so small, that what could i possibly matter? but then, i looked around, and noticed everything around me. all the trees and the birds and the squirrels. the grass and ants and grasshoppers. and even the little things i dont even know of. and it occurred to me, that if none of these things mattere,d then why would they exist? and so, if all these things have some sort of meaning to their existence, then i should too". it's a lil thing i heard someplace, somewhere, and i've somewhat felt better about myself since then.

Mescaline

A new Door is opened
An old Door is closed
Yet through a new window
A world yet unknown
Lose touch with reality
Free your mind and smile
So much, so little the eye can see
Stayed home but traveled miles
See and hear and think in vain
Happiness, glory, horror, pain
The sky is opened
The clouds surround you
Don't touch the sun
It just might blind you
Remember things yet to come
Forget things said and done
Remember more the colors in the field
Not the battles lost and won
More knowledge given
But at a price
That knowledge is taken
With your life

Why I'm Here

I found a bunch of my old writings recently, and thought that I would start a little blog mainly so I have someplace with easier access to them.

From here on I'll probably put up poems when i get the urge, and otherwise review new albums I get, new scientific discoveries, and thoughts I have floating around my head. Whatever I feel like, basically... Fuck you if you don't like it.