Saturday, October 29, 2005

bad photo of 'hey baby'

what the fuck
i thought there was something good
i never tried hard enough
i guess
man what the fucking hell
shit you fucking
i guess i never made it
i probably didnt try my fucking best
everyone knows they know better
gate keepers
their little legs,
kept me in technically
a better place.

and as a i try to express this
a compiled program crashes
just let me know how much i don't care.

you probably still run windows, or apple
how great of you to try so hard,

for a moment i can enjoy actors,
that's bigender you fag
get over yourself
everyone's beautiful
or fired,
slave, even then
what the fuck.

vodka laced with fake sugar
and kits
no, lots of laughs
the hick ups
gotta piss
thank me latter,
with all that fucking
cake on the wall,

lick both their fucking pussies,
can you believe it?
i wonder what they're like

and suck cock
drink dick
some other time

these two girls
are gorgeous
what more can be said?

lots more vodka,
they're not here
it's all imagination
at this point.

and on an unrelated tone
stop calling me fat
you bitch
drunk bitch
you did it in a doorway
fuck off,
i was twelve
smoke your crate and go to hell
or get better
your son needed you
twelve years ago.

but this is a bad poem
for you,
cause i want you
and i don't know how to say it
when you're miles away
the relationship is mostly impossible
and i'm just going to go autopiliot
with a fantasy the size of the universe
baby, yeah.

'bad photo, bad poem, right now a feeling of two people i love'

Friday, October 28, 2005


This is kind of how I'm feeling.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

corners m.

The feeling that I just had to
throw up on you
and throw up inside of you
with a pair of shorts on.

You sent me postcards, artcards,
birthday cards.

Not that it really matters now,
since I wasn't even thinking of you.

I was thinking of the little legs in the shorts
and the legs coming out of them,
and how that seemed fast.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

seven p. x.

Perspects, well, yeah I knew that. But I'm also into loving people beyond their religion, and their superficial reactions, no matter how much temporary harm they may cause. Okay maybe I'm not into that but I do love L., a lot.

On the one hand, I really do not think a religion relates much to a person that follows it, beyond certain attitudes that crop up and certain states of being. Especially as a kid one is still independent of the whole thing, whereas as an adult the detachment might be more subsurface. Moreover my feeling is that a religion is a projection and tool of how that person already feels, not the other way around.

Personally I am more interested in the experience rather than the constant association, though at the moment I am a practicing Taoist. And beyond that I am more interested in the person then their religion.

As to Christians and their beliefs relating to the afterlife, well I think that it's not really the idea of eternity being spent in heaven around other Christians being an ideal, but rather more a sense of if you drop a rock it will fall kind of thing. Their belief being that they are the dropped rocks falling in God's creation. But of course you knew that too.

And thanks for giving me some feedback, it made posting something today a lot nicer.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

individual one (possible collusional antidote)

Is it more important that I write about people I'm attracted to, and things I like, or to write about how people I know worship others as gods? Non-sexual mostly, that last one. The separation of an individual from those around him, is very important. One should strive for spontaneity, even if one ends up wearing a t-shirt proclaiming 'autism'.

I dreamt last night that I was making a movie, directing a large set of people, test shots developed through q-tips in locker rooms. You had to shake the q-tip and it was covered in melting wax and it would either turn into a photo or fuse up and smoke out. Some claymation sections. Plot was something revolutionary on the common.

Second dream was in a wasteland of mall ruins and metal. Storms and green lightning, purple skies. Aliens, yes. An industrial wasteland along the collapsed malls, all on oceanside cliffs. Ruins of factories, stores, concrete and metal. Climbing down the side of cliff, storms overhead, black skies green lighting. Out from the parking lot to this cliff, and down. A hunt was on, everything was upon this moment. And there was Mulder, two Mulders. As I climbed down I could see them both below amongst another set of commercial building leftovers. One of them was the beast we had to kill. "You're my nigga Mulder!" I called out. "Yeah I'm ya nigga!" So I knew that one was the fake, I killed him with a spear technology thing, he faded away to a card on the ground, which blinked and the information it had was frightening.

Last weekend after the wedding breakfast, a woman tells me about heaven, and how it will be built on earth. I respect her faith, but personally I believe there is no heaven or hell or afterlife really. I think that consciousness is an aftereffect of a living body and when it dies so do "you". However, I do feel there is something after death, and this relates to a more mystic, spiritual concept I have, a faith in the individuals spirit and the noosphere.

Of course that woman's husband had just died. I don't give condolences, I feel it's wrong.

Thinking of her, and this otherwise larger outside family, and how I saw others I do know look up to them as if they were gods. I saw a girl at the library today, well a young woman, perhaps Japanese, anyway she was fantastic, strong, brilliant. But as the time passed my desire for her became seemingly whole and then as I observed her for a second from another perspective, the place where those feelings occupied was empty. Not that I didn't suddenly talk to her, which I wanted to. She was tutoring someone. I was tutoring too, in a way. I couldn't tell how old she was, I think it was a possible controversy, that was my mental excuse. She could of been my age though. Who cares at this point?

I checked out books on a variety of things, one of which was the Oxford book on Shinto. Two friends of my brother are in conflict over religion. One comes from a fundametalist background, the other from a more diverse place. L.'s parents have taught him that anyone who isn't a Christian will go to hell, and moreover perverted his character with many conflicting ideals. So when he learned that K.'s grandmother was a Buddhist, well L. told him that his grandmother was going to hell. K. is also a Christian. He and his family have expressed to L. and L.'s family that this hurts and please think twice and stop. K.'s family silently suggests that it's true: she will go to hell. I am learning about Shinto for one because I feel that a widening perspective may help plant the Trojan horse which will free L.'s mind to think for itself. The problem lies in the fact that L.'s faith slash philosophy states that all who differ are wrong. My philosophy wants to give respect to all beliefs, and my feeling is that I want L. to respect at least to the point of allowing other's their independent beliefs. However, in so doing I do not allow L. his fundamentalist rearing. It may seem silly, but it is a conflict for me. One of many in so far as my feelings and L. is concerned. Fundamentalist parents can be so cruel. And doing nothing can make one feel so right and wrong.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

koi, pond

My fish was in a bowl when I realized it had cancer. I saw the growth on it's upper fin, and it was making him swim to the side a bit. I took him out and slapped him into a plastic bag. Running, I made it to the vet who had me sit for a while. He said it would be about $200 to fix my fish. I paid, and felt better afterwards. He gave me a little jar with the cancer inside. It made me sick. I ate it, as he recommended.

Going to a wedding later today. I don't want to go. I hate weddings. Or do I? On top of that, I feel too fatty. Eating too much and sitting too has gotten me all soft. Which means I have to dig through to find something to wear. And on top of it all I am paranoid about that cancer I swallowed, I think it might be contagious.

I wrote a long haiku thing which ended with,

"Drink tea, yes, be free
make the tea loose leaf green, black
create, not suffer"

I want to feel that way right now, but these obligations, and the time it's going to take to lose this flab have got me in a blank thought zone. And I keep wearing the same pair of shoes.

Friday, October 21, 2005

A duck for people now

Not really practical. I sit here on the edge, of course you can see that. They say I'm just an object, but no moreso than you're idea that created me or wanted to buy me. Even just recognizes me, isn't that the object in your head, doesn't that come first? I am a comforter to those who see me, and a friend to those who take me in when they bathe. The little boy takes me in with him and I float in the water, but it only occupies the space inside the edge. He gets out and leaves. I live a lonely life. When the woman comes in to bathe she sometimes puts me in a drawer. Then I'm back out here. Sit. Mirror over there. Wallpaper. The smell of it I think destroys my thoughts. This is a small little world, my little kingdom, though nothing else here. I sit motionless. When no one's around I fall off the edge and after recovering my balance I crawl back up. But you knew that.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

rabbit x section

One of a series I did earlier, from a picture I did a week or two ago. I kind of like it, moreso the series of them all together perhaps, but I like the colors and the ghost faces that came to circle the rainbow field of the rabbit in this one especially. His little narrowed eyes and the force within. The videoed lines.

On another note, some famous parenting how-to espouser stated that, "Children have difficulty knowing the difference between a need and a want." This isn't entirely true since infants can be taught to swim, thus they know they need air more than they want to be a fish. That same pen pusher also gave us the popularisation of the metaphor, "Children are like wet cement." So perhaps we shouldn't take him so literaly. Especially when he proffers us the advice of giving a child a larger cup when they ask for only half a glass of milk. "Children are like wet cement," he says, and yet he is more like dry cement. Talking dry cement. Hard stuff I might have walked over a thousand times, it's probably cracked and full of dirt and lost cement dreams. Here's a metaphor for children, yes let's be overreaching, broad, put ourselves at risk for looking idiotic. Well, here it is: Children are like optical prisms.

And life is like a tissue. Can you enter the space of the rabbit above? Is that a spiritual journey possible for you, is it too absurd? Farewell empty, empty, empty travellers. The Journey is still capitalized.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Friday, October 14, 2005