Wednesday, April 02, 2014

Sincere greetings to you...

Chân thành gửi tới các bạn lời chào thân hữu

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Good bye.

God be with, ye'.

Bebe.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Sometimes...

I understand what you're feeling by what you write when I read it.

Is this normal?

I'm thinking that I'm quite the opposite.

There are people that have read more of my writing here and can only glean a gossamer of tendrils of who and what I am in real? life. That was a weird sentence.

I'm much more than my writing, even though it's a huge chunk of my soul. I WILL NEVER NOT WRITE.

I WRITE ALL OF THE TIME.

Not as much as I want to - but I do. Scraps of paper. Jot down things in notebooks, write things on other peoples shit.

It's waves, baby. I'm not you. I'm ME.

I'm a fucking tsunami. I sleep. And then. I'm a fucking tsunami again. And then i'm the quietly lapping pond. AND THEN I'm THHHHEEEeeeee tsunami. The little tsunami. A mini-tempest.

I don't know you better then you see me.

I can't decide what to wear.

snorkel
arm floaties
submarine
just drown

or get the fuck out of the water and stay on dry land
until another siren calls to me

Ahhhh...but you just made me write somewhat about you...

SNORKEL

Friday, February 21, 2014

Will You Walk With Me?


in an amount of painful, laborious and sometimes -
long strides...
i hope that my small steps in life
will be recognized
by true friends
            lovers
            God(s)
  all witnessess
  and ME -
  after this life......
          this life of mine......

will you walk with me?

Thursday, February 20, 2014

I Feel Appreciated...

A Thank-You Note to Men

By Mary-Louise Parker
To you, whom it may concern:
Manly creature, who smells good even when you don't, you wake up too slowly, with fuzzy, vertical hair and a slightly lost look on your face as though you are seven or seventy-five; you can fix my front door, my sink, and open most jars; you, who lose a cuff link and have to settle for a safety pin, you have promised to slay unfortunate interlopers and dragons with your Phillips head or Montblanc; to you, because you will notice a woman with a healthy chunk of years or pounds on her and let out a wolf whistle under your breath and mean it; because you think either rug will be fine, really it will; you seem to walk down the street a little taller than me, a little more aware but with a purpose still; to you who codifies, conjugates, slams a puck, baits a hook, builds a decent cabinet or the perfect sandwich; you who gives a twenty to the kids selling Hershey's bars and waits at baggage claim for three hours in your flannel shirt; you, sir, you take my order, my pulse, my bullshit; you who soaps me in the shower, soaks with me in the tub; to you, boy grown-up, the gentleman, soldier, professor, or caveman, the fancy man with initials on your towels and salt on your chocolates, to you and to that guy at the concession stand; thank you for the tour of the vineyard, the fire station, the sound booth, thank you for the kaleidoscope, the Horsehead Nebula, the painting, the truth; to you who carries me across the parking lot, up the stairs, to the ER, to roll-away or rice mat; to you who shows up every so often only to confuse and torment, and you who stays in orbit, always, to my left and steady, you stood up for me, I won't forget that; to you, the one who can't figure it out and never will, and you who lost the remote, the dog, or your way altogether; to you, wizard, you sang in my ear and brought me back from the dead, you tell me things, make me shiver; to the ones who destroyed me, even if for a minute, and to the ones who grew me, consumed me, gave me my heart back times ten; to most everything that deserves to call itself a man: How I do love thee, with your skill to light fires that keep me warm, light me up.

Tuesday, February 04, 2014

Fat FREE Milk

I'm going to go away for a bit.

It's not you.

It's me. 


Friday, January 31, 2014

Karoshi

これは一生懸命働いていないに向けた私の最初のステップです。私は長生きしたいと思います。私はlovlongerしたいと思います。私はあなたが私と一緒にこれらのパスを移動することもここになりますことを願って、私はあなたが楽しい時間を共有するためにここになりますことを願っています。これを読み取って、みんなに幸せとのれん。

:)

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Write HERE......

Years can go by, Kid
hope becomes stagnant
but out of the murk
and miasmac, primordial messes
germinated from dreams deferred
will and spirits dampened
always comes
LIFE

Years can go by, Kid
and eons/minutes/seconds can too

It never ends, Man
This is where all things come from
where it begins

From there

Right HERE......

Again...

A moment of clarity.

Thank you!

Sunday, January 19, 2014

I'm Falling Asleep...

I died before
I want to know you better
Before this happens again
Before we wake up


I'll See You In Another Life...When We Are Both Cats...


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Tuesday, January 14, 2014

It's Too Late...


to write as much as I want to. I just wanted to write something at least.
It's part of the problem but I'm fixing it.
You don't believe me - but I am.
I TOLD YOU.
Some big changes have to happen incrementally.
Some small steps get propelled forward regardless of our dancing or dragging feet.
It's much more complicated than this.
You know.
I know.

Anyway.
I have the things written down on the mirror and the books and the blahblahblah
HEY.
Yeah, HEY.
I want to work for that ONE GUY/HELP OUT/WORK WITH?
that I kind of know
that works for MEOWWWWWW
at Cartoon Network

That's 2014, bitches.

No. Seriously. WATCH.

notactuallygoingtohashtagthesentencethatIjustwrote


Thursday, January 09, 2014

I'm happy

I think that I really AM

I have MUCH room for improvement
and my increments of tortoise-like progress
hopefully doesn't race against all of your hare-brained disillusions

Yes, we're all on the clock
but I'm on my own\here
I'm starting this now
anew
not for the finish
but for amazing progress

I WIN

I really think that I do

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

There are so many things that I want to do right now
So many things that I want to put down
Mass-Invite for Enders Game
more movies and books
to check out
based on
conversations
need to do the fund-raiser
how is Mark?
ebay sales
more stuff to sell now
my little sister
how is my Dad?
my Mother
doesn't have my number
need to reconnect with
old people from the
old companies for
full-time writing gigs
this means travel
or relocating, maybe

finish reading
Area 51
Under The Dome
The Giver
thebookthatSTEVEgave me
The Tender Bar
I846
Doctor Sleep
Night
and more...

Comic Books from the library
BLACK from CNN
research my inevitable Fukishima death
and need to work on my winter garden
eat more vegetarian
Kirkus Review gig

I have notes taped in my kitchen re:social engagements
I need to get more sleep
I want to figure out how to put my "Bartending/Romance" script/mess in my local theater
Now, "Wade" want's me to submit material for a theater XMAS show
"Andy" never got back to me about his lyric rewrites that he wants me to help him with
I need to work on my Fat Free Milk book
Need to remember to go to "Kelly's" art show
"Luis" and I are supposed to play drums and electric bass like we used to
"Tony" wants to do more hip-hop songs
My cartoon script needs a home

I want to build a green house for you/me/us

Visit ALL of my nephews
Ann is dying
My Dad is dying
There is a black cat
in the middle of
the street right now

I need to pound out that dent in my car
I need to fix these XMAS lights
I need to save money for Hawaii,
                                       the IRS
                                       CAR and more...
                                       more dentist work
                                       more Muay Thai again
                                       and finally some Krav Maga

save money for the expensive shoes that I like
sell everything
I need more contact lenses
I need to sell all of my DVD's
Set a date for my next Sci-Fi Club
Have a party
Go to Brooklyn
Joshua Tree like i used to
Buy "Black-Out Curtains"

Spend more time with
April and Jamal
and Chris and Tony
and Joe
and continue to make mew friends
to buy a fire-pit because everybody loves fire
to work harder
to work LESS
to be THE same
but be DIFFERENT
to love MORE
and to HATE less
to look UP more
and to not be so DOWN

I'm giving so much
and giving so many things away
always learning
always yearning

playmorechess
buyabaseballglove
tobuymorearrows
andabetterbow
tobuyagun
and
to m e d i t a t e MORE
and to stretch moooooorrrreeeee
to relearn how to write
to take more trips by myself again
to learn how to install dimmers for my lighting fixtures
to learn what cloud formations mean
                     coding
                     programming
to make money off of my dumb websites
to woodwork
to buy the tools to build things
to build my own motorcycle
to go away at least for one week
and to not tell you where I am/have been
to buy fishing equipment
to rotate/restock the emergency supplies in my car
to give creative writing courses
to read The Tarot
to relearn my World Map
to know Astronomy
and to contribute as a business owner to my local economy
to reread my college philosophy books

to write
     Gun Arm
     PAYNE
     Hydromania, Prozac and The Apology
and
 to write words for Mike Magowski
and
 to write words for Mandie Bee's photos

Funny thing...the other weekend?
He didn't mean any ill-will
but Nick asked me innocently
if I had I hard time concentrating?

I was, like...Duh?

and he said that he and Terry that
that me
especially @home
that I did

I said, like - DUH?
and muttered something about ADHD

I told him about how I cant keep still
how it's hard for me to concentrate
I can. I do. But. I can't all of the time
It's random.
Sometime's selective
Sometime's impossible
It's hard

I'm proud that I've done what I've done

You can help me breathe, relax a bit
focus, for sure
but it will never help
ALL of the time
what YOU get, but most importantly
what I GET is a variance of
1 to 53%
anything above 53%
is a Godsend
and an amalgam of
your beautiful positivity
and my unfathomable love

help me to produce more on paper
                                       on The internet
plant seeds in your mind(s)
to make you smile
to make you read
and
to make you think
to make you happy
to make ME happy

ALWAYS

i know that you wish
and want more of me
and, please
with the support and
the gentle proddings
and the love

I LOVE IT
inhale it
i ingest it
and take it
hoarding the encouragement

But, remember...
I GET BETTER
thinking
progressing
regressing
real-life meets
creative and spiritual life
but?

I have written more things down on paper and on The Internets
and on The Websites
blahblahblah
than you ever have
and than you ever will in your lifetime

I'm not judging you
everybody's different
THERE ARE BROWN SNOWFLAKES

just.kind.of.relax, okay?
encouragement is awesome
GIVE IT
I'll take it
I mean it
just
relax
I get better every day
and with your help
I do

I write things sometimes
and...it's cool
so
like my writing
and
like my life
if I can
put a portion of that down
if I can
put a portion of that down
and convert it into portions that
can drown the portent that I see
friends
lovers
firsts
seconds
then all win

this is all normal
relax
HEY
RELAX
dontlistentothem
dontlistentoyourself
relax
relax
RELAXXXXXXXXXXXXX

there are so many things to get to
towards
backwards
forwards

your mind

popcorn synapses

you will never be able to put everything down
impossible
this is normal

relax

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Oh, SELF. Oh, Fat Free Milk...

I wrote on paper tonight.

Isn't that enough?

Leave me alone, asshole.

Jesus.

Friday, October 11, 2013

These Sticks Of Mine...



I bought these in China Town. In Los Angeles. I'm having to soak them in hot water repeatedly to erase the stickers and the color off of them. I give up. I will use a fork. Or as my Vietnamese Mother pronounces? Poooohhharrrk. No play Pootbahhhlllll in tahhh Haaawwssseee!!!

Thursday, October 10, 2013

This. Weak.



Ihavespentmoretime
writingthingstowritehere
but
haven'tbecausewhatI'vewritteninthenotebookslately
hasbeentoobig
andmaybetoolaborioustowriteremotelyin2dimensions
when I need to stop and/relax/breathe and do my mind and body the justice to learn about myself in 3rdand4th dimensions...







Thursday, October 03, 2013

Everything is a note
in some song
all life is music
and has a rhythm
a melody
sometimes chaos

a cacophony of...?

Wednesday, October 02, 2013

Tuesday, October 01, 2013

10

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Monday, September 30, 2013

9

love of
mine.
benign
nigh
night
asinine
assign
ensign
cosign
Bill Nye
restrain
HouseofAlexanderPayne
feign
find
friends
fiends
love. all
in
time.
love is love
love
9-5?
all of
the
time




Tuesday, September 10, 2013

8

is a snowman
or a ZERO wearing a tight belt
8
is before the German "Nein" for my American "No"
which may make a 7 a positive before you become internationally negative
8
has nothing to do with appetite
weight ain't nothing but a number
8
is an Infinity Symbol doing a yoga pose OR one standing at attention
888
is a picture taken of three Hungry, Hungry Hippos from a birds-eye POV
8 your brain...made me twice as smart
g is you - shorter and with a beer gut
8 should be a luckier number than 7 because it's just...a little bit more
8 is like...a 10!
on a scale of 1-10
8 divided by two is 4!!!
whatisitgoodfor

8



Saturday, September 07, 2013

Wednesday, September 04, 2013

SEX(y)

is
attention
is
tolerance
imperfection
is
repetition
and
loving affection


 


Saturday, August 31, 2013

5:00 in the morning...

is my reverse alarm clock
5:00 in the evening ...
kcolc mrala esrever ym si


Friday, August 30, 2013

FOUR years ago...

I posted this...



And it makes me even happier now.






Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

TWO

Two times. Two times too many you've dangled that carrot in front of my eyes, man. Leading me blindly - speaking to me softly...full of promises and sweet rewards.

As I trod on and on and on...

Signed,

DONKEY

Thursday, August 15, 2013

ONE

Evening when I was writing after work, something happened. A doppelganger of myself popped up right beside me.

POP! 

It actually sounded like that. I jumped/swore/and fell off the couch. He/Me/I/It was wearing the same clothing as I was. I fell on my ass and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my palms.

He/Me/I/It sat there, looking just as shocked as I was.

I and He/Me/I/It  both said at the same time, "What the fuck?"

And then we fainted.

That was a long time ago. Now were the best of friends. We're the reason that we don't return your phone calls, why we avoid certain events, why we procrastinate to points of complete, illogical explanation - it's because we're just so fucking cool. We make ourselves laugh, we tell dumb jokes, trade books, comic books, read passages of poetry to each other - we start to write things but usually end up getting distracted and end up doing something else completely different. One night may start with us making Zucchini bread and then an hour later we're acting out scenes from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Do laundry and end up weeding in the garden. Want to take naps but end up arm-wrestling instead.

We have fun, and lots of it. I don't even know what I would do if I didn't have He/Me/I/It in my life - but there's one thing that we are extremely focused on. One thing that we fear and slightly tremble at the notion of...

We're afraid of the "Un-POP". We've talked about it. We hope to God that it never happens.

That ONE evening, fooling around after work, the doppelganger of ourselves will disappear.

POP!

Just like that. And it'll be done. No more. No Best friend, confidant, go-to-guy. Done, finished, fini.

All alone. Just with ourself.

Just......ONE.




Tuesday, August 13, 2013

tonight


a homeless 23 year old after work toothpaste 20 dollars spun drugs atm frustration

I have so much in the back of my car

and i talked to him

before, he called out to me asking me for something and i yelled out to WAIT

i gave him 1/50th of it

prepper shit in my car

it drives me fucking crazy

i have this stuff but

why cant i change his life?

because i cant?

i know his age drug habits where he sleeps now

he didnt need a sleeping bag, clothes

accepted chocolate, food, all of my huge bags of toothpaste and toothbrushes for him and his friends

razors

i gave him, not advice - but a small amount of shit as I gave him 20 bucks

i told him that I wished that he would use it for food and/or comfort - not drugs but I understand that he was nodding his head because he was appreciative and i get it

i asked him if he was using resources that my city has available for the homeless. Food, shelter, etc.

he said 211?

I said no and started to talk about our PD homeless liason that I know but he started talking about some other stuff and...he wasn't into it.

he said that he had pride to a certain extent and didn't like hand outs as much as everybody else.

we talked more.

he talked about his mother in a minute. She sucked.

he lost it after his girlfriend slept with some guy.

i don't even know where im going with this story. It's late now.

i am not drunk.

i can give a fuck about grammar, syntax, punctuation

i worked tonight. first thing that I had to do was to kick out a person

i made people laugh

business was slow

shit got busy

my job sucks ass

and I have the best job in the world

people would kill me for my job

So, here you have little old, fucking me - just depositing money into my local ATM because I need to, because if I don't, then my world will explode and then implode and explode in an even grander and more majestic galactic thing of beautiful destruction.

I want to take you by your fucking ears and help you.

I can do more. That's what sucks. And, please - do this for me. No, seriously. I'm Fucking RETARDED. I don't know how to do shit. I put the IDIOT into the Idiot Savant.


I am still haunted by being homeless when I was 18-19......


SO...

I was 15 seconds away from home and I turned my car around

I wanted to catch him again and give him more stuff

then I turned my car back around to go home

i understand why

but it bugs me

Oh.

Also?

when I told him that i just got off of work and that i was a bartender
he was very surprised

he said that he thought that I was a doctor

A DOCTOR.

Me?








Sunday, August 04, 2013



E.S.P. Telekinesis. Ancient Astronauts. Nutri-Grain. Pregnancy. Bigfoot. Ecto-Cooler. Malcolm McLaren. Cancer. 5D. Mediocre Mario-Kart. Watches. Me. Fencing. God. Gleek. Gloop. Goop!!! The Goon. The Gooch. Kathleen Kennedy. VALIS. Pleats. EG&G. 1957. Che Guevara. Ultron. Colonel Graff. Dan Sweetman. Astral Projection. Stan Getz. Cần Thơ.  Fat Free Milk. C3-PO. This End Up^. In Love. Yorick. Harper Lee. The Bleed. Dies The Fire. Aries. ISON Comet. Gretal. I LIKE IKE. Crystal Pepsi. Alfred Pennyworth. dec    binary    hex       4 = 00100 = 0x04       8 = 01000 = 0x08      15 = 01111 = 0x0F      16 = 10000 = 0x10      23 = 10111 = 0x17      42 = %0101010 = 0x2A     108 = %1101100 = 0x6C 7418880 = %11100010011010000000000 = 0x713400. Alta Loma, California. Howard Stark. Text “TACO” to 91318. Frak. MI6. Crosley. Lovecraft. Selina Kyle Malone. The Thin  Red Line. Crystal Skulls. Holocrons. D20. THACO. Liberty Board Shop. George McFly. Cambridge. AaBbc. Better dead than Read! The Hedgehog. Zucchini. Mayans. The Pearl. Not Steinbeck. Vornado.  River Pheonix. I want to TEACH children about the joys of the written word, I am my Grandmother’s…ummm- - -uhhhhh, I guess Grandson. I raised myself on her LATIN lessons and her elementary school primers. And maybe with the books –ALL of the wonderous, kind-of crazy/miasmic plethora of fucking weird-ass shit that I had read in book shelves and things that I was told NOT TO TOUCH. I Read them. ALL of them. I READ EVERYTHING. I suck things in my mind. Always, I do it. It causes me pain. JOY. I’m not special – but I am. I have limited memory recall. I regurgitate about 63%, MAYBE in every aspect of my life. I feel guilt about this. I should be smarter. I just can’t remember all of the shit that I read. I don’t tell people that part of the reason that I don’t sleep during the day is that I HAVE TO DRINK LIQUIDS AND HAVE TO READ STUFF. I know that I need to sllep but I get distracted even if I know what I’m watching on the dumb computer is a conduit for knowledge. I am always excited…butbutbut I’m FUCKING RETARDED. I have ADHD. CLINICAL Depression. I am not the kite. I am the heavy string. I am not special. I collect what dust and sediment passes through my ears. It’s all Cilia. It’s all filimental. I think I just made up that word – but it really does make sense of this sensical NON-sense.

AND
I’m
LOVE/a futurist/STRONGER THAN ALL OF YOU/and am learning
SO
I’ll be serious.
Right now.

THESE ARE THINGS THAT I DO WELL:

1.     I can get people excited about books or anything Nerd-Centric.
2.     I REALLY AM A GOOD BARTENDER.
3.     I REALLY AM A GOOD……writer.
4.     I make you laugh.
5.     My insides are good. Perfect health. Drink less.
6.     ADHD, CLINICAL DEPRESSION, and just being Benjamin Button.
7.     I would fight to the death for you.
8.     My love for my little sister.
9.     My love for SCIENCE.
10.  My verbosity.
11.  My HEART.
12.  My tenacity
13.  My friendship.
14.  MY LOVE FOR YOU ALL.




Saturday, August 03, 2013

Just keep swimming...

if this ship was sinking
i would make sure to throw you overboard
because you're a life-preserver




pituarary tracts

its not the meaning of the words
no
they don't get harder to discern
it's the will and the lack of urgency
to put them down that burns

( I don't remember writing this.)

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Independence Hall...


Where were you today

We missed you

Were you stuck in the mud
Were you rearranging The Stars

It's sometimes hard to find you
and keep hold of your hand
while you're wandering, marveling and wondering

We wondered too

Were you with your cats
In your garden
In study
Contemplation
Sad and pondering

We think that you were
where you wanted to be

We missed you
We really did

And it's great
It's awesome
We love it

Just remember
If nothing else

That WE are arranging The Stars too


----------------------------------------------------


This time in between the day and the night
The light kills my sense of life
So scared, turn it off, turn it off

It's dull, this dusk, this desk, this dust
My eyes adjust
I'll blow out the flame
Can you and me remain?

Changes, never been good with change
I hate it when it all stays the same
Caught between the gold and the game
Changes, never been good with change
I hate it when it all stays the same
Caught between the cold and the waves
My heart beats up, again

Once said, words make a world of their own
I misread
I can't get you back on the phone
I'm so tired, so turn it off, turn it off
How's that, last week we were home
You're far away
And I hardly know
Can you and me delay?

Changes, never been good with change
I hate it when it all stays the same
Caught between the gold and the game
Changes, never been good with change
Troubled when it all stays the same
Caught between this cold and the waves
My heart beats up, again

Are you my trouble
Are you my trouble






Monday, July 15, 2013

BEETHOVEN WAS RIGHT.

Bees are dying.
Democracy doesn't work.
Fortified food.
COLD hearts.



Reverse Roar.


I'm going to not write like I have been writing lately. I do it because it's easy. I'm not lazy. I just have way too much shit that I want to put down. Sometimes I have time to write but ajkhkjdhshjddaj - I get distracted. Sometimes I get lazy. Sometimes I don't care. Sometimes I care too much and that's why I don't write.

I am in shorts and sitting in my backyard. Right by the garden. I'm proud of it. I can write more about how important it is to me. I wont. Boring. Garden writing. Really. Not like what I just wrote is any better. I am making fun of myself and writing the exact type of thing that I am making fun of.

I need to stop making fun of myself. I need
to not write
like this
anymore

Reversing dumb writing

Writing dumb verses

I did that on purpose.





Saturday, July 06, 2013

I Don't Know What Happens After This...


And what is this, my friend?

A thing.

Some, amazing beautiful thing that we're sharing.

Let's not ruin this this while it's happening.



Friday, July 05, 2013

The Motorhomes - Psalm

I danced all winter so summer came as a surprise
Terrible thing that I've done tracing your steps too long
I laughed all summer I laughed until I dropped my guard
Terrible things that I've said hating you all too much
loving you all to much

Oh I wish I could be like you, so I asked you how and then you said no
no you don’t want to be like me, so don’t try to be, I hope you won't turn in to me
It took October I think it took November too
Then all it took was a push and I turned into you
Oh no, I turned into you.

Tuesday, July 02, 2013

I Ching, I Choose, I Change...


“Just because I liked something at one point in time doesn’t mean I’ll always like it, or that I have to go on liking it at all points in time as an unthinking act of loyalty to who I am as a person, based solely on who I was as a person. To be loyal to myself is to allow myself to grow and change, and challenge who I am and what I think. The only thing I am for sure is unsure, and this means I’m growing, and not stagnant or shrinking.” 

― Jarod Kintz.

Friday, June 28, 2013

Will you be my constant?




Dance and sing and dance and sing...



Tuesday, June 18, 2013

In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day. F. Scott Fitzgerald

Stop trying to wake yourself up.
Never sleep again.
Every night is a daymare.
You won't forget this tomorrow morning.

My parents are not dead.
I am not rich.
I have no wards.
I employ no hired help.
I'm not a genius.
And I have no enemies.


I am only a small man with big thoughts.
A big heart.
Small beginnings.
Haunted much.
But I try not to sweat the small stuff.


I will always be here.
I will be here way after you are gone.
All of you.
I miss you now.


You need to WAKE UP.
Get moving.
Get out of your own head.
And remember EVERYTHING.

Good day
and
Good night





Monday, June 17, 2013


Han Shoots First.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Han Shoots First...

I have spent the last hour expanding on a very short story that I wrote before.

It seems like a lot more like The Star Wars SPECIAL EDITION to THE ORIGINALS

I can, like - Haiku the story, right?

minimum wage worker

clown

hot chick

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Allen Ginsberg Was A Werewolf...




I can't wait to type on my new typewriter.

I don't know what I'm going to write about. Nothing unusual there. Do I write only poetry? Only write on one LONG story? Only write short stories? Continue to rewrite my old, short stories? Do I take it to the laundry porch and annoy the neighbor, or to the backyard by the garden, underneath the lemon tree, in Deprak Chopper Phil's Garage while waiting for microwavvvvv burritos? (never)

I should bring my old-timey record player and only write for the length of the 78.

I wrote a long-ass rewriting of a short story the other night. The short story became longer. I don't know if I like it.

I, I, I,

barely write and when I do I write about not writing

The always thorn in my side, side, side

the eternal and creative frustration on my life, life, life

needle in my...(you get it)


Wednesday, May 08, 2013

Land of da Lost...






I'm looking at the palm tree fronds in my backyard

It's late, I know

Thinking of things
of you
people noise is coming from the alley
they're up to no good
i don't care
im tired
not supposed to be up now
i know
i dont care
we're all tired
i think more than you all do in your lifetimes
im not special
i just care

it's late, I know

Palm tree fronds looking at me in their backyard

Thursday, April 25, 2013

fsssssshhhhhhhh


It's okay to not smoke
I'll get there
I'm ferocious
Done with smoldering

I encourage you, kindling

Just don't extinguish my fire

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Fat Free Milk

“What a wee little part of a person's life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself”






Satie, Gnossienne No. 1 (piano solo)

Friday, April 19, 2013

It's just wrong.



Compose.

Write.

If you dont.

Then you'll decompose?

Right?

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

THESE

HITS
MISSED
SHIT
and
PISSED
AGAINST
AGAIN?

IS
IT
THIS
again?
pissed
and shit upon
always hit upon





I do not fear death I will pass away sooner than most people who read this, but that doesn't shake my sense of wonder and joy BY ROGER EBERT


I know it is coming, and I do not fear it, because I believe there is nothing on the other side of death to fear. I hope to be spared as much pain as possible on the approach path. I was perfectly content before I was born, and I think of death as the same state. I am grateful for the gifts of intelligence, love, wonder and laughter. You can’t say it wasn’t interesting. My lifetime’s memories are what I have brought home from the trip. I will require them for eternity no more than that little souvenir of the Eiffel Tower I brought home from Paris.
I don’t expect to die anytime soon. But it could happen this moment, while I am writing. I was talking the other day with Jim Toback, a friend of 35 years, and the conversation turned to our deaths, as it always does. “Ask someone how they feel about death,” he said, “and they’ll tell you everyone’s gonna die. Ask them, In the next 30 seconds? No, no, no, that’s not gonna happen. How about this afternoon? No. What you’re really asking them to admit is, Oh my God, I don’t really exist. I might be gone at any given second.”
Me too, but I hope not. I have plans. Still, illness led me resolutely toward the contemplation of death. That led me to the subject of evolution, that most consoling of all the sciences, and I became engulfed on my blog in unforeseen discussions about God, the afterlife, religion, theory of evolution, intelligent design, reincarnation, the nature of reality, what came before the big bang, what waits after the end, the nature of intelligence, the reality of the self, death, death, death.
Many readers have informed me that it is a tragic and dreary business to go into death without faith. I don’t feel that way. “Faith” is neutral. All depends on what is believed in. I have no desire to live forever. The concept frightens me. I am 69, have had cancer, will die sooner than most of those reading this. That is in the nature of things. In my plans for life after death, I say, again with Whitman:
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
And with Will, the brother in Saul Bellow’s “Herzog,” I say, “Look for me in the weather reports.”
Raised as a Roman Catholic, I internalized the social values of that faith and still hold most of them, even though its theology no longer persuades me. I have no quarrel with what anyone else subscribes to; everyone deals with these things in his own way, and I have no truths to impart. All I require of a religion is that it be tolerant of those who do not agree with it. I know a priest whose eyes twinkle when he says, “You go about God’s work in your way, and I’ll go about it in His.”
What I expect to happen is that my body will fail, my mind will cease to function and that will be that. My genes will not live on, because I have had no children. I am comforted by Richard Dawkins’ theory of memes. Those are mental units: thoughts, ideas, gestures, notions, songs, beliefs, rhymes, ideals, teachings, sayings, phrases, clichés that move from mind to mind as genes move from body to body. After a lifetime of writing, teaching, broadcasting and telling too many jokes, I will leave behind more memes than many. They will all also eventually die, but so it goes.
O’Rourke’s had a photograph of Brendan Behan on the wall, and under it this quotation, which I memorized:
I respect kindness in human beings first of all, and kindness to animals. I don’t respect the law; I have a total irreverence for anything connected with society except that which makes the roads safer, the beer stronger, the food cheaper and the old men and old women warmer in the winter and happier in the summer.
That does a pretty good job of summing it up. “Kindness” covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.
One of these days I will encounter what Henry James called on his deathbed “the distinguished thing.” I will not be conscious of the moment of passing. In this life I have already been declared dead. It wasn’t so bad. After the first ruptured artery, the doctors thought I was finished. My wife, Chaz, said she sensed that I was still alive and was communicating to her that I wasn’t finished yet. She said our hearts were beating in unison, although my heartbeat couldn’t be discovered. She told the doctors I was alive, they did what doctors do, and here I am, alive.
Do I believe her? Absolutely. I believe her literally — not symbolically, figuratively or spiritually. I believe she was actually aware of my call and that she sensed my heartbeat. I believe she did it in the real, physical world I have described, the one that I share with my wristwatch. I see no reason why such communication could not take place. I’m not talking about telepathy, psychic phenomenon or a miracle. The only miracle is that she was there when it happened, as she was for many long days and nights. I’m talking about her standing there and knowing something. Haven’t many of us experienced that? Come on, haven’t you? What goes on happens at a level not accessible to scientists, theologians, mystics, physicists, philosophers or psychiatrists. It’s a human kind of a thing.
Someday I will no longer call out, and there will be no heartbeat. I will be dead. What happens then? From my point of view, nothing. Absolutely nothing. All the same, as I wrote to Monica Eng, whom I have known since she was six, “You’d better cry at my memorial service.” I correspond with a dear friend, the wise and gentle Australian director Paul Cox. Our subject sometimes turns to death. In 2010 he came very close to dying before receiving a liver transplant. In 1988 he made a documentary named “Vincent: The Life and Death of Vincent van Gogh.” Paul wrote me that in his Arles days, van Gogh called himself “a simple worshiper of the external Buddha.” Paul told me that in those days, Vincent wrote:
Looking at the stars always makes me dream, as simply as I dream over the black dots representing towns and villages on a map.
Why, I ask myself, shouldn’t the shining dots of the sky be as accessible as the black dots on the map of France?
Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen, we take death to reach a star. We cannot get to a star while we are alive any more than we can take the train when we are dead. So to me it seems possible that cholera, tuberculosis and cancer are the celestial means of locomotion. Just as steamboats, buses and railways are the terrestrial means.
To die quietly of old age would be to go there on foot.
That is a lovely thing to read, and a relief to find I will probably take the celestial locomotive. Or, as his little dog, Milou, says whenever Tintin proposes a journey, “Not by foot, I hope!”