Tuesday, June 28, 2005

to taste our blood

i think falling down won't let me forget the taste of good posture. and the clench of closed hands. its once we get a taste for all that is lost, that we lose our sense of taste. my shoulders are heavy. my eyes are tired.
dirty faced boy, emerges from the rubble. with dark brown hair, and tanned, dusty skin. he stares in shock. all is lost. hardly clothed, with a single dirt tear cutting a path of skin down his cheek, he steps over fire and body and a shipwrecked life. extending his arms upwards, his dusty little arms, blood smeared on his left elbow. spreading his fingers wide apart and open towards the sun, in a humble attempt to cut out the sarcastically celestial resilience of the sun. he looks across this former suburb in wonder. a lifetime of memory brought to its knees, by powers he will never know. a mountain of desolation creeps up on him, like an evening shadow, still able to see, but alittle darker, alittle colder. bending down, dirty faced boy pics up a sorry excuse for a picture frame. glass falls, catching the sun. beauty in this terror. looking down at the faces in the darkened dirty picture, the boy remembers. better times and better places. looking down at the faces in the darkened dirty picture, the boy realizes. things are different now. things are bad. loneliness can be overcoming, and in this case, it is. boy places the picture face down, where he found it. sits beside his picture, cross legged. in his heightened emotion, does not fear what is to come. but only fears what has passed. for all that is broken. for all that has been taken from him. for all that is lost. you see, at such an age, boy does not wonder who will now pay his tuition. he does not wonder who will make his lunch for school tomorow. he only feels the instant. the loss at hand. the most pure sense of emotion. of what u feel at the moment of occurance. the best time to cry. the best time to feel.

rain hardly falls on me any more. i hardly now feel such simple effects. please do not forget how to feel. how to react. i'm still safe. i'm still young. i will find things still.

closing my eyes has not yet become the task i fear it may.

45 hours and counting

monday morning. 11am - my eyes opened. little did they know they would not see sleep for another 45 hours. and counting. its amazing how vividly you can watch your own body break down. i'm falling apart in the third person. its comical really. i got home from the studio at 4am. kissed tammy. and started cleaning. it is now 8.20 am. my house is so spotless it seems sarcastic how clean it is. i've been going non stop for quite some time now. and every time i sit down for more than 5 minutes, my chest instantly gets extremely heavy and weak, and my fingers and hands begin to shake profusely. this is histerical. i still have to go back to the studio for another 9 hours, then zoom to a modest mouse concert with some friends. i speculate that i will most likely randomly pass out somewhere between right now, and the 4th or 5th song of modest mouse's set. i'm putting my money on 10 minutes from now. but we'll see where this takes me. in closing, i will avoid myself from dabling in some saucy self reflection. in exchange, here is a list i have composed.

things that are important to me:
(in somewhat of an order)

water slides
angry dad (darren)
corn dogs (mustard optional)
boot fit jeans
a good face wash
my computer
my ipod
hash browns
matthew good
camp fires
fires in general
fires in specific
a good book
a good book on tape
a spare set of keys
large trucks
baxter (also poetry, and brandy)
tylonal 3
green grass
climbing trees
then dumping from a branch
fake plants
bob marley
fighting for what you belive
regular fighitng too
team america. fuck yeah.
art i can't afford
good hair
my unibrow
skeet shooting
in-line skates
out-line skates
jagermeister guitars
i warm pair of gloves
stainless steel
wireless everything
a good handful of baby powder
a good handful of boob
shin pads
compact discs
loud noise
home depot
orange juice
natural light
dental higene
a dog
ankle support
a fancy bong
a nice mustache
johnny falls
not tube socks

-my pee smells like coffee.

excuse me, do you have change for a twenty?

i'm beginning to think i'll not ever need to wear leather again, or any other elemental self deterrent again. i must say, i do owe it to people for giving me such a strong sense of self appreciation. it seems to work well along side the numbing ability to not be afraid to let someone know they should definitely be taking a high flying fuck when they need to know. the tricky part is balancing the two. in a way that both might compliment each other, and remain true to each others values. for instance, certain reactions, however smug they may be, can sometimes jeopardize my personal self-esteem. the worst thing i think i can do in regards to anything involving me and living (everything) is dick off and cop it out on my inexperienced semi-post-adolescent mind. the more pressure the better. the more disdain for my objectives from others the better. it will only strengthen my character. and if it doesn’t, i'll just piss in your wallet and ask you to break a fucking twenty. one valuable lesson i have learned ever so swiftly, has been the understanding that trying to please everyone in the world will only make you constipated. instead of bettering yourself to fit into someone elses range of contentment, improve yourself to the point where you are so confident with what you belive in, it would seem practically ridiculous to play the role of anybody’s doormat. much of this has added up to give me the ability to truly do what i belive is best for me. if that means being the only one my side, then red rover red rover. i call all you little bastards over. take your best damn shot. i've realized i don't owe it to anybody to do anything a certain way. the only single thing i owe people is my gratitude. thats it thats all. and even that doesnt have to be sung from the mountain tops. it comes down to me, and whats in my head and whats in my heart. and i know how thankful i am for what. bottom line i guess, is that this is who we are, this is what i'm going to do, and you can take it or leave it. i figure the less friends i have, the less Christmas cake i have to bake. and good lord, is that stuff a pain to not burn. this is a nice monday. besides tammy making me clean out the garage, i think it has been a great day and very rare timeslot for me to do a little self exploring. its the dropping of these rain drop thoughts on my tin roof skull that make it so difficult to sleep through this very rainy season. The windows I wish were open will gradually write me letters of how bad they want to go out for coffee. But I will tell them I’ve got better things to do. and will then spend the day outside composing violently negative axioms in sidewalk chalk in my driveway. So claw away. Please. Claw away. The ripping and the tearing only make me stronger. The blood and the tears make me love what I do. sleep tight.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

recreational vanity

call it quits till you reconcile the fertility that once let you call up the same lonliness you now disdain. "can i get a large pepperoni and a medium bullet to the brain?' i can't even begin to let into my brain how much i hate these hands that ask for more. the recklessness of the undeserving eats away. but its allowed. its totally allowed. who am i to be able to pick and choose. i'm half awake, i'm half asleep, and i can't find a slurpee machine for the life of me. could i grace you with the inexplicable sense of dryness i feel when i close my eyes these days? that stretched feeling you get from sleeping little and flying lots. i think my biggest problem as of late has been my lack of release. i lost my little black guitar. maybe its hiding in the barn somewhere. i miss that guitar. thats where brave new world, what smiles can't afford, even sugar free came from. it sucks the cats ass. but its dear. i shall find it. i shall go exploring. i'll make due. i've heard a lack of literary reflection will clog your brain with desolation. and that lingering taste of ignorance i get on the tip of my tongue when i strum a few chords and try to make myself happy has been much more prominant also as of late. if i could i would take this hideous stigma, tie it up and throw it in the river. maybe i'll make a sail for it. watch it float down the fraser, with liberty and a sense of pride. if i could spell out catastrophe with 4 letters they would read 'pride'. sorry, 5 letters. sue me. i cling to humility with all i have. i figured out that picking your nose in public is probably the best way ever to remain humble. it works. and boy can i sure breathe easier these days. i'm walking into a world, of the worst possible circumstances. the one industry that can single handedly take the very values you trust. and beat them into a vicious, rabid, shameful mass of unrespected human. it seems as if my fingers crave strings and keys and sound. i miss standing on stage. standing in front of the guys again last week was so very liberating. i missed that more than anything. the opportunity is there for us to take. the chance of a lifetime warming our fingertips and ears. my mind is calligraphy and seems to never pass the spell check. i wonder from time to time what will become of me. what will become of my dreams and my abilities. could it ever be possible for me to be given an opporunity to actually accomplish what i was born to do, or would disney quite possibly give me the short end of the dream stick. would i ever forsake the grounds of which we all strive to accomplish. maybe i want to experience freedom of the ocean that kisses your feet and the breeze that whispers goodnight in my ear. maybe i want to climb the highest mountain and forsake the limitations mankind has set infront of themselves. but once its finished. when its all said and done. what am i fighting for. one hundred years from now, what will my efforts have been worth. when one begins to question their existence and purpose they learn a few things. lesson number one. your not as tall as you think you are. there alot more people in this world that have accomplished alot more meaningful, difficult tasks then you could ever handle. so before you crown yourself worthy, realize something. your a percentage and a number. its truly a beautiful thing. its really humbling. its kinda like life pulling out the chair from under you and then pointing and laughing and labelling you 'medium-sexy'. lesson number two. under half of what you strive for in the average 24 hour day is worth your bloody time. until you can establish FOR YOURSELF, not what your parents have established, not what a book or tow has established, but once you, for yourself, have justified a reason for blinking, you can accept the vanity and the necessity alot more gracefully. this wide eyed boy sings alot better than this professional nobody. this wide eyed world, cries alot harder than professional sinners. we'll never again have last night. we'll never again taste today's lunch. call me what you need to call me, i'm stuck in my own head and i'm laughing at you through my own eyelids. i miss you kind self. i miss our talks. i miss your insolence and i miss your sincerity. i miss the ability to close my eyes and let you take over. to let you create. without the aided presence of my pathetic pre-judgement. maybe i need a vacation. maybe i need a beer. maybe i need to go hit some golf balls. maybe i'll go egg ryan's house. how ironic. regardless. i need to rediscover what i came here for. the copasetic redundance is what makes me forget what i came here to do. the perfect repetativeness of my busy days is what clouds my creativity like the devilish fog. i miss your songs. dear brain. if i had it my way, i'd paint you on the inside of my lids and sleep forever.

"recreational vanity."