Friday, May 26, 2006

hells half acre

So my dad has pretty much had the most fucked up month. He almost had his appendix burst couple weeks ago and had to have emergency surgery and is now off work in lots of pain. Yesterday feeling much better started being able to take care of the little things around the house and threw his back out really bad. Let's continue. The dog they've had since I was 12 is 1/3 German Shepard, 1/3 Doberman and 1/3 Rottweiler. So needles to say his hind legs are now shot and he can hardly walk. They have to put him down tomorow. Which wouldn't be entirely bad if the dog wasn't my dads best fucking friend. I don't think I've heard a story of one of my dads hairbrained adventures without it involving him taking bruno for a walk. Even still as bad as this all is, a good standing argument would entail this all succumbing to just plain shit luck. Which is still fine. I guess just the fucked up part is that my dad is probably the best, most nicest person alive. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Actually finds spiders in the house and puts them outside. Wouldn't bust a goddamn grape in a fruit fight. The kindest most mild, humble, soft spoken guy around. So I guess it really just breaks my heart when I see him take all this shit with a bright smile and a gentle laugh. My dad isn't quite 48 and for the better part of my highschool years (the few that they were) he was commonly mistaken for my older brother. He's starting to get old now tho. His hair is going gray and weather is changing his skin. He's starting to resemble His father. That makes me nervous. His dad (my grandpa) is now starting to feel the full blow of alzheimers. Just a few months ago I had to endure the strangling task of re-introduce myself to the man that always knew where to tickle till I peed in my pants (the last time that happened was on my 20th birthday). I guess I also just get scared for my dad. Its in our blood. Not so much worried about me, as a matter of fact, if I make it to the age of 70 with both eyes and legs I will be so god damn amazed I'd be not that worried about much else. Anyway. I love my dad a lot. I find myself telling him that a lot lately. Specially since I'm hardly ever back to my home home. I miss my parents and my little sister lots. My family. But I guess that's normal so whatever. Its cool to know that I still care about them as much as I do.That makes me lucky. They make me strong. That makes me proud.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006


distraction - A&A

i am jacob william hoggard. watch me bleed. watch me smile. watch me cry. watch me fight. watch me swear. watch me offend. watch me piss. watch me hate. watch me love. watch me break. watch me mend. watch me sleep. watch me understand. watch me fear. watch me brave. watch me harmonize to the one million different notes, keys, and fuck faces that fly past my brain at once. i've run out of time to stop and watch this all commence. now i just run. as fast as i possibly can. with my eyes closed. with my fingers crossed. praying nothing makes me fall. it won't work. i'll fall. one thousand times over. you'll see. you'll watch. you'll judge. fuck you blow me. i'll get up. i'll watch my knee bleed. i'll smile. maybe taste it if someones watching (to gross them out). i'll shut my eyes. i'll cross my fingers. and i'll run again. hillarity ensues. i am steal. i am stone. i am a rock. i am a peninsula (almost an island). nothing will ever break me. most of you will get close. have a shot. take it. most of you will miss (i saw the matrix so blow me. again). for those of you that hit and / or graze me. i'll be pissed. but it will wear off. and then i'll be fine. for those of you that twist the knife inside. i'll be mad. pretty mad actually. i'll probably just call my best friends and they'll kill you. and then i'll have a cocktail. good. great. it's late. fuck new york. and the rest of north america. cuba here i come. no. fuck cuba. skye sweetnam. here i come. be my valentine. yes for crushes. no for idiots. p.s. everyone is my friend. except for the fucking idiots.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

headlight eyes

Twilight singers - the conversation. - 3 can keep a secret if 2 are dead and gone.

There was a time when we would kiss so hard I stood so proud and tall.

Then you pulled my chair from out from under me and fucked off with it all.

Now my hearts black and blue but that's alright cuz you don't give a damn.

So I wrote you this letter that says go fuck yourself cuz that's just who I am.

Praying lately is like remembering everything I should have been. It seems like I'm expecting all of this. Not so much these petty glories, so much as this great demise. And its not like I don't see it coming. I've been fucking schooled. Steeped in this. From a young age. My roots my past. Its comical, how quick someone can change. And worse, how much faith people can put into who they are at any given moment and believe they have discovered themselves forever. Feel the powder burn. I miss the smell of fresh cut grass. To this day its my most favourite smell in the world. It reminds me of playing in the yard when I was young. Getting my feet all stained green with fresh cut grass. And then mom yelling at me for tramping green feet through the house. I hope they never sell that house. They still live there. Where I grew up. The same street. The same block. The same second story window I used to pee out of.
The same first story window I used to sneak out of. Things were simple back then. They don't sleep on the beach in coney anymore. I live on my head now. Cuz its not so much the world that has turned upside down on me as me on the world. I guess its easier to eat shit when u stand on your head tho. I dare you to play a videogame with me right now at this second. If you beat me I'd probably strangle you with the chord. Its so common to find people in such desperate need of an identity. But its only those that feel cornered into needing one that do. You can always tell the difference. I didn't need to be something or someone or look like something until a certain age. When your perfect world is shatterd by one fuck with a drunk as a dad and forfeit as a mother decides to fill you in on how much worse you look than him. The first punch is always the most painful. And most memorable. Its usually the one that defines what type of reaction you will be. The instant realization of a need to not be judged but accepted is born. I remember it. I remember the class. I remember the day. I remember the period. I remember his stupid fucking face. I remember his words. His hate. His mindless hate. I did not threaten him in anyway. I didn't even know his name. But I remember his hate his words. Was I really pour? I didn't think so. Were my shoes really that shitty? I remember buying them with dad only a week before. I had even saved up my own money. I remember his words. That fuck. The point of this isn't to blubber or pitty. Its just me realizing there is a point in time in all of our lives in which a turning point occurs. Of which innocense is broken. Of which compensation for what we are lead to believe is a loss becomes an enemy to ourselves all on its own. It will kill you if you let it. I hate the way it looks at me as if I was broken. How far will I run. Probably not far. I'll probably run out of breath or get a cramp. Maybe twist an ankle or trip on something. Stupid fuck. Remember. Its not about how strong you are. Its about how well you can trick people into thinking that your only pretending to cry.

Friday, May 19, 2006

global positioning system

Its so easy to get lost. So easy to forget where u came from. So eay to pretend everything will be better as long as yesterday doesn't make sense tomorrow. There's a million things I want in this world and only 999,999 thousand days to do it in. Coming up short. Like my anthem. I'll put it in a tape recorder and tape it to my backpack. Personal theme music. To let everyone no the fuckup is coming. To clear away for this flurry of everything that falls apart around me. No one wants to be sad. No one wants to have a reason to bleed, but without it the sweet just isn't as great. Without it it seems the good times just seem expected like bad commercials on satiurday morning. Buy these toys kids! Or I'll fucking kill you. Its easy to fall into habits and patterns when there's nothing around you holding you up, holding your hand. I need a break. But then again, so does my dad, and so did his dad and so did his dad and so did his dad and so did his dad and so did his dad and so did his dad and so did his dad, but they didn't get it. Oh look pussy boy can't handle the stress let's let him take a quick breather; let him tie his shoes. Fuck that. Let these tears make you stronger. Let the world falling apart around you be your exit music. So lucky, so strong, so proud, stand while your falling. I am. No one knows the hell I'm in store for. No one sees me bleed. Is it better that way? No. Is it safer that way? No. Then why? Pride, shame, no where else to turn, no one to understand. To hell with it. Holding hands still makes me have butterflies and hot chocolate still warms my hands when it rains. I still feel. I'm not dead YET. Never let them see you cry. Smile while your bleeding.