march of the plastic assholes

seventy-six trombones later
in full digital sound, with 1320 lines of resolution

now on parade

I watched an entire day walk right on by
it's quarter past another hour
I've shaped and shifted each minute
tailor made to suit me
changed every thing that is in my power
except everything that can be changed

honestly, I'm just tired of possibility
I'm ready to make peace with the ugliness of tedium

I need someplace to go be tedius 

failure to evaporate

there are times when I think that there is no truly good experience. or truly bad for that matter. when I want to believe that everything is futile.

it's an easy excuse, sort of a lazy man's nihilism.

or darwinistic buddhism. wouldn't that be funny.

but whether I'm thinning the herd of enlightened souls or craving victory through the attrition of my desires, I don't really think the list is up to snuff.

math was never my strong suit to begin with. aftermath is even worse. I could be waiting for the other shoe to drop. or practicing my disbelief on others. maybe I'll sabotage my good fortune in some twisted self-fulfilling prophecy style.

on the flipside, we learn from our mistakes. hardship builds character. and whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

but like I said, that's only when I want to believe that things aren't really all that terrible for me, or that they weren't going so well that I didn't just completely fuck myself by screwing them up.

in other words, days that end in "y"

they call me manic 

compunction junction, what's your function?

feeling bad isn't all about being evil or sick or mean

sometimes it isn't even about being wrong

but if I feel bad. that is, if I feel that I haven't done something right, I keep doing things that aren't right over and over. repeating the same mistakes, as it were.

if I feel bad, and that is a genuine enough a feeling, then maybe I can twist it.? sort of turn it around and use it to make a change. that's a good thing, right? fuel for the soul. 

m o t i v a t i o n

otherwise, it's just self-pity. or remorse. or worse, regret.

and what fucking good did those three ever do for anyone? 

at dawn

I realized this morning that I have said I'm sorry a hundred times more than I've ever said I love you.
That is no god-damned way to live. 

hours between

"I am a child afraid of the dark, and you are every midnight"

he thought about it, and tried to remember the last time he accomplished anything of value. before he became a coward, he read nietzsche and considered that every breath he took was valuable because it was for him. being selfish is quite underrated, he thought.

"I would kill the whole world if you asked for their heads"

she turned back toward him a bit, because the idea of death did strike her as somewhat exciting. but she knew that he didn't have the heart to kill anyone, except maybe her. being needed is only worthwhile when he can usually have anything he wants. this poor boy was always in need.

"I am worthless without your love"

the truth is a funny thing. knowing where we draw our power, our self-worth is important knowledge. like all learning it comes with consequences. and maybe it shouldn't be shared with everyone.


"I am the flat part of the razor
and you are the hours in between the shave"

the trick is to pace yourself for life. if you give away all your poetry when you're young, you'll be forced to try and win people over with unclear thoughts, no matter how profound. if they don't get it, what is the point? 

fakebook: table of contents

i'm a poser, not an indian
but i'm having visions just the same
i'm a pioneer, not a speaker
inventing my own rules for the game
last night was pitiful, not pathetic
no pathos was ever involved
this morning was typical, not tedious
as if the world has never revolved

my hands are shaking, i'm not stirred
i don't believe in hollywood endings
you could have called me, or said yes
but what's the use in our pretending?
i'm always drowning, a kind of gasping
though i never go in the sea
'cause I'm a poser, not a loser
and dying is just the end of living for me

always never nothing everything

there is a streak of desperation on the glass
left by the last breath of a dying soul
that never felt the power of a victory
or its deeply replenishing effects

the door is cold to the touch
and outside the sky is black in the absence of the moon
living things shiver from the cold
or whatever it is that keeps us wondering where we go

he is beyond the ubiquitous curiosity of death
shaped like the mountain by time, ragged, too
his vision is settled only on the one thing
that we all possess no matter what we tell ourselves

and by the time the light comes over the treetops
beginning a new day of promise for the living
the streak has been wiped clean by a jacketed arm
leaving no trace of the miserable tear 

ally ally oxen-free

it's just a title.

and this is just a string of words I learned somewhere. put it all together and you have me on a night I didn't drink. but I think I want one.

i haven't touched my journal in days.
a screenplay in weeks.
a poem in months.
a heart in forever.

my phone calls are variations of the holy-trinity:
a mystery, following belief, grasped in despair, demanding faith and without response.

i have no one to call anyway.

i'm glad there are one more weddings. stag is an evil euphemism.

how my dog, who loves me, would react should I die

lying on the floor.

motionless, motion more.

he chews at my softest bits, first in a game.

he relieves me of my skin, the thing he feels i need least?

food.

is there a moment, a definite point in time, when I have no choice but to be ashamed of myself?

mystery upon misery

at four a.m. Buk would have a whole different set of problems. 
that may be the difference between a writer and whatever I am.

i feel like i just scooped out my stomach with an ice cream serving spoon. one of those old style spoons with the lever that scraped the back so the ice cream fell right out.

i don't have a single thing left in there to spew out. even this little tirade about not being inspired is so very pedestrian.

maybe those other problems aren't so great either, but at least i would be writing. 

sweet street weeper,s

jesu swept 

ceasar wept 
when there were no more 
worlds to conquer 

i and my guitar (gently) both, we extend play, 
sotos peak 

grieve and weep 
because tonight I'm 
fucking sad 

even in my dreams my bed is empty

i don't know if you know what i mean
when i say that i think you're unreal
it's a boy's way of misbehaving
when he can't really say how he feels
there was a time not so long ago
when the truth would have knocked me down
with no way of getting better
spend days and nights just wandering around

but the past is where it belongs
and I'm stronger these days when it comes to love
maybe I'm amazed but I know the deal
even in my dreams, my bed is empty

beauty is only a flesh wound
the infection runs down right into the soul
your smile is a vaccination
but there's never been a cure for this kind of cold
I'm man enough to know the difference
the look in your eyes is an obvious clue
victim is a role that I'll never take
no matter how much I die wanting you

but the past is where it belongs
and I'm stronger these days then I've ever been
maybe I'm amazed at the top of my lungs
but even in my dreams my bed is empty 

98 degrees of separation

even the grass was sweating today

bricks were crying because the sun would just not let up

tarmac wept openly in front of curbs

buildings began to undress (red faced, like good puritans) early in the morning, some even before the sun had completely risen

cars were wheezing and struck with militant, hay-fever like symptoms 
they moved today like sickly turtles walking across a burning cactus

it was just hot enough to warm some bread on the front porch

haze would hug you like a dirty uncle

a whisper could knock you unconscious

summertime, and the dying is easy 

I've got my spine, I've got my orange

lust rusts? genius
forget a watch, my internal clock is sub-atomic and particles dance and spin thinking that they'll never die as long as they're fashionably late

I've got my orange...

it is disgraceful how much i want in life
for the precious little i offer the world, entitlement shouldn't even make a cameo in the folds and ripples of my brain. but i'm only human

i'm (l)only human

I've got my spine, even if it does go soft at the most important bits. and (don't look now, I'm talking about a girl) I definitely go all jellyfish when she smiles.

where is the efficiency expert who will take me from operating at a loss to my grand and mighty days as a world leader in living happily?

c r u s h ?!?!?!? 

Did I say that out loud?

Who said crush? Well, Heather did. In reference to me, towards Ann. I never said. Not to her. This does not bode well. Ireland, sweet Ireland. Embrace me and bring me home.

i am going crazy over this girl

belief, entitlement, promise(bottled), hope

when you go for a really long time without seeing someone who sends you reeling,
when you last for years without ever really caring about anyone new,
when you don't meet anyone for years that can make it hurt,

yes, it's that much harder when it happens.

::::::::::::::::::::::

try and remember when you learned it was a bad idea to grab a pot that's been boiling on the stove. the first learning experience of a child that has never been hurt. it's a revelation in the mind of someone so young. it almost teaches us that the best way to learn right and wrong is to get hurt along the way.

i am willing to risk the pain, because i think this is right.
she makes me nervous, and i want to do extraordinary things when i think of her. i guess i'm inspired again. 

hello darkness my old friend...

when we care about someone, we like to believe that the feeling will never deteriorate. the truth is, I've lost feeling for people that I swore I would love forever. but at the same time, I've felt love grow for people that I haven't seen in years. family, friends with whom I've lost touch. the girl of my dreams. today I can mean that literally.

last night I had the most incredibly vivid dream about the one girl that I swore I didn't love. the girl I didn't profess my feelings to. the one that got away, so to speak.

and I told her in my dream, finally I told her.

and then she left me, which is what I imagine would happen if I ever found her to tell her in real life. but she held me, and kissed my lips, and told me that it would happen next time. in the next life where it was meant to be.

what is meant to be tonight? 

a night of many contradictions
my eyes were green, which usually means
I am happy
I had been drinking, but not so
much as to make me sick
Anyway, I felt like vomiting
A look in the mirror, toward it
anyway, and I knew it by the
shape I was in
Time to sleep it off
or
time to die

in my solitude...

the closeness is something you never stop missing. bodies just a breath away from actually touching. you see, I can do without sex, I've lasted quite a while now, and the companionship is something that I hardly even think about, but the closeness...

I have this weakness for the right girl right next to me. she doesn't even have to be in love with me (although that would be a plus for once), just close enough for me to know that she wants to be near me. close enough that it's her choice to share the same air, the same space. it's a high like no other.

I had a few seconds of that, and it was bliss. enough to carry me for a few more weeks, and inspire the type of longing that I had reserved for women I knew I would never meet.

passion, desire, lust, want. necessity?

I've always wondered where that fit in with feeling.

manic

p.s. she asked me if I saw star wars 

You grew up fast now you'll die soon

people age in crazy ways
how they spend their nights and days
scornful, branding others broken
misreading love or how it's spoken

people age in painful leaps
with no regard to how time creeps
giving out or giving in
their years in such a shocking sin

people age with too much vigor
expectations pull the trigger
all the guns they point at those
who live away from what age chose

people age with no forgiveness
nor memory for the younger business
getting on with life it seems
means give up all your childhood dreams

people age in furious bounds
yet to a man it still confounds
when life is dealt its final yawn
our time is up, and where's it gone?

manic 

no matter what you may have heard...

the truth is, I'm afraid of the consequences. I don't do, and do, so many things just to avoid confrontation that I don't even know why I act the way I act. I'm this strange mix of coward and masochist. I don't want to suffer, and yet I behave like it's everything that I desire.

constantly on the run from the faces I want to kiss
forever in debt to the dollars I spare and give away
always writing the lies I don't want to speak
or is it the truths?

one day I will finally grow into what I aspire. At least I believe in that. And when I do, all of this bullshit will have not been in vain.

manic 

After three years you'd think I could wake up smiling. Where am I and where have I been? Drifting in and out of my days, finding whatever relief I can. Mostly turning off my mind.
Last night I told Ann that I like her, that I would like to get to know her better. I never really got a reaction, or at least one I could discern from her normal, extroverted gaiety.

Then I almost got into a fight. At the pub.
Which I never want to do.
Last night just became a mess.

I deserve whatever I get.

what's harder than impossible?

there is no event no eventually no even
no no no it's all a mistake. it wasn't supposed to go down this way. I had it all planned out, new job, steady routine, then I meet the girl who tears me out of my skin again. it's not you. I'm not ready yet. and besides, I just wanted to start crushing, not have all this damn potential.

~~~~~~~~~

a little piece of you just walked in my mind
like a bit of music I haven't heard in years
it seems familiar, but so far behind
catching up to me with each of my tears

I've been scared before, but not for this long
I've been alone before and that's not what hurts
every time I try it ends up all wrong
trying to ease the pain only makes it worse

the impossibility of being together
has got to be easier than being apart
just say the word and I'll love you forever
I'm just waiting for the music to start



manic 

it was a great day on Jesus' ranch

we must seek other words that mean as much as love

some level of respect, admiration, and commitment that falls in between liking and loving. move into the grey areas of passion and dedication. the small lines on the measuring stick.

or maybe I am just no longer capable of the big love I used to know. now I embrace all things casual. if I were more desirable I might lean toward the predatory side of dating. I'm a womanizer with no women. or not.

I believe I can still do it. fall in love.

i think i can ... i think i can ... i think i can 

sentimental floss

everlong

sometimes it does seem that way. I try and think maybe some kind of god will take care of things for me. then I remember that line in Unforgiven, "Deserve's got nothing to do with it"

gotta promise not to stop when I say when

i can't come up with what a woman would really mean to me. the right woman, or even the wrong one. if anything. last week seemed a good indication that i still long for someone. a thousand different someones every day. I'm too crush-weary to be specific. time hasn't done its job on every wound. I don't remember much, except that it felt right. every moment with her felt right.

and she sang

i'm anxious, and nervous, and making plans to take myself out of the game already. i hate playing games when it comes to this stuff anyway. i'll at least be the kind of man I feel good about. Life won't take that away from me again. even in moments of weakness I'll breathe in strength and understanding.

ob-la-fucking-dee 

not that manhattan

the rumors are definitely not true. but I can't testify to anything because the facts aren't clear. my memory is blurred. long day, sore muscles, pills, shots, pints, some new drug called "pretty girl talking to me"

about what? good question.

hmm. work, gambino names, places, why Italy, she did her best to be herself, with astonishing precision. flawless flirtation.

and her cb'ing office buddy. what was his name? yeah pal, I get it. she came here with you. ok, grabby guy, we're having a conversation.
down boy.

he's a lucky dog.

from end to beginning: _____zzzzzz. bed. car. booth. (I don't remember.) gotta go. Keep them guys away. Ciao. Italy. Chicago. Money. Foundation. Invitations. Bloomburg. NYC. Graphic Designer. I'm older, no, I'm older. Ally, like Ally McBeal. Sit down, you're making me nervous.

or did it start before that? 

say everything?

in the waning hours of the day, when the light is magical for hollywood dps, and the thoughts that we manage to keep at bay through work, or food, or drink, or whatever we ply ourselves with come flooding back at us, I think of a girl. or should I say, girls.

surprise surprise surprise

I think of a girl that I loved, and then I think of one who claimed to love me. the circumstances expertly arranged to make a liar out of me. the boy who claimed to fully embrace love, who made it a holy thing. who faltered.

then I think of a girl who I loved without knowing it. she put her heart in the hands of a cheap-suited used car salesman of love. she knew what she wanted, got it, and left. she's the one that frightened me into thinking that I could actually be happy, and maybe it was my fault that I'm not. I think of her every day.

I think of the girls that touched me, for their own reasons, and didn't like the feel or the fit. or maybe decided it wasn't worth all the effort. I know I don't make it easy for anyone.

finally I think about the girl who makes me wait. she already knows about her power, and doesn't wield it cruelly or without regard for the consequences. so far away, she holds court for her subject of one. in her kingdom of words and emotions. the queen of hearts. I've already told her how I feel. how long it's been since the last time I felt it. how much I like it. maybe I can just be happy.

---------

I watched Say Anything again. listened to John Cusack and Cameron Crowe talk about how Lloyd Dobler chose optimism as a revolutionary act. He CHOSE to be happy and make the best out of the world as he found it. That, above all other sentiments in the movie, is what makes it so special to me. It is truly something to which I aspire. 

deny everything

i'm just a spoke in a wheel
a part of a puzzle
part of the game
i'm being framed


it rained, I worked anyway. saw orange county, it was pleasantly mediocre. then the circle jerks.

it's been a long time coming. and well worth the wait. perhaps I've gotten closure on a portion of my life, but I'm not ready to hang up the gloves like Michael. it still works. I still love coming out of a show with that buzz,batteries charged.

hey ladies, get funky.

time to start again, I'm gonna get a jump start on spring and maybe be a little friendlier before the weather brightens my disposition. I will CHOOSE to be happy, or at least happier.

and I have nothing to hide, so, yeah, maybe I should work on that. maybe I should have a secret love, or a clandestine affair, or even a crush. it's not my fault that I'm a misfit, but it's not like I do a whole lot of trying either.

damn I hope I can still rock out like those old bastards I saw tonight when I'm in my forties. and beyond.
music is the answer.

manic 

a concerted effort to lighten up...

can you take me away from this place,
give me a weapon to fight this pain?

I will take the sun
hold it in my hand
when we both believe
then the pain just can't win

so don't let go
come on hold me tight
we'll face our sorrow
be done with the fight

I will derail desperation train
I will derail desperation

--death by stereo


here it is 2002, and I'm bored. you know the routine, if you know me. my mom might say I'm just being an aries, but it's probably a bit more than just that. I want more. I feel like I can accomplish something, but I'm beginning to understand what kind of time change takes. nothing huge, or life-altering appearing all at once. just a slow, deliberate movement toward what I desire.

let's go to the tape...

manic