thoughts in observance of a drowning pen.

"dig the change in a man...my hero has become so strange."



that line has struck me so hard several times over the past few years that it has actually brought tears to my eyes.


my hero taught me everything i need to know about life through understanding in a coffee shop window and secrets on smokey balconies late at night, never forgotten over the years. thousands of miles interchanged between ever since, the hero's eyes grown more strange to me with each distant crossing of our paths. but have i not said it myself that strange is a wonder of the world? and it is. the rope may wear thin at spots but will never split entirely when tethered to the greatest soul i've ever known.

i am sitting cross-legged on a rock in the middle of the rapids, attempting to remain as still as one can in contrast to the frenzied river waters rushing around on all sides.

although, there seems to be a rhythm in this liquid frenzy...

well, maybe in every frenzy lies a rhythm if you simply remain still in the pit of madness. clench your eyes shut tight as though you might go insane or even die if it overtakes you.

and then moments pass and you realize that you're still breathing...

chaos swirls around you in every direction and here you are sitting in as perfect a stillness as one can achieve and the chaos never slows, as it never will. that's ok for we are then allowed all the rest of eternity to liberate our souls to a rock in the rapids and find the hidden glory in every bit of this never-ending lunacy.


(please don't ever let yourselves be controlled by the uncontrollable.)


a homeless man once told me that we could all learn to live in peace if we would just stop and watch the birds.

well i'm sitting here on this massive stone in the middle of this raging river and as i'm listening to the delicate chirping of the birds in the trees over there it seems quite clear to me that the rage is really rather gentle in itself and even those tiny chirps withhold a sense of urgency...


there is madness in everything.

that is what my hero taught me and ultimately that is all i needed to know about life. and i say this for i then took that and ran and i havn't stopped since and its been so glorious and so tragic and so wonderful and mind you what is really important here is that this entire time i have not been running FROM anything at all but only FOR.

for anything and everything...


of course i can't sit on this rock forever...

(my lunch break is only so long, but no matter about that, really.)


but i can stand to go.
i can dip my toes in.
dance with insanity.
change the rhythm.
occasionally come ashore to touch dry land.
(those rapids can be the world i will forever cease to be a part of)
(derangement swirling round and round)
perch on as many rocks as possible,
in my own little madness.
and be free..

where i can sit and watch the birds.

and then there was one.

i found my last journal entry from the mexico adventure. i don't know how i left it out of that massive blog from a few days ago. anyways. here it is:



march 18th 2009. fuck time:00 p.m.

cruising along a louisiana highway. its a beautiful day for driving.

well, every day is beautiful for driving in its own aspect i suppose.

red cheeks and tip of nose. a gift from the hot texas sun as i floated down the freeway in a universe of my own, lost in the pages of a book.

the seasons are changing. and right on time.

i miss you, mexico.

i was sad to leave when i crossed back onto american soil via foot as the dawn broke this morning.

although, i do welcome the return to the road.

constant motion. dig the journey.

another piece of what i've been searching for all along has fallen into place.

my awakening has been slow...and now i see it:

that one could never handle such a strong dose of true life all at once.

letting every fix consume me completely.
bathing in satisfaction,
i feel as though i must be fully immersed.
but as the soothing waters of being truly alive continue to rise,
i realize i am barely even submerged ankle deep.

comfort in silence.
patience with words.
acceptance of unrecorded thought.

the sun sets peacefully before me after graciously providing another day.

barefaced at last. and the wind is feeling different.

every gentle breath of nature moves straight to my soul.

what is happening in this moment and what lies ahead are a mystery.
the moon will soon rise to tell me this is alright.
that everything is in its right place.

(as the sun fades faster i feel it melt beyond my now unmasked eyes, become one with the raw complexity of my soul...)

i realize that i have begun to know this already.

i can still feel mexico city though it creeps further into the distance with every letter that i write.

well, really i just feel the earth.
we are all one.

i wish the soft tingle of my breath on your neck to carry this song in the breeze and stir in you a subtle transformation.

my words can only go so far, but i will carry this with me.

to whom it may concern:

i will be here when you wake...

fear and loathing to the border and beyond...excerpts from a random mexican escapade.

3-12-2009

bertha is a writhing cunt.

she speaks when not spoken to and lies compulsively.

fucking gps, you bastardized technological spawn.

i woke up this morning, sort of, outside atlanta. i say sort of because i am unsure whether i ever fell asleep at all. my feet were freezing and its hard to rest in peace with a harsh street light hovering above the rear window, exposing every flaw in the frosted breath of late, late night, or very early morning.

(bondage cats and sparta)

nothing really noteworthy has occured thus far, just trying to haul this fucker to texas as fast as humanly possible in order to catch the bus.

good tunes. good waffles. good convo.

frank, bertha, me and the steve.

straight cruisin. barefoot and barefaced.

life seems clear.


3-12-2009 10:54 p.m.

i feel as though i'm stuck in a past i was never even a part of. decades before i was even so much as a fertilzed egg.

revelations are coming.

this was all a part of the plan. the un-plan, i suppose.

the real plan, the concert, was really all a part of something bigger, i feel. something unspoken. unknown. the plan that was a plan i did not plan. and is, in fact, always my plan.

an industrial wasteland is smoking before me. it is playful in the night and seducing to the eye. when the sun rises its true filth and destruction will become exposed...

well, back to enjoyng the darkness.


friday. march the 13th. 6:36 p.m.

drifting along the mexican plains in the back of an auto-americanos bus, mariachi music from somewhere up front. i guess they don't believe in common public transport courtesy. i don't mind though, it adds to the atmosphere.

the ease of crossing the border amazed me.

i feel free, happy, in my right place.

the land is flat and plain.

mountains soaking in the fog have begun to arise outside my window as the curtain swings playfully by my propped up foot. why would i close it?

the dangers and warnings of this place seem far, non-existent.

god the mountains are unreal in that fog, the cigarette smoke of the gods.

run down buildings here and there.

a few moments ago as i picked up my journal and began to position myself comfortably, i noticed two cows existing in the grass. i say existing because there they stood, under no apparent ownership. not a building or body or restraint in sight.

i guess even cows can simply just 'be'.

i can't help but think of my beat heroes' mexican escapades. i could hop from this bus and go off into the night. perch atop those mountains in the exhale of the unknown, as the smoke curls...

i want to grasp the hands of the masses and show them this beautiful earth. i want everyone, no man left behind, to desire and understand that peace is possible. that strangers and strange concepts and places and thoughts are beautiful. and that strange, in itself, is one of the natural wonders of the world. strange is relative of course and in this lies part of its wonder.

writing is difficult on these rickety roads.

i had a thought upon beginning. however it left me as my eyes grew transfixed on the softness of the oncoming night...

well, i guess i just see this fire and this lust for true life burning in so many people and its the same fire that rages within me and i just want them to fuel this. and to realize that nothing is stopping them.

you must plunge head first into even darkness unknown for your eyes long to meet the light and this is the way. the way to live. nothing is there to stop you except your own fear.



sunday march the 15th. 6:17 p.m.

laying on my bed in the hostel, watching from barred windows this world i am currently existing in as it exists on a lazy sunday afternoon, waiting for the taco shits to come.

real mexican food is not what i'd expected it to be. it is good, cheap, and plentiful, with orgasmic salsas and corn tortillas out the ass. however i am slightly repulsed so far by the undercooked meat with excessive fatty deposits. pork failed. beef failed, and i am not allowing myself to attempt the chicken. no fucking pollo for this senorita. a crying shame.

my first thought upon waking up this morning:

"tequila, you are a sick fuck"

never again. but hey, when in mexico...

i had to face my hatred. however, free tequila night at the hostel last night was quite the good local time. my last true memory was of wandering the warm streets of mexico city late at night on the prowl for more cerveza, not a care in the world.

they deliver pizza here on mopeds and it always comes with hot sauce on the side. and they deliver twenty-four hours a day?

this discovery immediately brightened my mood upon waking up this morning when i discovered that i had not merely dreamed of screaming 'bacon! steve! bacon!' last night but that we had, in fact, actually ordered pizzas.

well, i passed out from tequila overdose before they arrived, but it made for a pleasant breakfast.

it was such a surreal feeling waking up in the deep south of another country (supposedly ridden with danger and war but one would never know as a welcoming vibe of peace and calm radiates from every passing face). so far from everyday life. no commitments. no need for the flashing of a fake smile another day for another dollar. i feel indescribably amazing here. everyone and everything is so open and relaxed. it saddens me to realize the potency of our poison.

here, smut is peddled openly on the streets, loud music blasts from within sex shops (openly labeled as such). thank god for cultures embracing the glory of sexuality. an average looking woman stops in for a dildo before hitting the coffee shop next door. business men flip casually through stacks of porn at a street vendor. a gay couple rub one another's shoulders lovingly as they scan the back of an electro-bondage dvd in the marketplace as a child purchases an ice cream cone several yards to the right.

all on a lazy sunday afternoon.

i love how this crazy plan all came about not even a month ago.

i love that i am here.

i love a simple life.

i love seeing the world up close and personal. and as it rapidly fades into the distance through the glass of a passenger side window as i drift on.

forever embedded in my mind, an image. those shacks in the depths of night with a single dim light welcoming the chance that even one customer may roll along with a flat tire, a hunger pain, a sick liver...and smoke, lonely smoke, puffing solemnly, but in the most wonderful way, from a rusted roadside grill, as a man sits and waits...

i am in love with this earth. i am in love with not just being alive, but feeling alive.

i don't want this to end and i can't help entertaining the idea, well, the fact...that it does not have to.


march 17th 2009.

sometime after 4 a.m.

fear and loathing in mexico. day six.

money is getting tighter than a virgin's snatch. steve and i just ate pizza that has been sitting in the room, unrefrigerated, since saturday around three in the morning. i'm pretty sure that isn't healthy.

there is a raging fiesta of some sort going on across the street that i would very much like to invite myself to.

seriously, it is after four a.m. on a monday night and the street is filled with hooting hollering mexicans downing cervezas and blaring shitty rap music from a car stereo with no signs of turning in in the near future. and no sign of policio.

how fabulous. i love mexico.

although i have to admit, the two things i was most looking forward to about this trip i have determined that i actually prefer american-style: mexican food and radiohead.

as thom yorke bitterly told mexico city to 'have a nice life' and immediately followed into fucking 'creep' as the finale encore i felt a slightly unpleasant mixture of pissed off and disappointed.

damn you crazy mexican jumping beans and your fanny mc-top-hits-loving antics! damn you thom for your cruel and heartless ending!

buti immediately corrected my thoughts.

this is not my country. these fans loved that ending. they, for the vast majority, did not understand thom's exasperated sarcastic statement. they dug on creep in all its wonder-less wonder, went out thoses gates and got three fake t-shirts, a poster, and some shoelaces, and basked in the glory of a great show.

and i'm glad. this is their fucking country, not mine. they can dig on radiohead in the way they desire. and its not thom yorke's fault for being aggravated at the shitty soundsystem mishaps that managed to mangle not one, but three amazing songs.

i said it myself an entry or two or three ago, that this concert that started it all was the plan that was really a part of a bigger plan that was not, in fact, planned. i have been craving this sort of wayward adventure for years. to leave the country on a whim with a soul full enough to compensate the emptiness of my wallet.

there is so much i want to learn about this world. and about myself. and about everyone. and about life.

this is the way.

forget hesitation. erase fear. open your eyes. ask questions. question everything. condemn nothing as out of your reach. society does not always lie, but does not provide truth. find this for yourself.

"buy the ticket, take the ride."

think more. and do more. learn to separate these concepts. think for the sake of thought. do without always feeling the need to think first.

i don't know how to really begin to describe this journey to anyone. i'm starting to see life, and i mean really fucking see it, the way i have been wanting to all along.

separating thinking and doing and really delving into the infinite possibilities and saving graces of each of these individually.

the mind possesses treasures that words are not worthy of. i am getting more comfortable with accepting this. i am growing more in love with recognizing eyes that require no words for understanding.

i let a young girl sip my beer upon her eager request at the show and i have never seen a more pure and beautiful smile of freedom and chance and glorified rebellion mixed with innocence and awe...i then dumped my beer on the ground in the madness a moment later. however i did not mind surrendering the drink and the seventy pesos that went with it because i will remember the story in that smile for as long as i live.

that's what life is about.

stream of consciousness.

i guess i'm basically a fucking hobo.
i'm leaving for mexico with extremely minimal funds.
but what i have naturally can be made "enough".
my insurance dropped me because they are corpsefucking bastards.
i recieved many offers to buy my camera
which would solve not all, but alot of my current financial issues.
well i decided not to sell it.
i realize its the only thing i have of "worth" anymore.
of course i no longer have a savings account or anything of that nature.
all of that peaced out years ago
when i first started making spontaneous life changing decisions while on a boozing rampage
or under the influence of other mind altering drugs.
now that i am fucked up less often than not, i am still doing the same "crazy" and "irrational" decision making.
(apparently thats what the kids are calling it these days)
so, i guess thats a good sign.
a good sign of what, i don't know.
i'm moving into a house in the middle of nowhere upon my return.
with no food. no furniture. no money. and a part time job.
but thank god.
i now carry a bottle of sriracha in my purse.
along with a mostly empty wallet.
a book of matches.
a pack of smokes.
and a vanilla flavored chapstick.
i consider being broke a clean slate.
that way they are always plentiful.
the clean slates, that is.
i keep telling myself that i will get back "on my feet"
but i don't.
i should probably care about that.
but i don't.
i enjoy the liberation of floating with the consolation of firmly planted feet.
i don't know how this happens, but it does, and i am glad
otherwise i guess i would be a miserable fuck.
i watch msnbc news at work on closed captioning when there is no actual work to be done.
i see news about tent cities popping up on the west coast due to job loss and the "failing economy".
this is supposed to instill fear, worry, sorrow?
well, i found it comforting. resourceful. hopeful. beautiful, in a way.
i have been drinking a lot of hot tea and feel it is improving my mental clarity.
i'm ready to get this fucking show on the road.
change is happening alot and for the better.
but that doesn't make it any less overwhelming.
i just want to close my eyes and feel the sun and know that i'm drifting along,
separated from everyday life.
its always good. i leave alot these days.
but i just want more more more.
an extended fix.
the cure is near.
for a while, at least.
are you addicted?
this is alot of strange bullshit that i typed for some unknown reason and will replace tomorrow before i say goodbye to this stagnant town forever.
beginning with a path unwinding to the mexican border and nothing more to lose.
mountains hovering in the distance...
it has become a calming sight these days. pleasing to both the eye and mind.
however, i want to climb them.
at this point in life i'm not so much interested in the view from the top,
but more so in the climb in itself.
i should probably pack something other than nicotine and hot sauce soon.
just a thought.
i suppose that statement was a slight spritz of redundance
because after all,
isn't that what these all are?
just thoughts.

to remedy a constant craving for madness: indulge without question.

from early september 2008

cool morning. dim light. the air is crisp. green leaves brush my face. the weather hints that they are longing for change with the season and so am i. i hope it returns soon, but for the day fall has sneaken into this city.

it's smell mixes with the smoke in my car and stirs up memories and a feeling i miss.

i havn't felt like myself in awhile.

my impatient sense of adventure is almost choking me.

i realize i'm driving faster.

one week from today, legality will finally release me from the burdens of the past few months, i hope.

stop sign. i close my eyes. i breathe in deeply the smell of fall, car smoke, and freedom. i watch the sparks play on the pavement after i toss my cigarette from the window.

i pull away. i contemplate life. i'm glad to be alive.

thank god i'm thinking irrationally again.

late night smokes in the rain, thoughts from a long-loathed front porch.

from early october 2008


[chirps of insects match twitching leaves.
the wind whistles.
headlights flicker and emerge,
then pass...
this is now your night,
learn to love it.]





i feel the mental anguish of a tiny water droplet,
lying atop a gentle green leaf
after a harsh night's rain.

i roared through the sky with fleeting passion
amongst others so inclined,
yet now i tremble alone in the breeze.
not a tremble of fear,
perhaps impatience.
bursting with latent thought and energy,
trapped by the presence of a seemingly uncontrollable force

i can only hope for a confident wind
or the bending of my stem
to send me to the edge,
plunging me down into the salvation of the unknown
before i evaporate.

for now, i cling.

the proper moment will present itself
and this is all a part of the plan

one love, one heart, forty-seven mosquito bites on one foot, and the secret to the universe. (the badlands. night one.)

*

recalled from late summer 2007

*

the rocks were vicious, silently beckoning our feet to follow. and they seemed to go on for days.

*

i remember struggling to push my fear aside as i lept from one to the other to keep up.

*

our stomachs were empty and our bodies exhausted, but we were finally here. our destination more vast and unreal than could ever have been imagined, engulfing us in its silent wonder. the cracking open of a cool beer seemed to echo for eternity. closing my eyes i can still hear it now, clear as day. a cold brew slithering down my throat best enjoyed divulging my senses in the purity of nature.

*

i feel nature reaches out to speak:

*

*

come as you are for i am as i am and will continue to be.

scrub the paint from your eye, smash the mask to your soul,

lie naked in my purity and i will bathe you in something real.

my green children slash your skin

as barefoot, you go forward in my midst,

giggling as you spit curses from dry lips.

walk me long and far and your skin would grow raw and not feel this pain,

as raw your soul should be to repel all the pain in your plastic world.

i am here, i am what is real.

my air waltzes to caress your skin,

i draw a salted bath to heal your wounds and sing you to sleep as it breaks.

in darkness my stars will show you the way.

you may abandon your life of meaningless voids and man-made obligation.

i offer a desert plateau upon which your body may rest one night,

and one day i will sob for you as you soak through and tremble.

i will remind you who you really are.

*

*

the sky that night was indescribable. i felt such beauty must be sacred. a swirling phenomena of smoldering colour and cloud. i was speechless. in awe. terrified. as though on spiritual ground. i hardly wanted to move, even blink, for fear i may never again witness a sight so powerful. my camera mysteriously broke just as the sun began to set and i remember clutching our beers and knowing that not even a picture would ever describe these monstrous visions in the clouds. the colors melting in and around one another and the impending doom of thousands of feet of sillouhetted rock. for the rest of our lives no one would ever know how incredible the scene being painted in our vision was. nature seemed to whisper that this was our little secret tonight.

*

barely a soul for hundreds of miles. only a few others scattered nearby. all silent. hushed, even the caramel skinned children who moments before had been running in circles shouting feverishly in spanish with the innocence of pure and uncontrollable youth.

*

i knew a year and a half ago sitting outside our tent that night, that i would frustrate myself with the words to write about it.

*

what i saw. entwined with how i felt...

*

a chill is running up my spine even now. to the handful that night lying in the desert sand, it was a true gift. a secret. i surrender my words and in exchange that vision and that feeling forever will remain branded to my soul. and maybe one day i will find it again.

racing the sun in a '93 saturn with five cases of beer coursing through your veins

from May 2006





what is life really about anyway?

we are born. we learn to speak. we learn to feel and live and say our abcs, but why? who decided that letters, like the ones i'm typing right now, can form together to make words?

because one day someone woke up and decided to put everything together, to give it a meaning, to teach it to society, to spread it as far as they could, and that is what is the norm, what is acceptable, what is the best way to live.

kind of like how one day someone printed the face of an elderly man onto a small strip of paper and called it money. in turn that piece of paper acquired value and importance and became a necessity to live, to survive. kind of like that piece of paper became another piece of paper, slightly less flimsy; more simply designed and easier to use, a check. you arent actually dispensing multiple strips of value but one, one that represents the value as a whole.

eventually the value morphed into plastic. drop it, rip it, it will not budge, and yet slides so easily into a machine that reads and calculates the value, reducing it accordingly because the bread you needed to feed your family is worth so much. eventually that value became non existent, a credit, there for those who, if asked, could not produce those multiple strips of paper that were given so much meaning long ago. but these people want to be accepted, they want to be distinguished and possess material items to achieve what they are fooled to believe is the meaning of happiness. or perhaps hold no other choice to get by.

the world has become such a selfish and depressing hole that people will continue to bury themselves in it until they cant get out.

DEBT.

more paper, more plastic, and you will find your way out. says who?

question everything.

but why can we as a society simply not just exist? just feel? love, hate, experience, and appreciate everything in this world that existed before materialism and social class consumed us? and by us I do refer to the majority of the society, there are indeed a few of those left who really and truly live.


it is sometime after four a.m. you've been drinking and can't sleep. you hop in the car at random to drive for hours and you do this because well, you just can. racing the sun in a ninety-three saturn with five cases of beer coursing through your veins... and somehow making it to the oceanfront alive. you watch the sharp rays of the rising sun reflect from the ocean, shining onto a reverse three dimensional symbol of peace carved into the sand.

the tide will come, and this will disappear, but it was experienced. just a velvet strip of sand for miles, a glittering body of water so large and powerful but so serene at this instant, enjoying its last hours of freedom before society engulfs it. A free spirit cast here and there, FEELING and just BEING as they were meant to.

god blessed us with five senses vital to existence: sight, touch, hearing, taste, and smell. At this moment, you need nothing else, and you realize this, and you try to put it into words because that is what you have been taught to do, but you are speechless.

nineteen years old with a cold beer and a cigarette in hand, sand clinging to your damp skin as you continue to let the water wash up on your bare legs.

true happiness.

you are two years short of society not condemning you for the beverage and an eternity short of them not looking down on you for inhaling a little smoke into your lungs because its one of those calming little pleasures in life. but you are above society, you know that you are alive, you know that you will die, and you rise above.

above what?

if you need to ask then you are not there yet.

the world is calm, still, quiet except for the waves gently contacting the shore, delicately as though they do not want to disturb anything that is happening in this moment. its so beautiful and yet only a literal few are there to embrace it.

now disappear.

reappear at this same scene mere hours later and the sand is gone, replaced with bodies, umbrellas, towels, and sunscreen to shield us from the beautiful fire which lights the earth and makes our very existence possible. the water glistens but not as passionately, it breaks onto the shore no more heavily than before, but children run from it.

it isnt as beautiful now.

not because it doesnt appear beautiful, feel beautiful, sound beautiful, taste beautiful, smell beautiful, but because this is the only moment during which society really appreciates it because now it has value. living temporarily or permanently in this location requires money, it requires time. It requires rebuilding your beach house year after year to surpass the height of the one next to it. it requires buckets and shovels and tanning oil and bikinis and necessities like a t shirt stating that yes, you were at the beach for your one week of vacation in the summer of 2006.

who says that you only get an allotted time period of freedom throughout your life now?

perhaps you will purchase a bottle of sand, a keychain, a bumper sticker, a ten dollar margarita with an umbrella on top, and a hermit crab to really top off the trip. perhaps your children, if you have them, will cry if they do not receive these things, because while the experience itself was amazing, you must have the material possessions to prove so.

but this is not any fault of their own. we are all raised in this state of mind, and we are all given the chance later on in life to repel it and break free.

clarity in the breeze.

from february 24th, 2009




at times i can't help but miss friendships that seemed to disappear into thin air after last summer. life here has been so strange and ever-changing. there have been no constants. and there are so many tiny freedoms that i miss. but i am a better person now. a stronger person. i have slowly gotten my life back. and i deserve it.


sitting here alone in my room, again, i find it hard to remember who i was two months ago. and nearly a year ago when i first moved here. who was that girl who drank herself into oblivion on a barstool seven nights a week?

when i decided january first to finally get my alcohol problem under control, i didn't realize i would end up as much of a recluse as i did. but i'm indifferent towards it really, the being alone. enough time has not passed that i can't still smell the loneliness and desperation that lingered heavily on my being, at a time when i was constantly surrounded by others.

who was that girl?

who were those people?



the tragedy is misunderstood.


the sun is rising and i havn't been to sleep.


envy of solitude and distant noise. my lack thereof causes me to question my life again.

i question everything. i will probably never stop.

i have given up on the misconceived notion of right and wrong decisions. as long as you are doing something rather than nothing you can't be but so wrong. every path you take will eventually lead you astray, its only a matter of when and where this will occur.

suffocating in my life with b. is so far gone. thank god. i can no longer grasp any reality in what it was. what sort of reality can one really find in a blackout? my body ached and my heart constantly raced, but both for matters only of poor health, not like or lust and certainly not love. dragged to the bottom.

my life before that i can barely recall. its so unfamiliar now. the faces have come and gone. memories i can see but not feel, like they are not my own.

my decisions changed so suddenly i'm not even sure what lies at the heart of my reasoning. the truth is, i could stay or leave this place. the uncertainty is why.


"everything is temporary"




sometimes, i like to make lists of insignificant things to do, simply for the joy of crossing them off.





as i did so this morning (it feels so long ago), i realized that writing 2009 still feels strange and unnatural. but what is unnatural is my soul finally at ease and the strangeness lies in familiarity of self from a year when that nine was upside down.

my heart is torn between two cities. the current of my memories is strong and longs to pull me north. one day i will surrender my body and let the ocean carry me home. but as hard as it is to say, i know i am not ready. so i will deny the easy way out, this time.

i am certainly no stranger to this struggle to get by. it has never seemed to end for me. although i don't mind it this way, and somehow in it find comfort as well. poor and alone, but strong and at peace.

some often forget that nature is always there, shelter from the cold. the sun will always warm your face as trees outstretch accepting arms forever.

this earth is immense, it's hopeless voids are many. they lie not in the deepest canyon or the most barren wasteland, but in the stone heart of those with no hope for a better tomorrow. he who longs not for the clarity in the breeze but the false comforts in his wallet.

i have become witness to a quality of life i can now never stray from.


i truly came alive the day i realized that the ocean is vast beyond all my understanding and that money isn't real. and i swear the sun had never reflected so brightly on the waves than at that very moment...

i finished my beer, buried my cigarette in the sand...and three years later, here i am. my life has never been the same.



and my fucking god, it feels good to be alive.

satori. or whatever the zen buddhists are calling it these days.

from december 14th, 2008.

[sitting on doug's bed. they are playing risk, again. i have been drinking heavily and admiring the fishtank. i wonder how i get these things sometimes. from a fucking glass of cigarette butts...]





no matter how apparent the steadiness of the glass
temperamental bedfolds may lead to disaster
at the slightest shift in position.
the difference lies in whether it falls half empty
or half full.
if half full, it falls and you lose everything.
if half empty,
you had nothing to lose in the first place.
which is worse?

we should not bother ourselves with such silly questions of our character.

so expect nothing and appreciate everything.
always seek more.
the glass is neither half empty nor half full,
it just is.

and i find myself satisfied with such...

just being.

fuck you, venti: an ode to corporashit america.

from february 11th, 2009.



time to kill. my veins are pulsating for a hot fix.

the monster lurks above me, the green sign i so greatly despise for all it represents: corporate takeover in america.

i linger in the doorway clinging to my laptop, slowly dragging the final remains of my morning cigarette. i check the clock again. my eyes are drooping. BEHOLD, the demon...

i enter starbucks.

now granted, i have never actually taken a handful of dirt and shoved it onto my mouth while simultaneously slurping week old taco-shit water from a twisty straw, but that is what starbucks' black coffee tastes like to me. i'm not one for fancy drinks and intricate names. just give me my fucking caffeine and give it to me now.

actually, i have never had a bad experience with a starbucks employee, they are always quite pleasant and enjoyable. so, may i have a small black coffee, please? there there, that's more like it. just because i fucking loathe your chain of doom and your endless herd of sheep doesn't mean i must fucking loathe you. by god, please, take money from this bastard.

DO ALL THAT YOU CAN TO STOP THESE GOD DAMNED PARASITES FROM SPREADING.

sometimes, i just cannot bring myself to consume what i am convinced is the worst tasting coffee to meet my tongue in this lifetime, but i need a hot beverage to soothe my soul . sometimes, in these times, that money tinted sign (the color of the plague of modern society) is the only relief for miles.

in these times, i will walk up to the counter and order a large chai tea latte with skim milk. i do this with a pleasant grin on my face as employee number one (fake smiling happy customer maker) shouts out to employee number two (the whipped cream squirting barista bitch)
"VENTI NON FAT CHAI!!!"
to which employee number two shouts to some other fucking aspect of this assembly line,
"VENTI NON FAT CHAI!!!"
and i hand over my money and tip their little jar and feel like a sell-out for giving in to the beast. now, employee number five thousand six hundred and seventy four, (placer of final product of world takeover on small counter-er) shouts again,
"VENTI NON FAT CHAI!!!".
i then grab said product and exit the premises as fast as humanly possible while holding tightly my large chai tea latte with skim milk, and onto the fact that i will never speak the language of the robots.

so, back to the present. me entering the starbucks, ordering the small black coffee...

"would you like room for cream?"

you fucking imbecile, black coffee does not involve this cream you speak of!

i'm sorry. i don't hate you. i know its all a part of the script.

"TALL BLACK!"
"TALL BLACK!"
"TALL BLACK!"

oh my god, get me out of here.

well, today i attempted a mild experiment in people watching. i sat down in starbucks by myself and of my own free will. i planned to sit and type until i had to go to work as i observed the interactions of those around me. (note: i work in the central shopping plaza of yuppie town usa) until i found out that i had to pay $3.99 plus tax for two hours of internet use (of which i would only be using approximately forty minutes). and then i decided there was no way in fuck i was giving in that much.

i felt slightly disgusted sitting there. i have to dress nicely for work and with my coffee cup and my laptop i seemed nearly to blend in with this crowd. the feeling made my skin crawl. i scowled once more at the prompt for my debit card information and pulled out fear and loathing in america instead. close to eight hundred pages of purely delightful gonzo correspondence. i feel much better now that i have suddenly become more conspicuous. being that my face isn't covered by the new york times, the wall street journal, or a prissy hand drenched in diamonds covering my mouth daintily as i laugh about today's most important gossip.

god some people make me want to vomit. or maybe it was the coffee...

i really don't scorn these people. i appreciate and accept everyone to cross my path. however i sometimes look around and think to myself that i would rather be anally raped, sans lube, by a rabid elephant with crabs than end up like them. but by all means, if the season's largest designer handbag and a white picket fence are what it takes to satisfy you in life, more power to you, as long as those things fill you with genuine happiness. and i'm not being a sarcastic bitch. it would fill me with great sorrow to know that those whose main priorities in life are material posession and fulfilling the cliche american dream, are doing it all in vain.

will you ever know the exhilaration of poverty and desperation as it coincides with the wind on your face while you drift along a lonesome highway, dozing off in a passenger seat to the soundtrack of your life, without a care in the world but being free and living to see the sunrise somewhere new when you wake?

i have no hostility, judgement, or lack of attempted (and often successful) relation towards those with different intentions than myself. i suppose that what i do have, is a certain loneliness in my thoughts and lifestyle, but one that i enjoy in a strange way. i also possess a longing to find others so inclined. be it whether i befriend and know you well, or merely speak with you only once in passing. perhaps i might crash on your couch in the midst of some wayward adventure. even so small an encounter as to puff away at a cigarette alongside you on the crowded street corner of an unfamiliar city, meeting nothing but your eyes and your vibrations...

i love it when i get to experience those mad crazy spirits that just simply get it. when no explanation is necessary. no matter how big or small, epic or insignificant it may seem.

anyway, i could write a novel on the relation of starbucks to modern society and my views on life. i am truly satisfied with being alive right now, at last. i am broke, again. but since when do i really and truly care about that? this too shall pass. in a week, when i am paid. i have made alot of changes for the better this year and it is only february. i am grateful for what this change has brought me thus far and enthralled for what lies ahead.

where there is a will, there is a way. and i have so much will built up that i could thwart off an entire army of giant squid with a book of matches and three pennies (the contents of my wallet)...and take over the sea.

(disclaimer: this was meant merely as a general stab at corporate establishments. no offense was meant to starbucks employees and patrons. unless of course you happen to be a shitty person regardless of your choice of java. )

snow.

i've never kept one of these blog things on a public area of the web. but i have alot written down, so what the hell? someone might read it. i figured i would start with something i jotted down today...then backtrack through a mass array of past writings. it will most likely turn into a clusterfuck. but its time i got all of this crap in one place for my own peace of mind. well, ciao. :-)





i relish the tranquility in what i like to refer to as 'snow quiet'.

snow quiet can only be achieved once at least four inches have blanketed the ground and perch firmly on every over-hanging tree branch, before the roads have been paved, and as the daily grind has been put on hold.

when mother nature saves us from ourselves, if only for one day.

activity is scarce and sporadic sounds, few and far between, (a siren in the distance. a falling branch. the slow drip of an icicle as it melts in the sun) are muted as they touch the white blanket in which the world may now swim and remain lost until the air grows warmer and the plow makes its way.

in snow quiet the sun is bright, nearly blinding the eye as it reflects from even the dullest matter, that which only yesterday appeared most pitiful, even wretched, to the common eye.

radiant silence. a stillness that somehow gently brushes your face, seduces your soul, chills the spine.

you feel you should close your eyes, breathe in deeply.

(an engine in the distance...)

embrace this.

when the world stops, everything makes sense.

the warmth of your coffee as it slides down your throat explodes in contrast to the cool flakes which softly kiss your neck.

the approaching rumble of the plow grows louder...

and then you realize that in this moment, you don't need to close your eyes.

the rush of an uncontrollable shiver stirs your thoughts. the coffee is luke-warm. the quiet is broken as the plow appears and snow slowly parts from the street you have been staring at in lonesome thought for the past ten months.

staring at as you have sat and smoked and contemplated life and experienced an undeniable evolution of self. only two weeks left.

cars are now rolling along with ease.

i guess the grind can't stop forever.


(the bondage of a robotic society)


but i will always come and go as i please.


(for bondage should exist only in the form of deviant sexual pleasure.)


i realize that my coffee has grown cold as i turn to go inside.