THIS SIDE OF PARADISE

THIS SIDE OF PARADISE:

2006-11-10T03:30:00.000-08:00

I've told some of you but if your wondering why I havent I posted in a while I started a livejournal ---> wordfuriedwhore.livejournal.com thats where I'll be posting all my new stuff. I'll still use this blog to post old work from the notebook chest... just gotta get organized... ya know. So dont stop checking back here, I will be posting old stuff soon. But if you want something *******!NEW AND EXCITING!******* take a looky at my livejournal oh oh and if your getting sick of me go to haphazardpoets.livejournal.com <---- some amazing writes by some amazing characters I know

wordfuriedwhore

2006-11-01T06:13:00.000-08:00

the blue flame lit up- and shot to the side for the fuck of it- you said- sweet things- my lungs feel much better today- my stomach is rolling- but I'll take that- thick- power- black - and hope for the best- through arched up collars- Im looking at you as hopeful as your talking- your hoping- I really am all that you say- your hopingthat i will push the limit- 407- BAKER- no one I knew for sure- why am I thinking bakersfield?- what does that mean?- in the name of death- newborns- fairies and jezebel- and those blue speks in your eyes- specially- special- when you cry out or wimper- i knowits you- its always been you- im sorry- but you were right- you will never calm me- I will always bleed- for you-

2006-10-24T00:07:00.000-07:00

say it with me` I will always be gracious` I will always be gracious` I will always be gracious` This really isnt a small world` but keep your karma in line` and good things will happen` even if I dont know what to do with it` I will always be gracious`

more for the geminis

2006-10-24T00:05:00.000-07:00

with all these more-than-coinsidence connections, Im not even baffled- Im meeting people under odd circumstances that I know I knew in a past life- at least- and they agree, its mutual. And I've got some crazy cosmic draw to Geminis And virgos are angry and inspiring. I could even stand a cigarette with a Cancer. And I will never date an Aquarius again. Im awake! and I keep thinking: those Geminis... I just want to bite all their necks, not to hard, but leave a little mark, just to say, hey, I appriciate what your doing for my mind, I appriciate my frustration with you and the fact that your pants are still on, thanks...- Today, my favorite Gemini and I tried to sell some books, and on the way we did the "freestyle poetry" thing. When he says something beautiful, he moves his hands alot. I tell him to write that down. he put his hands to his chest and looked at me, I replyed: We crawl over old words like dead bodies, and make something new from it, when we make words, all order is reversed, rocks tumble up and smoke billows down.... We're talking about writing a book together. fucking Geminis.... your beautiful.

2006-10-19T23:26:00.000-07:00

Im always saying to myself, Im not committed... Why do I have to plan on going insane? Two weeks notice- at least- because I DO care about some of these people, its that mutual feeling, people care about me, so I guilt myself into caring back. I WANT OUT. GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. Before I slip back into that winter drug routine. It doesnt even scare me right now. And thats scary. I want to get high. But I CANT. because Im COMMITTED. How did this happen? How am I so childish... but so adult that I have to plan on being spontanious? This is bullshit. This place is bullshit. ROLES are bullshit. And I know this... So how did I fall into it? I want to find a 3k diamond. I want that clippers and a post it note feeling again. I want to be angry. Im too ok with this.

2006-10-18T04:16:00.000-07:00

The 'i heart yous' are wispered through sleep- I think back: ~lets go somewhere~, lets just take the money and leave, two bus tickets to New Mexico, ---- then we can dance over the border.- and work our way down... eventually to the right.- Really darling, you mean alot to me, ----- ~get me the fuck out of here.~- I was half dreaming with you right behind me- again.... blue ponies- words arnt pushed through when it comes to you- no grader needed- even when you cant say it right- I understand- and when you cant even say- darling- I know what your thinking- please, get me out of here.- you choked down everything unsettled in me- its almost gone- Im ready- lets just be.... - anywhere- lets get. the . fuck . out of here.........

kissing is strange

2006-10-15T14:49:00.000-07:00

Quickly- We were waiting for the east bound max- man comes running in circles with a bottle of rum- he was dressed nice- a girl with wild hair came stumbling after- she tried to seem angry but she wasnt, they fell into each other, and kissed, I forgot that people can see you when you see them, I thought they were beautiful,- she looked at us and told us we were beautiful, it was probably just the lighting - she asked me, "where did you get your bag? Old navy? (no) gap? (no) hollister?" (ah! no!)- I went in there once and they looked at me like I was insane, I just was walking by and liked the smell. -I told her, "second hand", she said something like "ah right, second hand, see... thats it, thats good..." her and the boy mouth raped each other again and stumbled off, I really liked that girl's hair.--- I kissed a girl on a street corner with green eyes and hair like that once,- a passing car yelled obscenities at us and she pulled me closer and wrapped one leg around me twice.---- Where does the instinct to push our eating holes together and get off on it come from anyways?

2006-10-14T13:25:00.000-07:00

The hot ones, get off on themselves- not nessisarily all over, they dont even have to be naked, and they can have peircings or tattoos... or not.- Im okay with between your legs and staying right there for now, and I think your okay with it too.- Even if the possibilities we talked about were more than possibilities, Im okay with just talking about them for now, even if there were more options.- Maybe the next step scares me- maybe Im scared of getting off- maybe not- maybe Im afraid of losing my inspiration- like it will all pop out in one big bubble of thought when an orgasm comes- and Im afraid I'll forget before I write it down- maybe Im afraid the possibilities will make new overwhelming ideas-because they're different ideas- maybe thats why I'm just writing about it. Chewing Ice... sex isnt that frustrating right now, it will be later- It'll be fucking angry- but Im okay with right now. Muse me like you said you I muse you. "put it in my hand and tell me how much pressure it takes to get you off..."

warner bros.

2006-10-13T21:43:00.000-07:00

Some random things happened, we smoked alot of cigerettes and got nothing done, we told each other what we've done and what we're trying to do, over waffles and fiz I said, "You know, the definition of insanity, is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results..." "I didnt know that... well then Whiley Coyote is one sane pup" says kyle, "he never did the same thing twice, and he always got the same result." Do you think warner bros. meant it that way? a play on the mind... do you think they're waiting for someone to understand what that says about life? Do you have any idea how many people really do understand???? How many brilliant ideas never get out there because they dont have the means or they simply dont know how to say it? Its not fair.

2006-10-13T21:31:00.000-07:00

8 hours of bullshitting- sip- drag-sip-drag- I bit a fake pearl- and then I smoked it down- I know what I want, but I wont write it- because I know whos reading this------- fuck it, I'll just say it, I want it rough- Im starting to think my thought process is a little to connected- Did you write that down? my relationships are random, and unstable, if I can stand them, I like it like that- they're generally more brief then expected, thats my fault, I know- Bukowski, are you listening? Jesus, are you fucking listening? I didnt think so... I want to go this way, if your up for it, you can meet me where ends meet.

2006-10-13T21:28:00.000-07:00

MY bullshitters paradise is just that, bullshit, Im not happy at all that you said so, Im actually pretty fuckin pissed, but thank you. Im not angry at you, I know whats wrong with me, and I could change it. Im not scared because I cant figure out what I want. I know what I want, I want this, I want to stay right where I am. I dont take medication for my problems partly because I dont believe in conventional therapy, but mostly because Im inspired through it, I like what I can do with it. I like being crazy, and random and scary, part of me even gets off on lying to people about it. Thats why I dont show my emotions. and I really. hate. that you see through the bullshit. In any case, thanks, right now Im content with it, but later, I'll probably think about it, make it more complex than it actually is, I'll try to run, even if you dont let me, that'll probably just tweek me, I'll run faster. Thats what would happen in any other scenario, but right now, Im fucking okay with it. WHAT THE FUCK...!!!!!!!! I might not mind eating something greek. Right now, I DO want the vampire out of you.

2006-10-13T03:49:00.000-07:00

Kyle says: "the most predictable thing about nicole is that shes unpridictable. the strange thing about life, is without your lungs you'll die, but if you pay attention to the way that you breath, or the way that anybody breathes for that matter, you can breathe any consistancy of air from heavy to light, or light to heavy, thick or thin... you know that they even have liquid oxygen? strange how lungs are one of the most important parts of the body, and they only do one thing: they breathe. thats it, randomness, you wanted me to say something, thats random jank, J-A-N-K." -KYLE

Head First, Gemini-

2006-10-12T20:07:00.000-07:00

I like this: off the rim.- I dare someone to try and surprise me again. Or understand me when I'm half asleep, daydreaming, and talking random nonsense about the smell of blue ponies. I am not an easy explination. In a dream I had, the devil asked me to relive the memories of my couch, I told him I just might name fifty or so people. "How can you explain yourself- and explain me- and know it without saying a word-even when I do- and not even have it be your intention?"

2006-10-09T03:21:00.000-07:00

tonight, I walked out onto my back porch for a smoke and had one of those intense-cigerette-dropped-out-of-my-mouth-and-I-could-sense-it-with-everything-considerations- its a little hard to explain exactly what that means or why its so important, it might have been the rain smell, but, my dangerous poets: I want to thank you. you brought back something I didnt think I could find anywhere but in trees and horse hair back home.- -tongue. in . cheek.-- thats how you make me think, my insomniac friends- my eyes are burning but I dont care. Im going to sell everything and paint in the yard. and I think I could mix you all in with the charcoal sky because right now even that dull shade of black moves me----------------------------------------------------- just... thank you.

2006-10-06T05:09:00.000-07:00

I said: show me your blood. -Why?-I want to know how alone in this I really am. I didnt expect that black liquid to be so thin. This is something I want to rub between my fingers. I am right here. Why is that so wrong? I think I'll sleep on it. I miss my mom anyways.

JAMES:

2006-10-06T03:27:00.000-07:00

I told you once, don’t nail it up- You diamond- I don’t want to know whether we’ll be here too much longer- A real artist would set it on the floor- Put down that cigarette, -wipe that smirk you hide behind off your face- And fucking talk to me- tell me- What are you hiding?- I already know but I want you to say it - I want to know what about me made such a mess of you- I want you to stop justifying what you did and just apologize - I was driving back down that thick road we went back and forth on so many times- Last winter- To our expired stomping ground- And I echoed back to that small hard wooded place we shared- Where we made greek salads and never did the dishes- And we had a bed but we slept on the floor- That memory was loud- I liked it- But I don’t want it back- It was wonderful but I don’t miss it- And when I woke up there the other day- I wasn’t even overwhelmed- It wasn’t even about the memories anymore- Its not hard going back, -and Im not even slightly tempted to stay- I don’t even feel the bad energy you moved in and fucked our home into- I just remembered sitting at our big table, a couple days before Christmas, -you were asleep, -we had no money, -we were starving and very much in love--- And I want to know, why cant we just leave it at that?- We both know we’re not in love anymore.- Why do you have to relegate the memories?- Why do you have to dissect every little argument, -trying to figure out what went wrong or find a reason for it to be my or your fault?- It is what it is.- We don’t love each other anymore.- That’s not all bad. - Why couldnt you just leave it at that?-

hey kids- drugs makes stupid smart thoughts

2006-10-06T02:21:00.000-07:00

November 2004::::: I could find contentment in nothing to holy- or even in the dirt- the dirt I turn my thoughts over in- I know Im not a poet through my writing- theres nothing I've held so close to me- but truth is angry- lies that never knew the words- i want to show everyone- that I dont care to much for anything-I've never felt so much of others anger- and still remained so nuetral- (sic) for effect:- dope hurts, kids.... influences: teenaged angst, methanfedamines, pills, pink floyd, angry step fathers...

winterish- the weekish Kate came back: god I was angry

2006-10-06T02:12:00.000-07:00

I cant write anymore lately- I've said it before- its hard when you've gotten used to shutting hurt out- But right now, it hurts so damn bad, Triggers: Marilyn Manson, Drunk last 3 nights, Kate's caught and I can fucking taste it- What now?- Im trying to be a back bone- or fall back- whatever the fuck you want to call it- But to be honest, I want it just as bad- I only write like this now- and I guess I dont have to explain what this is, because, well, you can see it- and reading this... you wouldnt even understand- Im fucking dead- Im empty- This feeling: like anger is nuetral, high is happy, and dead with crimson dead thoughts- like reflection is real and theres nothing behind it- Happy is fucking estatic- beautiful- clouds and stars under me- everything else is dead so it doesnt fucking matter- I was real when it was in me- Im alive now-

2006-10-03T23:56:00.000-07:00

Today, I made a frame in my mind,- and placed inside it, all the important things.- Statuesque: I want to tell you, your barely there- if you ask me with out saying a word, I might just tell you everything.- I want you to know,- Im not that dangerous whore you speak of.- Yes, I am still rutted, I've been here for a little over 2 years,- I havent painted since then, - or taken a picture, - or anything else - that I could use as a back up to the I-call-myself-an-artist claim. - Except maybe jot a few words about it.- I told you once,- Im still stuck in the foot notes stage,- That was about 2 years ago.- But I feel it coming, I've just got to find the time,- and lose the debt,- and quite my job and sell everything.- thats it, I just need more floor space,- a bigger canvas- more room to move,- less comittments, -and leave the love where it is.- I like that-------

DRUNK ROMANTICS (Another Highlight...for Chris-Alicia-Nick)

2006-09-30T11:21:00.000-07:00

These are those moments- of self-induced teenage angst- That seem to last forever- Even after the excuses are over- and He's gone- and we're left here- with nothing to look forward to- not him, not us, never again- left here- with old moments- never forget you moments- twitching for new moments- it's all the same- I cant see how different it's gonna be- our moments...- so we stretched the truth- (shrug)-we're still hoping for the best- pretending it never happened- the latest next best thing to talk about- next to the inside out girls and stolen stereos- and why do WE need an excuse?- Cause deep down,- its right- its an all around experience- or several- and its not as dramatic as we make it seem- when were done- with our creation- we cried over it- we sweat through it- and we have the marks to prove it- our sweat made it beautiful- crying over it made it hot- we've created poetry- painted it romantic- with black eyeshadow- and push up bras- tampered with our reputation, the one no one respected anyway,- and anyway...- we dont give a damn- we did it- its over- everyone's leaving- didnt think about the good time chances we might have butchered- for the sake of a good high- a fake high- we wernt even on anything- as far as each other knew... and still... her and I- we're left here- stuck thinking about that future moment- the moment when its actually over- and everyone goes home- in a ball field, talking about our boys- and the good ol' days- on a curb, kicking empty beer cans- gnawing on swells that will never heal- lying on the street lit bugs and concrete- drunks stepping past us- with the smell of our future- like they're seen this all already- you can see they're smugness- all the way through their rolled back eyes- because they know- they went through the same thing- and still offer us no counseling- thinking we should suffer just as much as they did- and we're already suffering-more than you know- alone- no excuses- self-proclaimed poets- drunk romantics

WAKING UP

2006-09-25T01:54:00.000-07:00

I fell asleep about 3 years ago- and after 8 months of rebound and reabilitation- I figured it would be worth it to give it all up- I got high on the determination to get myself to my feet and on a higher level- I slept the last 3 days and boredom off- to the point where I couldnt remember what I dreamt- I couldnt remember why I was still here- or what went wrong- it's 2am again- the same as back around the clock once- I'm back to thinking it never changes- and the cycle wont stop- itching and twitching- everythings asleep but me- its been 3 years...- and I miss the times when the drugs were good for me- and my self induced depression was something to look forward to- I focused all my attention on prentending I couldnt help it- and I was right- and now that I've realized this- Its turning to something real- and Im waking up- and just like before- I dont think I can handle it-----

the red wall.

2006-09-25T01:38:00.000-07:00

Cant sleep.- Cant eat.- No joke. -I sunk in without knowing it.- and its only midwinter- midnight- and delerious in thought- Im feeling everything- vibrations- and everything I am- all molded together- with my dried flowers- and my guitar I've played so loud lately- and I'm damn happy about it.- Knowing that I know whos pulling a trick on me, and why- and Im okay with it-Because I've tried other ways of thinking- and all thats left to do is go with the flow- and show the real me through a series of un-shy moments, un-caring moments, look-like-shit moments.- But its okay- Because I've recorded lately- In my half awake war- Im well aware, its the worst thing I've ever written- But thats alright- Its something to look back on- When Im back to routine, and I cant recall what it feels like to lay there until I realize- I cant stop moving- and I act out instead- alone, in my room- I cant sleep- and it feels so damn good.

where the paradise plays in:

2006-09-25T00:48:00.000-07:00

I've felt this before, like echoing on hardwood floors. What I'm thinking past is nothing like the visual I get from this feeling, from this smell, but still,- I'd say its the dusty hard wood floors, and the white wash walls, that give me that same feeling everyone gets from something new. Something that reminds you of frosted dirt, so different from you it makes you smile a burning smile. It's the way I felt and saw and smelled, when I walked into our new house 4 years ago. At the time I had been down about the pettiest of things, nothing to bad had happened to me, that i could remember, it was just normal teenage angst, and it was the worst I'd ever had it. I got out of the car and the empty October air hit me immediatly. I held my mittens in my hand but didnt put them on, I liked the way my hands looked with the new background. I felt a lump in my throat and decided to just let it out. Like maybe if she saw my tears, she'd know how they burned, and she'd remember what it felt like,- to hate, and to hurt so bad for what you dont actually want and what you miss,- like maybe we could turn back now, and I could go back to slow moving maturity, and the latest things to think about like reputation, and boyfriends, and wondering why the first girl who kissed me hated me so much. I was so sad and angry with the situation I was in before we came here, all I knew was I was screwed up and wanted out. But as we walked through the leafs and frost to our new front door, I wanted so badly to turn back. I didnt know this place and I didnt like it, I closed my eyes and felt myself fall, I wanted to get past the ignorance, I wanted to get past feeling this way, and the ingnorance to what I felt and how the hell I was sapose to help myself. It was all I knew, and changing my scene I knew would change me, and I didnt want to take the chance of this change being for the worst...... MORE------------>

ALRIGHT so it actually goes like this:

2006-09-24T23:46:00.000-07:00

THE BLUE GARDEN LANGAUGE Chorus #1: Wont you help me? Live the Jack and Maggie dream? Where I welcome you to the new day, with a simple kiss one that matters one that can mold into vapor all the way through your ignorant,- no more, less.... inexperienced temple So close to your ear- I'll scream to love you while your beautiful blue eyes are growing inside me and I could paint our chairs red and our mattress will rest on the floor for what it matters- I could write for you pages with sonets mixed in and we would no less than blend you Are the fire and Im the brick that contains you we'll become the envy of our railroad town every night they'll watch our shadows fall into each other and wonder... and no one can push me out of your mind even with our dirty gutters or cotton on the clothes line- Because it has to be real somewhere, you can be that for me and I can write the script for one of those perfect fantasys one we'll never have to snap out of CHORUS #2: When I dream of Blu, I think Mexico City and dug out cribs. Where there's a picture on the wall of a red chair, its something to hope for. -Or later in the desert where filterless smoke never leaves the crooked shaped windows. And her saint comes in black, white, and a bow tie tied like cloves. And here, her hair is orange with fantastic curls and melon, and rum is good for us, and she plays the piano, for her miscarried sister, who we carried through Mexico City to Casalblanca. -We named her Jezebel, for the fairies we believed in, and her stolen dress she never got to wear... and love, I didnt realize, fairies cant hold their liqour. CHORUS #3: Last morning I tried to teach myself to write about something surreal and me, but with Kerouac style, without the "woo-hee-haws" and italian dialect in parenthises. No love, Im not mocking you, you know your my universal jealousy. I thought,-I should write about anything I want, and hope the blue garden language will just come to me. I could write about something I know, like thoughtless makes serene, but what do I know? And Jack certainly isnt going to revise my thoughts for me. So I thought: I consider myself an insubordinate and my ex a true infidel, how do I show I'm angry? but what else should matter but instant thought. And when rain on tin or newborn clouds inspire, what should I do with it? Through this I feel so institanious, so worthless, I feel so ignorant to everything I hoped for. I hoped for a novel. And an ailment to tell something through. Relay my stories in a delerious manner. Make people wonder if my stories are true. As they feed me my soup, they'll ask me why I shaved my head and eyebrows, and I'll reply, "well love, I was only trying to prove a point."

alright then, paradise...

2006-09-22T05:40:00.000-07:00

I dreamt my life in terms of science~ last night i threw a cigerette into the black/blue and you caught it 25 miles away~ Im grinning like a maniac into hair and rain as you bring your arm back down and strike a match~ we're talking through seemingly occupied space.~ seemingly... right?~ wrong.~ this is one of those hard to percieve angles, where you are bigger and more dimentional then your surroundings.~ That perfectly deceptive angle, ~ I pose to one side, like so, ~and you do then same,- ~ when we do this, everything else is flexible. ~The stars will spin in circles and the trees will go flat. ~You could be in China and that cigerette would still make it to your mouth, ~because when you and I move, the earth stays right there. ~Gravity doesnt know we're meaning to let it win the race. ~We like it fast. ~We like sitting on that bench and having the world mold for us.

!VOLUME!

2006-09-21T23:02:00.000-07:00

1.) Isnt it strange? These people's addictions-they knaw their cuticles, til they're out of the heat- and into the fire-of flying hair, and sweat, and smoke, -and all other empowerments that are forbidden everywhere else. but here, where for three hours straight, I get hit with all my emotions,- all in one standing- while we're all jumping. Synchronized. UN-organized... 2.) And isnt it beautiful? Empty viens, lights and stoned eyes- glancing into everthing else but me: the one who actually stopped to think about it. Because to me, its a privilege: this high, where we dont have to be on anything- to remember this fire.-Because its all in our heads-and all around us-where we create our happiness- carrying in nothing but ourselves- I came for something I could call better than the last time- I swore it was the time of my life....-This pure, raw, volume---- 3.) Again, I convince myself Im happy- because Im living up to this energy-waiting-for my chance to satisfy myself-with bodies and 30 foot speakers- Just for a while- Until Im back to just talking about it- and planning my next fix.- 4.) ....Becoming what everyone else thinks of me- free- but honestly, Im owned by this- experiences: of cheap motel rooms, and inexpensive nights on the town- paying to love myself- and to be loved- So I'll sit... on the corner of the bed.- and maintain- because... its all there's left to do....

2006-09-21T22:47:00.000-07:00

This is my moment-when my long awaited epiphany finally completed itself- and I learned how to live life from an hour with a hippy who sold avon- life is life- and love is pure- whichever way it swings- thoughts can be meaningless-so I dont need to think anymore- secrets should remain just secrets- and I still remain less hopeful-and we should keep more nuetral------ trashing my moment-hoping for a quick lay-an overcolored skip in my benevolent life-to make it seem romantic again- before Im back to sanity- back to loving for the sake of living- loving something I hoped to come in a different form-I hoped to be ignorant again-hope to never want again-now Im left subjacent in my own uncertainty-

hmm yes.. the rest of that one thing... you know...

2006-09-12T03:46:00.000-07:00

I get crazy in love with the beats. The real maggie, the Cassidys, Ginsberg, and Jack. It brings back memories that arnt even really mine ... hmm... you people are so damned beautiful. and to think that your not! the brilliance of it! to have writen poetry in India for 2 years... 'til our summer.- to know all the foul language and exadurate each sylabol like a mad rapper thinking slowely about politics, to a beat, to be fed up with politics. to know everything about Buddism and lithium, fields, and not care to much for it.- to have a herb garden in your back yard,- to have the biggest variety of thought to yourself and thats all that matters.- -Because as fucked up as this world gets outside the deep leafed jungles, between us and Mexico City,- there's still beautiful burnt eyed gypsy child. theres still shoe gazers to be reminded of us when they finally look up. Theres still cool-red-clay villas waiting for us at the end of this chipped road. Clean clothes, rollies, and new culture are waiting. It's what we headed out for. but for you,- to appriciate the trip there, down to the sweat and mosqitoes, makes you the poet. and I the people reader, thinking- gazing at this cultures new birkenstocks... and I'm loving Gregory Corso like I knew the kid.. yelling your tribunes into microphones filled with smoke... and echoing through the joint is Visions of Cody and "...bop began with jazz..." I'm filled with that knot...

2006-09-12T03:04:00.000-07:00

Everything I dont want to be- common place. like you. a common place word. your a bitch. the only thing to appriciate... I cant give up on something that I've trusted for years when you put it on the line- and when you asked me... I was sick. or more told- like it's not right by you for me to be happy. What else do I need from you? I've sold my luxury up and down this mountain. and you've always been the highest price to pay. I dreamt the most beautiful poetry... now I forget to write it down- when I see you sell yourself, and tag your work priceless- as if everyone else sees it as godliness. your ideas are shot. and well... like I said, it makes me sick. your fabrications... how gorgeous you think you are, is all you have to tell. I guess I'm just not good enough- for your luxury. and Im the last person who has the right to say something. Im the last person you would let change you, seeing as how we're closest... you dont have to listen...? I tip toe around you everyday, and theres so much I dont tell you. Because your so easily set off. Because you think you know me... and you think I let you close enough to dictate my life. you think my loves care for you as much as you think its hip to know them. You know I want to care. Hell, everyone wants to care. and you think that gives you reason to be who you are. your simply not happy enough about life.. and thats a lot to say from me. I've always been down... and out... what the hell do you really think your here for?

2006-09-05T02:51:00.000-07:00

this summer was an eye closer, really, I couldnt stand to look at it. I've never been so pale. This summer, was where him and I made a promise, we decided to start clean. He promised none of all that and I promised to try to not be so crazy. and he kept telling me I should probably not second guess him; he had alot over my head. Even when he wasnt as clean as he said. Even when we broke the promise. I had so many plans and slept through all of them. I dont remember any sunshine. most of my summer was spent giving a shit about math, and avoiding friends for the sake of responsibility and sanity,- a catch-22. Short of a headache I didnt accomplish much of anything. I missed an entire summer and feel like I can never be sane again. I felt trapped and manipulated and hurt and weak and hungry and beaten and unloved, but I was to tired to think about how I could escape. I fell in and out of love with him three or more times. it made sense, i promise, but god, what kind of sense is that? So its almost fall and Im hoping maybe things wont seem quite so harsh. And hoping I can get something done... find my friendship tick... Im hoping to all that I dont sleep through it.

THIS SIDE OF PARADISE

2006-08-08T03:24:00.000-07:00

Dont forget the archives*

Shawn

2006-08-07T01:01:00.000-07:00

The root of all that unnesessary emtpiness.- You, darling, have bent me. I've looked back to you through a thick sheet of glass for all these years. I didnt want it to hurt like it did. Will you have as many wives as they say? I dont care to ask if you still think of me. I wont care. Its time to let it out. I've written in anger to you, and in love, about orange fingernails and lie coated cocks. Let me tell you the truth. I'm still sick about it. And I dont want to be anymore. So maybe, if you could just disappear... We could work something out. Because the curse is leaking out and I dont want to be you. I curse you, and your lying cock, and why would you want that under your belt? No pun intended. So its over, Im pushing your ghost out. I dont want your bad energy anymore, Im not going to ignore it anymore. Your dead.

No One

2006-08-02T05:15:00.000-07:00

What makes you think its okay- That your eyes are so closed- I've never said it twice out loud, but you know I think about it constantly. We have going on seven years under the belt. And now its back to break up in the wrong ways, with all the wrong words. A real royal f*ck around. I was there for you. You lost yourself and havent gotten back yet, but I've stayed. Let you lie your way into another crash. You got high with the greek shirted people, and I told you how to not feel so low again. I'm still here. Waiting for you to get over it, and pack back in the last five emotional years you missed. I'm still not mad. Just empty in my stomach. And I dont want to cry I just want to pout. Why would you say those things to me?

my spanish romance

2006-07-13T23:30:00.000-07:00

~I sang to you today ~ waiting for that look you give me ~ when I want to turn the camera to you ~ I have that I just saw a good movie feeling ~ where I want to call you darling and I ~ keep slipping into an Irish accent ~ and your looking pensive with pursed lips and I just want to kiss you like a spanish romance ~ the camera's on you darling ~ lets go some where its snowing and kiss in big coats ~ with drenched hair ~ its not to corny is it? ~ because even when the camera's not there it can be ~ perfect ~ even when I forget my shoes and borrow your feet ~ we can dance to no music like they do ~ perfect~

Ode to Angst

2006-07-11T08:13:00.000-07:00

running on burgers and boost ~ I havent seen real afternoon sunshine in weeks ~ my throat is yellow and angry ~ im still the same size ~ I miss my mom ~ My eyeliner is thinning,- ~ Im growing up... ~ over the eyes and through the skin ~ im not going to stop until im 16 again ~ What happened to black and white being angsty ~ and angsty being racey ~ God it was hot ~ I miss sleeping when I dream and writing through it ~ this is another stage I sapose ~ but its the lamest stage so far ~ damn ~ so I'm listening to distillers and night dreaming about ~ how "i used to play guitar like that" ~ sigh ~ so I'm trying again before its to late ~ over the eyes... ~ I'm almost 20 and I have the sudden urge to quit my job and ~ dye my hair ~ and smoke a cigar and drink my coffee black like i used to ~ but I buy coffee in a can now ~ my skin feels thinner than it used to ~ I can work with this, I can do this- I feel it ~ its still there~

RIGHT HERE

2006-05-25T20:59:00.000-07:00

Right here is where you raised me. Right here is where I changed. Where your words eat away at my mind. And the endless skies inspire me. Right here is where I hate you. Where I have nothing better to do then find ways to take me out of my mind, Make me like where I am, make me forget how you've hurt me, make me forget that I've forgotten who I am. Right here is where the world ends. Where every road you take will take you to the stars. And the skies are filled with crazy pinks and blues. Right here is where the sun is so cold. And everything is so grey. Where the rain cant save me anymore. Where the purple nights are so beautiful. And the sky is so round, I forget how alone I am. How trapped I feel, how much I've changed. How deep I've crawled inside myself. How I fall all over myself trying to find a way out. How the things that used to make me scream are gone, and how I miss them. I look at all my old pictures and remember what I used to have, and how happy I was to leave it. Now I'm crying because I miss it. And no matter how hard I care, things will never be the same. Right here is where I hate my life. Right here is where the poetry poisened my mind. I feel the words burning inside me. And when it comes out, and I see what I've done, it makes me love it here. It makes me hate myself because I'll always be here. Thinking about what my past could have been like, what my future might be like. And the only comfort I can find only makes it worse. Right here is so beautiful. I'd give anything to get away.

STILL HERE

2006-05-25T16:08:00.000-07:00

When the clouds ring themselves, throwing at us spears of water and forgiveness, to wash away all our sins. And all I see is moonlit fields and tree shadows. I'm not scared. I'm not hoping for anything. I'll always be here, and I will find you. Everything glows dark, shows me lost ambition, makes me wonder what I'm still doing here. I cant move. I wont let go if this moment. Even if it never gives me all the answers, when my life is flashing in front of me, weaving in and out, through the shadows, all the way around. And all I see is dark and hate; Hate for those who hate, hate for love, and everything that went wrong. For this moment, and all the things I see that I just cant place. Hate for nothing at all.

2006-05-25T15:47:00.000-07:00

On the floor, watching the flies with their disreputable dances, obsene thoughts of what it would be like for you if I was gone. The thought of you choking, convinced it was your fault, almost seems serene to me. Born a base-born fuck-up, held against for every tone of voice I spat in front of me. And still you ask me why I'm so stubborn. I've never been displine's bitch, making me contridict everything you say, to keep up the reputation you, without a doubt, imprinted onto me. No consilation prize for trying my hardest. and still I'm wondering why I never left when I had the chance. When what was left by him fed my curiousity, and what you gave me to ease the pain kept me in bed for days. I knew leaving my addictions was the price I'de have to pay for leaving you. I knew it was your fault. I couldnt do it. and now? wondering. wondering why Im still determined to prove something. it doesnt even have to be about you. or for you, it never was. there's no need for me to explain myself to you. everytime I tried, it proved to be malific. I gave you a nervous breakdown that night. You came home drunk, and told me to go fuck myself, I wasnt worth your time. Your discrimination brought me back to this point. and I screamed, "You created me!" And still your lectures roll off your tongue and through your teeth, almost like you've got nothing better to say. I quitely walked up to my room. Bumped up and split it open again. Like I wanted everyone to see just how far down you've broke me. like weakness was something to be proud of. I proved you right.

truce?

2006-05-25T14:49:00.000-07:00

You said: this is why I hate you No I won’t explain, and yes I could if I wanted to that’s reason enough. no wonder you’re losing everyone

I disagree, I said, You lost me first, I’m just trying to be happy, I know I’m off...

“You changed”

I know. That’s a good thing right? You haven’t changed since I met you. Tell me, what the fuck have you learned from all this?

“I’ve learned to agree to disagree” he replied

Fuck! No, I’m saying, darling, walk in my shoes for a day Relive my life; you were there for most of it Why disagree with me, why are you still here? And what’s your reason? Why haven’t you changed?

And your reply: I have reason I’m just not going to tell you, and yes, that still makes you wrong, you don’t deserve an explanation because I’m not man enough to admit it.

“But why, I’ve poured my heart out to you, I loved you, you tried to kill me, I deserve an explanation”

“You through the lamp at me!!!”

I disagree, I said, “I know you better that you know yourself, you asked for it, you like it rough, remember…”

“I know, but I’m wise, I speak 3 languages, more people love me that you, I can dance salsa, I can play guitar better than you, and I have a fake ID.”

And I reply: “I’m happy with here, and now, I’ve said it before, the dry and dull, laughter and music, learning from love, I hate you, I hate your resentment, yes I do like girls, remember? You liked that… I’m ok with not being better than you, steak and potatoes are fine every once in a while, I still eat off newspaper, I still eat my emotions, and cry in the closet, I’m still an alcoholic, I still want to live in a tree, I’m still a horrible dancer, I haven’t changed that much have I? The only thing that’s really changed is I’m not stupid enough to keep bending over backwards for something that will never change, I don’t love you anymore, I said I’m sorry, what more do you want from me?”

“Meow”

What the fuck is that sapose to mean?

"I still love you", he said , "I wont tell you why, because I don’t know, that’s reason enough."

2006-05-21T03:13:00.000-07:00

Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion		43%
Stability		56%
Orderliness		26%
Accommodation		83%
Interdependence		50%
Intellectual		56%
Mystical		83%
Artistic		90%
Religious		43%
Hedonism		63%
Materialism		30%
Narcissism		43%
Adventurousness		83%
Work ethic		36%
Self absorbed		30%
Conflict seeking		23%
Need to dominate		23%

Romantic		36%
Avoidant		56%
Anti-authority		70%
Wealth		16%
Dependency		36%
Change averse		36%
Cautiousness		70%
Individuality		76%
Sexuality		56%
Peter pan complex		63%
Physical security		63%
Physical Fitness		37%
Histrionic		30%
Paranoia		63%
Vanity		16%
Hypersensitivity		30%
Female cliche		23%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test personality tests by similarminds.com

a toast to indulgance

2006-03-09T13:01:00.000-08:00

A 21st century semi-bohemian.- I guess thats what I'd call myself. and what do I miss about money? - absolutly nothing. everything.- I miss what I could get with it. - dollar-twenty five coffee cakes and cinnimon sticks- 2 each. - with a cup of ignorance on the house- but the cream will be $6. - I just inadvertally accepted the fact that my indulgance was supporting the people who dont let the enlightened ones eat enough. - And I've been saying it for years. "Someday, I'll do something astounding" I'm indulging in simplicity. I'm empty when I do it, so why am I still here? - I've smoked to much.- I've drank and drugged myself to the verge of permanant damage.- I've been in love with the thought that someone I could never have would look at me the way they look at the size 4 blonde more times than I can count.- I've been hurt to much. - I like sex and beer and short skirts.- I like to dance. - Does indulgance make me ignorant? - I hate money, but I'll take anything free.- and what do I have to show for what I've learned?- compassion?- I eat bread and mustard for days before I spend money on caviar and wine. - Its not guilt. its that I've been there. - Its my way of making up for not being out there, fighting the good fight, - I'm still here.- complacant and bored, waiting for someone or something to strip me completely of my material attachments. So I can dive in head first, stripped down and ready for the fight of my life- ready for some damn commitment- i say bohieman because I spend my time on the couch, starving myself and talking crazy, starved, philosophy to everyone that'll sit down long enough to listen- I'd rather give my money to the sincere and homeless, - if they ask for it, they obviously need it more than I do. - and they talk crazy, starved philosophy with me for hours- I read to much. - and dont sing enough.- So heres to bohiemia, heres to knowledge. - and a toast to those who make movies for us.- theres not as much singing as one might think,- its harder then it looks.- I dont indulge like I used to...- I Think now... and I'm damn happy.-

When they were high, I was done

2006-01-28T16:33:00.000-08:00

I've created for you an illusion. so clear to me and sureal enough to make you cry. I've cleared it up for you, babe. Added a secret, to paint it romantic. I didnt bother to sign my name. How was it you said you could relate? you'll never understand this. You'll never comprehend my fucking meaning. this is MY story, my vanity, you'll never understand that, that day was the last day. I'm done, and only once since. ok maybe twice, and I've been looking for them every since. I gave up on the lifestyle, it wasnt giving me answers, went off to find them in a different group of smoke, or clouds, or where ever else they might be. Exhaled and bruised. He swore he'd give it up soon, she swore she'd never go home. I've got a head so full of worry, and nothing else, no smoke, no anger, no toast to freedom. How the fuck do i prove this to you? you can never relate to what I felt then, printed, labeled, permanately branded, the dirty brand. I offended something I worshiped with something I had to get out. So, now I'm left here, still looking, head down skin burning. Im writing the most important thoughts of my life. and YOU want rymes with no sense, you want pure, straight meaning. Im stuck...

Woke up in the middle of the night and wrote this 6 days before the hurricane hit. Michelle was in Florida & the dream was about water, creepy...

2006-01-22T14:36:00.000-08:00

I don’t want the feeling in my mouth any different then now. And im afraid of tall and dark. And somethings wrong with noah. And im dreaming strange dreams about michelle and all of it. Im scared of what I always forget when I wake up. And it feels like morning. 12:41 am. I like james here. And the taste in my mouth has never been so perfect. But im scared of something.

packing paradise in used boxes

2006-01-22T14:27:00.000-08:00

I realized today- While cataloging all my old shit- How powerful punctuation can make shit words sound- How loud each sentence sounded in my head as I read back the poetry that I had taken the time to punctuate- Opening a screen door I realized it isn’t everyone else’s fault- And I want to hate Alicia so damn bad- And I’m probably not crazy- Because I think I am- I’m thinking twice about my plans- While I’m tearing down and sorting through art I call beautiful- Probably because I made most of it and I’m to proud to title myself anything short of an artist- Uncovering shit walls I have to pay for later- And clean up myself- And there’s so many metaphors in that- That is something I’d like to put into real words- I’m thinking about how I’m not as brilliant as I thought I was- When my knowledge is in the art of the English language- And even though I can sing in Spanish and German- I cant put my words into any other language- Outside of English composition about all I can do is rhyme- I realized a long time ago I cant rhyme for shit anyway- And in so many ways my knowledge is only skin deep- If I translated everything I’ve already written it would be backwards- It wouldn’t make any sense- Because I’m only responsive to one language- And I make it shit anyways- So what makes me think it’ll be beautiful to anyone worldly? When literally translated my words are just a bunch of transition and curse words thrown together - and the nouns are left out because I spell strange for effect or the words only exist in my mind- I guess it’s alright for my temporary state of mind- But I want more- I want culture- I want to be heard but not completely understood- I want it to stay mysterious but still sound beautiful when read out loud in every romance language- Maybe even Japanese someday- But I’m to sparatic for a haiku that could possibly mean anything to anyone,- even me

ALICIA

2006-01-22T14:19:00.000-08:00

Pulling back the lines and layers. Of everyone else’s insecurities. I’ve been waiting to tell you this… About all our awkwardness. A philosophy worth remembering. It makes me sick to not think when I’m alone. I’m telling you… So now I’m talking to myself. An alternate ego. Or more imitation ego. Maybe. About something I forgot to remember. Lying in bed. Thinking about everyone but me who needs fixed. Even if its just to fix me. Im only talking to myself. You laying there. Thinking back to me and through me. Im stuck on whats around us. More outside than in. Then I think, at least I made a note of that. But its not what I need. -Make some ignorance. maybe a stiff drink and some clippers. A blue pen and a post it note. To remind myself. At least, I made a note of that…

4am, one of my poor, un-motivated nights

2005-12-28T07:25:00.000-08:00

I've been up since 3am and just took in the humor of this repeated ritual I have around this time about 4-5 times a week and thought I would share.--- I wake around 3am, usually because I'm stressing out about bills, the dirty apartment, getting a job,school, or if James' is getting enough protein. Or I wake up feeling sick from stressing out about the same stuff the night before or I had a dream about how I should rearrange my furniture. I lay in bed for a while thinking I need more shelves... get out of bed at about 4am, sit on the toilet for a while, reading or just thinkin', until one of my cats brings me another mouse, and I wish it wasnt dead because its kinda cute and I want to keep it as a pet. I come out into the kitchen/dining room/living room that I cleaned the day before but somehow is trashed again (my apartment looks like a crack head is living in it). I'm stepping past pans on the floor I have yet to wash(they're on my floor because I have approximately 1 square foot of counter space), to get to my fridge, I look over the contents, all condiments, a block of cheese, an onion, and alot of juice, and decide I'm not hungry anyway. I'll just smoke a smoke and warm up some coffee. I check my email, all junk mail but I read it anyway, play some solitaire then cut out some coupons in the 'ShopWise' I got in the mail, I unconsciously check the mail 3 times a day, even on Sundays... I like mail. I get on ebay or overstock and look at all the things I want to buy but dont have the money or room for... write some bad poety, by this time its light outside, so i take a nap, have myself another day, then repeat. I feel like one of those middle aged bald, fat guys with bi-focals who works as a temp and wears bad shirts and rides his bycicle to work, complete with lime green helmet and goggles. But honestly I love it, its an experience and at least I have something to frickin' write about...

To some unmentionable people I know:

2005-12-13T11:41:00.000-08:00

SECLUDED VEINS- Like the thousands of times I convinced myself I was nothing, and you are less than nothing. Shadows of my own wandering clear away as soon as I turn my head. It was to quick to remember anyway. I'm walking away thinking I'm still to scared to move. and everything you left me... your so dead to me. I've cried myself sober to many times, had myself convinced of some majestic tragedy, while you were still breathing in the next room. Maybe all i was is to escape. with a reason to escape, and maybe there is no reason but your reason, and all the reasons you've proved me wrong. tearing away all my excuses... my hate. fuck the reason. I've got all the contentment I can handle. and still I find myself hands down, empty to my throat, like all the ways *sin* was,- with dope under his nails and through his spine. He told me it was different then, and it just got to damn hard, that was a year ago... he's so weak now. and when I saw him last October, eyes glazed, pockets empty,- he wanted me to know everything was alright. and he wasnt in love with you anymore. He lit my ciggerette and told me to steer clear of the lifestyle. explaining in detail all the ways it wasnt worth his time. I never told him I was already caught up in it. I knew I wanted the same thing he did, but with my own perspective. I had my own damn reasons. I loved him with everything I had. You told me he was more vain then I could ever be, I didnt know what the fuck you were talking about.

2005-12-11T13:49:00.000-08:00

Z-words, like zen, jazz, makes hip with a hip language.She says she can't even remember her own face... and not until then will she let it get to her, because she's damn happy with it.

2005-12-11T11:10:00.000-08:00

reading entertainment for hours

to a girl:

2005-12-11T00:32:00.000-08:00

How is it you balance your life out so perfectly? I see you stand on one heel, holding your lungs tightly. Your thumb holds your lip and your so fragil there, captured by the forms that facinate you. The paintings hold you in, and keep you for a moment all in one place, where your sadness doesnt have to hold you down. And thinkings just not thinking when its all imagined.

2005-12-11T00:25:00.000-08:00

We sing 'its alright'. With our pressing ideals,- Telling: this... is art. If only in our minds. And what is it that makes the definition. but from one beginning thought, from everyone at once, as we snap into creation, with something you dont even really understand. "but if we read it just right..." So in turn you create a comeback, one that I could call opressive, to whom ever it is that your trying to fool. With such a good use of the word. When your art is built for the sake of something to show. But you cant fool me love, you see, because I've got that realist spek of an eye, and enough of an abstract visionary vibe.- I've eloped mismatched colors- beyond all form- or even recognition.- But what's to be recognized. If it only matters that its important to me... JUSTIFICATION: One.) It took no real learning. Two.) At least I dont care to show it off. Three.) In conclusion, I'd like to slap on you the 'Only To Impress' label. So sit down love. Shut your mouth and open your logic. Let me show you some real inovation. Let me show you how it starts.----------

Short: from a while back, post Shawn era I think

2005-12-11T00:13:00.000-08:00

So I was ignorant. Because sometimes its to much to handle, and sometimes it better to cry a million times for less reason then cry for something I should have stayed away from. I gave up horrible habits and peeked out of my hole, for something that might satisfy me. Something I wanted more than a hit, something where I wouldnt have to listen to anyone. And it was okay to tell everyone this secret, because I was happy in it, thats all they wanted. and I never said I wasnt excited about life, I was just impatient for death.

I want to live in Canada

2005-12-10T23:57:00.000-08:00

Lately its wrong. Our generations lameness, our nameless generation, with our misused, mis-interperated habits. and more tits than faces. No name faces anyways. because no one really gives a fuck anymore. That we're trashy, and so damn prowd of our military men, even boys... Fighting another war we're not going to learn a damn thing from. We're losers. Lesbians and homophobs, we can never make up our minds. The times that've wasted, and the thoughts that were never bothered to interperate. Shit for brains. raising our kids on television and every type of porn for our bi-mind's eye. Damn.

going home:

2005-12-10T23:56:00.000-08:00

It's strange to grab the air. highway going about seventy. listening to music I could write a screen play to. or maybe if I already had a movie I'd add that to it. A western maybe, or something about the downsides of meth.

dreamin'

2005-12-10T23:28:00.000-08:00

I Dreamt I was in a box and Amber need help. Because the waves were coming in- and I dont even miss him, but those days are still obviously so vivid in my mind. Hell, I'm remembering dreams. Im happy now I sapose. dreaming again dreams I still dont understand, but i know what I'm thinking.

another note

2005-12-10T23:24:00.000-08:00

"Can we talk?" she said, Knowing I'm always ready to be a sincere listener and give bad advice she wouldn't have to listen to. "I have something to say about everything." So I listened for a while. and processed her exaduarations the way i saw fit- tried to convince myself it was as true as she believed in her mind.

Dreamt about neil last night...

2005-12-10T23:15:00.000-08:00

Cole's thoughts, and strange poem thoughts ...to know all the foul language and exadurate each syllable like a mad rapper thinking slowly about politics, to a beat, to be fed up with politics. to know everything about Buddhism and lithium fields and not care to much for it. As fucked up as this world gets outside the deep leafed jungles... Between us and Mexico City... There's still beautiful burnt eyed gypsy child. There's still shoe gazers to be reminded of us when they finally look up. There's still cool red clayed villas waiting for us at the end of this chipped road. Clean clothes, rollies, and new culture are waiting. its what we headed out for. but to appreciate the trip there... down to the sweat and mosquitoes. makes you the poet and I'm stuck gazing at this culture's new birkenstocks.

a footnote:

2005-11-14T12:14:00.000-08:00

$10 and I'm here. with dead faced kids the smell of burnt rubber and liqour looking for some real kicks after fake punches looking for chicks for parties and halloween tweeks it was a drag. so i went back to chips and Daria back past signs telling me to vote for something Rossi and humty dumpty was pushed with no liqour in me, but its cool I'll just sleep again now