Birthday

Thinking about everything that may or may not be coming your way.  Thinking about everything you have left behind.  Everything you pretend to leave behind.  Everything, born new, you try to make and force people to think you've grown beyond.  You haven't. ?Yoiu are ertarded,-=  /You are retarded.  You have grown and changed, but what you are is still thoroughly flawed.  You did not pass "go."   You fought for it.  Triumphed even.  You did not pass inspection.  I am pissed and in love.
I do not invoke accents.  It bleecx.  It bleeds.  Remind a self that I am just like you.  Horatio!  /
I feel horribly deaf.  Root for.  Poesis.  Root for Poe. Sunrise is a /default.  One eye.  Bumper, crumple, zone5.





///The Postal Service - "We Will Become Silhouettes (remastered)"

Maybe I'm Missing Something

Enough with the ridiculous headlights, please.  Pretty please?  Can someone please step in as a voice of reason and say something?  Anything?  Can we appeal to logic?  How about safety?  How about simple decency?  The idea that hurting other people because "whatever, they can go to hell" is a not good thing.

Yes, we get it.  They're very pretty when you're taking pictures of them, or sketching them in a design lab, or walking around them in your garage or someone else's garage or at a car show.  Sparkly, shiny, shifting through the spectrum of visible light subtly or standing bold and stark and sudden, so alert and commanding or brilliant, smoldering, and devilish, double daring you to put the key in or press the engine on button.  We understand that aspect.  That bending and twisting and running of the finger's tips along that silk membrane between machine and animal, animal and man, man and near sentient machine.  We understand and we are not asking to tamper with that experience or dull it or snatch it away from you, person driving the car with the tremendously intricate, unreasonably high powered headlights.

Remember when you could replace a headlight bulb yourself for $15?  I still can.  Is my car less attractive because it runs $15 headlamps?  I don't care.  I don't love my automobile any less because it doesn't have black bedded lenses that look like a unicorn sneezed a rainbow around the fringes of the beams.

Can we stop with the ultra bright, surface of the sun, "just like driving at noon", lamps?  I'm sure you probably need to see six football fields ahead of you when you are blazing down the straightaway portions of LeMans at 220 miles per hour never, can we tone it down a little bit when the longest straight portion of highway in your city is maybe half a mile and the safest speed you can average on it without killing yourself or someone else in your suv is a brisk 80.  Not to mention, inside the highway ringing that city, with stoplights, you're probably crushing it a blistering 30 miles per hour.  Stop it already.

Every time that chassis hits a bump or a pothole or manhole cover or gentle dip in the road, the angle of that ultra bright, kaleidoscope changes for a split second and my rear view mirror turns into a camera's flash two feet away from my face.  It's so pretty.  It's so pretty.  What could the reason possibly be?  Is it just rich people wanting people to know that their car, their status symbol, is out on the road and people had better take notice.  It's not the standard model either.  The standard model has the LEDs with the white lighthouse grade bulbs.  It's the S model so the white lighthouse grade bulbs have been replaced with omni directional plasma discharge tubes powered by nuclear cold fusion.  Everyone will know what I drive is better than what they drive because they'll see my headlight's coming from beyond the curvature of the Earth.

Jesus, get over yourself.  No one cares.  What they will know is that whoever is driving the car behind them deserves to have their headlights caved in with a hatchet for every other motorists sake.  I'm not against getting creative or embracing the art of lighting, crystals, lenses, and advancing the technology.  I am against taking it way too far.  All of the light is practically false security too.  It only illuminates, but so far, and if you're a bad driver guess what?  You're still going to screw up.  You'll have an extra 500 feet though to make the same dumb decision.

Things are seriously getting out of hand out there.

Pushed

All I wanted was a front row seat in what feels like a war and looks nothing like it.  I keep reciting the procedure and double and triple checking equipment, and in the mean seconds ticking by the pilot is sweating marbles trying to keep our helicopter away from flak and small arms fire and the occasional rocket, circling where I need to land once I jump off of the side.  I'm sweating too fearful of what happens after I step out into thin air, but I know what happens.  There's nothing to be afraid of.

Walking into my apartment after getting groceries the long fingered man with the reading glasses glances up and turns around and taps the only skin on his arm not flayed away where a watch was.  Time is of the essence.  I know.  There is not much time to waste.  I know, I know, I know.  Where are you going?  Out, don't follow me.  You forgot your wallet.  Thank you.

I suppose, a sort of writer's block for persons who don't get writer's block?

Consider this your gentle, two palmed, straight armed shove.  You know what has to be done.  Pull the trigger.

I worry sometimes that it won't make sense.  I worry now if it's not good.  If the entire pursuit has been a waste.  Why poetry?  What is locking up inside you?  It's nothing.  Absolutely nothing and you know it.  Don't be afraid, you've just had your eyes closed for a few months.  Listening to the air and the land and space and people eating each other alive and giving birth and dying and sleeping and breathing and talking and talking and it's not so bad if you'd only open your eyes standing on the ledge of the gunship.  Make sense out of chaos.  Or chaos out of chaos.  Make sense of it later.  Every thought lost to time is one less beacon, one less point of reference, one less story, one less epic, one less chapter, one less relationship you could have brought into this world from your travels.  One less love.  Do it for you.  Do it because you can love you and that's where it all starts.  Come clapping toward the bright pink smoke flare while the shells fly.  I'll be back to pick you up sooner than you have time to think to ask "where did you go?"




///Sylvan Esso - "Hey Mami"    higher resolution

A Quick Thought on Authenticity and (ffs) Go Protocol

Knowing what you are and what you're not is where it begins, that's the baby step.  There's nothing wrong with being a baby.  Complaining let's you know, if you've ears for it, that you are not necessarily happy with the way things are or how they're going.  Everyone's a baby.  At some point.  Everyone complains.

The option is to take the turn or drive the motivation straight over the edge and hope you land somewhere nice.  Hope you land in something like a pillow factory or a bin of sand, or just anything more forgiving than concrete.  Take the turn.  Complain like a baby and then adjust.  You can take your authenticity to the grave with you or you can exist within it.  Sounds pretty simple.  It's a bit more complicated, unfortunately.  Sometimes you just have to realize that you are striped and a tiger and sometimes imaginary in a pack of lions.  Doesn't mean you have to be at war with the lions.  You're both after the same things.  There's nothing wrong with that.  You've honed your way and they've honed theirs and you're on the same field now so you have to learn how to play together effectively that you not step on one another's paws and sink teeth too close together on the same kill.

It's "go protocol."  It's trigger pull.  It's losing my train of thought and getting heckling from the rest of the committee and continuing to ball because YOURE NOT THE BOSS OF ME YOU @#$%S.

Fight through the noise.  Embrace the sound.  Love who you want to.  It does not matter if they love you back.  You have the right to love whomever and whatever you choose to, whomever and whatever you can't refuse to.  If they cannot respect that, it's their loss.  In a world lessed for loves lost, why waste it?  Let it fly.  Untenable as it may be, let it fly.  Let it fly!  Allow it to cross the distance that must be enforced for whatever reasons are reasonable.  Include a few that are not.

Remain authentic.  Stick to the protocol.  You have not lived as long as you have by ignoring protocol.  When the Go sign says go,  go!  Think twice, for sure.  "Fo Sho!" does not mean for show.  I can put on a fantastic show when I want to.  I can put on a show for the fucking ages.  Fo sho means for sure and it's pretty much a miniature pact.  A handshake and a signature of gumption.  With no risk comes no reward and you know what comes without whisk?  I do.  I'll give you another second to guess.  Time's up.  Without whisk you get a big old cup of pineapple pulp and undissolved sugar at the bottom of your pitcher of pineapple tea.  Gross.  Also, really hard to drink.

Obey Go Protocol.  Stay authentic.  Bow to be courteous, not to fit better.  If you win the single combat and fit well, you'll hate them later because they will know what you did.  They will talk about the event, if not active, in passing.  You will know too.

The combination is not friendly.  They are not looking for maps the same way you do.  The same way you are.  Do not expect assistance when you go.  Do not expect support.  Do not armor for resistance either.  You were invited for a reason.  You were on their wing for a reason.  That reason may not be for back up should combat come down.  That reason may not be for mounting an assault that day.  That reason may not be for humor or for "to hell with them"s.  You may never know what that reason's reasoning inside their head was, but there was a reason.

So go.  Go!  Stay authentic.  There was something asked of you.  Think about what you've asked of them in return by answering the howl.  The details will work themselves out, if they do.  The details will work themselves out, if they don't pull your card again.  Through the noise, through the fire, through the poise, through the ire.  For once,

allow yourself to see it their way and do not Chameleon.  Do not lock up.  For @#$%s sake, remain authentic.  Uncertainty is a bitch, be certain of this.




///Girl Talk - (Ask About Me)      chapter one...  still writing the jacket

remember, kids... 11/24/05

Subject : remember kids... always turn off the lights

Posted Date: : Nov 24, 2005 8:48 PM

yesterday i came within a hairs breadth of killing myself by christmas lights.

i made a very nice ball of christmas lights and hung them for romantic effect over the center of my room. the set up was a little ghetto. I used a wire from my collapsable hamper to make a nicely sprung spherical shape then wrapped the lights around the wire and then wrapped the wire in a corse clothe sheet often used to cover hospital beds, then draped the whole ball of nonsense from the actual light bulbs in the fixture at the center of my cieling.

genius, no? no.

it wasnt bright enough in the room so i turned on the actual light fixture that came with the place. I left and came back to my building 20 minutes later and as soon as I got out of the staircase on my floor it smelled something like someone left a space heater on all day. hot metal. I walk around the corner and come into my room and see that the smell is in here too.

A few hours later im poking around my room because im bored and i see that a piece of the christmas lights leading from the central ball is out. I look closer and see that the entire ring where the ball is tied up to the light fixture is kind of brown.

I untied the ball from the light fixture and on the inside it is charred black. All of the wires have melted and are crossing eachother and shorting eachother out. The paint was beginning to peel and cinder. Had I just gone to bed My cieling probably would have caught fire while I was sleeping... or if i'd stayed out any longer my building couldve burned down.

now i havent had any epiphanies because of this and i will continue to stay out late and do irrational fun things... ill just make sure i turn off the lights before i go. remember kids... before you do anything, be it bang a woman as large as your bed, masterbate to thoughts of your neighbor while at your window, have a naked dance off with your invisible friend, or leave your room because you just ripped ass and it smells like someone died... always always always turn off the lights first!