Birthday Party

There's no answer for permanently fractured hearts.  Caught between the teeth of time and facts and wanting more than anything to be able to wish her a happy birthday without drumming up history.  More than wishing her a happy birthday, I want to be absolutely certain I don't hurt her.  To do that, I cannot offer a basic, basic, hallelujah.  Learning we would not be the same was one of the most terrifying, absolute, and violent days of my life.  I was already crying inside, taken every avenue to try to keep pace with her happiness and success.

Darker and darker and darker and darker.  The craziest part was our sense of adventure and curiosity for the world and cinema and oddball jokes and clowning and learning and reading and people watching were in line.

thinking backward, the love never dies.  Part of me shouts to the starlight "HAPPYBIRTHDAY".  I hope it matters.

I have nothing to offer her that will accelerate.   The answer to the question of future is blank.  I love you.  Time is an illusion.  Just gift me time I think.  Time is real.  Poor man, rich man, whatchu been in at.  What do you care about?

I put my body on the line and took risks.

What do you care about!!!

I can't have children, okay?  I can, but I'm far too warped to raise them.   Okay!?  I'm debt slagged as fuck, I can't raise kids, I don't know what a good chair is, I don't know how to do proper, I can cook and don't know what good food should cost, I don't have marketable skills, I hate customer service, and I have a useless degree and on top of that I still don't have the paper that confirms what I have actually learned.  Okay?  God is a lie, I'm antisocial, fucked in the head, and I would love to be.  I'm a social butterfly and an addict and a hermit.  I can't be trusted with a gun, the only family I recognize are my immediate siblings, I fucking hate people and the best world is a world where every city is glassed.  I'm an almost always nude and I love the outdoors and when we're at home, why are you wearing clothes?  It's weird!  Why can't I touch you?  Yes, it's your meat, I'm terrible with respecting boundaries once you're in everything should be open for all.  I'm not self conscious but I am conscientious.  That's the tip of it.  None of that answers what I asked.

What do I care about?  Fitting myself into life as invisibly as possible.  Caring about us goes about as far as: did you kill yourself today (y/n), was it a good day (y/n), can you engage with the world tomorrow (y/n), have you slept and eaten (y/n), did you hurt anyone (y/n)?  From those basics we can get more complex, but that's essentially it.  A very (I hate the word) easy checklist.

I laugh because who is supposed to live with that?

There's no answer for fractured hearts.

I wish there was.  Try to keep the shards in a box away from where they may be knocked over or caught up in the soles of feet and heels of hands and fingers or get into food.

The easy signs of trouble were violent in their simplicity.

We'll see.

I've told myself the ache will fade  Whispers along bedtime stories and therapy.  Imagine the... it would have continued for years afterward.  Pulling apart, love cannot solve base problems no matter how big or small and thorough a heart is.

What I hope most of all is that the first attraction wasn't a try to see how the other side of the tracks live. I hope most of all that she didn't think of me as ...

She gave a damn, and I will burn my circuits and song my circus.  It hurts.  I don't mind the reminder, knowing what it feels like to fall in love.  Knowing that falling in love is the sudden stop that will crush you.

Believe an end is just a beginning.

Believe love is real.

Believe that someone else saw something in you that you couldn't see yourself and the tides of fortune overwhelmed what could have been.

I Love You.




///Lemon Jelly - (Nice Weather For Ducks)

Knowing Where You Have No Business and That You Are Expected On Occassion

You don't have to front load everything you say.  You don't have to translate at the end either.  You may be coming across better than you believe.

One of the most hilarious things was the whole "they took our jobs" rhetoric at the last election and the come back that they're doing jobs we do not want to do.  The funny part was my challenge.  It's a matter of geographics and debt.  I took the challenge knowing that.  Just to see.  Because they were taking our jobs here too, right?  What I got back was paperwork.  It's a little bit a lot of bit hilarious.  If you cannot laugh at that, you have no soul.  I still get email updates on it, but I am passed caring.  Yes.  Passed.  English, the most, hands down, complicated language.

My relationship with America?  It's complicated.  And I am dating myself.  And I am dating myself too.  We wreck up sometimes.  Slang for fight, no?  Yes.  I do not agree with everything we do.  I do not.  Sometimes I am on damage patrol.  Some times I am on altitude control.  Sometimes I am just sometimes and I am, having learned, not apologetic because people do get tired of sorrys and start to ask "why the bleep do you not just do it better?"

I will not give you the run around.  I'm just American.  I'm a little gangster circa 1925 and a little modern circa "what's the date today" and a little 90's grunge and a little 80's synth, a little bit of a late 90's "get money" and a little 70's rhythm and blues, a little bit of #$%^'n disco and a little bit of late 80's space rock, a little bit of 1960 fuck you and a little bit of 1950 be easy and every one is working for something greater because no one actually wants to be here, and a little bit of drum and bass tongued in with a little bit of pop talked down through the ages and distilled and reanimated.  I'm just American and I will make no excuses.

And I will fight you.  And then discuss.  And then fight you harder because I only wanted a breather and we may as well butcher language in the mean times.  They only get meaner.

I wish I could get along with people like me.  I cannot.  I am not going to stop trying.  It is a little bit of playing with where you know you have no business being.  And you know it.  You do not understand why you are excluded.  There are the times you are expected though and you do not show up.  To reverse the two would be gold out of lead.  Less cameos.  More booked seats?  I have no idea.  What I do know is this: if they ask you if you can make it, you had better go.




///Pulp - "Like A Friend"

collected thoughts

ah, ive done it. collected it into a saucer and sipped at it and dissected the taste and synthesized it again into something even more it than it was.

i know why i dont like them. well not even that i dont like them, but why i must refuse to acknowledge them as connected to me in any positive way. ready?

there is no amount of support, no level of compliment, no amount of money, no measurable magnitude of niceness, no increment of politeness, there is nothing any of them can do as long as i am alive that will ever erase what has been done. and because i live with it incorporated into various parts of my heart, soul, mind, and person (as things heal and scar like an arm you can no longer fully extend because of torn cartilage decades ago) there is literally no forgetting. not to say my life is equally endangered as someone with a life threatening physical ailment, but mentally and emotionally its like a virus or cancer, the elimination of which could only be achieved by destroying vital and healthy tissues. and thats why it upsets me. thats why i cant seem to go a month or sometimes a week without having to exert massive energy to hold myself together.

i look forward to old age, when things inside my head start to collapse and wings of the mental archive are buried in the rubble of time. chemicals are like bad white out at best and a blinded surgeon with a two inch scalpel at worst and they only reach but so far. time's reach is unlimited. time swallows everything. i hope time cures me before im in my grave so i can enjoy 100% of the wonder of being alive.

///yoko kanno - "fish ~ silent cruise" such a sweet beginning. beautiful really. beautiful in the way a storm gathers itself before a warm front so slowly for its scale, reaching up and up into the rafters, before sweeping down onto hot concrete and starved fields. beautiful i guess as a blizzard that forgets itself from time to time. i dont know what my dad wanted to achieve, but he has successfully created a person who hates him with every fiber left at his command. a person who may kill him someday. its a beautiful song.

bronchitis, herbs, and stories 02/27/07

Subject : bronchitis, herbs, and stories
Posted Date: : Feb 27, 2007 11:56 AM

ive decided im going to face my fears and watch brazil. the last time i saw this movie i was really young. it was back when mtv still had a space man logo as their chief advertising gimmick and nickelodeon still had a song to sing a long to. Rocko's modern life was still really popular and ren and stimpy was not all but forgotten by everyone except the casual stoner. The last time i saw this movie was like the first time i saw kafka... fucking frightening. I just remember a guy in a porcelain baby mask getting shot in the back of the head by some tall, dark, and blonde woman and his brains firing out through his forehead onto the camera. and i also vaguely remember another scene where there were two men in air tight suits that were filled with feces through tubes until they exploded. obviously not the best material for children.



which reminds me... i need to watch time bandits again sometime cuz that movie was really good even though it was unbelievably long and hard to follow for my 13 year old brain.

Anyway... in other news. I'm writing a parody of the emo dissillusionment black tragedy. I call it black tragedy because it is invariably laced with black comedy, despite its tragic content. Movies like the virgin suicides and american beauty (among others) really tick me off sometimes because they can get to be formulaic. So I realized that the problem isnt the formula, the problem is me. I don't like the formula, but a lot of other people love it... thus i will write a subtle parody, using the formula, to win acclaim. That way I and the other people, who hate that formulaic, unresolved ending, emotional crap, will have something to laugh to ourselves about, while the less narratively inclined readers will have something to say "oh, what a profound commentary on the humanity of adolescents and maturity impaired adults that was." a win-win and win situation.

also... having successfully gotten over bronchitis... well actually i should say having successfully begun to get over bronchitis i am considering alternatives to the occassional cigarette and i think i've found something interesting... herbs. not like pot herbs or potted herbs but like flower herbs that are smokable. they dont produce nicotine or tar when smoked and can be quite fragrant... which makes me wonder what the downside is. im pretty sure its bronchitis if smoked habitually... but if that's it then i simply wonder why people don't smoke more herbs all the time? it seems like fun. you even get a complimentary pipe with your first purchase. how bout them apples. so i think im gonna try it. im not looking for a marijuana high or anything close. I just want to see if its an enjoyable past time while I do other things like... blog... or ... read ... or something. we shall see.

///orb - "secrets" 'as we look at the weather map we see a forecast with sub-zero temperatures with tomorrows temperatures a continued mild- continued mild?' spring is coming. I can already feel it in the air. This is my favorite time of year... when it can still snow hard as all hell the first half of the week and then be light jacket and t-shirt weather for the other half. beauty.