Archive for February, 2011|Monthly archive page

in a grove of trees that know their tree of the knowledge of good and evil, i know nothing.

In Uncategorized on 02/27/2011 at 3:39 AM

the story:

i forgot that i had to go put some mo money in the parking thing, but it was 2 am and i was getting up at 9 am and it was raining outside. it was one of those times when you use “fuck” in as many ways as possible under your breath and look like a crazy person riding in your pajama pants and big baggy shirt biking in the rain while everyone else is being normal and throwing up alcohol into shitty streets.

i brought music, and it made me emotional. yessss. but before that.

right as i exit my dorm room. my phone vibrated: message view -> “Do you believe that we got here by chance?”

eventually it prompted this response:

“John Donne himself could not resist the terror of hell so how do you expect my answer to be a constant yes or a constant no? The truth is every argument You’ve ever nodded in agreement with or wagged a finger against has been the mere ejaculation of another person seeking the truth and utterly convinced for some reason other than the fact that it is so plain and as constant as the laws of gravity.”


john donne went from sexy cavalier poet to staunch christian priest. in both sitiatians, he was a studded jenius. moral of the story is that his morals were more like a story, with an exposition, tension, a climax and a falling action. i’d say that falling action was when the amount of action he was getting, was falling. so no more climaxes or friction or even exposition. but not only that, he was scared shitless of death. i think he had constipation issues as well.

so if this man who spout carpe diem via brilliant lyric to many a lady folk and spat at god made a good ol u-turn and started to spout fire in his brimstone sermons spatting all over his congregations, then how can you expect me to be so certain?

i can’t be certain.

your beliefs are not discoveries of truth, they are pieces of the world tied together in a way.

yes, that statement had a major boner kill at the end, because well, it isn’t “in such a way that,” or whatever. it’s just that simple. they tied it together in such a way.

[written on the back of a piece of paper in my car]

“is it any surprise that you feel so overwhelmed?

at 8222: “that’s just the way things are”

[btw the girl that said that, is this girl]

i want to touch myself

[mmm not a good idea to start of a blog logging thoughts of myself and death with a boner. but oh well, i’ll work with it. by myself. teehee. back to this piece of paper]

it occured to me at once that love could be a great illusion, it gets everything it asks for.

“I love you”

don’t say that much.

Officer, why am i drunk you ask? i swear to god i’m not god, but i’m drunk off of god. b/c i’m in college. that’s why i’m drunk.

duh, we just drink life.

at 1:29 she asked if i think it’s all cuz chance. ohLL, you’re name is a poem and you’re a poem, burning luscious.

and the taxi driver drives taxing in everything he sees, reacting. but we still watch and divine meaning. the morals are hard to find, & occur when in the study muddled muddy, life chirping angrily outside. fuck.”

whuht uh pank. taxi driver, this film is a cornerstone in my mind. lolita too.

expl of plot so you’ll never have to see it:

robert de niro meets this prostitute and protects her (not the only romantic interest)

great scene when she is trying to blow him and he gets pissed off because he’s trying to help her. he is trying to upturn society that he hates. especially after it turned sour with that hot politico lady he met earlier.

so he decides to kill the pimp. he makes this device to slide the gun into his hand easily from his coat. he shoots up some of the people in the pimp house, get shot himself. and the film ends, you’re unsure what’s going on. all you know is that you just saw some fucking ridick shit. martin scorsese shits on your dick and you just take it, because it’s fuckin beautiful.

MORAL AMBIGUITY. get it thru you’re heads, it’s not saying that everything is relative or that everything is here by chance or that there is no god. it is confusion and absurdity.

Lolita was saying the same thing in the end of her film by Kubrick when she said “That’s just the way things are”

the movie seems like it sucks, but you must think hard to understand why it’s amazing.

in that note, i also referenced Copeland’s song “Eat, Sleep, Repeat” off of the album “Eat, Sleep, Repeat”

I’d just like to explain that song as well:

Verse 1: describes how if Love were not a truth, then this world would be terrible. every brilliant man is dumb.

Chorus: of course you feel pain without this love, then he asks, is it worth it? but that part is kinda up for grabs. i can’t really get the chorus.

Verse 2: yet love is this everlasting, real existence that defines human life.

so is life just “eat, sleep, repeat”? or is love real?

i have been writing a lot poetry in spite of myself. and i think the point of it all is, that i do not know what i am going to do with my life. and i have been thinking that i have to do something certain with my life. but i don’t mind serving as an example that this is all a little ridiculous, by being a little ridiculous.

no one ever had an original thought because they were all just trying to think of an original thought for the sake of having a thought other than that other thought. but i can’t help it.

like charlie sheen, but i’ll take his advice and drink chocolate milk.

charlie sheer is a sheen genius. yes that was intentional.

seriously i agree with this photo. he shows you all that you are evil sinners. even though he makes you think you are a good person. his quotes are ridiculous, he’s fucked up.

but you still pay attention to it. you know it’s there. and you have something to say about it. just because the tv, the magazine, said so. just because he’s famous.

that’s why i gotta be famous. to stop all this bullshit. pull a charlie sheen but without all the crack whores.

my asshole hurts from shitting all this writing so outright, out right here, out in the wrong way. it’s not okay when you inspire yourself. but whatever… i just need that dream team of mutherfockers.

this is the future bitch: it’s called content. whoever creates content the best is king. it’s not just marketing, or technique, or originality, or intelligence, or ability, or technology, or connections, or style, or sex.

it’s all of that and more. you can go ahead and settle down, i don’t mind. i’ll probably fail and settle down. but this is war my friends. you know that thing that they call free time? that is an opportunity to be a human being and not be a robot taking a break from routine.

i have no choice, ima have to try and go for it. i have been taking advice from a lot of older people. they are all fed up with their mortgages and big mexican womens (BMW) and their large mexican cleaning ladies.

aren’t you fed up with all this anxiety? don’t you tell that little brat to be grateful for their youth?

lets do it again. and discover life,

with it’s colorful surprises:


disregarding the regard for that guard, i wonder if i’ll ever re-guard against that disregard.

In Uncategorized on 02/24/2011 at 12:27 AM

the other night while wondering why i wasn’t asleep. i got to thinkin that we worship music without understanding the music itself and so only enjoy it for ourselves only as it comes out of our stereo. we only have the direct output and our own experiences so if we stick only to that music then we are worshipping ourselves and disregarding the person we are worshipping.

it’s like ceremony without mythology. but the mythology gives the ceremony meaning.

ie elvis would not be as good as lady gaga if you had no knowledge of how technology and time affects sound.

but i still worship the musak.

anthony green is freakin amazing. his lyrics are confusing though.

i found my choice to consume alcohol to be an act of humilty. i disregarded my control, and yet the whole time i tried to maintain control. why dont i just give in? have a drink and shake some hands. bam. did that.

i felt bestial, but i saw how it acted as a social lubricant:

but i am sick of fighting something that is not bad. it is a social lubricant. my policy on substance now just depends on the situation, who it is with. i’ll tackle it at the time. and i’ll still say no a lot. it is just a part of life.

but disregard the disregard (substance) was a guard against the world for my own righteousness. breaking down the disregard makes me realize that it was another plateau that was just causing stress. a plateau of fear. fear and plateaus are death. kicking your crosses down it brought about a distraction of my story yet i esteem belief. multifarious is how i would define the world. 

i wrote that in the middle of the night last night. i can’t believe that it actually makes sense.

so all this righteousness is mixed in with this idea of glorifying god. glorifying god ties all these things together that don’t do much more than alter your own reality.

glorifying god is actually confirming conviction.

think about it, i just attacked an attack at the attack at your reality. but it’s not an attack on reality. seriously, life is a miracle – it’s amazing.

it attacks that infinite silence and calls it a plan. not that i could disagree, the world is a miracle. but defies the mystery of it and makes it a story. stop accepting the mythology put out by the record companies. if you analyze the artist then you’ll see the confusions and contradictions. 

if all you knew of elton john was his music and what you heard on the radio. you’d never know he was a bulimic, homosexual coke addict. also, you would have no knowledge of the true genius behind elton john’s work: bernie taupin.

i’m not denying his musicianship or his artistship or skillship or any other ship of his shit. i’m just askin…

what do you know about elton john? he makes you feel. you only know the nice feelings that come up on the radio. or the nice feelings after repentance.

i swear my love is real.

“they mean i like the way you make me feel”

i am not insulting your righteousness. i am insulting righteousness. but i love righteousness. it preserves order. remember the plateau? what about walking on the water?


maybe this is better

still, even then. that righteousness, however matched it is to the real world is a plateau. and a plateau is based off fear. but so is most people’s driving habits, which are probably better than mine. but i am all wrapped up in fear like a pig in a blanket. after years of their crown on my head, i’ve grown overfed, unconcerned and comfortably numb, kept busy indulging in the pleasures of the wealthy.

 but i will also be so bold as to say that i am bold amidst this pointless life.

i believed it all, i really did but it doesn’t really matter. “i trained my mind to feel”, and that’d be fine if i could still follow those old tricks. but i am a new dog now. and it hurts like a bitch sometimes. but now i have sunk and i am more concerned with success and failure. i am curious to see who i am in different situations, to see what part of me is me apart from me. i am not a self-disciplined man, i’d rather rely on skill, intuition, hard work and all that instead of letting rules rule my life.

title: alcohol was a little like disregard, so when i disregarded that attachment i had to the abstinence of alcohol and just good times in general. i regarded that guard (abstinence) as hard work and i regard hard work highly. but it was a pointless fight, i had no reason to hold my guard. i had many reasons to forfeit. so i wonder if in the future i will take up the guard again.

as it is the human life span is just a series of turns and contradictions.

struggling with the future is this strange wrestling match in which i am constantly pinned and yet because i see so much of myself in the new pinning move and so i have this strange thought that i can affect the future outcome. but the future is now, you are pinned and there isn’t much more you can do besides struggle and hope to strengthen your future self as he tries, with effort but inevitably to pin you down.
our midnight needles go to work until all comfort and fear flows in one river down the shelf of the mirror and it makes you shiver.
there is so much contradiction inside this world and i wish to capture it. the contradiction in that struggle metaphor.
no matter what the future will happen, we cannot affect it. yet, we affect it.
movement and repose.
and you wonder why i am so affectionate with mewithoutYou?

your nisPe is showing.

In Uncategorized on 02/16/2011 at 3:04 AM

certainly i have put up this song before. put up with me for my repetition and notice that repetition is reality.

and that is what is so frustrating, i feel like there is something different going on inside me but i realize that i am just a repetition.

i can’t shake this feeling that i am not gonna do anything. what is that? foresight, knowledge, suspicion, doubt or fear?
it’s raining right now.
i had an awesome time with a friend tonight.
additionally, i saw another very sharp girl on my way back to the 3d story. we shivered in the rain together. and i miss her.
getting off my chest says anthony green, without you, i would find a way without you.
feeling overload
bottled skies
i’ve been drowning
a faltered sea
and i give up
common sense failed again
meddling in a foreign sea
foreign tree
time wont spare
daring me with another choice
i don’t know who to fight any more
i don’t know what is right anymore
i don’t know how to feel anymore
i don’t know what is real anymore
i can do that shit
i’ve got words in my bones and words give me a boner
but are you doing anything. sitting and smacking your steering wheel in traffic to mewithoutyou. thinking that you’re passionate. while kids are getting trafficked. that’s them without passion.
honestly i sicken myself
doing nothing is a choice, and it looks a lot like pleasure.
that is why music is so important, it brings me out of my self-hatred. it makes me feel life is real.
la dispute puts laws to the dispute in my head, then colors them with kicks and punches and the blood of a cheater.
maybe a life in the woods as a school teacher where i just prepared and learned and focused would be better.
i have this dream where i have colleagues, and i simply work hard. i have all my necessities and the occasional relaxation that breathes freely with the knowledge that i could die happy then. but i feel like the back wheel detached from the frame. and i wonder how long i will be here still. rolling yeah, but aimlessly driftin around.
oh doubters lets go down lets go down wontcha come on down, down in the dirt by the river to lay in the mud the clothes stained with childrens blood, your hand me down happiness that feels a lot like a mess of unrest and fearful uneasiness, nestled in a tower built by a lie said by slave drivers
so if you care to come along we’re gonna curb all our never ending, clever complaining as who’s ever heard of a singer criticized by a song? why did we trade our tears for fears, at least our tears made us feel.
says the guy who could potentially get paid to cry, but then why can’t he cry?
i don’t know……
maybe she isn’t that special and i have made her more than i maybe should have. i mean this is all pretty gay hahaha.
i sat in my car wondering whether or not i wanna do it. but it isn’t anything. it’s just fear of having a good time and trying. i guess i am just whining for it to be easier.
and i sat in my car thinking about fear. i just wanna conquer fear. if you got that, then you got it all. and there is no plateau with conquering fear. but there is something called determination (knowledge of self).
what do i think is going to happen after i die? i stand by that. nothig will happen. something will happen. just about everything will probably happen. but i’ve got infinity in my coffin to be right about that, so i’ll take a few years of humility recognizing that arrogance is the only happiness happening.
what’s tha profound sound? definitely not kyles files full of trying. i really like this whole bloggin deal because i am realizing that when i sing out loud in the crowd, it’s allowed, and only called loud because you disavowed to put yourself out there. where are you putting yourself when you’re out there? you’re putting yourself in the game. and that’s what this is, a game. but to some life is war and putting yourself out there can mean you are killing someone or taking up prostitution. fuck it, that’s not necessary.
you can breathe, eat and smile every once in a while without that. that’s not an ideal. i don’t really care about organization, order the world however you’d like but we are all just lovers
born of earth. we are a natural disaster. down to earth. cause we are all just lovers.
haha you wish.
fuck you, pay me.
and that is reality.
no i will not ever be happy. but i can let it drive me. bob dylan, what a baller. but i can’t get into that whole grenwich village thing. i dream of it like i dream of fly fishing like i dream of fulfillment.
fulfillment is just a dream i guess.
the hard work club. i wonder if it exists. nope. im starting it.
i feel like this blog is the antithesis of this and the anthem of the antiantithesis of itself. bwahaha. no, not the anthem of the hardwork club. the anthem of the antiantithesis if this blog is the antithesis.
one after 909 hahaah 909 is the word after the 909th word which is “after”
and i am not after the afterlife. i am over the after life like a numerator is over the denominator because you cannot denominate life and end up happy.
everyone is golden now. i love portugal. the man. they are the portugese. which are the man. but everyone is not golden.
there is thing called injustice and i have always felt like my sister should not lie so i told on her. honestly, that is the only thing i could really say that i feel for, injustice. then why don’t i care that women are being opressed when my mom is doing my laundry?
i don’t know… but when i am introspecting, i spectate a speck of a spark emanating from something you can call a heart.
that’s right anthene’s theory of everything, you’re right, but i am right.
gossipping about what albums to listen to is absolutely pointless, sure we can continue to be affected but i wanna be affected with the result of affecting and not just in culture gossip.
i don’t wanna build houses either. i don’t really care about them that much, no one cares about the poor, the hungry and alone.
but i wanna fly into the blazing sun, that’s my true dad. and i will be him. i am king beetle in my own world. no doubt about it. i’d like to make the inner reality of royalty a reality by giving myself a crown of news articles and a series of stockholders clutching my coattails of cash.
swaying i see cattails

cattail up

little sausages swaying and waiting to blow away like dust in the wind. i dunno if that is what aaron had in mind with that song.
who cares, but this is kinda pretty? not really. haha. i hate sausage.
nope. no conclusions for this, it feels incomplete. this is not for anyone. i am just recording things because i like to.
why don’t i just give in, have a drink and shake some hands?
high five. ouch. high fives hurt i’d say. high five rhymes with live. but not with live. bwahah.
i have an audition to be a basketball player in a print ad. i will not get it.
what do i have in the works?
dont read this part
well, maybe i could do math with money. prolynot.
but i am getting into comps and maybe i could program them? or make the programming, on a tv
or on the internet cause tv is going out. like a blogger. oh yeah i blog. but not really. i tumble over myself on tumblr.
but i do like writing. i have tv in my veins, i bet my dad watched tv after conceiving me. and plus there is some money in that. or a movie. and a documentary or 2. but i wanna make classics, art. but everyone does and everyone makes shit instead. so i could be on the screen but then i don’t even care that much. and i could take all this knowledge and cast the big screen. but i don’t fit that fat ass cast. and
i could keep going. but i sure as hell don’t give a shit. so why should you?
honestly, i think that this is all fun. but i wanna do something. i just hate how i am so determined at 3 am, but the morning bends my enthusiasm. maybe it’s because i am face to face with what stood behind a wall of sleep the night before. but not really, i wake up a lot, i have dreams of natural disasters and dying and odd sex.
the more i listen to myself, the more i think i am just a tortured artist tortured by the fact that he isn’t tortured.
but i am starting to like acting class for acting. and i like writing for writing. i wanna do more. and i don’t care if it is for anything.
i am just gonna get practice living outside my own skin reachin in tiers of interaction tearing of my own skin to matter the tears.

beyond yonder wheel we’ll be fond of wonder.

In Uncategorized on 02/11/2011 at 3:22 PM

some say this is fear:

it’s actually a love song.

some say what they say here is fear:

it is actually a love for humanity and a hatred for desire.

but i’d say that this has a lot of fear inside of it.

i’m not downing religion, saying that it is fear. but we are never free from ourselves, that is why religion is not real.

i have just been thinking that i really wanna be right. i wanna look back on my life and say that i did it right. there may be a right and a wrong, but humans can’t be either.

so where do we place our hearts?

there is this certain sculpture at UCLA. it is hidden, no one knows this sculpture i am talking about. but it is the most beautiful sculpture in UCLA. i’m glad it is hidden. after all, do we not hide our own hearts?

yes, we do. we hide them in our belly, then gorge ourselves and only let ourselves have our own way when we eat. we hardly embrace our hearts. one could measure the human life by placing on a spectrum how hidden the heart is.

another heart is hidden in the willow tree that bends itself to hear the stream. maybe i will show you these things… these esoteric elements of the university.

but my camera is being stupid: lolz.

there is no fear in love says ben gibbard? i would agree with that. that is why, among many other things, this is love:

i sometimes place my heart in my feet and then jump off a building. i love it. i’ll put it in my forearm and beat the drums. i’ll put it in my limbs and dance to the post-hardcore experimental rock that i love. i’ll dance to just about any rhythm really. i just don’t wanna be bogged down by the societies dancing. i like to think that i am primal: even if i’ve never been outside a city or national park in my life.

we keep our heart in our belly’s though. hidden, and bathed in acid so whenever our hearts come out, they are usually breathing fire or bleeding tears.

with acting, we must learn to spill our guts. then put make up on it and call it a character:

it’s not that gruesome… but this is just how it is for me. it’s different for me.

beauty brings my heart into my eyes, my pupils. my peripheries are guarded to see if anyone walks in my room as i am watching harold and maude or a river runs through it. that’s why i love movies.

and i do feel when i act, but it’s so much like a religion. it’s so much belief and double think i feel like our hearts aren’t even real sometimes.

but that’s just because i’m trying to be good. i’m trying to be right: goodness is part of my fear. i fear putting my heart  in my hand. for some reason i wanna be good and true.

so i won’t let you in.

seriously, listen to all of those songs, no matter how long they are.

i can’t even highlight the great lyrics because the whole song is such a great explanation.

i don’t really care about her anymore. even though she brings my heart out sometimes. i will bring my heart out myself. and it’ll make “precious stones, overturning stones”. if something happens with her, then it does. but i don’t care anymore. she’s just a fish in the sea now. so this song is for her:

and as benson hedges ends: i received a call, from my friends and family, and what they tried to said, brought me home, they think i’m beautiful, for all my big mistakes.

well yeah. i make a lot of mistakes i guess.

i had a dream where i quit calpirg and hopskotch came outside to the bench i was napping on dragged me by my feet back outside. i don’t know how but he broke a window and open the locked door. i’d say he is probably one of my most carefree friends, so it made sense what happened.

i have been afraid of thinking of myself as an artist. as if that isn’t real or effective. i am going to embrace it now. time to fuck some shit up. i don’t care how much money i raise anymore, i don’t care how much good i do. i just want to conquer my fears

“i need to feel something different for just a little while. BACK BACK BACK!”

since the wheel, man has been making civilization. i can’t do anything about it. but i can do something about it. so beyond that wheel that rules us, is ourselves where we are fond of wonder. the wheel reels in fear of the mystery that keeps the horizon heavy and true.

i think i think in ink

In Uncategorized on 02/04/2011 at 9:14 PM

emailed this to myself too… lotta pain here: but at least i finally figured out the meaning to “LIGHT IS DARK”

i can think in images. i can think in music. i can think in words. i can think in numbers. i can think in emotions. i can think in memories. i can think in hopes. i can think in relationships. i can think in idioms and concepts.  read about the savants. then read about the inventors. they both have a remarkable display of focus. and luck. then read about the hard work of every slave race and how unlucky they were.then read about the powerful jews in hollywood who import their water from new york to fairfax to make good bagels because they know that this is where it’s at. and how lucky they were to have been a part of it’s start up. (not a racist slur, it’s an “entourage” reference) and all the other luck, work, and sacrifice people have gone through why does this all boil down to focus? if you’re focused, you’re in the right place at the right time.if you’re focused, you are working yourself.if you’re focused, you are sacrificing ease for yourself. in the end, it’s all about how you control yourself. why don’t i think through things? why do i think through things. stop it. i am convinced of my mind and the mind. don’t tell me to party. don’t tell me to have fun. don’t tell me that i am wrong. because i know that i am right. my conviction is a little thing called inspiration. i understand the sad fact that it takes focused people to make something we like to call “good” happen in the world. try though they might to say it’s not for pride, it is to a certain extent. pride in their people, themselves, a friend. it is about pride and that is not bad because we all take pride in something. we just hope that it is ourselves and what we have achieved. because being sure of yourself despite what people say has this cold shiver of denial that we take out of necessity. because in history, you do not exist. you know that you exist, but pride should give the downtrodden hope. history spurs progress because being remembered is all we remember when we die. memory makes me more. and as ironic as it is that i must achieve doublethink to bridge my goals and means, is as lucky as i am to be human because irony is that one terrible thing a lot like to call god.  i think with that quote he was calling me an artist. and he said i was in tune with life, moreso than others. god is irony. so this is the formula to fail: have an idea. think it through.set a goal.think it through.accomplish that goal.humble yourself {think it through} let that be your life. be prideful when you die. even if it is all for nothing. you know what it is for. it is for nothing. if “it” is your life, then why make your life nothing to convince yourself it is something when you could just make your life something and laugh because you know it’s all for nothing.  you can become nothing, in exchange for something. but guess what? you made that decision when you realized that it was all for nothing. you cried yourself to sleep as a child, for years and years in fear of hell. the fire, the darkness, the burning, the eternity. then in your sophmore year you said, “i give up, i’ll accept the american evidence”. then you took a trip at 3 am and no matter how many times you baptized yourself and repented in that meager restroom, you couldn’t look in the mirror the same way. you had come to terms with something. and thus began this long relationship with mystery that i have still only had a year or so to enjoy. go ahead and say that i am empty. but i am not, i am full. sorry to rain on your joyous, patriotic, drunken, religious orgy of a human sacrificial parade. i am full of all these things you were taught to hate. why were you taught to hate them? because they are human. and that is why i am full and you are empty. you emptied yourself of your human traits and then you went about your lives, living those things you condemn. i don’t care that you are hypocrites. i am a hypocrite. i am perfect. so if you would like to come join me, we’re gonna curb all our never-ending, clever complaining as whose ever heard of a singer critisized by his song? we hunger, though all that we eat brings us no relief we don’t know quite what else to do. we have all our beliefs but we dont want our beliefs. god of peace, we want you. you strike the match, why not be utterly changed by the fire? sacrifice the shadow and the mist of a brief life you never much liked. sorry, can’t say i completely agree with this one. i am over in the dark. and the darkness is the light. look around you, you cannot see everything, thus you are in the dark. the dark is the light… you know what that means? that’s right commutahtive. or was it commutaitive?? whatever, it’s communicating the same thing. THAT LIGHT IS DARK. that’s right fools, i figured out what “Light is Dark” means. i also figured out why nietzche was in a mental hospital. life is crippling. life will kill you. and it kills me when i stop and think about it. but that’s why i gotta walk and think about it. skate the ice rink around it, in circles, buildin momentum until i am flying. so i gotta tell you who all think that conversion is real.I hope that you stop flyin around like those summer bugs in the summer light on the summer porch. because while it’s summer over here, it’s winter in australia. the world is a wide web.  “stop being a bitch already. be a visionary. then maybe you can see your name in the column of obituaries.” -talib kweli weird eh? how that lyric inspires me. im not an artist you fools. artists are self-important pricks. i am self-important, but i am also good. or at least i am being good in the hope that i am good. no i am just inspired by the hope that my own insecurities may one day be laid to rest with my body. btw, i don’t wanna be cremated or buried. i don’t care what you do with my body. modern burial: just forget about my body and remember me.

and here is an afterthought.

the modern man does not care about power. tradition is about power. i would say the modern man simply wants to be remembered. the modern man is an idea. no one is a modern man because we all want power… but modernity is about embracing yourself as something that can last beyond yourself. maybe… gotta think about that one some more.

i can see the day: sweet moody blue eyes.

In Uncategorized on 02/04/2011 at 9:08 PM

let’s talk about fear. “fear is the lock and laughter the key to your heart.”

look what i wrote:

“I can’t make her laugh if i cannot talk to her. and i can’t talk to her if she doesnt stop blowing me off. my suspicions have been confirmed time and again, and i don’t care. i am gonna be honest.  *sigh* actually the *sigh* should precede the statement I’m gonna be honest. that’s how i’d say it honestly. oh damn it. *sigh* that’s how i’d say it honestly i’d see her occasionally. but for some reason she always sounded busy… she’d begin with this sigh and let her eyes go in different directions and give maybe a smile (one of the few suggestions that she is just being coy, or she is just being polite and annoyed). i’d always instigate conversation. i chose instigate because every conversation between us has this secret violence. my knees immediately go weak as i see her and i waver incessantly between playing it cool and harassing her until she realized that i am a baller and that i would ballher in such a fashion. and even, fashionably bring her to balls. generally, i’d just try and connect with her. play it calm, cool and collected. i’m not easily knocked down, though i am always quite shaken up. perhaps it’s all just a game, which i hate btw. sure sexual tension is great and all, but i don’t really care about that. i wanna talk to her. then she’ll complain about 1 of 4 options or a combination of them all. “so tired from swim team”, “gotta study math/chem (math is the real killer, this is the original excuse)”, “going out with the girls”, “gotta finish an article”. and no matter what she says, i love her for it. it’s terrible. i know it’s all about timing and how i have failed with it all. generally, i ask her if she’s free sometime in the next 60 years/week. she says no to the second one, and implies no to the first. maybe that’s the problem. i’m sayin 66 years with my eyes, when i should just wear some hipster apparel, go out with her, get krunk, say a few jokes, and then dry hump her until we are friends and then we can date and go to an ice cream store or something else where they serve cold, creamy vanilla. i’d much rather some bold, spicy food that we make up together if you ask me. i remember the time that we drove on the bus to the hockey game with a free booze going around. yes i was the only one sober. it was opportune because she revealed to me these discrete things she held against me. she thought i was playin her, and i have evidence that she continues this conviction. that i am just a sweet-talkin dick sauce who likes to spread a bit of himself on every nice slice of bread he sees because he thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread, in fact before sliced bread and keepin sliced bread in the kitchen (adam and eve reference).  aw dammit. how do you combat that? either an egalitarian asshole or an egalitarian eunic. well i have trouble with confrontation so now i am an altruist giving his time to charity.  back to classifying every encounter. so then she goes her way without asking anything about me. she confided in me in the golden days of her power of flirtation and i feel angry with fear that i am the victim of manipulation. i will be very angry if it’s true. but if it ends up well, then how can i be angry. i will just laugh. but it is suggestive of her and you know how people are, they like their good things to be good and they don’t like their good things to do bad things out of the blue. even if i try to be good and do bad things – she cant. it really is a terrible situation. i am not crazy, it is happening. “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” gives a great description of my pain. especially the spanish part because she is fluent and has ties back to Samerica.  something else happens,i would see her in my periphery, i have a keen eye for recognizing her btw. most people, i can’t recognize within 5 feet. i saw her from the ice cream machine while she was at the salad bar. suck it, i’d know that ass, that hair, however crass, anywhere. no she isn’t the hottest thing around, but i value work. and that body has been worked on. so i see her in my periphery, get a jolt of blood, and keep walking on. not all the time, but sometimes i don’t acknowledge her. i wait to until she passes my lign of sight so i don’t look so forlorn. result? ignored… i am certain that she sees me, (sunglasses baby), and yet she does not call my name.  aw dammit.”

gmailed that to myself one time.

what do you fear?

i fear forgetting all my profound dities. (not profundities). i had something profound to say about fear. i fear not being found pro at being profound. no… that wasn’t it. anyways, I am locked inside of my fear.

I have been focusing too much on the “BE”, and not as much the “DO”. being effective does not lie in being effective. i would like to be effective at being personable. so i must be personable and put myself in situations where i must be personable. simple but it has helped me in thinking of things.

i’m not afraid anymore!

some of my laughs were too much like this

or this:

seriously. that is what UCLA is like. they all just speak in their language and laugh at you. quite a fright.

I have a great sense of humor, I can’t think of too many times where i can’t laugh. but laughing isn’t everything. neither is pain. it’s not human to be something. it’s human to be human. and being human is about doing things. exploring, being inspired, then let down, then lost, and all that junk . i’m sick of thinking of myself as something that is something to think about.

yet, there are things i want to be. I wanna be that chaste asshole who is just too smart for his own good. Well, I am that, minus the too smart part. I don’t care about being smart. But i want to get shit done.

When I am 88 I would like to look at my life and be proud of the time that my eyes bled because i climbed too high on that mountain. I do not want that plateau. I do not care about the peak. I am not interested in the top of anything. I am interested in being a modern human. Defy gravity, the sand that rolled up the hill despite any wind or rain.

That is how I feel, all these people are just dust that makes mountains up out of religion. These mountains are compact dirt and though they are mountains, they are still dirt that cannot hold you forever. I remember one time, I almost fell at least 2 stories up at Corriganville because I tried to scale a sandstone rock and I leaped to far. So what am I? I am just sand.

A drop of watery gravel unraveling and groveling at the feet of himself.

For the moment I can see way better than I’ve ever seen.

My imagination knows no limits. Did you know that? I know that. I limit myself. What a line… it’s crazy to say that you limit yourself. I doubt myself a lot. They aren’t doubts at the time. In retrospect, they are doubts because ya never know.

Ya never know if that idea you have for a painting will work or not. Ya never know if that person really needs you to say that to them. Ya never know what you are capable of.

I have been living this out to an extent; I’m out there, pushing myself, meeting people, acting, learning, working, exploring myself. I don’t even know what I do for pleasure anymore.

but I’ve been looking at it incorrectly. I’ve been trying to master myself, but I feel I’ve been monstering myself. No success is worth it if you lose yourself in the process. And what do I fear losing, my humanity. In fact, I am afraid I will have to embrace my humanity in order to do anything with art and media.

Sometimes, my insecurities play out this idea that being an actor is about exploring all walks of life so I should just let loose [can i just say, i love that “your hand in mine” is 8:08] and be free. As if, not embracing the image of an actor is tying me down.

However, I would rather fail at trying to be chaste and free. You are not free, you need pussy. You need him to look at you. I am not free either…

But I’d like to try. I’m going to post some emails i sent to myself. This is me trying not to edit myself. Yet there are so many secrets behind every statement and thought that no one can reveal. And when we do, let’s call it art.

I’m not an artist, I am a visionary. Art is inspired, visionaries are inspired. But I will make art of myself.

I still love her. And I love her because she is an idea: that is an “ugly fact of life”. I have this dream of myself. I have this dream of my friends. We will be together one day, and I feel that I know a few people who humble me, then inspire me, and reduce the loneliness. And I have this dream of a love..

Long story short. I went to sleep, woke up in utter ecstasy. I had this vision of a woman and myself and a baby. We were all nude in the shower and it was not sexual. I was filled with love for the rest of the day. That day, we learned about abortion and I had to view pictures of marred fetuses. I was scarred. I cried in the middle of class. I didn’t bawl, but I could not help but cry. Maybe I just ate too much estrogen, but I felt some sort of love and I’d like to think that is real.

I can only love someone who I see as greater than myself, it is funny really. This familial institution is so upright and perfect, but just like charity; it is all selfish. “Continuing on the family name”?

And that is not bad. Selfish is not bad.

She got 90 points more on her SAT, therefore she is my soulmate. It’s as simple as that. I know that she agrees with me to an extent… But the truth is, I am getting blown off. I came on too strong. That worries me sometimes; as if that is saying something about me. I do not think so though.

But I am not dreaming… I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are, and you make it haaaard. Friday evenin, sunday in the afternoon, what have you got to lose? Tuesday morning, please be gone i’m tired of you. what have you got to lose? can i tell it like it is? well listen to me baby… it’s my heart thats a suffering, that’s what i’ve got to lose… i’ve got an answer, i’m going to fly away what have i got to lose?

That is the point. I had a real moment in my car singing that song. Actually, I have had a McGuire week… everytime CSNY is playing really.

I just… wonder when I will see that first girl I saw. She is different now…

But I am not afraid of her anymore. I don’t care if I lose her. I don’t have her.

I walked back from my car and literally kicked a tree that had fallen to the way side for what seemed like forever. Leaves were scattered everywhere, branches broken. I destroyed this tree. And I felt good, when I was crying and screaming and kicking like a baby.

Who am I kidding?

It was getting to the point, where I was no fun. I am sorry, but sometimes it hurts so badly that I must cry out loud: “I am lonely!”

Honestly, people are beautiful. That is what I want to show people. Coherence is beauty, and only we can create coherence out of this world. So then, we are beautiful because we are the creators of coherence. And some pretty shitty TV (i’d know, i’ve been on it)… so I guess that was a contradiction.

So in the end, it’s all about that dream in the sky, that love, that keeps me starry eyed. The blue sky. And that is in her sweet moody blue eyes. Maybe..