All these things

You were my King and I was your fool, riding home after school.

I wish I could finish that statement and not be stealing. Stealing from one of the greatest American Poets of our time. Of ever.

If ever you were wondering what to get me, if you were interested in buying me a gift, get me something Morrison. Something The Doors. He's fantastic. He was, the remaining members still are. I think, honestly, and i hate to be this sort of fan because i know what it's like to be alienated from the group, but really Jimmy dear was fantastic. Not to say that the other musicians were not talented, they are, but Jim made it happen. That sucks for the rest. I love Jim.

Every time I went to type 'jim' just then, i ended up typing 'him', what's that say? I don't know. I think I'm giving up on punctuation for now, i just cant handle it. grammer either. who know, maybe spelling is next to go, it's possible. it's likely.

I'm in my living room in my jammies (jammys?) listening to The Doors and having a drink. Who am i? Those in my day to day can guess. I'm not a copier, we just have similar taste. Mine is better.

hahhhahahha.

this is great. I think it's at this point i issue an apology to my sister and my body.

I tried to quit smoking, i did. it didn't take. whoops. I'll try again. right in time for those goosd old new years resolutions. Resolutions is a funny word, it can mean a lot of things.

It bothers me that a lot of people don't know that 'a lot' is two seperate words. I remember it from my 7th grade english teacher, i dont recall her name, but i know i was the last class she taught, she retired after that. we had a discussion in which she tried to get me to admit i thought she smelled bad, and then she yelled to the class that if she never taught us anything she at least wanted it to stick that 'a lot' was two words and not one. she was crazy, but it bothers me to this day when people type alot. it's almost as bad as addicting. NOT A WORD, PEOPLE. geeze

i am the l.a. woman and i am the twentieth century fox. also maggie macgill.

all of the above.
remixes are good.

Bowne

I've got this problem, see.
I can't sleep. I can't sleep. I can't sleep.
Everything you've heard about it is true. When I can't sleep, I think too much. But not in an aware, cognitive sort of way. More like a stream of consiousness.
More like this.
I also am having trouble typing because one of my fingernails broke off today and it's grossing me out to hit the keys with that finger. It's the middle of my right hand, so kind of important.
In the scheme of things. You know, the grand one.
I feel like I've been making progress, but I'm so unsure of most things. Like, it doesn't take much to make me doubt a lot of things. For example:
I'm out of town and out of touch and because of those two seperations, I feel like an unanswered text means so much more than 'I'm a boy and I'm playing video games with other boys' In my restless head it translates closer to something like "I'm a boy and I hate you. You shouldn't have done that thing you did."

Problem:

I don't know what I could have done. I mean, I've given all of you ample opportunity (and excuse) to head for the hills. I don't know why you would now. But, but, but, I'm insecure and emotionally retarded so to me everything means something when, in reality, it all means nothing.

But then, saying that sort of downplays your own emotional abilities, which I know are not that stunted.

What I'm saying is "Am I wrong? Have I done something wrong?"

I know it's an old, annoying question. And things may have gotten to the point where my breathing irritates you, so pointless questions are probably not going to help. But, but, but, that's why I'm writing this here, and not on your phone. Why I'm keeping my paranoia to myself and not putting it on your mind.

Thanks for playing.

i am obi wan

I cannot explain what it is that I feel. The only way I can tell you how I feel is, and God this is silly, but, and I only say it this way because it's a cultural refrence that I think will make sense to you. So, yeah, I felt a disturbance in the force. Oh man, that's ridiculous. And now, I mean, this doesn't mean in my own deranged mind. This isn't something that's changed in me. I feel this change outside of myself. Like, look, I woke up and, I'd only been sleeping for a few hours. 3. 4, maybe. And it wasn't a dream that woke me, it was a feeling. Something changed and I woke up, startled, just sat up and couldn't sleep again for a long time. This change was something, something physical. It wasn't a mental thing, not a thought, not an emotion. It was something real. Something has happened to someone. I don't know what, or to who. It felt, masculine, somehow. It happened to a male. I don't know who. Father, brother, one of you. Something changed with someone. You, Ferranto, Landon. I don't know. It's bizarre and I don't like it, but there it is.

dialogue

Have you seen the accident outside? 7 people took a ride, 6 bachelors and their bride.
Are you lovedrunk on jim again?
Again
Try this one, 'the moths and atheists are doubly divine and dying. we live, we die, and death not ends it..' Where are you? He was a great man. Dance it off, you'll be alright.
Love it... I need to buy his books. Lol, sorry if I'm keeping you up.
It's okay baby, we know how well I sleep. I got one today...be jealous
What's one? Damn I would be going crazy in my bed if andy wasn't sleeps.
Oh you crack me up, American Dreams. Why'd you get so drunk?
BC that's when I really enjoy, when I really can see him
I want to experience this with you sometime. I want to see what you do.
Once I had a little game, I like to crawl back in my brain, I think you know the game I mean, I mean the game, called go insane.
You want ecstasy, desire, and dreams. Things are not exactly what they seem. You're too young to be old. You don't need to be told. You want to see things as they are. You know exactly what I do. Everything
Run with me, run with me
Let's recreate the world. the palace of conception is burning for it, for you, Look, see it burn. Bask in the warm hot coals
Why the obsessed? Why am i?
I don't know why you are. Old memories for me, and aspirations. I love words too much not to love his. The pictures, the stories he makes. Everything visceral and sexaul and alive.
Yes
Yes to all of my reasons? Well, I'm glad to share them.
I just have a part of me that wants to drop everything and follow, shit this sounds so dumb. sorry.
Not dumb, impulsive. Follow what?
Idk, I'm just in love, sometimes, most times I feel like that all I need is this, jim, and everything else is whatever.
In love with Jim? All you need is love, as the saying goes. I just need that and ink, nothing else is real....who do you love enough to follow?
Lol you can have it. I know I'm just being stupid. But drunk Landon wants him,n wants to understandm wants to be brave enough.
Drunk Landon says much more than the sober one, so what have you got to be brave for?
Everyone looks for someone to look up to, but I never have, but I guess its my time.
We all need heros. Go back to sleep. 'Slip into unconsiousness...'

I can now not stand to be in silence. The things I once so admired about myself are slipping, shed like lizard's skin. I am still content to be alone, but my mind gives way to lonliness far more often than I like to accept. My words and thoughts, fragments of malcontentedness are spread over so many notebooks, applications and scraps of paper it is getting harder for even me to keep track of them. My calendar still reads August and directions to someone's house (I forget whose) are still written on my mirror. Though they cover my face in the mornings, I haven't got the strength to erase them. I seem to have a standing date with failure. I don't know why. I hate this 'disease' this modern 'disorder' I hate the weakness it breeds in me. I want nothing more than to sleep, and yet am terrified to do so. The nightmares are back. Wicked and bloody and too bold. They tell me too much of what I already know, unspoken fears manifest themselves in my grey cells. I wake with sweaty hands and a bloody mouth. I feel sick all of the time, guilt over God knows what. Surely I've committed no such sins as in my sleep. Thus, concious does make cowards of us all... I'm sick to my stomach over what I have not done, what I should not have said, and what I did not say. I don't know the answers to all these silly questions. I plague myself. I cannot be alone and yet I want the company of none.

I'd hate to forget

It went basically like the few rough drafts below. "I can keep doing this, I can do anything, but I won't. I don't want to anymore, which is what makes this time different." I said most of what I wrote below. "I don't know why you keep coming back to it..." It isn't any of those things, sometimes I just miss it, miss you. I'm still not saying no, but be sure the next time you ask, you know why I'm here. I know, I haven't been fair, I'm sorry. Watching you struggle thru all of this, it's hard, we're here for you.
All in all a success. We'll see how long it lasts.

Reasons I am tired

I am tired being 'there for you' when you aren't for me. I am exhausted by your inability (or refusal) to return my investment. I spend so much of my time worrying about you, about whether or not this is worth the pain only I seem to suffer. Yes, this is presumptous, yes, this is selfish. I know, and I'm sorry.
But I'm tired of having to apologize everytime I have a reaction. I'm so tired of feeling wrong. This doesn't matter to you. I hate being the only one who has to fight. Fight for whatever it is we're clinging to. Moderating the fight between my mind and my heart. Yes, this is dramatic. I know that too. But really, at worst this stresses you out. Poor thing. I sympathize but I feel like I'm holding you back from what you want to be, who you want to be with and that's not fair, but more to my concern, I'm holding myself back too. Not from some great mythical joy, but from feeling anything other than hurt. Or anger. I don't want to do this anymore and I wont. I hate having to sacrafice my friendship with you, or the others, but I cannot, will not, continue this. I don't have the strength. And I don't know where to find more. It doesn't seem to matter to you, to affect you at all, and here I am, beating myself up over it all. I'm tired of being the one to blame. I don't know if your silence is cruel or kind. You will let me walk away and it won't hurt you at all. In fact, it's probably somewhat of a relief. It must be. That's the story.

For Mr. B

Look, can I just be totally honest with you? I swear that this isn't the same talk we've had a thousand times, it may seem that way, but hear me out, this one, this one is unique. You are one my best friends and as such, time with you is one of the things in my increasingly dreary life that makes me happy. But that goes for all the boys. Whatever happened, happened a long time ago and I'm not, like, waiting around for you to fall in love with me or something. The only reason that things went the way they did was because I was afraid of losing you. Of losing this friendship we've tried to hard to salvage. And yeah, sure I'm still afraid of losing that, of course I am, but the longer I stay here, in whatever limbo this is, the more I lose my mind. And friend, I love you, but I love me more and I gotta find someway to be sane again. I'm coming at life with all this baggae and excess and dark shit and I don't wanna do it anymore. I'm not even talking about the physical slipups we keep having, the mistakes there. I mean, I know why I keep letting that happen, why I keep encouraging that. You're not stupid, you know. But, I can't figure out what keeps you here. I don't know if you're bored, or lonely, if you just wanna feel like a man, or what. But you treat me like a convience. Like, when you need a warm body, for whatever your reason is, I know you don't want me, but I've told you a thousand times I'd never tell you no. I don't know why you keep coming back to it, and frankly, if it's any of those reasons, I don't wanna know. I could be wrong, hope I am, but unless you correct me, I'll assume I'm not.
So, I gotta go, I can't keep doing this to myself, keep humiliating myself for you. You'll ask me to leave eventually so it might as well be on my own terms.

Things to Remember

'I have to read my phone, you can wait'

Of course, darling, I'm always waiting.

'I meant, you guys...'

Not even on the back burner anymore, eh?

'Shutup, that's not what I meant'

All of this is of course covered in smiles and laughter, but I didn't want to forget all the clever little quips and rude asides. All in the name of friendship....

(S)he's a Brick

And I'm drowning slowly

Look, I'm need to get my self figured out. But, I can't do that until I get this resolved. Not because it's all encompassing or enveloping, but because it's the one thing that I can pin-point as wrong. It's the one thing that I know, I know is helping me ruin myself. I have to at least address this before I can focus.

I'm tired of being miserable, and you my darling, make me just that. As much as I enjoy spending time with you, all of that time, it's makes me joyless. I feel nothing most of the time. And you cure that. Not just you, of course, all my boys here. This house, the people here make me happy and alive. It's a hard thing for me to find nowadays. But, you also make me feel so bad. I can't keep doing this.

I know that there's no going back. I know I can be exhausting. I know that. I exhaust myself.

But

I need you to hear me out, and if you have a reaction, anything, any words at all, I'd die to hear them. I need to know I'm not talking to a wall here.
There is no return to whatever it was and I'm pretty sure we wouldn't go back even if we could. I know I'm not them. The Click, Worth Your Time, Blitz, any of them. And I know, and appreciate that I have a seperate part of your life. It's that that I'm afraid of losing. But I also know you're never going to make me worth your time. You are never going to hold my hand or take me to a movie or tell people about me. I know and am doing my best to accept that. But I'm so conflicted. I don't want to keep losing bits and pieces of you, not to them, not to anyone, but not surrendering those same parts is killing me.

Fucking daggers, right?

As happy as it makes me to spend the night in your bed, on your couch, in your arms anywhere, I die in the morning. When you leave to answer the phone, when you roll over in your sleep to answer a message from someone else. Don't you see?

I meant to start all of this with something else. I meant to tell you I'm in love and I hate you. That's all there really is.

You All E'v'body

"You are everybody. In some area of your life, you are a killer, a crook, a liar and a whore. You are a genius, a god and pure. You are everything. There goes a man who is going to be killed. There goes you. Somewhere, you are that man."

Deadlines and dedications

I know I play it off a lot, but everytime we have an 'event' it does stress me out a lot because I think of how many months this has been drawn out. Point is we HAVE to finish it. That may mean we can't drink around each other for awhile. idk.


I know. I don't know what it is. Why I keep fucking up, because that's all that's happening. Mistakes compounded for way too long. I want to talk about it, but don't know what else to say. I'm sorry doesn't even begin to cover it anymore and I'm beginning not to see a way out.

But I understand if you are going through a rough patch right now, and as a friend I'm here to lend an ear.

God, why are you so nice about me? I appreciate it. And I'm sorry I've been hurting you with this. I'm not as nice. In all honesty, I just feel as though I've been using you, using this, as some sort of comfort. Sick, right? But I can deal with that about myself, but I see now that it, that I am hurting you and that's the last thing I want.

I wouldn't have brought this up unless I was really worried about our friendship. But you don't need to say sorry anymore. It's just at that point now where it's either we end the friendship or we end the problem. I hate to have to say that.

But you're right. Didn't we say this? Were not those the tears? You're absolutely right.

Romance and Villiany

As much as I profess to be unloved, to be unloveable, I find myself drawn, attracted, in-in love with you. All these generations of needless professions. I cannot survive as so many hopeless romantics have. I have not the will, the strength, the endurance to live without your lips being the last on mine. Your tongue the last I taste. Your heartbeat the last I hear. I cannot bear it, to live without you. Without you as my own.
And so I go on, alone, not yours and yet never my own. I stagger on in solitude toward some empty colony of unwanted souls. You, my uncompleted masterpiece, along my side in thought only. Never in life.

Goddesses and Others

I find myself coming to the realization that I do not believe in love. And without that, what else is left?

I find my self lovable, I simply do not believe in the love our generation is so set on. Something glamerous and commercial where even the fights are heightened and extravagant. Something that makes even the most hated aspects of someone shiny and bright and tolerable. A Hollywood sort of love. There will always be something you cannot tolerate, cannot forgive. It is niave to think that your vision of love will erase that. It wont and you're being foolish.

I want to write my memoirs if only because there is so much I want to say and no proper outlet for it. I can't deny that I live vicariously through the fictional characters that I create. The shadiest and darkest of which only see the dim light of reality through this partcular outlet.

There's a strong woman with a decent story in there somewhere. There has to be. It isn't me, but I cling to the hope that it is someone I can model myself after.

I sink like a porous stone, slow and full, like the discovery of some hesitant new species.

What is it about pain that inspires creation?
What suffering must our gods have faced to shed
such life-bearing tears?
Madness surely provokes Art.
And so,
with glowing rod of personal torture
pressing into my Temples,
blood speaks
and makes
volumes of the times of men.
Thru insanity,
elevation,
before the End.

Not to start a conversation, but tonight was good, tonight was progress.

Agreed. Hard, I know, but progress seems to be.

Very, didn't want you to leave. I'm just being ridiculous. Female attachment is all. Sometimes I feel like nothing short of your mistress.

Don't it's fine. Maybe we can get somewhere this time.

No, it's a role I'm, oddly, finding some comfort in. But you're right. Just not always sure I want to move. Does this sort of honesty still fall under the 'good bold' category? I think I'm getting a bit dull.

Ha, good bold indeed, my only concern is one of us getting hurt.

Ha, darling, if there were a risk of hurt, that ship has sailed. Exclusivity and titles aside, the relationship part already happened. What else could hurt? It's the worst, cleanest, breakup ever. The each of us moving on part is the only pain left. Am I wrong?

No, no you're spot on.

Sometimes I find myself not believing in love. Like, what if it really is some made up thing perpetuated by adults too stubborn to let go of the fairy-tale they grew up with? It very well could be a lie; Santa Clause was. The Easter bunny was. Tooth Fairy, ends of rainbows, unicorns, dinosaurs. Love could be like that, something we grow out of once we finally grow up and grasp that something so supposedly profound, so unique and otherworldly and yet so very common can't possibly be more than a nice story.

I think all of that sometimes.

Then I look at you.

(And love and life are redeemed?)

Yes.
(Yes. Of course)
Yes. I want to be common. I want to share that drink that all the world thirsts for. And it's you.
(Me?)
It's you. You break me.
(Torture?)
No, no, it's good. It's a good way. Diminished doubt and childish hopes even into adulthood. It's fantastic. You. Are. Fantastic.

Oh stones

I just think I might be caught up in a very beautiful boy.

I'm in the 3rd

grade again.

your fingertips across my skin
the palm trees swaying in the wind
images
you sang me spanish lullabyes
the sweetest sadness in your eyes
clever trick

i never wanna see you unhappy
i thought you'd want the same for me

goodbye my almost lover
goodbye my hopeless dream
i'm trying not to think about you
cant you just let me be?
so long my luckless romance
my back is turned on you
should've known you'd bring me heartache, almost lovers always do

we walked together down crowded streets
you took my hand and danced with me
and when you left you kissed my lips
and told me you'd never ever forget theses images
-a fine frenzy

In a dream

'I had a dream, Eric. And this was not it. I never wanted to be in your place, but I had hoped for a life more acceptable than running from the headhunters. I'm not a good kid Eric. I mean, we never have been good kids, but growing up made it that much worse. See, we're a selfish lot. Us, our neighborhood, our breed. Beyond selfish are my mistakes. See Eric, this is my long overdue drunken confession to a brother.'

'You're not bad little one.'

I can only really laugh at this. What of me does Eric really know? We haven't spoken in years.

'Not true brutha. I don't focus, I run. I don't love, I run.'

I only bring up love because Eric's been flashing around his wallet full of photos of his new girl and kid. Sentiment and alcohol have never been good to me.

background

So, Eric, the best I can figure it's about the girl.
Girls.
Right, yes. The girls. Plural. I'm an asshole.
Yes.
Yes.
So, you took a girl from the sons of each side, Russ, Uptown Irish, and I-tals. Wifes, nonetheless. You stole the hearts of their wives-
And daughters.
Okay, their wives and daughters. And with the hearts, I imagine there was a bit of cash as well, eh?
A bit, yeah.
You are an asshole.

I can only laugh at this. It's true. I guess I should have put it all together on my own, but honestly, some of these girls (and their mothers) just slip my mind. Really, none of them were really worth this much of a fight. But then, I would say that, wouldn't I?