watching the outcome of the election results, i kinda want to break something. why do i still care so much?
i don't, not really.
no really, i don't.
really truly honestly, i don't give a fuck.
actually, it would be pretty hard for me to care less than i do already.
elections? was there an election today?
do you believe me yet?
i'll keep it up until i do, at least.
here's how i voted:
Governor - Jerry Brown (D) (because i want to cover "California Uber Alles" with my next band and have it be at least somewhat relevant)
House of Representatives: Hedrick (D) (cause it was time someone else got a chance to fuck shit up for us in Washington)
Proposition 19 -yes (c'mon, it's just WEED people)
Proposition 21 - yes (too many damned cars on the road. did you know in California there are almost three times as many registered vehicles as there are licensed drivers? WTF? hells yes, they should keep my parks well-funded.)
Proposition 22 - yes (i like my sidewalks paved, thanks very much)
Proposition 23 - FUCK NO! (you leave my goddamned air alone, Vallejo. I'm kinda busy BREATHING that shit.)
Proposition 24 - yes (if i gotta pay my taxes, so do business owners. everyone wants firefighters and shit, but no one wants to PAY the bastards.)
Proposition 25 - yes (PASS THE GOD DAMN BUDGET! we were like, HOW many months late on that shit? and those bastards still got paid for NOT doing their jobs... must be nice.)
oh, and i voted AGAINST every single nominated Judge, just on principle.
don't see it listed? didn't bother to vote for or against it because i either didn't care one way or another or was completely uneducated about it.
.
don't know what those propositions are? look it up.
really truly sincerelyfromthebottomofmyheart i don't care...
20101102
20100921
anarchy, baby! yeah!
i suppose i'm an anarchist. idealogically anyway. many think anarchism is a bit naive. well, "just 'cause we were naive, it don't mean we were wrong." practically, i suppose i'm more of a socialist. NOT a marxist, mind you. But yeah, i think that as long as government exists it has certain obligations towards those it considers its subjects. not that i'm subject to much at all, but if i need surgery why can't i get it? I'm susceptible to strep throat, and every couple years i have to pay a few hundred bucks for some asshole with cold hands to confirm it for me just so i can have a note saying they can sell me penicillin. SELL me my health. Sell me my life. yes, strep throat, like any infection left untreated, can cause DEATH. Your throat swells up until you're unable to drink any water or eat anything and if the infection doesn't spread to your lungs first, you'll die of malnutrition. My back molars are broken because my wisdom teeth are coming in under them. I am in a LOT of pain a lot of the time. what can i do about it? little more than bitch and moan, ultimately. no dentist will work on my mouth without insurance which, of course, i can not afford.
some will say that i chose to live my life the way i do, menial jobs and the like. i coulda stayed in the army and had all this shit fixed for free. I could have gotten some suck-ass corporate job, one with benefits, but would i enjoy my life as much as i do? would i have even lived long enough for my wisdom teeth to come in? why must security and enjoyment in life be mutually exclusive?
well, they don't have to be, but this country is run by greedy motherfuckers. truth. corporations control the governing bodies, cause they got the MONEY they need to get re-elected. And what is a corporation's driving goal? MONEY. So much so, in fact, that they are required by LAW to put the interests of their shareholders above all else. And what do the shareholders want? more money. it all comes down to that, ultimately. who's got it, who needs it, how do we get more of it?
now i call myself an idealogical anarchist, as opposed to a practical anarchist because i'm simply not as idealistic as i used to be. The big trick of this Capitalist Republic is keeping the masses just happy enough, just distracted enough that they don't riot. When a riot DOES occur, the major media outlets provide next to NO coverage, for much the same reasons the politicians don't want to help. the corporations provide the advertising MONEY they need to stay in business.
jesus, so many problems would be solved if people didn't have to worry about where the next paycheck was coming from.
I'm coming to realize i've bitten off more than i can chew with this. this posting has little direction, and the points it is trying to make are vague and played out, sorta. just like the modern anarchy movement, i suppose. I will have to revisit this topic in smaller doses, when i've had more thoughtful deliberation behind it. Small bites...
yeah. Capitalism is a bummer. True freedom has NEVER existed in this country, and you're a fool if you think otherwise. Give me penicillin or give me - wait wait wait... Fuck the penicillin, i could really use a burrito.
Give me a burrito, or give me death.
If it wasn't for C. i'd be going to bed hungry most nights.
here's a poem about the machine ruining your life.
____________________________________________________________________________
You Brought Me Here, Now Take Me Home
1.
Behind sealed doors, the leaders of men
discuss the future
of paranoia.
Armed guards dissuade the interruption of
the meeting in
progress.
Progressively blinding eyes and teeth turn to distraction,
sleight hands and misdirected runaroundphonetagyou're
it
or
This is Not
"It."
The bird flu will. kill. you. all.
Mutant virii across the planet are
attacking humanity;
Emergency level is raised half a hue,
not quite enough for orange...
more of a
goldenrod.
The Earth itself has turned against us.
2.
This place is a sing-along we can't remember all the words of;
we're humming the parts we can't recall when the microphone is
put in our face, so we holler an approximation of
syllables at the top of our lungs and hope
everyone's too drunk to notice.
3.
No one will ever be able to tell this was the last line written;
a pause
to find momentum,
afterthought symbols to pretend a level of
continuity, coherence,
relevance.
But we are all afterthoughts,
sixth-day refugees from the Garden,
walking sacks of dirt and clay roaming the wastelands of Nod.
We edit, revise, rewrite
our paths with the knowledge
that one day our journey will end.
Look to the stars for comfort and guidance.
Cast wishes and prayers into the wind like sagebrush releasing spores,
seeds of joy and
sorrow.
But what good is Bliss if Happy is alone?
And what good is Sadness if Misery tries to bring everyone
along for the ride?
4.
Waves of varying frequencies are constantly beamed
through our bodies from a vast grid of satellites;
T.V.s, microwaves, computers,
lightbulbs.
Flourescent orbs are cooking us only slightly slower than
our hungry star.
I'd prefer
to be marinated and roasted
over an open fire,
my tender flesh
effortlessly peeled from my bones.
5.
Pay Attention!
Pay attention to the clowns smearing their makeup and
whispering to themselves behind the curtain, hunchbacked
under useless words and
tongues of molasses, brains of jelly, hearts of glass,
and other assorted cliches that true bewilderment requires.
Meanwhile,
the death dealers call to the masses, peddling their wares
like carnival barkers with the gleam of coin in their eyes.
They've got fear, they've got impulse, they've got
a special on schizophrenia, buy one get one half-off.
Buy ten and they'll throw in a free handgrenade.
(I've got mine.)
"This
is what you paid for, now
come get your dollar's worth!
This
is what Appetite calls for!
Hur-ry, hur-ry, hur-ry!
Step right up, step right up!
Who would want to be the last to die?"
Not
I
.
_____________________________________________________________________________
it's true, you know. they've been controlling you with a combination of fear and distraction since you were born. welcome to the New World Order. NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM. it's right there on the back of your dollar.
it's ok though. you can keep sleeping if you want. hell, i can't blame you for it. this shit's kinda scary.
xFx
some will say that i chose to live my life the way i do, menial jobs and the like. i coulda stayed in the army and had all this shit fixed for free. I could have gotten some suck-ass corporate job, one with benefits, but would i enjoy my life as much as i do? would i have even lived long enough for my wisdom teeth to come in? why must security and enjoyment in life be mutually exclusive?
well, they don't have to be, but this country is run by greedy motherfuckers. truth. corporations control the governing bodies, cause they got the MONEY they need to get re-elected. And what is a corporation's driving goal? MONEY. So much so, in fact, that they are required by LAW to put the interests of their shareholders above all else. And what do the shareholders want? more money. it all comes down to that, ultimately. who's got it, who needs it, how do we get more of it?
now i call myself an idealogical anarchist, as opposed to a practical anarchist because i'm simply not as idealistic as i used to be. The big trick of this Capitalist Republic is keeping the masses just happy enough, just distracted enough that they don't riot. When a riot DOES occur, the major media outlets provide next to NO coverage, for much the same reasons the politicians don't want to help. the corporations provide the advertising MONEY they need to stay in business.
jesus, so many problems would be solved if people didn't have to worry about where the next paycheck was coming from.
I'm coming to realize i've bitten off more than i can chew with this. this posting has little direction, and the points it is trying to make are vague and played out, sorta. just like the modern anarchy movement, i suppose. I will have to revisit this topic in smaller doses, when i've had more thoughtful deliberation behind it. Small bites...
yeah. Capitalism is a bummer. True freedom has NEVER existed in this country, and you're a fool if you think otherwise. Give me penicillin or give me - wait wait wait... Fuck the penicillin, i could really use a burrito.
Give me a burrito, or give me death.
If it wasn't for C. i'd be going to bed hungry most nights.
here's a poem about the machine ruining your life.
____________________________________________________________________________
You Brought Me Here, Now Take Me Home
1.
Behind sealed doors, the leaders of men
discuss the future
of paranoia.
Armed guards dissuade the interruption of
the meeting in
progress.
Progressively blinding eyes and teeth turn to distraction,
sleight hands and misdirected runaroundphonetagyou're
it
or
This is Not
"It."
The bird flu will. kill. you. all.
Mutant virii across the planet are
attacking humanity;
Emergency level is raised half a hue,
not quite enough for orange...
more of a
goldenrod.
The Earth itself has turned against us.
2.
This place is a sing-along we can't remember all the words of;
we're humming the parts we can't recall when the microphone is
put in our face, so we holler an approximation of
syllables at the top of our lungs and hope
everyone's too drunk to notice.
3.
No one will ever be able to tell this was the last line written;
a pause
to find momentum,
afterthought symbols to pretend a level of
continuity, coherence,
relevance.
But we are all afterthoughts,
sixth-day refugees from the Garden,
walking sacks of dirt and clay roaming the wastelands of Nod.
We edit, revise, rewrite
our paths with the knowledge
that one day our journey will end.
Look to the stars for comfort and guidance.
Cast wishes and prayers into the wind like sagebrush releasing spores,
seeds of joy and
sorrow.
But what good is Bliss if Happy is alone?
And what good is Sadness if Misery tries to bring everyone
along for the ride?
4.
Waves of varying frequencies are constantly beamed
through our bodies from a vast grid of satellites;
T.V.s, microwaves, computers,
lightbulbs.
Flourescent orbs are cooking us only slightly slower than
our hungry star.
I'd prefer
to be marinated and roasted
over an open fire,
my tender flesh
effortlessly peeled from my bones.
5.
Pay Attention!
Pay attention to the clowns smearing their makeup and
whispering to themselves behind the curtain, hunchbacked
under useless words and
tongues of molasses, brains of jelly, hearts of glass,
and other assorted cliches that true bewilderment requires.
Meanwhile,
the death dealers call to the masses, peddling their wares
like carnival barkers with the gleam of coin in their eyes.
They've got fear, they've got impulse, they've got
a special on schizophrenia, buy one get one half-off.
Buy ten and they'll throw in a free handgrenade.
(I've got mine.)
"This
is what you paid for, now
come get your dollar's worth!
This
is what Appetite calls for!
Hur-ry, hur-ry, hur-ry!
Step right up, step right up!
Who would want to be the last to die?"
Not
I
.
_____________________________________________________________________________
it's true, you know. they've been controlling you with a combination of fear and distraction since you were born. welcome to the New World Order. NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM. it's right there on the back of your dollar.
it's ok though. you can keep sleeping if you want. hell, i can't blame you for it. this shit's kinda scary.
xFx
20100911
it's easy to hate me.
i know a girl who drags her ghosts with her everywhere. the time that passes only seems to hurt more, instead of less. i doubt she analyzes it much. it might not be her fault, maybe it's just the way she's wired. i'm not her first ghost. if she wants it that way, i'll be the last.
maybe she doesn't WANT to heal. maybe moving on is an admittance of guilt to her. i wish she knew, like, REALLY knew that she was better off now. i wish she could be happy for me. i wish she was happy enough with herself to forget all the bullshit.
i wish she wouldn't try so hard to hate. now THAT's wasted energy.
here's a new piece, tentatively titled... i'll probably think of something better. it's rough, just a first draft. i'll look at it tomorrow and see a billion things that can be tightened up, but i really just want to get this out.
__________________________________________________________________________
Hate is just a cop out
a whisper caught at the back of the throat,
familiar phrases caught on crooked smiles and snaggleteeth;
a skipped breath or heartbeat later and everything's fine, everything's ok
on the surface.
smile, keep on smiling icicles like daggers.
no you're not grinding your teeth,
no you're not going to spontaneously combust,
no you won't tear his beating heart out his ribcage and eat it in front of his vacant eyes.
just breathe, remember the mantra:
years weren't wasted, they were learned from
years weren't wasted, they were learned from
years weren't wasted, they were learned from
learning wasn't wasted, they were years spent
on ghosts, failed plans...
blame him enough and maybe you can forget
that what he was scared of
was you.
blame him enough and maybe you can ignore
the part of you that still loves him.
____________________________________________________________________
if she reads this, i hope she knows i'm not bitter. i'm just trying to understand. i'm the first to admit i made mistakes. perhaps my biggest was not saying goodbye sooner.
still, more time has passed apart than we ever spent together. more than that, even while we were together we spent more time apart than together. that on-again-off-again shit was pretty pointless, but the comfortable bed is always the easiest to lie in.
and it WAS easy. for both of us.
that was a road we fell down together. i've apologized enough. i told her once it was the last time and i meant it.
there's nothing left to be sorry about. now i think i'm just sorry FOR her.
xFx
maybe she doesn't WANT to heal. maybe moving on is an admittance of guilt to her. i wish she knew, like, REALLY knew that she was better off now. i wish she could be happy for me. i wish she was happy enough with herself to forget all the bullshit.
i wish she wouldn't try so hard to hate. now THAT's wasted energy.
here's a new piece, tentatively titled... i'll probably think of something better. it's rough, just a first draft. i'll look at it tomorrow and see a billion things that can be tightened up, but i really just want to get this out.
__________________________________________________________________________
Hate is just a cop out
a whisper caught at the back of the throat,
familiar phrases caught on crooked smiles and snaggleteeth;
a skipped breath or heartbeat later and everything's fine, everything's ok
on the surface.
smile, keep on smiling icicles like daggers.
no you're not grinding your teeth,
no you're not going to spontaneously combust,
no you won't tear his beating heart out his ribcage and eat it in front of his vacant eyes.
just breathe, remember the mantra:
years weren't wasted, they were learned from
years weren't wasted, they were learned from
years weren't wasted, they were learned from
learning wasn't wasted, they were years spent
on ghosts, failed plans...
blame him enough and maybe you can forget
that what he was scared of
was you.
blame him enough and maybe you can ignore
the part of you that still loves him.
____________________________________________________________________
if she reads this, i hope she knows i'm not bitter. i'm just trying to understand. i'm the first to admit i made mistakes. perhaps my biggest was not saying goodbye sooner.
still, more time has passed apart than we ever spent together. more than that, even while we were together we spent more time apart than together. that on-again-off-again shit was pretty pointless, but the comfortable bed is always the easiest to lie in.
and it WAS easy. for both of us.
that was a road we fell down together. i've apologized enough. i told her once it was the last time and i meant it.
there's nothing left to be sorry about. now i think i'm just sorry FOR her.
xFx
20100908
dirty hands, clean soul
once when i was about 12 or 13, we (a couple friends and i) came across the raddest tarantula ever, all grey-and-black and HUGE to me at the time. we, for reasons i still can't explain, proceeded to crush it with rocks.
this event haunts me still. i'll sit for many long minutes wondering what could have caused such a response. it wasn't threatening in the least. i never harmed another animal (unprovoked) after that, until a few years ago i broke my roommates nose. he was yelling at me in front of a bunch of people about the cat situation (i was trying to find homes for two litters of kittens and it was admittedly getting out of hand) and when i'd had enough, i drew a line. he flagrantly crossed it and got into my face, towering over me and something erupted inside me and i just proceeded to pummel him until several people pulled me off of him. more-so than the spider, this event often keeps me awake at nights.
where do these destructive impulses come from? i'm a pretty mellow guy, real hard to piss off. i may not always be a gentleman, but i'm usually a very gentle man. thank god for punk rock. who knows what kind of damage i might have done to myself and others without the catharsis of hardcore?
i have a deep well of rage within me, which i can usually channel into something positive. Frustration breeds change, after all, and Anger is a gift. Now if i only had the outlet i used to have... who wants to start a hardcore band with me? I wanna scream my throat raw.
here's some old shit from The Prodigal Heresy, my old band. yes, it's ugly. yes, it's in your face. yes it's vitriolic and bile-filled. and yes, it was beautiful. check the link if you wanna hear it.
_____________________________________________________________________________
It's Gonna be a harsh winter
as aries rises in the night sky, growing closer waxing full, the god of war paints our souls
the fires rage the mountains shake another tyrant has his way
the god of war prepares for the feast
pain is looming on the horizon
this ain't no age of aquarius look at the size of that damn star
the god of war raises his flag
blood is the wine of armageddon
kings toast each other across the battlefield
the god of war draws his sword
you who fly your flag so high, your prideful phallus in the sky: is it your only crutch? what about that cross around your neck?
when jesus said love your enemies he probably meant don't kill them you hypocrite.
(note: the title and song were both inspired by the nearness of mars that autumn. that, coupled with the death of my brother a month previous seemed like the worst of omens. i was right. that winter was tragic, a haze of alcohol and blood and vomit.)
The Legions of Hell (RIDE!)
RIDE!
Riding before the wings of fate, the sky is parting like the red sea
angel of death show no mercy
the sea shall run red with the blood of the flock
beware, they ride
giddyup, giddyup, giddyup, giddyup!
the legions of hell riding uranium gifts from god
plutonium caravans to the apocalypse
this is not the last time life will choke itself out
this is not the last time...
we have sought to become as gods
claiming mastery over life and death
every breath is a step closer to the end
I am the cause of your demise, I am Karma's vessel
dear your honor, the monuments you've built are marked for demolition. we will destroy everything you've erected, we'll light a torch and defile all that you stand for; when we're at your gates it's a witch hunt it's a witch hunt
you destroy everything beautiful without remorse. till the earth and sow your salt above the graves of the innocent
evil or strange, the differentiations you hold within your heart are like a chasm. "kill all that is not understood kill all that is not understood kill all that is not understood", you quench your self-righteous thirst with blood. one day you'll choke and we'll be there to watch you die. hide your face in shame as we're burning down your gates
it's your turn at the stake. we will piss in your ashes reverend.
The Eternal Death Sentinel
listen children
1 2 3 4 5th upon a time
a sailor's death at sea is the best we can hope for
the winds show no mercy and the end is but a heartbeat away
while you were waiting for the next change of wind
your mainsail has been broken
your crow's nest is no more
and you are taken by surprise.
the oars of time have caught up;
this is the salty taste of inevitability.
the missed opportunities and almost-maybes
are the anchors dragging you to the bottom.
the eternal death sentinel awaits your homecoming.
hold each moment like it's your last.
you'll wash up on the rocks (of) hades forsaken shores;
stranded in the afterlife without a compass.
you are lost because of your hesitation.
your lack of dedication to the rest of creation
will drown you in your own self-pity.
___________________________________________________________________________________
dang, now i'm kinda getting all nostalgic.
yeah, i had a lot to be pissed about. i still have a lot to be pissed about. all this reflection on the nature of violence and anger comes from reading the news. i've been loosely following the rhetoric surrounding the Islamic Cultural Center (note: it's NOT a fucking MOSQUE. it will be a community center with an INTERFAITH praying room) and can't help but find a lot of fodder for good hardcore in it. we had a few other songs, but these are the ones you can hear right now. if i ever feel like posting the rest of them to myspace, i might post the lyrics here at the same time.
or, if you'd like, i can make you a CD or e-mail you a zip-file or something similar. wish you could see the poster Kristina Colantes made for "In Case of an Emergency, Use This Song as a Flotation Device". that one was about the New Orleans situation after hurricane Katrina. In other news, Kristina has recently done work for The Flaming Lips, so that's pretty fucking cool. catch-phrase for that song was "keep your head up."
them's words to live by.
RAGE!!!!!
xFx
this event haunts me still. i'll sit for many long minutes wondering what could have caused such a response. it wasn't threatening in the least. i never harmed another animal (unprovoked) after that, until a few years ago i broke my roommates nose. he was yelling at me in front of a bunch of people about the cat situation (i was trying to find homes for two litters of kittens and it was admittedly getting out of hand) and when i'd had enough, i drew a line. he flagrantly crossed it and got into my face, towering over me and something erupted inside me and i just proceeded to pummel him until several people pulled me off of him. more-so than the spider, this event often keeps me awake at nights.
where do these destructive impulses come from? i'm a pretty mellow guy, real hard to piss off. i may not always be a gentleman, but i'm usually a very gentle man. thank god for punk rock. who knows what kind of damage i might have done to myself and others without the catharsis of hardcore?
i have a deep well of rage within me, which i can usually channel into something positive. Frustration breeds change, after all, and Anger is a gift. Now if i only had the outlet i used to have... who wants to start a hardcore band with me? I wanna scream my throat raw.
here's some old shit from The Prodigal Heresy, my old band. yes, it's ugly. yes, it's in your face. yes it's vitriolic and bile-filled. and yes, it was beautiful. check the link if you wanna hear it.
_____________________________________________________________________________
It's Gonna be a harsh winter
as aries rises in the night sky, growing closer waxing full, the god of war paints our souls
the fires rage the mountains shake another tyrant has his way
the god of war prepares for the feast
pain is looming on the horizon
this ain't no age of aquarius look at the size of that damn star
the god of war raises his flag
blood is the wine of armageddon
kings toast each other across the battlefield
the god of war draws his sword
you who fly your flag so high, your prideful phallus in the sky: is it your only crutch? what about that cross around your neck?
when jesus said love your enemies he probably meant don't kill them you hypocrite.
(note: the title and song were both inspired by the nearness of mars that autumn. that, coupled with the death of my brother a month previous seemed like the worst of omens. i was right. that winter was tragic, a haze of alcohol and blood and vomit.)
The Legions of Hell (RIDE!)
RIDE!
Riding before the wings of fate, the sky is parting like the red sea
angel of death show no mercy
the sea shall run red with the blood of the flock
beware, they ride
giddyup, giddyup, giddyup, giddyup!
the legions of hell riding uranium gifts from god
plutonium caravans to the apocalypse
this is not the last time life will choke itself out
this is not the last time...
we have sought to become as gods
claiming mastery over life and death
every breath is a step closer to the end
I am the cause of your demise, I am Karma's vessel
dear your honor, the monuments you've built are marked for demolition. we will destroy everything you've erected, we'll light a torch and defile all that you stand for; when we're at your gates it's a witch hunt it's a witch hunt
you destroy everything beautiful without remorse. till the earth and sow your salt above the graves of the innocent
evil or strange, the differentiations you hold within your heart are like a chasm. "kill all that is not understood kill all that is not understood kill all that is not understood", you quench your self-righteous thirst with blood. one day you'll choke and we'll be there to watch you die. hide your face in shame as we're burning down your gates
it's your turn at the stake. we will piss in your ashes reverend.
The Eternal Death Sentinel
listen children
1 2 3 4 5th upon a time
a sailor's death at sea is the best we can hope for
the winds show no mercy and the end is but a heartbeat away
while you were waiting for the next change of wind
your mainsail has been broken
your crow's nest is no more
and you are taken by surprise.
the oars of time have caught up;
this is the salty taste of inevitability.
the missed opportunities and almost-maybes
are the anchors dragging you to the bottom.
the eternal death sentinel awaits your homecoming.
hold each moment like it's your last.
you'll wash up on the rocks (of) hades forsaken shores;
stranded in the afterlife without a compass.
you are lost because of your hesitation.
your lack of dedication to the rest of creation
will drown you in your own self-pity.
___________________________________________________________________________________
dang, now i'm kinda getting all nostalgic.
yeah, i had a lot to be pissed about. i still have a lot to be pissed about. all this reflection on the nature of violence and anger comes from reading the news. i've been loosely following the rhetoric surrounding the Islamic Cultural Center (note: it's NOT a fucking MOSQUE. it will be a community center with an INTERFAITH praying room) and can't help but find a lot of fodder for good hardcore in it. we had a few other songs, but these are the ones you can hear right now. if i ever feel like posting the rest of them to myspace, i might post the lyrics here at the same time.
or, if you'd like, i can make you a CD or e-mail you a zip-file or something similar. wish you could see the poster Kristina Colantes made for "In Case of an Emergency, Use This Song as a Flotation Device". that one was about the New Orleans situation after hurricane Katrina. In other news, Kristina has recently done work for The Flaming Lips, so that's pretty fucking cool. catch-phrase for that song was "keep your head up."
them's words to live by.
RAGE!!!!!
xFx
20100828
dude, i never shoulda stopped playing with legos.
i used to change location at the drop of a hat. the slightest opening and i'd be there before the hat hit the floor. now there's leases. unpaid bills. coworkers i've watched grow up. bosses who've watched me grow into myself. friends that have gone out of their way to stay friends. i'd actually miss the place i was leaving for once. how weird is that?
how sad is it that if i was given the opportunity, i'd probably say no and spend countless nights awake hating myself for doing it (or NOT doing it, rather).
y'know what? fuck it. i'm a little too drunk for this, and tomorrow will be awesome (once i clock out), and sunday will be even better. awesomefest is next weekend and no one will believe i'm a day over 23. i'll be out of town and laughing like a kid for four or five days. i'll probably sleep through day 5. i'm not saying i won't laugh in my sleep. i'm also not saying i won't pump my fist in my sleep. preemptive apologies to C., who realized for the first time tonight that she's on a lease too and probably shouldn't pick up and move to another city, with OR without me. growing up sucks. i'm not the sort to start comparing our age differences with "i remember when" stories about my first true brush with the harsh realities of a "normal” life... which part of me still knows is bullshit and i should head to san diego a week early, party, then head to some country i’ve never been before with nothing but my guitar, the clothes on my back, and of course a pen and paper. and maybe whatever merch i pick up at awesomefest.
anyway, awesomefest will rule.
sorry to be such a downer. i tend to be sad when i think she might be sad, even though i know she’s even drunker than i. i’ve only had to retype a couple of these words. tomorrow she won’t remember what she’s upset about (hopefully). either way, some morning kisses and everything will be right as rain.
yeah, we’re as close to perfect as YOU’LL ever see.
xFx
how sad is it that if i was given the opportunity, i'd probably say no and spend countless nights awake hating myself for doing it (or NOT doing it, rather).
y'know what? fuck it. i'm a little too drunk for this, and tomorrow will be awesome (once i clock out), and sunday will be even better. awesomefest is next weekend and no one will believe i'm a day over 23. i'll be out of town and laughing like a kid for four or five days. i'll probably sleep through day 5. i'm not saying i won't laugh in my sleep. i'm also not saying i won't pump my fist in my sleep. preemptive apologies to C., who realized for the first time tonight that she's on a lease too and probably shouldn't pick up and move to another city, with OR without me. growing up sucks. i'm not the sort to start comparing our age differences with "i remember when" stories about my first true brush with the harsh realities of a "normal” life... which part of me still knows is bullshit and i should head to san diego a week early, party, then head to some country i’ve never been before with nothing but my guitar, the clothes on my back, and of course a pen and paper. and maybe whatever merch i pick up at awesomefest.
anyway, awesomefest will rule.
sorry to be such a downer. i tend to be sad when i think she might be sad, even though i know she’s even drunker than i. i’ve only had to retype a couple of these words. tomorrow she won’t remember what she’s upset about (hopefully). either way, some morning kisses and everything will be right as rain.
yeah, we’re as close to perfect as YOU’LL ever see.
xFx
20100826
lost, lost, lost
write write write write write until you start making sense. ignore the oppressive 90 degree heat that lingers all night like a jackal, a vulture, a scavenger waiting for you to finally succumb to madness. swallow the urge to sit on your porch and chainsmoke until your inner temperature equals the external, stewing in your own sweat like a slow-cooked ham, minus cloves, cause tobacco's better anyway. your throat is dry but your fingers don't require your voice. your eyes sting but you know where most of the keys are anyway. your head hurts, but the molasses-slow drip of thoughts is easing the pressure. it's turning to water, flowing downhill to the ocean's inevitable embrace where one drop is indecipherable from the others... you are trying to catch pterodactyls with fishnet stockings, but you can write the hosiery anyway you like it, make your own metaphors, draw your own comparisons based on things you've only heard of in dreams, half-remembered images that you can't relate but you must or you'll explode and then you'll never be able to sleep again, with a sieve mind dripping your thoughts onto the desktop; the echo will keep you awake forever.
don't stop, don't move from this spot, don't. even. breathe...
xFx
don't stop, don't move from this spot, don't. even. breathe...
xFx
20100818
5 years running
five more years will not make me miss him less.
five more years will not make me miss him less.
five more years will not make me miss him less.
five more years will not make me miss him less.
five more years will not make me miss him less.
my mantra as i recall his laughter, his voice, his arms around me like he knew it was the last time, his arms around me like he knew he'd see me soon, the similarities between the two. that was one thing about Nate: you always knew where you stood. or almost always. I feel a little guilty now and then for wanting more of him his last time stateside, but as the now-then chasm deepens, so does understanding. i'm pretty he sure he knew and wanted to be with everyone at once.
when my time comes will i sense it? will i sufficiently convey my appreciation for everyone i've known while i still can? should i not do it now? how to begin? like so:
i love YOU. yes, you. i may never have met you, and i may never willn't unless time is not so streamlined as we perceive it.. you may have known me for a short time, a long time, or for a short time a long time ago. You are loved.
After five years i may not be able to recall the feel of his scruff on my chest, but i can vividly remember the love for life and everything living that exuded from him constantly. it seems the only way to truly remember his memory is to keep it going.
R.I.P. Sgt. Nathan Kalani Bouchard
though i sometimes feel i may never recover, right now i am ok.
here's an album for him. one he would have loved, one he would have loved had he heard it.
Fugazi - Red Medicine
The Books - Lost and Safe
__________________________________________________________________________
Finding Comfort
his box remains sealed, they said,
due to the state of remains:
the embalming suffered several setbacks.
the stench of his charred flesh
must have been too close
to barbecue;
they had him
an extra week
(which pales next to
the extra months
he was deployed)
before they gave up and decided
to finish the job begun
in Samarra.
we signed
a paper
acknowledging
that his body is
incomplete.
i'm told i can take comfort in the probability
that he suffered no pain
and didn't have time to realize
he was killed,
but
five years later i am still
staring at his urn.
__________________________________________________________________________________
i miss you terribly, bro. i still don't know if i believe in an afterlife, but you visited me in my dreams the other night and wanted to know how i was doing really. i didn't know how to answer then, but now i'm certain that i'm actually pretty well, even if i still hurt; i've been playing through the pain as long as i can remember. sometimes little brothers teach big brothers something too, even if we don't get the chance to tell you until it's too late. I am in love and feeling good about myself and every thing (most things) around me. I wish you were a supporting character in this chapter of my life too instead of the shadow hanging over the plot from which the mood is derived. I have no idea if that sentence just made any sense, but i think you get it, maybe. maybe you can read what i've been really trying to say this entire paragraph because i simply can not find words anymore to express how scattered i sometimes feel, how unbalanced.
tonight you are heavy.
tomorrow will be easier.
!!!!!
-F.
five more years will not make me miss him less.
five more years will not make me miss him less.
five more years will not make me miss him less.
five more years will not make me miss him less.
my mantra as i recall his laughter, his voice, his arms around me like he knew it was the last time, his arms around me like he knew he'd see me soon, the similarities between the two. that was one thing about Nate: you always knew where you stood. or almost always. I feel a little guilty now and then for wanting more of him his last time stateside, but as the now-then chasm deepens, so does understanding. i'm pretty he sure he knew and wanted to be with everyone at once.
when my time comes will i sense it? will i sufficiently convey my appreciation for everyone i've known while i still can? should i not do it now? how to begin? like so:
i love YOU. yes, you. i may never have met you, and i may never willn't unless time is not so streamlined as we perceive it.. you may have known me for a short time, a long time, or for a short time a long time ago. You are loved.
After five years i may not be able to recall the feel of his scruff on my chest, but i can vividly remember the love for life and everything living that exuded from him constantly. it seems the only way to truly remember his memory is to keep it going.
R.I.P. Sgt. Nathan Kalani Bouchard
though i sometimes feel i may never recover, right now i am ok.
here's an album for him. one he would have loved, one he would have loved had he heard it.
Fugazi - Red Medicine
The Books - Lost and Safe
__________________________________________________________________________
Finding Comfort
his box remains sealed, they said,
due to the state of remains:
the embalming suffered several setbacks.
the stench of his charred flesh
must have been too close
to barbecue;
they had him
an extra week
(which pales next to
the extra months
he was deployed)
before they gave up and decided
to finish the job begun
in Samarra.
we signed
a paper
acknowledging
that his body is
incomplete.
i'm told i can take comfort in the probability
that he suffered no pain
and didn't have time to realize
he was killed,
but
five years later i am still
staring at his urn.
__________________________________________________________________________________
i miss you terribly, bro. i still don't know if i believe in an afterlife, but you visited me in my dreams the other night and wanted to know how i was doing really. i didn't know how to answer then, but now i'm certain that i'm actually pretty well, even if i still hurt; i've been playing through the pain as long as i can remember. sometimes little brothers teach big brothers something too, even if we don't get the chance to tell you until it's too late. I am in love and feeling good about myself and every thing (most things) around me. I wish you were a supporting character in this chapter of my life too instead of the shadow hanging over the plot from which the mood is derived. I have no idea if that sentence just made any sense, but i think you get it, maybe. maybe you can read what i've been really trying to say this entire paragraph because i simply can not find words anymore to express how scattered i sometimes feel, how unbalanced.
tonight you are heavy.
tomorrow will be easier.
!!!!!
-F.
20100815
Growing Up, Growing Sideways
I'll never understand people who complain about their significant others. If they make you so miserable, leave. Right?
Right? Anyone? I grow so tired of feeling like the only rational person around when it comes to relationships. I'm not just talking about love-life-type relationships either, but also friendships. I just can't seem to wrap my mind around so-called friendships that seem entirely based on putting each other down. Perhaps it's a self-esteem issue, or perhaps it's just some brain disorder. Maybe it's a societal after-effect on a generation raised by the television.
Whatever. I'm no psychologist. I'm just a dude happy in his relationships, surrounded by loving/supportive people. What do I know?
________________________________________________________________________
Growing Up, Growing Sideways (V. 1.3)
yeah, i do what i want and on my own time
so i guess i'm doing alright,
cuz everyone around me's still trying to fit
into expectations three sizes too big.
she's drunk and
bitching about having to wear that ring when it's hot and
her hands are swelling like sausages
and "jesus christ when do the kids go back to school
where they can bully other kids all day
instead of me?"
he's drunk and
swearing that if she don't stop
nagging he'll really leave for good this time
and to hell with the lease and "she wants to get off
the pill but i ain't about to start wearing rubbers,
so i guess i'll be proposing soon enough."
they're
spinning tires at one million RPMs,
gettin' that rut nice and deep before
stalling.
i'm drunk too, but at least i can walk home from here
and tomorrow i can sleep
through my hangover.
-xFTHMx-
__________________________________________________________________
That's just a few of my more lucid reflections on the phenomena. As my 31st birthday approaches, closely followed by my second anniversary, I find myself wondering how I wasted so much time on people who weren't even worth the breath it took to say good bye. Growing old kicks ass, even if my belly's a little softer than it used to be. Growing up on the other hand still holds no appeal to me and hopefully never will. Like Seven Seconds, I'm gonna stay young until I die. How could I ever do otherwise?
Today I'm going to drink a lot of beer and Tiltwheel will rock my face, and The French Exit will make me happier than I've been all week. I will be hoarse for days, not because I've been shouting AT someone, but rather WITH someone, and that's just about the best thing that could ever happen.
!!!!!
johnny.
Right? Anyone? I grow so tired of feeling like the only rational person around when it comes to relationships. I'm not just talking about love-life-type relationships either, but also friendships. I just can't seem to wrap my mind around so-called friendships that seem entirely based on putting each other down. Perhaps it's a self-esteem issue, or perhaps it's just some brain disorder. Maybe it's a societal after-effect on a generation raised by the television.
Whatever. I'm no psychologist. I'm just a dude happy in his relationships, surrounded by loving/supportive people. What do I know?
________________________________________________________________________
Growing Up, Growing Sideways (V. 1.3)
yeah, i do what i want and on my own time
so i guess i'm doing alright,
cuz everyone around me's still trying to fit
into expectations three sizes too big.
she's drunk and
bitching about having to wear that ring when it's hot and
her hands are swelling like sausages
and "jesus christ when do the kids go back to school
where they can bully other kids all day
instead of me?"
he's drunk and
swearing that if she don't stop
nagging he'll really leave for good this time
and to hell with the lease and "she wants to get off
the pill but i ain't about to start wearing rubbers,
so i guess i'll be proposing soon enough."
they're
spinning tires at one million RPMs,
gettin' that rut nice and deep before
stalling.
i'm drunk too, but at least i can walk home from here
and tomorrow i can sleep
through my hangover.
-xFTHMx-
__________________________________________________________________
That's just a few of my more lucid reflections on the phenomena. As my 31st birthday approaches, closely followed by my second anniversary, I find myself wondering how I wasted so much time on people who weren't even worth the breath it took to say good bye. Growing old kicks ass, even if my belly's a little softer than it used to be. Growing up on the other hand still holds no appeal to me and hopefully never will. Like Seven Seconds, I'm gonna stay young until I die. How could I ever do otherwise?
Today I'm going to drink a lot of beer and Tiltwheel will rock my face, and The French Exit will make me happier than I've been all week. I will be hoarse for days, not because I've been shouting AT someone, but rather WITH someone, and that's just about the best thing that could ever happen.
!!!!!
johnny.
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