I need a freakin band and I need it yesterday

January 31, 2006 at 6:20 pm (Uncategorized)

This town is soooooo tough I tell you. Just when I think Im about to get
started something (curse those somethings) gets in the way. I dont play an
instrument so I need to collaborate with people to bring my songs to
fruition. It seems there are no available musicians in this town unless you
want to sell your *#!@ or your &*# take your pick. Neither of which Im
interested in.

Im just a lonely writer who needs some producer/engineer/musician with a
vision like mine. If I have to do one more Open Mic a cappella Ill kill
myself.

I feel so frustrated.

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Nostalgia that fucking back breaker and freedom

January 31, 2006 at 1:06 am (Uncategorized)

and then there are those memories of how a thing felt or smelled and let me
tell you something...its enough to send a person into timewarp speed o rama.

But the good news is I feel finally like the things that have haunted me are
disepating. Maybe Ive had it in me all along. But for the first time in
about my whole life and especially the last 6 years I feel like its ok to
move on. Its ok to leave behind the experiences that make me who I am.
Doesnt make them less important. Or mean I loved them any less but only that
I have to go now and I cant carry all the baggage. Im really tired of
holding on. Waiting. Wondering. Worrying. Anticipating and hiding from
things. Ive been who Ive been. Seen what Ive seen. No one can take from me
all the memories, the love, the hate or the fear. Its mine and always will
be so, I keep putting it all on its permanent shelf in my past. I can maybe
take a visit from time to time. But I dont want to carry it anymore. There
is some sense of heaving that comes along with letting a thing(s) go. Its
sour relief really. And some hesitation. An urge to relent but I think Im
willing to ignite it all in a massive blaze for freedom. I never knew you
can have your feelings about somethings and not be handcuffed to them. Its a
strange new concept for me. Being able to separate it all... Emotions from
my judgements, Emotions from reactions and turn them into actions instead.
Takes a bit of practice. But It really makes things easier. Im so fucking
emotional you know and sensitive. But its time to grow up. Im 30 years old.
I have to take some respopnsibility for the rest of my life if I want to get
anywhere so here goes....no more resistance. I want to get on with it.

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And what of beauty…

January 29, 2006 at 10:17 pm (Uncategorized)

When one must live up to it?

I love Charles Bukowski. I love the matter of fact way he describes in life
the the things most people try not to say. And the simplified way in which
he renders an emotion or reaction uneventful. Although I dont care much for
his treatment of women, I have to applaud how he finds a way to express that
which the average, jaded, soiciopathic, alcoholic, asshole cannot or would
not attempt to. The apathy!!! Oh the apathy! The blissful, freedom giving
apathy gives way to the torturous absence of feeling when a person has at
once felt too deeply. In his books I perceive a lost mans unconcious,
indirect attempt at rediscovering a sensation and fails miserably,
repeatedly as hes just looking slightly to the left of what hes seeking.
Somewhere he knows it. But its the fear, buried beneath resistance, that
creates apathy, and builds a wall, behind which we can hide, then elude our
lives much like he did. He tried to reignite his passions with pen, only to
stifle them again with liquor driven apathy. Its the curse of the artist.
They all have passion too big for themselves. It needs to be expressed and
for some its just too painful. So what about this is beautiful? Is it his
stories most vulgar but so poetically written? Is it the personification of
the less than average mans plight? Or is it the fact that he is not what he
seemed? Sometimes beneath his vulgarity you can see it. In momentary
glimmers of well written word you can sense his appreciation of those things
which pleased him. In his repetitive descriptions of the only things he
noticed over and over, you envision a man trying so hard to feel something
new. But sadly finding still just his apathy; the old friend that keeps the
hurt out. And what of his obvious doubt about being worthy of the
recognition he received? He feels less than average and is compelled to
write anyway. He feels like a fraud and writes anyway. He feels like this
life is a joke and a waste of time and writes anyway. I find somewhere
beneath all of that nothing, was something, hidden only from himself and not
from those of us who see between the lines. An appreciation of his work by
those of us who find ourselves in another persons willingness to express the
things they cannot suppress, even if it means they have to become numb in
order to do it.  Is it beautiful to find inspiration in the suffering of
another man? I think it ironic that beauty lies in the unintended permission
one recieves from a person who could help not but be himself, (despite how
bad his self was) to be themselves also. And so it goes that the tortured
souls in the line of fire pave the way for the silent ones. The burden of
being one of them splashed accross the chopping block just so everyone else
can find their own voice. What a sacrifice. And as each one of us has our
own crosses to bear we find solace in knowing that others do too. But how
would we know if they never spoke of it. So bless, not curse, those willing
to expose themselves to the hoard of stone clad assasins. Blessed are the
ones who carve the way. Find beauty in the expression of art no matter how
offensive it may seem, as there is honesty in that which offends; and in
honesty there is beauty.

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9 more weeks to freedom

January 27, 2006 at 7:23 pm (Uncategorized)

So they say if I do this and that I will be free. If I have some faith in
the magic of synchronicity What I desire will be mine. If I am open to it I
will recieve. So I am open and waiting and ready to recieve this and that
and the other thing too. I wonder how long it will take. I wonder how long I
will have to wait. I wonder if its true that for all the pain in the
universe there is equally as much joy and if it be true that what you focus
on gets bigger and I can choose to focus on the answers then I guess thats
what Ill do for now. So I do the little tasks Im instructed. I try not worry
too much about life. I think I fail miserably most of the time but Im doing
my best and Im trying to remain open. Im trying and willing and doing these
things. I dont believe in GOD but I do. I dont believe in Hell although Ive
been there many times. So I guess I can have some heaven if I so choose and
I think I might try it since I got these new attitude.(picked it up at the
local A & P by the way)

I learning to be ok with my paranoid Bipolar episodes. I told myself today
that it adds to my charm. That really its kind of "colorful" and makes me
more interesting. I decided to focus on that rather than the prospect of my
actually being crazy; seeing as how "what you focus on gets bigger". Its
kind of like yellow jeep syndrome I guess. Once you get one you see them
everywhere. So Instead of the crazies...Ive got the funnies? Whatever, it
works so far and I definitely feel better. And the better I feel the better
you feel cause let me tell you something.... my wrath stretches farther that
I ever thought it could and I just dont want to be responsible for spreading
the crazies around like herpes at a drive in.

So Im holding on to 9 more weeks to freedom. Freedom from all the awful shit
that goes on in my head. Im trying to change it each time another voice
chimes in with some other brilliant message to me. Seems so far its been
working. Ill keep you posted.

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Too bad so sad

January 25, 2006 at 5:40 pm (Uncategorized)

You know some people just have no concept of how the words they use can lacerate another person thouroughly. How the decisions they make really do impact the other people in their life, even the ones who only have merely a little toe in their life. Some persons take for granted that another may just always be lingering on, around in their lunar space just because they love them enough to tarry there and check in periodically. The sojourn is the cord of a connection long since buried perhaps, but in tact none the less. A persons willingness to abuse it can be so devastating for the one who receives the back of the hand. Because honestly that is what it feels like to be told your partner in cord will be “withdrawling” there association with you. Am I worth this snap decision I ask myself? Am I only this valuable? In less than the moment it would take to blink, my fate as a figment of memory can be decided on by a man whom I once would have given my life for without thinking about it. Am I surprised I ask myself? I dont think so. Have I been guilty of dolling out the same treatment? If Im honest with myself Ill say yes. I feel the disappointment in mine own past excercises of will and so pose the question…..
When, then….does a person begin to make the decisions in their life independent of the misleading, often irrational emotions posing the question in the first place?
And then, if its is so, that we make decisions based on those emotions; how do we ever really know that what we decided is truth?
If we decide based on a sense of what feels “safe” and based on our own deluded notions of safety…(considering “Safety” is a complete illusion, and the one thing in life you should actually be working away from), how does one ever know how wrong they really were? How does one realize all the missed opportunities, all the times they should have moved ahead through the fear to the other side with their desires in tact, instead of making the decisions to step away and deny themselves what could be fantastical. How many times do you turn away from an opportunity to love, or be free, or live your way, so you can indulge the part of you who needs security?

…then he who finds it in all the wrong things. He who thinks he is “good”, upon the reflection of his life finds he only saw what kept his fears at bay and NEVER what was an honest expression of himself.

I dont want this to be me. I dont want to pity the one who is him either, but I do want to be concious from now on that I do not unintentionally devastate a person whom is reflecting to me the things I fear just on that basis. For he may be the one who will save me. He may be the one who gives me the missing piece of myself Ive been looking for all along. I will watch my “Opinions” and “Judgements” of even the things I believe I understand. Because the truth is my perception is always limited. You never know everything there is to know about a thing even when youve seen it for yourself. As it is true that anything in existence is an infinite prism of facets that can never be completely revealed. It is also true that sight, sound, and touch are influenced by perception and in this fact lies the fascinating discovery that nothing is ever only what it seems to you, but will be everything it is perceived to be by anyone or thing that happens to perceive it.
I want to reach the point in my life when it is not my limited, human, fearful, mind that dictates the course my life will take but instead become willing to allow myself to float up to and through anything Im meant to encounter, no matter the fright involved, and in doing so find what Ive been missing. Whatever it happens to be.

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another late night

January 25, 2006 at 1:58 am (Uncategorized)

I spent fifteen minutes today inside a church alone. The woman at the office
desk unlocked the door for me and let me in.  She said the lights in the
chapel werent working but if I could please turn off the entry light when I
left that would be fine and she left me by myself inside.

Ive never been alone inside a huge church before. Im not religious. In fact
Im Agnostic. But there is something about any room thats full of anyones God
that makes me feel something when I otherwise dont. I sat in there for about
20 minutes. I put my face down on the banister. I knelt at it.  I looked at
the stained glass. I took in the cold air. I felt the presence of a borrowed
God and I felt no fear. I felt no tangible emotion. I felt no pain either.
In fact, for about 20 minutes while all I could here were the cars outside
echoing off the cathedral ceilings I felt the absense of emotion, and by
that I also mean the sensation of pain. I felt that it didnt matter that I
dont believe in anything in particular. That all that mattered was that I
needed to be there. And that my Source; because it loves me; will where any
costume I can hear at the moment; and if that just so happens to be in a
room I dont even believe in thats fine with me. They all have a window I can
see through. It was the United Methodist Church on Highland and Franklin in
Hollywood. I dont know why that woman let me into a locked church. I dont
even know why I went there. I dont feel different. But It stuck with me all
day. It stuck with me as I was cursing the chick in the bathroom at the
laugh factory later after my *th shot of tequila. Its sticking with me now
as I type this and all I can say is thank you GOD....for spell check because
did I mention I had * shots of tequila........?

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Supercilious Magic….black, blue and otherwise

January 22, 2006 at 12:06 pm (Uncategorized)

Yeah Im cursed by you you old fat incredulous mother fucker
dont even start with me or Ill put a spell on you thats keeps you monogamous.

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its not all nonfiction

January 21, 2006 at 10:52 pm (Uncategorized)

I miss a piece of you I never actually knew
Something I think I made up in my mind

No matter really no matter whatever
Cause I like my dream better than reality

I can’t believe how’s the flame of my missing you
When I never had you to begin with
It’s the blazing inferno of a one night’s sweet union
And the struggle of knowing the truth

I have a feeling like I actually know you
That I know how you take your eggs in the morning

But I don’t really know even how you take coffee
But just that you know how to cry

I get arrested by the need in my gut for you
How my body reacts to the sight of your face
How it feels in my gut when you’re walking away from me
How it feels when somebody mentions your name

I think you may know just a little of me
That perhaps you know how I like to drink tea

You make fun of the fact that I run almost everyday
And laugh as you blow your smoke in my face

But I can’t see all my life spent without you
So I dream of you, think of you, fix our memory in place
And like some tortured soul I hold onto the hope of you
And even though I believe that we are better apart…
I can’t stop comparing everyone to your grace.

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I have green eyes, green hair and a….

January 21, 2006 at 7:40 pm (Uncategorized)

Green heart.
For all of you who know not the interpretation for this analogy it means:
Im Jealous. Im jealous of the life I live in my head everyday for it does
not match the one here. That is real.
Im jealous of the other me who knows joy and love and reprieve. Im green at
the thought that shes better than me.
Maybe if I can just dot her with glue I can stick her to me and then stick
her to you.
And then once were all stuck together with care
in hopes that St Nicholas soon will be there
we can live happily ever after like a good threesome might do
and have Christmas and Hanukkah and live in a shoe
maybe youll like her shes alot like me too... except
she doesnt hate me
and she wont want to hurt you
shes bright and shes clean
and shes gentil and fun
so Ill stick her with glue and have oh so much fun
maybe shell notice Im not really that sweet
but no one will tell her will they?
no no or they'll meet
a very untimely death maybe poppy's
lions and tigers and bears oh my me
so hmmmmm Ive lost my train of thought how fitting
The flu and a full glass of wine who'm I kidding
rambling on and on and on and on and on
with visions of sugarplums dance on their #@*&s....
Sweet sweet December january march april november
I love to say nonsense I think Im so clever
Im going to stop now because this is getting retarded....

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hmmmmmmmm

January 18, 2006 at 11:00 pm (Uncategorized)

Jeez Fu*8 god DAM*^T @hrIST AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

I’m slamming my hands into my keyboard right now and I’m gonna throw it into the wall.
I’m so irritated.
NO! I take that back I’m freaking pissed off.
I’m pissed because for reasons none other than I’m so sick of my freakin busy head. I love to write and I write because it makes me feel better. I write everyday. All the time. Inbetween clients at work; At home on the computer; When I’m alone; When I have guests; On random loose pieces of paper; In notebooks; Emails; Journals; In traffic. I even have a voice recorder that I keep with me to record random cerebration when my hands aren’t free… ;p OH MY GOD! I can’t stop, I have to do it. But even so…at the unending pace with which I put my thoughts to paper or tape, I never stop having them. I can’t keep up. I can’t type that fast, speak that fast, scream that loud. Or sit that still. I have to sleep for the love of god. And I don’t a good most of the time. I wake up in the night. I wander when people are talking to me. One subject leads to another and another and another until I’m caught by the realization that I’ve been pondering my own speculations to what’s been said about 10 topics ago.
I think they make medication for this don’t they?
Well no matter. I wouldnt take it anyway.
I guess Ill just keep typing away. Until I cant type anymore.

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