Sunday, May 29

My Tongue in Situations Like These

I want coffee - So I brew.
The maker grumbles, spurts, and coughs like a sick animal plodding along in some autumnal migration until the mechanism finally gives out with a steam-filled wheeze. All of these applicances were bought to match the white of the tile, but all it really does is make the darkness of the coffee seem deeper than actual.

I want texture
- So I stir.

Rolling clouds and tiny white hail, separate spoons overturning the ocean, sifting the bottom and ringing the sides. What once was empty is poured to black, until I add the things I feel are missing
...and then it looks like you.
How many years ago did I write that line -- the one that seemed so simple and pure, the one that refreshes it's own memory every morning whether I want it to or not?

It's no secret that everything reminds. There's no escape from the you that's in me, or the me that finds himself longing in the middle of the night. In these fine spaces between too much time together and the wishing that we had never come apart. Like the colors that fill and stain the grout between the tiles on the counter, they stay behind the sponge when it sweeps left to right, dead to rights, down the drain.

Addicted to the bitter
- I pour it over again.

For everything that I've stepped out of myself to try to create, for every string of blue lights I've stapled to the walls of my restoration there has been something else that I'm not expecting or anywhere ready to deal with. These emotional inevitables, these seemingly happenstance episodes that don't always seem to hold up to the light of the next day, but won't be denied when the moment is in the mirror.

And so I get angry. And then I get sad, followed by freaked out and lonely. I buy bottles to drown myself in, and new clothes to hide behind. I answer the calls I don't expect, I tap numbers into letters that I hope don't make me sound desperate, and I sing Depeche Mode out loud - much to the confusion of a jealous and possessive kitten who turns around twice before curling up to sleep on the hat you bought me to apologize for that retarded fight we had about Poison.

I want coffee
- so I        
..Wait, where is my coffee?
Have you ever done that? Am I the only one? I spend all this time thinking about it and putting my time and effort into something, but when I actually sit down to enjoy it it's nowhere to be found.

I look around the room in disbelief, knowing that I've probably left it on the counter.

Last night I called you. Last night you answered me. In the end it was the same answer to the same question I always ask, except that it was totally different this time (if that makes any sense at all). The echoes left me with questions and confusion, as I'm sure it did for you.

Not wanting to sleep, I touched old photographs of your hand on mine and my lips on yours. Right or wrong, the drink warmed me inside, stunted my growth, and kept me awake until my skin flushed red and I spilled it all over the floor.
Here is a plea from my heart to you
Nobody knows me as well as you do
You know how hard it is for me
to shake the disease
That takes a hold of...
[Listening to: Garbage, "Run Baby Run"]

Saturday, May 28

Actually Spoken During the Course of My Evening

Friend of a friend: "Jeez, I completely forgot where I parked - I've probably had you driving in circles this whole time!"
Friend: "What? How could you forget that?"
Friend of a friend: "I just got off the phone with this really hot guy, so I'm still in that place where my mind is like a total flutter."
Me: "Well here, talk to me for a while -- it'll bring you back to earth so we can find your friggin' car"
[Listening to: MSI, "Dicks Are For My Friends"]

Friday, May 27

Oil Puddles in the Rain

Maybe it all comes down to this.

Take all of the sadness, all of the lonliness, the comparisons, the misunderstandings, the anger, and the unforgiving sunbright of the long mornings after. Stir them all into an ice-filled glass that slowly melts into a multi-color suspension I ignore while staring out the window into the darkness.

The moon rises the hour, followed by a son who appears to wash the stars out of the background and into the light.

When you're younger you think that they go away.

But then you grow up.
You make your mistakes,
and from them you try to learn.
Maybe it all comes down to this:
I miss you.
..and I probably always will.
[Listening to: Zero 7, "Destiny"]

Wednesday, May 25

Lunatic Fringe

Watch the boat sink. Pour and stir. Write and delete. Leave a message after the beep. Write and delete. Tilt and swallow. Write and delete. Sing Nothingface at the top of your lungs. Tilt and swallow. Check for replies. Get on the phone, spill it out. Try to sleep. Tilt and swallow. Write and Delete.

Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace
Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace
Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace
Pace Pace Pace Pace Pace
Pace Pace Pace Pace
Pace Pace Pace
Pace Pace


Know it's not doing you any good. Know that this is what the real problem always was. Know that this is really what you've got to rise above and fix.
Rinse, mix, repeat.
[Listening to: Minor Threat, "In My Eyes"]

Tuesday, May 24

No New Tale To Tell

Pretty much my day, presented by aliens
...with beer.
[Listening to: Janes Addiction, "Pigs in Zen (Live)"]

Function is the Key

It's the sitting still that kills you. These small hours all alone, feline sleep just above your head - speaking messages you put too much worth into, and in turn think that you don't want to hear.

Shut out the voices,
Plug up the holes,
Doesn't this spinning ever stop?
The worst part of it all is when you start to see shards of light breaking the darkness all around only to realize that the eclipse is the result of your hands over your own eyes; Mizaru, Kikazaru, Iwazaru.
It's just a question, isn't it?
Trip of the tongue and a well-worn smile?
Isn't this what you wanted (or didn't you know)?
Just when you think that you're alright,
I'm crawling out from the inside
I never hurt anyone
I never listen at all...
[Listening to: Fugazi, "Repeater"]

Sunday, May 22

He's the Brains, Sweetheart!

:: how jedi are you? ::
[Listening to: Lene Lovich, "New Toy"]

Saturday, May 21

Actually Spoken During the Course of My Evening

"In retrospect, hillbilly nakedness would probably have been a lot better than crying clown face pictures hanging on the wall of a bar anyday."
[Listening to: Killing Joke, "Money is Not Our God"]

Friday, May 20

Teenager of the Year

Last night reached this weird sort of point where offhand unanswered phone quotes and buried alive CSI's worked together to create this sort of weird darkness inside me that I really didn't feel like sitting alone and dealing with. So I pulled on a semi-clean pair of jeans, grabbed my keys, and headed south in search of cheap drinks, distractions, or whatever.

I ended up at this longstanding local dive bar sitting by a hospital. It was mostly empty -- but the drinks were cheap and the people seemed nice enough. A couple of people were throwing darts, the Supersonics were on the big screen, and if nothing else, it seemed a lot more welcoming at the time than the echoes off the walls from my apartment.

It wasn't anywhere close to heaven, but
it was good enough for a Thursday night.
About halfway through the third quarter, one of the three ladies sitting at this table across the floor from mine got up and programmed a bunch of obscure Frank Black songs into the CD jukebox that was leaning against the wall.

Either people didn't notice, or people didn't care.

Me, I felt like it was an odd kind of choice. Unique, unexpected, maybe even a possible topic for conversation if I'd felt any sort of real need to expouse my pointed and possibly biased opinions about Frank and his former band the Pixies (whom I adore) and the way they truly pussed out and let me down that one time at The Moon in Tallahassee.

...But I didn't.
Nor did I search for lessons or meanings in the motions. I just finished my beer, headed back outside, and drove back home.

Today's the last day of school.
      Today's the last day of school.
[Listening to: Supersuckers, "Pretty Fucked Up"]

Wednesday, May 18


Quite possibly the most important thing you'll see in your lifetime
[Listening to: Jamiroquai, "Feels Just Like It Should"]

Tuesday, May 17


Five years ago today, I held you in my hands for the first time. Five years ago today, my whole life changed. I can't say I've always done the right thing, or the best things -- and there's still volumes of the world that I have yet to learn and discover.

But one thing I know for sure: I'm a better man because of you.

No bout a doubt it.
Happy Birthday, Curren.
[Listening to: Slipknot, "Eyeless"]

Sunday, May 15

Basically Avoiding the Dishes

It's just one of those lazy, lonely mornings; shaking off the headache from a night of prowling and trying half-heartedly to get my day off the snooze bar and out of the bed. I was supposed to help a buddy pressurewash his house, but he woke up sick and bailed. It's probably a good thing considering that manual labor and jager breath are rarely an effective combination -- but it leaves me sort of up too early for my own good, looking for direction or distraction, whichever comes first.

There's a pile of dishes I really need to get to, but it's been suprisingly easy all morning to pretend that they're not there. I'll get to them soon enough, but right now it just seems like the last thing worth doing.

The problem is that this sense of malaise is getting all over the place, like dust frosting the tops of a bookshelf. I mean, Godzilla vs. Megalon is on the tube just begging me to sit down and watch it for the billionth time. It's just that as much as I love that flick with all of it's Jet Jaguar silliness, it's one of those things that doesn't quite seem the same anymore...

What I should really do is just get out of this place, maybe even run or something. The only thing is that I got in 6 miles yesterday, and I don't usually like to do back to back days. Still, the sun is out and it's shaping up to be a goregeous day. I'd go surfing (are there waves? - I have no idea), but I had to sell my board for extra cash when I moved out which kinda kills that plan, ya know?

Jeez, listen to me bitch.
The good news is that my tax return came in (such as it is) which might allow me a chance to pick up this drum machine that I've been eyeing, and now that I've got all the guitars and stuff set up and working, I might be able to get some music made in here pretty soon.

..Bah, enough of this.
Time to scrape some plates.
[Listening to: Deep Inner Voices, "FU, MF!"]

Friday, May 13

How Can You Have Any Pudding if You Haven't Eaten Your Meat?

Somedays it's all you can do NOT to clock somebody over the head with a stapler.

We're basically at the end of our school year and the teachers on my team are culling together votes for superlative awards (best overall, most improved, best dressed, yada yada yada) - you know, just one of those silly things you do when kids reach the end of the line and get ready to move on to the next school.

So I collect some names here and there and then I head over to our science teacher -- this total career educator/administrator battleaxe; and when I ask her who she'd like to nominate for "Most Likely to Succeed," she acts like it's the biggest hassle in the world and then actually says to me:

"We put entirely too much time and effort into
making these kids feel good about themselves."

It basically took every bit of professionalism
I had to keep me from going into the parking lot
right then and there and egging her fucking car.
[Listening to: The Cribs, "Mirror Kissers"]

Wednesday, May 11


The night calls no obstace to invisible suns, chiming red shoes, or the smile that gives away my intentions to anyone, if indeed anyone were here with me at all. This place I slumber between playgrounds and my own private Île du Diable.

Here I lie, measuring my days with coffee spoons, spending the moments like change inbetween the hunt for deep blue pappion and the tearing open of messages sent to me in bottles on the water.
Slave to the tides
                   tied to a string
Everything a reminder, nothing escapes the flax. From the quiet of the nights all alone to the second-guessing of whispers deep in the dark, spun around like whirlpool by ceiling fan blades above my head, like the eyes of an airplane slowly headed straight down.

I have escaped the solitary confinement of couch cushions only to find myself here, wondering if I could have decided this any differently, tried something harder, or grown the fuck up instead of holding my breath and stamping my feet.

These nights will come, I know. Just as I know that these nights are of my own making. This place has a door, and that door has a key. A key that fits easily in my palm, needing only to be turned, needing only to be used in the way that it was intended.

But for tonight I remain Charrière on the cliffside,
watching the
water roll down.
[Listening to: Danko Jones, "Lovercall"]

Tuesday, May 10


Tonight when I get home from work I've got to feed my kitten, throw away some dead flowers, and swiffer the floor.

*reads back*
Er, that's all before I get ready to um... head BACK out and kill myself up a bunch of ninjas with a broken beer bottle and then smack up some hos.

[Listening to: Peaches w/Iggy Pop, "Kick It"]

Monday, May 9

Clearly James' Camera is Better Than Mine

many thanks to Mayor McCheese, this was fun!

Book Meme tagback for James
(courtesy of Alexandria), from me.

1. Total number of books in your house:
Bloody hell, who knows. I moved into this place almost a month ago, but I only just unpacked the books and got them set up last week. The shelves are stacked a couple of layers deep, and what (among other things) the picture doesn't show is that there's a stack of novels and things that I couldn't jam in there stacked vertically beside the shelf. Not to mention I also have a bunch of titles from my collection stored in my classroom at the school so I can show the kids the kinds of things that I like to read when we discuss such things. If I had to guess, I might say I have like 150-200 books floating around my possesion.

2. The last book you bought was:
There's this tiny used bookstore in St. Nicholas that I used to go to whenever I dropped in on this guitar/electronics shop called Active Electronics. When tragedy struck and they shut that place down, I kinda lost touch with The Old Book Shop. But just 2 weeks ago I spent about an hour or so wandering through their shelves and found a hardback copy of Delta of Venus by Anais Nin. But the absolute best part of trip came when I stumbled across this absolutley gorgeous 1947 clothbound reprint of Omar Khayyam's original Rubaiyat complete with full-color plates for just ten bucks!

3. The last book you finished was:
I've had so many outside things going on in my life that it's been really hard to keep up with all the reading that I say I'm going to do. I try to have set reading times in my class where everyone (including myself) reads from a novel, but lately I've been skipping out on my own assignment as I try to sew up all this end of year paperwork. Still, just last week I was able to finish up Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas which I read about once a year, because I love it so much. Before that though I absolutley TORE through Cintra Wilson's latest, Colors Insulting to Nature which utterly rocked the casbah, and everyone should pick up a copy and read it NOW.

4. 5 books you often read or that mean a lot to you:
As much as I love discovering new writers and ideas, I'm a habitual re-reader, and probably always will be. Like I said above, I just got through Fear and Loathing, and if I get the time I'll probably go back through some of the books that I'm always dog-earing and running to for inspiration or quotes from, like Gatsby, Alice in Wonderland, Kerouac's On The Road, The Nick Adams Stories by Hemmingway, and various titles from McInerney, Palahniuk, and Murakami.

5. Who you're going to pass this along to and why:
Hopefully a lot of people will pick up this ball and run with it. I have so many friends that are great readers (and writers) that it's always fun to talk shop.
So come on and bring it, yo!
[Listening to: Breaking Benjamin, "Polyamorous"]

Sunday, May 8


Why, why, why do I care?

Why does it get so far under my skin that I can see the color like the run of a pulsing vein? What is has become, and what comes is indeed. Shouldn't that be enough?

I'll teach you, Ma'am, that Heaven's contradictions,
Give latitude to men of pure convictions.

So tortured and pure, so righteous in these wounds; is that what this mirror calls to thine eye? If so, then turn it to the wall and stare into the blackback, for I am the doctor in spite of himself, I am Moliere backstage at the Scottish play, I am a man hiding behind his sunglasses; standing in this same room again, asking those same questions that he doesn't really want the answers to at all.

A pious man made study of a science,
In which, through other paths, one finds compliance,
Enabling us to balance indiscretion,
Against the zeal of one's professed repression.

Last night I took shots to the jaw and wrenched my shoulder hard against the bodies of strangers slamming to a beat that roared like a train uncontrolled.

I'll teach to you of science' subtle ways,
To clear your conscience and to ease your days.

There was release, there was joy. Bright lights and crowded sweat, nothing mattered more than the jump. Nothing existed other than the rhythm, the volume, or the night.

For now though, let us finish what we started,
If sin there is, be it on me imparted.
Now I find myself standing alone
amongst tall grasses and sunshine,
wishing someone would hit me again.
[Listening to: Fishbone, "The Suffering"]

Saturday, May 7

Sunless Saturday

Serez-vous là?
Est-ce que je vous reverrai?
Il y a deux semaines vous vous êtes tenus là, un fantôme dans la foule, amortissant chaque bruit autour de moi et me me rappelant a après cela seulement conserve vivant. Je ne puis pas même commencer à décrire la pause, l'interruption absolue à temps qui je me suis senti, voyant votre visage, vos lèvres... votre sourire.

       J'ai été gelé.
       Tremblé encore une fois,
       vingt ans après.
Et maintenant ce soir je vais voir la bande que vous aviez l'habitude de réclamer en tant que votre favori. Le groupe que vous m'avez présenté à, m'inspirant la manière vous a toujours fait.

Serez-vous là?
Est-ce que je vous reverrai?
              Vous rappelez-vous?
[Listening to: Praxis, "Seven Laws of Woo"]

Friday, May 6

Daft Punk is Playing at My House, My House

There's only about ten days left in the school year, and the wear and tear from this years mileage is starting to show on just about everyone around here. I need to keep my energy up for the kids, but it's like that feeling at the end of a race when the finish line seems to stretch farther and farther away the closer you get to it.

Plus on top of all that I've got a full weekend coming up that I'm really looking forward to (Fishbone is in town Saturday, and there's a festival show Sunday that I'm going to with K, which should be interesting).

The dilemna now is that I just got paid, and here is this free and clear Friday night just staring me back in the face. Most of the money I just got is already spent, so it's not like I could go crazy out there even if I wanted to, but it's strange to think that now that I have the time and opportunity to do whatever I want to, I'm seriously considering just staying home and watching the rest of House of Flying Daggers, which would be considerably cheaper than going out on the prowl.

then again, a few drinks might
be the best way to wash off
all of this stress, you know?
Hmm, daggers or stagger?
I suppose I'll just have to play it by
ear and see how I feel when I get home.
[Listening to: Talking Heads, "Psycho Killer"]

Thursday, May 5

The Bad Kitty Alarm Clock

There is nothing quite like the sensation you get in the barenaked hours of the morning when you've got the blankets curled up just right around your toes and you're silently dreaming about beautiful women far, far away when suddenly the snowflakes and the cobwebs are all yanked away as you sit up in the bed and say:
"Who's peeing on my leg?"
[Listening to: Living Colour, "Memories Can't Wait"]

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