this is for him.
25 November 2008
22 November 2008
+ i just want something better +
when i was around 6 years old
i remember my parents
taking us girls to
"santa's village".
a town where
christmas existed
all through the night.
but i was so confused,
because my dad
had spent countless hours
hammering into
my head
that i was
a jew.
i daydreamed
while i was there
about going up to
each of the other kids
and escaping the fact
that santa wasn't real.
it was just a
fat, old man
in an ugly suit.
i wanted to believe in something better.
i wanted to have a child's mind
inside of a child's heart.
instead i got the soul
of a 63 year old woman,
cautious of her coin purse,
and taking no real risks.
what a shame.
i remember my parents
taking us girls to
"santa's village".
a town where
christmas existed
all through the night.
but i was so confused,
because my dad
had spent countless hours
hammering into
my head
that i was
a jew.
i daydreamed
while i was there
about going up to
each of the other kids
and escaping the fact
that santa wasn't real.
it was just a
fat, old man
in an ugly suit.
i wanted to believe in something better.
i wanted to have a child's mind
inside of a child's heart.
instead i got the soul
of a 63 year old woman,
cautious of her coin purse,
and taking no real risks.
what a shame.
21 November 2008
+ thought of the day +
my friends are 100-fucking-percent out of their minds.
thank you.
have a pleasant morning.
thank you.
have a pleasant morning.
20 November 2008
+ alone with everybody +
the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.
there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.
nobody ever finds
the one.
the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill
nothing else
fills.
+ + + + +
(again, Bukowski.
i can't get away.
he says and sees everything
i want to,
but can't seem to.)
listen --> TO THIS.
watch --> THIS.
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.
there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.
nobody ever finds
the one.
the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill
nothing else
fills.
+ + + + +
(again, Bukowski.
i can't get away.
he says and sees everything
i want to,
but can't seem to.)
listen --> TO THIS.
watch --> THIS.
18 November 2008
+ "nothing is ever behind us "
scouring cnn.com i came across THIS:
a man taken to be executed, but granted a stay at the last moment.
he writes a letter to his fellow inmates in an attempt to assuage their beating hearts and haunted minds.
some interesting reading if your stomach can handle it.
a man taken to be executed, but granted a stay at the last moment.
he writes a letter to his fellow inmates in an attempt to assuage their beating hearts and haunted minds.
some interesting reading if your stomach can handle it.
+ Free Blood -- "The Royal Family" +
this right here is in honor of my dear, dear friend moana casanova.
i may have taken her a few places where she felt better to run away from my insanity, but...i love her dearly and this is from her to me to you.
i may have taken her a few places where she felt better to run away from my insanity, but...i love her dearly and this is from her to me to you.
15 November 2008
+ what a life +
little kids
shoot marbles
where branches break the sun
into graceful shafts of light.
i just want to be pure.
///////
and if i were a boy:
"I love it this way: my feet against the tar which is soft from the spring heat. A slight breeze that runs across your entire body, especially your crotch. You feel an incredible power being naked under a dome of stars while a giant city is dressed, dodging cars all around you five flights down. I don't think of anything while I'm doing the actual tugging, least of all the heavy sex fantasies I have to resort to indoors. Just my own naked self and the stars breathing down and its beautiful. Time sure flies where you're young and jerkin' off."
shoot marbles
where branches break the sun
into graceful shafts of light.
i just want to be pure.
///////
and if i were a boy:
"I love it this way: my feet against the tar which is soft from the spring heat. A slight breeze that runs across your entire body, especially your crotch. You feel an incredible power being naked under a dome of stars while a giant city is dressed, dodging cars all around you five flights down. I don't think of anything while I'm doing the actual tugging, least of all the heavy sex fantasies I have to resort to indoors. Just my own naked self and the stars breathing down and its beautiful. Time sure flies where you're young and jerkin' off."
12 November 2008
+ today in history +
Rainer Ptacek, good friend and incredible influence of Robert Plant, earned his notable following through his unique ways of playing guitar: all of "which incorporated slide, finger-picking, tape loops, and electronic manipulation."
In 1996 he was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and 2 years later, on this very day, November 12th, he died.
A tribute album, "The Innner Flame" was created and dedicated to him by several indefatigable artists including Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, Billy Gibbons, and PJ Harvey.
Watch this to see how truly unreal he is:
In 1996 he was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and 2 years later, on this very day, November 12th, he died.
A tribute album, "The Innner Flame" was created and dedicated to him by several indefatigable artists including Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, Billy Gibbons, and PJ Harvey.
Watch this to see how truly unreal he is:
11 November 2008
07 November 2008
+ she has brown hair and brown eyes +
i've come to the conclusion that my greatest hurdle in life is being true. to me.
acting the way i want to act.
saying the things i want to say.
smiling at who i want.
and cursing the others.
for years i let anyone say and do and think whatever they wanted about me.
i guess i was too scared to fight back in some way.
but, when i think about it more -- i was too scared to fight myself.
i saved myself with starvation.
i'll never forget the whisk of my hand:
these hips. they protrude like arrows.
as my belly, it rests a concave bowl. never being filled.
i prepared for death like it was my life.
and exiled all those around me.
i thought i was left with nothing.
i was wrong.
i finally had everything.
i had it all to scrape away and build anew.
there's debate over how long that was.
the slow suicide.
i know the facts.
and that's all that matters.
it isn't about being proud i went through all of it.
it isn't about knowing i can push the limits to where most can't.
it's about the other side.
it's seeing the same eyes look back.
with the same body.
and the same thoughts.
countered.
///////
acting the way i want to act.
saying the things i want to say.
smiling at who i want.
and cursing the others.
for years i let anyone say and do and think whatever they wanted about me.
i guess i was too scared to fight back in some way.
but, when i think about it more -- i was too scared to fight myself.
i saved myself with starvation.
i'll never forget the whisk of my hand:
these hips. they protrude like arrows.
as my belly, it rests a concave bowl. never being filled.
i prepared for death like it was my life.
and exiled all those around me.
i thought i was left with nothing.
i was wrong.
i finally had everything.
i had it all to scrape away and build anew.
there's debate over how long that was.
the slow suicide.
i know the facts.
and that's all that matters.
it isn't about being proud i went through all of it.
it isn't about knowing i can push the limits to where most can't.
it's about the other side.
it's seeing the same eyes look back.
with the same body.
and the same thoughts.
countered.
///////
05 November 2008
+ change can happen +
i believe in the power of an individual.
i believe that youth means a way to something different.
something better.
i believe in sleeping sounder knowing that i have faith in my leader.
i believe in ACTUAL freedom, rather than something that is supposedly there.
who's more proud to call themselves an American today, right now?
ME.
and i'm sure, all of you.
i believe that youth means a way to something different.
something better.
i believe in sleeping sounder knowing that i have faith in my leader.
i believe in ACTUAL freedom, rather than something that is supposedly there.
who's more proud to call themselves an American today, right now?
ME.
and i'm sure, all of you.
04 November 2008
+ we were born to sin +
almost a bit too pop like for my tasting, but...
eh, i've liked this song for awhile now.
We don't want to die/
Or apologize/
For our dirty god/
Our dirty bodies/
eh, i've liked this song for awhile now.
We don't want to die/
Or apologize/
For our dirty god/
Our dirty bodies/
03 November 2008
+ witch of words +
"Am I writing for the world? No. My language is unknown. What a joy it will be if I am overlooked; my treasures will then belong to me alone. When I die I will burn these pages and my thoughts scribbled here will live only in eternity with the one who expressed them."
///////
"For an hour you were me, that is the other half of yourself. What you broke, burnt, and tore is still in my hands. I am the keeper of fragile things and I have kept of you what is indissoluble."
///////
"December 29, 1927 - And yet whenever women find an emptiness in their lives they don’t seek the cause of it within themselves, in their spiritual and intellectual life; no; they seek a man, they turn destructively upon the husband as if he were to blame, upon the children. They turn to mere physical sensation, to base deception---I can’t understand. . . I realize that I am now doing nothing but fulfilling dreams, nothing but materializing images, using my will to make all my desires tangible. Of course, I never dreamed all that I am doing. When I was younger I imagined my dancing, my writing and marriage, though not quite like the real one, which surpasses the conceptions of a child. My imagination has been my lamp. I have only to desire wisely and intensely, and with my will, to fulfill. Is this an illusion, a conceit of my will’s power, so newly discovered that perhaps it has intoxicated me? It is so new for me to have an active will after years of merely imaginary activity. Even last year, walking down Montparnesse, I asked myself what could happen if suddenly I said and did exactly what I wanted to say and do. I foresaw cataclysms. Yet I tried it. And the result? Nobody hurt---a few scandalized; more, pleased and proud; even more, influenced and enlivened by my activity. Every day I feel surer of myself, my desires soar higher. I feel power in myself, conviction. If it is conceit, a vast empty bubble of vanity, an illusion as false as my old modesty was false; if I am deceived intellectually, by the fireworks of my life, if its ascension is the ascension of self-glory; if there is no spiritual value and philosophical significance to my life, then there is no truth and no sincerity in this world, because no woman ever looked down into herself with as much cold criticism, no woman ever analyzed her ideas and actions more carefully, none was ever more doubtful of herself, more self-deprecating, more fearful of hypocrisy, more terrified of lies, more eager for truth, than I. You, my Journal, alone, know that."
///////
"For an hour you were me, that is the other half of yourself. What you broke, burnt, and tore is still in my hands. I am the keeper of fragile things and I have kept of you what is indissoluble."
///////
"December 29, 1927 - And yet whenever women find an emptiness in their lives they don’t seek the cause of it within themselves, in their spiritual and intellectual life; no; they seek a man, they turn destructively upon the husband as if he were to blame, upon the children. They turn to mere physical sensation, to base deception---I can’t understand. . . I realize that I am now doing nothing but fulfilling dreams, nothing but materializing images, using my will to make all my desires tangible. Of course, I never dreamed all that I am doing. When I was younger I imagined my dancing, my writing and marriage, though not quite like the real one, which surpasses the conceptions of a child. My imagination has been my lamp. I have only to desire wisely and intensely, and with my will, to fulfill. Is this an illusion, a conceit of my will’s power, so newly discovered that perhaps it has intoxicated me? It is so new for me to have an active will after years of merely imaginary activity. Even last year, walking down Montparnesse, I asked myself what could happen if suddenly I said and did exactly what I wanted to say and do. I foresaw cataclysms. Yet I tried it. And the result? Nobody hurt---a few scandalized; more, pleased and proud; even more, influenced and enlivened by my activity. Every day I feel surer of myself, my desires soar higher. I feel power in myself, conviction. If it is conceit, a vast empty bubble of vanity, an illusion as false as my old modesty was false; if I am deceived intellectually, by the fireworks of my life, if its ascension is the ascension of self-glory; if there is no spiritual value and philosophical significance to my life, then there is no truth and no sincerity in this world, because no woman ever looked down into herself with as much cold criticism, no woman ever analyzed her ideas and actions more carefully, none was ever more doubtful of herself, more self-deprecating, more fearful of hypocrisy, more terrified of lies, more eager for truth, than I. You, my Journal, alone, know that."
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