i only left scars on her bad side

breathe in

i'm bored. i feel like i have wasted the past 2 days. sure i've had fun. i've had a few dramatic and confusing things that have come sliding silently through me. other than that it's all been rather blase`. maybe that's why i haven't really written anything in the past week, becuase there hasn't been anything inspirational, everythings just been plain rational, and thats not fun.

and now i'm just writing this as an excuse to not do laundry.

breathe out

mark z. is coming out with a new book. i called the tattered cover and they should have copies on the release date. i haven't contacted barnes and noble yet. the book is called only revoloutions, with a website of the same name. looks just as fucked up fabulous as house of leaves so it will most likely be my obsession for the next six months after i get it.

nebulize

revoloutions of ruin - only revoloutions

bliss of another kind

breathe in

welcome back. almost three months since my last post. three months since things have been turned slightly around. things always come in threes.

breathe out

the world changes when you go away. i wasn't here. some pitiful creature that filled my shoes was here, singing the praises of domesticated fornication and false hope. there is a sinister nature present in the modern day relationship. it actually made me go back and want to be rose walker again. i wish i had multicolred hair and a calvin klein model in my recent past. i wish i was on a plane to the english moors in search of my prone mother and my even more crippled sister.

for a while i was happy. for a while there was a light in the world that shone brighter than my own vague fae spirit. but i wasn't ready for the world behind the mirror, the razorblades and the hooks that i had long ago pulled out of my calloused heels.

this time i'll take it slow. this time i'll dream first, then act later.

breathe in

i have written some pretty cool stuff in the past couple days. needs some editing. stay tuned.

oh. by the way.....


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lamb - wonder

and there is sweet pain

breathe in

it comes in waves. this little bit of autobiographical stuff. it comes and i exaggerate.

it comes.

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bt- dark heart dawning

return to reality

breathe in

so, as some of you may know thanks to a certain jackass among other things, i have been away for a while. it wasn't pleasant. it wasn't nice. but i'm alive and that's what counts. there are so many times that i wish that i could have done a little update, but it just wasn't that convenient considering the situation. i'm not going to give it all away right now, i'll leave those of you that don't know in the dark a bit longer. suffice it to say that it's good to be home, although there are a few things that need to be said.

breathe out

i have been home for three days. three days and i still walk around like i am a guest. today i finally said fuck it and set up camp in the living room and i've been fucking around on the computer just for shits. sure s doesn't care, the other one might, and the other one doesn't really matter since he hasn't paid rent in 2 months. that's right folks, i've been paying double rent due to my unique situation for the past 77 days and lazy fuck has been using my net connection, my food and my house to lounge around for a free ride. sure i was a lowlife unemployed sap for 4 months myself, but i made sure rent was paid. so someone is going to have to die. that's all there is to it.

breathe in

i have bunches of new fiction that should be coming soon, probably tomorrow night will be at least the first installment, and i'll also give you my first installment of my new ten part series. i'm not ready i guess to talk about the last 3 months, so those of you not in the know will just have to wait.

nebulize

prodigy - spitfire

i gave the benefit of the doubt its true

breathe in

looking for a job is ever so tiresome. even more tiresome is the fact that you know that you are overqualified and people aren't hiring you because of that simple reason. and you don't have a degree in beer bongs... er... i mean business or psychology. i need to start my own business. i need to be the captain of my own destiny.

i need enough money for a pack of cigarettes.

i know that this has to end in the next week because if it doesn't i will have to slit my throat while my head is in my gas oven after i have taken a bottle of aspirin washed down by a bottle of mad dog laced with comet cleanser. knowing my luck they would all cancel each other out and i would end up with 3 million in medical bills. i have seen all these 'are you gay and do you masturbate' type posters for medical studies but they don't pay, they just give you free drugs and shit.... ah well life.

breathe out

its time to talk about celebrity and what makes a celebrity. i know its my massive obsession with television rearing its ugly head again but its been on my mind. is tawny kitaen still a celebrity? according to e! true hollywood story she is. is carey hart not that much of a celebrity? according to vh1's the surreal life he is. inked is by far my new favorite show, aside from my erotic obsession with tattoos, and i know that carey hart is sorta becoming like how tony hawk was to my youth, a sort of non-celeb legend that really is a celeb. would anybody be saying anything about tom cruise if he wasn't dating katie holmes but rather, some producer chick who at one time was behind the scenes of some show like cheers. probably not. i know celeb obsession is about living vicariously, but how much of it is just manufactured or trumped up reality we'll never know. personally i would like to hear a celeb come out with a step by step guide on how to take a shit without distressing your colon too much.

breathe in

kudos to sem.... talk to ya soon. and there is another ventilate on the way. now that i don't have to stream it and run i have been actually working on something much longer and comprehensive... stay tuned.

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poe - control

lungs and water and the effects thereafter

breathe in

i haven't felt this way in a long time. i should just say that, because i had a longer sentence that sounded like utter bullshit. you know. drunk sort of stupid shit. i should say that i saw him and wanted so bad just to tell him that i could relate... now that its not so bad. now that i have at least something that i can offer him besides bedside sarcasm and a note saying see you next week. i could say that i'm independently wealthy... that would go over good.

i could say that i love him.

i could sit here and write about it and never do a fucking thing because the coward that i am won't let me admit those things basic to my being.

what did i say before... its only flesh.

i think i'll start reading clive barker again

independence day (belated)

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we drove our car to the top of the parking ramp
fourth of july
sat out on the hood with a couple warm beers
and watched the fireworks explode in the sky
there was an accident of birds in the trees
they didn't know that we were only pretending
and people all looked up and looked pleased
and the birds flew around like the whole world was ending
i don't think war is noble
i don't like to think that love is like war
but i got a big hot cherry bomb and
i want to stick it in the mailslot of your front door

you can't leave me here
i've got your back you better say you have mine
you say the coast is clear
you say that all the time

so many sheep i quit counting
sleepless and embarressed about the way that i feel
trying to make molehills out of mountains
building basecamp at the bottom of a really big deal
did i ever tell you how i stopped eating
when you stopped calling
i was cramped up shitting rivers for weeks
at the calm notion that i was finally free

you can't leave me here
you're down on your back you better stay this time
and you say the coast is clear
you say that all the time

-ani difranco

breathe in

first post. its probably not going to be good. so here goes.

THIS IS NOT THE END. EVOLOUTION IS ENDING BUT NOT TONIGHT.

so i overslept today and of course, with murphy's law this happened to be one of those super duper busy days at work where there will be much joy on monday when i come to work about my indescretion. i really think that everyone is allowed to be late, and if its two hours hey at least i called.

the ipod is a glorious thing. everyone i know that has one actually and truly loves theirs like its a pet monkey or somehting. i would love to have a pet monkey, but instead i have an ipod, and i think its just as good. what is a more fitting personal profile than a collection of someone's musical tastes? a friend of mine has 1500 songs on his, mostly showtunes. needless to say he's gay. last night we sat at the bar and had a little ipod party, comparing songs, playlists, bragging about who has more of what and who has downloaded more illegally than who. it was quite entertaining. the one person without one sat at the table like a bump on a log, his face long and sullen. it actually gave me a great idea. there should be a place, not online but in person, where you can share your ipod contents with others and just all have a good time. or you could have ipod night at the local bar, ask the dj to plug your ipod into the sound system and people can boo or cheer your mix. it would be fun.

ventilate(FICTION)

you think that this would be easy. after all i do have the power to level mountains, burn cities, make it rain blood across continents. you think i could find a single rebel. i mean come on. when he went down there he left a whole in the middle of asia the size of a small village. they still talk about it down there like it was some sort of exploding meteor or a rogue black hole. black hole, huh more like asshole. he leaves radiation burns on all of the monkeys in a hundred mile radius and then just fucking disappears into the forest like a fucking yeti or something.

and now they say that he is hanging out with her. one traitor deserves another i guess.

i still get hints of their trail every once in a while. in 1949 there was a blackout in st. petersberg, or whatever they were calling it then. when the lights came back on the monkeys were surprised to find five of their top politicians dead on the waterfront, throats slit, the flesh cauterized at the incision. nice work if i do say so myself. then the little prick arranged their bodies in a damn pentagram and put a sickle next to it, just like their stupid monkey flag. pretty creative i must say, but that almost started world war three in and of itself. stupid shithead never thinks of anyone but himself. ariel nearly got fired for that one, and michael was in a pissy mood for weeks. i personally had to impersonate a russian dissedent and have myself execuuted in front a firing squad. that was a shitty day.

in 1968 there was a man in san fransisco that claimed to have seen them together. he started some sort of church, said that it was based on the rock of the angelic wedding or some crap. in a big grand hoo ha they then proced to go to the center of golden gate park on some forsaken hill and fling themselves down one by one. each one had woven tapestries of the 'sacred lovers' clutched in their fists. that was probably her idea. i heard that she was like the patron of sluts and suicide or some crap.

other things have happened, random disappearences, killings, miracles, the usual, but for the past i would say five years the trail has gone cold. no blood. no disaster. nothing. so i sit here and i mull over a cup of coffee and watch the monkeys pace back and forth on the street. across the way some asshole decided to put a statue of me in like this fucking flower garden. i hate flowers. and he gave me one of those floppy things the boy monkeys play with so much. god gave the monkeys those and thats where the trouble started. i hear that whatever happened before he ran he got one of those too. i heard one of the girl monkeys say it the other day, something about the dick is always the problem. hell, that sums up the whole war pretty much.

nebulize

john mayer - my stupid mouth

esthero - heaven sent