you take this motherfucker? neato.

or so it said on june 12th, 2006, 1:27am. wow, i just looked at this, and thought it was neat, and thought i was looking at it for the first time. then i looked below, and it made me cringe and cry at the passing of time...

though cringing and crying aren't bad. "and i'm not happy, and i'm not sad". write? like when we're lying in bed and minds wander, as brant and i conversed over indian food up north. like, why am i here, why is anything here, why does it all matter, and why are these such stupid and functionally pointless questions to be asking, because there is no answer, and there never will be. right. though we silently conclude that the answer lies in the moment, in our company and the delicious food in front of us, soon to be part of us. and i topically conclude (as in: you can see the pattern of letters upon this digital page, and you can (in the medicinal sense) thus relate it or apply it directly to a part of the body) that i'm not writing this for information or suggestion or pity or anything like that. rather for connection, i suppose, something that resembles the defining moments of our lives, our sex, our energy, our general will to make another movement. and regardless of how that movement comes, chemical, traditional, habitual, spiritual, free or not, motivation blind,

i ask:

what did you do today? what made you feel anything today? what was the funniest thing that happened? did you kiss or touch or fuck lately? or love lately? more importantly, of course, but being direct isn't always the greatest tact. sad but true. continuing: how are you feeling right now? how are your significant others doing? what have you been up to lately? how is the weather, your living situation, your immediate surroundings? are you healthy? what social event impacted you the most? do you understand why it did? what was the greatest endeavour lately that made you stop questioning all of this and just FEEL, but then come back to realize how important these questions are.
what did you think about creating lately? why? (and always follow with why why why).

as i am quite sure that most who read this won't literally answer these questions and type them out to become topical once again, i hope some do. and i hope all who read this will ask and answer these questions if in nothing else but silence. "catch the spirit", or so says my jingoist coffee mug, as it has been refilled with hot water so much that the echinacea is completely strung out and purely ornamental. tea makes me feel nice.

at the moment

when i die, i want others to see me as i was. why change it? keep my clothes the same. this can be a legally binding first will and testament.

they could be untouched, or torn, stretched at the neck. maybe coffee spilled all down them.
their state, created by clashes with my body, together or falling apart. if there's a giant red expulsion out the side, then it would make sense to have it on your clothes, so people could see what happened, maybe a last communication i'd have with others, right?

suit? shitty rags? bland? that's what i am. if i didn't want to be killed in a work-monkey outfit, i'd never wear one. if i wanted to hang myself with a neck tie, i'd do just that, not wear it. there's merit in dress, i know, i know. but wear what you're comfortable in. why sacrifice skin just for others, for the job, for money, for a better sense of less investigation. i'm not saying don't be yourself, but feel yourself. there's a difference.

but why dress it up. i remember my grandmother's funeral, all the make-up, the awkward dress. they said it was to see her one last time and say goodbye. i said goodbye the last time i saw her, and seeing her in my mind will always suffice because i have no other choice. why dress it up. it was only alien to see her in make-up she never wore. we are what we were, and we always will be. and i know my grandmother died with men on her mind. no shame in that.

Smiles for Similes

The bill collector's tab is gaining insight, but not nearly as much as my own sense of sending people cheap gifts. My internal dichotomy can explain:

i dont want to go outside but its really nice out . id like to see the city but i kinda want to just be lazy and stagnant . i write about internal struggles , meaningless to the outside , and usually something that seems a lot more important while drunk . i catch myself in sobriety and stop with all the second guessing . laying in bed and catching on sleep , i can only think of the weakest moments of myself and those around me . at the core . . . we are all terrified . so i put that to rest as well . i think the general posture of fright and failure is harbored within us . so we can relate to each other in the time of our most need . and so i wake up to less headaches and the comfort of coming up from such stagnation . from such sleep .



I sent in the bill; the money in my account is sufficient. Not much left, but I'll make more. Then I'll send it away. Always keep one step ahead. That's all you need. Explaining the car-crash that is my sense of adventure, perhaps we can gain insight:

obligations to brothers and others mean nothing unless they are obligation to the self . i picture a trip abroad not in the greater sense of exploring new terrain and understanding new people through language . i picture a trip abroad as fist fights and pale drunk nights and finding the greater sense of why you breathe with the people you breathe with . which seems just as valid as the former, if not more so . and i will explain it all later . but for now , i need you . but for now , i sit awake when i should sleep . i keep my droning dreams safe within the workday routine . i still feel the most motivation when i should the least .


The way it OUGHT TO be.