death

and one die i will die.
but before that, perhaps, my parents will die.
and i will do something casual and normal, a memory coming to me, or just a thought of either of them. how they were alive. a life. I used to know them and love them, and still do.
and the memory. and the life. and all of it. everywhere.
so fucking sad.
and so fucking beautiful.
im not sure i'll be able to handle it. i'm not sure i can handle it.
like smoke, drifting up into the sky. you can't grab it and hold it. your hand breaks through it. but you love it. and it disappears. and doesn't care about you. at all.

Atmosphere "Scapegoat" lyrics

"It's the caffeine, the nicotine, the miligrams of tar
It's my habitat, it needs to be clean, it's my car
It's the fast talk they use to abuse and feed my brain
It's the cat box it needs to be changed, it's the pain
It's women, it's the plight for power it's government
The way your giving knowledge slow and throwing in subtle hints
It's rubbing it, It's itching it, It's applying cream
It's the foreigners sight seeing with high beams, It's in my
dreams
It's the monsters that I conjure, It's the marijuana
It's emberassment, displacement, It's where I wander
It's my genre, It's Madonna's videos
It's game shows,cheap liquor,blunts, and bumper stickers with
rainbows
It's angels, demons, gods, it's the white devils
It's the monitors, the soundman, it's the f**king mic levels
It's gas fumes, fast food, Tommy Hil, the date rap pill (?)
Columbia House music club, designer drugs and rhyming thugs
It's bloods and crips, five and six,
It's stick up kids, It's christian conservative terrorists, it's
porno
flicks
It's the east coast, no it's the west coast
It's public schools, it's asbestos
It's mentholated, It's techno
It's sleep, life, and death
It's speed, coke, and meth
It's hay fever, pain relievers, oral sex, and smokers breath
It stretches for as far as the eye can see
It's reality, f**k it , it's everything but me
On and on and on and on
The list goes on and on and on and on
It's in the air, in the water, it's in the meat

It's indirect, indiscrete, inconsistent, and incomplete
It's on the street, every city and everywhere you go
In every man it's the insanity, the fantasy, the casualties
It's the health care system, it's welfare victims
It's assault weapons, it's television religion, and it's false
lessons
It's cops, pigs with badges guns and sticks
It's harassment and a complex you carry when you're running shit
It's wondering if you get to eat
It's the winter , the weather
It's herpes, and it's forever
It's the virus that takes the lives of the weak and the strong
It's the drama that keeps on between me and my seed's mom
It's that need to speek long, It's my hunger for attention
It's the wack , who attack songs of redemption
It's prevention, It's the first solution
It's loosing the retribution(?), it's mental pollution, and
public
execution
It's the nails that keep my hands and feet to these boards
It's the part time job that governs what you can afford
It's the fear, It's the fake
It's clear it can make time stop and leave you stranded in the
year of
the
snake
It's the dollar, yen, pound, it's all denomination
It's hourly wages for your professional observations
It's on your face and it's in your eyes
It's everything you be
But it ain't me mother f**ker, it ain't me
On and on and on and on
the list goes on and on and on and on"

-Slug

Adjustments need to be constructed

gym, punching bag, changing outlets.

30 minutes a day using Logic/lyrics, instrumental focus on songs

stencil/carbon--the Norm.

finishing books, researching ---getting started on papers to save time for later. creating space for doing work.

look into bartender license.

CRITICAL RESISTANCE. CONTACT.

the Law stuff.

This the thing: The disconnect between the external and internal. The ways in which we're formed - from TV shows, sports, mathematics (that scientific education). Everything boils down to answers - Right and Wrong. These numbers add up, this makes sense. The story is logical, Dicken's gives us a nice ending. Everything is tied up.
But when we deal with people, relationships, careers; and when we try to balance all these things and we try to be "ourselves" in all these situations, we get Torn Apart.
There is one self - and we try to find that and we never can.
We want to apply our mathematically molded selves to the situations we're in. And it doesn't work. There is no math for being human.
There is no science for being human. The way you react in this situation does not mean you will react a different way in a different situation.
And you can never figure it out because things aren't clear, they are muddled and muddy. And every time we try to break away and Think, we get pulled back in by that damned line, the damned group, and we're trudging through that jungle with weights tied to our torsos ready to snap us back as soon as we let a drop of weakness seep from our heads.
It's all a bloody mess. There is no order save the order we create. Which is routine, simplicity, etc. This is beyond the world, but it is good for ourselves. No. It is In the World and that is good. But we're always beyond it.

Winning and Losing doesn't happen in life like it does in sports. It isn't clear cut like that.
But you quit sports. Now you watch them.
And you watch films and read books. And there are no answers. But you are always looking for them. Like answers the questions in school. Like math.
You don't find them, but you think you do. And you ask questions of people hoping for them to spoon feed you some shit that makes everything fall into place.
The balance is between simplicity and chaos. The more simple, the more chaotic, the more balanced, the more insane.
The madness is a state reached and kept when these two are reconciled in some strange way.

stop:start

Creating Routine is madness. It is the break, the moment when consistency drowns in some past and never returns. A redefinition of certain action.
A climb toward another.
The breath at the top of the hill.
the Cold air.
A morning in the sun.

A walk around this house reveals treasure - foreign elements introduced into a life.
This is what exploration provides. Curiosity has a new nose a day. We're drones until we break with ourselves. Always tearing away to come back to...one's self. The conditioning is constant. Escape allows return, distance allows good vision, good vision leads to madness - all the world is madness, most purely.

Tomorrow a sunny hot day awaits, the streets of LA will burn. I'm going to dig LA and bury it.
The New as the Old New. The same as it ever was.
that is it: Stop Making Sense

Basically it's a question of getting down to some very simple things.
what makes me feel good about life. where i get pleasure.
throwing those in to my day. mixed up, jumbled up.
Not getting caught in vicious and terribly draining, boring, unproductive routines.
making sure things are going good.
and keeping a fire-like core.
but existing like water, fluid, flowing, shapeless, shaping.

The very simple fact that you will not every agree completely with anybody on everything.
That you will hurt people and be hurt.
That you're perspective is in many ways within your grasp.

And the relationship between your body and your mind. Making your body feel good.

The ChiLL.
the melting life.
Towards a new phase, a new turn.
Being conscious of this daily. When i wake up in the morning.

BOLDNESS
“Then indecision brings its own delays,

And days are lost lamenting o'er lost days.

Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute;

What you can do, or dream you can, begin it;

Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.” -Goethe




i was watching myself speak today. in a video. That different perspective on the self. Cus I feel that I constantly watching myself, constantly aware. But the imagine I have of myself in my mind (and this, i must constantly remember) is not always the same as how others see me, or even how i might see myself (in camera, photo, etc).
Ray noticed that I've been anxious. And I need to stop. There is no hurry. But there are things I must do now.
Bold.

Being aware of what is productive and what isn't productive in terms of the way I deal with myself, in terms of being hard on myself, angry at myself, etc.
I can see how my attitude, anger from adolescent years turned inwards, to a reconstruction of myself. This is interesting and perhaps worthy of more writings.

Working on those little things, not trying to express this beautifully, just doing it, the little changes, like productive thinking, productive criticism.
But there's also the element of not giving a fuck. But maybe that's not good.

You, Xandre, you laying there, from that white rich place, with those friends and those thoughts and that body, with that tattoo and the songs you write and the writing you write and the wine you drink and the place you live. You, with that weird worldview and the realizing all the time - that you don't need to care about this and that, that slowing down is necessary to move quickly and effectively. You, hurrying always but needing to learn to chill. Being confident about certain things. You, developing that core where confidence develops. That there are things you can stand and things you can't. Knowing where to draw lines, where they're drawn already and how you fit within and outside of them, etc...
and waking up feeling GooD