summmmmmmm

summertime sorrow
deeper the holes deeper the burns worms worms got lost trying to stop being normal
in the big game change ties hide up get in in in meaning get mucked up drugged up flu shots and bug shots
got spots on wet socks my walkin slips the tightropes sucker hold
light hopes fucked up from meanings, dreamings, weaving tingle swift
get to reading spark up the moving mover moving stop the foot tapping nerves asking whats more in the door slamming
real forms smacking my face my face smacking real forms my face
homeequitycreditcardebtderivativesfuckingyourlifeawaybutit'sarealthingican'tbelievebutwilldealwithsomaybegetinvolved
maybe hop in the madness rabbits hop hopes rot got nothing but fear bots
things things pilin while they inside the white room bubbling like cloud bursts in the morning after rain when the sun shatters grey matters between white and black and the door open a creek with a coffee smell seeping in as the steam wanders from the shower in your home in the future in the dark if there is one when there won't be if you can but only if and only when the whens are gone and the ifs are melting and the forever unfolding is a walk and not a flight a grass blade not a lawn beyond the yawns of sleepy times did you know its only two weeks til i see you?

24

- ate good sushi. want a quail egg right now
- cool leather jacket. changing image. suit shopping. 100000 a yr in la.
- didn't see alzheimers but talked with it. jeopardy and the future. how is it still going on.
- ate a lot of good cake with budweiser.
- learned you can keep moving. the chains are pretend. nowhere is permanent. NOwhere is permanent. know where is permanent.
- remembered cycles. that some people want a job right now. that i want november 4th and my woman
-forgot about wanting and time and got the wheels rolling again.
-yelled at grandfather for being republican and didn't let him speak. too harsh. tried to figure out football and make myself fall in love with it again.
-got lyrics down for The Drips and mike's got some good new riffs. middle finger nail is definitely deformed.
-remembered what it was like to just jam endlessly. no beginnings and ends. listening to it all
-ate a fantastic bagel and watched the godfather.
-looked up yoga classes and thought about discipline while flossing my teeth.
(the thing with it is that you can't plan it, when you start thinking about it you gotta start doing it. otherwise you end up putting everything off "til later" "til later" "later" L'ater la'ter lat'er ;atr
-ben turned 24 and i realized shit we're kinda old

headlight bike man

In the fog the light was burning and i shot past with a crisp breath where the hip hop was weaving with 60s psychedelic acoustics and synth samples like ice cubes melting in coffee with steam sweating into itself. but like all hell this has been all hell until the victory last night which was not so much glory as it was inconvenience getting me hard and then fucking itself until morning. and the day has been nice and i've felt fine. no aches and pains, no regrets and dark imaginings (tho they come inevitably). oh delightful drugs and you're grasp. oh my weaknesses. oh fuck it all.
quite to the point this evening since it has been a serious hiatus from writing. the thought has depressed me for weeks or even months - writing on this blog or anywhere. i've tried in notebooks and wherever but it rarely gets passed a few sentences. my mind barely reaches a conclusion before i am bored. and then on to the next thing to occupy my time. that's why a cigarette can sum it all up. the excitement of the spark, the drags, the burning, the end, and then you smash it out. watch how people put out their cigarettes. it can show a mood instantly. throwing it, stepping on it, crushing it. but the writing is nice and feels a little sexy with chopin and loneliness. writing is only sexy when you're alone. in public it's akin to masturbation or juggling a soccer ball. but alone, in your bed, at night, quiet, just a sprinkler going off outside and your strange soul.
a change in expectation is necessary for me. what it means to enjoy the day. what it means to feel good in the day. i am bored to the absolute core which is not nearly as much of a problem as feeling absolutely trapped, caged, ready to blow. and so i just use blow to wiggle around a bit. or whatever else comes around. and then it all comes in a circle. i feel even worse. maybe it's just a way to make myself feel worse so i can justify feeling worse. or doing nothing. laziness. am i getting done what i want to get done? only at work. outside that im pissing it all away. maybe i exhaust myself at work and then use snowballs and candy and scotch to try to give myself a little danger and feed the little dragon of boredom. keeping myself bored. wanting the things that make me sad, bored, pissed, whatever. a strange dark cycle that must be broken apart. immediately.
mad men - people want to be told what to do. badly. who knows. ill use a lot of situations as excuses. it shows up, its there, its friday. no white princess snow woman last night. inconvenient sexiness. i tried to want it. the inconvenience. i eventually ended up on the drum set and it ruled my night.
this week had some fantastic days. rain and deep greens in the grass, radiohead with the water splashing all around my car and the fog wrapping everything up in winter lingerie. and i gave myself some rest, stopped drinking coffee and took my chimarrao from the cabinet and began the routine. i would sip it all morning and read. this felt nice and good. it was simple and the day followed naturally. only friday was shit because i was weak. hating yourself. hurting yourself. this is the lowest.
but then saturday. and i began feeling good during the day. because i got a small grasp on my mind. it happened at 4am and i saw my thoughts hop on a bike and start heading somewhere. and i took the ride for a bit and then i said fuck it and sat on a stone and watched the sun slowly awaken, proud in the morning and for a little while i felt the energy flow through me. and it felt nice and i took some of my confusion and spit it into an arrowhead bottle. then i walked to bed and lay there and watched That Thing You Do while my heart was pounding. and i fell asleep to one of the catchiest songs ever created because how the fuck do i know the lyrics to this song and all the parts.
and on saturday night when the jamming started, when the guitar was in my hands and when i was feeling the drums out or singing it all felt....it was all that mattered and i didn't want anything else. i had my eyes closed on the drums and i was riding. like this big headlight in vicious darkness with the crisp air shooting down my lungs. and ive felt fantastic ever since.
and there's this piece of me missing though...

monk trane

gaudi in spain and mozart at 8 (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/8180648.stm)
and Bird, Monk, coltrane, davis....
the construction, musical architects
chiseling music, tearing apart the structures from inside
from out
playing with the whole mess

recording. the space of sound. each section with its own place.
the discipline. absorbing the material.
practice. coffee. work. everywhere work. don't stop working. then you die young. though you might anyways. theory. history.
being inspired again.
love smashing me all ways
i see her naked wrapped under the jazz
triads stroking my balls

think about clapton's first sight of hendrix.
underground jazz clubs, jamming all night

if you just let things pass and don't dwell then they slip away and, of course, you might miss some things and maybe the big ones will claw on a bit longer which can for certain be a good thing...but maybe you'll just drift along and life will be nice and slippery like water

stick on stars

the times are strange, like fog in the summer on the beach on a hot day and earthquakes that you can't feel while you're working. doing funny things. illegal and downtown brown. talking the heads. no braces for crooked days. i'm made up of phases and this blog is sometimes not good, doing too much writing is not good, cus i tend to go inwards and it soon becomes boring, but fascinating cus you can keep peeling away. but in the end you get somewhere that doesn't seem to matter much. then you keep pushing outwards and you lose yourself and then that becomes boring. everything becomes boring to me i think. at some point. then i start boiling in phases again.
the machines turn, the gears churn, i get caught up and learn about some things on somedays.
people are telling secrets near me. gossip like. it's strange.
hanging around all men or women.
hanging around in the workplace.
hanging around at school. - the way you keep your friends and make them. the way you talk and what you do.
hanging around at home.
where's home?
at home.
but this isn't your home anymore.
time to get away.
this music is too good tho. this upbeat stuff.
these beats and this feel good.
but it's fresh. this is what i'm heading towards. i want the fresh.
like coca cola in the 1950s.
man, the tides crashing in the corporate cultures, where are the waves?
i'm losing it.
i'm losing my edge.
-lcd soundsystem
family issues and formations of people, quite feelings in the night, a pillow and nightmare kleenex. wet dreams, stick on stars on the ceilings.

jesus

you're such an asshole.
if you don't sing it out you got nothing.
oh well