look

there's still a lot of confusion with this living.
but people are going on with their lives and that is big.
some inspire, some scare, some get you working, some get you sad, some get you happy, some get you livin. when somebody is free around you that is big, even if they are sad. when somebody is happy around you and it is scary you should beware. their smiles are often made of paint.
phases come in phases.
simple realizations are shit out after a complex digestive process which includes a great deal of gas and discomfort.
--i will not be happy with my existence unless i am playing music, unless i have the time to dig into it.
figuring out the self is strange because you always think you know and then you realize you never really knew. but then you realize you always did.
being alone, being uncomfortable - you are forced to come to terms with what it is you want. At some point this happens. What makes you happy? What do you want to do? What do you LOVE? What will you not be happy without.
music, music, music
So, in your mind you form a Want. Then you begin to create a movement towards something. Perhaps a movement towards nothing, but perhaps towards something more exciting. an alarm in the morning and a boxing on mondays; a book a week and less time on the internet. more time at home, less time at home. more guitar, more blues, more singing, more running, more research, more recording.
my Irvine years were special because i hated where i was and that forced me to chew up a couple pieces of What I Was.
At some point i will realize more powerfully that this is all really happening. that I'm living and breathing right now; that there is no such thing as tomorrow and no more waiting and no more growing. there is the doing, there is the deed, there is the action of the moment. beyond this we touch only the robes over a naked body.
time drowning in my laptop
time drowning in my drive
time drowning at the gas station.
more discipline, less seriousness
get to it xandre
you lazy

supposed to be

she should be in the midwest where there are hot rains and white winters, where she can jog, inhaling crisp air.
she should be home.
he should quit his job.
he should leave the country.
she should stay in the ocean.
where somebody is supposed to be, where they are comfortable, where the air blows your life like a ballon instead of sucking it up like a lemonade through a straw. where somebody isn't supposed to be - where you find your why's and what's and whatever's, with the stretching to fold you into your bed in the evening and wake up hungry and unsatisfied. where you are - licking from the plate, hanging on, sucking up smoke, fingering a dream or two, drinking vermilions.

is there a state where we really know the comfort we need... or want? i know that i can depend on my constant shifts in perspective, my waves of insecurity and white waters of certainty. i know i can ride and sometimes i realize something is good. sometimes i realize that that something is bad.

there's a glorious rain outside my window right now. i'm warm and i've done nothing all day.
it has been wonderful.
good night.

some

are wild.
they hold odd notions in their crowded souls, pushing away columns and stones and antiques, making room for the new and fresh...
But this is an overcoming which is no good, albeit for a time it serves its purpose.
i often throw aside the most important things, forgetting what makes me love myself.
i must be happy with myself. we must love our Self. ourselves. so we do something here and there. i talk to Louis and try to learn spanish. i realize i can be more direct, i can be more secure and blunt. i can say what i want to say. i can walk with my back straight. i can smoke grass in the afternoon and play piano to the ceiling with a microphone.
we all deal in different ways. perhaps it is boring to treat everyone the same, to expect the same, to get the same same same same all the fucking time. let's adapt. let's use different words, let's transform, let's go somewhere new...let's do this and that.
i will always be pushing forward even when i'm drinking coffee in the morning at the breakfast table. something is pushing me, even when it stops. it waits. i know not what it is. but it goes. and goes and goes.
i love life
and i love my koala.
i wish her good morning and i wish all my friends and all the good people a strange and fantastic day.
...pushing slightly into the cushion of the extreme...

foodanddrink

as it fills up, the ground floor spills to the weeping iris where an old man is 40 and the child in the back with the lego tower dreams skipping in her tiny shoes is too alive for the world. she's the one with an empty palette, he was the one with the uniform and now he can't hear his wife with the walker when she sits 2 feet away. an alcoholic at the bar, maybe a few. main method of busboy transportation=bike. there's food and wine. i'm a pig sometimes. i can pour 30 glasses and nobody will say a word. i'm learning.
people don't stop. entitlement. unfocused frustration.
the sadness of the confusion of people's anger.
the love in the eyes of one or the juice swimming through the territory.
low and loud conversation everywhere. with foodanddrink.
business, for the hell of it, celebration.
always with the bastards.
terrible people with terrible minds.
glass of whisky to cap the evening.
and some wine to stain tomorrow

a plate of food

most people are a bunch of words and some bodies.
i can see me that way too.
then somebody gets to working and they become a lot of body (a lot of strength discharged, a lot of skills acquired...) OR a lot of words (selling you this, being nice to you when you spit in my face...) OR a little bit of both or a little of neither.

The focus might become the accomplishment of a task. A duty performed.
a movement from here (|) to here (|).
one feels good moving, discharging, creating, serving, discovering..

but then, who really changes and when? most people just stay the same...a few things change here and there - they talk differently, they discover new things, but ultimately it's just the same old patterns and games. to truly change - that takes serious work, serious discipline...even if it is perhaps a discipline of letting go, shedding, shape-shifting, shift-shaping..

so many patterns in the mind, and they slither around, hiding themselves in new circumstances like snakes in holes. i catch them often and i go at them with more vigor. though sometimes i get low, and i wallow. but part of the trick is avoiding excessive seriousness. then you get jaded and torn up like injecting poison into your veins.


making a plate of food - you get a little patience here, a little urgency there, a little drive and force heated up, a little ice to cool things down, a sprinkle of spice on the edges, a soft center on a bed of something strong.
and a glass of vermilion wine

i was sitting inside

at work, at the restaurant, in the back booth. the rain was spitting everywhere and i was eating a pizza and drinking pomegranate juice. my dad was sitting with me talking but he got up and left. i was in the big booth solo.
i looked out the window at the rain rolling down and moving down the posts and leaves and trunks and glass and people. my mind went off into some state where the chains are removed. then i started thinking about how i want to be indoors, relaxing and just watching the rain and thinking and dreaming. how nice that would be.

then i realized: i am indoors, relaxing, just watching the rain and dreaming. and i realized how nice it was.


desire is a strange devil which teases you as it teases you as it satisfies you. sometimes you get tricked and think you don't have what you want or you aren't where you should be or you aren't what you should be...maybe sometimes it isn't a trick.
...it's getting hard to be someone
but i think it all works out but i think it still matters to me,
kind of.

random from a while ago

"Some mon just deal wit information. An some mon, him deal wit the concept of truth. An den some mon deal wit magic. Information flow around ya, an truth flow right at ya. But magic, it flow t'rough ya" - bob marley


There is a space to be safe
a space to be vulnerable
and a space to cause pain
there are many other spaces
but there is also one space where you can enter all the other spaces

There are lyrics to be written,
stories to be written,
and there are your words and your actions
scratches on your skin and wax in your ear

many things exist to watch out for
a full moment - one of complete focus or one of complete surrender
a seeker - when stopping and resting is always temporary

some friends ask, some tell, some laugh, some listen, some look, some flirt, some want, some wonder, some yell, some whine, some push, some pull...some won't, some will

i admire bold people
-------------------
and now it's two months later, i've just read this over, i have nothing to add because it will take away from whatever it was. i can't access it. is what it is.
now i go have my morning tea