Wednesday, February 29, 2012

a (not so very) short story:

and he kept reading
despite thinking
that he should not

hitting the next arrow
and pausing
to think,
"why does she have to be so good?"

hitting the next arrow
and pausing
to think,
"or is it because it's like reading myself?"

hitting the next arrow
and pausing
to think,
"or is it that i love to mourn the death of ghosts?"

and she kept writing
not knowing
for a moment
what had happened

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

The answer is still "Three after he decides to stop letting them."

The real question is when will he decide?

Besides, you can't be mad at the trap he willingly stepped in.

Earlier today a friend told me they had a bad day and they thanked me for making music they could curl up to and find comfort in. It meant a lot to me because no ones ever really said that about my music.

And now, at a bad end to a day that was cursed by ghosts from the beginning, I too turn to music for some comfort.

If I can be to someone else what Atmosphere is to me then maybe there's a point to all these random words that haunt me.

Monday, February 27, 2012

"People say his brain is infected by devils."

When being plagued by unpleasant early morning dreams, I think most people would wake up in order to escape. For some reason it make me want to keep sleeping. In the hopes that either they will stop and I will dream something better before I wake up or I will somehow be able to change the dream and it's outcome. Apparently my desire to fix things continues even when mostly unconscious.

But, as in life much of the time, such fixes are not possible. So, instead, I wake up standing in the midst of a deep hole that I must spend the rest of the day digging myself out of.

Good mourning.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

It's quite possible I will have quite a few of these boxes of CDs following me around for the rest of my life.

Everyone think big sales.
That would be real nice.

A (very) short story:

He sometimes wondered
What (or who) she took pictures of now
With that old camera

It was a random, passing thought
One not worth dwelling on
If he was honest

She had probably
Moved on
To a new hobby by now

And so the question drifted away
As she happily advanced the film one more frame.

Looks like this new app means some posts will have proper capitalization.

Too bad it won't increase the quality of the posts.

In fact, it will probably lead to a general decrease in quality.

Case in point.

I haven't been reading anyone's blogs in months.

Today I read a few entries on one.
It left me feeling weird.

I don't think I had realized what an emotional connection comes from reading my friends' blogs. Or how much I had felt the need to disconnect myself from that. Kind of wash that connection off and stand alone, separated from it.

I think part of what is making me feel weird is that I didn't really like feeling that connection come back.
I still want to avoid it.
And I don't really know why.
Or what that means.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

this is where i was gonna post a more complete version of the phony girl-i've-been-hanging-out-with interlude/story/thing from the release show set that i never got around to actually writing in full form. but i don't know if i feel like it right now. i did want to make sure to post this one part that i wish i hadn't forgotten. because i like it, even thought it's probably not nearly as clever/cool as i think it is.

"she has this way of smiling the first two seconds she sees me. the kind that hits her eyes first and migrates down to her mouth like some sort of endorphin powered manifest destiny blazing its way across her face."

i think i just like the manifest destiny reference in such an absurd context.

and i wish someone smiled at me like that right now.

i think i saw it once or twice.
long ago.

hit the streets with synthesizers buzzing in your ears. were the parallels already there or are you making them? the answer doesn't matter nearly as much as the decision. will you keep walking between the lines? or will you break from the plane? servitude or serpentine?

let's be honest.
we know the ending.
keep writing metaphors. in lockstep.
words alone have never killed fate.
and you can do yourself in on paper a million times
without using enough lead to cover your grave.

paper phoenix.
origami king.
keep writing your myths.
while living your miss.
keep walking forward.
straight as ever.

incomplete pieces of various things:

got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one
prob'ly mostly due to how my momma raised her son
could never call this girl that after all she's done
pushed her out my heart but still breathe her into lungs
she's still close


don't find me apt? fine, just call me ad-hoc
they say protect your neck, i got myself a padlock


beats himself up so often that he's got numb fists
but dying alone doesn't seem quite as scary as it once did


a slave to her silhouette, can't believe the new one matches
life is just a cycle, he holds himself together with patches


there in that moment he can feel her shift away
watches as the cracks form and in slips decay
the words now are hollow something she's been tricked to say
what once came up gold now only sifts as grey


ever since the dawn of days he's been afraid to lead
it's not a magic trick, got a white flag up his sleeve

from the analog anthology (old things from a notebook that never saw the digital light of day):

yada yada:

he knows it's in there
folded in
with the unassuming bank statements
and show-related emails
right by the one from his mother
saying it would be nice
if he called more

three named sender
calling from a past he both

so meaningful
the first time
he read it
so needed
so powerful
for so

yada yada

so out of
as it should be

he knows he should
get rid of it
little hidden
bear trap
that it is
he likes to keep it
he likes to know
it's still there

a silent reminder

that even if it was only for as long as it took to type
there was a moment that she meant it

there was a moment that she meant it

yada yada

she meant it


in any other place
it might seem normal
but here
it is gaudy
absurdly present
so very fitting

a towering reminder
that two of his favorite places
were once
one block
away from each other

and it was always worth
the cold, many blocks long walk
to get there
a monument to commerce
the temporary epicenter

and when he got tired of counting steps
he could count how long his breath stayed visible
to pass the time
on the journey

Friday, February 10, 2012

two things:

i just want someone to look at me the way she looks at larry david.
that's right.
larry david.

i think i may be in trouble.

the traps are laid out clearer than ever.
in every direction.
but here i am walking right for them.

i can't seem to remember that lonely
is better than

or maybe i've got that

bonus thing:
holly golightly

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

this actually exists now, if you didn't already know.

oh, adam.
my but you do have a knack for putting yourself here, don't you?
at least you're consistent, i guess.