Grieving and sadness pedaling my sickness.
It's true I have something like the flu.
Maybe it's the chemtrails spreading disease onto the lands
who knows, it just comes and it goes.
Maybe I'm dying.
Maybe it's all almost over.
I mean it could be any day.
This minute, this day, tomorrow
our last day.
I am going to relax and not let these things get the best of me.
Curtail our excesses for now until recovery.
Curtail our excesses and push it to the edges.
The fringe and the fringes.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Saturday, January 09, 2010
The Garden, The Rose and The Ho
I woke up thinking about the things that could have been
I woke up remembering and regretting even what might have been
A Joan Baez circle was in my dream, and I woke up wishing I could just swim
Swim past these superficial, ambitious, superfluous simplicities
Success driven men and ladies all trying to get a piece
Like vultures grabbing for any little bit of accolades of acknowledgment
of money and of fame.
In my dream of course We were going to go, even though I say to myself No.
I staunchly and firmly believe in No Regrets,
but talking with an old friend also so far away
from where he once was
from where we once were and the things the things he once had offered
to me and himself
we've slowly slipped away
That good life is not far away, or maybe this cold war is the one thing I feared my entire life
of rationing and fight
of hiding, fear and flight
an economic recession a downturn of fiscal responsibilities
and we the people no longer holds meaning
Who would choose the grim snow over the island she mused,
and I recognize the fear he must have infused.
And his digression and regret in what he chose
When open mindedness and freedom lighted his abode
I once felt the same way.
But we could have traveled the world together I suppose
I'm sure we would have had I allowed to bloom that rose.
But I went with another garden, another gardener. I chose.
And, come on, afterall he was kind of a Ho.
So now we are two, friends still in the end, as I am with everyone
now and again
And the war is in full swing, it's the 20's, the 40's the 60's again.
With protesters and angry civilians
With global warming and a Black president
It's civil war and world war all over again.
We're broke and we're struggling with visions of grandeur in our minds
We crave the road and hope it will get us away from all this mess
But the world is a downturn flying falling into the abyss
The end is near we know, yet we hope this will be bliss.
And, we're older now, not like we were in our 20's.
When we were swinging wild and crazy,
God, I loved the 90's, flower and music San Francisco.
Clinton was president and growth was in the air.
I was 23 and I was going everywhere.
Fashion, Art, Travel. We were going to do it all.
We did for a short time.
And then slowly one by one, we did fall.
Some of us still standing driven by success.
Ambition of sorts, still dressing to impress.
I woke up this morning and realized too
That what we have in our 20's is gone.
We can continue to try to recreate, but many people are tired.
So make new friends if you choose who want to party and light the fire.
But, let the old go. Let your old friends retire if they desire.
I'm big into letting go of anything in my wake.
I'm ready to live a free existence
Free from your aroused state.
I woke up remembering and regretting even what might have been
A Joan Baez circle was in my dream, and I woke up wishing I could just swim
Swim past these superficial, ambitious, superfluous simplicities
Success driven men and ladies all trying to get a piece
Like vultures grabbing for any little bit of accolades of acknowledgment
of money and of fame.
In my dream of course We were going to go, even though I say to myself No.
I staunchly and firmly believe in No Regrets,
but talking with an old friend also so far away
from where he once was
from where we once were and the things the things he once had offered
to me and himself
we've slowly slipped away
That good life is not far away, or maybe this cold war is the one thing I feared my entire life
of rationing and fight
of hiding, fear and flight
an economic recession a downturn of fiscal responsibilities
and we the people no longer holds meaning
Who would choose the grim snow over the island she mused,
and I recognize the fear he must have infused.
And his digression and regret in what he chose
When open mindedness and freedom lighted his abode
I once felt the same way.
But we could have traveled the world together I suppose
I'm sure we would have had I allowed to bloom that rose.
But I went with another garden, another gardener. I chose.
And, come on, afterall he was kind of a Ho.
So now we are two, friends still in the end, as I am with everyone
now and again
And the war is in full swing, it's the 20's, the 40's the 60's again.
With protesters and angry civilians
With global warming and a Black president
It's civil war and world war all over again.
We're broke and we're struggling with visions of grandeur in our minds
We crave the road and hope it will get us away from all this mess
But the world is a downturn flying falling into the abyss
The end is near we know, yet we hope this will be bliss.
And, we're older now, not like we were in our 20's.
When we were swinging wild and crazy,
God, I loved the 90's, flower and music San Francisco.
Clinton was president and growth was in the air.
I was 23 and I was going everywhere.
Fashion, Art, Travel. We were going to do it all.
We did for a short time.
And then slowly one by one, we did fall.
Some of us still standing driven by success.
Ambition of sorts, still dressing to impress.
I woke up this morning and realized too
That what we have in our 20's is gone.
We can continue to try to recreate, but many people are tired.
So make new friends if you choose who want to party and light the fire.
But, let the old go. Let your old friends retire if they desire.
I'm big into letting go of anything in my wake.
I'm ready to live a free existence
Free from your aroused state.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Thoughts of Drive on the Drive
I checked my eyes in the mirror
They were red
It was a long day behind the wheel
But
I'm glad to be here
Although the thoughts of drive kept surfacing all day
On the drive
So you are where you are today
One step at a time
It's not the end all be all.
I start wondering...
Quiet the words. I learn that in time.
Quiet the words that come out of their mouths.
And turn up the rock. Turn up the rock.
Turn off the clock.
They were red
It was a long day behind the wheel
But
I'm glad to be here
Although the thoughts of drive kept surfacing all day
On the drive
So you are where you are today
One step at a time
It's not the end all be all.
I start wondering...
Quiet the words. I learn that in time.
Quiet the words that come out of their mouths.
And turn up the rock. Turn up the rock.
Turn off the clock.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Check.
Teetering this close to the edge. New friends, old friends, tons of friends yes.
You are just where you need to be. right now. yes.
rock shows. check.
stripper poles fixed. check.
flash gifs. check.
moving forward not backward. check.
ads. check.
associations. check.
musicians. check.
work. check.
work. check.
You are just where you need to be. right now. yes.
rock shows. check.
stripper poles fixed. check.
flash gifs. check.
moving forward not backward. check.
ads. check.
associations. check.
musicians. check.
work. check.
work. check.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Sigh of Relief
I've got my Vodka Soda, sans lime and I'm sitting in my room, Friday night
in my boy-shorts and t-shirt, and I've nothing to write.
I've inspired and refreshed this week 1 I had dinner with my sexy Indian friend
we obsessed over anus and we talked about life, work, rules and getting older and fringe
err. I mean fake hair, what do you call it? My colored hair Extensions that reminded us of Crystal Taylor days.
We laughed and I sighed a sigh of relief. It's my girlfriends that know me, that make me Me.
I've inspired and rejuvenated like a vagina on pills. Not really more like a zap from the god's, the heavens, whatever, the planets they shifted and the clouds they lifted and I all of a sudden reveling in my lifestyle.
Where I no longer have to bill or wear a frock that doesn't suit me. Nor wear something day in and day out pretend to be professional more often than not. Instead I can wear belts and boots and hair extensions when I damn well please. God I love it.
I am really starting to become the fringe I know I can so well be.
And 2. The record, this album, this band. Progress is being made though it sometimes comes to a still stand. Every little bit counts, if you know what it means, networking and partying is all part of the mix.
Lesbian ladies all have gone to far away places. It's weird how I always befriend the transients. I can't make your home, though I've got this dream home, where I live with dudes, male energy, pure male energy. You want to find home, but somehow I resist. Got these walls up and don't let you in, unless you are you and you find you're way in, you know who you are you will find your way in.
I have to recognize my role in keeping you away. Ladies of the night. Ladies, even my friends. I know I do it.
But now I'm humbling, releasing and relaxing. Come over or not. Come over or not. If there was nothing else to do, there'd be parties here more often than you'd know what to do.
But, I moved out of domestication, and to move back in is the only thing I knew to do. I don't try to fight it either, I'm older and it's more comfortable, relaxing, the thing to do. But I will say I want it to change, for a few more years at least 5 to 10. But then my life will be something different all together. Something I wish to embrace. An endless drunkeness, happiness' craziness and grace.
in my boy-shorts and t-shirt, and I've nothing to write.
I've inspired and refreshed this week 1 I had dinner with my sexy Indian friend
we obsessed over anus and we talked about life, work, rules and getting older and fringe
err. I mean fake hair, what do you call it? My colored hair Extensions that reminded us of Crystal Taylor days.
We laughed and I sighed a sigh of relief. It's my girlfriends that know me, that make me Me.
I've inspired and rejuvenated like a vagina on pills. Not really more like a zap from the god's, the heavens, whatever, the planets they shifted and the clouds they lifted and I all of a sudden reveling in my lifestyle.
Where I no longer have to bill or wear a frock that doesn't suit me. Nor wear something day in and day out pretend to be professional more often than not. Instead I can wear belts and boots and hair extensions when I damn well please. God I love it.
I am really starting to become the fringe I know I can so well be.
And 2. The record, this album, this band. Progress is being made though it sometimes comes to a still stand. Every little bit counts, if you know what it means, networking and partying is all part of the mix.
Lesbian ladies all have gone to far away places. It's weird how I always befriend the transients. I can't make your home, though I've got this dream home, where I live with dudes, male energy, pure male energy. You want to find home, but somehow I resist. Got these walls up and don't let you in, unless you are you and you find you're way in, you know who you are you will find your way in.
I have to recognize my role in keeping you away. Ladies of the night. Ladies, even my friends. I know I do it.
But now I'm humbling, releasing and relaxing. Come over or not. Come over or not. If there was nothing else to do, there'd be parties here more often than you'd know what to do.
But, I moved out of domestication, and to move back in is the only thing I knew to do. I don't try to fight it either, I'm older and it's more comfortable, relaxing, the thing to do. But I will say I want it to change, for a few more years at least 5 to 10. But then my life will be something different all together. Something I wish to embrace. An endless drunkeness, happiness' craziness and grace.
wrote:
"Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually. Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will. But be drunken. And if sometimes, on the stairs of a palace, or on the green side of a ditch, or in the dreary solitude of your own room, you should awaken, and the drunkenness be half or wholly slipped away from you, ask of the wind, or of the wave, or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, of whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, wave, star, bird, clock, will answer you: 'It is the hour to be drunken! Be drunken, if you would not be martyred slaves of Time; be drunken continually! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will'
To which I say, work it has changed me, the desire for success somehow fits with domesticated bliss, but instead of falling asleep in married bliss, I alone staying up late in drunken madness, typing the words which fall on deaf ears. The work masks the silence.
And lesbians, gangsters, musicians and rockers all live on my street.
To which I say, work it has changed me, the desire for success somehow fits with domesticated bliss, but instead of falling asleep in married bliss, I alone staying up late in drunken madness, typing the words which fall on deaf ears. The work masks the silence.
And lesbians, gangsters, musicians and rockers all live on my street.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
stealth. whore.
I am not going to sit here and pretend it's all great
that the risk taking is all wonderful that it's so glamorous
and desirable
I will say that I am doing a lot and compromising a lot of comfort
for this art and this life
but often doth wondering if it's all worth it
when wind comes storming through the living room
like they own the place stomping their feet because they do not know how
to walk lightly with ease on their toes. stealth.
stealth.
no stealth to be aware of and no wealth. because he is cheap. he is my tenant. and I cannot stand him from within my core. his lacking of social skills and grace. of knowledge and social aptitude.
yet, having to listen to loud comments. it's so ugly. how much I ignore. an awful landlord. an awful whore.
my choice is to be angered and annoyed. or let that shit go. whore.
that the risk taking is all wonderful that it's so glamorous
and desirable
I will say that I am doing a lot and compromising a lot of comfort
for this art and this life
but often doth wondering if it's all worth it
when wind comes storming through the living room
like they own the place stomping their feet because they do not know how
to walk lightly with ease on their toes. stealth.
stealth.
no stealth to be aware of and no wealth. because he is cheap. he is my tenant. and I cannot stand him from within my core. his lacking of social skills and grace. of knowledge and social aptitude.
yet, having to listen to loud comments. it's so ugly. how much I ignore. an awful landlord. an awful whore.
my choice is to be angered and annoyed. or let that shit go. whore.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
My Roots
This rain it's killing me, the clouds the gloom I'm sinking into doom
He says things like if life sucks then you suck and he's right
I'm dreaming of a foreign land with lots of color
away from the vast drear that is America
Even though I stay close to the coasts and the cities
Los Angeles, San Francisco New York what have you
I'm still craving Bangkok, Shanghai, Beijing, Hong Kong, Ho Chi Minh
Ladies in eyeliner and men in suits trading money and temples in bars
and of course my boots
my roots
So I retreat back to my back room
where I slip into some colors no not a fucking negligee
not something more comfortable, how fucking cliche'
I'm taking about my hair and the stripes I stick in them
To make me feel more risque'
But when in reality I'm craving the road
some drugs
a drink
a party
something more than this
something somewhere else
something totally different than this
Part of me thinks I should go back to work for a few months
YOU fucking douche. You should write for a few months.
Keep writing, it's the only thing that keeps you sane.
Fucking winter months
I did not expect you to come so soon.
So you got some time on your hands. So you got some time on your hands,
No I hate twitter and facebook and myspace. I am not a networking beast.
Never really was. Always just wanted to be loved and adored. But don't want to put in that much work.
I make myself feel horrible and worse. I don't have it in me like you do.
I'm reading A. Burroughs and Listening to Steven M. and hanging out in Greensboro with M&M and I recognize the cynical gay man in me. Except perhaps sometimes I can be pretty. Well then what is the difference?
We're the same. But I got stuck, and sucked into this Hetero world, when I should have been slutting around Gay Sydney in my heels not Gay LA, it's pretty lame anyway. Ok, New York City?
Nah. Bangkok, oriental setting.
Either way, it seems pretty obvious to me anyway. I should develop some sort of addiction or affliction or ailment. Shouldn't I anyway? Do my nails. I guess it's that time anyway. Do my nails and paint my hair. Come sit down at this desk with a glass of wine. Shit, it's not even noon yet.
So, the world is supposedly coming to an end. And if that is the case, what would I really desire to do with my final dying days?
I don't even really have to think about it. Not sitting on twitter making friends. Not fucking talking to people on myspace whom I don't even know. That is not my forte'. Not how I roll. Some people can be friends with random people they meet online. Not me. And perhaps that is why I cannot promote this band the way you do. The way in perhaps I should. I cannot. I cannot. I don't get into it. Though perhaps I could. Maybe I just don't want to or don't give a fuck.
And this guy the other night. In between trying to sweet talk me, telling me that he fears rock n roll is dead. Where do we go he asks? If so, then what is it all for? What the fuck is it all for? None of this even fucking matters anymore. This stupid rock and roll world, and rock n roll dream. He surmises its all for the dead.
So then what? Where does that leave me? Well let's just sit here and think about it for a moment. Sit here and think about it long and hard for a dark dreary fucking moment.
Do I care about these therapists self help continuing educational units teleconferences you all keep trying to invite me to? Hell no.
Do I care about the strip club where the rock bands play? Probably not.
Do I care about the train station somewhere in the middle of the Sahara desert? Yes. Yes. Yes. I want to be back on the road with my camera and my pain. I want to document the colors.
It always goes back to the colors.
He says things like if life sucks then you suck and he's right
I'm dreaming of a foreign land with lots of color
away from the vast drear that is America
Even though I stay close to the coasts and the cities
Los Angeles, San Francisco New York what have you
I'm still craving Bangkok, Shanghai, Beijing, Hong Kong, Ho Chi Minh
Ladies in eyeliner and men in suits trading money and temples in bars
and of course my boots
my roots
So I retreat back to my back room
where I slip into some colors no not a fucking negligee
not something more comfortable, how fucking cliche'
I'm taking about my hair and the stripes I stick in them
To make me feel more risque'
But when in reality I'm craving the road
some drugs
a drink
a party
something more than this
something somewhere else
something totally different than this
Part of me thinks I should go back to work for a few months
YOU fucking douche. You should write for a few months.
Keep writing, it's the only thing that keeps you sane.
Fucking winter months
I did not expect you to come so soon.
So you got some time on your hands. So you got some time on your hands,
No I hate twitter and facebook and myspace. I am not a networking beast.
Never really was. Always just wanted to be loved and adored. But don't want to put in that much work.
I make myself feel horrible and worse. I don't have it in me like you do.
I'm reading A. Burroughs and Listening to Steven M. and hanging out in Greensboro with M&M and I recognize the cynical gay man in me. Except perhaps sometimes I can be pretty. Well then what is the difference?
We're the same. But I got stuck, and sucked into this Hetero world, when I should have been slutting around Gay Sydney in my heels not Gay LA, it's pretty lame anyway. Ok, New York City?
Nah. Bangkok, oriental setting.
Either way, it seems pretty obvious to me anyway. I should develop some sort of addiction or affliction or ailment. Shouldn't I anyway? Do my nails. I guess it's that time anyway. Do my nails and paint my hair. Come sit down at this desk with a glass of wine. Shit, it's not even noon yet.
So, the world is supposedly coming to an end. And if that is the case, what would I really desire to do with my final dying days?
I don't even really have to think about it. Not sitting on twitter making friends. Not fucking talking to people on myspace whom I don't even know. That is not my forte'. Not how I roll. Some people can be friends with random people they meet online. Not me. And perhaps that is why I cannot promote this band the way you do. The way in perhaps I should. I cannot. I cannot. I don't get into it. Though perhaps I could. Maybe I just don't want to or don't give a fuck.
And this guy the other night. In between trying to sweet talk me, telling me that he fears rock n roll is dead. Where do we go he asks? If so, then what is it all for? What the fuck is it all for? None of this even fucking matters anymore. This stupid rock and roll world, and rock n roll dream. He surmises its all for the dead.
So then what? Where does that leave me? Well let's just sit here and think about it for a moment. Sit here and think about it long and hard for a dark dreary fucking moment.
Do I care about these therapists self help continuing educational units teleconferences you all keep trying to invite me to? Hell no.
Do I care about the strip club where the rock bands play? Probably not.
Do I care about the train station somewhere in the middle of the Sahara desert? Yes. Yes. Yes. I want to be back on the road with my camera and my pain. I want to document the colors.
It always goes back to the colors.
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