Dearest Rich,

You see, I love your Ween.

It's always been hard for me because I've always considered Ween to be your band. Like in any relationship, individuals bring something in. Flatware, CDs, the VCR, a dog, nipple clamps, etc. You always shared Ween, but it was always somehow yours to share. Then one day, I took your Ween out for a spin and fell in love with your Ween.

You never complained and even graciously encouraged me to snort your Ween. But, I always felt a bit guilty. You know...awkward. I didn't want to schnebble all your Ween or nothin', but once I ate one, I couldn't stop.

So, thanks for letting me smoke all your Ween, sucka. I keeping it all for myself and not giving any back.

Your pal,

-tyrone

P.S. Fuck!

When I hear young children cry
I’m saddened to a core place – biologically
Weakened in unimaginable ways

I miss my family
My reason to breathe
And take all these pills
Like I miss my innocence

fucking angels in my head
the madness of the obvious

07.31.03

The production-consumption ration
Still unsettled after all these decades
Intense weight on psyches
And fatigue on internal components

Dreams
As black as void
As white as all
As dead as nothing
As past as history

Since it is always fiction
Contrived since inception
To be feared when not ignored
Reality is the real god

True as truth
One-quarter of a beat ahead
With full commitment realized
Blissfully floating above human topography

07.31.03

what is whole is
contingent of personal glossary entries
if space is time

experienced through spot lighted
cargo holds of hurling humans
eastward-bound together coincidentally

mind’s eye memories of hallucinations
but beautiful symmetry nonetheless
perfect logic clearly communicated

yeah, I’m terrified too
but, unfortunately, this is what we left you
if you can remedy, please

07.31.03

Prolog:

Walking sticks for a modern age
Skateboard shoes to mark my rage
Undercover mainstream tax-paying yellow belly
Forgetting at all to remember my age

Body:

Taking for granted the walking and talking
I kiss the rig of gods and
Try to put aside speculation of
Variants of fate without much success

What would change?

Often I awake to new realities
In different places alone or
Trapped in the prisons of mind or body
Empathy to a degree of unbelievable proportions

A hot, persistent, dry wind
Under blue skies in places
Where our society has created
Drawers in which we can
Hide all that appears to be untidy

Epilog:

Steely persistence after all the tears

07.31.03

You cannot help what's in your nature
Ahh, jah Rasta man sing-song life
From Damascus to Kashmir
Will I become so wholly eccentric
and woefully low self-monitoring?

Consequences of vanity run amok
With no restraints tied to ego
Or class or career

Just as long as I remember
To wear pants on a daily basis
And remain mindful of clichés and
Refrain from singing aloud too often

Since it was all over even
Before it all began
My efforts can be relieved
Of the burden of giving
A rat’s ass

Minnesota Blue(s) 07.30-31.03

Dying
All inside going deeper now
Heros not what they used to be
Drooling wizards of the north star state
Trapped like visitors to new planets

Shopping
With heads buried in sands
Sanctioned by the president and the other Hitlers
My very worst enemy a codependent me
Wanting without the why-ing

Bleeding
All ideas opinions beliefs creativity
From my anus
When the toilets do not flush
And snacks are forbidden in this motel

Hiding
From the masses of truths
Of the reinvented American century
Only to awake alone and sweaty
And so fundamentally detached

Running
Concentric circles around the
Moon and the sun so red
Suicide and chronic depression are
Only theater for drama queens

God Bless Me?! 07.21.03

Is it not you
So young and impressionable
Supple and porous
Glaring at me with
That glazed one-yard stare?

Hypnotized with promises
Of eternal life
Wings, harps and visits with dearly departed grandma
Always absolutely right AND
Correct beyond debate

A mere child looking down
Your nose with pity
At what has to be
A heathen of the grandest scale
Me beyond belief

Untitled 06.23.03

Long ago I realized just how truly
Pathetic I am
We all are

I have been at the paramount JUST long enough
And JUST enough times that I know what I’m missing

It goes way back – to the day
Lives of self-censored lies

What is real happens to be real

Although I try to live I ultimately
Fail time and time again to fulfill potential

But now I no longer care

Deconstruction 06.23.03

When it starts to break down
It really snowballs from here
From outside outliers to the inner circles
of questionable deal making and promises broken
To that filthy coating of oils and sins
that tends to cover you from neck to knee

When it starts to break down
It really flows like lava with
relentless power and electricity
Pretensions balanced on delicate fulcrums
Played pop hits of the retro ages
I have become like the recipient of spewed venom

We bring me here for checks
And balances proves far from simple
Nothing is ever simple anymore
Even sleep proves elusive
I feel the effects of mileage

I have to be near the end of lines
Like water that appears to very flat
When all along it is so round
And endless
like nightmares

tonight
i saw
this year's
first
firefly

Filthy fingers of newsprint and recycled contaminants
Mind blindingly void of thoughts of merit
Dirty. Everything so post-pristine
Indictments of our inner souls

Of god and money and choices hard
And exclusive of peace intra or extra
When did religion and government incorporate?

One would have predicted (from here)
That clarity and simplicity would prevail
Yet only awe-struck bewilderment at
Self-imposed complexities are evident

Confusion over time is exponential
Experience loads the burden of morality

Logic and history suggest a vicious defeat
Punishment for our collective self-contempt
Even the old guy said it is the end of time
Yet my maso-optimism borders on despair

I lie awake in wonder and anticipation

waiting for the light
donkey and the might
heros in the fight
it all results in night

we waste our lonely need
in pools of wasted seed
the people did not feed
to pad our lives with greed

Found the following note - in 14-point Times New Roman - today:

Boss,

F.Y.I. The following accounts are negative balance--supplies, ac heat, tv, furniture and fixtures, light bulbs

Yep. That IS interesting stuff. "The journey" is always fabulously interesting.
Global stuff is great, but so is the US spectrum of "journey."

Whether it is the original or subsequent populating of the continent or the migration forks - south to north - of the Mexicans or former slave blacks.

Then, there are the personal journeys. Nepal to Chicago; Los Angeles to Gaithersburg.

The Journey.

epiphanies over manhattan
boston deserted save cabbies and runners
spring on the river charles

3-D models and the grids of brooklyn...queens
and the spilled coffee on my feet
i discovered the beauty of this swamp

how do you fly this damn thing

Klein broke half the rules of photography and ignored the other half, and when he first published his pictures, he offended nearly everyone.

Yeah, I know I have tables due. Tables. Appendicies. Data.

But, I got stuck on the Tori Spelling website. Then, it was a natural progression to Jennie Garth. Then Peter Facinelli.

God, I do hate myself.

Losing your home
Like losing your mind
Leaves the memory damaged
Recall analogous to silvery colanders

Images roughly similar
But surprisingly different
The way illuminated
Like dreams

The homeless mayor
Of cities past and present
Lost and anonymous
Amid successors anew

Going back is never an option