10.07.2003

Tiny images of vast emptiness(es)
Obsessively compulsively spinning in doomed circles
Thoughts wander without purpose nor focus
If it is a leisurely life sought
prepare for hard work ahead

Barters for coffee
Punishment for tea
It's good to live inland
For fear of the sea

Looking upwards to a pinprick of light
Waiting waiting for events foretold
By passing gypsies and assorted pickpockets
Concurrent wearing and aging and dying too
A depression as wide as deep

10.03.2003

Just too much anxiety over
Desperation emanating from every pore
Frozen with promise of human rites
Which are human wrongs consequently

9.26.2003

I used to attract moths
Shushing roomfuls of characters
Snapping necks of barking dogs
Chaos quelled like a deity
To simplify
Reducing things to fundamental elements
But – as with all things human – where
Are lines drawn?
Who minds the limits
Who minds boundaries

Endless analyses and questioning
Antithesis of simplicity and
Complication’s very bestest pal – collaborators

Much more organic than synthesized
The two over the one
Water dripping onto black holes
And kicking at clouds

Batteries on last legs
Despite myths of desperate
Last ditch surges
Simplicity of the end of conservation
To be among the family again
The comfort in knowledge of affinity
So eager the tears – welling
My only mistakes are in timing as always
But the wonderment is worth the waiting
Subtle like eyebrows feet or thighs

Panache spilling over authentic
Able to be only myself without act
Sadness temporarily interrupted by life real
Interrupted by the time moving forward
Awakening mid afternoon in time for teas
Open except inside my secured fortress

The kids today…
Will they know what I know ever?
What I will never know?
Is recapitulation and endless loop of
Stills wound fast – a horse in full gallop?

The edge of caffeine-induced vomit
In a former grand ballroom painted
With cheap green and furnished
With thrift store furniture

Middlespace is a half-eaten carrot cake
For instance or the doubts of matter

Again my time is expiring here
The meter running out – alarms sounding
And the sadness will return (sigh)

Accept
Or
Stop
Another day without harm
About as big as your finger
Bleeding in and out of lucid beliefs
All the while feeling superiorly unimportant

Pathetically desperate for validation
And drowning in the ooze
Of the taste for human meats
A thing for the soft tissues and large muscles

After some coffee and some time alone
And the customary dredge for muck
A deep dank still sleep with the
Promise for rebirth awaiting

Being so full so quickly after
Being so empty so long after
Neither caring nor wanting
Is generally - and surprisingly - shocking to the system

An acceptance of selves satisfied
With sins and baggage forgiven
Peace and relief are identical twins
Joined at palms with hearts beating in unison

And there is still reason to live

This is Random

Random ovals

[Previously Untitled]

Again with the thoughts
Haven’t you learned anything?
Seeping faux genius

Wandering focus
Internal conversations
Over Iowa

Of love and passion
Mean spirited interplay
Narrow shallow lives and lies

Wrong turns at junctions
Continuous debriefings
When is enough enough?

Volcanoes in clouds
Retirement is never safe
The pace is deadly

To finish my thoughts
Over the mid-western plains
Free beer and pretzels
Heightened senses of awareness
Paranoia mediated by instincts

The depths are still frightening
Drill-down to situations not of our control
Or, maybe it's really getting scarier yet, the world

Or maybe experience teaches
Circumstances change perspectives
Evolution occurs regardless

Imagination, being what it is, has
Powerful effects on perceptions
And vice versa

The nature of things
You know, stuff, you know

Clarity is a motherfucker
Befuddling is likewise

Sharp pointy things
Running amok

Distillation is key
Simpler elemental thinking
"The California protagonist belongs to no establishment, a born renegade fond of mocking the shabby masquerades (of traffic courts and dictionaries and jails) with which the corrupt officials in city hall or Chinatown seek to imprison the noble savage dreamed of in the philosophy of Jean-Jacques Rousseau."

- Lewis H. Lapham
From National Airport

Oh, to be a
supplier of cheap blue
size 54 suits in DC
now-a-days

(i'd be one rich man in the party of huah)
Triplets in my head
Pills on my mind
Politics in my brain

Although dreams from two days ago
Have begun to fade
Still I am horrified at the
Depth, detail and genius
of places I went that night

A warren of art, magic and passion
Webs of storyboard images spun
From molten metals
Like cartoon spiders answering God

Of smokes and touches
Wary interpretations of
How things should be
versus how they are

The point of decompression
Can only be found in the memories
Of dreams to make reality envious
If my brain can do that
I prefer sleeping

9.03.2003

As my daughter begins to more fully interact with this world and she begins to show personal preferences, I realize that some day she will completely embrace her life as her own, rejecting external controls and dependency structures of her parents.

She will march to the tune of her own motorcycle.

How do I know? I fully rejected my parents at seventeen, moved out and never really looked back in any substantive manner. But, until now, I never realized that on the other side, from the parental perspective, the hurt that was probably inflicted. Being the center of your personal universe for so long results in lost opportunities; lost potential of an unselfish kind.

Whether it’s when she decides to venture to Costa Rica when she’s fourteen or when she heads off to college (or the circus, for that matter), the emptiness will come suddenly and deeply. Sure, maybe she may spend holidays with us, but she will develop her own world where we are but minor components. If we get the weekly call, we will cherish like life itself. Then I will be able to die alone and afraid, surrounded by strangers.

They all say, “enjoy it while it lasts” because it won’t last forever.

Nothing does.

8.29.2003

okay, answer me this?

i was bored at work (oh, shocking!) so i somehow found myself at Afrodavid.

i haven't been there (or, been THERE) in some time.

am i crazy? or, am i genius?

i needs to gets back to my art.

some stuff i do scares me.

8.25.2003

The Nostalgia of Light

I noticed it, unofficially, a couple weeks ago. It was just a moment in an otherwise miserable day. But with this weekend behind, we are now in what I’m calling the nostalgic days. The air is light and the light is airy. The sky has returned to a deep unnatural blue from its vacation of milky, humid opaque. Autumn is being phased in again.

During nostalgic days the brain remembers that autumn is a time of invigorating bliss; when the cool air returns and the mosquitoes die. The shadows deepen, mornings are dark and everything becomes all contrast-y again. Breathing becomes easy and life’s woes subside. The leaves change from an overly officious uniformity of greens to a masquerade ball of individualism and whimsy that culminates in Halloween and death. In autumn, we snuggle again. We mow the fields one last time and we ride out the slide into darkness and productivity.

The threat and misery of winter is well over the horizon. The beleaguered days of the mid-Atlantic summer fades like a bad memory. Fortunately for the humans, the memories of pain are never keen. In January, we’ll all pray for July again. The shoulders, autumn and spring, make living in the east worthwhile. The monotony of hundreds of perfect California days, while glorious, faints into the background of being.

I’ve grown to appreciate the work involved in the long march to the shoulders.
Sometimes, and it doesen't matter where, if it itches enough, you just have to reach around and scratch your ass.

- thought on Woodmont Ave.

8.19.2003

Today - and, oddly, it was confirmed by all the machines - was a day of twos. Twos were everywhere. The metaphor; symbols; codes; ciphers; patterns. There was no escaping the omen. It was as clear as identical twins.

Dyad. Pair. Deuce. Dub. Dos. Twin. Both. 2. Too. A basketball shot. The peace sign. Yin/yang. Congress. Coasts. Couple. Feet. Hands. Eyes. Ears. Nostrils. Testicles. Breasts. Nipples. Knees. Clap. Stereo.

Unfortunately, obviously, I haven't made any connections yet.

8.11.2003

My...

Today's been a real education.

History intersecting with future.

Oh, my...

8.06.2003

People take vacations to the Mall of America. It's surrounded by hotels of every ilk; from the swanky to the seedy. The mall itself, from the outside is one ugly hulk of parking garages and angles. Half-assed landscaping and American flags. Shuttle buses rush backing and forthing to any of the four main entrances; old, fat, pasty white middle Americans - and their cookie cutter MTV/X-Games/hip-hop offspring depart empty handed and embark with bags from all the stores you find at any of the other seventeen million malls found from sea to shining silver dollar.

Inside, it's the most depressing place I've ever been. Worse than any two-bit casino in Reno or Atlantic City. Worse even than river boat casinos in East St. Louis. Mall of America is a big mall. Five levels. Amusement park. Gap. Victoria Secret. It's a big "So what." I took my camera to maybe get some killer black and whites of old, fat, pasty white middle Americans - and their cookie cutter MTV/X-Games/hip-hop offspring...shopping. I took no pictures.

Yeah, personal shop-bots. Teen to twenties bleach-blonds to smile broadly and pace your personal shopping experience. You book an hour, shop-bots help you shop forever. The exits aren't marked. Why bother leaving if you still have money or haven't maxed out your thirty-two credit cards that you were pre-approved for sometime back when? Don't forget the food court.
I'm kinda hungry.