love is not a chaser for alcohol.

i fear too much
like the company you are able to provide
it makes my soul rejoice
and my heart shake
with lack of confidence to be enough for you.

that i could have written this myself, i might feel more comfortable. or maybe just more entangled in the emotions that lead to writing down thoughts like this. alas, this is what she wrote to me. and it seems unfair. maybe it's unfair of me to say. this flood of emotions rampaging through the valley to the bay...only a trickle for 6 months prior. my lame summation: i'm glad you could finally make it here. it's more than that. i'm glad because for so long i've had to come to terms with what i believed was rejection, or at least the ending of a chapter. and then we turn the page.

seeing you was hard only cuz now i can't stop thinkin about you
i wish i could curl up in your arms tonight

this is where i am at a loss. the page turned. a new chapter. but the distance still remains. and i've been wondering if the distance was what kept us together in the past. or maybe the adventures shared allowed us to keep that distance, always a distracting view...does infatuation make us closer? even when our lives are separate? i'm confused...what's new? but i know the wishing and desires that come along with separation. the sorrow at the dead end of communication. you taught that to me. and i'm not sure if i can dredge up such feelings again without a sour look on my face. instead, let's enjoy what was, is, and continues to be us, as vague and sauntering as that silhouette can be. let us be careful in this chapter.

Today

Hey Patrick,
I finally found this termite infested paper to get this one off on. A stamp blew out of the wind today as did an envelope,
thought I'd scratch out a few pages.

Another sleepless night for me It's almost 7AM my time there are things I'm trying to get accomplised in my time.
Lara and I are going to finish the downstairs apt.
The same one you came down here to help me finish
Life goes on within you are without you....I still do Beatles Sunday.

I'm phoneless sometime domeday I'll get one that acually works i'm up to eleven in the canal and am feeling no remorse.
I need to recoate the roof that you did four years ago.
Thanks buddy.
Needs a new one.
So I might say got some work cut out for me being a ho-moaner
How's life in the big city, all i remember is take advantage as you are not a stanger.
Rape it for everything it has to offer.
Someday you'll look back and say to yourself and say I might still be here
Tripped over a 1/2 oz of bud on the way back from the little store.
Life is good.
Drinking a Steel Reserve for breakfast
not much has changed.
Put on some stanlet clarke one of the greatest bass player's i've ever head.
I think the weed and the steel are kickin in.

I don't do paragrahfs well, but I waste as much paper as I do to save some.

As you might tell I'm very relaxed at the moment.
why not be?
I don't breed stress and I don't need it in my life.
On the darker side of life I have to go to the houshing #

because

Clyde has fucked me out of 5 grand. I will never let
let this happen to me again if i have to take legal matters into my hands I will.
It sucks but let the old fucking law take over.
This has been fun but I'm going to take a nap now
meeting Lara in four hours.

I've been up 74 hours now going for the guiness, not the world's record, just another pint.

(future update) Clyde and i have come to an agreement
I get his pick up truck and he walks away free
I need to get back to work
Life is good.

Keep playing the odds
As Always,
Dad

should i stay or should i go?

"it seems worth checking out. i mean, a bunch of cute girls who are on the prowl?" he says.
i understand. prey meets prey. it's worth it...if you get laid. what the fuck ever. why should i be guilt tripped. everytime i choose to go home there's something great that happens. everytime i try to go out nobody wants to go. what does that mean? i hate this. the feeling of inadequacy and belittlement because i missed an experience.

maybe i saved myself from a bad experience. or maybe i missed the best night of my life.
these two contrasts dominate my night life.

why can't i just be pleased with my own decisions? why do i let others move my emotions?
i need all my mental capacity to calm the frustration in my head. i want to burn away like rice paper, non-existent in the wind. no longer caring about the what-if, this naive attempt at feeling a conquest, power over another. drunken fuckin one night stands. that's what it boils down to.

tonight, rod said there is a way of connecting ourselves to the source of happiness. a feeling that permeates from everyone, an assurance of being alive and loved. the feeling that dissolves all fogs of insecurity and vulnerability. i need it. we all do, but we're so confused that this seeking has been diluted to the quest for money and beauty. the physical. another addiction. samsara anonymous. hi, my name is sandy badger, and i'm afraid, angry, hungry for everything. or maybe old yeller. put me out of my misery, literally, not figuratively.
i don't want to die:
i want to share substance and performance and eloquence and benevolence of the soul we all possess to share.

right now at 2:31 am i'm sitting at my window looking down on the street.

dad said once, on a balcony, "i'm good at looking down on people."

there are 3 cop cars closing down the block outside my house because of two cars of kids, maybe my age, younger (?), either way, it's been a while since they've been fucking with these kids. i can't establish what happened that led to 6 to 8 cops (maybe i'm missing a car) to interrogate people in front of my window for the last 40 minutes. i can only sympathize with the kids. they were probably only trying to get high. who knows. i don't what's ironic, is here i am at 2:31 drunk and free to be me in my abode! just yesterday i engaged in a debate with friends over the liberty to kill oneself through indulgence, and societies obligation to protect those individuals from themselves...or, as Beardo said, not to protect as much as to encourage and promote the upbringing of a community that cares and takes an active role in the members of the community. it sounds like lateral decision making to me, as if the "community" can somehow contain an understanding and awareness of the line between enjoyment and abuse. as if there is an objective critical approach to understanding everyone's psychology through one lens, one microscope. then again, i was taking the libertarian side of the debate. why can't we get fucked up as long as we aren't hurting anyone? but there again, we hit the fork of ideology and reality. people get fucked up, people do stupid shit. mistakes, maybe. but it happens anyway. but the question remains, is the moral compass set by the masses? do we know what we're doing? a lot of people believe they know, and that level of certainty is something to be cautious of.

at 2:50, the cops are driving away, arrests made, people released to the streets on the streets. free to roam where they were just free to roam. like buffalos, only not being shot at or being caged in a zoo...yet. alanis morissette can go fuck herself right now.

and at 2:51, all is quiet on the western front of 26th street...it actually might be the first time since i moved here that i could leave my window open and lie in peace. i should use this time to get some sleep...

...a car starts in the street. it's the kids who just got pulled over, getting back into the car that the police forbid them to return to (as they were so fucked up), the car they promised not to return to, as they could walk home. and here's the police following right behind them...goodnight moon.

what's wrong with crazy sad? everything apparently...

know what else is addictive? MUSIC. i'm glad there's no stigma involved in being an audioholic. and right now, i'm completely hooked on lil wayne. i know how late on the sleazy pathetic bandwagon i am. i've always been late to pick up on popular rap artists. i mean, what is there to like about a mass marketed black icon with a gun in one hand the other around a) money b) alcohol/drugs c) another firearm d) a beautiful woman. at the same time, the moron in me says, what isn't there to like about these idolized rhymers?

the misogyny.
the materialism.
the religion.
the unbelievably moronic fanbase.
not even knowing what hip hop is supposed to mean anymore
(and probably lacking in experience to ever know).

either way.
all those concepts that have been exploited to sell records and sell some sort of image...or express it...whichever side of the art influencing culture debate you take, one fact remains:
lil wayne is crazy.
not fucking gnarls barkley crazy.
charles manson crazy.
lil wayne crazy.
it's scary and ridiculous at the same time.
the beauty of this guy is that you can't take a word of it seriously. i'm not sure if he takes it seriously either. of course, most average people love sex, money, status items, but how many people dedicate a 9 minute track to smoking a blunt and philosophizing about topics ranging from hating al sharpton, his neighbor getting arrested for selling crack resulting in a sex offender moving into the apartment, and speaking on the fact that it's cheaper to send a black youth to college than it is to imprison them? it's amazing the things said on a microphone, even more so when the person has striven their whole life to have the ear of the masses, acquires that, and then this is what they say! i'm not saying it's genius. it's nothing new, just a different voice. strange times with strange people, but i'll raise my pimp chalice to lil wheezy.

I'm REALLy good whEN tT COMES dowN To bLuNNdER.

today
it might be mond
ay

August 4TH. I'm
REALLy good whEN
tT COMES dowN To
bLuNNdER. I doN'T
KNow who I'm scRib
bLing AT. MusT bE
youR TuRN!

I'vE

LosT my TRain of

ThoughT. Am I iN The middLe of
THoughT depREv
iNsy. *

goe's

To show you ho'w
The fuck's REaLLy
ouT hERE!

moNdAy

I was wRiTT*
iNg
To BiLLy buT
CRosES musT hAVE
cRoSEd. I hopE
youR doiNg wELL
I LOVE you LiTTc
LiTTLE bRoThER
How's Life TREATin2
iN The big ciTy







my dAys ARE SpEnT
'N soLiTudE. LARA
sTops by oN occaTsioc
I'Ts hARd foR me To
WRiTE! I hAvE TEN
LETrR's To mAiL
ouT. I'f iT wAsNT'
foR hER. ShE ALwA
ys
show's up bRokE
buT

hAs posTAgE iN
/ hER * PocKET. This
is ThE REASON I
CAN WRiTE TO you.
I'vE bEEN KickEN
The shiT on ThE dRum
music KEEps comiNg
my wAy.PhiL my
bAcksToor RENTER
gAve mE CD's STANLEy

CLARKE, ThE bEsT
pLAyer you'vE
EEVER
hEAR'd ON bASS.
JEAN-LUC PONTy on
JAzz FiddLE AND GREEN
PEACE WARRIORS

my Life is WELL. BE-
eing boRN EVERy mo--
menT. I cAN fiNd
No hopE iN whAT's
found.

I'm NoT SuRE WhAT
ORdER This is iN wiTH
BE KiND To your--
SELf. KEEP up ThE
good Looks I know
you'LL fiNd hER ouT -
ThERE somEdAy oR
somETimE. WELCOME
TO yOUR NEW LifE
AgaiN.
As ALwAys
DA'D

the absinthe of proof is not proof of absinthe.

i just had a really weird thought: what if i was the most quiet person on earth? obviously it's not true because i'm typing now, but just before this. and during that weird firing of ganglia and synapses i quickly became aware of how ridiculous this thought was, and the amount of people who were trying to be quiet at that moment on the earth, and their situations and the crazy things they were doing and for what extremely disturbing or righteous reasons that may be. it's always the quiet ones. sneaksneaksneak.

on a lighter note: i'm watching THE POWER OF NIGHTMARES, straussian philosopher's beware. ever get the feeling that you're afraid of everything?

yah, probably another leo strauss attack.
it sucks when you begin to see the scope of the world through the eyes of someone who rushed home to watch gunsmoke. i understand that materialism and selfish ignorant arrogance has overrun society. i ain't hatin'. well, maybe i am.

WAKE THE FUCK UP EVERYONE
[easier said than done]

why do we have to fear everything?
why are we so twisted that enjoyment can never be peaceful?
why can't we just a have a drink and a puff and remember, enjoy, celebrate in what the depths of philosophy and arts and thousands of years of culture and society has amalgamated to instead of brooding over the minor details.

whether it be seeking justice and some fucked up visage of an aristotlelian wet dream, pursuing some twisted and absurd motive justified by "god's will," or jerking off to the latest music video by whatever blonde poop star is being pushed by the meat market: you might want to start ruminating on what it is you call a life.

time is limited. we are small. let's all agree that we try to stay aware of our actions and let them flow from a compassion towards what we are, rather than a fear of what we are not or could be.

most importantly: a) don't take any of this seriously. b) make your own decisions.

take it from dr. badger:

scared of clowns? let's go to the circus!
not sure if dog's will bite you when you're about to pet them? cover your hand in animal fat.
can't swim? use your hands and hold air in your lungs. buoyancy, idiot.
worried about your next car payment? sell your car.
feeling nervous about approaching that "special someone?" open your heart. buoyancy, idiot.
threatened by something, anything, anyone? laugh. if they don't laugh with you, run.
scared of assholes? finger yours. we all have one.
can't find the time? please, just fucking do it. you need it.
looking for substance? pinch yourself.
uneasy about confronting conflict? make yourself big and make loud noises...or is that for dealing with bears?
can't remember why you're here? i can't explain. all we can do is remind each other.
milk taste bad? check the expiration date, dummy.
afraid of death? everyone dies, get over it. this one takes time, really. get over it.
afraid of change? everything changes, get over it. this one takes time, really. get over it.
don't know what to think anymore? it gets worse. find your safe place.
actually: make your safe place. finding is frustrating, making is possible.
scared of making? cover yourself in paint and run the streets wild. we've been waiting for you.

love is blue...let's not fool ourselves. be honest. don't be candid. we always do that. always hold a distance and wait for the other to open up, like matryoshka dolls. more apt, we rest across a valley from one another, boulders on mountaintops we once climbed.

our everlasting metaphor: the mountain. strenuously, laborious to exhaustion, we strive upwards to unknown peaks and summits. but the physical can dominate a relationship. it's hard to have a conversation when you're breathless.

we spent our time enjoying company but enjoying the adventure more. and when the adventure ended, so did the company. it's funny, because i want to feel sad, play the clown, feel heartbreak. and sometimes i do. or at least i think i do. maybe i want to feel it. and who knows what IT is?
anything your neuropeptides communicate. anything your heart desires.
anything god wills (just kidding, but some people believe that and it worries me).

how do i cope without her? disconnection.
no more mountains.
apathy.
alcohol.
the same old me.

that's my AA, apathy and alcohol...

...that was meant as a joke but it's not that funny. i laugh anyway. because as smokey said, "my smile is my makeup i've worn since our breakup."
there i go again.
acting dramatic.
acting dramatic. is that an oxymoron?

either way, we had a great time together, and the parting of ways was the fuckin' way she goes...

Explaining simply without a more worldly tone the reason for the empty bottle’s now more musical quality.

I hope that's a typo...withOUT a worldly tone?
she's probably right.
i like to imagine myself as a renaissance man, but more often i look the fool.
either way, her memories are more expressive than mine, more eloquent.
memory is fragile, she cradles hers like a champagne flute.
mine, like a pint glass. occasionally spilled and broken.
and she is right.
i let a girl in.
in fact, i'd been waiting a long time to let her in.
and this could be where i become inspired, expansive, explain the sordid details of my first
*cough*gag*
"true love."
let's not do this here. not now. i'm still not sure what to think.
ferment your rose petals and distill a drop for the last sip of the evening.

one of these days...one of these days...POW! right in the kisser.

1. 

Human: i'm sick of you







ALICE: I pray that you get well soon.

what would jesus meat?

Just because you eat healthy and pay too much for your food doesn’t make you a better person, only poorer, and I’m not talking financially.
You’re telling my boss about all the times you’ve been in the butcher shop.
“There’s always something that doesn’t look fresh,” you say, “but your product is for the most part good, and I want to support that. That’s why I shop here.”
My boss is nodding considerately, but I know she’s focusing all her mental energy into not jumping over the counter and smacking you around for a few hours.
“Come over to this side of the counter and see what the meat looks like,” you continue.
“It’s not where you’re standing,” my boss states, “I can tell from here if the meat is bad.”
She goes on, explaining to you again how long she’s worked with food and all the legitimate reasons you shouldn’t be worried about what we are providing, but you don’t seem convinced. Instead, you seem to be trying to convince us of our ineptitude, or perhaps how much you know about organic grass fed beef.
My other boss says you just have some weird aggressive flirtation thing with Tia. She says this scene has developed from months of Tia ignoring your attention.
Is that it?
Everytime you come in you’re asking for Tia to butcher your meat. I don’t blame you. Tia’s hot. And as I’ve been told, people who yield knives get respect.
If Darwin could throw in his two cents, he might say it’s natural to be attracted by the provider of food. You’ll live longer if you hook up with someone who works with food. We get to bring some home for free!
If I could throw in my two cents, I might tell you to go to hell. But I won’t. You’re a “good customer.”
Now you’re saying, “I want to support your business, I want to see you all succeed, but it’s hard when I can’t trust in the quality of your food.”
You rant…for entirely way too long. Why won’t you leave? Oh yes, Tia’s still paying attention. That’s why you want her on the other side of the counter. You want to check out dat ass. Meat slapping. That’s all this is.
You leave unsatisfied in another failed attempt to get through to Tia. You don’t understand. All you want is good food, maybe someone to share it with. Meanwhile, I’m yelling behind you that you haven’t signed your receipt. You run back, embarrassed, but not publicly.
“Sorry,” you say, “I guess I got wrapped up in that whole thing.”
“No worries,” I say.
All meat gets wrapped up eventually.

trading spaces

i just found some of my original (and only) blog posts from myspace that i thought would be interesting because i'm deleting the account (and creatively lazy tonight).
these are so not worth reposting...


on writing Friday, April 07, 2006
my writing is what it is. consecutive words on a page. symbols without meaning. philosophy without soul. death without any closure.
...at least i'm not playing video games all day.


the innocence of the devil Thursday, April 06, 2006
I just breathed in. Wouldn't you know, I inhaled ceasar's last breath! It was stale and coated my lips with distrust. A hint of olive pervaded my nostrils. I now look to the sky and see the multi-faceted web of gems, blinding me with its reflective beauty. The light leaks through my retina like the sun pierces the ruby stone. For a moment, peace is mine.


a new day Monday, April 03, 2006
when i was a smarter human being in this world, yet still not being in this world. when a girl was just a girl and not a life decision. when this keyboard was less an extension of my thought and i was ollying the soap box instead of standing on it. when nihilism was still just a confusing word in a dictionary. when my love abounded ignorant of restraints. when when when did any of this exist, and where did it stop doing the same?


thawed mud and stripped clothing Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Maybe I'm wrong but a song isn't just a song and a strong "ism" just created a long pause. Emancipate yourself from the grandfather clause. Talk to Gods with psychadelic frogs. Ask them the question for which your heart truly longs. But feel free to forget while you toke on your bongs. Because the groove's on this vinyl don't skip and the moves on your rival won't stick cuz rubber ain't glue so your libel. Purpose is lost in this haze of purple porpoises and grimy bar stools. Sand stuck in my sandals.
Remember that?

A man at that same sticky fallen ground said "It's not rocket surgery."
If he thinks so, there must be hope for humanity.