the unknown

you don't know me; in fact, it's a pretty safe bet that even if you had met me, you wouldn't have any recollection of it. i'm the new guy, the stranger; invisble man. i walk through a crowd and people are only vaguely aware of shape, maybe, an outline, a shimmer, a glint out of the corner of an inattentive eye. but never a focused image. its almost like my person is made of something inherently blurry, vaseline on camera lens. or perhaps more accurately- inherently shadowed. eyes can never quite settle in one place long enough to get a fix, take a reading, but rather swim around uselessly. and this is no pity party- rather a fact, an apparent fundamental truth of my existence, proven countless times, in endless maddening repetition, more constant than the tides. and it's not like i asked for this obscence special un-power, this (until recently) pointless and debasing non-ability of interaction. it's simply how the chemistry and physics of me work out, the most natural thing in the world, in some ways. in fact, i despised this lonely circumstance, this solitude until a realization came upon me, that everything has its opposite, its counterpart that is exactly different, yet inextricably linked through a shared pairing in the universe. if there can be such a thing as celebrity, a person of features so familiar that they appear instantly known and knowable, then there must exist the other, the unknowable, unrecognizable, the un. in fact, it cannot be any other way.

the formal absence of precious things

visual inspiration struck during the frantic drive to practice, late, in the form of a strange, ultramarine blue; boiling and angry. me and the sky, that is. i was driving practically suicidally, angry and having an out of body experience. the thought continually grinding in my head that conversations were had about me the night before, and i wasn't invited. or told what they were about, only that it happened. i'm not proud that that enrages me to stratospheric levels of unhappiness. i probably deserve what i'm getting anyway.

and practice is a chore; the songs i don't like and my jazz is still unavailable to me; in the firm grasp of another. but now i'm whining. it could always be worse... and i promise i'll never leave you behind again, baby. after practice, a hesitant voyage to pick up the author of a children's book and some-time skinny dipping intraveinous intervene-ist. go directly to hub, in order to well-wish a newly minted argintinian. and oh look, now the visual inspiration capturing device is nowhere to be found. fuck. gone. then, of all the outcomes available in a universe of infinte possibilities, we find the newest replacement, one foci of my new ellipse of unhappiness, seated at a table of people i'm thinly acquanted with. all of which, through bad memories. circles turnig inside of circles to bring our paths continually across one another... i won't be saying hello. there is a notable absence, however. my mind betrays me and wonders why she's not here. i guess you take what you can. at this point, aforementioned book author proceeds to ask me if i know this really cool girl he met the night before (while out with one of the original talkers previously mentioned at the beginning,) this girl who chatted and drew him an awesome picture on a coaster. she was really talented, and smart, and cute. i think her name was...? i told him that i, in fact, did know her; but only in the sense that she had just dumped me. hmm, when are you leaving, again, exactly? and that ties it all together, folks, for the crappiest evening of the week so far.

a tale under two cities where

lying in bed last night i had an epiphany; i briefly glimpsed the vast inner mechanisms, dirty cogs and worn sprockets that infinitely mesh together in unfathomable rhythmic timing to create all the patterns and predicaments i interpret as life. the links and connections that the waking mind senses subconsciously, but are only ever hinted at cryptically through poetry and art, all became illuminated with the light of, well, if not exactly the sun, at least a flickering flourescent. and a door opened, a true knowledge and understanding of myself, my motivations; needs. and in that moment, i was aware of such beauty! and that this was fundamental; visceral and more true than anything i had ever known. and in an unknowable peace, i slept. today i can't remember any of it. but i do know that i didn't steal your goddamned underwear.

there are to be concerts tonight, two of relevance anyway. one is of a certain band that i'm loosely affiliated with. and it promises to be unpredictable. in another city, a place i've never been, with people i don't know, and expected to be tomorrow; hence there was no practice. therefore, i embrace the random. because it's all there is. and in another town, this town in particular, at the other: a wonderful woman who has recently suffered a terrible unmentionable theft, will sing with her voice like the clouds. i know, of course, of all this, but other parties may be unaware of the circumstances. and i suspect that one of us may anticipate, ultimately with releif at a no show, while the other will hope with only his disapointment to show for it.

"it's a beard, spliced with cheese and a piece of chalk"; or "how i spent my summer vacation"

how crazy is it to have a beard, when you live in the tropics? i mean, it's probably not the smartest thing to do, huh? don't get me wrong, i've gone fuzzy and have practically developed a razor allergy, but i have noticed that this has seemed like the hottest summer ever. probably not a coincidence. although, the a/c in my being broke may be contributing, as well. and why is a beard so appealing anyway? "oh man! i got it!! i think i want to look more like a bear." what the hell is that? i know that for me, the half-formed concept for the original growth was some kind of "transformation," like some kind of man-boy caterpillar becoming a more beatific and refined adult version of himself. a break from the past. there was also a conscious desire to erect a barrier between my raw, symbolically exposed face and the outside world (the same world that was seemingly intent on trying to kill me, at least at the time.) and you know what? this crazy scraggle appears to actually be working for those purposes. and now that i've started to believe in myself a bit more, become at least more comfortable in my own (furrier) skin, the beard and i have become inseparable, indistinguishable. plus, the chicks dig it. no, really. yeah, i don't get that either, but i'm not going to ask to many questions. so i guess i'll just have to invest in some more deodorant sticks and thinner, 'summerier' clothes, because apparently a beard is man's best friend.

martial arts and no love lost

last night i said "monkey fuss." i also said "don't leave until i get back," but that apparently sounded more like "i'm going to the bathroom." and that was almost all. then our first telephonic drama with a chaser of reckless endangerment. closely followed by passive aggression over sleeping arrangements and an uncomfortable hug. i don't understand why this isn't working, i mean all the ingredients are there. this morning i was told to try not to crush any expectations today. i don't have any idea what that means. also, perhaps more importantly, there was a somewhat agitated man standing in the middle of howard and cypress. he threw things at cars, screaming. his every tendon and sinew straining against the confines of skin, seeking blessed freedom. all the cars, including mine, just swung a little bit out of the way to avoid his punches and karate chops. oh, yes- there were a lot of karate chops. i have video. at first, i thought it was funny. but the tortured face is haunting me and i feel like a monster. maybe that's what it meant.

from out of nose

i talk from out of nose, you say i keep the strange accent. what has we do for the halloween? whenever i get a hunger pains, i like to eating. i listen to sound with music for unhappy. welcome to my farm!! sleeping for all day then i get away. with rhyming! i know the spelling. when i am seeing her, my pants are fitting tighter. but has a time with emails that is better than the voices.

how the guest was won

so this is for me to remember, cause my short term memory is super-crap. i will be vague, improper pronouns will flow! and hopefully no one who reads it ( if any...) will know what the hell i'm talking about. also, there will probably be adult themes, brief nudity, and strong language...

-ok, first- she's leaving very soon. any minute practically. i don't want that, but even more, i want to leave too. i don't even care where anymore. she has fully ignited a need for change that has been smoldering, but that i have no idea how to implement.
-we ate fried chicken, of all things! at the beach, of all places. i have a weird, irregular sunburn due to sweating, swimming, laying and general lack of skill in lotion application. but it is already starting to fade into a weird, irregular tan- just like my memories do!
-i accidentally puored vodka into my wine, creating an uber-drink that was alternately called: turbo boost, a "mr. myers", and finally, wonka. it is crazy stuff...
-she told me not to be too nice. i told her i had to be me, but we could meet halfway on that one. i'm totally too nice for her.
-she wanted to sleep with me sunday, and i told her i wasn't real sure about that (i'm stupid.)
-saturday she told me "i don't think you're stupid, but if you keep saying it, i'll change my mind." i guess i say that a lot.
-one of the first things she said to me was "i thought about you while i mastubated the other day. i came really hard." how are you supposed to take that?

origin of the species

there was a kid i used to hang out with named bruce page. he was what you might call a "character." he was the kind of guy that would drive his broke down ass 20 year old car in the fast lane of the highway, even though it only went 42 mph, tops- not be a jerk, mind you, but because he "liked it over there better." so whatever, he used to make up words and have all these catch phrases: winona has cakes, hang a loaf... i don't know, maybe you had to be there. the one i always remember was that he used to say "patience, young wookiehopper." so that's where that came from, i totally stole it. fuck you, bruce!! just kidding.

the sadness begins...

look, up in the sky... it's super blog. whoopitty doo.