Sunday, December 31

I don't understand this country.
How can someone be the victim of years of neglect and skepticism,
his ailments trivialized, spat upon,
and then when the police come there is no questioning
just an arrest made on the basis of being male?
No pictures, no questions, no attorney, no call.
Stupid small town hick police.
Roughed up for fun on the roundabout "way" to the station.
But I am oblivious to physical pain.
I want to know how someone can undergo psychological torture
year upon endless year and yet those attacks
upon a certified unhealthy person go unpunished?

How can two people be such heartlessly ignorant, selfish to the last?
Any flood would have taken them for sure.
How can I be blamed, feared, whatever,
when I never started anything, when all I ever wanted
was justice, the kind I was promised so many times
and never given, the kind they held like a carrot in front of my nose
until I walked off a cliff, deranged, victim of their ugly games.
Any sane man would lose his patience and his saintliness.
Either they are cruel or so ignorant it defies imagination.
These are the kind of people you explain something to
in simple language one hundred times, and nothing in them changes.
They just don't understand. They are etched into a printed circuit board.
All I've wanted is some kind of moderately happy ending
to the whole thing, not to be completely robbed of my dignity
or deprived of my rights. All I've ever given was love
and when that was rebuffed cruelly, I lashed out in hurt, finally.
These are two very bad people, without consciences.
I wish the hand of God had seen fit not to make them,
but then again, there is no God. They were genetic abnormalities
designed to harass and test my Darwinian fitness, and I failed,
Or at least just finally gave up; I can't take it anymore.
Life living with beasts like these isn't life at all.
I just want my things and my cat and want out. I tried.
All of my logic and kindness never made a dent on their skulls,
nor moved the brain matter within. It only caused them
to be randomly enraged and stick together even tighter
like monkeys growing irate and clinging to their parent/children,
rattling the bushes and howling and biting with plenty of passion
but not one bit of sense or understanding as to why they do what they do.
Mothering instincts, indefensible when I posed no threat, unforgiveable
when I only wanted a fair share and to be treated humanly again.
I hate dealing with robots. The outcome of every interaction is predetermined.
And women will always win, no matter how it plays out,
in the hearts and minds of people we once loved together, they are gone,
they have left me forever and sentenced me with their averted eyes.
And she will never repent for the wrong that she has done tonight.
And every night, what she thought was best was misguided
but she never let me tell her what I needed from her to make it better.
I have tried to find patience through all this, against two people,
and I have been the victim of their viciousness and soullessness so many times
it defies belief, but I will be once again be censured, which is a cruel joke.
I just want them to go away forever, I don't love them anymore, I'm sorry I ever did.
No, I'm not sorry. I just misplaced my trust in the wrong people.
It's obviously they never really loved me. Loving someone means you love them
when it's inconvenient. It's obvious there's a shrine they've built up to the glory
of each other, to female survival, to defend blood even in the face of unreason,
to act like savages. Or it's a simple case of nonsentient obedience to their genes,
which is about as robotic as you can get. Vacuous, stupid, hard to even label "life."
Forget higher philosophy here, judge, I am bitten black and they have the bruises of
fair-skinned people who bruise hitting others or who self-inflict, or who act without
minds behind their eyes, and law will continue to operate in the stone age ad infinitum
while the philosophers mumble volumes and accomplish nothing.

Thursday, December 28

a plea to those who will listen

Being irrationally afraid of

Or prejudiced against those with
Emotional disorders
Or other inherited mental conditions
Is just as bad as hating them
For the color of their skin,
Their gender or nationality,
Or anything else they cannot control.

Be kind to people, especially if
Their lives are hard;
Especially if they didn't roll the
Right combination of dice at birth
To come up statististically average.
Judge people by their actions,
Tempered by an understanding of
Their strenghts and limitations.

Don't fall victim to groupthink,
Mob mentality,
Willful ignorance,
Or any of the other ugly attitudes
That marr this beautiful planet
Like black scars dug into
Its marbled surface.
I've got the best family doctor and the best psychiatrist in the world. I can't imagine either of them being better people, more caring, or more competent. My family doctor is a genuinely sweet man and obviously truly cares about his patients. He's extremely honest with me and doesn't talk down to me when it comes to explanations of medical conditions. He's never turned me away when I needed to see him in an emergency or fail to listen closely when I was talking to him. He's one of the people I trust most in the world.

My psychiatrist is just the same. He is the model of a stand-up guy, humble and not artificial in any way, and even while furiously taking notes, always stays right with me in the conversation and is quick to point out my good traits or actions even as I am mourning some flaw in myself. And it's not some cheap tactic either; in his eyes I can see he really means it. He's complimented my reasoning ability and ability to understand complex situations, and he tells me so. Unlike so many intelligent but insecure or egotistical people, he puts his considerable wealth of knowledge and advice on hold and lets me talk. Only when the time is right will he offer some wisdom, and it's always something that shows he has a true understanding of my concerns.

To Drs. Carroll and Goodman, thank you. I literally don't know how I could go on without the two of you to help me through this tumultuous life.

Monday, December 25

Scratches in a notebook.

Life could be good. It could be wonderful - literally, full of wonder. Endless expanses of new territories that recede into infinity but thrill all along the way, a heaven of the mind and body without the bugaboo of boredom. A kind of endless regression into the small and out to the large, into the mind and out to other worlds.

Or it could be a hell with no escape. Time could be an illusion and science may discover everything important and it turns out that all there is, all of reality, is just some kind of unsatisfyingly boring, lame mathematical contraption with its tiresome beauties and singularities, but no further frontiers to explore and conquer. It's left to the accountants to tidy up all the middling details.

Who or what determines reality? I can make myself feel really good sometimes, make things go just my way, have a great morning or evening and realize it may not be impossible to sustain this attitude forever, with discipline and a new attitude toward everything. All the self-help books, the cores of all religions, the competent shrinks, they all say the same thing: Happiness is in the Now, and you only have to let go and process one tiny moment at a time, and you will swell with grace and satisfaction and be relived from the burden of a higher mind that creates the illusion of dissatisfaction and suffering.

But some people remain shackled their entire lives in misery. It's a comfort to them, actually; a routine they've adopted to evade the chaotic hells that throb all around them, waiting to smash their pretend confidence to pieces, reduce them to a sniveling infant curled into a ball. They fear rolling down a hill that never ends. And as they hide the shadows grow longer and more empty, and the thing which waits for them outside the closet door gets ever more ghastly.

But I repeat: Who determines which people find the golden path, delight in the easy sunshine that is there for the taking, and which opt for the chalk cliffs of Beachy Head or the Golden Gate Bridge? Which fall somewhere in between, perhaps not even aware of the existence of either extreme? What being made us, and if everything evolved from simple beginnings and there truly is no God, no Answer, then what sense does any of it make and why does it exist and express itself?

Maybe it is like an infant child, born fussy and curious, chaotic and beautiful. Then it develops complexity, fooling the laws of thermodynamics with a trump card: natural selection. As it ages, it becomes further and further refined, like a crystal or a fern. It never reaches an end to its complexity, and never diminishes in its ingenuity to envision and make real new horizons. Or, just maybe, it hits a wall, and remains alone, a baby lost in the woods, crying, insane. Maybe life ends here and then there is nothing.

I have a general idea of what leads to my physiological "upness" or "downness" on a day to day basis. I take my meds, get a little exercise, think positively about myself and the day unfolding, and I can be pretty sure I will not meet Satan that day, or if he tries to drip his honey in my ear, I will laugh and expediently dismiss him as the phantom he is, replacing his seductive laziness with positive affirmations and recommitment to strength of character.

Or if I don't take my meds, or I take too much of something I shouldn't, or drink too much, and I lunge for a moment with God, to try to experience a ribbon slice of his ecstatic and eternal continuity, to taste just for an instant what that must be like, I always fail. I fail because I was fooled into thinking our tiny minds could grasp the magnitude and character of that magisterium when it has surely evolved for other reasons. I fail because I expect an outside agent to deliver to me that which I have not earned through hard work - through reciprocation.

Is reality something that's there all the time, and our minds just dance around it, perceiving it in different bands of its spectrum and calling our experiences moods, disorders, or revelations, or do we create reality with our neural nets and face a creation that is barbaric or angelic, depending on our temperaments? Are we "brains in vats" in some way, writing out our own story as we go along, truly possessing Free Will but not bodily reality (whatever that may mean)?

I don't know the answers to any of these questions but I find the asymmetry of creatures of all ilk to prefer order, predictability, and security over random change and overly-gambling moods compelling. This is somewhat like all life on earth being "left-handed," as it were, on the molecular level (it is). In the end, it just is that way so far as we can tell with all our reason, and this seems good enough to me. After all, if perfection in the form of absolute symmetry and regression at all scales were the true character of the universe, then nothing would ever move. No chemical reactions take place. No blogs updated. To a perfectionist it is hard to "go left instead of right" without having a reason, or balancing it out in some other way, but I would rather fight on and carve out this existence than give in to an impulse which makes my heart cold to even contemplate.

I cannot justify this logically. But I can feel something within me wanting to survive. It's just my genes, to be sure, but in the end we always face that question of questions: Why something rather than nothing? Nature chose (or didn't have the option not to choose) to manifest itself; who am I to disobey its mandates: multiply, complexify, adapt, and repeat. Until.... who knows.

Maybe we are building a God instead of him having made us. Maybe we've gotten it wrong all these years. But I will try to create some beauty in the world as long as I can keep my biology working properly. If that fails me and life becomes too much of a burden, I'll calmly descend the elevator, hand over my keys at the desk, and check out. But for now, things seem ok. Happy Christmas to those who celebrate. Peace be to everyone.


Thursday, December 21

I sneaked into the movie theater today and caught a double feature: Rocky Balboa and The Holiday. I'd heard good things about Rocky, and it has a high tomato score, while I thought The Holiday might be just a little too full of coincidences and clichés, and its tomato rating was subpar. But still, it had a great cast, and more importantly it started like 5 minutes after Rocky ended - perfect for movie hopping!

I won't go into a detailed analysis of each movie, just that my expectations were the reverse of my experiences. Rocky was fine, certainly not embarrassing, and it left you with a good feeling, more holistic and less ecstatic than the highs most sports movies try to achieve. Stallone's character is humble and seems to be finding wisdom with age, and there are a lot of quips from him that sound natural and not written in "by force" to make us laugh, which is why we do. He's one of us. The problem is the supporting cast, which does nothing to help him out. And the final fight scene, which I was looking forward to being something special, turned out to be rushed and anticlimactic - maybe even deliberately so, as an artistic statement. So, like I said, a decent good-values movie, even a good character study of the aging protagonist, just not an exciting boxing flick.

The Holiday on the other hand surprised me a bit at each turn. I won't say it's without its rom-com clichés, but the characters are all so good looking, well-dressed, and charming that it's still fun to watch them work. It avoids the big crisis or misunderstanding in the middle that gets resolved at the end before everyone lives happily ever after. Instead there are minor misunderstandings or difficulties that must be overcome along the way, and it all goes pretty smoothly. The dialogue is above average, and there's fairly good chemistry between the couples - one a bit more than the other. I like Jack Black a lot but his character wasn't developed nearly enough, leaving his quirkiness a bit of a non sequitur. I know the writers were probably trying to avoid having a cast of four beautifully bland model-types by going in a different direction with Black's character, but it just didn't work very well for me. Still, it's a solid and up-to-date romantic comedy that resists overutilizing today's memes/zeitgeist and left me smiling and noticing the all the cute woman in my midst just a bit more. *Sigh*

Monday, December 18

An amateur's version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." A Capella!

Sunday, December 17

Just saw Charlotte's Web, and I think I must've bawled through about half the movie. I knew going in this might happen, since I bawled through almost the entire book when I was little. These stories always get to me - selfless sacrifice, not for renown or glory, for maybe such deeds will never even become known, but simply because it is the right thing to do, to help someone out and in the process ignore your own self-concern.

We have such few examples of truly selfless people in this world that when I hear of their deeds, I get choked up. I would like to do good to the end of my days. Real good, not to be noticed or thanked for it, not so I can feel like I'm a good person in some sort of therapeutic cleansing. Not in a way which would benefit me at all. Just do good and help people the best I can, anonymously if it works out that way. I want to be a humble, pleasant person for the rest of my life.

I haven't always been humble, but I want to be now. I've been pleasant to most people, and some damaging people in the world have worked their way in close to me and abused my vulnerabilities. But I want to remain pleasant and not give into the evil cynicism that infects so many. The "real world" or "the streets" or "the game." I come down with dreadful bouts of accepting yet despising seeing the world on this level, but always at some point find a way back to being loving, taking nothing for granted, being humble. At these moments, I feel like a kid. The world seems to offer endless wonder rather than endless fear.

I want to stay by this warm fire of childlike wonderment, and if I have to read children's books and watch children's movies to remind me from time to time what true virtue is, then I will do so. The cynical, materialistic, cannibalistic values of mainstream society are not for me. Thank you, Charlotte, for your kindness and your sacrifice. You are a model for us all. Good night and peace be with everyone.

Thursday, December 14

Real Love. (for Nicola)

I know this world
A world curled about a flagpole
We're asked to die for what someone says is right
Without feelings

But my feelings for you
Well, all I ever wanted
Since I was old enough to know the difference
Was real love

Maybe it's the coy way you tease me
Or in my despair the way you please me
Just by being there
Just by smiling

Openness doesn't come easy to you
You've kept things in your whole life
Content to observe
Fascinated by others

Maybe it's this mirror-shyness
I find so irresistable
You stood out like a candle in the dark
The first time I ever talked to you

And my feelings for you now
Well, some things never change
I look back upon our exchanges
And I feel you near me

Real love
The kind can't money can't buy
That sheer talent cannot guarantee
Is still there for you and me.
Upcoming blog featurettes!

I'm working on a few different exciting projects that are sure to please my non-audience, which I intend to post on this blog. One is Animal Wars, a huge NCAA tournament-style battle between the toughest animals on earth to see which mighty warrior of the natural word emerges as the one not to be messed with. Man is excluded from competing naturally. The other is a brief rating/mini-review of all the movies I have seen in 2006, whether they were released that year or I just waited till then to see them. I've kept decent notes in my journal about most movies I've seen, so I'm not just talking out of my ears here. And third is a dramatic play in three parts about the birth of the Lord, his subsequent flight from Bethlehem, and the eventual fulfillment of his destiny as the Messiah. Hehe, just kidding about that last one.

So look forward to animals wars, movie reviews, and maybe some other surprises coming up very shortly, as well as excellent art and tolerable poetry as per usual. Viva la addo lux lucis!

Tuesday, December 12

It is my fate to wander beneath the stars
Homeless and homesick
For as long as the light of day burns
And the industrious hone their crafts
Diligent, tireless
And ceaseless is the world of man
In its turning
I will cast no shadow
Turn yellow eyes into the moon
And sing my songs of lament
For a life that cannot be mine.
The Acrobat (photo by dave hixson)
Olmec head (unknown photographer)
"Message from the Thunderbird" (j.d. challenger)
10 December 2006
  • I became anxious, moved into a full-blown out of body panic attack which klonopin didn't help, and became unusually suicidal more than just scared.
  • I felt I was having a psychotic breakdown; I don't know exactly what is meant by psychosis, but my hold on reality became quite tenuous.
  • I felt death by my own hand was imminent, and I welcomed it. I didn't want to call for help, just to say goodbye to a few people.
  • I suddenly became tremendously sad for so many things in my past and cried uncontrollably for a time.
  • Realizing I might actually carry through with a suicide plan this time, I regained some cogency and made a few notes for people to find.
  • These notes described what I would like done with my writings, computer files, and the rest, and how people should be notified.
  • As of this moment (Dec 10th) I am still in the throes of this madness, and I don't know whether I will ever emerge. I suspect I will.
  • I don't want to be hospitalized. I want to make it on my own because either I have it within me to do so, or I want to move on to the next world.
  • I feel alone when I am isolated, but no more than when I am surrounded by crowds. Only in the company of a lover or good friend do I feel some thawing of the mind.
  • I feel separated from my body and its actions. I feel like I am watching a movie of my life.

Monday, December 11

"Breaking Glass"

baby, I've been

breaking glass in your room again

oh but don't look on your carpet
I drew something awful on it

you're such a wonderful person
but you got problems
I'll never touch you.
If you don't like what I post here then don't read it. I'm not trying to offend anyone or garner sympathy, this is just my journal. Lots of people have deep dark things in their journals. Mine just has the stones to be up on the web. And I usually write when I'm down, so it's going to be biased that way too. I'm not always an empty, morose person. But when I am, I blog about it.
"Death is an Angel" by Saya
Publish my book; it's almost done.
Archive my things, the ones that matter.
Be my Christopher Tolkien.
Do what you will with material items.
Someone get my voice files to Nic, Debbie, and Jessica.
Please find Nicola. Tell her I really did love her.
Call her dad or her mom. Numbers on my cell phone.
Don't be afraid people! I'm not afraid, not anymore.
It's a vast sea but there's a friendly shore
I've seen in my dream, maybe even before.

If I could go back to the beginning by ending this time, this age
And picking up where a new one left off, and is starting
Where the golden sun awoke again from the turmoil of the ageless
Pall-black ocean and made the world special
I would

But six years may be too long to wait
And a hundred thousand people in my town alone mill about like ants
Except not as cohesive or functional; they spend time fighting each other
And in their inefficiency leave so much to be desired, but ants do not
Desire, and they are inefficient by themselves as well

Maybe I am too unkind
Maybe everything unwinds like a stone clock carved into granite walls
And Olmec heads do not depict separate ethnic races
And there is no master civilization
And maybe all my words are words of madness and desperation

Except for one thing:
To me they are truth
And I can only live my life and make choices
Based on my perception of the truth.
If I could draw this would be by me.
(original artist unknown)
All My Love.

All the love I have to give would not be enough
To heal you completely but I give it anyway
I want nothing in return except to see you smile
Without that dark edge of weariness
Carved around your golden brown eyes
It takes everything I have to let you go right now
So that you can survive

All the rain that has fallen has not extinguished your flame
If you believe in yourself, then it never can
I'm only a wanderer who's gone lost in the woods
Circling around on his own muddy tracks
You found me and took me into your heart and led me back
To civilization again
And you claim to have thin skin
But all the brutality of this world hasn't made you crack

If I had happiness in my heart to share,
I would give it all to you
But I think the creation of happiness takes two

And all my love, such as it is,
Is yours as long as you can bear; I will be here
To hold you in my arms when you leave your cocoon.

Saturday, December 9

Inside me I feel
Alone and unreal

-Syd Barrett

Friday, December 8


The rain is a piano stuck on one note
The look on your face in candlelight
Is precious
I'd climb ladders to repair leaks
Stuff rags against sills to keep out the
Natural chaos of night
Just to see you in that soft light
Your face round like perfection
A toothy smile to make you human again
And a look in your eyes that no place
Or time could seem to place
It's almost as though you were dislocated
From the very fabric of temporal space
The rain falls like drums and now, perhaps
It is hailing. Just as well - we're soaked
From our efforts to keep ourselves dry
We collapse in a pile laughing, splashing
And your blond hair sweeps my face for
Yet another time. What's the story now?
Is this just another dream?
I feel the walls wavering and fading...
No matter how hard I work or pray
You remain forever out of reach
Our evenings of love and laughter always in my mind
Subject to the prodding jabs of friends and shrinks
And I just want to cry right now
With the fury of a thousand such storms
To give me a real day, some way forward
An avenue to my beloved, precocious girl
Who laments to me that she knows so little
But in a short span showed me the world.
One more from Tupac. Only a few cusswords too!

"Only God Can Judge Me."

Perhaps I was blind to the facts, stabbed in the back
Couldn't trust my own homies cause they're a bunch of dirty rats
Will I succeed? paranoid from the weed
And hocus pocus try to focus but I can't see
And in my mind I'm a blind man doing time
Look to my future cause my past is all behind me
Is it a crime, to fight for what is mine?
Everybody's dying tell me what's the use of trying?
I've been trapped since birth, cautious cause I'm cursed
And fantasies of my family in a hearse
And they say it's the white man I should fear
But it's my own kind doing all the killing here
I can't lie, ain't no love for the other side
Jealousy inside, will make em wish I'd died
Oh my Lord, tell me what I'm living for
Everybody's droppin got me knockin on heaven's door
And all my memories, of seein brothers bleed
And everybody grieves, but still nobody sees
Recollect your thoughts don't get caught up in the mix
Cause the media is full of dirty tricks
Only God can judge me.

I hear the doctor standing over me screamin I can make it
Got a body full of bullet holes layin here naked
Still I can't see, something's evil in my IV
Cause everytime I breathe, I think it's killin me
I'm having nightmares, homicidal fantasies
I wake up stranglin', tangled in my bedsheets
I call the nurse cause it hurts to reminisce
How did it come to this? I wish they didn't miss...
Somebody help me, tell me where to go from here
Cause even thugs cry, but do the Lord care?
Tryin to remember, but it hurts
I'm walkin through the cemetery talkin to the dirt
I'd rather die like a man than live like a coward
There's a ghetto up in Heaven and it's ours, "Black Power!"
Is what we scream as we dream in a paranoid state
And our fate is a lifetime of hate
Dear Mama, can you save me? And fuck "peace"
'Cause the streets got our babies, we gotta eat
No more hesitation each and every black male's trapped
And they wonder why we suicidal runnin round strapped
Mista Police, please try to see that there's
A million motherfuckers stressing just like me
Only God can judge me.
More obvious observations that seem easy to follow when you're not actually depressed.

Sometimes depression is just a matter of not having enough energy. With ample energy stores, the human mind and body become intolerant of complacency and push the individual to engage in some activity, even if a full philosophical justification has not been submitted and approved. Since action leads to more action, some kind of jump start like caffeine or a stimulant drug can get the ball rolling and sideline the depression temporarily. But to sustain such momentum is another story. It's no wonder there are so many coffee and meth addicts; people want to feel "up".

But for me, the crash that comes afterward, or the ever-deteriorating state of wellbeing and sanity that accompanies constant stimulation is not worth the positive benefits. Exercise is probably the one true "high" which doesn't make you feel bad afterward. I would imagine long, intense meditation might be another. These are the less easy ways to obtaining energy and momentum, but truer and more sustainable. Exercise and meditation. The cure to everything, seemingly.

I see the world like hans holbein,
hp lovecraft, vilhelm hammershoi,
edgar allen poe, ian curtis, edvard munch.

I see the world the way another human being
might see an alien society
in the distant mirror of some terrible dream.

It paralyzes me from buying in
or making choices which require data
from a tap that has run dry.

I'm at the end of my mind
now I have to try to escape inside.
The sky was nearly black today at noon.
(painting by hans holbein)

Sunday, December 3

Saturday, December 2


I have my drugs
They make me smug
Take them away
I decay.

My natural mind
Is unkind
But with additives
I want to live.

The serotonin

Make the whole thing work
Reality seems a perk
Not the endless drain
Made by my natural brain.
This means all. It's Christmas time, why don't people see or reflect? Why are we slaves to our biology? Why then intellect?

We do we create and proliferate and use and discard? We will soon replace ourselves with genetically perfect biomachines. How is that a help to us and where is this all going?

Use your brain. Stop advancing technology. Stop wiping out ecosystems. Stop living simply for your own short-term pleasure. Stop trying to "get ahead". Ahead of what? Where you are right now is most probably just fine.

And the people say
Mutterings at which I only grasp, red iPod strapped
To my arm, and songs in the palms of my hands
They seem like Nazis so sure of themselves
Why are people so sure of themselves?
They certainly have no more knowledge than I do
And yet they laugh and jump in the pool
Are they the children of God or just his mindless tools?

I am not afraid to die
I have been forged from something stronger than steel
My life has taken twists and turns, sometimes unreal
My last meal was a dozen beers and eight hours of meditation
I stay religiously on my medication, but
Does this make me a good citizen or a cretin?
I think I've proved the purposelessness of motion and still
The people play and smile

I don't know why I get in evil or foul moods
I wish I or someone somewhere understood
My heart feels it is an engine for good
And repels all invaders, hideous in form
With mechanical intentions inside their heads
When I look at other people, I wish they were dead
Or that I could be mercifully extinguished
My fickle outer form shed

I don't know why it's love or hate with me
Black or white and no shades of grey with me
I'm certainly not a bad person in my own mind
But I am persecuted relentlessly by demons I cannot find
Nor exorcise
I hope my molecules disperse to regions separated my miles
Maybe our star will explode and some bit become divine

I have a mental illness that is hard to bear
People tell me to get off the fence but they don't know
How hard it is to commit to something, to care
When your mind and your corporeal body lean elsewhere
When all you've ever been bred for was implosion or god
How disappointing in the end to find just another vagrant
With the intelligence of ancients and the presence of a slob

If I could do it all over again I would avoid
As many people as I could, to keep them from pain
When I ran away and left all my promises wanting
I would hug the nearest saguaro cactus to drive me insane
And be removed from people otherwise tamed
And if women came along who tried to coddle and explain
I would erupt in a shower of needles and bathe their brains

In the blood of the Antichrist
And no part of me remain;
I'm sorry I can't be who you think I am.

Friday, December 1

The Middle Way.

I sold my soul to some guy named Faust
Who turned around and pawned it off on the Devil
I just laughed when I heard, I know too well
Who got the better of that deal

They say I'm an agnostic
But I don't know what that means
I thought those were primitive jawless fishes
That roamed the early seas

I don't really care about things I can't
See, touch, smell, hear, or taste
And chuck out smell, that sense is a waste
I'm heading to my grave one way or another, face it

And I can pick up a cause and fight with my brothers
Or be a lost cause and die in the gutter
Or I can find the middle way, in plain sight the whole time
Sometimes the easiest answer is actually right.
10 Tips to fighting.

0. Know you're going to win. Visualize how you'll secure the momentum and maintain it.
1. Stay serene. Don't fight angry. Anger makes you sloppy.
2. Stay alert. Don't let your mind get ahead of or behind the moment. There is only NOW.
3. Punch with purpose, step into it, and follow through. Don't let up, but don't get predictable either.
4. Head shots are effective, but don't forget to work the body too. Avoid the crotch absolutely.
5. If your opponent kicks, you may use kicks as well. Use them like punches, against the head and body.
6. Don't ever bite, use your nails, or other such barbarous tactics, unless actually fighting for your life.
7. Don't fight dirty. If your opponent falls down, let him stand up. If he yields, respect his dignity.
8. Don't run your mouth taunting. It makes you look insecure. Let your fists do the talking.
9. Don't hold a grudge afterward, win or lose. Analyze the fight and learn from what happened.

Thursday, November 30

I've heard what you've been saying about me
To all who will listen
To poison the well, perhaps, maintain control
To keep me in my mental prison

People like you can never understand
Or take it when others see further and faster
People like you can only demand
A safe label like freak or disaster

You could have worked with me
But all along, you've worked against me
I suppose you wanted the guilt-free exit
Even if it meant my execution

If I respected you once
You have changed or I was deluded
So here I am alone and resentful
Utterly secluded

You offer condolences but do not change
You left your vows at the altar
Whether stated in word, or written in blood
Or made in the mind of the lover

And what will you think after a lifetime
Of believing you are always right
And never seeking help for problems
As ugly as mine or worse in the light?

And what will you do
When this whole thing is over
And I left you a suggestion, and a plea
But your certainty couldn't be bothered

You have a hand in this,
You had a role to play
You played the twist in this carnal play
Yet you have nothing to say

When the carnival is gone
And the players have had their day
To bask in the sun
You slink away

And what will people think
When they know the truth
And extricate the lies
From the crimes of your youth

And find a diamond, cold and black
Someone left abandoned
Who never ever gave back
To this world she so hated

For a robot duty
To a child who you raised to be
As paranoid as you are, dear
What will the people think?

For I tried to spark her wit
With tales of fancy and humor
While you were paying bills or buried
In your workstuffs like a tumor

That's all I really want to know
When all is said and done
How you can look me in the eye
When your humanity is gone

You've done something irreparable
To my life plowed fresh with laughter
I only wanted understanding
Not prescriptions after

Nor advice from your small mind
I hoped would open wildly
A mind to delve into my charms
And not to disembowel me

I ask you now, for without doubt
I handled many things poorly
But can you now countenance your own acts
And not regret your life sorely?

And if you can't, there is no heart
That beats in you for goodness
You fool yourself that you work on progress
And I am lying broken and bloodless

I remember upon a time
You promised me your love forever
No one made you feel as I did
I honestly thought we were Lovers

But as my illness grew and you
Supported me as you could
You also silently pulled away
Ensured that it was dead for good

Everything after that was lies
The person I knew was gone
You had your house and your precious child
And I was alone

Shuffled from hospital to treatment plan
Where peers thanked God for spouses
Who stuck with them through thick and thin
And never stole their houses

And you did something you said you'd never do
Keep my only child away from me
There's a place in Hell for people like you
You'll see,

I hope you'll see one day.

Morning time, 5 AM

The room is cold and pouring rain
Outside makes random notes again

Life can be fun but there's a limit to it
The rain may stop but the sun has to end
When nighttime comes to put us to bed

I have my hour now to spend
Before the quiet is rent
Before traffic ruins this perfect ascent

I've been praying all night and my body is tired
But my heart and my mind are rewired
And I think I'll go for a walk in the cold.

Tuesday, November 28

Still think rappers can't write lyrics?


(Tupac Shakur)

A place to spend my quiet nights
Time to unwind
So much pressure in this life of mine
I cry at times
I once contemplated suicide
And woulda tried but when I held that nine
All I could see was my mama's eyes
No one knows my struggle
They only see the trouble
Not knowing it's hard to carry on when no one loves you
Picture me inside the misery of poverty
No man alive has ever witnessed struggles I survived
Praying hard for better days, promise to hold on
Me and my dogs ain't have a choice but to roll on
We found a far spot to kick it
Where we could drink liquor and no one dickers over trick shit
A spot where we could smoke in peace
And even though we G's we still visualize places that we can roll in peace
And in my mind's eyes I can see this place that players go in passing
And got a spot for us all so we can ball in thug mansion

Will I survive all the fights and the darkness, troubled spots,
To tell my homies where the heart is when dear departed?
I shed tattoo tears and couldn't sleep good for multiple years
Witnessing peers casting gun shots
Nobody cares
See the politicians ban us
They'd rather see us locked in chains
Please explain why they can't stand us
Is there a way for me to change?
Or am I just a victim of things I did to maintain?
I need a place to rest my head
With the little bit of homeboys that remain
'Cuz all the rest dead
Is there a spot for us to roll? If you find it,
I'll be right behind you
Show me and I'll go
How can I be peaceful?
I'm coming from the bottom
Watching my Daddy scream "peace"
While the other man shot him
I need a house that's full of love
When I need to escape the deadly places slinging drugs
In thug mansion

Dear mother don't cry your baby boy's doing good
Tell the homies I'm in heaven and it ain't got 'hoods
Seen this show with Marvin Gaye last night
It had me shook dripping peppermint schnapps
With Jacky Wilson and Sam Cooke
Then some lady named Billy Holiday sang
Sitting there kicking it with Malcom till the day came
Little Latasha, she's all grown, so tell the lady in the liquor store
That she's forgiven - So come home
Maybe in time you'll understand only God could save us
When my baby's cutting loose with the band
Just think of all the people that you knew in the past
That passed on, lay in heaven, found peace at last
Picture a place that they exist, together
It has to be a place better than this, in heaven
So right before I sleep dear God what I'm asking:
Remember this face, save me a place
In thug mansion.

Sunday, November 26

Ghosts; Girls
Making faces at dogs.

People run around, and it seems funny. But it's not funny. And the gas fumes from the remains of vegetation and once-living creatures drifts into my logic, and all former certainties are up for grabs. I am out of shape but I have stared down death. I completely demolished a man who attacked me yesterday. I've not a scratch nor ache to show for it; he's a mess. It was instinct, bullet time, survival, not caring nor feeling any fear at all. I think he saw it in my eyes, the emptiness. I've given my time, my sincere efforts, and my heart to a girl who feels sorry for herself and forgets to say a simple thanks because she is tired. I had a marriage like that. I left with my left foot on a low cloud.

I am not concerned. Chemicals keep me a robot for now. I still miss Christine Deemer from the 6th grade; I miss Nicola; I miss my wife. I am not sad even though I should be. Don't comment with comforts for me, don't be fake. If it's an insight and not a comfort, be my guest. I was pulled into this world already screaming and shell-shocked. The wide eyed look you saw that seemed so aware? It was fear. I tear into a decaf coffee careful to throw the cup into a proper garbage bin. I have to live outside squalor to live at all. I feel like a fully grown gorilla on a chain. The chain could be a simple thread if I imagined it to be. I could destroy this world around me, the one who has stared at me all my life and made monkey faces at me, so clever and cruel. Me, I look at the faces of children and adults and feel like I'm making faces at dogs. Blank happy grins. Eagerness without understanding.

I love so much and it is so painful that I end up hating everything. But this is not who I am. I am kind, kinder than you, you idiots. I wish I'd simply float away and start the game over again, with fewer bullies and fewer nonsentient people. There is an old record store not far from here where I may go in search of Jacques Brel. There is a pool nearby too. Maybe I can put the two together and bring the past to a close and tuck the future sweetly into bed; maybe I can finish a novel; maybe there is kryptonite and adamantium and positronic brains. Hell, I don't know. But you don't either. Don't give me suggestions. Whatever you have thought I have thought till it made me sick. I must be on my sixth lifetime by now and unaware because I don't know anydifferent. I must be different, made of straw with a huge heart and brain and lashed to a pole suspended above eternity like Tuor in Angband. And you want to see my teeth when I smile.

Friday, November 24

It's just a dream
I convince myself
No teeth in my mouth
Blue blood covers my face
In the mirror
I see the back of my head
I'm falling into the sky
Inside the clouds are hearts
And outer space never comes
The air is red and
It's just a dream
I tell myself
Black tears hit my feet
I have six sets of wings
Six fingers and toes
Seven virtues
None of them clean
It's my American
Now my ceiling caves and bleeds
And my bed is upside down
And inside of me
But still I have the nerve to think
It all must be a dream
Dream the dream of dead men
Just before
The well runs dry forever
You never told me your secret
Now I'll never know.
Drinking of you.

I'm crying in my beer
Tonight isn't a good time to try to talk to me
Just like all those other nights
Spilling tears everywhere
For my lover

They say when the mystery's gone
The woman moves on
I never wanted to believe that about you
And still I wonder where it all went wrong
Why you deserted me

So I'm propped here, drinking of you
While you're no doubt tucked away in dreamland
Why life is like this, I'll never understand
You wanted something real
How much more real could I be?
Meet your meat...

"There's more to life than books, you know - but not much more."

Thursday, November 23

No concentration of brilliant things ever seems as brilliant
As its individual parts do left to their own,
In amogst the pieces that are not so brilliant
Who downplay expectation and build up suspense.

It is this reason no greatest hits of songs ever works
No anthology of timeless poetry impresses
No feast of rich delicacies ever satisfies
And no frantic drug-riddled expectant clawing for happiness succeeds.
Here I am on my own again
Wondering when to fold

Everything seems boring,
Everything seems old

Here I am and I don't want to be
The sun is dying anyway

The universe is crying anyway,
Or I'm blind.

Happy Thanksgiving!


Take me out
Take me now
I'm walking home with both hands full
A canopy of pregnant clouds sprawled out above me
Lit seemingly from within
Night came too soon tonight
I think it's too light
For magic to happen
But the air seems right
And I march on to my apartment singing under my breath
A tune that withers in the still air
No paths to lead me where I'm going
Just the yellow look of death
In car windows reflecting the sky
The stuffed gutters,
Heat bubbling up from worlds beneath the city
And the few who do tumble around these streets laughing
Who'll sleep restfully in their beds
Won't ever awake to see this sight
That I alone take in.

I live on the fringes
Funny but I may be the first to wish to go,
And the last to catch the pandemic they predict
To hit the cities like an atomic bomb
And kill millions who serve each day in some impactful way
By taking your movie tickets, or salting slugs
Or trying to determine if you're the people we hate
At the airport terminals
And I, terminally minded, will be confined
To a place far out of the way, locked in my room
Never eating anything or drinking
But purified water, scared to die unknown
Feuding with a wife and a daughter
And an absent father
I should be "case 0" with all its stigma in tow
But I know,
I will be among the last to go
And I will see people fall before me
Good people, who never asked the Poet's question
And those I never knew, but would have liked
Who had an escape from each situation
Trapped mentally or physically they found a way
To slip their knots and swim away
They will liquefy inside
And collapse in the madness
And be dragged away

There were pasts we could sprawl on a queen bed
Engrossed in a novel
Dream about a future land
Human colonies of survival, but unplanned
This pandemic struck before the governments of the
Sane nations of the world could understand
Because no one plans anything
They just react to what is bad

I want to feel pain
Be deprived of food and water
All bodily needs, feel the lightening of spirit
That perversely accompanies disaster
I want to lose my brain, and let
The questions melt to rainwater forever after
I have seen attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion
But I have never touched or photographed them
I have lived under a sky which growls and then purrs
But never held it in my arms
I have conjured the worst of my enemies
Archdevils, spirits of restless men, animated death
I have written of my travels from dawn to dusk,
Evil to good, green life to death
But I have never been granted that last breath
Accuse me of cowardice
There is no shame, I stand accused
I cling to life with genetic resolve, a pity
Solving absolutely nothing but to search for one
Who could spread my genes
By spreading her jeans
Give birth to another "first one"
I think the Anasazi were correct:
We were here first, but "we" were not who we are today
Their root-headed gods still circle my sky
And inhabit my veins
With the vision leaving my eyes
And I have always been the worst one

At last, perhaps, you are the one
My princess charming, my salvation and my tragic ending
Wrapped into one
The only person I would have renewed myself for spurned me
And never earned me
I just hope that she stays free from the scrum
Escapes to the beautiful Banff rivers
Paws her way like the survivor she is
Up into safe self-sufficient towns
Rides out the tragedy, like an asteroid from space
Takes her place among the new generation
With her mind so relevant, her body so young
I've stopped coming up with reasons for renewal
Or plans for simple survival
They don't work anyway and I just want to see the sun again
Rise over the majestic hills off Sonoma Highway
The most beautiful place in the whole world
Maybe Noah's building his boat again
And my kind are about to be packed off and sent to hell
Pandemics serve to strip the populace
Of weaklings like me with all their eggs in one basket
Benefits the world by killing human beings who think too much
Reduces the burden on the planet ecologically
And snuffs out fantasy where it has started to green.

Wednesday, November 22

(r. smith)

i am slowing down
as the years go by
i am sinking

so i trick myself
like everybody else

the secrets i hide
twist me inside
they make me weaker

so i trick myself
like everybody else

i crouch in fear and wait
i'll never feel again

if only i could remember
anything at all

Saturday, November 18

If I live, I want to live with passion. I want life to be a completely genuine experience, face to the elements. I don't want to be a zombie floating in an air-conditioned electronic bubble. I want to see the earth's roots and shoots.

If I go on, I want to feel like I did when I was 17. When I was her age, and everything stunk of art and strangeness and tingling sensations. I was cocky and dismissive outside then, scared and insecure inside. If I could return, through conditioning, lifestyle changes, not talking about it like I am now but getting out and doing it, I wouldn't take it for granted. I would live with all the heart I was given. How do you go back?

Dirty and cold makes clean and warm so much better. Forget what I said about conditioning, I'm always planning for a future that never arrives. You just have to start doing it. The only way to get in shape for life is to jump in.

If I can.

soft sad days
like a glow outside rain-
spattered glass
among the trees, mystery
never feel this way again
as i get older
my finger on the pulse of the world
getting colder

she listens to the drums of the rain
her world is open
strange, still filled with
holidays and long weekends
friends, bonfires, lazy dreams
along the seams of the grass and the flowers,
she sees
with her strange visionary power.

Saturday, November 11

Dawn is beautiful
Stay up with me
You'll see
Dawn is a renewal
It's beautiful
It wipes yours sins away
Whatever they might be
Stay up with me
Let's see the sun rise
But first,
The light will get brighter
And your heart feel lighter
It's beautiful
Dawn is a renewal
In every sense
Your problems go away
If you look to the light
You can find peace right now
When the time is right
And never look back
It wipes all your fears away
Makes you want the day
Makes you seek to master
Yourself in the quiet,
Expectant air
Life is right here
Not "out there"
Dawn is beautiful
You'll see
Stay up with me
In every sense
In every way, each day
Foggy or clear
Or sheeted with rain
Or backed by the choir of
Some birds' angelic refrain
Or even just plain
Dawn is beautiful.
The Human Back. By Justin Sias.

The human back sucks. It hurts whenever you do anything trivial, like give 3-year-olds horsey rides or move some boxes or furniture around, or think about diamonds. My back has been bad my whole adult life, to the point where I really should seek medical treatment - most likely physical therapy or something equally disappointing not involving strong opiates.

I know we weren't "designed" to walk upright due to our simian ancestry... Isn't that proof enough to these Intelligent Design idiots that we weren't created by some loving God? He designs this brilliantly intricate eye, brain, and so forth, then gives us a spine than hurts if we lift more than a couple doughnuts at one time. Hmm. That's an utterly convincing argument for God.

Anyway, my back hurts, and it hurts to the point where it makes me mad at other people and start to despise inefficient programming code and cellphones that don't get reception in the right places. And dogs. In other words, I'm like a kid eating about seven super-sours all at once and somehow one or two of those atrocious Japanese peas got in there by mistake. Just all around PISSED OFF.

That's the end of my story. I hope you've learned something about the human back. If you have any comments about physical therapy, etc., that's cool. Write them down in case you hurt your back and keep them somewhere safe. Me, I'm gonna go find some candy right now since I brought it up. I wish they made lemonheads with intense opioid centers. That would rule.

The end.
San Francisco Zoo pictures (partial). Zoos are cool.

Life is just an endless string of Nows. If you make good choices each Now, the results down the road will reflect that. That is my downfall. I dream about faroff success, but my choice in each insignificant Now is usually for the short-term gain, which is to my detriment long-term. At worst, I get fatter, dumber, and unhappier. At best I maintain some kind of status quo with my current mind/body. But I want improvement! Well, then I must learn to master Now.

But it's hard when pain is shooting through your back nonstop.

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