oh, i don't like the looks of this.

the thing is, i don't generally remember my dreams. in fact, for years now i've been saying that i don't dream. occasionally, i'll have to backpedal and say that yes, i know i dream i just don't remember them.

in the middle of january, i started writing down my dreams, no matter how small, in a pad i'm keeping next to my bed. i don't want to say that it's become important to me, but i'd like to definitely stick to it.

coming back to a dream that i had even just TWO days ago has been an almost rewarding experience.

before i go to sleep, i can usually hear voices. useless conversations. i'm not saying they're ghosts or anything. just scenarios, in a way.

maybe you're just not in the habit of it anymore!
three straight children. //
my parents aren't still divorced..
- kim-voice

you're gonna BREAK it
- mikey-voice

and they all leave.

During the 1950's the town was deserted and the dunes began to reclaim what was always theirs.

the persians!

it hurts to text message. that's where i'm at right now. my fingertips feel dense. my knees feel rusted. my teeth feel uprooted. my back feels freezedried. what happened here. i feel like i'm going through withdrawal. i can't stand loud noises.

i started writing my dreams down. i don't remember them, and i don't want to read them for a long, long time.

i finally own american football's album.

i feel like i need to be on a stretcher.

big. giant.

i apologize. i'm a bit distracted.

portioned falling. so much collapse,
35mm stillframes,
momentum building.
UGLIEST OF FACES.
hollow skeleton partitioned for the sake of flight. overcoming a solo meeting place. she writes forever, face plastered on hologram posters, shouting "REBELLION."
i will. i will.
i was told i was jaded because i was world weary. what's next? i can't meditate anymore. slothing through death, like i sloth through death. too many lines. oh, she screams and speaks like she's with me on the road about nobody but everybody. "that which is not, IS." aspects of one person that you come to face. one brain, two rules. my body is far too happy as she mumbles so i hear it, "i want to take you somewhere beautiful." a fear of botany. i want to kiss her in front of everybody and just have it be what it is. And this machine needs fuel. SO WE FUEL IT!

dead teeth.

pachefsky gave me a heads up about this anime last night over drinks at friday's. i know he's talked about it a little bit since he's been back on break, but usually, i take nothing he says seriously. there are only a few people whose opinion i can take to heart, and only about certain things. recomendations can only really come when you not only know and like what you're pitching, but also knowing the person you're pitching it to. i would never recommend look, mexico to rahul, for example.

but this time, he's come through in the clutch. i've only seen the first episode, but it's pretty solid so far.

www.deathnote.tv

el arbol.

we both took things from him.
hers are just a bit more worn on the outside.
the alcoholism the blind fury.

i've got little bits of his hidden psychoses.
the ones that are there for minutes at a time when he talks to himself, circling the kitchen. the ones that make him thrash in his sleep. whatever it was inside him that made him say, "the family that kills together, dies together. and they all get into their little black moods."

it'd make me fear him if i didn't go there myself, sometimes.

and i know when She passes, most likely from lung cancer or emphysema, he is going to go into a fierce plummet. there will be darkness and there will be blindness. we're all going to go down.

let's not talk about this again.

american girl.

ALL FOOLS,
we try terrible hard
to make them hear our
voices but we're saying
nothing. we are bored
with ourselves. daring in
LIFE AS WE ARE IN DEATH,
or sleeping still. i'll call
you back tomorrow when
i think of what i meant.
i really don't even
remember that night and i
almost got so sick, but
i went to work instead.
and shit... we have to keep
living this year.
xo

the dead alive!

click.

the remainder.

someone random. insert picture. ummm. dave. there is a damnit [in] the place of the [despicable]. feel me. when u don't know [what's] hitting u its [going] to be [calamity]. muscle memory intermittently. it's silence. no [music] a silence. and [the] ones I love are the ones that make [my] [voice hit]. and the ones that oh my [god].

the sun approaches.

we wouldn't know what to do with each other. and eventually, we'd have nothing to talk about. there's nothing that you want to do that amounts to much more than stories of the other night. and there's nothing that i want to do that amounts to much more than plans i think i'm trying to make. i wish i wasn't addicted to falling in love. at least then, i could take this as far as i knew it would go. but i still stick to the belief that guilt beats hate. you just won't do; you're the kind of person that asks why. we could do this if i got beautiful and dirty. we could do this if i got beautiful and dirty. and it's not really tearing me up.

i didn't know who you were before i met you but i swallowed hard every time i saw you.

i could probably never turn you around.
you just don't have the right kind of eyes.
and i bet you still don't touch pen to paper.
i actually don't even believe in you.

i'd have to be the kind of man that would fight the kind of man that i am.
my canvas jacket would be worn thin everywhere.
i'd wear filthy boots caked with mud.
i'd wear hats.

i should stop being who i am.

the movie for which the above poster was printed for was slow, and long but amazing. the most i can say for anyone with nearly three hours to spend watching turn-of-the-century oil drilling is JUST WATCH DANIEL DAY LEWIS. get the DVD and fast forward if need-be. the man made art of a character.

there are many things that i want to do, in some level of priority listed hereafter.

- watch the game
- respond to that e-mail
- finish reading water for elephants (& on the road & wastelands)
- finish half life 2
- watch the cell (& ghostbusters & bloodsport & fido & pit fighter & shutter)
- watch gangs of new york (& the pursuit of happyness & it's a wonderful life)
- watch constantine on HD (& children of men)
- play more NY TIMES CROSSWORD PUZZLE on DS (& finish new super mario bros.)
- listen to the gaslight anthem's album parker had recommended (& the tegan and sara album kimi recommended)
- start reading junky (& only revelations & romannitarian & dermaphoria)
- get rollins tickets
- get through the series gungrave (& battlestar galactica & the grim adventures of billy and mandy & lost season 2 & foster's home for imaginary children & firefly again & malcolm in the middle)
- be well
- make shirts (or A shirt)
- get new shoes
- get a cable box so i can watch television in HD
- shower
- finish bioshock (& mass effect)
- start condemned (& assassin's creed & fear files & gears of war & dead rising & crackdown & lego star wars)
- write this blog.

you can be me.

what would it be like if jared leto had a tail? the talented, beautiful, versatile lead singer/actor/walking portrait with another extremity. and i'm not talking about an easily manicured tiger striped three foot exotic tail, as we've seen in sci-fi movies used as an additional layer of attraction. i'm talking about a nasty, hard to maintain, impossible to remove freak of nature tail. the kind that looks like a skin tag that wouldn't quit.

what would u do then, ladies?
what would u do.


i'm just trying to even the field.

a memory without remorse.

click.

i'll carry your name with me to the end.

the poor keep their lies moving. fingers sweeping across dusty counter tops wrapping crustily around anything more than miniscule. they cry that heaven's found a way for them. she done got that stone veil propped across her nosebridge. she's calling us in all the way. the children she bore and we misunderstood. we all just misunderstood. don't look at them now because they're hungry and they've been sleeping alone these nights. mouths curled up at the corners because there ain't no safety here. cities cities cities. just more blood oil to burn down. they've been walking to get here, leaving piles of clothes they've shrunk out of. burnt out into last night's home. children born into grown men. disoriented irises that speak in networks of tongues.

the derelicts follow these train tracks from the coal mines to the oil fields: down down down. they live to live some more. they're never going back the way they came. it's only tales of other years. the mothers the fathers stopped calling them home. jazz children and copper kings. here where it's safe to drag your bones down the windblown plains across the reddened clayhordes. the past is the collapse of today and this is why these people are dangerous things. they're cupping raw souls in their raked chests. a heart with eyes wide open. a mile isn't a mile when it's home and you'll never need to mourn if they're laying in your dust trails. "i'll replant this soil, drive harvest home harvest rain. the sky just ain't what she used to be, and this is why to you we supplicate." from the shore to the borderlands, through fog haze mist, it's a chant that goes silent in their throats but resounds in their knuckles.

through me, you'll know them as they know ghosts.

only i can stop this.

... it's because she can't look me in the eyes. as bad as i want to. when she's ready to be silent and still in the small of my palms, intricate like a whisper, she'll press up against me like she can [only] she can.

me and all my little records.
violence where no one gets hurt.
just the worst of intentions; the subtleties of raw skin.

the dream terrorist: laying sideways. only open for oxygen at that point. and i'm feeling the pressure applied from my incisors to my canines. escape shouts. gravity melts. evac. she just couldn't wait.

i kept my jacket in my car tonight.
on the jacket are pockets, and in the pockets are razors.
i've got the keys to my car.

i saw you tonight without color. your portrait moving our door frames. you spoke rounded, like they did in the 20s. i see you in every soft beauty. i found you. i found you. i knew what i saw when i saw you. we once had. we once had. i don't think i've ever seen you on a wednesday. let's blend into the daytime hours again.

i deserve this head of mine.

could have gone away.

it's actually really funny, but not.
everything is wrong.
mandibles upon the choke screen.

i'm calling on you to save me and you've been here.
i know it.

i'm repeating where we've been. never together only separately. i know this feeling.

say what you have to say to me.

i'm sorry.
so damn sorry.

show me a sight. how can these two hands and ten fingers?
allornothingallornothingallornothing
i'm sorry.
so damn sorry.
i..
we both know....

x

i'm trying to disappear.
it's all the same shakedown.





































you & i.

i can't tell from the size of it.

i saw two hand tattoos today.
one was a peace sign, one was a happy face.
.
one step forward, two steps back.