transcript.

A book like Atlas Shrugged is not meant to be blown through. This is a book that you take with you for the rest of your life. A book that comes with you everywhere. A book that you keep at the corner of your desk. A book that speaks when you speak, sometimes. I feel like speaking with people, I'll be able to then tell if they've ever read through it or not. Ayn Rand has an outstanding outlook on life, and it's one that I've already kept with me for a good portion of my life, and as I've started to have things fall a little bit more into place for me, and I've started to have my head level off, it's the philosophy I've already taken on. Atlas Shrugged has told me to keep on. This is a path that I'm not inventing. While I'd love to be a trailblazer, I also get a new sense of comfort knowing that I'm not alone in uncharted waters. Objectivism is something to be embraced through to the end. Thank goodness I've found it. Thank Nicole for setting me up with it.

Following are some key quotes that I've underlined in the book. Some may come across extremely obscure, being out of context, but just the way that they've been written might make you feel inspired. Some of them are full quotes, others are just three or four words used together. Regardless, these are all statements that have moved me. Enjoy.


"...handing the dime to the shadow that had no face."

"...the color of a fading masterpiece."

"...the blood vessels on a map."

"How can we compete with a man who's got a corner on God's natural resources?"

"She resented the small defeat of being tired."

"She did not want her feeling to be the thing one was supposed to owe an uncle or a grandfather."

"It has taken so much to build this city, it should have so much to offer."

"It was the smile of a man who is able to see, to know, and to create the glory of existence."

"If joy is the aim and the core of existence, she thought, and if that which has the power to give one joy is always guarded as one's deepest secret, then they had seen each other naked in that moment."

"She looked at him silently, as if a voice within her were saying: Not the things that are, but the things we'll make... We are not to be stopped, you and I..." *****

" 'Francisco, what's the most depraved type of human being?'
' The man without a purpose.'" ***

"...she did it because she felt, for some reason which she could not define, that the incident was a secret too precious to share."

" 'The things you were talking about. The lights and the flowers. Do they expect those things to make them romantic, not the other way around?'
'Darling, what do you mean?'
'There wasn't a person there who enjoyed it,' she said, her voice lifeless, 'or who thought or felt anything at all. They moved about, and they said the same dull things they say anywhere. I suppose they thought the lights would make it brilliant.' *

"He listened silently, looking at her for the first time with that glance of unmoving mockery which he reserved for others, a glance that seemed to see too much. She felt as if he heard, in her words, more than she knew she told him." **

"...every man, woman, child and abortion..."

"...the diamond band on the wrist of her naked arm gave her the most feminine of all aspects: the look of being chained."

"...as if sight could wipe out sound." ***

"...proud detachment..."

"...the oil derricks rose to the sky..." [note: imagery] **

"Cheyenne" **

"...like an arm of naked bones and nerves." *

"...the windows had turned gray with daylight."

"...all of them starting on a shoestring and moving mountains." **

" 'It's dust, lady. All dust and blood.'" *****

"'What is morality?' she asked.
'Judgement to distinguish right and wrong, vision to see the truth, courage to act upon it, dedication to that which is good, integrity to stand by the good at any price.'"

"...words had become sounds which transmitted nothing." *

"...the unlimited power of reason." *

"You can all stay home, take no risks and make no enemies." **

"'I hate it! I hate the doom you're all waiting for, the giving up...'"

"For the moment, with an unnatural clarity, with a brutal simplification that made it almost easy, his consciousness contained nothing but one thought: It must not stop me. The sentence hung alone with no past an no future." ****

"...conscious of nothing but pain, a screaming pain without context or limit... pain that stopped thought."

"He had not been guilty of evasion: he had not thought of it, because there was nothing to think."

"Thought is a weapon one uses in order to act. Thought is the tool by which one makes a choice. Thought sets oine's purpose and the way to reach it."

"There is an obscenity of evil whic contaminates the observer."

"He wished he had a friend who could be permitted to see him suffer, without pretense of protection, on whom he could lean for a moment, just to say, 'I'm very tired,' and find a moment's rest." **

"What is it we hear over the telephone - sound vibrations, isn't it? Well, her voice sounds as if it were turning into light vibrations..."

"Such tenants as it sheltered were half-bankrupt, existing, as it did, on the intertia of the momentum of the past."

"This is not the world I expected." ***

"They were alone in the silence of the dead city." **

"It was their daily duty to serve as audience for some public figure who made utterances about the puiblic good, in phrases carefully chosen to convey no meaning."

"...she could not distinguish the sky, the sun or the sounds of an enormous crowd, but perceived only a sensation of shock and light."

"For the moment, there was no future. They had earned the present." ***

"...the sight of an achievement was the greatest gift a human being could offer to others." *

"...a sustained impulse."

"Not to trust, but to know."

"Between sight and touch, between wish and fulfillment, between spirit and body." **

"She did not want to think, but the sound of thought went on." **

"Was this the surrender of a man's spirit to his body?"

"...he snapped the question at the unknown judges of his unwitnessed mood."

"The empty structures were vertical rubble."

"It was like having to perform an autopsy on the body of one's love."

"In this world, either you're virtuous or you enjoy yourself."

"'Yes, that is what I said: the hemophilia -- the slow leak -- the loss of blood that cannot be stopped.' "

"The measured tone of gravity went through every syllable of her voice..."

"...circling violence..."

"...devouring the unborn child of greatness."

"...the element of an emotion never to be admitted."

"'Thought is a primitive superstition. Reason is an irrational idea. The childish notion that we are able to think has been mankind's costliest error."

"The giants of intellect..."

"The men of blood and rust..."

"Of what account are praise and adulation from men who you don't respect?"

"'He's unreconstructed.'"

"She needed a span of time as a bridge between her days and his nights."

"'Why have we left it all to fools? It should have been ours.'" ***

"...but what came from it was only a desire to desire her, a wish to feel, not a feeling."

"'Most peple feel that they rise in their own eyes, if others want them.'"

"...the violent clarity of percetion."

"...he was past the need of words..."

"...an unknown destroyer."

"The moratorium on brains."

"...she felt that she had full control of her body and that she was not aware of her body's existence."

"...the capacity and the concept of doubt..."

"...a great clarity."

"...muscular habit..."

"...a walking classic." **

"...the return of motion and safety."

"Too shaken to sleep."

"No call for victims."

"The beauty of self-immolation."

"'We can never lose the things we live for. We may have to change their form at times, if we've made an error, but the purpose reamins the same and the forms are ours to make.'"

"But the cities has been left behind."

"...the state where disaster is no longer possible."

"...the spinal cord of a dead train."

"...her voice had no color..."

"The green circle glowed in space, announcing a clear track, inviting motion where there was nothing to move. Who was that philosopher,she thought, who preached that motion exists without any moving entities? This was his world, too."

"...a face that bore no mark of pain or fear or guilt."

"'Mine,' he answered, kicking the door in." [note: YEAH! That's action movie!]

"...no remnant of violence."

"...conscious of her hands."

"'There it is -- it's your earth, your kingdom, your kind of world."***

"...the unrhythmical abruptness of the involuntary."

"The emotional sum..."

"...to shelter the birth of a skyscraper." **

"...the night of closed eyelids."

"...her single, unchanging reality."

"...a glance like the visual equivalent of the words: What's your angle?"

"...restlessly demanding anything but this pause."

"...submerged hysteria..."

"They seemed to be waiting to be told what to think."

"...a voice like a machine gun spitting smiles."

"...slouching against the sky..."

"...a look of fear in the process of being accepted as permanent..."

"We are those who do not disconnect the values of their minds from the actions of their bodies, those who do not leave their values to empty dreams, but bring them into existence, those who give material form to thoughts." **

"...the thing to do is not get scared, but to learn."

"She had to learn to understand the things that destroyed her."***

"...flooded by the dead."

"He carried an automatic pistol in one pocket and a rabbit's foot in the other."

"...making one conscious, not of the gems, but of the living beat behind them."

"'I saw the world as he made it look, as if it matched him, as if he were its symbol.'"

"...past crying or feeling or moving."**

"...a monument of guilt."

"He had not known what the destruction of a person would be like."

"...threadbare phrases."

"'I swear -- by my life and my love of it -- that will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.'"

"If a naked bullet could feel in mid-flight, this is what it would feel, she thought; just the motion and the goal."

"...the spitting violence of their bullets the storm, it would not bring comfort to their bodies."

"...neither their God nor their guns..."

"'The desire not to be anything is the desire not to be.'" ****

"That is the payment I demand. Not many can afford it. I don't mean your enjoyment, I don't mean your emotion -- emotions be damned! -- I mean your understanding and the fact that your enjoyment was of the same nature as mine, that it came from the same source: from your intelligence, from the conscious judgement of a mind able to judge my work by the standard of the same values that went to write it -- I mean, not the fact that you felt, but that you felt what I wished you to feel, not the fact that you admire my work, but that you admire it for the things I wished to be admired." **********

-

Some of the chapter titles are even out of control. Check this.

1.1 - The Theme
1.2 - The Chain
1.3 - The Top and the Bottom
1.4 - The Immovable Movers
1.7 - The Exploiters and the Exploited
1.10 - Wyatt's Torch

2.1 - The Man Who Belonged On Earth
2.2 - The Aristocracy of Pull
2.3 - White Blackmail
2.4 - The Sanction of the Victim
2.7 - The Moratorium on Brains
2.10 - The Sign of the Dollar

3.1 - Atlantis
3.2 - The Utopia of Greed
3.4 - Anti-Greed
3.5 - Their Brothers' Keepers
3.8 - The Egoist
3.9 - The Generator
3.10 - In the Name of the Best Within Us

the monolith.

i think i know what i want to do now.
a full telling of the homecoming is coming.
a big breakup of the breakdown.

tenant.

this post will contain pictures.

to start off the festivities, though, our duck/geese/chicken birds that live around here had babies. it's pretty great, because every once in a while, you'll see the whole clique of them wandering around with either a male or a female (you can tell them apart by their coloring, i'm pretty sure, though i'm not sure who's who) accompanying about 8-10 little chicks. i'm not really sure if these birds are actually ducks or geese, but the reason the word chicken comes into play is the color scheme as well as those gobbler type situations they have on their face. either way, here are pictures that i took of them.








that's that for them.

but let me tell you a story about a parking spot and some chalk.

each apartment in this complex gets one parking spot dedicated to them. so me and dave switch off trying to find a guest spot. sometimes coming home very late from the beach (i'm talking 1 or 2 in the morning, due to work, or any other reason) means that there are NO spots left. so we try to find guest spots earlier on during the day so that one of us is at least guaranteed a spot if we're home late. but we found a loophole in the situation. what if there were a vacant spot?

dave started monitoring this without my knowledge. he found a spot right in our lot that wasn't parked in for a month. i moved in real quick. i left my phone number, just in case there would be a problem. maybe, in some odd situation, the person only parked there when we weren't home. not on purpose. just due to availability and lifestyle differences. so i left my phone number, and our apartment number, and my name. for three days, there was no problem.

on the third day, VERY early in the morning (6:57a) i got a call from a 786 number (that's around here) and they left me a voicemail about the parking spot. i was like oh shit. but that's fine, either way. i take my shower, because i have to go to work, anyway. around 8:57a (i usually leave at 9) i am about to leave, and i hear voices outside the apartment mildly agitated and panicked. so i open our kitchen window a little bit more so i can listen.

the dialogue is something like this.

: yes, it's a little black car, and it's been there for three days.
. three days? overnight?
: yes, and i'm not sure whose it is. they've left a number, and we tried calling it, but he didn't pick up.
. that's horrible. i can't imagine who would do such a thing.
: (unintelligible; still pleading)
. i'll take care of it. did you call the front gate? believe me, this will be taken care of.

at this point, i slipped out the front door, booked down the stairs, jumped in my car and left. i have no idea what the guy who was willing to "take care of it" would've done, but i mean, there was no need at all to find out. i, technically, am in the wrong here. so i leave, and once i get to work and have been there a couple hours, i call the number that called me back. i leave my name, my cell #, my work #, my apartment #, and how they can contact me. i tell him the story about how no one's parked there for a month, and we didn't think it'd be a problem, to get back to me about what the situation is with the spot, and if he just plain didn't want to discuss it any further, that it's fine, i just won't park there anymore unless i hear back from him.

i didn't hear back from him.

it's been another month, and STILL, no one parks there.
it's STILL vacant.

so last night, i took some sidewalk chalk that we picked up on the drive here, and made this.





it might stir something up, and it might cause trouble, but i really would like a reason that i can't park in your spot. even if you CALL me and tell me that it's just principle, that's fine. but at this point in time, i see no reason not to come back to that spot.

any reason would do. "my older mother comes to town intermittently, and we like to keep the spot open for her, because she can't walk very well." ; "i like to have a spot open for friends when they come so they don't have to look for a spot." ; "this is my july home. park there june and august, etc., but just NOT july." give me something; anything, man.

hopefully someone starts parking there. it really pisses me off that such a ridiculous situation has come up. i'm going to try to protest in the most creative ways i can.

a smile tells you just for now, or just keep going.

i have so much going on in my head that i turned my computer on to blog. just to blog. i had to get it all down because i thought i might lose something. that's the kind've fear the words and their conjunctions feel. that's the kind've fear that i feel.

gentlemen, start your engines.

i meet someone new every day. every day. it's empowering. it's a revelation to the miniscule reality that i might face if i don't continuously put myself out there. if i resort to a life on an island. i'm having second third fourth and fifth thoughts about where i want to be forever. the real answer is nowhere. i want to... really, i long to be a traveller. somehow, someway, things might happen. the only way that they will happen, though, is if i end up making them happen. i talk a big game.

tonight, it was a french girl named Ellen (it could've been Helen, through the accent) who came back in just to hangout because she was "passing through." she came in wednesday night, buying things with family. her father, her brothers. and we spoke a little. mostly about where to find certain DVDs. lame. but she came back in tonight, looking for me, and talking to me, and still looking pretty great. at least, for a girl who i will only know for a day or two. she didn't tell me when she's leaving. but i feel like it'll be on sunday. all of them always leave on sunday.

you know, because life begins again on mondays.
even in europe.

i find it hard, sometimes, to get really dedicated to words and their output while music is playing. music that i care about, anyway. i get easily distracted by one of the two, either creating, or the creation. i'm never sure which one is more important. example: right now, the new post roman is playing and i want to give it my full attention, because it really deserves it. there's so much happening.

there's a thunderstorm brewing just on the outside of where i'm living. i think it's passing by, though. there was no real gradual process to it. it'll be gone in a half hour, hanging over the head of someone else entirely.

that's fine. headlights are still streaming in to our apartment complex.

i think of her less and less.
even though i wrote that, you need to believe me.

in the tomorrow which is actually today, i hope that i can see that light of day. i want cloudlessness. something beyond warmth. i want to feel something other than the insides of the walls. i want to hear my beating heart. i want it to hurt when i open my eyes.

i think next week i'm not going to sleep for the best reasons.

she'd never think it, i think.
i think it's the distance, i think.
if she understood, i'd say i can't understand it either.
leave it alone.
tell 19 year old me where he'll be today.
tell 19 year old me that this will even exist.

as much of failed attempt as a lot of it seems, for one thing, i've lost absolutely no one in my departure from home. it started feeling like maybe i had. the new groups of friends, the silences, the silences, the skewed text messages, and the out of importances. when i think about how it all really is, put up and held together by nothing different than A Home Life, I can see that I've only gained a greater understanding of who will be left when it's all put together at the very end. what's been the borders and boundaries, and what's been the heartland. and yes, most of who i've added is just more borders, more boundaries, and more peripheral. but some are lifelong lifelines, if i've got anything to do with it. the new area codes, and new sorts of dialtones. random exposure through vocal representations. some days, having to dial out of the country just to be remembered.

remember, the world's not falling apart, no matter how it feels,
because it's falling in place.

a monologue.

i have all the characteristics of a human being.
flesh, blood, skin, hair.
but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion except for
greed and disgust.

something horrible is happening inside of me and i don't know why.
my nightly bloodlust has overflowed into my days.
i feel lethal; on the verge of frenzy.
i think my mask of sanity is about to slip.

the piano plays for days.
the piano is drunk.

five, ten, ocean, twenty.

Someone asks "So, what's ur deal?"
"I'm taking over america," I say. "One word at a time."

I see someone mouth the words, "fuck everyone." I'm not sure the context he's referencing. Somewhere surrounded by silence I think we'd agree on a lot of things. Then again, maybe not.

Where I'm at, I think Matthew Fox is the DJ. And he loves retro lounge music.

Here, no one likes me, except the one person I'm here to see. A goal set 6 years ago. I'm for real.

Here, no one likes me, but they like the people they speak to even less.

I wonder what the cutoff is. The age limit, the price limit, the size limit on t-shirts. And at what point humping your friend is better than minding your own business, and waiting patiently. I'm for real.

"He knows nothing, and I know too much."

Here, in miami, no one looks like me. I could be Slovakian. They don't know how I do in my town. My country.

I laugh at conversations happening in different timelines. In different lifelines.

Second looks are worth what it takes to make that first look.

Imagine Nextel Walkie Talkies. Now imagine them in other languages.

What if I never make it home?
That's a fear I can't bring myself to face.

It Dies Today - My Promise
Poison the Well - A Wish

killbettystrashh: today has been quite the day for you, hasnt it?
i am no impact: the dayest.

10/90
90/10
(95/5)
85/15

back to square.

"don't have a supplier?! you got me, nigga!"

no.
you're going to save your money.

slave to the page.

in light of the so so many things that are happening in other places, for fuck's sake, i thank certain situations for crushing me to the point where i can now keep it together. you can take that on a worldly level or a personal level or a local level. it works on all of them. but i think if you're reading this, you know. cross your forehead, cross your lips, cross your hearts. amen.

i got asked to be on an album today. i met with a kid who i've been talking to who raps. i hadn't heard his demo, and i'm thinking, okay, it might be weak, but whatever. it can't be any worse than myspace.com/hiphopwannabes, and it can't be any worse, music-wise, than local artists who are constantly constantly sending LISTEN TO US messages around. so i scope this kid out, and he spits me some verses that aren't on his thing. and me, the resourceful one, takes out the damn composition book.

: what's this, all of your secret thoughts?
. ha, naw man, this is my book of rhymes, haha.
: oh shit, sorry nasir jones.
. aaight, give me a second.

i drank from a glass of water and made sure i had flexibility of the mouth.

: hahaha, you see this kid?
. aaight, man. here it is.

i gave him what i thought was some of my best stuff. as i'm reading it, my mind is going blank, writing new things, new places, new people, new characters, new pronunciations, and new ways to read old passages. to make things that've already happened and that people have already seen completely painted in new colors. i thought about a story i'm still trying to finish up. my mouth was doing the movement. before i knew it, i was done, and i slammed the book closed. for effect, mostly, but also, because i needed it to end. i'm only nervous just before and just after i read.

: i want you on my album.
. what man, really?!
: i want you on my album.
. dude, that's crazy. just like that?!
: i want you on my album.

that's the sort of thing i've been waiting around to happen for a while. what am i doing. hopefully that's the sort've effect i can have on more people than local rappers, but if this is as far as it goes, so be it. i'm looking at it as a hobby. it's never going to be a career. that's not why i do it.

however, getting so inspired by a mild success, i ended up writing and sending out a bunch of e-mails to a bunch of magazines, local and larger, to try to see if the success would come in avalanches. it won't. i'm not expecting any e-mails back.

dave said it best, though.
"sending e-mails out is better than NOT sending e-mails out."

i'm thinking about what's going on with my life, really, and i accidentally start thinking about people approving/disapproving of what i'm doing, and what i want to do. that's usually not the sort of thing i get all caught up in. but i have a lot of time on my hands here. it just creeps in sometimes. i think about certain things that i could say about anyone else doing what i'm in the middle of doing.

"so, he just went to florida to go? is there a job there? is there a girl there? is there anything there? oh. well, i mean, that's cool that he wants to do that... but, i mean, isn't it kind've pointless? what happens when he comes back? he left his job. they won't take him back. people usually get this sort've stuff out of the way by going away to school. he's out there not accomplishing anything. i could see if he was really living it up, and it was one big experience that he wouldn't forget, but it's just more life in another state." -- it goes on and on.

all of that stuff is the sorts of judgements i pass on myself. i can't even imagine the things that people who AREN'T me think. the people who don't have to set up walls between the things they say and the way they feel inside, because they can say the most painful things because they won't be hurting anyone but him. but me.

i'm trying to really not fall behind the ball here. i'm trying to get some moves in order. trying to make more than $20k/year, because i'm just not accomplishing very much. i have nothing to show for anything i've done, other than memories, and the way people feel about me. that, to me, is more valuable and rewarding than anything else that you can pickup behind a desk or a laptop or a counter or a steering wheel. but it's not going to keep you dry or memorable.

it's finally at the point where i've fallen the furthest behind my peers. officially. i don't want to keep up, necessarily, but i don't want to be completely obsolete.

i could talk like this forever, just until i start to make that difference.
it's time to make the believers get their ways, man.
it was cute for long enough.

hammerghasted.

i told you this already. "you're making a huge mistake."
i saw you already. there just aren't any surprises.
welcome to the periphery.

i just want to think that i missed out; is that okay with you?

nothing is happening here.
i just saw you already.
and if it makes you feel any better,
probably not, i've already left, sign at the bottom,
they'll never see it coming.

shopping.

i think going food shopping is becoming one of my favorite things to do. for some reason, all of this stuff actually feels like it's going to make a difference. i'm not really into clothing (except for fullbleed, and band shirts, but those are mostly just random accounts of fashion) and shoes come once in a blue. right now, i'm rocking asics that i'm really digging but i saw some more kicks right across from where i'm putting in hours, and i'm thinking about picking them up, too.

so, anyway, let me give you a run down of what i bought tonight.

• vitamin water: endurance (2)
  
• vitamin water: energy (2)
  
• vitamin water: formula 50 (2)
  
• vitamin water: essential (2)
  
• lean pockets: supreme pizza (2)
  
• kashi cinnamon harvest cereal
  
• publix frozen cheese ravioli
  
• publix fudge swirl sundae cups
  
• stouffer's french bread pizza deluxe
  
• stouffer's french bread pizza plain
  
• voila chicken alfredo bagged pasta dinner
  
• red stripe 12 pack
  
• wheat thins: honey
  
• mott's cinnamon apple sauce
  
• publix fat free milk
  
• publix baby cut carrots
  
• boar's head turkey breast (1 lb.)
  
• maruchan ramen chicken flavor (2)
  
• maruchan ramen creamy chicken flavor (2)
  
• maruchan ramen roast beef flavor
  

about $64. i dig.

dave's on his way to NY at the moment. his flight got delayed two or three times. that was kind've out of control. i have the place to myself until sunday night, at which point he'll return with his brother for a week. i'm semi stoked to see the kid.

my mom sent me shorts, and bathing suits, and sandals, and a ton of records from record companies for review. it was all awesome. i'm glad to get care packages like that. so far, the only mail i've got is from family. i've sent out a pretty fair share, and i guess i shouldn't expect much in return. that's fine.

in fact, i wrote a letter late last night, and didn't send it because the envelopes are in dave's room. i woke up this morning and wanted to send it, but i just couldn't do it. i feel like i need some sort've clearance first. it's a ridiculous dynamic that i don't know how or why i created it for myself. it sparked from this thought that i had last night about time bombs, and blue wires and red wires. it's two pages, and folded up, and signed from me, and will probably end up being just another piece of undelivery.


i work in a city by the beach

birth after/state.

written at 9:35a
South Beach
right here:


Okay, so maybe it does get better.
Maybe you show up to work a little early and you get to sit on the beach.
Maybe the 50 minute commute turns into a 15 minute one (and when you tell them on the phone, they can't tell the difference).
I wonder if they want me here tomorrow.

Okay, maybe last night instead of sleeping I was making big plans.

I get breaks here at this record store for a half hour a day. We run parallel to Ocean Dr., where all the bougie girls wear their sequen and drink margaritas. Here, where no one really lives, is where the tall glasses with those umbrellas made their name. I walk faceless and alone through this crowd, because for now, these are my streets, and they're the faceless, and they're going home.

Where they stop at corners and main street attractions, I know people's names behind counters halfway down Washington Ave.

I've been here for four days.
I drink coffee under palm trees.

I meet europeans who fish for words in my language as I try my best to be articulate in my line of questioning. Beyond small talk, I'm meeting characters on their own stage. One day, I hope to be in their shoes. Some ageless Londoner writes on his laptop, "I meet americans who swim in yankee accents..." and the list goes on, me on my stage.

I met a girl in Jersey who liked to sketch.
I think I look for her sometimes, because she's my type of people.
She guessed our age.

Next time, I'm bringing shorts.
Today, on my clocked out, unpaid half hour, I'm going to Urban Outfitters on the strip to scope out some slip-ons.

Lesson One: Expect nothing from anyone, even if they're the Everyone.
Lesson Two: I need to be working to remain happy.
Lesson Three: Bring your life with you everywhere. You never know who might have a ticket.

the arcs of your pockets.

the first thing i'd tell you if you were to pick up and leave is to not expect a damn thing from anyone or anything. don't overgeneralize or grant an overfidelity in the way the world works.

mistake #1.

just because you're not afraid doesn't mean that things are going to work out.
it doesn't make the coals any cooler.

at least this is practice.
this is nowhere i'm needed.

life displacement.

i'm over 1300 miles away from home.
1300 miles.

i think people think they know what that's like, but really, they don't. i thought i did. i thought i could project an emotion or at least an emulated emotion on myself to simulate the feeling of what it is to be away from everyone, every thing, every place that you know. but it's really completely different.

in our gated community, there's a path you can walk up as a pedestrian to get back into the buildings. i literally couldn't open the door. it's things like that that make you feel completely new to a whole new way of life. there's no way you can figure something like that out without trying it again and again and getting completely used to it. that's just the start of it.

i've been trying to do as much shopping and as much living as possible. south beach, whole foods, compusa, publix, gnc, julio's, etc. there's a ton of different places that i still want to see. simple things like movie theaters (which i think i'll be in tonight) and best buys (probably next tuesday for The Sleeping [who i will likely be seeing tomorrow] and Peeping Tom, and The Sound of Animals Fighting) and things like that. things that might even remind me of home just a little bit.

things like maps, and soda bottles, and manhattan rocks, and spanuga.
i miss my sister.

i miss all of you.

i got here and within two days, i had an application filled out and ready to hand in to a music store. i went back in the next day and spoke with a man named dano, who's over 35 years old and has sleeves and a pony tail. i think i'll fit in with him pretty nicely there. he seemed pissed, and focused, and in the mood to work. i go back in tomorrow for an interview. i hope that i nail it, and start working down there, right by the beach, right by a ton of interesting people, and just away from here, a community, and just another opportunity to meet new people.

i need people. i love people.

i think about what i'm doing as a human being, and what i'm looking to do on a long term and short term person. it's not really a fear i have just yet, but it is definitely something that i want to sort've pinpoint.

i come close to saying what it is that i want to do in conversations. i want to have people put their hands on their heads with MY words. i want to educate people, and motivate people.

it's too much.

i went shopping to find some things for dinner. i got chicken patties and whole wheat hamburger buns, some pasta sauce, and some tortellini. i'm hoping that'll be good for a little while.

listen to me. look at her.

aloha.
it means hello and goodbye.

june carter, ladies and gentlemen. she's real. i think i've harvested her spirit. where i've been digging, i think i've uprooted something realistic in the way the eyes can trap a way of life.

i've found june carter and on the eve of a killing she's made decades tap like unsynaptic bookends. count the words of separation on a leper's fingers. she's calling home to check the wooden houses and shaking the corners free from the cobwebs of clockwork.

june carter left a stockcar driver to be in love. she left the ring at home when she locked the door, a spiral to pawn or packrat. she left until the day she came back to stay back. she left a house to make a home.

she left a house to make a home.

baby
baby
baby
baby
baby.

june carter, her and i, we live in love that lasts.



i will illuminate
slowly the orbs that grow
to warm you.

i'm trying to find the right way to say
more than
but less than.

tres semanas.

i have a hard time finding someone to keep up with me.

not just the late nights. not just the conversation. not just the demanding musical taste. not just the humor. really, just all of it. and maybe i'll never find that. but i've been finding it lately, or at least feeling (or imagining) a burning desire from others who have been trying to match it because i'm on the verge of departure.

this is the right thing to do, because it's something that i want to do, and that i envy and daydream about. it's something that i want to write, and something that i hate to read, because it's not me. the problem is, it's a retreat and a dream that can only be pursued through disconnection. there's no way to write it off. when i'm so far away, things are going to be different. i lie to myself sometimes, or maybe it's just me forgetting. i say there are phones, and envelopes, and an entire ocean of information keeping us connected. airmail, and packages, and cameras, and visits, and all of the words i have at my disposal which should be able to fill the void of late night hangouts, movie nights, ice cream, windows down, solitary album confinement, headbanging, beer runs, ecstacy and locked doors, arms, small bodies, "i'll come see you at the store," or "come outside! i'm here!"

yeah, like there is any amount of words that can match the way my eyes meet yours.
all of you.

i'm taking a chance.

last night, as part of a huge first step in the rest of the way an interaction will carry on throughout my entire life (christina romito), i cried remembering back to the first night i told all of you that i was leaving. the saddest night that i've ever had without romantic heartbreak was on valentine's day and just bawling because i told carissa that i'm leaving. it was probably one of the most genuine emotional releases i've ever been subjected to, because this wasn't something that was done to me, or some sort of rejection... this was the fear, and the acceptance of a change in the way of life. this was a realization of everything at once, and a denial of reality. this was the first breathe of growing up and getting out. i remembered the nerves of trying to tell rahul that i'm not going to be able to be a part of the endless cycle that we've created. telling brian that, yes, another one is leaving. telling kerry that there's no more 3-5am. telling mikey and kim that as they're waxing, i'm waning; i'll see their child grow up in phases in photos.

that whole emotion, so heavy, that, listen, when i'm gone, it's all just sporadic contact from here on in. maybe i'll be home. telling tina, someone who was once my best friend, my lover, my entire existence from time to time, that for these past three months while we've been reconstructing, and destroying a way of life, we've been wasting all of the time that we could've been logging building up a buffer that would make it okay to be far away from each other. the same way i've been doing with everyone else. making every second count.

instead, we hear about each other through various questions that we pretend not to want to ask, and through a photographic networking site, and through acquaintances who say, "hey, have you heard...?" fuck love, fuck new love, fuck old love... this girl is my fucking friend, and we work on any level we want to work on.

admission: i wish we never stopped talking, and that we had filters that would make us just end up leaving all of the baggage at the door back then, instead of waiting for the baggage to become boxed up in a glass cube that isn't feared any longer. just something that we could look in on at our own discretion. i wish i had at least march and april back. it might be too short of a time span to try to rebuild enough of a rapport to even keep in touch, dedicatedly, while i'm away.

c'est la vie.

nicole was probably the easiest to tell the saddest part too. we've done this before. we have miles under our belt that no one can even touch. 6 months of romance, a jersey farewell that i can't ever drive away from without looking in the rearview, and a few close calls of silences that were absolutely necessary. we've done this through tears, and screaming, and laughing, and sighing, and blabbering, and talking, and advising, and everything. i know no matter where we are, we will always be great. this time, it's just my address changing, and my location being transplanted. i love that she won't know where she might be in three to six months. because i know that i'll be finding out just as she will.

but those sad emotions all came rushing back to me and overshadowed all of the amazing emotions that i feel about a completely new place. the experience, the drive, a completely unattached life, the warmth, the world, the environment, the freshness, the new faces that i just won't recognize, the new streets, the shaking free any intentional or unintentional shackles that've held me down. this is what i need, and what i've been looking forward to. maybe not THIS city, but ANY city other than home. i love home. i love long island. i love here.

i am not a laser.
i am rays.

i'm not like anyone else that i know. i'm going to find out which parts of me stick and which parts of me will grow and which parts of me fall away and which parts of me blossom that i never knew i had. i'm going to find out everything.

this could be the best thing that's ever happened to me.
this could just be the beginning.
this could just be 'nice try.'

anathallo.

Yo are you serious? She says "let me hit that before I go out." A mixing and mingling of mind and matter. "I feel like a bunch of fucking hippies." Reliving a lifetime and an experience completely un our own. Tell me that it'll be good enough to not invent our own time period. Our own generation. Hippies set the bar, and we all reach it and fall down, reach it and fall, reach it and fuckin fall. Make new names for your lifetimes. a living legend of a hero that has never even been met yet. That works a job. That makes

Quote. "Oh, you graduated in 2005? I graduated in 2004. You a baby." I'm always the oldest of all the occupants.

"Can you stop climbing on me? I'm not a mountain."

Incubus - The Warmth
Jose playing sideways. Brandon singing. Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold.

Eyes open halfway and never had a chance. Can't see past tonight. Tomorrow might be work tomorrow might be selling or buying. Tomorrow could be another chance to waste a chance.

Thursday - Jet Black New Year.

I wrote her, she never wrote back and ill wait for her forever I think. Where is she right now. Either the worker or the drinker. The swimmer. The lover. The lover. The feeler. The thinker. The writer. The laugher. The lover. The misser. The memory. The disaster. The ever.

And ever.

A fight over who can smoke. And who stole who's joke. "My neighbors are old, but they hear really well." Pwned.

Only three left. Four now. Silence, and eating cookies. And wanting water. Outside and there's a hoodie I can grab and call someone and get in their damn way.

Matter of fact... Daves girlfriend... Her name is jen or something... She looks like Her mom. Kids are going to sleep or making out. What's happening here.

the things we pack away; the things we keep at home.

i have to start to realize, some day, that when people aren't hanging out, that doesn't mean they're not appreciating you. i forget this all the time. not so much FORGET, but overlook. because i know that it's fine.

i never realized that i throw things in people's faces as often as i do until tonight. my spot was blown up right before my eyes. instead of being covered in the aftermath, i sort've watched it explode and trickle down. i get it now.

the past few days, i just haven't felt like myself. especially at home. i find myself not even knowing what i want to do; what i want to hear, or watch, or experience. no clue who i want to hear from, or what i want to say. what questions i want to ask. what words i want to write. i'm usually so focused, and deliberate. it leaves me feeling really lost. i think about the fact that this is how some people lead their entire lives. jesus.

he's just trying to scratch the itch.

a tidy inparticular.

i didn't see anybody the whole ride home. the whole 3,000 miles of it, just about 7 exits. not one car, no taillights. it wasn't until i stopped at the bank that i jumped out to make a deposit of the tin cans i'd turned into robots that i left the door open to blast the techno out into open spaces. when i get back in i settle back into the reclinable but unreclined cockpit to unwind and readjust (but still not recline) and a man with brass knuckles and no degree knocks on my window. he tells me to drive, right after he calls me a mother fucker. unlocking the doors, i let him in on the other side, and i ask him why he didn't just take the car and fly solo. "i can't. i'm illiterate, he says." his knuckles mouth the words five times, and they all look like the c3p0 version of his dali-self. i dropped him off at the blood bath as three cars drove into dead churches in reverse.



my lover's antiquated. nigga, she don't even exist.