Saturday, February 27, 2010

i was going to write a story for a website but it turned into something else quite quickly

dear those who know me and think this may be about someone in particular: it isn't/it is, kind of and for the most part.  this is a semi-organized stream of thought regarding 'things' that sometimes deal heavily with 'her'.
Freshman in college trying to get some
Lovers in college taking philosophy together
Walking in gardens smiling at tulips 2 am
Thinking of the world each other and happiness
Crying over loss hate longing
How many people have you been with?
“between 100 and 500”
there was no rest that night
things were bad
things were good
sex, lots of sex
he walked in the snow in the cold in the freezing shit of the world
to be with her to escape her to be with her
he was with her for a second
for a few years
maybe four
flash back on a bench in the city or flash forward to a
flash back in a gazebo holding hands talking the night away where there was a
flash forward behind the glow of her laptop
maybe in a house where he sat in the glow while she partied
fucked and drank and ignored
maybe it wasn’t her
in college and confused sort of fucked
that was his first
that was her fears realized
realized when he was in the shower with another being that was different
wasn’t her
he lied
how many people have you been with?
“Between 100 and 500”
Things were bad
Things were good
Sex, lots of sex
Someone perished it was sad and everyone felt remorse
He was sad but he couldn’t cry
He tried to cry
He forced himself
Emotionally null or in love but all the same
Things were good
Things were bad
Sex, lots of sex
She saw an owl
An omen, or maybe just an owl
No she didn’t see it she loved it
No they were hiking she saw a deer
They fought they loved
Four years later she almost died
And he walked away
One day later he felt regret, remorse, longing, self-loathing
Three months later and six months and ten months and twelve months still
One year later he decided he wanted to be together forever
A month too late
A day too late
Two months too late
How many people have you been with?
“Between 100 and 500”
Things were good
Things were bad
Sex, there was no sex
She fell in love with another him
A different him
He’s only really been with one

Monday, February 22, 2010

a little beauty

for your night:

las ondas marteles

never heard of them/listened to them until i watched these lovely la blogoteque sessions.  they got a fantastic unique sound.  something bout that lead singer cracking in and out of his tenor and the deep bass/the nakedness of it all. cuban/mexican/parisian musical influences create a sound unlike anything i can think of for comparison. 

four videos at the link.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

more haiku

i want my heart back
i want to be over you
yr smiling with him

Friday, February 19, 2010


it's the little things
like a handful of raisins
leave me frozen here

Thursday, February 18, 2010

a home dichotomy

my 'little' sister is a 'successful' graphic designer in NYC, she resides in williamsburg.  for the most part she is in love with it, but a kind of love that comes after a year of dating or so.  she is a year younger than me.  she has incredible talent in the ways of visual art/graphic design/crafting things that are neat.  she can sing like a pretty lil bird and is smart like a dolphin.  she stayed up really late and wrote these and i shared them:

2 poems by jenna

I used to reject it
There was so much in the world outside of it that I never thought I’d look back
Its simple and quiet but I wasn’t then
Corn fields are boring and soy fields too
The quiet        
Sweating why cant we have air conditioning 
There are bugs eating away the ivy
Cicadas so loud you cant hear inside your head
Driving cars around bendy bits for the rush
There is room to scream
You need more you say
To yell so you fill up the entire sky
Echoing your voice to the stars
And offend noone

If only I could have it all back

To  the city
You are dirty and foul
Your rivers are polluted with the waste of millions
Your streets and dumps and alleys are full of the sludge of human cosumerism
We become fat and docile and laugh
Our rosy cheeks

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

dear mom, i hope you never read this

i have a really hard cock with great manners
i know what you are thinking
like, 'no that can not be so, that is sort of an oxymoron'
i really have a really hard cock with really great manners
you should see him at cock-tail parties
cock-tail parties are his forte
'would you please pour me a palate-cleansing spot of port my dear man'
'the tiramazu is a gustatory delight, you are a true artisan'
he always stands when a lady enters or exits too
he is always clean, and keeps himself well-groomed
GQ magazine says "it's all about the details when dressing to impress"
he is the envy of GQ
when he is one on one with a lady
he never makes an appearance too soon or too late
he is always right on time 
he swears:
'coming late is rude and coming too early is not respectable for a gentleman of of my stature'
my really hard cock is all about making sure people enjoy themselves
he is selfless, though he delights in the pleasure of others
if he makes a mess, he always cleans up after himself
and if he is out when the weather gets wet, he fashionably dons a rain-jacket
Esquire magazine has a list of "things men should be able to do"
he is the paradigm of the "Esquire man"
ladies always compliment him
i am glad to have a really hard cock with great manners
thank you

Monday, February 15, 2010

it is cold and winter here

a fantastic lady friend of mine and i played a game on gchat.  i told her to transport me away from my screen, my cold feet, the chilly winter night, and this moment in time by using 2 words.   it began like this:

her: free
me: hm good. i feel like im naked on the sidewalk with a box around me and a man just gave me his half-eaten hot dog, i look down to take a bite only to realize he left nothing but the bun.
that man was a jerk.

this game quickly evolved/she is a muse perhaps

it's summertime, not really hot or anything, just a beautiful balmy day. the porch is grey and the paint chips off the ground. brick pillars support the roof hanging over the porch, brilliant white in the summer light. the sun emanates triangular specks of heaven on the chipping paint through vines crawling at a languid pace up the trellis. you sit calmly sipping your drink with a drip of perspiration running down your cheek, rocking leisurely on the porch swing. a warm glow surrounds the porch, the blue sky just barely visible through the latticed shadows cast on the wall. you breathe deeply, cut grass and earthy sweet flowers reach your nose. not a thought of anything reaches you, you are of the summer forever.

two lovers are blithely strolling amongst the firefly mirth. the air is electric - charged with the glowing chaos of thousands of creatures content to experience their short existence in full. there is a duality to this electric quality, the feeling of anxious expectation with a new lover. they pause, the warm night air sending a slight shiver up their spines. he sighs. the cicadas buzz and a slight breeze rustles the lush and full trees, nature whispers gently. she turns to him, 'doodley dee, let's forget our lives for a while, let's pack the mud and leave it in the summer sun, becoming baked dirt in the afternoon. we'll burn leaves with a magnifying glass in the hot summer sun and run barefoot in the grass.' he can't help but kiss her there in the moonlight and tall grass, her soft lips moist and perfect.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Friday, February 12, 2010

winter surfing

i saw men that looked like seals in the dead of winter and i decided to join them
we paddle around and ride energy
you would not believe the pleasure we feel
even when you feel like your feet are something similar to ice
what a cold thing
a cold thought
a cold image
we look like seals in the water
seals look like dogs peaking their heads out of the ocean
therefore we look like  dogs
nah we are not dogs
well, maybe we are but that requires abstract thought as to what 'dog' can represent
it is sort of a human idiom
so no we aren't dogs
though i think dogs would be offended if they knew how we used the term 'dog' though not 'dawg'
they might think that is neat
a self-actualized dog might think 'this is offensive' when he hears someone called a dog because of the way they carry on
poor dog
i will not call people 'dogs' anymore

Thursday, February 11, 2010

aural pleasure coming through with a video that makes the hairs on my neck stand up - beautiful!

morning benders with a the 'big echo orchestra'. it appears they succeeded.
or watch it here:

Saturday, February 6, 2010

wow it is snowing

this is so neat
i am glad i came home
i am sitting next to my mother
and my sister
they are beautiful people
we are snowed in
my sister wears a red hat with flappy ears
and a big brim with a pink bathrobe
it is so ironic
she seethes anger at her hipster boy toy from williamsburg
he turned out to be less than wholesome
there were walrus's or i guess they are walri when plural
well, walri is underlined in red but i like it better than walrus's
it rolls off the lips
they were at the aquarium in new york
they were not happy to be trapped in the glass
i saw a youtube video of a walrus pleasuring itself orally
that was a non sequitor
i'm heartbroken and she wants to be in love
my mom is a great listener

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

ouch my eye really hurts

nah it's okay now
that was intense momentary pain
"help me to understand you. I think we need to try to let go."
that is sort of the same deal
but i don't know how to react to that
when my eye hurts i grasp it
itch it a little
and then everything is okay.
unfortunately i do not know how to itch my heart
or my brain 
this kind of pain sort of centers over my forehead maybe
and sometimes in my chest
it is more of a dull throb
but it does not make my face grimace like real pain
it makes me think about things a lot
i just erased the next line 4 times though i think i know how this will end
i was going to try to investigate how i feel
but i am pretty neutral right now
no one really enjoys reading about my feelings
and this seems so cliche
i fucking hate cliche
i am not depressed
i want my writing to be slightly sardonic, ideally humorous and not just sad and bleak and depressing
sometimes i think my only follower jenna thinks i'm depressed
but she knows better
i think
well, i'm still stuck on 'hello'
except, there was no 'hello'
instead you said
"so i minimized, and your eyes filled every empty space"
ya it still ended how i thought it would

Monday, February 1, 2010

a blog post for no one really

this is a poem or some thoughts
contained in a blog post
that is for no one really
and i will type it in here
in this box
like i am important
people will not comment nor see it ever
unless they accidentally get to this page
i am not sad
i am just honest
and there really is nothing wrong with that
i have posted cool things to check out but
then i realized that this is pretty pointless
when no one reads your blog
so now i write some things instead
like how a seal popped his head out
of the water
when i was surfing
and i thought
'oh god'
at first because i was scared
but then i realized he was a seal
and not a shark
or human terrorist ninja in scuba gear
which would be kinda sweet
but it wasn't so i was a little perturbed and kept my distance and caught a wave and it was so cold and i paddled back out and my hands were freezing and my body was tired and kind of heavy from wearing so much wetsuit stuff and for a second i felt really alone in the ocean and that's sort of scary even when you surf all the time and i looked up and the seal was gone
i didn't think of you while i surfed
i think
but i don't remember now