ghost town, haunts me no more. 






LA --> North Africa --> Berlin --> California Living 
Making big big plans, and only slightly afraid, but mostly bursting at the thought of it all. 

 
when I'm feeling it, when I'm down and out.







post-everything depression. am i still "running towards"? who am i kidding i'm not running at all. but i should, and I think if I don't get out of this town soon my head is going to explode. There's not a single thing left for me here. 

 
Glide along the waters edge, I'd fall and skin my knee in the sand and in my defeat resorted to saving the creatures washed ashore. Forget all this foolishness so that we can be friends again this time next year, if we can wait. You looked on and smiled, and how I wished to keep your forever there at the water's edge. This little earth of mine goes round, and round. Scaredy cat don't be afraid the sun'll come out, the sun will find its way, if we can wait, the sun'll find its way. Forgiving rays. We'll stay in the water til our fingers turn blue, just me and you. The salt soaking deep in our skin, the summer's come again and hidden in the waves, we'll find our way, hidden in the waves, we'll find our way. I hope so. 

Count the miles down to the end of the world, leaving behind where we'd once inhabited to an all new and unfamiliar place. I'd watch the sand pile up on the sides of the road like sitting at the bottom of an hourglass, until my intrepid was buried between the dunes and I knew I'd soon be at your door. Those nights spent in perfect bliss, but nothing was ever so wonderful as those long drives home. The early morning, floating along as the sun crept its way over the dunes. Windows down, and I'd sing along to the old jazz standards. Songs about love and let it all pour out. When I'd reach the tunnel, the highway'd drag me back under a city I'd never liked the sight of anyway. Those drives were therapy, in a way. I'd make my way home, to suffer all that space that now existed between the mattress and the ceiling, but now I'd bask in the open air, for at the end of the day, knowing that I was capable of that kind of love was enough.

 
Can you hear the train, francis?


Oh, I can.

Its all coming to a screeching halt and I'd rather jump ship now and end up flat on my back in some unknown pasture than ride this thing straight into that hellhole ahead. But why do I have to be the one to pull the plug, you ask? (Don't I always) Obsessive need for control much? All this time I've been making plans for when it ends, thinking I'd have it all together by then, so it wouldn't matter much, it would just make room for all the plans that demanded it to fall by the wayside anyhow.  This whole record was a big waste of money. Thousands of dollars to never tour on it and just call it quits. Sure its nice to look at, it makes us look like a real band... sure'll mean a whole lot when we don't exist anymore. 


And I want to play shows this summer, and do weekends but what's the point? I've already become disillusioned, does that mean it won't be any worse, it will be realization instead of resentment? La-di-da La-di-da. 

 everything changes




Curled up like this in stillness, drawn in tight like my last breath. Was it I who left? Where does it all go? (wet from head to toe) where did it all go? (sweat from head to toe) That man's been standing there ominous, that man's standing's there all statuesque. where does it all go? Waiting to find out what is left. Where did it all go? Catches my wrist and it hurts, just a bit. wet from head to toe. where did it all go?

 
"Who was there to be mad at? I couldn't get mad at God because I don't believe in God. And you can't get mad at some bacteria, can you?"





Thinking about death. Thinking about life. About DOING SOMETHING. Just feeling sad.

 
Will you skip a stone in your lake for me? 




Now that I've crawled my way out of this skull of mine, the air today is mighty fine! And running had brought relief in so many ways. All this warm weather starts something bubbling inside. Nostalgia's getting the best of me today, but only fond thoughts. (And then a sad moment for a time when I didn't think of you as "old friend") It's all been better. Chicago soundtrack trickling down my veins and open eyes...


Mid-march'd me right out the door.
(this room was only misery, self-loathing, anger, defeat)

 No, let me quietly go on being 
what I perhaps still am,
so that my solitary days may bear me
toward manhood differently 

I still have my first growth of beard,
my tender strength trembles
along my arms' shaft, 
barely broken out in bloom.

I don't know what I will become
nor what I was to be,
I can only replicate the earth's
deep gestures.
I have storm and stillness,
clarity and dusk; 
my will is absorbed in growing
and young...

when winter came you dropped your leaves 

and barren was your soul to see

i thought i was an honest tree

i found i was an evergreen

 

when summer came and brought the breeze

he dressed you up in summer lilies

and how id wished i could be free

but he had made no garment for me  

 

coming down

we'll catch the wind, catch the wind and i'll sing

it's coming down

6:11PM - RE REORGANIZE

reorganize
less TV
more books
more buddhism - (really fell off that horse)
less booze - (how dry i am)
more biking - (its going to be warm soon and i cant wait)
more running - (tell me about it)
less carbs
more paige, rice, and jen   more time with good friends
less d00ds no dudes  
more pop punk  more heavy riffs
less procrastination. - (this will never happen.)

to be a lover.
remember we were one
at least in a photograph
always best in the morning
before the day set in
when the world extended 12 x 10
no one to call, no one to ask

you will follow the one
i will follow everyone

to be a savage.
awaken to nothing real
out on the open road
always best in the morning
before the day set in
the noisy people still asleep
no one to call, no one to ask

you will follow the one
i will follow everyone

oh ill go to bed
i can't make good no more
i can't make good no more
its just not me, never came so easy.
oh even if my hands are always cold
oh even if the stars align
even if thats all there is
i fall in love with morning
i fall in love with the waves
with the beauty in everything
its all the same

morning time, when you want to die if only for just a little while
passing the days contemplating how i've fucked up this time,
my crime, seeking out patterns in the architecture,
arms outstretched, reaching towards an unknown soul
finding only myself, i'm bare(barren), ploughed. the only way to reach me now.

laundry day. when autonomy finally drains me dry,
thrown through the wringer one last time,
this lime's all rind, plerplexity and unwavering unease.
who is free?, all i see is impossiblities
desires left unfilled, i'm ready. deliver me.

and i think to myself (like i'm always thinking) i want everything and two of some of this shit.







find my place in the apehouse. see myself in their eyes. my fingers on their feet. my possessive love somewhere in their embrace. my freedom's limitations in their swinging and hollering. i'm singing. i'm hollering. i'm singing. i'm hollering. i'm always bothering.

But now I had been beaten into the semblance of some kind of humility by misery and confusion and perplexity and secret, interior fear, and my ploughed soul was better ground for the reception of good seed.

I know I'm worse. I know it hurts worse for you. I know I have no right to say anything. I know you are doing it to show me. (But I know you really do care). So even if you say you want out, that it's not going to work out, I know it's all just talk. I know it'll probably go somewhere, and I'll stay the same. It just wasn't meant to be.



I'll still bitch, and complain, and stew over it like tough dry beef chewing away, chewing away. I'll swallow it down and never speak a word of it. And wish I hadn't let the few slip after all those drinks. He read it all over my face, and he was right in some ways. Except I have nothing to prove and everything to lose. (And I won't lose.)

I've only ever loved myself
But I've loved myself so well.








I've lost track, but I'm running again. I'll feel again soon.

don't they just look so cute. you fell in love the second you saw them. and boy that one sure stood out among the rest. you couldn't believe you hadn't noticed it earlier. there were so many trees but that one made you remember what it felt like to breath, and you can't wait to feel it again. (and soon, and how)

I remember looking into his eyes and thinking how nice he'd look if only they were blue. Dark hair light eyes, its what you always wanted wasn't it. You look so good together and you're happy. If only there weren't those black holes. You just can't stay away.





Tomorrow I'm going to see Make Believe. I'm going to hand Tim Kinsella a copy of his CD and say thanks. Its too good to be true and I won't be surprised if getting there is worse than hell.

Must it always be a fight?


Can't we just say alright, alright, alright, alright.








Communication is getting exhausting. I'm leaning on this broken fence.