ALMOST COMPLETELY LOST

So who was surprised?

The answer was undiluted truth.

"I was running scared.
I had eight months to stay selfish;
after that I had to teach someone how to live.
How to do all the things I lack the courage to do.
How to cope with disappointment,
how to deal with people.
I couldn't look inside because
I can't stand myself;
I could only search the things
I could empty into me.

It's not resentful,
it's nothing personal."

This is a message to let you know that this one isn't dead and I am hoping to have new things to share soon. I am looking forward to Meg and I going to Colorado as I will get the chance to recharge far away from everything.

Maybe I'll find a bit more of myself. Although if I were to, I'd be worried; because I think I have a good handle on myself.

do a shot

No.

do a shot

No.

do a shot

No, seriousl

hve a beer

N

hve something

Well

hve something (hve nothing)

I guess, I don't know though

hve this

Maybe you shouldn't shove stuff in my face

drink this

No, that's okay

run into a wall, but hve this too

I know me too well

face it youll hve what i fucking want to gve you
n youll like it
youll like it

I'll have it

I won't like it

Today maybe but not tomorrow

Not waking up again

ill shove it down yr sorry

Oh, I am sorry

I am sor

's cold, cold, cold.
's gonna get colder still;
's gonna frost yr insides right out,
's gonna make you eat yrself.

's a war out there,
millions of starving out there,
're people making beds of branches and boards,
but not quite here.

when what's left of us lays down
's it what's out there
or 's it what's here

i am not going to complain anymore.

i'm not.

i'm through with complaining
we're done
i left her reeling
i'm through with complaining
procrastinating

rinse repeat rinse repeat

repeat repeat repeat

oh the answer now
it's a little off-feeling now
i've got standards
they're not mine now

haven't ever held this jigsaw
but i think this is how it fits

repeat repeat repeat

i'm through with complaining and
we're done

i'm through with complaining,
procrastinating,
we're done
done
we're done, we're done
done.

done in
tossed out
carried up
passed over
buried under
eaten into
exhaled from
breathed deep
begun again.

give up to begin again.

years have passed
years of history
years of revolution and evolution
and we're strapped in;
and we aren't being shot up
the ground isn't falling out from under us
we're not being hurtled down hills
we're stuck on this ferris wheel.

everybody still hears the words of the man that wears the most gold.
emulate and obey.
replace chariots with maybe a benz,
maybe an escalade.
sit back and observe the pieces, watch them
feel around for a place.
red is the new blue and blue's just the same
and they're both just the same
and everything is the same as it ever has been.

it doesn't stop, though we think it does.
we're programmed to revolt,
and the result is a new shirt.
why,
why,
why,
do we give the gifts?

I AM DONE FUCKING AROUND
YOU'LL LISTEN REAL GOOD NOW

THIS IS
THE LAST TIME
THAT I'LL BE
S L  I   N    G     I      N       G
this SLEDGEHAMMER AT YOUR MOUTH
WHIMPER AGAIN

THE WORST PAIN
YOU'LL EVER KNOW
isn't this impact
it's blinking
noticing a breeze tugging past
peeling your skin to wrest yourself up

not a damn thing changes with you
NOT A DAMN THING CHANGES WITHOUT YOU




note: PLEASE do not read anything into this one. not that you really can.

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME

Hello.

I normally just post works in here, but I'm going to take the opportunity to talk about status:

+ My creative output has SUCKED as of late, and for that I'm terribly sorry. It's hard to motivate myself but I think I'm getting better.

+ Quality has also been lacking; I haven't GROWN much either. That's a consequence of writing less. But the stuff I'm turning out now is at least haflway decent, unlike when I started this.

+ I changed my layout. I can't really be bothered to make my own. Plainness suits this better anyway.

+ I'm planning on adding an icon soon.

+ I would also REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY like to perform these works soon. But soon in that respect is different from a normal soon. we're looking at a month or two out at least. I need to actually memorize a few of these to do that. I feel empty without being in front of others, though, so I'm going to try to find a friendly open mic or something. IF YOU KNOW OF ONE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LET ME KNOW.

also I dug up a bunch of my WAY older stuff from my class a few years ago. these are from early 2004.

I normally don't LJ cut actual WORK but it's not new so I don't have a problem with it. please read it though. And make other people read it too!

:D

-g

( 2004 works )

i want to make things that collide in sparks

i want to make things that interrupt your regularly scheduled blinking

i want to make things only i can provide

i want to make things where i say "i" less but i don't believe that'll ever really happen

i want to make things to pull out your pain like a magnet

i want to make things to rinse it clean

i want to make things that make people want to make things

i want to make things that make you drop what you're doing

i want to make things that bring your day to a halt

i want to make things that stick around

i want to make things that hibernate in your brain until you're commuting a number of mornings later and burst forth and command your thoughts once more

i want to make things that halt traffic of all kinds

i want to make things that stop your breath in your throat

i want to make things that no one can ever interrupt

i want to make things that i like but that the people that make other things that i like would also like

i want to make things to light that last bulb in your head

i want to make things that force you to stave off sleep a few more minutes

i want to make things for you.

this is possibly a work in progress, i need to let it sit for a few days before i decide to change something about it or not.


the sky cracked
and it was a blinding day
but through attempts to wrest myself
restrained myself
under duress
myself
the villains i had loosed,
myself,
would cut the space -
seperation
slice the space into strips and discard it
the time and space that it would take to place
their wispy palms
at the forefront
straight ahead of my brain --

I knew it wasn't real
  couldn't be real
    there was no fucking way
      that this creation was real

BUT I COULD FEEL

everything they ever were,
those villains i had loosed,
myself,
through the fingers caging me

to exorcise your demons isn't always a great plan
when the warden
blinks
when the warden
glances out
the warden
stops to breathe what passes for gasps
its onemoresecond
that the outlaws run the prison

for how long
will the parolees be harassing me
what does it take to bar tenacity
my thoughtblock is thwacking its cracked walls
and my head is being dribbled by an expert like Kobe

desire to lie when someone asks why I can't sleep
upside of 40 years and battles I won
and places I crisped
and the people I ended defeat ME

crushed not by the weight of their expulsion
more finding the villain who wasn't
he was not made by my country
my superiors
he was not made by my beliefs or
my convictions



the sky cracked for the blinding day

the deep red
a sea of furious,
pointless,
wrongfully punctuated red
cracked for the face of the villain that wasn't

a life i made -
a life ended to me
a life that refused to be
the things
anything
that we both hate --

THE ONLY ONE STILL BREATHING
PERSISTING

he will not let himself sin as i have
he will not let himself become me

and if its what it takes
my head keeps bouncing
and i end with my exhausted, dry eyes opennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

i just recovered one of my all-time favorites:

arraignment of a scene

there are a good hundred cds on my shelf
(there SHOULD be more but only lately
have i been earning wages)

and i've stolen so many more
(well copyright infringment isn't
really theft but let's forget details)

of these EVERY ONE has a story of heartbreak
condemning a faceless destroyer of love -
it's always the girl
ALWAYS
ALWAYS THE GIRL
and more girls subscribe to a subculture that
WANTS THEM DEAD
in their lyrics
oh but they want them spending
at the merch table
(have to feed yourself on tour!)
i sought these tunes because i could relate
and days come where i still peruse the catalog
of backlogged thoughts of rusty spoons
and a delicacy of retina and cornea
(mister conley the master chef eternally)

but i could never understand how EVERYONE i sang about
EVERYONE i sang along about
bobbed my head about
grabbed a mic and shouted wishes
of crashing planes and cars
and careening trains and boats
and disasters natural and otherwise
about

well i would run into them at the show!
we could reminisce in the lobby
just to have it out in front of the stage.

fingerprints on a drawing that can't be erased
this deep-rooted division of what should be a space
with a trodden mat with mud from undersides
some of it wet
laying on caked dry
none of it ever chipping away
"because when you've been to one show you're in the family to stay"

that was the idea? the plan all along?
that whoever wanted could write their own songs
i still love that people who pump fists with me
climb up on stage after the band we all love.

'the problem with brotherhood is the brother'
well the brother is writing of someone, yes?
when their subjects write they're not concerned with defense
or with repainting their stained name
and it's probably the high road
but a little dirt never hurt anyone.

it's music not a cross-examination,
and if it is i'm pleading for equal time.
right now the club is burning my membership and blacking my name from the minutes...
but i assure you that these are the things that need to be said -
the arraignment of a scene from the inside.
i'm not the only one;
you should meet me halfway.

start to end

beginning to finish

the middle doesn't matter

point a to point b

where the hell is point c?

in the middle

that doesn't make any sense

hey where's the cream filling

that's the best part

breathe in

breathe in and know you're breathing in

you think that's air you're breathing now

know you're breathing in

bring your mind to the party and understand every little aspect of what you're doing

beyond just the breathing

the way your skin shudders and your ribcage falls

the way a tiny bit of tears shatter as your eyelids crash and they fall out as you see again

the exact time before the breeze falls over your bottom lip and spills back into a dry sea

STOP AND BREATHE IN AND BREATHE DEEP

stop and recollect.

stop.

just stop.

stop plunging yourself forward.

give up on progress.

get used to yourself.

fall in love with the world,

right from where you're sitting.

stop.

give up.

it's over.






done.

been feeling awful
cold.
these.
days.

snow's falling now.

it's as if we
missed.
fall.
days.

there wasn't time to breathe.

there isn't time to be
alive.
these.
days.

i'm rubbing my thighs to keep warm.

we're getting to a point where we might want to
lie.
these.
days.

disclaimers sorry after every sentence.

i'm writing notes to remind myself
because my eyes start to burn when i forget to
blink.
these.
days.

worrying is the order of things.

worrying that i'm not living up to
me.
these.
days.

sometimes you have to get what you're feeling down right away.

sometimes you have to clean yourself out,

write something obviously bad

like this

to get to a point where you can say something
meaningful

something
real.
these.
days.

[i'm not sure if i consider this complete. i think it could use a bit more work. but i've been pushing the idea around for a bit now. trying to get to know the kind of person that would be like this.]

You see,

Well, you don't see
Of course that's just a figure of speech
I'm making sure that you understand what it is I'm saying
Speaking
Delivering

Any which way
A guy I grew up with
I used to know

Wasn't always a guy
But a boy
A peculiar boy
There was something funny about that boy

Asked me over a couple of times
And we were still young
But it was always uncomfortable
Over there

The grown ones
the grown ups
Wailing and screaming
And chucking everything

Hurling these shopping trips
Maxed out credit cards

A plate, when thrown hard enough,
Can put a hole in your wall

Their debt would increase for repairing their anger
Contractors for the house
...Other kinds for their minds

They'd lose the house someday

- but the story isn't about them

This peculiar boy
Probably didn't start so peculiar

But these thirtysevenyearold children
Invoked his title
And wore it as a crown of thorns

because HE didn't like them
HE liked me best

and HE threw up last time you yelled at HIM
and HE always cried when you were late to pick HIM up
and you yelled at HIM last time HE cleaned his ears
(that was a weird one)
and so he was always to blame.
he was to blame for the end of these children he was helping to grow up that were raising HIM.

ran into him after we had both come of age

he was in town
and he looked a bit ragged
and HE had been around
been running around the world
and the block
and he'd stopped
just about everywhere
and got to know everyone -
woman and man -
just a bit better.

he had nearly finished his coffee
he excused himself to the toilet
and HE dropped this little volume behind

notes of every visitor to HIS temple
what they had taken
what they had left
where it had come from
and where it could be found

Q TIP
MAY 21ST
LEFT AND RIGHT

JOANNA
JULY 8TH
ON FACE/BREASTS/SHEETS

CHASE
OCTOBER 13/14/15
EVERYWHERE IT FIT
EVERYWHERE HIS FIT TOO

i dropped the book after that
i noticed he hadn't used his butter knife yet
i slid it between the cover and the steel table and i dropped it near his plate where it had started

and HE came back and i was red
my jaw clenched
and he asked me what was wrong

then HE asked me what was wrong

and you know what it's like to feel so trapped

so i asked why

and i probably shouldn't have
it's incredibly rude as an admission of guilt and of questioning something so randomly personal
but i did it anyway

i asked why

"so that when people start dying they can find this
they can figure out where and who and how
and so they can wonder why"

i excused myself

TOILET, COFFEEHOUSE
TODAY, NOW
THE CONTENTS OF MY INSIDES

so many empty songs of screaming
and bleating
and hours and hours of chestbeating

and this is where we get to again;

i forgot how to be angry and i'm learning again.

easy living

sick of staring in taillights
and sick of introspection.

everything i write these days seems to be about me.

where do i go from here
cos we agreed to burn the map
and flush the ashes
at a rest stop
three-fourths on the way to who knows where

we don't know where

i could ask anyone i look up to
anyone i've ever thought of
people i see and people i don't
and can anyone tell me where

where i need to go now

i need to be there now.

theres the rock
theres something harder
theres nothing forward
theres nothing i cant soak up
throw me
tear me
rip me
crush me
wring me
but ill soak up everything that makes you sad









at least thats what i want out of life

So, I'm gonna cheat for my first content post here:

I kept a small notebook with me all the time right around the time I met Meg, and some stuff ended up in it, so I'll just put that here now. Some of it made it to LJ but I changed some stuff, these are the raw unfiltered versions.

I think I'm gonna carry the notebook again.

---

iPod - part I

the tones of my friends in my ears
are louder and clearer than they could be

even if they were here now.

and everyone walking past is
completely distant
which is sooooo odd.

we all know each other.

untitled, 9/9/04

my head feels completely stuffed
and my face is on fire
and if i keeled over and died
it couldn't be any kind of surprise.
agh.

a primer for attracting companions

such simple methods to an evening.

checklist.

take her out and use everything they've taught you.

if you do it by the book she'll stay outside
and criticise your lack of curtains

from instructions and diagrams
you really want everything not inked
that's where the fabric is to clothe
those of us deserving of air
and time
and chances
and clances
and forgotten glasses.

tradition's definitions are to be
amputated
from romance today.

coffee - part II

leaves are falling
leaves are falling on me

-i love work i love success is there ringing
sing it cexboy sing it-

i'm sipping fruits of free trade
the fruits of free trade which bruise
people just lke me

i'm bruising people just like me

justification of flavor and CONVENIENCE.

why can't it be convenient to help and not hurt?

untitled, 9/23/04

OMIGOD IT IS ALL OVER
DID YOU HEAR IT ON NBC?
CBS?
CNN?
DID YOU HEAR THAT BECAUSE ALL THE POLLS ARE EVEN, WE ARE GOING TO LOSE?
A POLL OF FIVE HUNDRED IS A SURE INDICATION
AND ITS BEEN HANDED DOWN THROUGH THE CHANNELS
THE MAJORITY WILL LOSE THIS ELECTION

-an election with numbers in the millions

this collective cerebellum cannot function
cannot function
with the mass misniformation
gathered from such a few.
we're gonna stumble if we don't pull up our gaiters
to wade through all their shit.

untitled, 9/30/04

girls like this aren't real
or at least not to me
i'm so afraid that on saturday
there'll be nothing but air
i'm so afraid that if there isn't
i could fall in love again
it's silly to think like this already
but she's remarkable already.

untitled, 10/4/04

i'll sketch thousands of your faces
on the backsides of my eyelids
and the next time i'm alone
traffic jammed on the way home
i can still poke fun
at all your expressions.

untitled, 10/8/04

This is fucked
like every spoiled fruit
like every dented door
like a tree put through a house
from a gust of wind for no real reason

i'm all for her,
completely lost in her
and it's the thread of dreams
but sometimes the kind you wake from,
screaming.

i need to share the world with you
but its such an awful place

untitled, 10/10/04

awake
just barely conscious
picking myself -
no
dusting myself off
and picking imperfections off my face.

can't discard apathy.
can't run from the fact that my
greatest ability
is the ability to do
NOTHING.

So unsure of what's becoming of me.