so quotable

To myself, whom it may concern

wow, slept for a day and a half. the world is certainly not disappointing. i am glad to know that when the past walks by the future just shrugs a shoulder. cheers to reciprocity, understanding when the pier is warped from sea water and it's better just to stand and look. trust me, i am warily telling you the truth because i trust you and i know you can help me realize i am just as fucked up as everybody else. martyrdom is so eccelstial, so i am trying to not be such a cynical wallflower and get out there and be a cynical date, or whatever. i dont care about entertaining the masses, i just want a smaller audience. evelate my language, use the references we make. it will take time. this month is almost over and maybe my crippling lethargy will leave as well. that would be nice. as always, thanks for the beer and the commisery and the future pizza coupon.

so this morning i was thinking about the best thing billy corgan ever said, "im in love with my sadness". talk about co-dependency. that sounds amazing, love something that you create and cling to while deferring things that may destroy this misery. sounds like the depression that made me breakfast as a child. and then, amy winehouse starts playing. shaping up to be an amazing day. back to black, as if it would ever leave.

cheers

In Between Days, you and me both

Dorian,

I was reading a book of short stories today and the strangest thing happened. The writing style reminded me of someone familiar. The desire to achieve something has started killing things inside me. I laid in bed for 4 hours today after strange dreams with the past and present orgasm. I dont know why I let my mind paralyze and influence the body. I was underwater most of the day, and yet I come home to a painkiller and PBR. I really want to be there with people scattered about this country and mindset like the ashes of an unknown loved one. The magnetism of shared others work like ions on the psyche. Attraction and repulsion baby, back and forth. The idea of looking forward to keep from falling backward. I feel like the best thing you can give yourself is yourself, but we leave ourselves behind, for better or for worse. I wanted to see you and talk about everything except what is bothering you. I dont think I am that to you though. Comic relief and mortification, whatever you need. You need time and quiet and sorting and cigarettes. Dualism is overrated and convictions are for criminals. The eternal quest for the one line that will save us all from the self inflicted and the self effacing. Maybe one day we will find it.

Weird, but appropriate. The Cure's In Between Days

The Pixies - UK Surf

St. Anthony,
You once told me, or we agreed, that the ennui was underwhelming. I am having such a hard time going to work, staying at work. I am tired in a way that has nothing to do with empiricism. When Sam told me I was #1 at saying things that make people uncomfortable, I would gladly give up that title. I have lost the part of myself that cares about what people think, in general, or about me, which I find insignificant on too many levels. Please, fucking impress me. Entertain me. Say something that is mildly true, engaging or hilarifying. Be more like the id, which is why they love him, or the pathological liar, which is why she is fun at parties. Or be genuine, which might startle people into good behavior. I agree that much is made of "super sized" personas, the desire for rehab from the ordinary, polyamorously perverse. I think earnest goodwill should be the new gossip mill fodder. But until that day comes, I will entertain myself by not respecting the notion of propriety. By allowing my affection for those I am surrounded by to dictate the foulness I will load into a cannon of emotional shrapnel and cheap shots. Highbrow is for the supercilious. I will take a double entendre, no chaser.

A small intermission from my usual literary inclinations, I hate work. I hate parties with a bunch of under age kids who think Hawaiian Punch is a chaser. I hate people who also hate these things but cant stand being alone and would rather sit and guttersnipe than do something else, or go home. I hate insincerity and people who are not good humored or goodnatured.

I know I am a douche bag. Tell me something that would surprise me or that would at least show an ounce of perception.

The Modern Day Pagliacci

Lit by lightning

Jude,

I was leaving my house a few days ago and was looking at the detritus that is mine. The Polaroids, news clippings, various entertainment vehicles. This is your life. This is me. Something you said struck me. How I act after reading yesterday's newspaper. You nailed me. Some of the most obvious things for other people just hit me, violently, years later. Instead of feeling like I was the last to know, I feel grateful that it is better than late than forgotten. Thanks for that.

I have been writing alot lately. Finding things, arranging them. I feel like a Rilke quote in Letters to a Young Poet. Being a writer, sometimes it isnt an option. It is a proclivity, sickness, all consuming need to tell a story, get it down, get it right, all the time. Napkins, notebooks, scraps with one liners and fortunes. So I am not really sure if I am a writer or just an arranger of the mundane and extraordinary.

Why the hell is middle America so obsessed with crime dramas? Follow up: strange furry sex fetishists on CSI? We could put cameras in L.A. public schools or in Iraq? Entertainment ...

Martin Amis on Charlie Rose, also Norman Mailer

destined for greatness

The paralysis of a small town celebrity. The places we go at work. I'm eating oatmeal and drinking tea out of a Hallmark mug. It's raining outside and the drip has reached a spot in the center of the kitchen. It is here I realize that I think about suicide alot. The idea of finality and self assurance. The idea of time eroding your ideals and paying bills. Catching up, ebb and flow. The past is no longer a promise.

Change requires work, forward momentum. Bring me your emotionally needy, arrogant and fabricators. Those lacking self control, esteem and a PG audience. I need a voice on the other end who knows the situation and the spin. A friend tax in the personality economy. The idea of being a relationship contractor, getting certified, being accountable. Building structure and artifice, facade comes up, alot.

Work induced narcolepsy and contagious apathy. A refuge from created disasters. Social programs, invasive personal questions, verbatim unbiased research. Wish you were here.

The eternal quest for something to talk about, boredom alleviation, ego massage. Reinforcing bad behavior and repeated punchlines. A conquered universe in a disparate world of war and commerce.

So that is what I do at work. I kept thinking about you last night at a movie. The past and change and everything going wrong and how to come back.

a few days in

so the new year has started.  morphine induced nightmares and far too much time to reflect have left me in a strange place.  thinking about god with a head full of scotch and knack for disappointment.  a mix tape and the attraction of assholes and other such unapproachable sorts.  falling for all the wrong ones for the right reasons.  the act of standing up for falling down.  deep interpersonal relationships and the single acts that are the glue to a bigger picture humanity that gets lost in the day to day.  just something to talk about.  

yeah, you, too.

So Saint Jude the Apostle, a common theme in my life for sure. I was thinking about you and how much you would roll your eyes and slap the table for this one. What is it about being justified in being a dick? Sometimes when I read things people post, like an album that came out two years ago being "relevant" I picture us both laughing rudely and making halp internetz validates my culture jokes. Being here amongst art and artists makes me want to go Bret Easton Ellis narration and set people on fire while their words assault them physically and gastircally. Get the fuck over yourself New York (ers) Christ, all you kids who want to fuck poets who moonlight as bartenders and docents who moonlight as investment bankers, this is your life. Download MOMA, put it in your I-Pod and just look at it when you are bored. Dont fucking go to the muesuem, bitch about everything and move like chattle to the hopefully all toon slaughter. Dont forget your postcard and your cute myspace photo in front of the "art". The apple store is down the street. I wish I would have been really gross and thrown up on the Manhattan bound subway. Then you could have been part of the art.

New Year's -- Brooklyn, Twin Peaks DVD, trendy i-pod mix, mussels, truffles, foie gras and pretension. Also it snowed.

I hate big cities and I miss you. I wish we were kicking it in a once grand location, where tourists never come and locals never leave. But leave the sweet tea.
New Years