Don’t know how I feel right now. Relieved, in a way. But also sad. Still, it’s best to have things out and now eventually they can be well again.
On a separate note, it’s always fun to see all of the red ink that editors have left for you. Growl. Don’t ever do this, but I will now because just today it feels like a photo is in order. Aron the writer/artist, after weeks of grunge music and cheap booze:
If you think this is lookin’ shaggy, you should see the jeans I’m wearing. I feel almost seventeen again.
So anyway, that’s how it is, on both counts. Add a little hollow to your day.
The song of the year once again is… Interstate Love Song. Can’t think of a single set of chords I’ve played more over the years. Everybody sing along now.
leavin on a southern train
only yesterday you you lied
promises of what i seemed to be
only watched the time go by
all of these things you said to me
breathing is the hardest thing to do
with all i’ve said and all that’s dead for you…
Where are you, ah gong? I am once again unsure of myself, alone and not understanding how it is all supposed to work… surely you know… what I am looking for now?
I’m too broke to medicate me. I suppose that’s a good thing…
Well, I’ve finally taken action and now I’m so unhappy it’s almost crippling. Life hurts.
So the Bush administration’s plan is to occupy Baghdad militarily for an indefinite period of time. The stupidity is breathtaking. Obviously, Americans hunger for a thousandfold increase in terrorist activity.
Or is it simply a backhanded genocide plan? Occupy Baghdad, anger the entire Arab world to the boiling point, then as terrorist attacks increase, use them as an excuse to ethnically cleanse the entire east of all those God damn heathen bearded darkies… Maybe we happen to “accidentally” nuke China and the communogooks while we’re at it? After all, they’re sort of close to Afghanistan and all that lot. They’re probably terrorists, too. Boom, boom, boom, and suddenly it’s brand new free land for white folks over half the globe.
I wouldn’t put it past ’em.
At some point, you begin to tire… You’ve been on this treadmill for decades and you don’t know what the aim is, where it’s going — you’ve never known, it’s always just been there to wear you out and tear you down.
You’re just waiting, trying to hang on for someday, which inevitably comes, when you’ll have… peace. When you’ll no longer spend your time looking in vain for something to look forward to or something to destroy.
What did I not learn?
The fan is on and I am cold. Apparently the summer season has ended or has at least nearly ended. Time keeps moving, moving, and I cannot stop it; I watch the clocks but I cannot stop it. And soon I will be gone, along with everyone else.
History… is where all the souls have gone.
Hey Brandy, Brandy Maxwell, the one from Salt Lake City who attended Taylorsville Elementary, Carlos Andra would love to hear your voice again…
And if you’re out there and you wanna hear his, say hello and I can hook you up.
Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather
whiplash girlchild in the dark
comes in bells, your servant, don’t forsake him
strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart
Downy sins of streetlight fancies
chase the costumes she shall wear
ermine furs adorn, imperious
Severin… Severin awaits you there.
I am tired, I am weary
I could sleep for a thousand years
a thousand dreams that would awake me
different colors made of tears
Kiss the boot of shiny, shiny leather
shiny leather in the dark
tongue of thongs, the belt that does await me
strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart.
Another avenue of possibility proves useless to me. I really have made my bed, haven’t I? Is it too late to have the last decade back, to do it over again? I suppose it must be.
The Right has a great deal to answer for. Devout people have a great deal to answer for. “God” and “America” both have a great deal to answer for. It is time to smash them both. Children should be beyond nationality and beyond petty, selfish morality — raised in the humanist tradition, to respect one another, history, the environment, work of all kinds, and most of all, themselves and their own human natures.
Some days I say things like this as some sort of exercise in polemics, at least superficially… But then there are days like today, when I feel it, when I feel it at the core of who I am. “God” does not make people happy; “God” makes some people numb and others maladjusted and hateful. America no longer contributes anything of value to the world, if it ever did at all (consider, if you will, slavery in the balance, among other things). Instead, America pollutes, exploits, and makes war endlessly, lowering the standards of living and the levels of happiness for people beyond its borders everywhere.
I have grown very tired of August 2002. Very tired indeed. I am hungry for my advance check so that I can send these applications, so that, in turn, I will have something to look forward to.
There are some days when I believe myself to be very good at organ damage.
God I’m happy. I feel good. Very good. There’s a vibe in having made a decision that really gets you feeling right. Plus, I saw that same cute little Hugh Grant film again tonight, and I totally identify with it. That’s a good vibe, too. I am cool, cool, cool, and optimistic about the future. Life is as short as ever and that’s good, too. I feel like taking some serious risks.
And my art is going well, too.
Remember Screaming Trees? Temple of the Dog? Mad Season? These are my youth, these are the sounds that bring me back home again. It’s good, it’s all good.
And of course, death to all those who have ever beaten me.
Shame I won’t feel this good when I wake up (work to do, even on a Sunday) but right now I’m cool. Alone and without immediate things to do, but very cool nonetheless. Too bad there’s nobody around to share the vibe with. But that’s life.
Went Glendaling. Had a couple of drinks from a $3.00 bottle and then went running the tracks behind the Rage. Met up with Hoover & the Felon at the Glendale friday-afternoon football game. Nicer folks you will never, ever meet. The Felon was giving me the lowdown on the latest string of bike thefts which have afflicted him and Hoover was swimming around in the canal.
It all reminds me of what I once learned in high school but maybe forgot: the people of my neighborhood (Carlos, this means you too) are and always will be better friends to me than any of those other “friends” I’ve met anywhere since who couldn’t really give any less of a fsck when push comes to shove. When you come from a poor neighborhood you’re all kind of in the same shit together and you never have to worry about anyone else too much, because you all know you’re as regular as each other.
All in all, a refreshing change of pace that was way, way overdue.
Side effect: now I feel like burning a few bridges. But I think I am wise enough to refrain, at least for the moment. Still… truly cool folks have a way of calling pretenders out without even having to try.
Out the door. Funny how one can change feeling this way and that… The world would seem a safer place if feelings were permanent, immutable. But the world is not safe…
Carlos is the very definition of “good friend.”
Aaaaaaaaaugh! This technical writing environment… Freelance tech writing… Makes you crazy, absolutely crazy. It’s just you locked in a room with a computer for hours and hours and hours, with nobody else around and no end in sight!
I will never do this again. I’ve said that before. I’ve said that maybe fifty times since I started this one. But this has got to stop. It’s a million miles to October right now. I don’t know if I can live without human interaction until then. What a sterile, tense, lonely pressure cooker!
It’s a bittersweet feeling waking up after dreaming about someone special that you’d forgotten you love because they are beyond your reach… I so wish I didn’t feel things the way I do. Life kills me.
Well I’m awake now. Back to work once again.
And I have to hook back up with the kids at the department once again to see if we can get me a graduate school going on for next fall. Things have changed; at the end of our last episode, linguistics and languages were the order of the day. This episode, the humanities are back with a vengeance and journalism is hiding in the shadows.
I just looked again at the proof print I made last night. It is still beautiful. I am rather stunned. There are three people in my life who need to get my first three prints from the new project. I love all of them, in different ways. I suppose I love everyone alive, in some odd way… though I don’t quite know if I can explain that just now.