stumble then rise.

okay.


iwasamiracle

i could love you so exquisitely.

bye now.
i'm going away for a while.

this is most likely done with.
i will be starting new projects in time, they may or may not be easy to find.

take care.

no regrets

waking up hungover on some yellow couch,
in an apartment way up on Allston street.
for breakfast, pouring the ends of last night's vodka into some gas station orange juice.
sitting around smoking cigarettes while my friends go commit credit card fraud.
picking up some candy and soda at the corner store.
making lists of all the drugs i did the night before,
one, two, three, four.
i'm not much of a poet,
but i've got teeth like you would not believe.

feeling the flowers of your life in someone else's body.
taking the time to let the water completely drown out your insides.
we are coming home to a house filled with the scent of stale bread and what once was love.
what memory in the cupped hands of forgiveness.
saying i'm sorry you feel this way now because what you felt then was what was keeping me alive.

time is not here.
so so so gone beneath the pavement that turned in sinking sands in a city and my mouth is full of bugs
and i keep swallowing
keep pushing around my gums waiting to swallow another insect
im on six hits of acid
and im in love with someone.



my hands become forests and one of these days i'll let you know what it's like to be this far away.
on top of it all, but every mountaintop is just a remember of what i left behind. i look over the world and into the sky which i go swimming in every night. come get down.


i feel my teeth turn into rusty rail-road tracks. i feel my teeth turn into chalks. then on the sand. into the sand my teeth turn to rust.

all of it coming back home to you. to march and texas and red red everywhere.
the world goes to tilt and shake.
everything turns into rainbow.
i am cat's paw, i am one thousand square windows.


i'll stay if you'll stay.

james is here. passed out.
he just woke up.

we told him we burnt the house down.
and he went right back to sleep.

song just fast forwarded itself.
life just fast forwarded itself.

SO I DONT HAVE A CURTAIN NOW
OH WAIT SORRY THAT WAS PROBABLY MY FAULT
WHAT TIME IS IT
IT IS LIKE TEN
WHAT TIME DID YOU GO TO BED
YEAH

got nineteen hours to go in some big airport with no money and just some grocery store caramels.
today we watched men catch the biggest fish i've ever seen in some unsuspecting lake and for the first time in a long time i saw the way leaves blow in the wind and just how green they are.

update:
1.
as it gets later there are more flowers. the men in love get a little more anxious.

i'm at kennedy airport on the internet waiting to go to texas.
drinking really hot coffee that is burning my tongue and re-reading kafka on the shore.
i've bitten my fingernails off in anticipation and i could use a beer.
that is all.

Right there,
that’s where people go to die.
Right over there, beyond those woods with the biggest trees your eyes can see, just above those clouds that speak too soon.
I remember the funeral of your mother,
I can still see the flowers leaned against the raven black coffin,
looking bored like a young man leaning against the brick building in an apartment building in the “okay” part of town waiting for his day to come along.
I remember the dress you wore, and if it was a time for compliments I would have given you some and you would have hated me for it and not slept with me that night.
My suit felt nice, and crisp as a leave in autumn, I am not use to getting so dressed up.
You helped me put on my tie, wrapping it around my neck, and I fell in love with you again.
Afterwards I sipped the burnt coffee in a white styrofoam cup, and it tasted wonderful.
I could not wait to go home and fall asleep next to you, I got so tired all of a sudden.
I like funerals, they open your eyes wide and let your senses roar
like a big yellow lion.

This could be the last entry in this journal.
I need to start over.
Bye.



I got a hair cut!



MOST IMPORTANTLY
NEXT WEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG
feels like this.



Also a million pictures of myself just because.


( endings. )

hollywood.


There was something about her face. She had the kind of face that could not be found, or denied. The face that looked horrible in picture and could never be found.Yet every time I saw her I was searching for something, in her face. I would touch it, trying to grab it and pull it right out, just to examine it, yes i'll put everything back where it was when i'm done. But it could not be found, at least I could not find it, I guess that's what beauty is, something you can see but you can't find.

( Also I wrote a sonnet for one of my classes, you should probably tell me what you think and let me know if it's as bad as I think it is, criticism is needed. )

i'm on top of it all.
this journal will be gone soon.

something like this,

this is learning to say hello and goodbye at the same time. this is just another shaky attempt to find love.

I woke up one day unaware at what had happened to my body, more importantly the way my body had determined what would happen with my life. The sadness was always there, just hanging around the corner, always. But there was joy too, hidden in dirt, and those old houses where we found each other, and lost each other, again and then again. It wasn’t getting old, not yet. It was getting old and young and old and falling in love too many times in the same week, month, year. I fell in love every day, I guess I was just good at it. I would just tell myself, simply, openly. This is me, this is what I do.

The drink took away what the love could not. The drink made it all grey, hollow, blood in between the teeth. At night it got worse but it was always better. There underneath the lights, we tried to decide just what it was we were going to do with our lives. And then there was you, and the joy, silent, open. Some memory, lost and found.

The stillness in my life at the time was profound. It was neither wanted nor shunned. The weight of the air becomes heavy. My body tapped in spider webs. And I still got it all.

Sleeping in so many beds. So many walls. Just trying to get back to you. Every little thing. Just to get back to you.

One more day, just like it was , in the beginning.

My love for you was all in the fact that you were happy. It was something so lost, new. It was a stranger I wanted to know. And you took the time to show me. You took my hand, with a smile. And you were happy. And when you were happy, I was happy. That was my love for you, rotten perfect fucking enamel.

Sitting here now. I still protest. No one has got this. I can move mountaintops with the tip of my fingers. I could crush countries with a lick of my lips. With nothing to lose and nothing to gain. The only thing I couldn’t hurt was myself. And I hurt a lot of people.

To be continued.

( This is what life has felt like lately. )

i'm on top of my game.
that i will always lose.

a shipwreck

there is no time left to let the ocean come over us and fill our lungs.
memories of the beach.
at night, in the summer.
taste of salt in the mouth like some distant lover.
your letters always on my bed.
walking through the water.
your love with my love a long time into the movie.
trying to find out if this is the second chance we've been waiting for.
send all the bottles we drink, out to sea.
all the bottles we drink, out to sea.
saying goodbye.
to all this memory.

dark days in cold places.
just waiting for,
sunlight,
and the water to freeze.

I woke up in mission hill.I had fallen asleep on the left side of the bed. The sun made it hard to see and my head was full of lead. When I finally opened my eyes I could see the tops of those buildings that reach up into the air.

I don’t remember blacking out. The last thing I remember is sitting in a wicker chair on the porch and realizing the cigarettes that I had just bought at store 24 were gone. I wake up later in some boy’s bed. I realize I have no idea how I got into bed. The boy is practically naked minus some tiny designer gym shorts. I still have all my clothes on but he is pressing my body against his naked back. I can feel the warmth and I’m too drunk to not stay near it.

Isn’t all we do trying to find a way to get close to something warm and soft and safe? My friend told me once that the reason we have sex is that we're just trying to return to the feeling of being in the womb. We're born in this soft warm place and we spend our whole lives doing pointless things when all we are really trying to do is get back to where we began.

Memory fades.

The next thing I remember he is trying to put his hand down my boxers. I squirm and say no. He starts apologizing and I say I understand. I understand because I am drunk and I do bad things when I am drunk. Everyone does. He pulls my body against his again. Again the warmth and then again memory fades. Then consciousness, the hands down the pants again. I say no again and he apologizes again. How pathetic. I explain in rambles that it’s okay that I’m in his bed and that we are lying against each other but that is all that will ever be okay. Then he lets me get under the covers and then he pulls me against him again. When I try to just lay down he pulls me back, places my hand on his chest.

Eventually he lets go and I am dreaming of nothing, just grey and spit and cracks in the sidewalk. I wake up and check my watch, 9 o’clock. I go to the bathroom and drink about 8 cups of water and look for aspirin, painkillers,coke, anything. The cabinets are filled with expensive beauty products but nothing that will help me now. It’s too hard to move, too early, I’m still drunk. For some reason, I just get back into bed.

Then he does it again. Hands down my pants. Which is the point where I really start to think and get sick. He’s not drunk anymore. I’ve said no several times. I bet he thought I was sleeping. I want to say I know who you are, I know your name, I could fuck you over. I blacked out on your porch; you could have put me on the couch.

Then again he could have put me on the street. I think that’s why I can’t say fuck you is that I blacked out and I woke up in a soft bed. Blacking out was my fault, especially in some random apartment far from friends and safety. I say nothing. Should i have? Who knows.

I get out of bed at noon and luckily I find my car keys and my cell phone. He shows me the door out and I have no idea what to say. Sober enough to talk and I just want to get out. He's still being nice asking if i need to use a phone. I act as if nothing happened because I am a coward. I let his kindness confuse the fact that what he did was not okay. Coward.

I walk to the bus station and take the 66. I feel strangely good. I’m on the bus, I never take the bus. There are all these people with ugly faces, worn out faces, destroyed faces, the faces I like to look at.

I’m happy because I didn’t really get raped last night. I’m happy because I have my cell phone and my car keys. I guess I’m happy because something actually happened and I didn’t just fall asleep in the same stupid fucking bed in my fucking stupid room.

I have no idea what to think. I felt violated but it's not that bad. I don’t really care that much. I don’t know whether to say anything to him. Now he's just another face that I don’t want to have to see at some party.

drinking steel reserve out of a tin with bill.
and it makes the pain go away.
i'm so sorry.
this could have been so much.
maybe we will never know.
please come home one of these days.


bill made this for me.



other scientists will tell us that Eric Shaw's sense of passion and his laughter not only make it easier but also remind us how we used to be. is it then possible that if he were taught well and given the opportunity to lead the way that Eric Shaw could indeed be the future? of course it's possible. is it definite? is it even probable? i simply won't weigh in on that - it's really just not my place to say...


update.
i got kicked out of the new dance night in boston and during the third time of getting escorted to the door i kept asking "what am i getting kicked for?" the reason "you were in the bathroom with two other guys. period."

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfruckfucickfufcufkickfufckcufkcufkckcufrkjckcufciu ifufu ufu ckfu ufkfu kfuc

thank god for bourbon.

tomorrow.tomorrow.tomorrow.tomorrow.

lately i've been thinking about how things have become part of my body. how when i first started smoking i thought "wow this is killing me. i am inhaling and i am going to get cancer and this is great." and now i don't think about it. i just do it. i do it like i sleep and i eat and i drink. i've overindulged in everything there is to overindulge in.


it's hard to write. it's hard to do much of anything. i only watch movies i've already seen. bill got his prescription today. seventeen pills in my front right pocket and i guess that's okay.