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Wednesday, September 12th, 2001
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I'm getting sucked dry, by everyone.. it sucks, because I'm going broke .. I need to get my car fixed, I need to close this $3k deal, I need to get my license fixed and move out by the end of October.. I wonder more and more, day by day, if my friend Tim is really my friend.. that sucks alot.. I'm surrounded by interested/interesting women though, that's a plus.. and a new friend of mine is going to have me to her dorm soon and let all of her girlfriends have at me, that should be fun too :)
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Comments: Read 7 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, September 8th, 2001
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-= A Requiem to Danielle =-
how many have you chased away,
in your eternal life, being of light compaign?
that people would go seeking their grass roots,
that dangle six feet deep into the sod,
in love now, with the oblivious descent,
the disapated death, of god.
how many people have you made tired,
in your single handed decisision, and saving the world tirade,
war plaques, enscribed in old-age christian rune,
vanishian blinds, royal burgundy drapes,
to shield your childlike eyes, from the blaring sun outside,
where pyscho killers and childmolesters masquerade,
as cable repair men, car sales men, steel workers,
concert goers, and owners, and singers, and screamers alike..
you who have subscribed your faith to childlike, fear,
in hypersensitive and curious observation,
like the 9 year old on new york street,
watching and waiting, to drag some injured suckerboy, back into the alley,
and tell him what you saw.
you who watches every button glimmer in the light,
like fish bait cast down into the crowd,
by satan himself.
and taking hold of your injured warehouse manager boy [Barry],
got him cleaning out the traps, making dull of it, and pretty on your walls,
plush and extra padded beneath your feet,
fresh in a plastic gallon jug,
reaching clean and prestine into your bag,
you sink your dry and aching fingers down,
into the soothing muddy grunge of dirty folded paper.
taking all of your comfort,
taking all of your vacation,
in the paradise of dollar spending,
you spoke politicaly to me,
like the thief, oppossing the finger chip,
the mark of the beast you called it,
plastering your old-age christian runes across, the 666 barcode symbol,
that invades your very way of life.
sneaks it's money grubby fingers into your refridgerator,
but you, can be pacified, without radio, or television.
getting yourself in touch, with every child of 23,
who will allow you doctor's leighway,
access to the quiet victim inside,
you're going to save yourself a little world,
and let them live rent free in your basement,
how many frightened little children,
have you liberated into faithful frightened little men?
giving them a hermit's leighway of the world,
senses heightened in the presence fear, and all there is to see,
vision skewed, in the name of all that's clear, and clean.
perceived only as frightened little people can perceive,
how many liberated armies have you got writting with
brand new pens,
into empty notebooks you bought for them to fill?
given narrative permissions, incision to their thoughts,
you spawn and correct creativity, as a grandmother does to speach,
shaming all likenesses to, AN-EE_THING, that exists, outside of your living room walls,
upon where the pledge is written clearly,
carved into the wall, a heart, with an arrow piercing through,
and your love for god,
carved into your heart,
your archers poised, from down in the basement,
crouched in corners, looking sincerly upward into cobwebs,
obscured by eyelashes, and eyeskin,
archers poised and ready to let loose,
perched on tippy toes, and armegeddon begins..
and you stand quietly in the center of the room beneath,
and calmly you assure them.. "Let Loose."
let loose, pounds the young man's heart, LET LOOSE!
let loose, arrows are piercing, through the cinderblock walls,
ripping up through the dirt, pentrating the yard, and up,up,up, out into the sky,
exploding like fireworks, a tribute to your house,
a spectacle and credit to your name,
and the flames shall not die,
they fall invisible under the sun lit sky,
like hell on earth upon the people in the streets,
comet crashing down through roofs of cars,
the flames shall not die
the flames shall not die
deep into the night
the interstate roads are blazing,
a spectacle of urban life,
in a glorious extermination of sin,
making asphalt of us all.
(the sulphur lake mixture that paves your way to freedom,
to total world anhialation).
transforming all the concrete world,
into a safer place, for pale faced children,
to come wandering in from the ashes,
down into your plush carpet, burgandy basement,
where orange juice is served clean from a plastic jug.
you and I used to dance, in orbit above your bedroom mattress,
something happened slowly as we laughed,
and it turned the world between us.
the mattress was foul.
it was defaced in every way a mattress can be.
scrawled across it were a kamikaze list of names,
professions of your younger sister's love,
for boys who never loved her right.
(all of their names were Ian, Ian, IAN).
but you and I, were brand-new out of the package,
privy to the magic of dave matthews and blue's traveller and the cure.
I loved you then.
I loved you for a long time.
you used to be in love with my suffered heart,
well I'm all suffered out.
all of the happiness I know in these years, is egotistical.
(good thing about egotists, they never have anything anything bad,
to say about anyone.)
and you set to breaking me down.
piecing me apart,
and I hated you,
with all of my flatulant heart, I hated you.
you spoke to me once,
in my brother's bed,
the door was closed,
the hatchers, bores, gabbers and eyesores were making a ruckus in the hallway,
your effort was bold,
your throat lent grogginess to your words,
your eyes were closed,
you spoke to me about sex,
bout you and me,
I couldn't tell you then,
couldn't speak it out loud..
static in the air made silent,
by your marinated hatred for men,
I wasn't strong enough to shatter that peace, between us.
I couldn't touch you then.
like a stupid little boy,
I cried myself to sleep next to you.
but I did not sob or shake.
you flirted with me once,
at that pizza man's house,
I can't remember his name now,
I worked with him tuesday and thursdays nights I think,
you flattered me,
calling me your bodyguard,
we had a giggle when you sprayed his underarm deoderant
into your crotch,
and fixed your face..
I tried to be excited for you,
$50 was $50, all in good fun,
you poked me square in the asshole,
"hey hey now.. don't be"
"yeahyeah, I know."
what did you expect?
you were a stripper then,
I was a delivery driver for the pizza house,
and it was his birthday.
I was the DJ
and you were the nasty beast
straddling that good ole boy,
red neck rubberface to his couch,
laid up and a bachelor for one last night,
in his newly remodled house.
he'd wanted you since you were 14,
when he was 23,
too timid he was to touch you,
there was a peace between you and I,
that he could not bring himself to shatter.
you treated me to a pack of cigarettes after,
and a juice drink, from the AMACO at 46th & Shadeland Avenue.
I think it was those very cigarettes,
that very night,
that I got lung cancer,
and sick on citrus syrup in my belly.
you took me back to your new house,
on the southside of town,
a small white house, with an emormous yard,
out there in the big rows, on the outskirts.
we slept in the living room,
talking like we used to do,
when I was a homeless guest in your father's house,
talking till 6am, in languid pothead tongue,
careful not to fall asleep,
until your father was gone to work,
so that I could come back out of your closet,
and sleep on your hardwood,
next to your makeshift unfold-a-bed.
nothing was real, or cruel in those days,
our days.
one day, you came to slum with me in the trailor park,
it was a bright grey, gloomy day,
it was so cold, that the water stung, if you touched it.
I was wearing my leather coat, by now the zipper was useless,
and my shoes had holes, my socks were soaked in 4 or 5 different places.
one of your pretty boys was driving you around,
and you came skipping up to me, eyebrows peaked,
as though to convince me of how happy you were to have
found me walking a small circle on the street outside my trailor.
I felt flattered, which always makes me weary and watchful,
If I'd have been a little older than I was,
I'd have realized your damage, recognized it like my own,
and doing your best to be happy inspite of it,
like me.
but I didn't,
and you said the most beautiful thing to me.
you said "I miss you all the time, the only time I feel like I'm really alive,
is when I'm with you. when you're not around, it feels all the world is just a, like a movie."
I said "and when we're together, it's like we're the main characters?"
and you said "yes, exactly."
I was afraid to be happy about that,
for fear that the real world that was the movie of you and I might slip off
into some punctuated happiness.
anyway, you hated men, and secretly, somehow, I was aware of it.
remember that time,
you came over at 7:15am in the morning,
I was living back at your father's house,
with porkchop.
you woke him up,
you had a bag of coke.
a big bag.
you two took the full size body mirror down off of his bedroom door,
set it on the coffe table,
and dumped it all at once across the mirror.
you came equipped,
with a razorblade,
and straws cut short.
you invited me,
but I was tired,
and uninterested.
your almighty coke binge,
another trapsing through the pit for you,
you and porkchop,
like pigs,
snorting on the tops of carousel sticks,
in chaotic circles all across the freshly mirrored table.
I came in later,
you were dead on porkchop's bed.
you begged me not to talk to you.
about anything.
I think you were begging me not to talk to you about your coke binge.
I honestly couldn't have cared less.
hell, didn't we used to work a haunted house together?
you called me at 3 oclock one morning,
from the Red Garter, downtown,
you were hob knobbing with Dave Matthews,
in the FLESH!
you invited me to come hang out with you two,
but I had to work the next morning,
I probably should have woke up, got dressed,
and told the computer shoppe to kiss my white monkey ass.
truth was still dreaming about cowboys wielding light sabers in new york city,
and didn't want to lose dream.
you called me that day at the computer shoppe,
said he licked your asshole out,
alot.
didn't you say his concubine wanted an 8 ball,
but you wouldn't get it for him?
and how Dave told him to get lost?
I was so envious of you.
seldom do two men talk, the way a man and woman talk,
talk as strangers, walking down the street.
we smoked some pot later,
and you told me all about the mess he made on your belly,
said you'd never forgive him for what he did to your hair,
and all about your socks being inside out,
after he'd taken them off.
(nearly a victim of lightning you were that night.)
on old fat man of an asshole he was now.
all the time.
you went slowly mad over the next 3 months.
and everything he sang about,
was suddenly a sexual inuendo in your ears.
that was the last thing we had.
I think it was then, that you and I truely became seperated.
the beauty that was found, soulfully between you and I,
was found under the spell of his music,
and it was lost under it as well.
is that all you and I were?
like two concert goers on the lawn?
you shared with me some of your dark green leaf,
and evangilitical philosophy,
some military christian attitude,
and good clean american fun?
is the only thing I shared with you,
an absolutely silent truth?
an egotistical laugh or two?
a heartbreak and a heaven of Dave Matthews with you?
I remember Blue's Traveller opened.
did you coordinate the show?
I know you tried.
so did your father sometimes.
"I've got $50 bucks that says I could live in your bathroom closet for a week."
I had a closeable door then.
that's when you started flashing me your tits.
I wonder what you would have started flashing
had I ever had a lock on that door.
silly girl.
sometimes I wonder if that would have made me a pedophyle,
to be lost in sexual fumble with you.
your attraction to men,
is the same as my attraction to my mother's friends has been.
but yours has never changed.
a blasphemy to your father,
and all that he's shown to you in magazines,
that debate about the world,
a world you'll never know.
blasphemy to the magazines,
to the news stands,
to the record labels,
and television talk shows.
blasphemy to car makers,
and the corporates
and their sons.
blasphemy to the bhudists,
who eat little children,
and make women carve out their cunts.
blasphemy to national geographic,
who dares to 'tame' the wild beast.
and to the government officials,
and to the homeless underachievers,
to the criminals,
and the police.
is that what frustrates you most of me?
that you cannot discount my gentle eyes,
or arbitrate me, by your blasphemous heart?
does it enrage you, when I stand alone,
and unscathed outside your world?
untouchable by your left,
unreachable by your right?
are you waiting like a vulcher,
that circles, watching over,
waiting for me to fall down into the desert,
and beg for water,
for fear of dying for thirst?
everybody dies Danielle.
but I will be crisp before you get a drink of me.
and you will tire and fall upside down out of the sky,
before I yield my dying meat to you,
we both will lay, in death outstretched,
mangled by pride,
hankering for love,
starved of humility.
goodbye danielle.
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Comments: Read 14 or Add Your Own.
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my dusty wings are raised
to rise above the waste
another filthy child
is staring into space
another mangey dog
is digging up your face
another tiny heart
is loving you in vain
constellations fall
to wallow in your grace
another dogged smile
is swallowing my faith
beneath the beggars cry
is a quiet word for pain
another silent mile
whispering your name
a moment lost on time
is a moment just the same
another empty line
and everything is washed away
there's only one way down
way down
and that's down.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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[ ] = inserts (edits)
people think I'm so obscure, or "deep"
It's not that
when I was younger,
I had a secret about my father
that I was not allowed to tell
I wanted so badly for people to find out
I would tell them all the time
by dropping little hints
I would bury the truth down
to my deepest place
secret place
that felt so much sadness
and alientation
that I later came to call it my soul
I would recede
driven down
to where I wasn't even there
my senses attended
but I did not.
when my father was locked away
all that weirdness
that evolved strand of
the self awareness virus
all the fear
the confusion
that sadness that had adhered to years
of the strictest of eyes looking upon it
the madman secret keeper,
keeping his house under a silent lock & key
with punishment repreives
and cotton candy priveledge nogatiatons
all that hurt
that coiled so tightly that it was
nearing a black hole universe implosion
exploded like a backpack jet rocket
hatred
and I escaped
and I became (as the old woman
with the orgy fairy tales, termed it/me)
a "skybaby"
a "flybaby"
I was villianous
my mother was always a wreck from me
and my antics of swindling her purse money,
escaping out 2nd story windows,
with my bedroom door tied to another
so that neither door could be pulled
open into the room
with my shoes and most of my clothes lying in the hallway
outside my door.
I was trecherous
the way I hated her
for punishing me
I was the elite soldier machine
and I was capable of anything now.
my comrade, CJ
he has many stories to tell
about our youthful days.
I was a coward of the streets
and a tyrant of my house.
I would stop at nothing
to be free of that place.
I took off into the sky,
into the information superhighway
and 2400 baud warm fronts
and local dialin cold fronts
I reached out into california
and found a freadom of speech
cumulous cloud
the phone bill was outrageous
but I was 16 years old
and could not be kicked out of the house.
I was good with a pillow,
and hurled tennis shoes with deadly accuracy
I could not be disconnected.
I boarded up my windows
I was untouchable.
I slept one day out of 7
no one else in my house could do that
they had to sleep sometime
my mother called my uncle,
her brother over
to beat me into submission
but he was a reasonable man
and could only hit me so many times.
he could not follow me in
follow me down
to where I keep my truth[s]
he could not extract me.
it is many years now
and I don't go there anymore.
[into the valley of ghosts
that once filled my mouth
I kept them at bay from [the rest of] you.
but still you hated me.]
but sometimes I sit here on the rim
of the [swirling circular] abyss
staring down [into]
where all of my truest of truths lie
where everything formulates within me.
and my senses attend the moment
and there buried beneath everything I am
is the truth [of the moment]
but it is from up here,
where my senses are attending
that my genuis mind contrives ways of saying
what I really want to say to you.
my sick self aware mind is exact
if it settles for less than accuracy
it is because it is unsure
and it portrays that accurately as well.
I'm a flower that blossoms infinitely and forever
outlines of petals that vibrate with sound
that has never existed before.
I am a bastard
and this is my true voice.
I do not know of it's origins
so it is as original as anything has ever been to me.
I consider this a blessing.
sometimes it is subtle
sometimes it is recessed
sometimes it is forthright from the sidelines of the abyss
I guess I've just got a rooted need
to "tell".
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I caught them once
lurking
I was at this convienent store
village pantry
they had these little orange sponge people
it saw "grow-a-date"
and they would expand to 8-10 times their original size
I went to pay for my smokes and gas, and there was a new
scratch off ticket
"Spam"
a lottery ticket dedicated to the pink immitation meat
I looked around
and everyone was smiling
I freaked.
so I exited as normally as I could
and then I bolted across and down the street a bit to the
park
but there I was, a sitting duck in the parking lot
so I took off into the woods
that ran along the edge
and there peaking out from the ravine
covered mostly in the leaves of last year's fall
they there were!
BUSTED!
RED HANDED!
WATCHING ME.
they were all looking around quickly at from one to another
of each other
they didn't know what to do
I knew too much
they had been discovered
but they couldn't trash the experiment
not after so long
so they just disappeared into the ground
as did the leaves of last fall
and I was left standing under the wanning fingers of naked
trees
staring down into the leafless abyss ravine
contemplating my own sanity.
and of course
it slipped away
like dreamlike de sha vue
the kind that you're not even sure if you ever had de sha vue
the uncertainty indigenous to de sha vue
where you can't even be sure if you're awake
or on the verge of waking.
I suck my finger
but I knew I could be sucking my finger passed out on the
floor
so I kicked a trashcan over
I knew that maybe I had kicked my bookshelf by my bed
and that the onlookers were figments of my insecurity
so I ran up to the building in the front by the street
I put my face up against it, and rubbed my cheeks and hands
all over it
like a blindman trying to get into the cracks of it
like a man making love to his dead wife, for all the world
to see.
but there was no ghost
nor crack
just abrassions on the hands
and breeze across the face,
and all the world was right again.
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'in the name of all that is calculable!'
'save our precious new world!'
'only you can prevent forestlike infestations to our bold new
towering monuments to the sky'
'infectious wildlife are making guerilla attacks and
suicide runs against the highway stretches in between'
'they have rabis! exterminate them!'
'interesting the way a possom can lay bite to man's best friend, and then follow it around
while it madly kills stuff, and they eat the leftovers'
'the trees are bending their roots upward, and breaking up our
prestine citysidewalks'
'the most powerful of these villians are the mighty oak.'
'they will stop at nothing, until they have made a ruin of our very
way of walking/riding/driving.'
'we must take up chainsaws, and tear them down where they stand.'
'for the children'
'lest they have no place to roller blade or ride their bicycles
back and forth in.'
landfills are spreading a gas that is poisonous to the senses
their rage has discolored many bueatiful sunsets.
our garbage has taken league with the dirt, and has betrayed us, for a
promise of readmittance into the old world.
birds are doing what they can, shitting down from the sky, splattering
a muddy white feces down upon our impervious chariots of smoke and fire..
they are contemptuous of our brand new sheen.
they have learned the power of a focused sunlight.. and they aim to put
cracks into our shine, for they are jealous, that our cars can now change color
under the sunlight, just as their oily wings do.
this jealousy will be their undoing, as they are driven into a frenzied
madness, and swoop down beneath our car tires.. it is a lucky thing for us,
that their brains are smaller than a frozen pee.
'the ones that grow in sheets now, in our factories of genetic
wonder.. we don't need no stinkin dirt.. dirt is not our friend.. it has
threatened to refuse us rose bushes in the mideastern states.'
'it's motives are still unclear.. but we do not negotiate with
terrorists.'
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everywhere I went, people were kicked back in on the couch watchin tv,
in swimmin trunks, and diving goggles- and there on this rocking chair,
a beach ball was teetering on the edge, of anticipation.
and the slouchers were without itch or want, boob tubing and takin it in
surviving like apes. on stale pretzel passion,
in a paradise, shielded from the fierce ultraviolet outside.
something of the beach balls and rocking chairs,
has frenzyd up, like late-march madness, into the sky.
it has boiled over,
..and summer drizzles down on Indianapolis.
wiping dry my brow, while midafternoon swelters. amd sidewalks wave
waterfalls like race flags the beckon the motionless clouds that sleep a gaping circle in the sky.
you appear to me, from deep within the bricks and limestone, the asphalt, and
galavanized city sign posts, that bleed small circles of rusty red onto the sidewalk.
you appear to me a nymph of the sewer flowers, the ones they eat at the
techno raver dancer parties downtown.. and your gaze blows like spring breath
howling down the sidewalk to me.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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if I could plant a seed,
like a simple strand of breeze,
I'd scream your name across this field,
of poison ivy trees.
and if I could rain, like pollution,
dripping down from the sky,
I'd descend upon this orchard,
of itch and confusion
like a storm, I never cried.
I'd rain, and pour, and thunderstorm,
like a search for you.
I'd crack the sky into pieces,
like I hurt for you.
wasting all my sleeping hours,
faking a wake in a world I might never know,
I remember three days ago, I was awake beyond words,
I remember thinking, "I could be better than this."
"I could be the biggest fake, this carnival's ever seen."
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the shadows stretch and fade,
and the hours, are minutes, amongst days.
and you're lost in the fog,
of a slow city smog,
that settles on the towers.
in the late of afternoon.
and it'll be a cold, day,
like the ones you spend in the tomb,
before the sky gives way,
to your bend, or your gaze,
or the birds, sing praise of your doom.
you statues will crack, long before,
far off dreams, make announcement at your door.
was there one in a million words, from me,
that I could have uttered, into a world more serene?
struggling toward, but never did you reach,
a true articulation of your scream.
I think, I answered, every question, from you,
I feel I spoke the truth,
amidst the empty spaces in between.
who of you and she, were listening,
here in the silence sound, in the eye of 637 guns firing,
all is said, a million times,
and everything has come undone.
but I think there's something to be said,
for my refusing to feel you, or heal of you, my love.
who of she and you, shall perish in the dust,
and echoes of a thousand flying bullets,
screaming for their lover's trigger touch
and find their marks on sign posts,
and railroad tracks, and voicemail, panic attacks.
the line on the map has faded,
and anarchy settles quiet on the land again.
and two thieves have stolen off, back into the city smog.
and on the outside,
I can see the colors burned,
etched by sun and snow,
into the fabric white, of your flag
that once waved of wild surrender.
stained now, in rainbow rebel glory
deepening, dark and slow.
you're not an angel anymore
and I can live with that
I don't mind the fall
I can take the truth
but I will fall over dead,
for lack of living out loud,
before I fake myself,
for you, or anybody else,
then or now, or ever, remember that,
I won't fake a smile,
I won't walk a detoured mile,
I won't spread the word,
nor please your crowding eyes,
with innocence, and timid lies.
and I won't wear the stain,
like a badge, or purple heart
I won't pick you up
and I won't fall apart
I love you.
-`'.=`.'`/- - - -
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I've got this picture of you
in my head
porcelain
unbroken and dead
outlined in chalk
downtown on the sidewalk
hellicopters buzzing through skyscrapers
spotlights swarming your head
makeup, painted,
across your hollow face
lips lay like blood worms
sprawling silent martry'd grief.
here lies a woman
'62 through '99
in perfect folded posture
descendant of the evening sky
sincere she bled,
every color of red,
"one of these days,
you'll ALL see me dead!"
one of these days
like mid-week-trauma's raunchy gossip
whispered in her house
conceited
maniacal
like the housewife laughter
that echoed in her mouth
quiet now,
mother.
eyes that exhale their final breath
as all have gathered here, to grant you your release
on the edge of monument circle
porcelain sacrifice to the street
--end
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WavySel: hi
Nebuchadnezzr: hi
WavySel: I read your live journal
Nebuchadnezzr: when?
WavySel: a couple weeks ago
WavySel: mine is http://wavyblue.tripod.com/~seleriquis
WavySel: it's not really a journal
WavySel: just a bunch of writing from this year
WavySel: I acceidentally pasted rough drafts instead of final drafts on some of them
WavySel: pictures are http://wavyblue.tripod.com/Pict0035.JPG http://wavyblue.tripod.com/Pict0036.JPG http://wavyblue.tripod.com/Pict0040.JPG
WavySel: etc etc
WavySel: I would think you would be out at this time/day
WavySel: having an "Indy Night Life" journal and all that :-)
Nebuchadnezzr: no i have to work tomorrow
WavySel: I haven't read your journal in awhile
WavySel: where'd you find work?
WavySel: Subway?
Nebuchadnezzr: out pof town
WavySel: I just updated my journal twice
WavySel: I didn't think I'd actually use it, thought I'd just put my writings in it
WavySel: but I like it
Nebuchadnezzr: cool
WavySel: I wouldn't have written in it, if I weren't trying to make conversation with you, like talking.. but to a targeted audience of one.. so thanks.
Belinda, if you're out there.. this is post number 3.. one day, I'm gonna make a book, I was gonna call it "Front the Frontline of this Paradigm Shift"
but I don't think I'll make that book.
I think I'll make blank on the front, full of lines, but no words.. I'll print up 50, or a hundred, or a hundred million of them.. they will be a best seller.
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she told me about some guy brian.. I ran into a brian who knew her, he was the brian, I told him my name, and he knew of me.. why would she tell us about each other? we were both nothing. a couple phone conversations.. well, 2 years ago she was absolutely silent at this psuedo rave thing we went to, then back at my friend's apartment she told me to rape her "I want to be raped, I like being raped.. all my friends rape me." she was wearing a skirt, but her bones and skin, oh man, I dunno why.. just couldn't do it.. she was/is pretty.. she was probably turning me off on purpose, she probably wasn't interested in me, just liked being interesting TO me, which she wasn't.. fuck her. ;) actually, It'd be nice to be like fuck her, becuase then I would feel something for her.. or feel something in general, or have some trait that is remotely human/understood by other humans.. the winking smile is a dummied up dream of a personality I concocted .. it wasn't a concoction really, it wasn't even spur of the moment. it was 2 poundings, in an infinite pounding of keys on my keyboard.. we could argue that there is meaning in them, that when we string them up out in space, they travel infinitely forward, the quantum time line, an outdated science fiction.. but still we could go hopping along them like rocks in the stream, like astronaughts on the moon we could hop along them and spend a solid black eternity weightless and empty in the relative center of infinity forever and see absolutely nothing.. so here is my lack of something to say, and whole lot of wasted words, banged out by my bored and prefectly tuned fingers, obedient to my helplessly, and redundantly empty mind. The feeling of waste in me, is no longer an emotional feeling. It's a memory of vivid evenings, seen by a dead man with working eyes, limp in his coffin. thanks for listening.
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Today was decent, a friend of mine who has been being acting very shittily toward me has been pretty decent for the past 2 days. I made a decent sale, and have an even bigger one in the works.. my aunt's computer (the one I just set her up with cheap) is falling apart. my friend cj found me an lt1 engine and something or another 400, for $500 if I can act by Monday (so it's a maybe). I got the phone number of the guy who side-swiped my parked car, we're gonna take my car up to his buddy who runs Church Brother's car place next week. I talked to suzanne finally on mud.. she's got a sugardaddy, said he reminds her alot of me.. I wonder if it's a boyfriend type, her dad, federal grants, who knows.. ? all my friends are calling me "bullshyter".. is there a pop song out that I'm not aware of, that has made this word popular? my other bestestbestestlongestknowing guy friend is dating my ex know.. it is a very allieviating feeling that I don't mind it.. Leonard Cohen's "and it won't make me jealous, if I hear that they've sweetened your night.. we weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be alright" (Sting redid that song 'Sisters of Mercy') .. I'm always in awe of those people who feel that way, and here I am being okay with it.. maybe I'm just not as attracted to her as others.. or maybe she so universaly loves/fears the world, that I bonded with her astrally, and do feel any breaking away of her from me.. I dunno.. maybe I'm worthless bastard who doesn't give a shyt about his lover(s).. I just don't care.. but not in a bad fork stabbing way.. in a after-orgasm sleepy smiling passing way.. I dunno, too many .. .. .. .. .. I don't really mean them, I just want you to stop for a minute and think about what I just said.. even if I didn't stop and think about it.. I have time enough to think about it as I think it/say it/type it/time passes differently internally.. I am external to you, and we both know it, so deal with my infinite trail offs and ons ..because I do go on and on in and from and out of every direction.. who am I kidding? I'm as mundane as orange peels undried on the counter. I was never a part of the citrus acid pulpy string web globe of nuturing and awakening flavor.. I'm not even an orange peel.. I just said that because who gives a phuck? ya know? I am a waste of apathy.. because apathy is powerful, and I am empty. Good night.
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Thursday, August 23rd, 2001
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Okay, now that all that non-sense is out of the way, I can start using this thing.. let's see.. I'm not in shape anymore, I need to start working out again.. I stay home read books, play guitar and make sales calls all day.. and answer emails.. la de day.. it's actually pretty nice, pays good.. I need to get my car fixed and get the phuck out of my mother's house by the end of October.. I still need to get together $200 to finish my computer ($50-$75 for a 400Watt PowerSupply, and $125 for a 19" Monitor).
I miss Suzanne still.. I like a girl named Nicole, she's a fruitloop pyscho bytch who likes to fuck with people I think.. but some people I know at the poetry house (Andy especially.. he's a good guy) says she's alright.. he hangs out with her.. I'm afraid of her.. oh well.. I miss Sarah too.. I'm missing alot of my ex-es recently.. probably because I refuse to get a hair cut, and so I don't have girls wanting for me helplessly.. but this fall I'm going to go down to bloomington and show my hair off at Denny's in front of you know who (well.. you probably don't know who, but I do :) doodedoo (megan got me hooked on DoodeDOoo) BelindaShort.. Oh My God.. I hope you get back with me via email, because I'm really digging you (= oh and a girl named Wendy is my weirdest date I ever went on.. and after 2 years, she pops in at this party house I go to on the inner eastside (very sleezy, which is fun.. and it's nice because you can talk alot, or not talk at all, and no one gives it a 2nd thought.. they're occupied :)
hrmmm.. I talk to much about too little.
I need a girlie too.
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<`Sel> screw realism
<`Sel> realism'll get ya takin shots in the arm ;)
<`Sel> and disgusted with life
<`Sel> and unable to associate anything sexual with
love =)
<`Sel> er, for me rather =)
<`Sel> yeah
<`Sel> I mean I'm a lustyclown in my heart =)
<`Sel> and my body starts walkin like a mind of it's
own
<`Sel> but I can masterbate my body
<`Sel> and sing muffin man to my heart ;)
<`Sel> my mind's ok
<`Sel> and my soul delights in finding myself in
everything else and everything else in me =)
<`Sel> I can get that from a grain of sand =)
[ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<julia^babydawl>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] <`Sel> screw realism
<`Sel> realism'll get ya takin shots in the arm ;)
<`Sel> and disgusted with life
<`Sel> and unable to associate anything sexual with
love =)
<`Sel> er, for me rather =)
<`Sel> yeah
<`Sel> I mean I'm a lustyclown in my heart =)
<`Sel> and my body starts walkin like a mind of it's
own
<`Sel> but I can masterbate my body
<`Sel> and sing muffin man to my heart ;)
<`Sel> my mind's ok
<`Sel> and my soul delights in finding myself in
everything else and everything else in me =)
<`Sel> I can get that from a grain of sand =)
<Julia^BabyDawL> Okay guys if a girl told u they
wanted to get you drunk and take advantage of you
what would you think?
<cupid^007> m
<cupid^007> u?
<XPuNKGuYX> i would be like ok
<XPuNKGuYX> if it was u jules
<cupid^007> julia i would kill um
<BiGGiN> that i was getting laid...
<`Sel> I would think "BLOWJOB BABY! BLOOOWJOOB!!!! "
;>
<kRyPticK> i'd say.... "how drunk you want me to get?"
<`Sel> tell him he gotta lick it
<kRyPticK> lol
<`Sel> before he stick it\
<`Sel> don't let him inside the well
<`Sel> he gotta make a raspberry swirl or sumshyt ;)
<Julia^BabyDawL> no I told a guy i anted HIM to get
drunk so I could take advantage of HIM
<Julia^BabyDawL> He just has a gf so i havent exactly
aske dhim out hehe
<`Sel> you know what you need to try Julia
<`Sel> shakin your money maker.
<`Sel> no really.
<BiGGiN> i think it may work
<Julia^BabyDawL> hahaha
<`Sel> you gotta use what you got
<`Sel> to get what you want.
<`Sel> work it girl
<`Sel> work it.
<`Sel> bounce your ass,
<`Sel> make your knees touch your elbows
<`Sel> you know the drill..
<`Sel> ;)
<`Sel> heh
<`Sel> I'm all funnied out
<`Sel> =)
<Julia^BabyDawL> dang.
* Julia^BabyDawL walks around in circles.
<`Sel> alright
<Julia^BabyDawL> Ive never liked a guy with a
girlfriend before.
<`Sel> now toss the hair
<`Sel> that's it
<`Sel> love the camera
<`Sel> hate the camera
<`Sel> Oh oh! The camera tricked you!
<`Sel> You've been betrayed by the camera!
<`Sel> ok, now
<`Sel> laugh
<`Sel> that's right
<`Sel> that drop cloth just said some whackass shyt
<`Sel> and you're not sure if you're safe anymore
<`Sel> ok
<`Sel> you're scared
<`Sel> you frightened for your life
<`Sel> the camera's chasing you
<`Sel> run run!
<`Sel> RUN!
<`Sel> it's chasing you through the parking lot
<`Sel> SCREAM FOR HELP!
<`Sel> NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU
<Julia^BabyDawL> hahahaha
<`Sel> ok work it
<`Sel> slow now
<`Sel> it was just a shadow or somethin
<`Sel> how silly
<`Sel> that's right
<`Sel> giggle
<`Sel> the camera just told you it has to break up
<`Sel> you're sad
<`Sel> you're devestated
<`Sel> you don't wanna cry
<`Sel> you're holding back
<`Sel> you're mad!
<`Sel> YOUR ENRAGED
<`Sel> THE AUDACITY!
<`Sel> HOW DARE
<`Sel> !!
<`Sel> stomp
<`Sel> away
<`Sel> fuck that camera
<XPuNKGuYX> u ok james?
<`Sel> work that ass
<XPuNKGuYX> L9L
<`Sel> you're mad
<`Sel> you're sexy
<XPuNKGuYX> hehehe
<`Sel> work it girl
<XPuNKGuYX> hahahahahahaha
<`Sel> work it.
<XPuNKGuYX> roflmao
<`Sel> heh ;)
<XPuNKGuYX> ok ok ok now show me some feeling
<`Sel> lol
<XPuNKGuYX> werk it gurl
<Kara-Lyn> ha ha
<XPuNKGuYX> on the run way
<`Sel> heh ;)
<XPuNKGuYX> hehehe
<`Sel> alright neil
<XPuNKGuYX> sasha shanta
<`Sel> you're too good for the camera
<`Sel> too good for any of these pig fuckers
<`Sel> contempt for the camera
<`Sel> you've a greater love
<`Sel> just over the horizon
<`Sel> you're doing something else now
<`Sel> you forgot about the horizon
<`Sel> you forgot about everything
<`Sel> what?!
<`Sel> WHAT'S THE CAMERA DOING IN YOUR ROOM?!
<`Sel> GET OUT!
<`Sel> GET OUT!
<`Sel> alright
<`Sel> whatever
<`Sel> just don't steal nuthin
<`Sel> there ya go
<`Sel> work it neil
<`Sel> lick those lips
<Kara-Lyn> sel, you talk alot are you that bored?
<`Sel> nobody's lookin
<XPuNKGuYX> hahahahaha
<`Sel> dance like you mean it ;)
<`Sel> dance like the prom
* XPuNKGuYX dances around the room
<`Sel> slow
<`Sel> and steady
<XPuNKGuYX> hehehe
<Julia^BabyDawL> Evansville ppl MSSG me I gotta tell
ya something
<`Sel> you're gettin some later
<`Sel> if you can charm the panties of this camera
<`Sel> yeah
<`Sel> sexy
<`Sel> smooth
<`Sel> caring
<`Sel> soft
<`Sel> you're sexy
<`Sel> but you forgot about all that when you first
set eyes on the camera
<`Sel> the world is an opera
<`Sel> and you're alone
<`Sel> the camera wants you
<`Sel> but you won't accept it
<`Sel> you need more
<`Sel> you need the camera to make you sure of it
<`Sel> you need the camera
<`Sel> tonight
<`Sel> here
<`Sel> now
<`Sel> ..uh oh
<`Sel> you forgot to bring condom
<`Sel> you're so embarrased
<`Sel> you just lost your wood
<`Sel> oh no!
<`Sel> SHE'S LAUGHING!
<`Sel> YOU HAVE TO KILL THE CAMERA!
<`Sel> THE CAMERA IS LAUGHING AT YOUR LACK OF WOOD!
<`Sel> AND YOU DON'T HAVE A CONDOM
<opie01> Sel...what the hell are you rambling about???
<`Sel> and everyone is gonna lgaugh
<`Sel> you didn't get laid
<`Sel> the camera thinks it's funny
<`Sel> things are about to Get REAL Funny.
<`Sel> rip it
<`Sel> feel it!
<`Sel> HURT IT!
<`Sel> HURT IT LIKE IT HURTS INSIDE
<`Sel> show the world
<`Sel> work it
<`Sel> fuck it
<`Sel> work it sexy rage boy.
<`Sel> tattered thief expatriot of the
<`Sel> estranged white boy gypsy clan
<Kara-Lyn> SEl............ MAN YOU NEED TO stop your
kILLING ME mAN!
<`Sel> nomadic stranger breed
<`Sel> no one loves you
<`Sel> rip it
<`Sel> rip it open
<`Sel> give it to the camera
<`Sel> all your pain and suffering
<`Sel> all for the camera!
<`Sel> ALL AT ONCE! <--*(heh.. The Crow ;)*-->
<`Sel> lol ;) |
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<[yousef]> does everyone in idiana live in trailer parks?
<`Sel> yes they do
<`Sel> that's why they call it Indiana
<`Sel> the trailor park state.
<`Sel> even our statesmen
[ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<seabreeze`>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] <[yousef]> does everyone in idiana live in trailer parks? <`Sel> yes they do <`Sel> that's why they call it Indiana <`Sel> the trailor park state. <`Sel> even our statesmen <SeaBreeZe`> lmao <[yousef]> statesmen? <`Sel> retire from their hectic lives to the coolmetal sanctity of the trailor parks <hippi_chick> I don't <Crozzy> damn <`Sel> it's the american way <`Sel> we're nomads <[yousef]> hectic? <`Sel> and this is our way. <Crozzy> looks like the string an arab up society is gaining strength <Crozzy> keep it up guys <[yousef]> nobody in america has A HECTIC LIFE <`Sel> sure they do <Single_One_IN> lol <`Sel> that's why we all die of heart attacks at the tender ages of 42-45 <SeaBreeZe`> do all arbas wear towels and live in tents in the deserts with only horses for company? <[yousef]> i asure you they dont <hippi_chick> yousef, where the hell are you from? <Single_One_IN> yousef: nope nobody does.. just almost everyone does <SeaBreeZe`> so YOU say [yousef] <hippi_chick> you can't assure shit if you aren't here <[yousef]> they all drive suv and spend money at mcdonalds and k mart <`Sel> hectic -- characterized by activity, excitement, or confusion <hippi_chick> yousef: you're annoying <[yousef]> wile theyre wives spit out babies every couple of years <`Sel> americans are entirely hectic. <ArtStein> nite all, have fun <Jo_BoB> this receiver is pissing me off <Jo_BoB> god damnit <Jo_BoB> it keeps killing the musi and flashing protect for no reason <Single_One_IN> hey ya Randy36 <Single_One_IN> How goes? <`Sel> a few of them do <`Sel> a handful <`Sel> of m&m's <`Sel> swooped from the bowl <`Sel> of melted milk chocolate <`Sel> and broken candy shells <[yousef]> m&m? <`Sel> yeap <`Sel> we're broken <`Sel> and rich <`Sel> the machine grinds relentlessly <`Sel> breaking us all down into worthless piles of nickeldust on the cold concrete floor <Single_One_IN> hmm interesting Sel <`Sel> which is then swept behind the powerboxes <`Sel> and spires <`Sel> and it melts into the street <`Sel> it is a stain upon the floor <`Sel> a shame upon our land. <[yousef]> does the chocolate melt in your mouth and not in your hand <`Sel> it's the crimson blue color of the working man's blood. <palash> [yousef]: are you here? <`Sel> man <[yousef]> yes my brother im talking to useless gardian americans <`Sel> I'm so fucking cool sometimes (= <`Sel> hey <`Sel> watch your mouth <`Sel> we kill without passion <`Sel> like the dessert does <`Sel> we got laser guns mounted to satellites <`Sel> they're orbiting always <[yousef]> who say they have "hectic" lives <palash> ahh, yes. <palash> [yousef]: type /query palash <hippi_chick> can I kick him? <`Sel> we can login for $20.95 an hour and zap people with them from our cable connections @home <`Sel> you keep talkin shyt <`Sel> and I'm gonna pull up the java script <`Sel> killarabircshyttalker.java <palash> hahaha. <palash> do it. <[yousef]> they know nothing of the poverty stricken wastelands of our country <`Sel> I have to decide if it's worth 2.95 a minute <`Sel> to watch you fry. <`Sel> that's right <`Sel> we don't <`Sel> and we don't want to <`Sel> fix it yourself <`Sel> enslave your brothers <`Sel> build a country can give me the account data on your IP, since it's 2FB inode static... <`Sel> and then put the descendants of those slaves through college <`Sel> all will be well. <palash> (haha, you should've said that bullshit on a dial-up PPP with a dynamic IP :) <`Sel> nah <`Sel> you can do whatever you want :) <`Sel> I'm gonna login to the satellite <[yousef]> one like your decrepet demecratic system? <`Sel> let it auto detect the exact lattitude and longitude based upon your heat signal <`Sel> and zap your arab ass! ;) <Jo_BoB> hahah <`Sel> what's decrepet <`Sel> is your baren country <`Sel> that won't support your twisted way of life any longer. * SeaBreeZe` smacks [yousef]...type without the accent asshole <`Sel> goodbye non-christian. <`Sel> your time is over * Indiana_Male48 turns off his spell checker <`Sel> god is claiming this land for us again. <Jo_BoB> hey im not a christian either * `Sel cackles <`Sel> (me either ;) <`Sel> just talkin some hypothetical shyt :) <`Sel> god gave us satellites <`Sel> and laser guns <`Sel> so we could show ya'll <`Sel> what god's REALLY about <`Sel> you talked shyt for so long <`Sel> but now <palash> you're, you're a prole. <`Sel> we're comin back <`Sel> strong <`Sel> and hard. <`Sel> god in the hizouse! <`Sel> and he ain't takin no SHYT! <palash> God, HAHAHA. <`Sel> in the 0-1 <`Sel> keep on laughin <[yousef]> you are a usless drone <`Sel> cry later <`Sel> when I kill your babies and take your land! <palash> Are you a follower of one of those monotheistic desert nomad religions? (judaism, christianity, islam, etc.) <palash> Come on, I thought you were smarter than that SEL! <palash> SEL like my 500SEL * `Sel yawns <`Sel> you lost me <`Sel> I'm stupid <`Sel> sorry. <SeaBreeZe`> omg...my sides hurt...this is too fuckin funny * `Sel nick `Sel_Away End of #indiana buffer Mon Aug 20 23:38:52 2001 |
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] damn.. I think I thought she loved me.
] am I on way to the wreckage yard?
] to swingers clubs, and all you can eat fried chicken?
] is this the admissions booth?
] am I paying for this?
[Atiel] is someone constructing a classroom for me?
[Atiel] Leonard Cohen's friend F. said "insanity is your classroom."
[Atiel] is someone trying to enlighten me?
[Atiel] the hard reality of that which I'm so enchanted by?
[Atiel] some earthshaking tremor to the bueaty?
[Atiel] some earthshaking tremor to the bueaty?
[Xap] uh. what?
[Xap] you sound like you need to lay off the cough syrup.
[Atiel] just babbling to hear myself think :)
[Xap] anyway, i go now :)
[Atiel] yeah maybe crack's not so bad
[Atiel] if everything I like about myself, is repeatedly attributed to it
[Demona] atiel what are you on?
[Atiel] maybe it's not the slavemaster people make it out to be
[Atiel] maybe I'M the slavemaster, people make it out to be.
[Demona] ok he is sniffing the glue again!
[Atiel] nuthin.
[Atiel] damn.
[Atiel] I can only get so many kicks out of being called a lunatic
[Atiel] my roll'o'number'matic is running low
[Atiel] lock the doors
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I just love you. either somewhere in the folds of my heart, or somewhere in the cracks, of the streets, that
deliver me to your door, I love you. I see your shape in everything. Mostly your hips, your lips, and your tits,
like a snack, that snacks back.. I lay freakishly in chair, sprawled and waiting for your lips. I've never seen
your face, In all the speakers and couches, I've yet to see your face..I miss your face.
I can still recall your voice, like a sonogram echoing words too far and wide to hear.. but I can feel
the every little detail of your voice, coming and going throughout me. I miss you.
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]]Bad Poetry, Illustrations of Foolish Thought/Perception about a girl[[
I feel like such a failure.
feels like I was supposed to sweep you up,
and off of your feet,
and all I've done is nibble at your crotch.
wiped my dripping face,
on your sexiest of underwears and lace.
poured my eyes out,
to memories of your softer shapes.
sleeping with you.
what is it worth?
in all my exaggerated sadness,
and thinking like love, just because it hurts.
diggin em in,
shovelin work,
tossin an sleepin,
churnin the dirt.
aspirin and toilet paper,
a headfull of cloud,
drinkin your water,
and stumblin around.
sleepin with you, a head full of dirt?
sanding the concrete,
churnin the hurt,
and in all the empty thoughts,
that crowded around, on your couch,
I connected the dots,
I figured it out.
work, and work, and shovelin dirt,
churnin and churnin, just because it hurts;
memories of a softer face,
pretended perception, make-believe place.
delusion, pursuasion,
unattainable curse;
I sanded the sidewalks,
and what was it worth?
-
a head full of cloud,
a handfull of hurt..
stumblin around.
feelin like dirt.
agirl: is that how you look at it?
agirl: that's sad.
me: it was a mood
me: I'm not so fortunate
me: as to have a solid outlook
me: my outlook changes
me: like people do over time
me: _I_ think.
me: I mean no flattery to myself
me: it was back when we were having our breakup
me: *shrug*
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seleriquis's journal
