advice

The universe is indifferent. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell something. Don't be deceived. Take pills if you feel the need, sleep as much as you can. Don't let well-bred people with strong presences and firm handshakes get you down. Live an active inner-life. Don't feel as if you need to 'express yourself', that's a dead-end (you'll have to trust me on that one). As you age, consider adopting a protein-rich diet. Other people are overrated. Trust your intuition when it tells you that you are the only person that truly matters, but you don't matter all that much. Apathy will save your soul when nothing else can. Apathy will protect you from the those vicious little feelings that flail around and cause you pain when you don't have an outlet for useless emotions. Try to be as cool as you can. It's the only way to go.

paternity suite

was that your dad out on the lawn last night, wailing in tongues
castrating the family dog
tantalizing the family lawn mower
or was it mine?

Dads are: one and the same
"my father is your father"
as yours is mine (this is a lesson i learned in school)
from boyfriendless women
and fatherless shrews

you know, i must take this opportunity to say that i have always admired your mother
i feel that since you and i have both come of age we can talk about these things
she has always struck me as a proud trophy of a horse
a stern peak of dignity in a sterile container
beauty in a 3 bedroom/2 bath
a matriarch for the ages

i'll admit, i've snuck a whiff or two
i hope it doesn't shock you terribly
you see, she enchants me quite thoroughly
that dame, she's alright
i'd like to take her to a fine italian restaurant, perhaps a few towns over, for some eggplant parmesan and a reasonable merlot
your dad is not invited, F.Y.I.
he just wouldn't get it

San Fernando Valley, CA.
Tuesday, 11:22 P.M.

our girl, she's a true party favor
a sassy diva, a confident and outgoing modern woman
slightly sophisticated, with ideas of her own

'go on, get wet' someone told her once, in so many words
be true 2 yourself
but also, don't forget to b yourself
re-evaluate your status
almost constantly, check for errors
folk wisdom suggests most wise folks adhere to such standards
folksiness will get you everywhere in your later years, she assumed

her night had not gone as expected. tore up from the floor up, a wasted crust of a stump, her mouth ached with the salty burns. she tasted for a flavor. (there were none currently available.) 'well, shit', she exclaimed. then she remembered something, a promise she had made to herself long ago--

live your life to the fullest
live every moment like it were your last
'cause it just might be

having not the slightest notion of how to maximize her pleasure capacity at each and every present instant, she resigned herself to alcoholism.

potential opportunities

You see that junk over there
it's all junk
you don't want it
true desire is aroused by this fine specimen
with several distinct odors and flavors
make you so happy
(partially made of gold*)
Don't underestimate that kind of privilege.
you could be one of the people that actually matter

I was once like you. Then I found it. Now I'm like me. That speaks volumes about your potential.

In things, I am

In things I am, and am not, because I lack and desire and feel the kind of urges I couldn't fully explain until recently. In time I was, and wasn't, because either I couldn't remember what my place was in it or wasn't doing anything particularly remarkable and may as well not have been anyplace at all.

In time, I am, and have always been, even if I was relatively insignificant. But I was here, and still am and I still remember some of the smallest details with the complete lucidity of someone who was totally interested. I could speak of instances in waiting rooms as a kid or inconsequential car rides with the utmost precision, yet couldn't recall the majority of my most joyful moments, or the seeming profundity of my most miserable hours.

In time, such acute sensations have faded. I too have faded, only to be rejuvenated (perhaps too strong a word), undeniably changed. I have experienced the pleasure of a sound mind at the peak of intense ecstasy and failed to appreciate it. I have also experienced the horrors of a lost soul marinating in the depths of irrational, senseless pain and have forgotten its significance. In these memories I am but a viewer from the present, distant and detached, at times utterly dull, others half-listening. I stare and stare, but I don't know what it means. I don't know who that is. I don't recognize him fully-- only as an acquaintance whose mannerisms seem quaint and, if anything, serve to embarrass, slightly.

It has been suggested to me that I ought to take the position of thinking that in each present moment, I am reborn. I'm considering it.

I have seen the sidewalk pulsate, pavement rise from the earth as its adjacent counterparts recede inward. I have seen the sky turn virbrant, braided colors and take on a different appearance entirely, an indescribable quality, and I've felt the streaming tears of pure joy run down my cheeks as my body shuddered with spontaneous pleasure, and it has passed, and it is now just a memory.

I am from one moment to the next a has-been, seeking redemption or at the very least, freedom from the crushing boredom of the whateverness of the mundanity of the unstimulating, of the less-than-alright, of the un-yummy. But things will assuredly be yummy once more. I'll be reborn into them, in the midst of their gooey froth, only to be reborn out of it into another car ride or doctor's office, pining for the sensations linked to the images I've carefully retained. In the meantime, the lonely nostalgia of all my good-timin' erodes my soul.

I am, in things, perhaps less than in my dreams
I am, in fact, barely kept in tact-- 
By desire, by my brain
By these things I can't explain
Or couldn't until I figured out their meaning
Now that I have, I'd like to think
I am redeemed.

Revisions

"You aren't what I expected," she remarked slyly, as she sat there, smoldering. He stood in the doorway, silently, staring.

"You aren't what I expected," she said offhandedly, as she sat there in a pile of her own smoldering feces. He stood there in the doorway, gyrating, gently.

"You aren't what I expected," she exclaimed wide-eyed, as she sat cross-legged, utterly flaming. He stood in the doorway, rapidly fluttering his eyelids.

"You aren't what I expected," she said with her face, as she sat there trying to stand. He sat in the doorway, rapidly sitting in the doorway.

"You aren't what I expect," she said facing him as she stood there, trying to sit. He and the doorway, in an instant, were simultaneously one.

"You aren't, what?" her face cried. She sat there, sitting. He stood there, grinning.

"You aren't," cried her face. He grinned.

Morning Prayer

"Everything's a big joke except for me and what I want"
Desires conflict with preconceived contraceptive methods
And yet, we be giving birth almost constantly
Reaching back or through perhaps
Never quite being fully 'there' or here for that matter
Take time to reflect, merely project
Precocious little ego
Precious little flaws
Special little problems

*Pause*

It's not so bad/It's not that great
It won't be this way forever/It won't stay this way forever
It will get better eventually/It won't last

Give Death a Little Credit, Please

Return to the earth
On the brown side of the grass
While working on the perfect smile
This too shall pass

You don't want it unless you can have it
But you've had it
At times, hated it
At others, lusted after sensations
For the most part, however, it was more or less an alternating binary of confusion and boredom
Regardless, the memory of joy simply doesn't compare
To the reality of sorrow
The memory of pain is simply that, a memory
And the sensation of a loosening grip
Is only acutely displeasing if one is afraid of the consequences of letting go
So let go

If you were to fall from the third floor of a building
The only way to save yourself from certain death
Would be to relax yourself completely
Any tenseness whatsoever would spell your doom
Knowing this, in that instant you would have a choice, albeit a difficult one
You could save yourself if you could find a way to let go of your precious fear
The safety of sadness and self-pity couldn't save you
The choice would be up to you, in a split second
The choice would be yours

To pass your weapon to the left
Kick the barn door closed
Forever, until whenever
Or transcend whatever
It would be possible
Techincally, probable (to a slight degree)

Truth is, no one really knows what they would do unless they are put in a situation like that
But when we do, it will be real
One day we all will face ourselves--our minds, our maker
Everything we've set aside for later; everything we could have done better, could have put more effort into but wouldn't be troubled with at the time
It will all come eventually, and that too shall pass

This, I'm sure of
What it will sound like, smell like, feel like, mean, seem, or lead to, that I have no idea
But it will be real
And that's really all anyone has ever wanted
And that's really all that really matters

PRONE TO STANK

PRONE TO STANK
a poem.

if i had one wish
id wish for more wishes
then take out a loan
and patronize a mortician
to exercise my stank body of a bonerless corpse, of course
and my breath stinks
and i can't breathe
and i can't seem
to get a handle on all these bad dreams and things

don't just do something, stand there
and seem to be something
seemingly, i couldn't even imagine
behaving in such a fashion
dreadful, really
to postpone ones inevitable downfall
i mean brownfall
crowned balls wear the hairy crown
that smell like the last pair of balls that wore it
a diamond-encrusted spire got caught in the sack
and tore it

'bring me back to life', he said
'i can't. i've never done anything like this before.'
'it's easy, just live my life for me. breathe with my lungs, walk with my legs. finish my story, it's yours now.'
'i just can't', she pretended to sob. 'i just don't want to.'
he frowned. i mean he browned. heavy are the balls that wear the crown.

pizza, bring me back to life

pizza, bring me back to life
as i hang me in my quiet place
my happy space, where i am warm and tired
and i truly haven't a fuck to give

melting into sofas
it doesnt matter what color
or who paid for them

glistening, when i close my eyes
it doesnt make a difference what i really look like

i wish you could be more supportive
but i feel like this is something most people go through
i feel like i feel this way more and more often these days
i feel like my parents and teachers would say that this is a good thing

i'm not so sure