ssiixx

sleeping pill but no sleep

2010-02-07T23:36:00.001-08:00

These robotocs do not define us, they do not eat away at the hand that made them unles they cause s to take steps back. A room made of balloons suspended a mile above the desert floor.A prison of balloons and a man bouncs from one side to another side and he is trapped but he is free and there is a stasis and safty but also violent praxis in shadows and drips that will explode and sieze your throat if you look at them and don't blink. He will never be free, he will be a short spectacle or trapped forever barred and boxed within the potential that would rage through and destroy him if you only asked, just whispered a thought and let it flow free down the glass to write words in the water.

And sandings, to rip off that which you felt in the hand and loved and believed in, the painting of all things one color so you never need be confused again. The wind will ruffle you when it comes from each window but not at the belt, this will rest as you're turned to glass and raised to meet the morning sun. A prizem.

It's slender and nice in a way a skeleton is disturbing, it negates your function for its own. Similarities yes but the primary effect leads back to chalk on stone and what I tried to tell you once when we sat in the water together, but instead the boy all alone heard it and knew that was the way all things should be but aren't. He carried it with him.

We freed them but they kept coming. It ate from my flesh and liked the taste for a snack but the window broke and I was pulled into the cold, into the stars and soft deadly snow that waited and watched me as I bled out for you. Nasty little boys take bites off and sometimes whole fingers and toes, they knock me down and I know how it is to be bruised but not beaten. My heart pumps to remind you that the only heart of mind you had was a stupid metaphor for your ability to destroy me that I loaned you and now need back as a reason to loathe you. But is there time? To trace fishhooks along old wounds until the stitches catch and ride these reigns to wherever pain was deserved but not delivered? Have we time for such divination, for such a worthy mission?

Or to bury it with more worthy scars, more worthy times, or even just times. Is it just the ending of a vision of a mask of banded iron set above all else, asking your worth. There is no capstone to all this, it lies open because all we can do is fit pieces similar to the voids torn from us in hopes the line will hold. Easy as breathing, easy as being alive.

Impossibly heavy and bronze, it means very little without the praxis we can give it.

Love letters

2010-01-22T03:18:00.002-08:00

We were different people, all of us. Sean, Dane, Cyle, all the people who meant so much or so little to me, who consumed my life and made me feel. When was I the rational one, now or then? When I let it wash over me and consume me like spinning in waves that break with me, losing myself to the liquid organic feeling, or now. Now the sterile, cold examination. The consumer, trying on each and leaving it on the floor to be picked up by some poor attendant of things not lost with no one to find them. Do you remember when you told me you loved me and I felt it, washed warm, almost hot through my body, electric sap pushing sticky through my veins and holding on? When it wasn't calculation, it was my nose under your chin against your neck, my arms holding your small body to me? When I let you have me and it meant my heart and soul, I gave it to you and breathed in each moment deep and sweet before I knew what bitter tasted like. My heart would burst open and I would do these things for you.

And now I sit back and revel in my coldness, how crass and detached I can be. I relate these leaps of faith, these quiet acts of love with a harsh voice, pick the shock and meat from the bone and throw the rest in a mute pile to rot. I'll hold aloft the pieces of power, the pornographic shadow left by your hands on my skin, and display it under the unforgiving light. You gave me that touch as a gift, and when I took it, it meant something. Now it sits on a shelf glassed over in amber and lifeless as an ancient butterfly, or perhaps a moth, it's hard to tell after so long. A piece in a game with no winners, just heartbeats and breaths and waking up again to this skin. The skin that meant something to you. But I don't measure these things in warm touches and acts of love any longer, I marvel at my steady hand. I measure these things by indifference to death, to resistance to loss. I count my victories in tears unshed, and cut cold razor sharp through the mess of sensation I once lost myself in.

Is it an expression of curiosity or brutality to become your own detached experiment?

We were different people, but I knew who I was then. It's hard to gauge that which is flawed but known against a cold, quiet unknown.

And now I hear you say it

2010-01-22T03:18:00.001-08:00

And I crave it because above all things, above all things it amuses me. And I cannot hope for more, but novelty.

Intense day

2009-09-21T23:07:00.001-07:00

So, today I woke up to a raging fire not very far from my house.

So, that was alarming. I went up on my roof and saw the fire was pretty goddamn close and there was ash and burning shit raining down on my house.

So, of course, Colin and went directly towards the flames with cameras in tow.

We jumped a fence and got very close to the fire, and got some really good shots.

Then the police discovered we were way too close to the fire and decided we needed to be mandatorily evacuated via the back of a police car.

I kept rolling and taking pictures as we were whisked out of the burn area.

We then got some distance and got some wider shots of the fire, which was dying down on the east side but still raging on the west side.

Then we found out there was not one, but TWO other fires burning in the area. The one in medford was even bigger and threatening more houses.

We weren't able to get close to that one, but jesus fucking christ it was an intense day.

Attn to: Cunt Bitch

2009-08-24T22:14:00.001-07:00

Joseph,

I did enjoy my time there a lot; Alex and especially yourself were very pleasant roommates and as I said I'm very sorry things got to this point. However, be things as they are, this is how I would like to see things go. Changing the locks, mailing my things, and paying for the locks and cleaning out of the security deposit is not acceptable or at all legal. I would like my security deposit back in full and the remainder of the month's rent. Depending on when you changed the locks that works out to around $200-250. Seeing as you essentially evicted me when the locks were changed, I think that's fair. I will come back for my things and car and be happy to give you any keys and the garage door opener, and that will be that.

Let me outline my reasoning behind this,

Entering my room without either providing 24 hours advanced notice or in the event of an emergency is against the law, specially Civil Code 1954, which states:

(a) A landlord may enter the dwelling unit only in the following cases:    (1) In case of emergency.    (2) To make necessary or agreed repairs, decorations, alterations or improvements, supply necessary or agreed services, or exhibit the dwelling unit to prospective or actual purchasers, mortgagees, tenants, workers, or contractors or to make an inspection pursuant to subdivision (f) of Section 1950.5.

Had the room been broken into or the condo been broken into, that would have constituted an emergency, however as that was no thecase entering the room in the first place without first asking is not only a violation of privacy but a violation of the law. In second, asking to pay for changing the locks out of my deposit is completely illegal. California Civil Code Section 789.3 states that:

(b) In addition, a landlord shall not, with intent to terminate the occupancy under any lease or other tenancy or estate at will, however created, of property used by a tenant as his or her residence, willfully:    (1) Prevent the tenant from gaining reasonable access to the property by changing the locks or using a bootlock or by any other similar method or device;    (2) Remove outside doors or windows; or    (3) Remove from the premises the tenant's personal property, the furnishings, or any other items without the prior written consent of the tenant, except when done pursuant to the procedure set forth in Chapter 5 (commencing with Section 1980) of Title 5 of Part 4 of Division 3.

 (c) Any landlord who violates this section shall be liable to the tenant in a civil action for all of the following:    (1) Actual damages of the tenant.    (2) An amount not to exceed one hundred dollars ($100) for each day or part thereof the landlord remains in violation of this section.  In determining the amount of such award, the court shall consider proof of such matters as justice may require; however, in no event shall less than two hundred fifty dollars ($250) be awarded for each separate cause of action.  Subsequent or repeated violations, which are not committed contemporaneously with the initial violation, shall be treated as separate causes of action and shall be subject to a separate award of damages.    (d) In any action under subdivision (c) the court shall award reasonable attorney's fees to the prevailing party.  In any such action the tenant may seek appropriate injunctive relief to prevent continuing or further violation of the provisions of this section during the pendency of the action.  The remedy provided by this section is not exclusive and shall not preclude the tenant from pursuing any other remedy which the tenant may have under any other provision of law.

My point being, not only is it completely improper to lock me out and then retroactively notify me, it is illegal. Asking me to pay you for essentially illegally evicting me is also not legal. In addition to this, it is against California Civil Code 1947 to evict me without providing 30 days notice via registered or certified mail, as is stated:

1946. A hiring of real property, for a term not specified by the parties, is deemed to be renewed as stated in Section

1945, at the end of the term implied by law unless one of the parties gives written notice to the other of his intention

to terminate the same, at least as long before the expiration thereof as the term of the hiring itself, not exceeding 30

days; provided, however, that as to tenancies from month to month either of the parties may terminate the same by

giving at least 30 days' written notice thereof at any time and the rent shall be due and payable to and including the

date of termination. It shall be competent for the parties to provide by an agreement at the time such tenancy is

created that a notice of the intention to terminate the same may be given at any time not less than seven days before

the expiration of the term thereof. The notice herein required shall be given in the manner prescribed in Section

1162 of the Code of Civil Procedure or by sending a copy by certified or registered mail addressed to the other

party. In addition, the lessee may give such notice by sending a copy by certified or registered mail addressed to the

agent of the lessor to whom the lessee has paid the rent for the month prior to the date of such notice or by

delivering a copy to the agent personally.

In regards to the cleaning costs, as you stated the things that needed to be dealt with were two pizza boxes, an apple in a trash bag, my clothing and a few used cups and silverware.This would have taken about 15-20 minutes for me to clean had I been given notice I was being evicted, and thus since I was given no opportunity to respond, prepare, or even know that the room was to be put in the condition to which it was rented to me, it is not my obligation financially to pay for it.

The way it breaks down is follows; on my side, I went on vacation, and then the day before returning, find out I'd been illegally evicted the previous week with no warning for the reason that my room was illegally entered and you were bothered by it being messy and having found shell casings I use to make belts for my brother's clothing company, all of which is legal. Overnight I'm suddenly homeless, and then I'm told that I am expected to essentially pay for the costs of being illegally evicted. I have no where to stay now in Los Angeles, so until I find a new apartment, which is a long, difficult, and annoying process, I am going to be living out of my car.

Legally, I can do the following things. As I have been living there for more then one month and receiving mail, I can not legally be evicted without going through the eviction process. This means that I have full legal right to enter and live there until I am legally evicted, which will be enforced by police (I had a friend who was on the other end of this situation, and the police are required by law to ensure I have access to my things and the room I have paid for). I am also entitled to $100 per day that the locks have been changed, with a minimum of $250 for changing them in the first place, as you can read in civil code section 789.3. That code also states I am entitled to sue for moving costs, lost revenue, attorneys fees, filing fees, and other damages. Those are my main legal options at the moment, however because four separate civil codes were violated, I do have more options.

Now, all that being said, I would like this to be a clean break and continue, as incredibly inconvenient as this is, without getting mired in this. As I said, all I am looking for is my security deposit in full and the remaining rent already paid for the month. I do not want to continue living there, even if I am legally obligated to, as it would be awkward, uncomfortable, and hostile. Regardless of that, I do recognize that essentially throwing me on the street with no notice is completely illegal and I will not under any circumstances pay for it out of my rent or security deposit. I'm really frustrated, stressed out and wanting to get out of this situation, despite the fact that the next few weeks are going to be a nightmare because of this and I have substantial legal rights in this situation.

As I said earlier, I would like to arrange to pick up my things, vehicle, security deposit and remaining rent and drop off the keys and garage opener, and then chalk this up to a mutual learning experience. I hope you will agree with this after carefully reading and let us both move forward from this. As I said, I very much enjoyed my time there, but I do know my rights and I absolutely will not both be illegally evicted AND pay for the experience.

Thank you,

-Kody

40 mile per hour FUPA

2009-07-29T08:42:00.001-07:00

A huge fat lady rear-ended me at a red light in her massive toyota tacoma. I hate toyota tacomas, I hate fat people, and I hate having the two slam into the back of my loyal, hardworking car. I spent the night in the ER. Cunt.

Los Angeles

2009-07-26T04:16:00.001-07:00

I'm here.

I'm watching Sphere in my apartment, is that queen latifah? Did she guest star in Sphere?

Whatever. I've been in LA for a few months now. OH SHIT, jelly fish are attacking queen latifah! Oh fuck, queen latifah just got eaten by jellyfish. That's embarrassing, they don't even have a central nervous system.

I lived in San Pedro for a month before I got tired of driving 80 miles each time I had a job interview. Now I live in koreatown. I've had my car stolen, recovered. And been drugged and almost robbed. LA is fucking insane. People are fucking insane. Power lines explode outside my window. Police surround my apartment. I get by, barely.

Such large changes

2009-03-21T07:02:00.001-07:00

So, so little time before it all breaks over.

A failed attempt

2009-03-16T19:26:00.001-07:00

Ideas for photoshoot:

1) things to convey, I am empty! There are no thoughts, just feelings and impulses that echo off walls of blood vessels. Electron currents, like flecks from sparklers burning down, such little things in control of such a large scope. It's a process, there is no mind to a sandstorm or the way the rain falls. Animals and machines are easy things, sometimes I feel more like one or the other. Humans think, I calculate. I think in sharp points, slice one in half and add up the pieces. I feel like a thing, an animal, more liquid in thought then the rigid confines of what "people" are can contain. This is not better, it is just messy. I can be poured, I suppose. I like sweet noises but they must change, constantly, or the machine in me ceases to find such patterns and rhythms and shapes amusing. None of these things are what I want to take pictures of because I don't want to take pictures right now. I want to be unconscious, mindless. I would like to break things down to simple pieces, but not set it up first. I am empty, I can't see forward and I won't look back, I hear a heartbeat and see this screen and the corner of SW clay and park. Stop. One Way. Expresso, Pastries, Fresh Juice, Sandwitches and Salads. College students walk by and it reminds me of when I was them and they weren't here and I was trying, really hard, to not be like I am now. I got stuck and just stayed, vibrating strong and clear but out of tune, out of chord. There is an emergency yellow light pulsing endlessly down the street, yellow, and I can't decide if it's driving me crazy of it I don't care about it in the slightest. Everything moves so slowly, is this productivity?

Dixheure

2009-01-29T10:06:00.001-08:00

I feel a soulless lack of self identity when I think of my past, my friends. It feels empty, like I cannot associate or identify myself with the person I was or people I used to be around. It's disturbing to be so different from who you used to be and realize you knew yourself back then and know so little about yourself now, even things a simple as where you came from and how you ended up here.

2008-12-31T00:52:00.001-08:00

You live strange lives

Nemesis

2008-12-14T05:58:00.001-08:00

So, I pull up to pick up Nigel and two of his friends, and I see four people approach the car. One person is obviously in his thirties and drunk. I can tell it's going to go well.

As soon as I pull up he starts ranting about how we're going downtown and how he's going to get us all high. I tell him I'm straightedge and that doesn't really appeal to me. I make a general announcement that there are about a thousand reasons that's not happening and that sixteen are right here, as I put a handgun on my belt and get out of the car. The guy starts telling me that our two options are to let him into my car or he's going to fight all of us and we're all going to go to jail.

I told him that's stupid because no one wants to go to jail but I'm not going fifteen minutes in the opposite direction to drop him off. He starts getting close to nigel and threatens to hit him. I start moving nigel's friends out of the way so I have a clear line of fire. The guy then tells us if we give him five dollars each he'll leave us alone. Nigel's friends walk off and I get Nigel in the front seat. I try to gracefully infourm the man that I won't be taking him, and he tells me he's going to break every window in my car. He then takes several menacing steps towords me and says something about "beating the shit out of you queers."

That was a mistake.

I hit him in the face with a combination of pepper spray and CS teargas. As he stumbled backwards, I came up and kicked him in the ass and then the face. "RUN MOTHERFUCKER." I shouted at him. "DO YOU WANT SOME FUCKING MORE? GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE OR I'LL GIVE YOU SOME FUCKING MORE." He continued to stumble around. He pulled his sweatshirt hood over his face and tried to stumble back at me, and I punched him in the face. As he staggered back, I rushed in and sprayed more pepper spray under his hood and into his face. I kicked him one more time and he sat down abruptly.

I was a little carried away at this point, got back in my car, and saw him get up and try to stagger back towards us. I gunned the engine and tried to sideswipe him, but he was up on a curb so instead I put on my brights and honked for a minuite, which made him stumble and fall back down. We then drove off.

Twenty minuites later, he and a bunch of cholos in a dodge charger saw us and tried to chase us down. I out-combat-drove them in a 93 geo prism and lost them in about 45 seconds.

And tonight was a good night.

ich

2008-12-13T14:02:00.001-08:00

I keep a hard heart. I keep a safe heart. I keep a heart like a complicated equasion, two, three, four steps removed from the touch of reality and buried in supposition, cause and effect, action and reaction. There is little touch, and the caress that brings most hearts up or down is ones and zeros to me. It is factored in. It is tabulated and compared and theorized and then gains meaning through the strange series of cause and effect that has been proven to me over time. If they are interested in you, it is probably insincere unless they want to sleep with you. If they want to sleep with you, they will not want to do so more then once. There is something wrong with me. I am fading. If they touch you, it means that in that moment, you are okay. When you touch me it is cold. The impulse must creep from one equation to the next, finding context, meaning, through these things until it affects my world. These is a steep divide between physicality and reality for me. I do not trust intentions.

2008-12-03T00:45:00.001-08:00

breathing down my neck

I am not

2008-12-02T16:14:00.001-08:00

I am no one to balk at the odds, declare a miracle of unlikely things. I see them every day, I live them, I am an unlikely thing. To find love, or animosity, or anguish, or any strong emotion across the cold void is not so much remarkable as inevitable, as I see it. We crave it, we hunt it and seek it, so why be so surprised when we find it?

I can't focus. I'm disgusted by my lifestyle.

2008-11-23T16:41:00.001-08:00

It's quiet. I don't like quiet. I speak and nothing echos back. When it's too quiet, I move. I transition from place to place.
I remind myself that stability is just a thing, a goal but not an absolute attachment to good. Stability is like chaos, an adjective to a situation, not the definition of it.
I don't have a lot of people. Sometimes I told myself, people matter. Not the classical kind of success. I do it for people. But now I don't have even that.
I'm tasting that success, that I lacked, that I gave up for him or anyone else. It's ok. It's stable. But I'm still unhappy.
There is no greater purpose, there is no plan. There is no future. I'm numb to most things but surviving and not surviving.

I cannot feel my fingers as I type, it's familiar. Portland is so easy, a game I figured out and play from time to time just because it's nice to win, even if there's no prize. I've been changing myself. I hate myself. I find nothing worthwhile or attractive or particularly interesting about myself. I derive all my self worth by the approval or disapproval of other people. Approval makes me feel okay for about ten minutes, max. Disapproval haunts me for weeks. I give myself away because I don't give a fuck, let alone value myself.

I care in jagged little pieces. I give them to people and they scratch when moved against my skin. I care for only people who don't care much for me. Never people who love me. That annoys me. I give little pieces of a greater love reserved to whores and mindless automatons of flesh. I don't know why. I look for approval and love in the most base, unlikely places and crumble a little more as I confirm its absence. I only find feeling in rejection. Am I that desperate for sensation? Now I cannot feel my whole hands, from the fingers to the joints to the palms. My fingers are like cold sticks on the keyboard, stiff and unresponsive. It is familiar.

It is tricky to untangle these things. Stability, chaos, familiarity, progress. What is right, what is just a reaction. I don't have the time, the thought. I am.

ich

2008-11-21T19:53:00.001-08:00

Evolving backwards to what I want to be, degenerating mentally as I develop physically. Degeneration.

What a night.

2008-10-26T04:31:00.001-07:00

So.

I park to go to a party, this woman in an SUV parks across the street and glares at us. As she comes out, Nigel asks her if she happens to have an extra cigarette. She replies no and then asks if we can happen to "move our fucking car." Nigel says no, sorry. She then flips the fuck out and calls us drunk assholes. I tell her I don't drink.

She responds by calling us all sorts of nasty names, to which I replied that she's a fucking bitch and she can go choke on a dick. She says she's going to go get her husband. I tell her she's a twat. She goes inside.

I check back on my car 5 minutes later and the husband starts knocking on the window of their house. I tell nigel not to look at him. Nigel waves to them. The man emerges from the house with a golf club and runs at us saying "THAT'S IT I'M GOING TO BEAT YOUR ASSES YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKERS."

He hits the hood of my car with the golf club, causing a small dent.
This is a mistake.

I pull out my Bersa Thunder .380 and chamber a round, commenting "Back the fuck off, motherfucker. Back off right fucking now. Get the fuck away from my car."

The man runs back into the yard, but the woman freaks out and demands I shoot her. I tell her she's a dumb cunt and tell Nigel to get in the car. They scramble to try to get my licence plate. As I shut my door to drive off, I tell them:

"You two are fucking lucky."

Then, we drive seven blocks, call the police, file a report, and had them arrested.

End of night.

2008-09-25T01:46:00.001-07:00

I have become a conquistador.

It is no longer a question of love. It is not a question of attraction or matches or things falling into place. These things do not fall like paper cranes, they are placed, carefully, for you to see. They are a roadmap. They are markers leading you to the place I want you. And you'll discover them, little love, as if by an accident and revel in the perfection of chance. Of fate. But fate has no hold over me and my affairs, I make a point of it.

No, it's not about love. Not anymore. This is revenge, preemptive and generalized to an extreme. Do you think I like you, your touch, your flirting and your compliments? Do you think my reciprocation in flirting means I accept you, I want you, I even like you? Do you think that, at the very least, it means I want you like you want me? No, I can't. I don't. What I am saying to you with my careful smile, my kind words and my flesh beneath your skin, so loud that I fear you will sense it beneath the thin layer of skin beneath which it boils in my blood, is simple. I hate you. I hate you and I want to punish you, not just for what you do and might do to me, but for who you are. I loathe every inch of you, every breath, every word you speak makes me twist up inside more with revulsion. I know you. I know what you want. I know what you are and what you do and, oh, I am so tired of it.

Let me explain my attraction to you, if you choose to call it that. I want to have you in the palm of my hand and then I want to throw you away. I want you to call me. I want you to miss me and not miss you. I want you to become pathetic for me, overtly. I want you to have something you want and have it taken away from you. I want this from you because so many times it happens to me. There is no future to this, no kind ending. There is only me getting what I want, or me not getting what I want.

Not with the innocent, I am afraid to touch good people anymore for fear of leaving stains. But you. Yes, you. I'll touch you, rake with my fingernails and leave marks on you. I know the song by heart and I can sing it convincingly, even as it grows tired and common. I do it out of hate, the ion of sadness that's burned and burned and become energized to a state of praxis. There is only one escape, one weakness, to this blind brutality. I shouldn't tell you, but I will. When I meet you, I want you, I do want you. That is the only time I want anything from me or that you can do anything for me. It's that need that's the only power a boy can have over me. If he pulls away before I have him, there is an echo of hurt that ripples through me. I'll want you more then any other, I'll follow you. I'll entice you. I'll do what I can and what I have to to have you. If you stay away, you'll always have power over me. You'll never be a broken product of my revenge, tainted in my own eyes.

Conquistador, I'll slash and burn through them. I do not want to love you, I want you to love me and hurt. It makes me less sad, because when you're hurting I'm not alone. I am your intangible, I am the myth you can't quite lay to rest. I breathe life into it and leave it looming before you, cowering you into my hand. Herr god, Herr lucifer, beware, beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair, and I eat men like air.

I like how I think I'm really really funny

2008-08-31T01:02:00.001-07:00

And most people just react to it with intense hostility. DONT CARE.

YOU. LOOK. LIKE. JIMMY. NEUTRON.
And I don't care if you get mad at me for pointing it out, scene boy.

Don't invite me to your parties

2008-07-27T05:15:00.000-07:00

I don't drink or do drugs, so to amuse myself at parties one of my recent hobbies has been to try to make the absolute worst possible impression on people I haven't met. The worst.

So without further delay, this is what I did tonight.

This is apparently what I'd look like if I picked up 15 year old prostitutes and went to bro parties after doing rails off their boners. Cool.

PS I'd never met the boy in most of the pictures before tonight and I don't know how he ended up on my lap, but he was rad.

fury

2008-07-15T09:29:00.000-07:00

Looks can be deceiving

V

2008-07-14T05:31:00.000-07:00

The difference between love and everything else is that love defies that which we hate about the world around us. Love does not suddenly die. It does not vanish when we need it. It lives in the back of our minds when we are alone. It can be trusted when nothing else can, it is a path straight through the defenses and mistrust and suspicion and apprehension and uncertainty that makes speaking or trusting or even dealing with other people so complicated. It is logical simplicity in a world of duplicity. It is to know when you go to sleep that you are watched over endlessly and benevolently by someone.

And the hardest part of love is when you can't stop ignoring the lessons of everything else and begin to realize that no, maybe it isn't absolute after all. Things are connected by strings. Gravity binds things together closely, absolutely, invisibly and perpetually. But these strings can be stretched, pulled, and eventually broken when they reach their limit. After that there is no string, no bond, just empty space between two dissociated objects. There is no evidence to suggest they ever coexisted, only the cold action of physics that drew them apart.

And you, I'd breathe. In spite and hatred and violence there was always my family. Weak, strong, there was no difference for once. For once it was all safe, for once someone didn't let me go. I could seek solace without sacrificing my pride. Maybe these things exist only in mutual suffering, and vanish like shadows in the light of content. Maybe we are only family in the discontent that runs through our veins, half removed again when the wounds start to heal. I am hard. I am unfriendly and hostile. I have contempt. I have bitterness. I have vendettas of pride and spite and small insults. But it was never the same rules, pour toi. Je pourrais regarde 200 garçons meurent sans le blesse que te regarder pleurer me fait sentir. Est-ce tu devenir un garçon comme un autre, encore et pour le dernier fois?

mast

2008-07-14T05:28:00.000-07:00

Tension. I don't mind that the strings get tighter and tighter with time. It's only that which allows them to vibrate louder and louder and drown out anything but the chaos. Discord. This is what it's like to live a life disjointed in full bloom. Potential wide-eyed, praxis scattered. I've traveled over a thousand miles in the last week. Why? To feel, the pursuit of feeling. To be struck down again while seeking the thought and feeling that someone gives a fuck about me. Here, there, under rocks and on beds and beaches and fountains and concrete and across oceans and states and miles and hundreds of dollars I look to feel slightly less alone. To feel cared for. To feel like I have some semblance of family. To hold on to the human half, the right to be weak, the right to be treated like a person rather then a novelty.

I feel like I'm standing very very high and the wind is blasting my hair back and making my eyes water and blowing everything from my hands and pockets and leaving me grasping. I am falling. I am. I am winding down. This is a last push, the way things stand. This is a press of dwindling strength, pitifully unfocused for a final strike. I have no great loves to fight for, only bitter hurts turned to bitter hatreds and sad scars to avenge. No great stories anymore. Resentment. I begin to treat my friends like enemies for marring the trust and faith and emotion I give to them.

You give up the right to be close with someone when you go away a lot. I go away a lot. And when I end up screaming and begging and clawing to speak and be heard and feel human again I find I am a piece. A novelty. Everyone has cashed in their faith in me. There is no one to choose me. There is no one to believe in me. I am central to no one's lives, I am close to no one's heart, I am small. A small piece that comes to bear as an amusement, a crutch, an angel sent by god to protect you in your times of need, requiring no thanks or reciprocation because that's my fucking job. I am self-sacrificing charity.

It's bent. I can't stand anyone because I know how this ends. I know and anticipate that feeling of wounded trust or of being shoved aside or passed over or forgotten. I don't want to care, I don't want reminders that embarrass me of caring for anyone ever because whatever I did and whatever I was and am is never enough.

I am becoming self destructive. I don't even feel the need to document the absolute insanity I brush against on a daily basis anymore and don't care if it's the last time I get away with it. It's not for attention because no one cares. It's for me. It amuses me. It's the only thing that amuses me, watching it finish bending and break. Someone offered to sell me a grenade, several for the right price.

To raise the day from nothing to the greatest, to wrench the day from the greatest to the lowest.

2008-07-05T16:23:00.001-07:00

No one should have this power over me.