hello velvet city, here we begin:
ice cream
half-assed resistor. owner of a cat. hates breakfast. deleted by the groan, for a while.
"if i took drugs would you understand me? IF I TOOK A LOT OF DRUGS THEN WOULD YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
the cat
as of yet unnamed. often found around the neck of ice cream. leads how and tinker out of velvet city after ice cream gets groaned.
gum
tries to cook breakfast.
tinker
pigtailed little inventor. specializes in pipe bombery.
how
skeletal and miserable, nubby. found at the arms store. finds ice cream during/immediately after groaning.
"two thumbs, can you even imagine?"
"doctor"
unnamed as of yet. lives on the outskirts of velvet city. feeds ice cream a lot of hard-boiled eggs.
the groan
wide-eyed instrument of ennui. mouthless? converts velvet city into murmurs. calls ice cream "his funny".
murmurs
groanlings. barely sentient.
May 28, 2010
March 8, 2010
this one is called "churches"
Recall that darkness:
it was a terrible,
made distance
in which I only
thought your shape.
Until I forgot
what was your voice,
or why. Until
we had a talk.
I said many
very important-
sounding things,
I said nothing.
“I will never have a
child, only dogs.”
I broke a glass
in trying to break
you. “Please just
let me break you.”
That wasn’t said but
how I wanted to
the most, then,
as for you, I
could only listen
through a wall,
(Oh, the distance.)
chiseled, bristling
with white paint.
This is a great
mystic dread:
that for the paint
I will forget you.
it was a terrible,
made distance
in which I only
thought your shape.
Until I forgot
what was your voice,
or why. Until
we had a talk.
I said many
very important-
sounding things,
I said nothing.
“I will never have a
child, only dogs.”
I broke a glass
in trying to break
you. “Please just
let me break you.”
That wasn’t said but
how I wanted to
the most, then,
as for you, I
could only listen
through a wall,
(Oh, the distance.)
chiseled, bristling
with white paint.
This is a great
mystic dread:
that for the paint
I will forget you.
March 5, 2010
December 30, 2009
a complete account of my life, my own entire life
ca. 1992
Sang in the car, nearly caused a crash to us.
ca. 1993
Fell in the pool. Water gloved my lungs and for minutes I thought I might end now. I remember some hand, not sure whose.
ca. 1994
Choked on a glove. Choked on ice from a glove.
ca. 1994
Woke up from a booth dream. In the dream I had faded: I woke up face down and smothered. I had nearly fallen asleep in that dream. I remember thinking "that was close".
ca. 1995
Fell from a tree.
ca. June–August 1995
Imagined a soldier, shot a real gun to made music. Nearly struck by birds.
ca. December 1995
Bit in the eye by the dog. Dad bit the dog back, sort of.
ca. January 1996
Got shocked by the wall trying to plug in the television, watch the fuzzy colours in there. Instead they were in me; I saw them for a second, the ceiling hours later.
ca. April 1996
Noticed we had an attic: what a serious door.
ca. November 1996
Dove under Dad's car, got scolded.
ca. spring 1997
Caught my first glimpse of a naked woman.
ca. summer 1997
Caught my first glimpse of a naked woman that wasn't Mom.
ca. fall 1998–spring 1999
Learned a lot about octopi.
ca. April 1999
Flew low with weird wings; woke up.
ca. August 2000
Broke the back door. Dad broke a mirror at me later.
ca. September 2000
Tried hard to keep beat with adults. Cried a lot, at first.
(incomplete)
Sang in the car, nearly caused a crash to us.
ca. 1993
Fell in the pool. Water gloved my lungs and for minutes I thought I might end now. I remember some hand, not sure whose.
ca. 1994
Choked on a glove. Choked on ice from a glove.
ca. 1994
Woke up from a booth dream. In the dream I had faded: I woke up face down and smothered. I had nearly fallen asleep in that dream. I remember thinking "that was close".
ca. 1995
Fell from a tree.
ca. June–August 1995
Imagined a soldier, shot a real gun to made music. Nearly struck by birds.
ca. December 1995
Bit in the eye by the dog. Dad bit the dog back, sort of.
ca. January 1996
Got shocked by the wall trying to plug in the television, watch the fuzzy colours in there. Instead they were in me; I saw them for a second, the ceiling hours later.
ca. April 1996
Noticed we had an attic: what a serious door.
ca. November 1996
Dove under Dad's car, got scolded.
ca. spring 1997
Caught my first glimpse of a naked woman.
ca. summer 1997
Caught my first glimpse of a naked woman that wasn't Mom.
ca. fall 1998–spring 1999
Learned a lot about octopi.
ca. April 1999
Flew low with weird wings; woke up.
ca. August 2000
Broke the back door. Dad broke a mirror at me later.
ca. September 2000
Tried hard to keep beat with adults. Cried a lot, at first.
(incomplete)
um, circles and squares
another dream about the vanishing back of you; i have been thinking about words, i have been thinking about how we are a good fit
December 26, 2009
old notebooks pt. 2: hood rat
my mind bends and splashes like water would. it's empty, like water seems when viewed at from up above but in all actuality it's fraught with action, the water in a pond or a river that is.
my mind is like that, i'd like to think. though to be fair, i am arrogant, a lion, a creature who lives in a region mostly devoid of it, or i am thinking of something else.
i go constructing little links via electric synapse or microtubule. there's water, it seems, in all sorts of places in your body: cut it up and see for yourself. all six-segmented me with a shiny spinal core, i am a fragmented apple.
close your eyes and see red in the sunlight. i learned colours doing the kindergarten clock dash across my mother's floor, leaning back in my precarious chair, leaving half-circle moons in the hardwood. the stairs up to the attic were very narrow i remember, only room for half of one of my four year old feet. there wasn't much to see up there; our family isn't much for memory.
we had marmalade summers and kept up cozy winters. i remember building snowmans alone on the goodbye street, the one where dad would leave forever for work until night--snowmen all sad and grey from the grime on the pavement. the snowman was more gravel than snow, man.
with giddy orbits i would venture into the forest and drink with cupped palms from fetid pools of still water. with giddy orbits all the weird creatures would trace sick circles in my stomach and i would throw up in the middle of tick-tock park.
they made voices at night and one mean evening they toppled down to get me.
those plaid cobblestones were ingrained in my memory as the place where i did things with a lifelong significance unbefitting to such a small person. there were two; they were bad things.
those nights spoke monobone creatures like stick insects, they were all one bone, resting in the knots of trees they meld with the trees, bone on bark and i'm sure they feel real smug in their safety. underneath the tree barrow they hide teeth bared and eyes aglow with a thirsty light, like they want to drink up the moon and never stop drinking until the moon is all gone, the marrow out of it, and the tree is bone too: the bugs were bone, the road is bone and i am bone, everything is bone, everything might as well be one bone.
my mind is like that, i'd like to think. though to be fair, i am arrogant, a lion, a creature who lives in a region mostly devoid of it, or i am thinking of something else.
i go constructing little links via electric synapse or microtubule. there's water, it seems, in all sorts of places in your body: cut it up and see for yourself. all six-segmented me with a shiny spinal core, i am a fragmented apple.
close your eyes and see red in the sunlight. i learned colours doing the kindergarten clock dash across my mother's floor, leaning back in my precarious chair, leaving half-circle moons in the hardwood. the stairs up to the attic were very narrow i remember, only room for half of one of my four year old feet. there wasn't much to see up there; our family isn't much for memory.
we had marmalade summers and kept up cozy winters. i remember building snowmans alone on the goodbye street, the one where dad would leave forever for work until night--snowmen all sad and grey from the grime on the pavement. the snowman was more gravel than snow, man.
with giddy orbits i would venture into the forest and drink with cupped palms from fetid pools of still water. with giddy orbits all the weird creatures would trace sick circles in my stomach and i would throw up in the middle of tick-tock park.
they made voices at night and one mean evening they toppled down to get me.
those plaid cobblestones were ingrained in my memory as the place where i did things with a lifelong significance unbefitting to such a small person. there were two; they were bad things.
those nights spoke monobone creatures like stick insects, they were all one bone, resting in the knots of trees they meld with the trees, bone on bark and i'm sure they feel real smug in their safety. underneath the tree barrow they hide teeth bared and eyes aglow with a thirsty light, like they want to drink up the moon and never stop drinking until the moon is all gone, the marrow out of it, and the tree is bone too: the bugs were bone, the road is bone and i am bone, everything is bone, everything might as well be one bone.
December 12, 2009
have you seen the girl?
repeat after this: i am an island because.
i did not speak for hours because an island is silent and does not speak.
i did not stop and think about it because an island does not stop and think about it, it is mainly busy with being an island.
instead i searched for the prettiest face, because an island is ultimately concerned with boasting having the prettiest face.
i am an island, at once violent and alliterative. i will move or i will sink.
i am a planet.
i swell and groan because i am like a planet uniquely gravitied. i am probably the sum of all my distance and the distance of that which is close or moves close to me.
i am a far planet and therefore the glub and or swirl of my planet is harsh.
i am a planet because like a planet i will become heated, i will become glass and as glass i will shatter.
i did not speak for hours because an island is silent and does not speak.
i did not stop and think about it because an island does not stop and think about it, it is mainly busy with being an island.
instead i searched for the prettiest face, because an island is ultimately concerned with boasting having the prettiest face.
i am an island, at once violent and alliterative. i will move or i will sink.
i am a planet.
i swell and groan because i am like a planet uniquely gravitied. i am probably the sum of all my distance and the distance of that which is close or moves close to me.
i am a far planet and therefore the glub and or swirl of my planet is harsh.
i am a planet because like a planet i will become heated, i will become glass and as glass i will shatter.
December 8, 2009
December 1, 2009
call to dive
nowadays my world seems so small i feel i could fit it onto a piece of paper (or twenty).
November 29, 2009
old notebooks pt. 1
posting the contents of old notebooks just to have them; notebooks get lost easy. no one really reads this anyway
cardboard, bound with brass; indiscriminate stain on cover outlined in pen
circa spring '09, probably
most of this is prompted
---
1.
a featherfall into semi-consciousness
like, ambling/limping into hypnogogia
suddenly, slowly, yr thoughts just
fuckin' turn to images while you
lie there restless, beastly dead.
realize that when yr sight goes
cobalt that you are undergoing this
metempsychosis of yrself in which
everything you subconsciously grapple
w/ is suddenly eraserhead 2, or
some thing equally as tempestuous.
2.
KILL HIM INTO A BETTER GUY
I AM NOT RUNNING
"HEY! COME DOWN FROM THERE!"
..I AM NOT RUNNING
....I AM NOT RUNNING
......I AM NOT RUNNING
BY SUCH
3.
slant, soon heavy w/ conversation
we watch as the dull grey wing of some bird
obliquely slices thru a span insistent upon its blue
deft; accusatory.....the
coffee is grey too.....we know that
he masturbated that morning
4.
CLOSE CIRCUIT CAMERAS
brick walls, a square of clear blue
sky, two laughing gulls, marbled pink
bouncy ball, brown/grey carpet w/
cigarette burns, candleholder/ashtray
full of tar/rainwater, used condom in
the trashcan, stolen black beanie w/
hole at the top, a cockatiel, sun-
glasses, boxing glove, digital
camera, a human-sized indent in the
bushes, garden hose, black cloak,
half a face face split in half one
speaking one's mouth moving, ironic
sneer, purple shirt, yellow shirt,
same shirt from last night, same
pants every day, acid stomach, twitching
eye/chest/legs, sleeping pills, half
a day gone before you even realize
it, thought i was dying, knew i
was dying, throat tight, sleep
forever, may pretty horses come to
you before you wake
5.
TIME
6.
They dreamt wan of horses, truncating,
their legs were ornamented. they
came on decanted shells. Evangeline
sewed her dog an asshole (entirely
abnormal). its head begged the tail
"do not leave me alone
with this thing unless no
alternatives exist
cardboard, bound with brass; indiscriminate stain on cover outlined in pen
circa spring '09, probably
most of this is prompted
---
1.
a featherfall into semi-consciousness
like, ambling/limping into hypnogogia
suddenly, slowly, yr thoughts just
fuckin' turn to images while you
lie there restless, beastly dead.
realize that when yr sight goes
cobalt that you are undergoing this
metempsychosis of yrself in which
everything you subconsciously grapple
w/ is suddenly eraserhead 2, or
some thing equally as tempestuous.
2.
KILL HIM INTO A BETTER GUY
I AM NOT RUNNING
"HEY! COME DOWN FROM THERE!"
..I AM NOT RUNNING
....I AM NOT RUNNING
......I AM NOT RUNNING
BY SUCH
3.
slant, soon heavy w/ conversation
we watch as the dull grey wing of some bird
obliquely slices thru a span insistent upon its blue
deft; accusatory.....the
coffee is grey too.....we know that
he masturbated that morning
4.
CLOSE CIRCUIT CAMERAS
brick walls, a square of clear blue
sky, two laughing gulls, marbled pink
bouncy ball, brown/grey carpet w/
cigarette burns, candleholder/ashtray
full of tar/rainwater, used condom in
the trashcan, stolen black beanie w/
hole at the top, a cockatiel, sun-
glasses, boxing glove, digital
camera, a human-sized indent in the
bushes, garden hose, black cloak,
half a face face split in half one
speaking one's mouth moving, ironic
sneer, purple shirt, yellow shirt,
same shirt from last night, same
pants every day, acid stomach, twitching
eye/chest/legs, sleeping pills, half
a day gone before you even realize
it, thought i was dying, knew i
was dying, throat tight, sleep
forever, may pretty horses come to
you before you wake
5.
TIME
6.
They dreamt wan of horses, truncating,
their legs were ornamented. they
came on decanted shells. Evangeline
sewed her dog an asshole (entirely
abnormal). its head begged the tail
"do not leave me alone
with this thing unless no
alternatives exist
October 20, 2009
October 14, 2009
note to self circa summer oh six
1) don't nurse it
2) be slow
3) don't curse it
4) be soft
expect to be stretched
2) be slow
3) don't curse it
4) be soft
expect to be stretched
October 13, 2009
September 29, 2009
reasons on how to live pt. 2
the fear at the heart of the thing is:
a) the crawl will swallow me before i've had a chance at my everything, everyone or no
b) that the everyone, after having quickly put out my eyes and mind, will have done it better
a) the crawl will swallow me before i've had a chance at my everything, everyone or no
b) that the everyone, after having quickly put out my eyes and mind, will have done it better
reasons on how to live
look at what you do, everyone has done that, everyone has done what you do, everything you have done has been done, everyone knows what you have done, how you have done it, everyone, everyone, how do you do, everyone is one, you are everyone
September 10, 2009
the forest from when you were a kid
they pushed from underneath . . they climbed on top like treehouses
they said . . find a hammer and a nail
they said stick her there where it's always half-sleep
she drove a car out to die looking for the deep place
her eyes were dogs for it
she thought . . gotta get get get me back
she laughed like wood on wood
she ate to feel the break in her
they said . . find a hammer and a nail
they said stick her there where it's always half-sleep
she drove a car out to die looking for the deep place
her eyes were dogs for it
she thought . . gotta get get get me back
she laughed like wood on wood
she ate to feel the break in her
September 8, 2009
follow the dot
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press planet dad press
September 2, 2009
ok city
i am tired of being me i am tired of being this lonely, unhappy adult i am tired of feeling stressed out i am tired of that feeling, the feeling of missing 'something' i am tired of missing out i am tired of feeling heartsick i am tired of my throat and my mouth and my eyes and my eyes are tired
i am tired of only writing about it in this blog
i want to scream it out but my chest is tight and my words come out small, if at all
i am tired and i never want to sleep, always want to sleep
i am tired of only writing about it in this blog
i want to scream it out but my chest is tight and my words come out small, if at all
i am tired and i never want to sleep, always want to sleep
August 31, 2009
shakey eyes
I take my fingers and run them down the shape of you, trace cigarette smoke on you, let it seep in you and make your eyes shake from it. This happens only in my mind and I open my own eyes and they focus too slowly; my gaze dips to my groin and I am gripping myself in my palm.
"What are you doing in there."
"Nothing. I'm reading."
I finish myself off and then send a text message back to my mom saying "everything is ok. busy."
She passes me as I walk out of the bathroom. "Were you masturbating."
"No." I lick my fingers as if this was proof that I didn't. She raises her eyebrow at me, just one eyebrow; I watch her do this and I see her eyes and they don't shake under the weight of her beautiful, heavy eyelids. As she shuts the door to the bathroom behind her I see traces of cigarette smoke trailing across and over her arm.
I look in her room while she is in the bathroom, I look at her bed and there is a man in her bed. The room smells ugly, the air in it tastes like my hand did and I know this is because they fucked.
"What are you doing in there."
"Nothing. I'm reading."
I finish myself off and then send a text message back to my mom saying "everything is ok. busy."
She passes me as I walk out of the bathroom. "Were you masturbating."
"No." I lick my fingers as if this was proof that I didn't. She raises her eyebrow at me, just one eyebrow; I watch her do this and I see her eyes and they don't shake under the weight of her beautiful, heavy eyelids. As she shuts the door to the bathroom behind her I see traces of cigarette smoke trailing across and over her arm.
I look in her room while she is in the bathroom, I look at her bed and there is a man in her bed. The room smells ugly, the air in it tastes like my hand did and I know this is because they fucked.
August 23, 2009
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