Love and the pursuit of happiness

The greatness of lovers outweigh the tragedy of the mundane.
Smiles override tears, while passion pervades weakness.
Strength climbs in every pore saying yes yes, i've found you with a declarative kiss.


If I'm dreaming don't wake me up

Collision of caution

well, hello dear non-existent audience, it's been a while. I have been busy, very busy, but for all the good reasons and I am very happy. The temptress of time has seduced me, taken me over, I am getting stronger, more mature, I feel a change, there is light behind my eyes again, not a flashy old motel 'vacant' sign.

incredible.

life can be really amazing, and I am trying to keep my head up and keep it that way. hopefully more writings soon, but I hope you can see this smile.

The Sex of Secrets

hearts race as breath quickens, the new touch dissolves into fingerprints, tainting the pure skin which was absolved of all its lies. the soul sighs mercilessly in joy, finally being touched, don't stop, don't stop, not now....cement this moment of verity, tell me it's real.

Ease of ashes

"Who will save us...your smile is on fire....still my heart will let you down....everyone in this room they got troubles too, secret stories of lives that we never knew...."

My new poppy delight! Oh my god, I could just bob my head, sucking on lolipops smiling to this shit.

But my favorite lyric..."why is it that two people can't feel the same way at the same time"

http://www.thesubmarines.com/

I saw the Cure last night. Wine. Robert Smith. Sad emo...hot friend. Love love all around. The most beautiful thing I saw was this lesbian couple and one of the girls took her gf's hand and raised it, and said "I am marrying this woman!"...I don't particularly believe in marriage as an institution, but this was a great moment to witness. Pure love and passion.

I miss that. I can wait.

One heart to break...many to fizzle...does someone have any glue?

"Everyday we wake up, we choose love, we choose light...."

I will try, thank you Submarines.

The best thing that never happened to me

I thought this was different. Isn't that what we all say, all the time. 'This time it's different' and when the same shit happens, we are cursing ourselves, why, why, why, the interrogative why mocks any semblance of rationality and sanity. I followed my heart. I followed it so far, I fell over, encapsulated by the lens, until I saw him leaving the frame, oh wait, that's not the frame, that's my life, he is leaving my life, at least I have a picture. A picture that he was here. We were here, there was something, I didn't make it up, not this time, even though I do dream about it. Let's go back to pretend, I am sick of reality, let's just go back to making pretty pictures. I can pretend to be pretty and put on a nice face, it will all work out. And I am not jealous one bit despite my green face. I don't hear anything. Your silence speaks volumes. I fell in love with your strories and you with my words, but they are all substitutes for what we really are.

You will never know the essence of me, because you never reached out to touch it. Sitting here stewing in my own thoughts, curdling rotten things making milk out of love.

I want something that I can never have. I have set myself up for the eternal dissapointment. And there is no one else to blame because i positioned myself in such a way, the story had made itself before I even entered it. So perfect. So perfucked. It's like it never happened. We can erase any mirage that it did. But you can't take away the picture. For one moment, you were honest.

Left with pixels and words to swim with and cuddle at night.

Dissected Beauty

and sometimes this is exactly how I feel.

As it were

wonderful wetness inspiring streams of strain, amidst the pain of attachment, the caress spills over to the rational...assuage me, mollify me....the cuddles cadence, muffles that voice.

thank you. a hand, a touch, a love, a something, a kiss, a something. it all means nothing but it means everything colliding into space of molecular insignia.

kisses for that memory and longing for it to come back.

Dinner of Pimps: an anecdote

He did it. He really did it.

So I met a painter a couple weeks ago at this really rad show. He had tater tots near his work, and I was so happy, blown away, oddly interested that someone would have tater tots as a snack near their art. We get to chatting and I say, "this is awesome. You have tater tots! This is dinner of pimps man!"...he said, "what did you say?"..."I said, this is dinner of pimps, I mean come on, fucking tater tots for dinner."

He said, "that is brilliant, I want to make a painting out of it, with neon colors, and tater tots, that says dinnner of pimps!"...weird where inspiration comes from.

me: "oh my god, do it, it will be hilarious"

him: "for sure"

now maybe I am skeptical, or just have had enough people say things they don't really mean or know that people don't often follow through (seriously lacking in the human race), but he fucking did it. He just sent me a picture on the phone...

this is good, because my lack of sleep, and not yet sleeping and thinking was depressing me...it is nice to know some people do what they say they will. and find little crazy phrase laden minds sexy and make paintings out of.

YES!

Places, Faces, Suitcases

I think the best places to people watch are bars, airports and parks. I cannot wait for San Fran in a little over a week. Next week will be crazy good. I have been so productive today, I feel good.

People are so inherently interesting and complex...seems like I have met a slew of new people lately, all of which are very interesting and interconnected.

I feel like dancing in my underwear...maybe I will.

Exuding Extremes

Phantom rings of phones and things, the besot mess of this bliss, kiss, abyss into the ditch of power. Submerged, submissive in the blind looking for the kind, where are you, searching for two, maybe three, drink glee, jump happy, quick snappy, you don't respond, restless, joyless, passionless, more less. Grinding down shades of gray into crumbs, particles of past pictures present, molecules of movement managing the menace, filling in the empty holes with spackle. Strength pervades weakness, one point for me, you lose, I am lost, it's a play can't you see? Stuck in traffic on the freeway of desire, you fucking liar, hold me, mold me, whatever you want I have.

Red Tape

Hold on
One moment
Someone will be right with you
May I help you?
Please sign here
You forgot this part
Oh, you're in the wrong place
Who are you here to see?
We don't do that
Let me call someone that might know what you're talking about
This will take two weeks
We don't give out that information
Please hold, the line is busy
Wait time, 10 minutes
All lines are STILL busy, wait time 30 minutes
You've reached the wrong number
Who is this?
Ummm....
well let me refer you....


Current thoughts:
Frustration with school systems, medical offices, all bureaucratic institutions
Monogamy, politics, sex-- Eliot Spitzer-- who the fuck would pay up to 80 grand for pussy?! What a spectacle that story is.
Claritin D will mess up your brain and heart rate!
Being quasi-sick, but ok is a damn nuisance.
Air is good.
Sometimes I want to be a cat.

Muted Fracture

"The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it"

Nothing left but empty minds and rotten hearts. Bloodless bodies baking in their own sin.

Fallible

I am getting caught up, caught in, sucked up, sucked in, dried out. I fell for it, then fell over, then bent over and it was all over. Goodbye forgiveness, hello sunshine, I still feel the stubble on your skin. Move me, make me move, immobile in heart, luminous in stature, I don't make sense. Do you want to come here? Join the party. It's fun I promise.

I'm getting dissolved in the smoke, but coming up bricks. My flowers are blooming amidst the sea so powerful the sun so bright.

Give me something honest, something true, I want to see the real you. Do you even know who that is?
Note: whatever I write can be construed as fact or fiction, and as I know the reader will take the words however they so choose, so whether you believe it is true or not is completely irrelevant to if it actually is. Writing for me is an amalgamation of things expressed.

For the misguided mishaps misleading me to you

i- yes, please

I want, but can't have.
I look, but can't see.
I wait for you in an empty room and my mind is boiling with thoughts of your erotic incantations. Your talent and intelligence seduced me. "Oh, you're a silly girl", the ghost whispers. I ignore the ghost, but know he is right.

I am in love with a mirage. But doesn't it feel good? Dreams have always been better than reality. I WANT HIM. Desire has never burned so bright, or more pathetic in its luminescence.

ii- no, thank you
I messed up. I made a mistake. It wasn't there, it was never there, I conjured it up in my head, till I believed it was real. They are laughing, an orchestra of laughs, caucophony of insults playing their sad melody, and I smile, smiling, spewing forced glee. My makeup runs down my face while I am crying, but with a grin so big the Cheshire cat is jealous. How could something so real, be so fake?

iii- maybe
maybe I would.
maybe I wouldn't.
maybe mocks the meaning by teatering on a see-saw.
PICK A DAMN SIDE.
he said maybe. How could my yes, resort a resounding maybe?
maybe waits and waits.
The jeapordy song plays.
Alex Trebec is getting older.
Maybe I should find something else to do.

Eros/Venus/Aphrodite

Anne Sexton is my poetic lover.

The Kiss

My mouth blooms like a cut.I've been wronged all year, tedious nights, nothing but rough elbows in them and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling cry baby cry baby , you fool!Before today my body was useless.Now it's tearing at its square corners.It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot and see -- Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.Zing! A resurrection!Once it was a boat, quite wooden and with no business, no salt water under it and in need of some paint. It was no more than a group of boards. But you hoisted her, rigged her.She's been elected.My nerves are turned on. I hear them like musical instruments. Where there was silence the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped into fire.

The Fury of Cocks

There they are drooping over the breakfast plates, angel-like, folding in their sad wing, animal sad, and only the night before there they were playing the banjo. Once more the day's light comes with its immense sun, its mother trucks, its engines of amputation. Whereas last night the cock knew its way home, as stiff as a hammer, battering in with all its awful power. That theater. Today it is tender, a small bird, as soft as a baby's hand. She is the house. He is the steeple. When they fuck they are God. When they break away they are God. When they snore they are God. In the morning thet butter the toast. They don't say much. They are still God. All the cocks of the world are God, blooming, blooming, blooming into the sweet blood of woman.

When man enters woman

When man,
enters woman,
like the surf biting the shore,
again and again,
and the woman opens her mouth with pleasure
and her teeth gleam
like the alphabet,
Logos appears milking a star,
and the man
inside of woman
ties a knot
so that they will
never again be separate
and the woman
climbs into a flower
and swallows its stem
and Logos appears
and unleashes their rivers.
This man,
this woman
with their double hunger,
have tried to reach through
the curtain of God
and briefly they have,
through God
in His perversity
unties the knot.

I am not them

I am not them, the ones who walk their dogs during the day.
I am not them, the people who shop and chat, conversing on the phone.
I am not them, the people who make love at night and drink coffee in the morning.
I am not them, the politicos with their ideas of change and thoughts of nothingness.
I am not them, the people who think they are the only ones.
I am not them, those who think intelligence is worthless.
I am not them, the talkers and the walkers with nothing behind it.
I am not them, the people behind shams and drudgery.
I am not them, but wonder who they are.
I am not them, but deal with them with a smile.
I am not them, but they define me.
I am not them, but they make me sick.
I am not them, but can't help but wish.
I am not them, but I'm pissed.
I am not them, but wonder how they live.
I am not them, but wonder how they love.
I am not them, so loneliness follows me.
I am not them, so
I am not them, so
I am not them, so