Monday, November 19, 2012


everything will be in black and white, remember. the future is a child on playground about to skin his knees, tear through jeans, go play again. i don't know if our paths ever crossed before.

i was sitting somewhere on the promenade drained and stimulated by all the adrenaline i've been pumping through my blood from beaten stages, holes in walls, awkward pauses, beats, edification for that moment of tension and burst, sun reflecting me in the menu window of a restaurant. i see all the years beginning to accumulate on my face and staying there and i'm worn out and invigorated at the same time, days unidentifiable, even my dreams are foreign, scary, and this world is beyond understanding alone.

britt and i were talking about continuing our parent's metaphysical journeys. trav and i, reincarnating opportunities for behaving in truth like cloud atlas and our own purpose. bec, we looked into each other's eyes and spoke of darker depths, until that guy behind us, stood up and went home, hugged his kids, we hoped, imagined, laughed. shane, we said it's all in our minds, our tickets to freedom, most importantly creation, like this or that book he read on cell phone at jury duty or some george lucas quote i'd heard, creators. tallulah, i told about the time i was kicked in the solar plexus by a horse and she gave me hers about the jealous head-butting goat at the farm, then we sat in the car, she finished her cold pizza slice breakfast and we made up fictional get-rich-strange worlds, straight-faced mostly, we get it, jealous goat factory fires, insurance money, human blubber, block out the sun ransom, not necessarily in that order.

i'm the luckiest man in the universe.

Monday, November 12, 2012

russian books

you might know me. i'm the one creating own tales in mind and riding imaginary horses hoofing streets in this lonely amazing city. i was writing this scene reminiscent of us and i could taste your mouth. and someday mankind will be divided by those who can survive outside and those who must stay indoors. and one day we will have but a single username to classify ourselves. until then, circumventing dystopia, we could discover something precious dredged from our rocky soil.

you start with getting by, then good days and bad days, more weeks, more time and you almost forget about her feeling, like honey.

until you do.

it's strange but they never bring rescue in those achingly desolate moments and days upon days of crushing agony. they only arrive knocking in forceful waves once you've unmistakably immersed yourself back into violent forests with beasts of blood and wild man as your guide. and then you don't have time to be slowed down by excess and charm, face painted, heart savage again. there's play-acting in every ceremony but at the core is a straightforward truth, a heart of the matter; that it's invigorating to be in discovery at full stride, haunting ghosts instead, travelling in synchronicity with animal spirit and hunt and moment.

but for you sappy folks thinking, feeling, romantic connection is your guide, machete clearing your way through weeds, discovery of path, i offer you this: 

on public radio there was a piece, i caught the tail end, about a runner, he was in terrible pain, damaged health for awhile but getting better and better, finally convinced by his woman to give up on the pain medication, sure enough, he turned out fine and thankful and running again and he stubbornly conceded everything to her and she said:

i didn't have any other choice because i love you.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

keep venturing

these words are dangerous. sunset blvd. crawls along merrily and unshaken through gloss and that leftover 90's spirit, urine soaked wood and a feeling from the years before at red rocks. venice is teeming with cats on rooftops and alleyways, possums trot like stupid possums do in front of headlights on dark nights. magic, when they give us that tin cup of milkshake extra instead of throwing it away. these days are the same til they're not, it takes a struggle to cover the previous coat of some left behind pseudo-masterpiece or brilliant arrangement too far ahead of it's time. but you can become stronger than a wave, tidal surge, you are a unique source of energy. and dfw was killed, i believe, by too many words. bill hicks and those folks by truth, it's like these amazing people walk our earth and become absolutely realized only a small moment of time before they are to leave, giving us but a clue to the clueless universal organism. but let's not make martyrs of the departed, instead, let's take those hints and lessons and impart something brilliant while we're here. these words are luminous.