i have no idea how i am going to write all these words down... there is no coherent thought pattern in my head right now. things scare me. im nto a jumpy person but lately things frighten me. extraneous noises... boxes opening, parts of songs ive never heard before. its all frightening. i dont know whats happening. i went up to my room a while ago with a book in one hand and my cd player in the other. the plan was to listen to some comforting music while i read some cause the downstairs is a fuckin... area. i dont want to be here standing down here not being able to sit on things because they are... dirty. and i dont need lights right now... fuckin lights. that was the plan anyway. just to go upstairs and enjoy that for a while. without people... fuck people. and shut that fucking door. i go upstairs to do some reading because i dont get to read much anymore cause reading isnt part of my schedul ethese days. just playing guitar and working and baksetball and all that other shit that doesnt really matter because reading is too time consuming and enjoyable to get accomplished much. dammit i hate that fuckin balloon. so i go upstairs to try and read some and ive got my candycane robe on htat must be thirty years old but i dont care its not mine anyway. i get in my bed and try and get comfortable but theres always too little or too many sheet sannd i just cant get comfortalbe. even now i notice that i cant function because my neck is spazzing and tight and it hruts and i dont know what to do about it except deal with it and get on with the fucking reading etc. so i put on some music some calming music that i havent listned to in a long itme and try try try to read that damn book but i jhust cant. the light is on tand tha television is on and some stupid moronic sitcom is on (like family i think) that i really dont give a shit about. so i read maybe a paragraphy of some essay that i really want to read but find out that i really cant do it. not now the light is too damn dirty and yellow and its killing me. so i fold the page again in the same spot it was before but a bigger fold because i almost missed the last one and put it down by my pillow where my head is. and i watch the television and listen to the music and try to voiceover the music on the television but all i can think about is how i havent heard this song in so long and it just wont work and helllll its music man, soaring bleating, music but it isnt loud enough. so i turn it up a bit and im thinking of how good it feels to be sitting there and if i close my eyes i can have super-in or out of body experiences because i float abvove or crawl inside myself depending on the cycle of my psyche at the moment. but i cant do it anymore because i think too much and i cant touch myself anywhere because that makes a double-sensation and i cant handle that at the moment. so i think to much and i cant leave my body behind like i want to and in the background that music that wouldnt submit to the book is soaring and lashing out at me cause its agressive... much too agressive for me and i really didnt expect it to be like this but it is. so i have to stop touching my hand and concentrate, really concentrate on crawling out of my head because my mind has trapped me in there right behind the eyes so all i can do is be there and try to sink down to my lips or crawl out through my hands but i cant do it. so i turn up the music some more and reach over to turn off the light but i cant cause the cord from my earpieces gets caught undre my arm and it almost pulls it out but it doesnt and i rearrange it and touch the lampopost which turns off the light and its dark in the room except for that damn fuckin tv show but i can close my eyes and forget all about that. because while i close my eyes i can see the music and every single angry layer of it and every guitar string and piano note attacks my head from the inside out because it is my very own brain that is vibrating and singing along with it. the voices in my head rape me... rape is what itfeels like because they arent supposed to be there so deep inside me and i can only imagine what it would be like... and all the time i am obsessed by every new sound because in the background there is an electronic buzzing sound that i had never heard before and i concentrate on that one sound because that is all that matters because i wil never see or hear it again and all the while bombs are exploding in my room because i can see them on my eyelids cause all the light from the television is boxing my eyelids and its an airraid and my eyelids are the blackout blinds on the windows and i am crouched down in the very back of my head watching the bombs from the safety of my head and the music is so amazing because i had never really listened to it before. and i cant take the bombs anymore so i reach over and with great effort and many tries i tuen the tv off and its dark again. dark except for the small amount of light coming from my almost closed door and the stereo across the room that lights up your puicture every now and then but thats not what is consuming my attention right now... its the sounds of the fury. i pull my hat down over my eyes like some redneck grandfather rocking on his front porch in alabama and lay there with my spazzed neck on the pillow and the book down beside me but the book doesnt matter anymore and i have long forgotten about it because it doesnt matter and im not touching myself to prevent the double-sensations that are too much to atke and i reach over and turn it up louder and louder and louder because there is no limit to what i can snese and hear when the music is coming from inside me anyway and i try to stay still but i am still trying to crawl out my fingers and i cant so i sway around in the back of my head right and left but i am sucked back to the front, to my eyes, because my eyelids start to twitch the music is loud and i cant stop it and i dont want to because i am out of body in my body and cant think except what to do next which is of no consequence. but the song ends and i fumble with the buttons and try to find it but i cant and after a cou ple passes i find a new one to hear and commence the dangerous slope once agian. cause i can lay there inside my head all night long and comepletely groove to myself all thes ehtings i do. and its just me inside my head and that sinister voice that comes out of nowhere at all that keeps talking to me in music and i can still see the piano keys rolling from left to right across my mind and every guitar string that is plucked and im bouncing with the bass because i can see that further down in the hole that leads down my neck and i want to follow it but it picks itself up in the background again and the other noises move to the foreground because tehy are agressive and want attention. this is the last hting i wanted. as the song ends i freak out. i sit up quickly and feel like sweating but there is no sweat adn no clamminess just me sitting there and i realize that i must turn off the music quickly or be sucked back in so i manage to pop the right button just in time and i just lay there violated with the remnants of the music buzzing in my ears. like some inversion of all the sounds i had heard just buzzing and tripping overthemselves and i must get out of there so i slowly pop the earpieces out (with much difficutly) and try and fold it all back up and slide the cd player back in the case but it is so difficult because of all the extraneous sounds are so far away now and not inside my head like what was so comfortable and i cant see these sounds and im back stuck and cant move inside my head at all and its horrible and lonely and i must pick myself up and come down here to the dirt and the grime and dirty light so i can write it all down.

hey everyone... because its so hard not to post it all... ive created a seperate page for the lisa conversations. you know we have so much more fun than you... get over it. link is on the right -->

another sad poem... why do i continue to write these?

the colors shift from red to blue
like some sick leaf dead in the fall
i let the string slip off my wrist

this entertainment's getting old
like sweet exhaust smell from the pipe
but danger's more than sitting still

life's made for you to fuck it up
regrets are not redeemable
in slot machines outside this world

the more i try the worse things get
all poetry dies off in length
not smart enough to let things go

but ill sit here long after dark
and bite bullets i never dodged
is this the kind of life i want?

... yay for sad poems

shibbydelic13: damn you
shibbydelic13: i need a fuckin massage mannnn
foosballoser: trust me, you REALLY want some of this
shibbydelic13: i know i really want some of that
shibbydelic13: i mean come on, i damned you didnt i?
foosballoser: its gonna take more than that
shibbydelic13: blah, im subtle i know

ive got nothing to do... nothing at all and its more than i can bear. ill wish i was back here tomorrow when im at school. when im old i will wish i hadnt wasted all my fertile years sitting here on my arse frittering away the time. but no, i cant do anything because there is nothing to do. the air is so heavy and my lungs are so tired of sucking it in and sighing it out... im so sick of breathing. im ready for my heart to beat a new rhythm but it isnt cooperating. the air is so oppressive. it holds me down some days. i cant get up because the air isnt like rope or weights... no, its a blanket that offends you and probes you and rapes you there on the couch because its big and bad and invisible. thats when gravity kicks in. gravity is big and bad and invisible too cause its quicksand for the air. gravity keeps me grounded and i resent that. i want to fly up to the light air that is cool and crisp and reminds me of apples cause its so healthy feeling. the kind of air that lifts you up... that turns gravity into your friend. the air you want to eat and drink and bathe in is right there but above the facist blanket of dirty discolored air that molds your best comforters. water is like air because it is just air bonded with air. you always fligh higher single. water is crisp and like an apple but also cold like jello and warm like waste. ive lost touch with the part of my memory that knows whether it was a dream or not... those couple times i could breathe underwater. it was like i could look at the surface from down there and still suck air and i have no idea where it is coming from but it appears there in my lungs instead of the water. the water is always nice in those dreams... always like an apple or some fruit punch that doesnt make you all sticky but rather beads up and runs off you like... water. reminds me of dirty light, that dirty air. yellow bulbs and light that blinds you when you look at it but makes you sick when you look at everything it infects. clean light would make all the difference in the world but nobody ever pays enough attention to make the distinction or the effort to purchase clean light so i live with the shit all around me. grungy... i live with tan walls because after staring at them, dirty light doesnt make all that much difference. by then my mind is so cloudy and filthy and filthy and fucking filthy with this hitler air and piss water and old fashioned light that nothing really makes that much of an impact anymore. why cant i get clean again? dammit boy i wish i knew. as for now, ill be in the other room with the gum-crusted decade old furniture cleaner and a dust-caked yellowish cloth.

its a night for writing, definitely a night for writing. but its not a night for motivation of writing. nothing to get me motivated. we had festival for band today, big whoop. i accomplished sixty pages of reading on the bus. why? because id rather not be an ass. not that i didnt sing along to myself to the rousing rendition of 'hotel california'... but i also didnt respond when it was mentioned that lynyrd skynyrd needed to die (oh wait they already did). no yelling at the busdriver that he was going the wrong direction or otherwise being a bitch. nah, not today. the music, however, was better. yes i still hate the music we play but today it at least felt good. like it was flowing through me. my fingers would move on cue with about half the brain waves required to normally command them. so i was sitting there on stage being judged from all angles just daydreaming to myself while i was playing. it was wonderful really. then in sightreading we kicked ass... although i did get criticized for not separating certian notes enough. fucking perfectionists. ttc was cool though - im not really used to mallratting it with people. but mallrat is what we did. we didnt really have a choice, an hour and a half respite from the bus to wander about. i ate a $6.50 chinese plate that was good but still made me feel violated. feels sick to donate that much money to people that just scoop chicken out of a bin and plop it on a plate. yes it was good... but i think half the fun is the illusion that you might actually get permeated with funny from eating 'bourbon chicken'. by the way... massaging chairs hurt. i dont give a damn if they are swedish. the swedes make good (expensive) cars but maybe they should give up on massaging chairs. seriously. besides the fact that all my friends left me and it was, after all, a band trip... not so bad after all. it was a gorgeous day outside today. i mean brilliant in every way. a tad bit windy but sunny enough to make up for the chills with a small dose of ambient heat from the cracks in the pavement. im always scared i dont appreciate them enough. its easy enough to look up at the sky and the hosue and the trees while im dragging the trashcan back to the basement but to really enjoy it is something i havent done in a long time. it feels like lying to myself to call playing basketball outside 'enjoying the weather' because in reality im not focused on the weather a bit. although focusing on the weather would make a good excuse for a bad shot. i wouldnt stoop that low though, no. and being alone is lovely. it is in ways anyway. playing basketball alone is one of the underrated parts of life. every time i try during the afternoon my sister will invariably sniff it out and find me to annoy me. it just puts me out of the mood. i would feel guilty for leaving her and going back inside if she werent my sister. but she is... and we all know how that is. its also nice that the days last that much longer. summer is definitely on its way. no complaints from me, the pool is beckoning. i miss all the kids and the tans and the 'free' food that really wasnt supposed to be free. really though, anything is free if you try hard enough. bad example... i dont think i would make a good role model anymore. too destructive (mentally mostly) and emotionally fucked. hard times for white middle class guys eh? no? ok. i saw a quote today on the boards that really amused me. it was for the acc's first team ugly players. for sean may the guy wrote "sean may - does he want fries with that? of course he does." i laughed. its good to laugh, releases inner stress. i bet bill clinton laughed a lot while he was president. ahh ok dont let this get too random. i need to get back into form while writing. i want to do essays and abstracts and things like that. it always ends up as just another one-sided conversation. just me and the phantom on the net. it is always like that but i would really like to change it. not tonight though, its too late tonight. my hands are tied permanently. theres nothing real i can do with people. id apologize for flirting if i thought it needed to be done but usually its all just part of the game. the game is survival for teenagers. hormones and the like. flirting is the thing to do, so take no offense and i would appreciate it. and smoking... i think i would if it werent so damn harmful. just feels like me. i believe i am a smoker at heart if not in health. ive known people died from it. wouldnt let myself do that. so thats it... my life. it feels like such a waste sometimes. im not going to change the world. i wont cure diabetes, hell, i will probably die from it. im not going to be any star athelete or famous musician. theres only so many people you can touch from where im sitting. theres only so many brain cells you can burn. my very own daydreams make me sick sometimes. i dont claim to understand how my mind works but sometimes it is hard to accept the fact that we might lead different lives. there just arent paths that i care to cross... lines in the sand i wouldnt touch. but there are also ideas and theories and emotions. revolutionary emotions that can change who you are to the core. these things are important, mind you, but often i dont waste enough effort cultivating these revolutionary ideals into reality so after a while they burn off with the rest of the wasted calories on my skinny self. its all a matter of time before anything happens. its all a matter of time because invariably it will still happen and we will still be surprised and blame it on the instant and not the history leading up to it. it is our fatal flaw... not realizing the inevitible before we can use it as evidence. we cant change the course of the future because the course we live is the course we make day by day. there is no way to know that it was changed. if you hadnt caught that bullet then someone else would have. it is just that simple. it must be hard to live that way... knowing that you arent that special. it was time for a person fitting your description to be born and it turned out to be you. lucky i guess... well... depending on who you are and your own personal view on life anyway. we need to fight this destiny and turn it against ourselves. im not saying we have any power over the workings of an omnipotent god but there may be a chance still that we truly are "floating around on a breeze" as they say. this isnt anti-religious but personally empowering, knowing that you are still in control of your destiny. predestination doesnt exist around here. that died off with the calvinists. not in my house anyway. so there. take it or leave it.

the air outside tonight smelled like trash. i resent that.

i am happy. yeah yall heard right, no depressing posts tonight man cause im in a good mood. ok, so im not in a good mood for any particularly good reason. mostly just because its storming and scary as hell outside and i love it. wind gusts to 24 mph. ok that may not sound like much but it feels like oh so much more. im carrying a mag in my pocket in case the power goes out. mmm so much fun. i hope things crash and burn in the storm. im in a good mood and i dont care if you dont speak to me... so there.

i am an attention whore... but only when i know i can get it. i will roll my windows down, change lanes, and turn the music up when passing elementary school classes touring raleigh on my way home from school. i will sit there and look cool cause everybody knows little kids adore prototypical teenagers. i am so cool. too bad im not a prototypical teenager at all... so its all a lie. but hell, i dont mind. attention whore.

and in other news, there was the most beautiful sunset tonight. so brilliant... you just dont see colors like that anywhere except nature. the clouds looked two dimensional... like they were painted on the sky. just like God brought back rembrant or da vinci or some other master to do another sistine chapel for my country town. lovely...

i wanted to write something after english test today but couldnt think of anything... so i look down and someone had written "THE BLUE MEANIES" on my desk. it had been there long before... i just never thought of writing about it till now...

THE BLUE MEANIES

the blue meanies are a terrible group
no high too high nor low to stoop
hit you down low and throw you for a loop
and when they do they'll let out a whoop yeaaahhhh

the blue meanies just dont understand
they'll rape and pillage and concrete the land
grind all your good glass back into sand
and scratch up the cd of your favorite band

the blue meanies inside trade all their stocks
break into your locker and change out the locks
when you shake their hands you get little shocks
they intentionally give little kids chicken pox

the blue meanies will cool whip your car
they'll beat you in golf cause they shoot under par
and use your tab for their drinks at the bar
and put a rat motor in a car thats mopar

the blue meanies will tell only lies
malfunction your clothes and uncover your spies
they'll shine their flashlights right in your eyes
and eat the ingredients for all your pies

the blue meanies always win all their games
delight turning violent all things that were tame
they love taking pride in causing things pain
and pollute for the sake of making acid rain

the blue meanies will spoil all your dates
consensually screw you then charge you with rape
they'll cheat and they'll hurt and they will not abate
cause they hate and they hate and they hate and they hate...

fuck you blue meanies yeaaahhhh....

found a couple minutes to write today after an english test and realized i wasnt feeling anything to write about. not really feeling much of anything at all. its a strange sensation, to be empty. not even empty, just the lack of feeling solid. nothing hurts so yeah im blessed for that. relatively then, i feel good. its not often though that you specifically feel good in any area. so not feeling bad could be a plus. if i think about it, i can feel the pressure of my feet on the ground, my ass on the chair, and of my hat on my head. you just dont ever notice it. i can feel that im wearing clothes... i just forgot i was. i just dont feel anything inside. the space between my ribs is just dark space. i would be hard pressed to believe there was anything living in there unless i saw it. cant even feel myself living. after a while i guess we all develope an immunity for feeling alive. its easy to take for granted. that isnt to say i dont appreciate it. i have a wonderful song in my head (and not a day less will do) and am surrounded by people that i consider pretty good friends. nobody i really get excited over when i see them though. nobody here makes my heart skip a beat. nobody here makes me notice that im alive. maybe if i were to have that picnic now or get in my car and drive. i know where i would go. that would make me alive for sure. but none of these are options. my options involve following the rules and figuring out a way to live between them. well.... for now anyways. in case you were wondering, my hand is cramping (left one). i guess thats a start. i have solid hands, woot. ill work on the rest of me later. ive got forever to start feeling alive. then again, death sounds so exciting... ironic aint it? forever...

peace yall

ive got friends in low places where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away... and ill be ok... oh its been a while country music. my first albums were country but since then ive given up on it. recently though, a song or two will stick in my head and be cool. i never got off good southern rock though, even if i dont care as much for country, lynyrd skynyrd is just fine. aww, i love it all. after all, everybody's cool playing rock and roll. i love the callouses on my fingers. its good to see after playing guitar for a year. really feels good, something i dont get sick of anyway. i get sick of people so much easier. like going to the movies alone last night. no complaints there. its nice to spread out a bit. pretty good movie anyway. and driving home. so wonderful. for once, one song. except that i almost got hit by some fucking moron in a minivan... but i didnt. so smooth, all the way home. its when i like my volvo more than a loud yj with mickey thompsons. oh well, that, a couple inches lift, bushwhackers, warns and a rebuilt jeep 6 someday.. someday. i wouldnt mind if the teacher went crazy and stormed out on us right now. sick of her. its supposed to be 70 today. maybe that will melt the snow from 3 days ago... driving in today was wonderful though. gorgeous outside and a rediscovered jazz cd will do it for you. getting funky on a monday morning never hurt anyone either. yeah well, i could be the guy with the fro on the 70's cop show. or starsky with the striped tomato. yeah if i had a red torino its what id do. on time enough to park halifax. love it that way. wearing sandals anyway. barefoot driving rocks my socks. that and driving 55 down snowy country roads in a blizzard with loud music. i love it all. you know how i do. i do it all alone. this disgusting arrangement is killing me softly. but we should all just smile. im beginning to think the metaphor of these dead baby dreams is true. i shouldnt be so offended. its been so long since weve talked like friends... im sorry. and i still count on jackie's strength more than i know. but thanks for the photographs. i really needed that. crazy crazy crazy and clouds reappear. im sorry i make no sense but these are the things that you think when you are bored in school. i havent seen barbados so i must get out of this. before i fall asleep in here. this isnt a place for me to stay, making little marks on a page and trying to make it worthwhile. it might just be, to save me from this anyway. hallelujah for long shot dreams. its all ive got anyway. no poems today. im not feeling it. its fine though, i dont need to rhyme. i just need to be alone, a 6-string named charly and a pack of d'addarios or ernie balls for alice.

i... i... i love you. peace