little cats are the devil. just watched the episode of that 70's show where eric gives donna a promise ring and she gives it back and he breaks up with her. i could try and draw some parallels here but i really dont feel like it. it feels much too obvious... even if it isnt. guess what im doing fine. it is strange because i dont understand why. i like things to be rational, to make some sense but this doesnt. i thought i would be a fucking basket case for a good while but it hasnt happened. i am conspicuously absent of too much bad emotion. maybe sad emotion but just trace amounts, nothing that amounts to anything. and i dont feel like writing tonight, i dont have that drive that produces work like whats come out the past couple times so if you are looking for magic, i apologize but it isnt here. i am writing because i havent in a while and i feel like i absolutely must or i might burst, not because i want to. clearly theres a difference and i havent decided if this is a line i should cross or not. should i write more often and perhaps not get as much out or less often and really make it mean something or more often and really try to make it good even when im not in the mood? you could call it some sort of practice in style even though its almost patently sucking the lifeblood out of other far more notable authors. thats all i am.

but, i have come to a realization that im sure ive had before but never really appreciated. im not even sure i do now im so used to living with it. my reality is that i have no real true best friend. surprise, there is nobody that i really want to tell my entire life story to every night. i have plenty of wonderful caring good friends but none that i would consider my best friend. i have no soulmate. guy or gal, either. i had a best friend once after freshman year but that just ended up twisted and i cant say i can communicate with the kid like that anymore. i thought i had one up until now but as far as i can tell she just doesnt have time for me anymore, just doesnt care about me as much as i do her. and thats fine, nothing i can help, i would just like to really connect to someone in that immensly healthy way that best friends do. i have people i can talk to out of state but they dont make the best best friends simply because its impractical. cant always be there when you are never there. im not saying any of this particularly bothers me although i really would like to find someone. im scared that if i found that soulmate and it was a girl i would fall in love with her which i know cannot be a good thing. or maybe it can, i guess i cant base my experiences on a single case study. wouldnt be smart. anyway, thats about all about that.

so like said, forget the beautiful babble tonight because it isnt flowing. conserve the energy and maybe ill write something worthwhile another time. still was healthy i guess to get something out, a time filler maybe, to seperate good posts with something less than two weeks time. who knows, maybe i will have something important to say tomorrow night. never really know.

relaxing isnt it when the day is past and you are spent all you had on surviving its trials and wonders and awakeness and the only thing to do this time of night is lazily turn an apathetic ear to the olympics or walk outside or sit down and write like me and all the other wonderful people who appreciate things like this. the air isnt heavy its just your head and lips weight more than all that but its nonsensical and unimportant all at once. i can really dig someone for a quarter hour and then am not shocked when things suddenly go awry or shut themselves down as if without warning the opposing party loses interest and walks away from across the connection but its not that because inside people really do care which is something that is becoming harder and harder to believe but still may be true. and theres nothing left to do but listen to several species and close the door because nothing else is important when there are voices speaking to you in languages you dont understand yet but you must learn because you might miss something later on. scary sounds or noises which are sounds but more specifically unmusical ones because musical sounds can be classified much clearer and more respectfully as music or notes or...

oh revelation! nous avons gagne.

and this unmusic is so awesome in such strange ways that i start to hear language in babble or is it just old english because i wouldnt have known before today and new information tends to do that to you. tends to creep up and bite you in the arse when you arent expecting to remember it and that is what is so wonderful about learning, about memory, its what i dig most about being awake, the realization that you are part of something, part of the world and are really understanding it more than you ever have before and are really into it and with it and digging it like you never have before. i wish sometimes i could know everything and not have to wonder or ask or be afraid of being so intimate with life anymore but the proposition is truly scary when you consider it objectively because to know everything would leave nothing to learn and no new revelations to dig and only old seeded ones because they are all that are when you know everything and thats never been what ive wanted for my life so i will stop wanting it at all.

there werent any clouds outside tonight so as i thought in the refridge about what to eat or drink that i could add coffee too it occurred to me that i should take a peek at the sky and so i walked (no, sauntered!) over to the door and nose-to-glass wonderfully gazed up at the heavens but saw nothing but lack of clouds so i stepped out the door and left it open because, with nothing but a dark kitch with flashes of color splashed up in hazy opaqueness against the plaid paper and glass of the back wall the reflections of the tele in the next room over, flying things wouldnt consider it such a wonderful proposition to fly in. and with the failing but seeping belief that the light wouldnt excite itself i moved breathlessly out to the center of the back deck and craned skyward to catch a glance of the gorgeousness that reminds me god is real. a torch appeared over the horizon behind the many anorexic black fingers of the plant growth of the creek and i watched (stared!) as it grew nearer and the roar of the jets reached my ears and the torch turned to two headlights and the jet took a soft soft soft bank over my house and behind the weatherstripping and out of view gone but not forgotten. and i can watch the sky for itself all over again the bright stars and the less glamorous but no less glorious dimmer starlets that all together make me believe that god indeed has freckles. and perhaps most significantly is that i saw not a single satellite and that if i did i am still not sure what i would have made of it, i could have praised god for giving me such a sign to change my ways and appease or maybe scorned it or burned it as some blasphemy to my beliefs or even just not cared at all and reveled or cried at that realization that it just doesnt matter like it used to, not like it used to.

but for now all is wonderful and the music is soft and the late news is hidden behind the transparent moody door glass and the mouths of the reporters utter no sounds to my tired ears and it is just tomorrow in her eyes, thats all.

therapy... the only reason to write tonight. i hurt so badly at the moment. some sick pain that started in my stomach and wound its way up to my mouth. deep, deep pain. pain that if i close my eyes i can see. a black hole in my belly. so much more... dimensional than me. red tinged on the edges. eating away the nether-area between the stomach and the lungs and occasionally creeping up to inflame and burn the throat and mouth. i dont know what this is. i can feel myself imploding. i wouldnt entirely mind it. maybe this demon will work its way out the blister in my foot. the worlds a blister. oww...

and deeper than this cancer is a worse cavity. i am reminded in painful flashes how it felt to be loved... which only leads to loss. not loved anymore. its always been good, better than good, to be loved. somehow ive managed to fuck that up. maybe it was you. i tend to blame myself though. makes me want to cry. the things that arent there anymore... i didnt consider when all this fell down. i always thought i would have these things. but theres nothing there. have you moved on? without me? im not over anything. in the future i will call this a learning experience. i will be lonely then too. ah subside, please, subside.

relax, please. to myself, to everyone. you dont have to be assholes. not to be cool... not to be human. i drove home slow today. got in the right lane and stayed there. i played my tasteful rock music but tried not to annoy anyone. ive always wanted a bumper sticker for people that play their music unbearably loud. it would say, "thanks for sharing...". i tried not to get off the line too hard at stoplights and still probably looked bad. one i was behind a flagrant red whale tale mustang and ahead of a new gold tribute. i managed to keep my distance from the stang but still outgunned the mazda by a wide margin. felt bad. he probably thought me an asshole. hell, though. everyone cant like you. i guess it is the thought that counts.

nobody said it was easy. its such a shame for us to part. the pain is leaving. drained. emotionally and physically. this song was written for me. they just didnt know it. back to nothing. cancers gone. i want to apologize to everyone for being so sad. ive been through a lot lately but its no excuse. i dont want to write one-dimensionally or for you all to have to read sad words all the time. i know i wouldnt want to. in the scheme of things im lucky. still just another unloved middle class white kid. ill work it out. figure some way to get past myself and over everyone else. no worries. it just seems to futile some nights. how hard is it to let go? how easy is it to move past someone like me? why cant i ever write anything so beautiful it would make me cry. this song is terribly overplayed. i resent that. nobody deserves it. in the grandest scheme of things i dont even matter. this will all fall down. of course it will. everything will. sooner or later we will all die. nobody will have the last laugh. but there will also be brighter days and better times. all we can do is live for that and nothing else. if you focus on the bad the greater good loses meaning. just love and be loved. its all there is.

i wrote a poem in band today. it started out as something i wanted to say and ended up complete shit. it always happens. i start out something wonderful then try and hold the theme to fill out a full poem and not just a couple lines and it ends up shit. and so it goes...

new days on the risin
lay back down and watch the sky
hills up close turn mountains
alone i stand and face midnight
walk away from your name
find my own new dawn to free
sunburst on the summit
lost faith in your gravity
ghosts haunt me no longer
blind eye to my old mistakes
new days on the risin
no regrets for my own sake

oh well... shit happens sometimes. so does beautiful music. hopefully im in for more of the latter than the former. i still need money. somehow... and im not sure. so maybe someday i will be able to produce and reproduce this release at will... because it is a release to not hear or listen but feel the notes like this. every one of them. before it has led to disastrous things... but i wouldnt trade that. not those memories. and as suddenly as it began... the song ends. it wasnt one to play twice. over exposure taints the beauty. so i was surprised when it ceased to be. continuous play didnt hold over. beautiful. and at the same time a chance to converse with the source of my grief... and love. which one i cant say for now. just that its been a while. hello again.

band today was loud and unsettled and terrible and unholy and...
and so i wrote a poem:


never have i seen the woods
there was always a tree standing in the way
and though that path's been trod before
i's always scared until this day

but courage comes in many forms
and if self-doubt's filled that demand
all the courage that ive got in me
aint all justified with this man

now courage aint a virtue such
that cant be beat by bold refrain
cause the doubt in me wont be benign
and i wont know till we meet again

for now my face'll let you know
that what ive done is pure and right
but strung beneath this paper skin
god knows im yet to see the light

8-19-2004

sigh... time of death~ 11:52 pm 8/16/2004

sitting here listening to music i havent heard in years and never knew existed when i might have appreciated it for what it was and it is funny. laughing at myself. the hook brings you back. always haha. i find myself, otherwise, in a peculiar situation. for all i know everybody has been there. for all i know im one in a billion who's mold never broke. but for all i know its just me in my own little known universe here in my city with my acquaintances. suck it in suck it in. my life is a cult b movie. slow with flashes of brilliance that by other standards may... suck. my acting is only adequate and the special effects are non-existant. but i do have a story. one worthy of a feature film? doubtful... too common. but for a flash-in-the-pan b movie? i make a couple friends just being myself. held on to a couple too if only i wouldnt let them go. its days like this that burn me. i have been called a work in progress before. maybe that applies in more ways than intended. he didnt know anything about me.

so what about me? i thought i knew what love was but i was mistaken. it isnt something you create yourself. love is the egg. love is something that hatches inside you in spite of yourself, not because you were looking for it. ive lowered my expectations. been cut short, ripped off, and left out to dry. all metaphorically speaking because the entire soap opera was imaginary. its just the way things work with me. now i find myself in the precarious situation of being stuck in the middle with(out) you. here listening to 'eye of the tiger' in a perfectly rational logical boring state of mind. nothing phasing me, coloring my cheeks, blurring my vision, or whispering in my ear. none of that. ive been told i have flashes of brilliance. that was an actual quote that i referenced a minute ago. brilliance isnt quite the right word though. flashes of irrationality would be more like it. things still remind me of you. and when those things do i see a side of you i dont get very often. one that smiles and laughs and isnt tired or beat or busy or hurt... just the relaxed at-ease you. flashes though, my logical mind has killed the everyday you off. tragic isnt it? stuck between you and her. now with her i see the happiness but also the darkness. im not sure how i would handle her. she is not my ideal companion at the moment anyway. too much caught up in a life i dont share. i dont even envy it much. there is a relationship too. i dont think it would work. caught in the middle alone. alone... yeah ill be all right. im just lonely.

point being, i need to get out of this place. which may well happen in due time assuming i get into and find a way to pay for college. college is a place i can pretend i know how to handle. i can have relationships and bullshit my way through them. in college i will have a past and not a shitty one... one i write myself. a respectable cult classic b movie past. i can get by with that. that and my old where-was-i-then music. or should it be where-were-you-then? i havent decided. pack up my old t-shirts and hats and guitars and myself and leave this place. leave all of you. all of you leave me. scatter across the country. you will stay with the river. she will find you... or stay home. i will go somewhere in between. far away but here still. somewhere not here but still... here. in general. not impossible. you keep telling me i can visit when you move out of the house... away from your family. you love them but the both of us might take some getting used to. its ok, i get it. maybe i wouldnt bet on this postponing though. as you can tell, after two weeks incommunicato i am practically over you. i might not want to come. bet you didnt see that coming. blindsided - pow! yeah well there it is. i might rather lie down in the middle of the quad and stare at the sun until i go blind or develope a heroin addiction or whatnot. you cant stop me. muah.

i came to the conclusion long ago that it was much more wonderful to be loved than to love. the thing is... you cant really appreciate it unless you love back. it takes two. reminds me of freud rambling on about couples being completely independant and indifferent about society. i dont know how i feel about that. i dont remember how he felt about that. i want to try it though. i also want to try sushi. maybe later. in college. love to freud was sex. sexual pleasure and libidos and eros and lots of crazy shit. love to me a year ago was a fictional connection to someone else that agreed they would say they loved you too. it was your idea. yeah thanks. perhaps the best response back then would be, "thank you, but... no." if freud was right then we were wrong. maybe i was wrong. i dont know what your agenda was. no sex, no lust, no fucking companionship. that wasnt love. whatever flashes i have now arent love. i am convinced love is something more. it has to be. or else there isnt really anything to live for. whatever i had that i labeled 'love' isnt enough for me anymore. so unless you are willing to do something about that... i dont know what to tell you. the flashes will stop eventually. this will all fall down. even if you were the last beautiful girl in the world.

forget about a point, there isnt one. i continue to be stuck in the middle. whether i do anything about that isnt really an issue with me. im lazy so i will take the next opportunity offered. unless i am not ready which is always a chance. everyday is a funeral. i might just be scared. scarred. your fault entirely. im not blaming you though. who will i take to prom? it will take a hot car to attract anyone... ill work on that. ill never fall in love again. right on. fuck the future. i should be happy with what i have now. a couple friends i tend to go days without talking to. a personal life with population: me. an exciting/boring car. a guitar or two. and this blog. there isnt much else to me. without you. with you i was using my imagination, you remember, like on barney. self-content with all i had and all i was because of that. not anymore. maybe i should start smoking. would complete the package, no? i could make it a game. how long until i am fully and tragically addicted... and then how long will it take me to quit. then, anxiously, i can wonder if i will ever die from this disturbing habit. just looking to extend the flash in my pan. with or without you.

hello this is to you
hello this is goodbye
you never gave me the chance to know
just left me the time to cry

here comes the slow deep quiet realization that all ive worked for is false. i dont believe a thing you say. i dont believe our past. i dont believe in our future. cant say i have regrets. just wish i had seen the truth earlier. 'this boys too young to be singin the blues.' one night away from home and i used to call. you never did. still no voicemail to date. i win. stupid stuipid stupid. ive finally decided my future lies beyond you. i taught myself to stop popping my knuckles. fuck that. time to teach myself to stop saying your name. dont mistake this for anger, it isnt. it is... i am resigned. i suppose. tired of trying just as im tired of crying. time to take you off that pedestal. lets just be friends. its what you wanted all along. lies. all you ever did was lie to me. ive been ok with this. such a slow process and strange. strange how sunday i was content with bracing myself to one day, someday, win you over... and that would be that. somehow your lack of communication shook something loose. something died. something let go. its your fault. i let go. j'ai lache. and somehow writing this down is bothering me. my throats caught. that pain in my empty self is back. it will go. 'this will all fall down'. im not sure you can change that. i hope you can feel this though. it means something to me. maybe it will to you too.

hello how are things
hello im praying for you
lifes treated you so unfairly
deep into your blues

remember when things werent so easy. when you needed me. its a strange concept isnt it? needing me? i bet that hasnt occurred to you. not in years. 'confidant tell me how to feel'. its true. my unshaken confidence years ago. what happened to that? you stopped giving me a reason to believe. there is no forever. never was. that shouldnt bother you. it bothers me sometimes. i missed you for a little while. thought i had something to miss. i was wrong. we never had anything. just a couple nights out with friends. social with company. you amazed me less than i remembered. denied a future. does that scare you? 'me i aint ever gonna understand'.

hello i think i love you
hello what do you see
theres nothing for you to run from
all you see is me

remember out on the walkway when you shared your music with me. privacy released. you wrote in my notebook and gave me batteries when mine died. remember the elections, the movies, the shakespeare, the expos... where were you then? where were you? ill never know. thats what i regret. the more i think of you, kid, the more i see myself. you were a big part of me. why the hell was i ever worthwhile? because of you. worthwhile to you? who knows... you didnt. still dont. remember when i called you clingy and you got angry? im sorry for that. whatever happened to that... whatever happened to dibs? seriously. 'i thought that meant something to you'. if you were just messing around you should have told me. we got too comfortable. never should have let it fade. or was it ever there to begin with? i never knew what love meant. i know that now. should have known it then.

hello this is to you
hello this is goodbye
theres a space in my heart for you
one thats recently died
im sorry
im not sure why

so this is goodbye. this is it. never thought i would see the day. just isnt worth it anymore.

"but forever never seems to be around when things end" ~ b.h.

"Now she goes - beautifully, with simplicity. It no longer makes me cry and die and tear myself to see her go because everything goes away from me like that now - girls, visions, anything, just in the same way and forever and I accept lostness forever. Everything belongs to me because I am poor." ~ jack

goodbye saffron

tired. in pain. i feel like jesus.

i want to: sleep, heal, play guitar, finish this, get away, move on, move out, see somebody, and talk to somebody else... but none of this is important.

earlier tonight i was stopped at a stoplight. light turns green. i ease onto the pedal aware that my music is loud and that if i take off from the line i will look like a punk. cant do both. easy off the line i see ahead an old shitbox van quickly round the corner from the left into my lane. nothing to touch the brake about, it is a large intersection, but obvious he ran the red. asshole, i think, dirty bastard. people pull shit like this all the time. i flip him off over my steering wheel. not because i want to piss him off but because i know nobody will see me. he moves slowly in my lane but also with a wheel in the other lane shifting back and forth slowly as if confused. a yellow sign on the back of the luggage annex on the van says "caution: children" and below it on the door "slow watch for children". strange he should take a corner that quickly. i look through the dirty rear windows at something moving in the back. looks like a piece of duct tape flapping about. there is another piece hanging under the muffler. the entire van is a shitbox, is both apathetic and provoking, not sad. i check blind spot to the right and hit the pedal into the middle lane. it is an icecream truck, an old one. i want to pass him but the speedo reads fifty two so i wont push it. he is still toeing my lane with the shitbox. nothing to do but uncomfortably take notice in case he is drunk or dull, avoid danger. finally with the next intersection down the hill i plunge the pedal a fraction and pass him. out of habit i glance over to see the driver, to know the face. the driver had pissed me off for thirty seconds now.

it was a girl. just a kid. this was shocking to me. girl looked beat, hanging over the wheel, didnt belong. not in that icecream shitbox. not at nine at night. why was she there? this curiosity took the place of my ill-judged anger. i moved on past her and saw in the rear-view that she (with turn signal) eased into my lane behind me. stopped at the light and she pulled up on the right side. pulled up a bit past my jeep not into the intersection but nosing the white stripe. i couldnt help but take a look. she must be young, early twenties maybe and so sad. tan for a white girl with rasta looking (or maybe just dirty) hair. the picture was nice. the girl was beat and tired or sad and after a couple seconds propped her arm on the window and dash of the shitbox and buried her head in it. her head close to the glass and not looking at the road. i was sad for her. the lanes to the left got their light and turned off left down the highway so i picked up my water and stared for a while. its ok to stare if nobody is watching you. this girl, this kid, i couldnt help feeling she didnt belong there. why was she so depressed? boyfriend left her, hard day at work, family evaporating... it is impossible to know. i wanted to talk to her, to reach out and touch her and know what was the reason for her sadness, her toeing my lane, running the red light, being in the shitbox. this wasnt right. the light turned green and clearly she wasnt watching so i deftly and easily toed my throttle and eased off while keeping an eye on her as she recognized my sound... recognized my sound... and lifted her weary head to follow me. an old japanese small truck had drifted over to my left lane after exiting on from the highway before our light and was doing five under so i waited behind it for her to pass. to get one more look at her sad face. she didnt get on throttle much though, and turned away onto the first side street at the first light. where was she going... home? to kill herself? to see someone... such a sad girl and i wanted her so badly to be there with me instead of alone in the shitbox. with me instead of sad, instead of weary. she disappeared behind the trees behind me and i pulled out into her lane and drove off.

very much not in the mood to write tonight but i will for the simple sake of getting it all out. cleansing the system... you know how it is.

adventure today: went and got a flat tire fixed on my mothers car. of course it ended up being more complicated than that but for a while my directions were pretty straightforward: get flat right-rear mended; switch it with the spare; and have the tires rotated. the man that attended me was fairly short and probably in his early thirties and had a good friendly demeanor about him. he made the process easier than it had to be and pleasant to boot. he pointed out the elementary flaw in my father's plan which is that by moving the spare and the left-rear to the front (the front tires are better than the rears) the front would have a new right tire and an old left tire and would pull to the right due to better traction. never a good idea. this was alleviated when he got me to call pops up. so i ring his mobile and tell him that 'mike from ____' was here and wanted to talk to him. mike explained the situation and worked out a new plan from the remnants of the failed one. i sat in the lobby (basically a quarter of the same room: bad television on drink machine, three sets of two chairs - one of each occupied after me) and cracked my new hip dense reading material for a go. turns out it was so dense i only read thirteen pages the entire time i was there. go figure. mikes people find a problem in the tire. he calls me over and explains there is a nail (a nail!) in the tire and was pretty much fucked. he could get two new tires from his warehouse in-town and rotate them on the front (my father on the phone agreed) but it would take an hour and a half or so. ok so im stranded at the tire place with a broken phone and a dense book. 'all my children' had just come on abc. deciding to make it a bold day i took the book under one arm and strolled out across the strip mall (careful for holes and earthquakes) and got my phone fixed at the alltel store at the other end. the man working there looked lonely so i talked politics for a couple minutes and did a stupid bush impression so he gave me a new antenna for only ten dollars (retail thirteen). actually he just didnt have change. but i appreciated it anyway.

feeling hip and bold i strolled over to the chinese place next door and ordered (because it was only three dollars) a large hot and sour soup. well... much to my surprise a large hot and sour soup is something around 24oz. oh holy mother of soup. (hot and sour soup is a jumble of all sorts of stuff. sprigs, greens, leeks, mushrooms, tofu, chicken, fungus... etc. appears to have been collected out of the bottom of a chinese pond) i walk proudly back into the tire place with my book and a big brown bag of chinese and resume my sitting. popped out my mother of all soups and sat with a spoon and ate it while watching the soap. used a dollar i didnt have before the soup to buy a sunkist from the machine. feeling cool now ohh yeah. mother of all soups and a sunkist and i am the hippest kat in the tire place. believe it. people generally appreciated the rule of singularity and didnt pay any attention to me at all although when mike walked in the door i raised my mother of all soups in a macho sort of toast and made some inane comment about the length of time i would be spending there. yes, go me. the next half hour or so was spend in routine fashion. eating soup, drinking sunkist, staring at the standard blue and white diamond floor, watching 'all my children' (which i understand) and reading my superdense material. that and checking the bathroom locks. one time it was actually unlocked so i used it... just after the soup. i was in there so long that i ate all the soup... all of it. amazed myself and probably nobody else but thats good enough for me. im sure i was subtle enough in gloating by waiving the empty container about and asking mike where a trashcan was. im sure he appreciated it.

so later as i was finally called up to pay etc. i decided to well... brighten mikes day a bit. i tried to slip him a fortune cookie with my credit card ("they gave me two...") but he would take it. i turn and offer it to both a middle aged man and a cute teenage girl behind me (who giggled) but neither saw it fit to take. maybe they suspected i poisoned it or something. so much for that. so chinese brown bag, book, bill and keys in hand i stroll out and into my ride (my mothers ride) and back home. adventurous... hell yes i am.


tonight driving home from soccer and listening to some tunes (dig it) i managed to round a corner wide of a guy walking down a sidewalk. occured to me then how insignificant i can be. to that guy i was just an asshole in an suv taking a corner too fast and playing music too loud. to the woman across the intersection i was simply a silver jeep liberty. to the kid a couple miles away... i am nothing. i realized driving down that dark country road then that i had my entire life inside this vehicle: intelligible music, relations with my life, thoughts on my relationships, myself... everything in this car. in the cosmic sense of things though, my entire life is just an isolated incident on the road. just a bassbeat blur flying past. my entire consciousness on the road. to a passerby it is nothing. just as everybody i see pass on the road is tagged by their vehicle so was i. its all i am. just one human in his car. an isolated incident. even though ive had my contacts and spread my fingers deep into nebraska, new england, england, italia etc. i, i... am just an isolated incident on the road.

doubtless ive described the same night sky untold times but it never ceases to amaze me. tonight something new came to mind. want to hear it? shut up. it appeared to me as the sistine chapel did post-michelangelo. the moon (blue) nothing more than a spotlight hanging in space like some hallucinagen recurrance highlighting myself instead of the art. yeah the ceiling itself a collection of stars and the occasional cloud. clouds dont show up that well at night... typically anyway. i thought about comparing them to scars but it didnt fit so, in conjunction with the motif, picture unfinished or old-worn sistine ceiling. blank spots. rubbed clean. nah it wouldnt really be logical would it? the clouds only mask the art behind it. a mold perhaps? blech. odd that i thougt about this exact same extended metaphor a while back... perhaps the only reason its come to me tonight?

last time i was sitting (slouching...) on the white front right cushion of my family friend's '99 sea striker (with a '98 johnson 175 mmm...) heading out from atlantic beach through the infamous (to our family anyway) shifting channels to the hook and cape lookout lighthouse. far as i can figure a six-year old was at the wheel (no joke). as a prequel to tropical storm alex (femme), the storm clouds were doing a dry run (hah, pun) around the area. basically this equates to gorgeous ominous breathtaking clouds in every direction. not some hazy shit you would expect to find around here but starkly naked, defined, beautiful powerhouses. they filled the sky, individual menaces and eventually dropped a torrent (in their direct vicinity as you can tell from the water) on us at the hook. well, as i stood on the hook i could look in three cardinal directions (north, west, and south) and see seperate rain showers all heading our way. picture the garbage compacter in that original star wars movie except with three walls (yeah im having trouble with it too). and with no monster. the only downside to a storm like this, once we got back to the sea striker anyway, was that we had to enclose (3/4) the cabin to seal out (right, hah) the rain. cruising back to the lighthouse meant the vacuum created by the canopy sucked in all the lovely monoxide filled exhaust gasses from that old johnson 175. it started to bother some people and myself for a bit but was alleviated when i realized what it was and started to appreciate it for its steely ability to painlessly kill. yes, i can respect that. tangent concluded, that was the first and last time i came to use the sistine chapel metaphor.

clearly other things have happened since that continue to shape my life in every single way but nothing that i feel like explaining tonight. i could write a song about it but then again... so does everyone eventually right? as for tonight ill be content with my mojo rising. love you all (but some more than others). goodnight.