Sunday, December 18, 2011

Cigar smoke, scotch sipping, and a bad attitude.

Notebook dreams, reality checks.
The rules are different, the bar is low.
You are not as controversial as you'd like to be.
You are not a star.
You are nobody, and nobody cares.
You are matter in a body, as this world is matter in the cosmos.

You are plastic, disposable.
You are a sticker on my trash can.
I can write your history, I already lived your life.
I already fought for your goals, I already fucked your groupies.
They told me I was special.
I believed them, like fools gold.

We are lost, insignificant, and self important.
Naked and loose, carefree cannonball.
As artistic as jazz from days gone by.
In a moment that is lost in a time that is forgotten.
Part of the movement that won't be heard.
A piece of language never translated, never respected, invisible.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Once. A long, long time ago...

when was that?  A long, long time ago.  Another life.  Another era.  Years have become decades, days fade off over the horizon.  Do you remember that?  That long, long time ago?  We were much different weren't we?  Or were we?  Are we the same now?  We can't be.  There is no way.  There is no way to be the same, to much has happened, to many moments have passed.  But, are we the same?  When it comes right down to it, when we get to the core, when we get to the root, when we get so far that I see you, and you see me, are we the same then?  When we are staring blankly at each other and realize that although years have passed, it seems like merely days, merely moments, merely minutes since our last conversation.  Are we the same then?  No.  Maybe.
Are we so equally different that we are the same?  Has life aged us in a similar fashion?
Are we mutually forgotten memories in each others minds?  Do we suddenly flash at one and other, are we glimpses to each other of times gone by.  Memories of how we use to think about things, fantasies we use to have.  Aren't those silly now?  Are they?  Was what was once good, still good?  Can some things still make sense?  Can any of this ever make sense?
Does any of this make sense, can you honestly say that it does with an answer that doesn't include a God?  I'm not interested in that version.  I am not looking for option "D"  all of the above.  In fact, I'm not looking for an answer, because there is no answer.  Is that ok with you?  Can it be?  There is no answer.  That's fine, right?  It's casual.  It's cool.  Just coast.  Just float. Just let it happen.
Just let what happen?  Things are not meant to just happen.  Things do just happen.  You just happened, now what are you going to do with that?  Blind faith, hard work, the casual float?  Not my problem.  Well it is, because you affect me.  In some way, in some fashion what you do affects/effects me.  I'm not even sure if it's the "a" or "e" version, could be both.  Could be both.  M.J. was right, "you are not alone, I am here with you."  I am.
I'm not, but I am.  I'm not there with you, physically.  Perhaps I never will be.  But that doesn't mean I'm not there.

Once upon a time we sat on a porch and talked all day.  Once upon a time we saw a random movie on my last night in town.  Once upon a time we took a road trip.  Once upon a time we were all riding in the van together.  Once upon a time we had pancakes with applesauce for breakfast.  Once upon a time I watched television at your house while my parents were at work.  Once upon a time you had me look at my first dirty magazine.  Once upon a time we kissed.  Once upon a time we screamed at each other and ran chasing one another street to street.  Once we played a game, and I won, and you were mad, but not really.  Once we played guitars in the garage until it was time to go home.  Once we snuck beer, and drank it, and thought we were cool.  Once upon a time we met.  Once upon a time we spent an awful lot of time together.  We were close.  Now we are memories.  Or living ideas.
Sometimes that can be enough to remember forever.

Thursday, May 26, 2011


It's once again been too long since I last posted.  This is something I hope to remedy in the future, but I usually find some other way to occupy my time other than writing this blog.  It's also been a busy month.
Transitions are a brewing, and these transitions are almost over.  They have almost become the new norm.  I knew the process would take a little while, but have been so absorbed by that path, that I hadn't seen the finish line, until now.
My lady and I have moved across the country.  That is not news to any of my friends, through the wonders of the internet you are all perfectly aware that I now live in Portland OR.  My Nashville friends have seen that movement, and while I was there just last week, it was as if I had just been on an extended vacation.  However the truth is I was not, I live in Portland.  My Los Angeles friends have seen me move twice, my Austin friends have seen me move 3 times, unless you count the 2 and a half months I lived there before Nashville, then they have seen me move 4 times.  Still, none of us are strangers, although we are, the world wide web keeps us in contact and makes us feel as if we are still united.  In some ways we are, in the day to day we're not.  It's a strange life.
Before I left Nashville I had perfect strangers ask me why I would move.  I had one perfect stranger tell me that I had moved too much in my life.  He advised me to stop and settle in somewhere, find a community to become a part of, partake in that life.  He honestly had a slew of advice, especially for a man I had never met before.  I tried to take his advice into account, although initially I was annoyed.  I mean, this was the first conversation I had ever had with him, who was he to tell me how to live my life, or advise me towards the proper path?  Still, I couldn't completely ignore his logic.  Although it wasn't truly for me at that moment, he did have a point.  There is a peacefulness in being part of a bigger picture, there is a void to fill when you are constantly changing your surroundings and starting over.  Although I have grown from all of my experiences, I have maintained a certain state of being.  Always looking ahead, not focusing on the present.  Always thinking that if I went somewhere else, things could be different, life could be new and more rewarding.  In some instances that's true, in some instances it's ignorant.  I suppose it's the difference between searching and running.  Which one are you doing?  For myself, I think it was a combination, until now.  Every destination I moved to was for a goal, a purpose, a bigger picture.  It was a means to achieve an objective.  I wanted success.  I did what I thought was right to find that.  This time was different, this time I moved for myself and not for a goal.  This time I think I have found the right path for me, this time I created a plain that I could expound on.
So, here I am.  My new life.  It is different than I thought it would be, but it always is, and at least this time I expected that.  In my new manner I am practical.  In my new manner I am in the present.  In my new manner I know that the things that I want can come to me in due time, but if I want them the way that I do it is best to be true to myself and not worry about what's popular or what others say I should do.  Lot's of folks throw that novelty advice around, "follow your heart," blah, blah, blah....but I don't know that many of us truly understand what that means.  Or at least, I didn't exactly know what that meant.  I think these days I have a grasp.
So, lead me on my little angel, my little buddha, my little monkey, lead me on.

Friday, April 29, 2011

somethings burning...

no really, something is burning inside.  I don't mean in a funny way or that I have an aching desire, I mean my esophagus is burning.  The first swig of coffee I took this morning charred my insides and now everything is painful.  I think I am suppose to drink milk or something like that, but all there is, is almond milk, and I don't think that has the same effect.

All of this is beside the big picture point here.  That is unless I am showing the first signs of a great illness, in which case, it is entirely the point.  The point is, I'm thinking, that I moved across the country again!  The move to Nashville was suppose to be it, that was suppose to be my final move.  I'm not sure why in my mind, that was the final move, but I remember that it was suppose to be.  It wasn't.  I live in Portland now.  I brought a girl with me too!  Seriously.  Growing up is odd.

I still think of myself as a child.  I act the same as I always have.  It's just when I was young I acted too responsible and now, maybe not responsible enough.  It's like the whole idea of responsibility lapsed over my head somewhere mid/late twenties and now I'm behind the ball instead of in front of it.  I can't really worry too much about that one, I have far too many practical things on my mind for the near future.  Working would be a good one.  I do like, not working.  The folks that don't have to work too much and get to travel the most, oh, the lucky ones.

There are so many things to see, so many things to do.  I fear that I'll whined up working for someone else's dream for the rest of my life and not see the things that are out there.  And speaking of all the beautiful things out there to see, sometimes I don't see the things inside me, like my goals, my drive, my vision or my burning esophagus.  Sometimes I forget their there until they reach out from within and squeeze.  It's those moments when I know, I'm either not paying attention to the moment, or I'm being and asshole for no real reason.

hey.  best we can right.  best we can.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Come again?

Sometimes the earth just seems to move slowly.  You can sense it, and you stop to grasp it, but you cannot, and then it seems to move again, still slowly, but just out of reach.  It's not that you even know what you're reaching for, but you feel the need, the desire.  You're not even sure why you are pausing or what has made you stay still to absorb the moment.  Time just stops, and then slowly starts again, but everything has changed.  You are no longer listening to music in the car, you are no longer driving it.  You are pulled over, you have turned the stereo off, even though the lyrics of the tune you were listening to were speaking to you for the first time, even though you have heard that song more than a few times, suddenly that time it was speaking to you, suddenly that time it made sense and struck a chord within your body, but it still became less important than the feel of the earth, and the wag of the trees, the wind blowing, softly.  You're not even sure what is going on, what you are feeling.  You are not sad, you are not angry.  You are not hungry.  You are not drunk, you are not stoned.  You are stone cold sober, and moved.
It's the silent mystical pause that you wish could last a thousand lifetimes.  The security of the moment is the security you try to maintain daily and yet never achieve.
As soon as you realize it exists, and it exists all around you, it's gone.  Like a vanishing ghost that merely brushed you by.  Like a blanket of hope, understanding, acceptance and love that you could smell but not touch or see.
Is that God?  Is that Mother Earth?  Is it the presence of a lost friend, a lost love, lost family?  The further you dissect it the less special it becomes.  You just have to leave it.  Actualize it, and move forward.  It's gone.  It's over.  It will come again though.  Around and around, it will come again.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

back to the begining

back to the scratch paper, back to the rough ideas, back to the nonsense that you thought made sense the first time through.  back to the burners, back to the haze, back to the forgotten nights that made so much sense.  back to the lost conversations that changed your life.  back to the empty black hole of existence.  or is that a choice?
Sometimes I think it is a choice.  Sometimes I think living in a never-ending escapist lifestyle is the ever present choice to despair and anger, some sort of resentfulness towards life.  It just doesn't have to be like that, does it?  You choose your company and conversations.  You choose your attitude and approach.  You choose your business and your lifestyle.  These aren't just things that happen to you.  These are things you let happen to you, you encourage happening to you, you create happening to you.
We could all change our lives everyday.  We could all wake up and be different people.  It is prisons and mindsets that some of us hold ourselves in.  It's taking chances, and putting ourselves through fear that make lasting differences.  It's easy to actually do and hard to honestly do.
Most of us never do it.  We never change.  We think about changing, we talk about changing.  We give ourselves different ideas for change.  Things we can conceive ourselves doing, but we don't do them.  Or, we do for a little bit and return.  Some of us hold out.  Some of us change.  Some of us see the abundance of difference it can create in our lives, and some of us never do.

this game isn't easy.
this game isn't even really a game.  it just makes it easier to take in that way.

all of this is real.

the thing is, you never really have the answer.  you guess.  you guess to the best of your abilities, daily.

no one has the answers.  you can look for them.  some folks can help, some can hurt, some can give you insight you never had, but none will ever have the answer for you.  it's empty.  it's sad.
make it funny, give it humor, laugh at it.  laugh at the realness of reality.
you silly bastard, reality.  I'm on to you.

but I'm not on to you, and you know it.  you see through me.  you see me.  you know me.   you know me better than I know myself.  at least, sometimes I believe that you do.  and sometimes I think I am losing my mind as well, much for my opinion.

it's much has happened.  so much is happening.  so much that needs to be said, so much that needs to be typed.

I just keep losing it.  losing focus.  losing focus on purpose, and trying to find it for fun.

who am I these days?  where did I go, and where exactly am I going?  but does that matter, that's the kicker, does that matter, really?  it can, right?

I cannot believe that I haven't written anything since November.  I vowed to do this weekly and  I didn't get very far.  Weekly in my mind turned to monthly, monthly turned to whenever, whenever turned into never.  I figured no one reads this, so who cares?  That isn't really the point though.  The point is I got speechless.   I thought of a million things to write about but wrote about none of them.  Now it's time to backtrack, time to get started again, time to continue my internet therapy in a flow of blog-dom.

it's like "hello nasty, where you been.".......?