Thursday, March 24, 2011


Two weeks. Two awful fucking weeks later...

Yesterday it looked like it might all be coming to a close but today's productivity level crushed my spirits more than I can begin to understand. I should be grateful for any help at this point but I am super pissed off just the same.

These violent moments that keep me awake and are not the least bit stifled by herbal supplements and they are immune to booze. By immune I mean, made worse.

So here I sit, all sober, and sleepy, and talked out, talking more because it's never enough, and it will never BE enough... I blame it on my Americanized self.

Grateful for good friends... yes... but super pissed off just the same.

The walls are back up. Yesterday made me feel like I could take on the world. Today just feels like I'm being swallowed up by chaos.

Eh, it'll all be over soon enough and there will be something else. So what do I do but sit around and wait for something that might alter my heartbeat. Isn't that what we're all doing?

Mold removal... sucks ass. Just thought you should know. Oh, and here's a bit of advice... NEVER have a tub installed by someone who ISN'T a certified plumber... they will fuck your shit up and insurance won't deal with you. I'm starting to wonder why I renewed my policy... I can think of a million things I could do with that money that might serve some purpose aside from taking up space in a filing cabinet in the form of documents that do nothing but collect dust and provide a little peace of mind in case of a REAL disaster. Or something. I'm sure Japan could think of a few ways to use it too.

Everything is amazing and nobody is happy. I'm seriously stranded in the wrong time. I belong in the woods. Barefoot and smiling. I can't wait for muggy days again. Humidity so thick it makes breathing hard in the face of a blazing sun.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Saturday, March 12, 2011

It is what it isn't

Trying to get out of an empty ocean
feverishly clawing at walls of sand and fish bone
Gashes in my hands clot with salty gains
The fire in my flesh does not stop me

yet I get nowhere

The dim turns dark
The dark turns light
The light turns bright
Humor escapes for an escape
as a twisted joke

The lights burst, glass flies
Screaming hoards of drunken men
brawling for reasons unknown

I'm pushed to a place
Unable to reach
As my children are mutilated
by the untamable crowd

And still I can not weep
Forward is all I know

yet I get nowhere.