Post christmas

Somehow, you never get what you really want.

In the past, I'd go into an anti-materialist rant, but I'd feel hypocritical if I did it today. Not because I found happiness in what I got, but because I took what I got with the normal, content smile. Maybe I was happy for a minute there.

Then again, I'm glad I got something. Glad I don't have nothing. Lucky kid, I am.

Lucky for no good reason.

That buzz you hear is a million little fires

Fortune 500 conglomorates.
Building caverns in the ground for expanses combustable liquides.
Monotone, but everyone's quiet.
'cuz they got the money that we all want.

A nice donation here.
A kind word there.
Pictures for their brochures.
Public relation cloud #9.

Just go along.
Wear you're nicest shirt and khakis.
Pretend you belong.
Before you come to your senses.

Try not to worry about it too much.
There's no way that they're happy.
They can build caverns for oil.
But not happiness.

hi-atus

Once upon a time, I thought I was past this. I was done, never to return. A symbol of my teenage past. Heirlooms, like all the bullshit in my room back home from high school, on a shelf gathering dust. Revisit when I'm 40 and in the midst of a nasty mid life crisis.

I'm back again for some reason.

Typing stuff that's nonsensical.

Annoyed at the priorities at hand. Running from the truth. That sort of thing. Again.

Whatever.

Meaning.

What is it that I mean again? Alone, my own definition's worthless.

Try to define myself in a way that's evident in how I live my life.

Whatever that's supposed to mean.

Step 1: Disconnect

Internet is mostly bullshit anyway. Forums are a poor replacement for the real thing.

But I have to see who is on facebook. That person I haven't seen in years. Some girl I knew in grammar school and was never really friends with. The people who you know but don't really give a fuck. Fuck that. Why do I need it? What positive effect is it to my life? Some false sense that I have hundreds of friends?

No reason to spend my life here. Try to get out and do something positive, or something. What I've been saying for years.

tea and two slices

On the bright side, I'm not actually poor.

If I was really poor, I wouldn't have a place to sleep or anything. I'm only poor on paper, with it's red ink and compounding interest. Standard highway robbery no one can touch.

I'm not poor because I don't look or dress like it. Middle class to the ultimate degree.

Maybe I should. Stop buying shit I don't need. In more than one way.

Last Light

Anvils in the sky
white and grey with anger
Last light of the sun
beaming to the top of our towers

Water suspended in the sky
updrafts of pressure
sequenced through time
until we make it to the ocean.

69th street blues

Not a prince or a king
don't own a thing
besides this soaked sweatshirt
and the shoes on my feet

No posh cafes by candlelight
at midnight
no polite doorman
just a nosy fat policeman

All I got is this st pauli pen
stolen paper
this lousy idea that
I don't know why I'm writing down

And the 69th street blues.

not going to take your shit

I don't need to take yr shit no more
I'm set free and I'm running
I don't care that you can't hear me
Mail the check I'm not coming back

I've listened too long so now
I'm acting
I've not been happy
I'm not here
Replaceable cog that's gone
much too long without oil

I can't stay cuz of your shit
So I'm not going to take it anymore.

nostard

Laid out staring up
starless sky cuz it's too bright
stare upwards and watch the
satellites an meteorites float by

No one here cuz I'm not
except the cameras in the trees
looking but I insist I'm not here

Some where without a care
or something over my head.

never.

You'll never meet him again.
Never see never smell never dream
Of a person willing to dream

Dynamic variable undead
anxious proud fearful

Never as well as now

Seek, dream, wish, stare
into the sunset
as it disappears

Gathering Storm

I can see it.
Flashes off in the distance.
Rumbles and grumbles of
Discontent, of oppression.

They're on their way.
Getting closer and closer
Shouting "God is Great"
From the rooftops.

Neda, don't be afraid.
Alex, don't worry about them.
Death will only cause this storm
To gather steam and be louder.

Violence and emotion.
Despair and defeat.
This storm will just get louder.
Until it stumbles again.

Collapsable figurine

Information.
Contained in boxes.
On paper.
In an image of a bygone president.

Information.
Stored in files.
Magnetic zeros.
Decipherable scripts.

Worthy just for you.
Until it get's minimized.
Deleted and recycled.
The refuse of the silicon age.

Y so serious?

Caller was a friend... Eventually gave himself up by rickrolling... Need a brighter side of me.

Brighter side. Cheery. Basically, fraudulent? Why should I be happy while other people get bombed tonight?

I think that perhaps even if you don't get your way, if the world is not much better for you being around, you should at least have a laugh I guess.

Or I could just read Ayn Rand and become self absorbed. Probably easier.

RESTRICTED

They're calling me. By "they", I mean someone who has a restricted number and thinks it's funny to call at really odd hours on memorial day. Not say anything when I answer, just faint static. It doesn't leave voicemail, but left a really short message once. It doesn't make sense.

Probably a fax machine on the rye. Automated call center breakdown. Either way, it's fucking creepy.

I dunno. This isn't the retreat I was looking for. So much, yet so little going on. All the annoying things you can think of, not so many fun things you can think of. Can't sleep well, have been antisocialish...

I can't help imagine it's a real person on the other end. Trying to reach out and say something but not having the words. Who would call me? What could they have to say?

Either way, like I say, this isn't fun being home.

Do I have trouble sleeping?

Dad asked that. I said no. Answer was yes. Dad was reading a newspaper story about kids who had trouble sleeping cuz they were stressed, unhappy, etc.

Great.

This doesn't feel like home.

Gotcha.

Killed a mosquito. First one of the year. Got him before he got me. That's the name of the game, don'tyouknow? Bankrupt them before they bankrupt you. It's funny to see that america, the king of capitalism, of this whole game, is starting to lose to china. If only china was really communist. They'd call the loans in and laugh as we shrunk into this quagmire of our own making.

New subject, neither you nor I come on here to listen to me rant about capitalism more.

I have a job that I think I'll end up disliking, probably. Job I'll dislike. Sounds familiar. More traps that you get pushed into by everyone around. Have to get a job, good paying job. Money you make wont be enough. Take out loans. Lots of loans. Live your life working for possessions.

Just like Tyler Durden said. Own enough stuff, and your stuff will end up owning you.

But um.

I have a ton in student loans. So I guess I have to finish college. And work the loans off. And then I'll be like, 25 and have no direction home.

And then I'll find home.

Sounds like a life plan that I'd enjoy.

I must be dreaming.

I'm running

Maybe more like jogging. As fast as my faux dress shoes can carry me. They're pretty heavy and make a weird thumping sound as I go. I'm running, in my only suit and tie, only pair of black dress pants, only pair of dark socks that don't quite match. Running, because the interview I was trying to get to was supposed to start a minute ago, and I had 10 blocks to go.

I'm late, you say? Well, normally it takes less than an hour to get downtown. I'd gotten up at 7 you see, showered and all that, got all dressed up, got on the subway by 8. No problem. Until the subway stops at some forsaken street near Columbia. Sitting there, because the train ahead of us was stopped. Minutes go by. A couple arguing silently by the door. She slaps him and walks away. The guy, chases after her. Grabs her by the shoulder and pushes her into the wall. Everyone stays still, the person next to me typing on her blackberry like nothing happened. I stand up. Breifly considering to jump on the guy if he starts wailing on her. Luckily it doesn't happen. But I'm standing there. I guess it was rude to stare.

10 minutes later and I'm going to be late for this interview. The train pulls away. I'm doomed.

This isn't the worst thing that can happen.

The love of my life that I don't have could slap me and walk away. If I had a love of my life.

This isn't the worst thing that can happen. I could be doing this every day.

The interview starts, the guy is kind of quick and witty, it's kind of odd. He starts by asking about myself, things like that.

"Do you go out drinking a lot?"

It's a serious question he just asked. I think I heard it, but the only thing I can think of is Admiral Ackbar yelling "IT'S A TRAP!" in my ear. I answer truthfully, only occasionally, like once a week. Apparently he'd rather me go out every night. He went out last night, it was a wild night.

Cool.

The interview ends. It wasn't great. At all.

It's not the worst thing that could happen. The worst thing that could happen is still on it's way.

Listen

I get the general feeling, general impression that people don't really listen to me. Or, listen to me and say that they'll do something but not follow through. The scary thing is that these people have a future job of mine in their hands and stuff.

That's just what I'm thinking.

Otherwise, I'm too busy with homework to be paranoid. Too much stuff I've been putting off. I'd rather listen to Stars of the Lid and work at my own pace and relax. (Dopamine clouds over Craven Cottage = new favorite song)

I think it's a good thing that no one listens to me here. And a bad thing that no one listens to me outside of here.

zeroFminus

our shows abt being lost are on an island
our reality abt being lost is not on TV
No on interested about those stupid other people
breathing air and getting help from others
"their" wallet, "their" 401k, "their" "nation"

This art is a lie.
Our movies are garbage about garbage.
Video killed the musician.

we speak through microphones and amplifiers
demanding love and respect, for ourselves.
for an order where ourselves are in charge

There is only order in consensus
there is only consensus when EVERYONE is listened to
Everyone is only listened to in.................

short circuited monolith

Can't sleep. Too warm. Helicopter flying low overhead.

Something about old episodes of house on mute looping on the TV.

Something about going nuts over what tomorrow brings.


When the world is sick, can't no one be well?

cake is a lie

I'm a walking hypocrisy.

I um... I've been writing on this shit for like, 3 years now.

Talk talk talk, and I'm still here, not doing anything.

Maybe later or something. I haven't forgotten. I don't have anything better to do. I don't have the courage.

Leading back to being a hypocrisy...

Hello internet

I still exist. It's been like, 3 weeks or something in school now. Kind of flew it seems.

I've not been posting. Mostly cuz I um, haven't been inspired or anything. By inspired I mean like, I haven't been out all too much in a setting where I'll have a good idea to write about. By "good idea", I mean something that's not horridly self absorbed/whiny/boring/all of above. I suppose this post falls into that category, but whatever.

Doesn't matter anyway.

White flag.

If my ideals were in any way possible, I'd sleep well tonight. [I wont sleep well tonight]

I think some people are... Amazingly great. There exists many people who are much better than myself. Then, I'm just off the face of the earth. I'm just here. Kind of too idealist to fit in, but no where charming enough to pull it off.

I'm a little lost.

the miserable/the oppressed/the dead.

People taking the bus home. From their, you know, shirt and tie, "professional" (like other people aren't professional at what they do) jobs... Making money on wall street or whatever sad thing they're doing. They're all fucking miserable. I see it in their eyes. Their attitude, devoid of anything resembling empathy. Snappy and miserable. In power, though. Going home to their middle of the line car in a park n ride, driving to their middle of the line home. Not standing up for anything, but their money and power.

Meanwhile, the kind guy chases a man out of the subway, bringing him his umbrella that was left behind. Older guy, or just perhaps just more worn out. No reason to do it, but to save a guy from walking in the pouring rain.

Why am I supposed to admire the rich? Why do we not follow around those who are technically poor, but do nice things, and take pictures of them doing nice things for people they do not know?


Meanwhile, Gaza burns and we all think it's just okay. Just okay that Israel is bombing schools. They're not terrorizing the general population. Gazans are too busy trying to survive and bury their children to be scared.