1.26.18 – Verbal Disorder

I say that there’s enough going on in my life that I feel obliged to ‘take seriously’ that, when out on the town on a Friday night, the clothes I wear or even the things I do in those moments do not warrant even remotely the same degree of concern, which was already barely subsistent for the life I lead. If I’m going to go out, anywhere, it’s my glasses that pretty much delineate the only self-consciousness I have while in the public eye, and as long as I’m wearing my contacts, I could give fuck all what anyone thinks of what I’m wearing or doing or saying, because I’m already about 98% confident that it’s going to be exactly what I intend to be doing, and if that doesn’t sit well with you, it’s your problem and not mine. There certainly is a difference between dressing up to be somewhere and just sort of ending up there in whatever clothes you happened to be wearing all day, but the fact stands, as far as I’m concerned, that unless you’re out to a gala at the fucking Ritz, nobody at a bar that offers bocce ball courts out in Oakland gives a shit what you’re wearing or knows anything about you as a person, and if you’ve been dressed that way all day, that’s more realistic of you than anything you could ‘put on’. I guess I’m led to believe that if I were trying to put anything on for someone that I would want them to see me for what I am, rather than what they want to see – whether or not I’m always honest or capable of that is a different story, but I’d like to think that I give people what they’re bound to get. What use do either of us have in my giving them anything else? And it stops there, like, if you’re not dressing up for yourself, what more do you feel the need to prove to anyone else than that you are exactly who you are? It’s not a big fucking deal, it’s just you existing out to get a drink like everyone else, and it means as much to them as it does to you, I swear it. I’m just trying to live my own best life over here for my own sake, and I guess there’s a serious disconnect between that and where what I look like or what I’m wearing even remotely comes into it.

I know I’m missing the point. I know it’s how you feel, regardless of what you’re wearing or what anybody actually thinks. I know it’s mental, just like the last 5 miles of the marathon. But… treat it like a marathon then; that’s where I’m unable to fully sympathize. If it’s a mental matter, and, like a marathon, it comes down to deciding how you’re going to approach and feel about a particular thing in order to get yourself through it: if you decide that you will stay stable through these last miles, that you’ve made it this far, and that you’ve done it all before, and that this is nothing new, then why can’t the same be done for something like the clothes you’re wearing on a Friday night out, or the food available at the really cool bar you happen to be at downtown? If it’s your brain telling you things are one way, and you know it, then why can’t you actively decide to tell your brain that they are, in fact, some other way? What makes that mental game different from any other? I want to understand. I want to empathize and accommodate and make this work between the two of us. However if there’s going to be this idea that I’m doing something wrong by being accommodating and by trying to take charge of things so that you don’t have to, and I’m going to be the bad guy in either case, based entirely on how you feel in a given situation, that’s going to be difficult for me to maneuver, not because I don’t want to maneuver it, but because it’s a maze with no clear goddamn path. That’s hard, okay? I want to parse out the best ways to ensure that things work out for you, and I’m liable to spend my life doing that, but I’m under the impression that even that doesn’t matter many times, that it’s the fact that a problem which someone needs to address exists, above even what the issue actually is. Try as I might to appease or accommodate or adjust myself to what may or may not be, nothing I do matters more than the fact that you don’t feel right about yourself, and while I cannot do anything about it, ultimately, I’m also at fault for not doing anything about it, or for not getting it.

I don’t know where the fuck you’ve run off to now, and I do care but I feel I ought not to, because you made it pretty clear that you’d’ve rather been alone on the way home tonight, shy of not ever having come out with me at all. All you wanted to do was go home, and once we got here you left again. I don’t know whether it’s me or not, but I like to think that I’ve made it abundantly clear that I want to do whatever is necessary to come to a compromise between the lives we’re each trying to lead. Perhaps I really haven’t made it clear, and have only repeated it to myself. I might be ‘out of pocket’ but I’m not an idiot, and I understand when things are going as they’ve been surmised to be going, and that is most certainly the case here. At a certain point, I suppose, this whole thing is my fault, for you wouldn’t have even been out here if it weren’t for me, would never have had to go through all the trouble and stress of getting yourself situated out here, and wouldn’t have felt as though you banked so heavily upon me in the process. I don’t know how else to tell you that I’m doing the same goddamn thing as you out here, I’m just trying not to take the shit so goddamn seriously, because it doesn’t make it any more serious or critical, it just stresses us out more and costs us sleep, and does no one any good. It’s not rocket science. Look at what you’re doing and what you want to change, and make those changes and see what happens, and improve yourself from there, based on what feels good to you, what feels optimal. I swear to god it doesn’t matter whether your disorder has a name or not, we’re all doing the same fucking thing, and the only one who can do anything about it is you.


1.23.18 – Freestyle XI

It’s a race against time then, and not much else at all is worth running for
A hundred more lines, or a thousand and maybe a single one of them hints at the truth
Or they all do, really, but it’s up to the rest of existence to make some sense of it
And I to give them as many opportunities to do so while I’m here to keeping trying shit
What isn’t it now? What are you waiting for? Tell me, what more do you need to be, to be?
In not so much time I’ll be more than that, different, and I can never speak to that person again
What isn’t worth capturing, in this moment, what isn’t worth using your existence for?
Every book that I rebind, every verse I record somewhere – physically, let’s do more of that
And less of… well, I’m lazy, and apparently more likely to get high that heightened to any state
I’m cold-blooded, operate best in the sun per my reptilian instincts, and couldn’t care less
About anyone else, I’m so hung up on my own is and aren’ts that I’ve no time to notice yours
But of course, I do still, and fall for you, and fall behind myself, true crime – I said I have no time
And obviously, I do. Still, if all we’ve got is a shot at making a difference in another’s existence
And there’s so much to existence you and I will never get through, it only seems right to do
As much as you can manage, as long as you don’t lose yourself in them, you are them
By them, of them, for them, humanity is so much more autographic with me as a bookbinder
And so much more musical with my sounds bouncing around in it, ringing off each new ear
And so much cleaner and greener for every can and cardboard carton picked up off the curb

I don’t ever want to host a house party, just to entice a group of people into my sphere
I don’t like to mingle, like getting a taster spoonful of every flavor in the Coldstone cooler
And leaving without settling on anything, or having the enhancement of any flavor at all
When we first meet, we ask each other the same questions, no matter the scenario
We always default to the same few queries of each other, such that we just say the words really
Without ever asking a question as though you wanted the answer, because we don’t
Nobody wants to waste their life away listening to what anyone else has to tell about their life
There’s no time, all I can afford to beg you to praise me or commiserate with mine, cyclically
Look at me, here I go, here we all are, because I can’t stand being alone with myself
What do I do if I have nothing to busy my mind, keep me outside of myself so I can say I’m fine
I have nothing to prove to any of you, it’s myself I mean to impress, and I digress by saying so
I suppose I’d rather be here, graphically digressing, under the guise of latent artistry
The hardest bit is the part where I have the dreams and the means but just won’t wake up
So apathetic to my current status, subsisting at it, that I’ve done nothing to remove myself
All these ideas I have of what I could be, I should be, but I haven’t set to make any moves
Nope, still sittin’, and ever-more wishin’ I was elsewhere, that I had something to back me
Some-thing. For me. Selfishly I just want to be valuable to everyone else just like they do
I’m just as hopeless, hoping that I can do something to prove me wrong for your sake
But it’s all made up anyway, and if you really have something to say it needs no warrant

And maybe I just don’t, or I won’t because I’m sure as hell not putting any effort in it now
There’s no reason for it other than a lack of focus, a lack of purpose even, no right move
Because without a direction I’m tossing darts at the horizon, swimming in circles
And the water is fine, or it could be, but still it isn’t enough, which just begs more questions
Am I better off trying my whole life to change it, or I ought I just learn to be happy with what is
And is not? I’ve got plenty of time to decide, if having an answer is all that matters to you
The fact of the matter is, in either case, you won’t find anything without keeping your eyes open
And you won’t ever hold something valuable unless you go out and grab it for yourself
So wait or not for the answer of whether or not it’s worth the effort, but take something out of this
And put something back, you, by, of and for us all, and for yourself, with the time you’re granted
In another moment, you will be entirely new, and looking back on what you did or did not do
And the only one who it matters to keeps regurgitating the same few mantras every morning
Mourning his own inaptitude… inactitude, and then perpetuating the shit for no one’s sake, cyclically

Eventually something’s gotta pop, I tell myself, every afternoon with a millimot doting on my own ego
In reality, either I’m gonna decide to grab or never have the chance to let it go, no holding back
For all that’s left to know, a few things about me are pretty damn clear and I still manage to mute them
Refute or transmute then, pretend I’m doing dutifully what I set my mind on beautifully, the dreams
Accrue in me, still I sit silent and stupidly and watch the world spin by, wondering what to do
The answer is something, anything, as long as it is true. If you conceive it, it’s you.

‘But I did not believe in a
Heaven and hell world of opposite’s kind of reality
And I gained control of myself
And I decided to press on’

The Chemical Brothers – ‘The Golden Path’

1.7.18 – Tipping

I don’t want to hear any more about what you ‘almost were once’
Your through-rose-colored-glasses-cast past-tense fantasies
Facsimile, similar only in the sense that you’re living next year’s story still
Spare me your good intentions, they’re stops you never made on your way here
Where did you come from?

What are you made of that your recipe doesn’t explicitly list?
What do I taste when I’m near you – I don’t want to hear you
Pining for the life that you too missed, all that’s gone unmixed
Unless your soul-stirrings render any sort of reality out of you
Unless you’ve moved to produce a new facet or two out of your confusion
It’s as ephemeral… and now it’s already ancient history, incapable and unworthy of discovery

Someday you told me you were about to… but then life happened
As if there were anything else happening
If life gets in the way of you living, you really are in a sorry state
You’re making it as it makes you, the beach between will and was
No grain waits for the waves to pause, nor does the sea seek an inland lap
But the balance is struck on just that front, and we call the sea as we see it, be because and in spite of it
The tide might guide you by its own logic, but those who tread in place can’t blame the water

Consider yourself a leaf on the breeze and you’ve already lost the will to live
Dropped off and ceded your green to other tree-steepled, fare falling to the whim of the wind
Is air too to be blamed for refusing to cessate, ferment along with you?
If ever there was a futile fancy it was in they who proposed that time alone will tell us anything
It will tell us everything, and you’re worse off with that than you are with a blank slate
Then, at least, you’ll have no choice but to be more, every stroke new, every idea a breakthrough
We would rather wallow in our insatiable search for knowledge than steep in a simple truth
That being that being is its own reward, and you’d spend your victory lap reviewing the receipt

Meet me at the crossroads of all that you will never fulfill, and we’ll drive in circles until we’re blue in the face
In the passenger seat is your fear, not of failure, but for your lack of a map
Your soul the backseat driver who’s never led you astray, still you mostly demand that they look out the window, stifling
And how clearly it all blurs past from that vantage point while you stare straight ahead
Unable to brake, and unwilling to challenge your perception of what may or may not be beyond the city limits

Climb to the top of a mountain, but before you do ask it kneel before you, place you atop itself
And after, look out over all those who were like you, and understand why it did not
It’s not a matter of anyone pulling the ladder up behind them – it’s the ladder which makes the summit worth anything
Would we be anywhere without going there, and if so, what would any place be but between the last and the next?
What a way to turn all the world to a snowglobe; to make yourself even smaller than you started
If only we would take a single step with our own feet, a single sidewalk would hold a new universe with each

1.10.18 – Self IX

I think I have goals but I can’t or won’t set them

I roll them around but I never accept them

I either over or under-vet them

I see them out so far ahead of me, or so vaguely, that the blurred span of color over time is not insignificant but utterly unknowable and socially I’ve no bolster to do anything about it

I can tell you in one minute that every second of existence is a witness and party to the infinite miracles out here, how everything comes around in its proper place, and comes about with good reason, according to the universal logic, then the next minute I will drop them all on the floor as they come because I don’t have enough time to decide what to do with them.

You just gotta do what you do and it shouldn’t be so hard to sustain something like that. Keep the energy in, direct it, don’t give it up or allocate towards anything that you can’t enhance yourself with. Grow upwards, not outwards. There’s no such thing as a meaning if you would only take the time to realize. You’ve got it. You let it go, You retain it and you let it show. Get it, go. Only one thing left for me to take on yet and its the essence of humanity. Let your vanity loose, spruce it, make no use of it if you can handle doing so. You would go the top of any ice cream cone if you managed it. Here were are now though. Let’s get ready for a piece of the coming, and maybe be that much more aware of how ready it is to you. You’ haven’t got the time to wait, just the energy to pull minutes closer to you, a magnetic self, bringing the universe on into yourself and through again. The last time you made any effort to move, there were stars falling as a result. They’re yours now. We’ve taken them, made a gold chain and lain to rest anything that ever weighed us down, made us frown, laid us crown. Bade a scoundrel to do your bidding, and all that is is good in you will sharpen and hone all that is lustful, greedy. Win your own ring, and pursue yourself with a fiercer passion than anything you see here. Everything that follows is a result of what you see here. What do you see, hear? What is now that must be taken advantage, and which will not wait for the future under any circumstances, begging us to be a part of it? Where will we go without going there a single step at a time, and which of those steps can we ever take but the next one? There’s no such thing as the achievement of normalcy, of purpose, of humanity, but we are all meant to be a part of this, to create and it and be created by it, see it bud, flower and come to fruition in our own time, and rot while the rest of the perpetual forest lives and dies on.

Empathy/Apathy. Base what you say on the good it can do for humanity, and regard what humanity does with what good it can do for you. I live for everyone else because it’s important to me to do so. I have all there is to learn and to contribute back into the cycle, and anything which won’t enhance you, your ability to create and to contribute and to own it, it’s not worth picking up, and in fact you are not living for them at all, because they do not know what good you can do, only you do. Therefore the outside comes in filtered through apathy, and a sense keeping yourself in a seat of priority before accepting anything you witness, and the inside goes out through a screen of empathy, and should not make it out into the world if it will not do it some net good. Any way that you can make yourself better for the sake of everyone around you… it’s just so obviously superior to doing anything for any other reason. It may well be as simple as setting that perspective for yourself, to believe that you are doing good for the world by doing good for yourself, which causes it to be so. Or this is just exactly what I need to make sense of it…

It’s on me now. It is me. I’m here writing this out without a clue where it’s got to. Where did stop while it kept on, mentally I am not the type to get ahead. I’d rather put the back of it to the grass and let the breeze whistle through my ears as it goes. Where the sunshines, I shine. Photosynthetic. I make light of the situation. In any case, I’m as unaware as the next guy to try and make something of himself, and we don’t enough consider the ingredient list nor consciously let go of it. Be rare. But be that, or obscure, it’s only fair. Pair the skill and what suits you with the will to do it. We’ve got the better option in our hands, in our back pockets, tattooed over our arteries. Don’t leave it on the kitchen table when you rush out to work in the morning. Measure it against what you thought you were capable of, not against what you think anyone else wants. It’s there in everyone and you fucking know what I’m talking about, even if you don’t too refer to it as the ‘soul’. You feel it when you’re there, and you don’t have to tell me or anyone but it is, but you have a responsibility to humanity to profess it to yourself, and what you do with it then…. your prerogative will be to quit holding back, and you will create as you were created, and be not a minute more by your life, but for your life


So very little of this cityscape is organic. Who raised that pole, planted that bush, laid that grate, smoothed that sidewalk, lives in that house, dropped that broken glass bottle? One just like you. Nothing you see is without some element of humanity, some personality, some something that might have been you, something normal. Which parts are yours? Who painted those lines? Who cares? Who wants to paint lines someday? Who just wants to care someday?



I am never held back or kept from my intentions by rules as much as I am by my own will

Mmkay, so what are you gonna do with that?

Well, I need to just take ownership and do those things and move past my distractions and excuses and believe in my goals and do what I’m meant to do

Which is…?

…I don’t know. I don’t know what I want exactly.


Words. I want words. I like writing them, making them, reading them, using them. Find the right words.

The right words for what?

The right words… to describe… the truth… reality. The words to capture reality. To share this reality. To share life. The right words to pass on something meaningful from what I’ve learned from my time here, something outside of myself.

You need to write religiously. Seriously. Read like it’s study, apprenticeship, rather than a hobby or something to pass the time. You hate your present habits but it has nothing to do with their monotony – stultification –  and everything to do with keeping the wrong habits. Work at what you know you must and at least you will know you’ve made some progress in some intentional direction.

Now, like the man out his car window said: ‘Put your phone away and live your damn life’


That thing that you had been hiding for so long – didn’t it kill you?

Didn’t it claw at you from within; twist you to nausea like guilt so often does?

Maybe you’re just stronger than me – I know that’s what you thought.

It pissed you off that I always kept my cool. I made a point of keeping it, and I still do.

To you, my lack of hostility made me soft. I never knew what the thing that made you soften was.

Your entire life you were falling, and you never let me catch you until you were caught.


Try disparaging yourself more deeply

Cutting yourself down more comprehensively

Perhaps then you’ll finally be rid of all the reasons to go on

Maybe to aim so low is already too much of a direction for someone looking to be lost


I’m walking briskly like the breeze

As it’s whisking through the trees

And we’re both doing so with ease

And yet I’m wary with good reason


For the temperature’s a tease:

It’s getting cooler by degrees

Still balmy, mind you, for a freeze

Is quite unlikely for the season


Still a skeptics heart would seize –

It seems it’d take only a sneeze

The skies to pop, populace flees

And dryness take a try at treason


But now… the clouds must hear my pleas

Deem them sufficient to appease

Without my dropping to my knees

The sky beheld – so quelled, a boon


Because for now there’s but the breeze

And time for birds and boys and bees

To sing and saunter as they please

Til nigh’s the rising of the moon