tyler's cover of "as we go up, we go down"

this one night

there was some rainbow kaleidoscope fog

pre-winter blues

nothing will come of anything. any shred of creativity i can materialize will be disregarded, misunderstood, or resented by someone. i'm tired of working so hard and having nothing to show. my progress gets eaten by the slice. i miss being poor. i don't have the energy for anything anymore. i weep because i'm tired and weary. i weep because my back hurts all the time. i weep because the ground doesn't push back hard enough when i tread on it. maybe when i'm dead...someone will find my blog and my flickr account in some dusty rubbermaid container in a storage facility and scan them into the mainframe or matrix or whatever. maybe when i'm dead i'll roll over in my grave for the last time and finally get some rest. but probably not.

question: why did first wives club just come on tv at my parents' house? question 2: why haven't i changed the channel?

i take your pictures. i make the world wait while i smoke cigarettes. i'll sew up the holes in your sweaters and in his socks. i will praise you. "i'm with them", you were mistaken when you thought you had to introduce yourself to me. i'm just an appendage. not even a muse. oh, the shadow in your background, tip toed tyrant pacing like a lost survivor on a ghost ship.

ya'll i was just thinkin....

yea, maybe people on the west coast get to watch the sun set over the ocean...but we get to watch it rise

i just want to remember this conversation with oscar

"enable cookies so i can watch hbo"

"i don't know how"

"just google it you lazy coke head"

i want to read every book ever written

i got this funny feeling in my back that i needed something. i thought i needed a cigarette, then i realized i was already smoking one. it's like losing your glasses when they're on your head or looking for your phone and explaining your frustrations to the person you're talking to on it...and like, if i've got strings on my heart I've never heard them make a sound. everything i touch turns to....

do you ever get the feeling that you're getting old and haven't ever finished anything you've ever started? no? just me?

david lynch joint

sometimes i pass by a mirror and i wonder how my mother got into my apartment without me knowing.

all nights lead to tarot

i don't think i belong to anything. i have no pack. i'm just floating here and there. not relevant, just temporary.

"I choose to be a figure in that light,
half-blotted by darkness, something moving
across that space, the color of stone
greeting the moon, yet more than stone:
a woman. I choose to walk here. And to draw this circle. "

love will save you
but it won't save
me

no more mama's boys. no more assuming the best. no more cages. no more tattoo groupies. no more relying on anyone. this is the year of fuck it. this is the year of accepting ourselves and others without pretense, delusion, or misguided expectations. self destruction in moderation and without regret. i feel like myself again. the highs are better and the lows are lower but i'm still finding middle ground and it's no longer stagnant like a reservoir full of mosquito eggs. it's more like an ocean now. ebb and flow, the moon is always pulling at me because she doesn't hold grudges.

self loathing is overrated but...

i am a pretty terrible person. someone told me once, after touching a quartz crystal of mine, that i was twisted up inside and i don't want to change. and maybe it's true. i take comfort in pain. i turn the hearts of anyone close to me into ice. my psyche looms like a drought sometimes, turning the soil barren and picking every last shriveled leaf off the trees. i don't know what i'm looking for. i'm pretty sure if i found it, i'd just crush it in my hand and continue searching.

whenever i hold a wine glass, i want to squeeze it until it shatters in my hand.

farther than everything

cold flower heads are raining over my heart