tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70679842156792539742012-01-13T01:49:12.755-08:00the truth of the line overwhelms all other considerations.j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.comBlogger751100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-46671315978608241662011-12-24T19:09:00.000-08:002011-12-24T19:09:04.649-08:00

i.want.so.much. again. again. nowitsoundslikethis.lintlikefilmysurface..ofyourskinitsangrytexture.makesmeshiverand.recoil.likeiliketodolatelywhen

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-10322952043654849562011-10-20T04:30:00.000-07:002011-10-20T04:30:05.359-07:00

And to think that I was initially just so taken with the crown molding. What a charming detail in the story we spin  About this boy meets girl next door And how You. Deserve to be capitalized Italicized Underlined And loved  In bold Sweet cursive Always. I have spent too many  Minutes In boots Worn so well and also so wrong I know I still Take solace in what few things I've managed to carry on

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-47639327290135224732011-02-08T17:46:00.001-08:002011-02-08T17:46:28.093-08:00

Its cool man but do me a favor and do something today that makes u happy.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-71171668806240027452010-11-07T02:28:00.000-08:002010-11-07T02:28:44.919-08:00

tonight I reached out and grabbed a knee for what reason i cant say or care about and i came up with a fistful of your heartbeats it caught me right in the sweet spot my throat swollen with all the shit and stewing i should learn to say in a subtle way so as not to provoke or exacerbate perhaps like everything else i scratch your surface just all wrong and just too much with a heavy hand

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-37131560042263090012009-12-08T06:13:00.000-08:002011-12-23T19:59:56.174-08:00

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-63121494348079574442009-12-08T06:10:00.000-08:002009-12-08T06:10:49.088-08:00

Now if you're feelin' kinda low 'bout the dues you've been paying Future's coming much too slow And you wanna run but somehow you just keep on stayin' Can't decide on which way to go Yeah, yeah, yeah I understand about indecision But I don't care if I get behind                                  People livin' in competition All I want is to have my peace of mind. Now

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-32457718434169191712009-12-08T02:59:00.000-08:002009-12-08T02:59:52.752-08:00

    one.  year.             [down].

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-21604195002181784492009-11-22T23:47:00.000-08:002009-11-22T23:47:41.392-08:00

Idealist Portrait of the Champion (ENFP) Like the other Idealists, Champions are rather rare, say two or three percent of the population, but even more than the others- they consider intense emotional experiences as being vital to a full life. Champions have a wide range and variety of emotions, and a great passion for novelty. They see life as an exciting drama,  pregnant with

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-47608868621296479042009-11-10T21:38:00.000-08:002009-11-10T21:38:27.026-08:00

"To be loved, love."  (Si vis amari, ama.) Ovid

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-58677773389967452742009-10-14T04:06:00.000-07:002009-10-14T04:06:31.912-07:00

Since the sink and the slip and those pills which still sit on my shelf in storage i could not bring myself to sip and then swallow without scars forming in my mind all over again i must just be crazy afterall i did hit my head rather hard and heard crack sounds like nightmare i have on nights where i curse your motives and my homelessness that time i met you i wish it was less fake and more 

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-80353093897146106852009-10-14T03:51:00.000-07:002009-10-14T03:51:31.868-07:00

I will always feel at home in New York City, despite last winter when I called the Starbucks in Union Square my home, for lack of anywhere else that would have me and at the time its funny how time is so fickle and useless in spite of what they tell me i felt fine about that corner table the one by the side door that faced what-13th street-i guess? useless alley if you ask me, really just a

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-83882450073430119602009-10-11T06:37:00.000-07:002009-12-11T19:59:35.803-08:00

i.want.so.much. again.again. nowitsoundslikethis.lintlikefilmysurface..ofyourskinitsangrytexture.makesmeshiverand.recoil.likeiliketodolatelywhen

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-9354648034100280912009-10-09T01:26:00.001-07:002009-10-09T01:26:45.623-07:00

Tonight im okay. Tomorrow is another story though.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-64845093398476120012009-10-05T01:59:00.000-07:002009-10-05T02:00:47.377-07:00

maybe.i still. want to be saved.afterall.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-82081104967449162092009-10-05T00:35:00.000-07:002009-10-05T00:37:51.266-07:00

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-76507293995574805812009-10-04T20:48:00.000-07:002009-10-04T20:57:18.246-07:00

you.you can paint me all the colors of helland sketch me.as the devil.in your books.of history and for the sake ofposterityand question marks.begginganswers of blank spacesand nonsensemakerslike meand my noiseas you say.i could care more perhapsbut why?you know too wellfor books to explainsimple thingslike existentialists and this.we are through.at least,i speak the truthand always will. and i'm

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-17781620294973016962009-10-01T09:38:00.001-07:002009-10-01T09:38:46.762-07:00

all things considered... i could be way.way.worse off.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-81489238485805211672009-09-29T00:30:00.000-07:002009-09-29T00:31:49.284-07:00

...what if. ....the usual escape routes are just. not. working.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-46557663628865403072009-09-27T05:30:00.000-07:002009-09-27T05:32:33.223-07:00

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-6883591110693820772009-09-27T02:04:00.000-07:002009-09-27T02:10:21.603-07:00

...this is all just...(spilled.milk.)...i let it soak me and i wait. for something more.just to see which will rot first.(i.win.) you called it in the air all those months and bloody noses ago. you arrogant.fuck.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-8014342495546084762009-09-23T05:22:00.000-07:002009-09-23T05:24:54.096-07:00

if i showed up at your door with jacks in my hand and challenged you to a re-match... ...would you play with me?

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-40304051933818231632009-09-23T05:06:00.000-07:002009-09-23T05:09:31.366-07:00

i want to shake myself until all the words inside my throat come unstuck and find their way out of me one by one until one day all that's left of me and my confusion is just a mess on the sidewalk perhaps there is a worse fate than this and i think, at last. i am just a shell and maybe now i can crack and break and something winged and audible and full of hunger and wonder and trying on life for

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-70857596699655004852009-09-18T04:41:00.000-07:002009-09-19T19:29:49.717-07:00

i feel like ice cubes in las vegas make as much sense as we did when every now and then you could get caught forgetting yourself and remembering why you hadn't sent me home yet but then somewhere a breeze blew static into the ancient antenna rigged up just so and we lose the connection and i am consumed by the facts i bite down on my bottom lip until blood tastes like your armor it feels familiar

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-50230902017883529762009-08-30T05:16:00.000-07:002009-08-30T05:52:48.933-07:00

please forgive my absence now, and in the math and the life and the glow and shock and all that comes with the after. if ever counts for anything, please forgive me for that first since never again will you have to wonder whatever happened to that one girl who always seemed to stick to the floorboards when the before had passed and now it makes sense how her words and the absurd seemed to fall so

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-15970057481671826012009-08-30T05:02:00.000-07:002009-08-30T05:03:57.142-07:00

in every split end on this mop atop my head afixed to scalp shreds of which remain long after i've left perhaps for good this time tangled and remembering this and us as it was just called off for inclement weather and sometime far into never maybe i will stop and bend and smell the scents of others again and find pleasure in some plan brand new and then you won't be any better or worse off i

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-91345909843797728502009-08-30T02:28:00.000-07:002009-08-30T02:30:10.749-07:00

The rope is too frayed To tie any kind of knot At the end And I am sliding down it Stopping Only when snagged By rope splinters All paper-cut-like And then just as fast As it cut me I was out of the fray And what remained Was skin and was bones And my shaking Unchecked And unyielding From clinging so long To the rope as I do Before I lose my grip On most things I want to be sure of What mattered

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-26507454124012827372009-03-31T01:51:00.000-07:002009-03-31T02:00:03.193-07:00

and in the end, she wrote for the beginning . Breaking the ends of pencil points. fragments of what proved less useful in this latest life plan swept up from dustbunnies in mental caves of myself and you somebody like a perfect stranger perhaps i need more of and less trash canned talk of what is what and fills these blank spaces quite nicely but writing only helps with hindsight and less with

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-81514056842345368282009-03-13T22:23:00.000-07:002009-03-13T23:34:02.712-07:00

the words i want out of me won't let loose its grip on the edge of my tongue and what i know is unsettling question marks at the end of however many fragmented sentences slip off in some uncertain order at random happenstance unreliable voice in some foreign language i feel like a fraud when i hear how unnatural and awkward my script sound out loud somehow less flat than i meant to lead off with

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-62743605737926468992009-03-13T18:56:00.000-07:002009-03-13T21:51:27.266-07:00

in the days and nightcaps before i needed more that resembled myself as i wish you could see past the facts and the flaws incurred with losses and little things that sleep was no match for and nights tossed under insomniac bus wheel wells of why bother with what amounts to whatever won't work out and will wind up wiped clear of dust and taken down from shelves above eye level i drilled and built

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-50025402647725386372009-03-13T10:47:00.000-07:002009-03-13T18:56:00.316-07:00

in the days and nightcaps beforei needed moreof what for reasons to clot and keep writing as if words will work out the kinks in what i bent beyond repairlike paperclipsnails bittenblood drawn down to raw skin angry nowexposed at thequicki keep chasing downleads of cold casesold storiesfrozen in storage andclueless like i amwith time conceptspassing me by wild guessalways feels unfairlike a fight

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-18662288815108372712009-03-13T10:38:00.000-07:002009-03-13T10:42:46.983-07:00

i feel purple today. maybe because i am bruised and it's friday the 13th. again. or maybe it has more to do with the illusion i let it provide. that i am prettier than black and white. i am less raw than the mirror might give away. this is my alias today. black and blue things disguised as me. hiding hideous and unlucky. in plain sight.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-60052650989295781032009-03-10T00:35:00.000-07:002009-03-10T01:14:54.555-07:00

shock me alive again sick game of open-mouth screaming silently gaping wounds on my tongue from where you linger still and all the furious fits of physical harm too many pills and plausible bits of excuses for how teeth rotted out of my mouth gaps and holes proof of too much of you and of swallowing whole sentences soaked in acid and somehow i bit down on old scars where you'd missed my throat

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-84611287940635282682009-03-10T00:08:00.000-07:002009-03-10T00:33:35.213-07:00

you bounce back from where i keep you hidden behind stacks of cigarettes i've smoked since you last told me to stop it and i said no thank you but i'd rather spend all i have left with my tongue wrapped around less words and more parts of your shape or at least flicking fingertips cigarettes smoking down whole nights one after another you point out and i say something outrageous like maybe i

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-29095129929595284662009-02-15T03:48:00.000-08:002009-02-15T03:49:30.638-08:00

and in the end the static you makes no sense as ever and yet the still in me and things is like pogo-sticks at the place where punctuation might be otherwise and the truth like blood leaves me changed somehow the wringing out of things evidenced like cracks in porcelain sinks and dripping pipes laid hands that know well as you did too once how nothing learned or seen or slept with or on can be

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-37535321391664350642009-02-14T00:47:00.000-08:002009-02-14T00:52:23.460-08:00

i miss hot dogs and the avenue of the americas down by where bleeker meets me halfway and you and how i can still smell you on my sheets and my yawning breath in the breaking morning light sometimes and even now in the dark desert and despite the lyrics and time zones i never meant to put between us but then they were there and you were not where i'd left you on 6th avenue in the summer of '

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-12749823721137162002009-02-14T00:29:00.000-08:002009-02-14T00:44:28.599-08:00

standing up straight in my own mind and how i imagine myself much less real and nervous than my crooked spine, finally showing the strain of the burden borne of years and skin meant to protect but now it's just left with what i've done to it destruction in everything i've ever done that amounted to anything worthwhile or something worth jumping for a jumping-off launching pad point in time and

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-69845672211609885432009-02-14T00:09:00.000-08:002009-02-14T00:10:34.023-08:00

happy valentine's day. (oh, and fuck you.)

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-58759068776300890462009-02-13T23:43:00.000-08:002009-02-14T00:07:46.233-08:00

thinking still about you and how dividends and remainders and quotients and quadrants of me and what did not add up to the sum of what i had suspected and planned for in ink unthinking and sure of you and my feet planted fixed and certain in the soil and i couldn't have known then how the worms would thrive in the aftermath of you and the storm would bring many changes underneath the surface of

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-3455274342042975622009-02-13T22:49:00.000-08:002009-02-13T23:08:38.180-08:00

come to meet me i'll be here, as per usual out on the tip of the very thing you threw me out for last time still breakable but only now i know the difference between you and me and fireflies and fireworks and boundaries between all of these tangible thankless miracles of things past and curled up around the corners like me in your mind maybe now in the days and the spaces between sense and absurd

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-8392634395546211232009-02-13T21:47:00.000-08:002009-02-13T22:48:37.254-08:00

you blew right through this town like an unforeseen storm remaining low to the ground and under the radar unforecasted and caught in the crosshairs of what might have been otherwise a climactic disaster of catastrophic and epic and destructive-adjective-worthy proportions all blown out like windows of plate glass built to withstand nothing like this and taking no blame for leaving the posts they

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-91908594625663337042009-02-13T21:32:00.001-08:002009-02-13T21:40:26.803-08:00

thinking tonight about birds and migration patterns and the nature of flocks and also of nurture and sutures and stitched up things and of deep bleeding wounds and how needle-nosed pliers and birds on a wire seem to make sense of each other and nosebleeds and other mysteries made for love and for tissues connective like tendons and also like kleenex and kisses placed just in the

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-82576614533337594152009-02-08T02:00:00.000-08:002009-02-08T02:58:19.359-08:00

thinking tonight about birds and flocks and me and how humbled i am by my family and how even when they are perched precarious and potential energy poised up on a wire still. the flock seems to stick together all full of leaders and followers and fallen from grace-ists mingled and unflappable wings of me and wires binding the ties and my uncommonly good and pungent and pure cane is the love for

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-42664898249993915722009-02-08T01:31:00.000-08:002009-02-08T01:59:52.388-08:00

from 'stray birds'.... The mind, sharp but not broad, sticks at every point but does not move. Man does not reveal himself in his history, he struggles up through it. The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies. The world rushes on over the strings of the lingering heart making the music

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-16417139084227868242009-02-07T03:34:00.000-08:002009-02-07T03:49:11.291-08:00

Things I am flirting with tonight in my madness: Points of origin. Black holes:the speed of what gets stuck in there is too great-->motion is not possible at all… (as it relates to going going going till nothing gets done and unnatural tendencies to want to speed up etc.) Remnants and fragmentation and splicing of things and people. Kinetic vs. potential energy…and that

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-25617416934534616732009-02-07T02:52:00.000-08:002009-02-07T03:30:17.291-08:00

i am the tomato tonight reeling turnstyle in the city a tornado flung like rain into canyons and valleys in the desert and down my elbow the crook still on fire from remembering the tornado and the tomato you fired at the wall that night in fury and feeling that we were finally ripe and just right and raw and exposed and bare-fists we would fight. it must have been time to harvest and uproot me

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-21048834379218659492009-02-07T02:24:00.000-08:002009-02-07T02:30:59.679-08:00

and when she lost that at least she still could find words that rhyme sense to make of blanks to fill and long-stemmed roses wrapped up in blankets like lyrics and lines without rhyme all flowing freefalling and dancing and shaking the paint off the walls all worked out and perfect-like fitting around her a prom-dress a princess a soft-leather glove and still buzzing inside and humming along

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-18070395714295365792009-02-07T02:01:00.000-08:002009-02-07T02:23:55.085-08:00

And in the end I write for the beginning And I write and I wrote And I've written Through this too And my mess began In the bathroom I'd stand all stiff and up on my toes And tonight and last night and what's under my Fingernails Filthy The blood in my nose wants out And it shows Up in my clothes and filling the gaps missed By tiles or grout wear away most of what happened today By

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-2101986690964302362009-02-07T01:56:00.000-08:002009-02-07T01:58:05.964-08:00

here lies the words of a life stripped of the lies, my truth in the lines. and the best and the what and the rest of what's left of myself, and in spite of myself, are the Words! they still work and i still wake up burning through everything and panting and blinking and saying i'm sorry and not meaning it and still, i keep writing and writing and open i spill.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-339774703098666622009-02-07T01:12:00.000-08:002009-02-07T01:52:36.568-08:00

here lies the words of a life stripped of the lies, my truth in the lines. and the best and the what and the rest of what’s left of myself, and in spite of myself, are the Words! they still work and i still wake up burning through everything and panting and blinking and saying i’m sorry and not meaning it and still, i keep writing and writing still. always too far gone to turn back now and still

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-23109252024354685362009-01-19T08:47:00.000-08:002009-01-19T09:09:22.847-08:00

so. it's been seven (7) months and counting. think maybe today's the day i can move on with my life, NYCTF? waitlists are no fun, no fair, and no good all bad should be forbidden and outlawed and made to WAIT ...for 7 months. just because i am starting to develop hives from reading blogs of those only slightly more neurotic than me. and they cry to one another about the 2, 3, 4 week-long wait

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-27868750170244221172009-01-19T08:19:00.000-08:002009-01-19T08:26:04.731-08:00

cathexis (kə-thĕk'sĭs) n., pl. -thex·es (-thĕk'sēz). Concentration of emotional energy on an object or idea.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-10144219112360043692009-01-19T07:56:00.000-08:002009-01-19T08:11:45.605-08:00

not sleeping is weird... i feel like a criminal, and yet i don't know why. it's not like there is a victim here, and show me anybody who has ever written anything- even if its awful- and prove they wrote it in some conveniently-timed lunch hour under the hot sun. i think the night is just when i am supposed to be awake, and better, and writing if at all possible. which, lately, it is. and

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-73616661543842610952009-01-19T07:17:00.000-08:002009-01-19T07:41:51.436-08:00

you and i well, we still know well how each other would look on the other side of the end of you and i. i proved to be less less of everything although more a mess and your mind and my madness and all that got left in your wake and still now i wake up sometimes before noon and it's only because i've been calling your name out loud like you wished i would have done when it mattered and not now

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-50501885524472965612009-01-19T06:37:00.000-08:002009-01-19T07:17:17.074-08:00

i catch a chill and inside is the shaking and always like this is when i think too much and too long and you would have nothing to say and little want to care now but you know well how i feel like tomatos diced and in bits and sneezing from god only knows what gives when record highs give in to record-shattering lows and smack of me smack in the middle of winter at the apex and climax of a

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-17193668615775723742009-01-19T05:31:00.000-08:002009-01-19T06:37:18.511-08:00

even though you will never care nearly enough to keep me from thinking things about the washing machine and how i ought to live within the spin cycle and maybe then i would at least feel not so filthy and i would be right at home in the tumbling and the chaos except for the proof about me and how its not okay and safe for the pets or your boyfriend perhaps or anything organic and of value, or

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-70721976751047180672009-01-17T02:07:00.000-08:002009-01-17T02:15:18.021-08:00

New York, NY 9°FCurrent: Clear ...and still. i can't breathe anywhere else.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-23582046936343384892009-01-17T00:24:00.000-08:002009-01-17T01:57:58.680-08:00

i am in. over. my. head. here. (BOOOOOOOOOOO-RRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG!) boring. and now. a word from the only thing that got me out of bed today.... (yes.)

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-73485570569165527562009-01-14T05:55:00.000-08:002009-01-14T05:58:42.434-08:00

thirsty. drooling the dribble an orange tang splash juicy juice spilling leaning over the table she hit the high note and its higher than ever its covered in dust from its take-off dramatics that left a lot behind. an atmosphere pierced by the juicy juice straw a higher than highest artist at work begins at a table splashed with her ashes and drizzled in juice from a high so

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-90332541560781039682009-01-14T04:58:00.000-08:002009-01-14T05:52:26.570-08:00

hooray for some randomness i concocted 5 years ago... and just unearthed today... and was shocked and yet not shocked at how relevant it still seems to me now. read on: when life tosses you some shit... write it down. so i just started writing. and i wrote while John Mellencamp rasped on about love and how it's not

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-8904662547261109522009-01-14T04:22:00.000-08:002009-01-14T04:56:56.790-08:00

*note: i wrote this poem in the spring of 2004, way back when... and lucky me, lucky you because i found it after all this time and nearly declaring it legally dead. hooray! enjoy... ;) (Working Woman) and she wants a body she screams at the mirror that's lit up in pink but it doesn't answer her back. and counts out her money that she twisted from hands of people who liked her with a

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-88793693286077061312009-01-14T04:16:00.000-08:002009-01-14T04:22:06.510-08:00

Soooo... i was hoping you will laugh at this nonsense... since you also seem to delight in the random and ridiculous. At least, i think you do...since you made it to my blog, not bored with my shit... yet. ;) Yeah, i admit it- despite my best attempts, my inner-nerd will not be silenced. sucks for you, my dog, others who i seem to geek out with. for those of you who read this in a hurry,

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-54696673977568321062008-12-30T20:56:00.000-08:002008-12-30T21:00:42.398-08:00

okay, fine. so you're an alcoholic... (you and my father will love each other.) does that negate the fact that my aunt (former, that is...the divorce is final now, to the best of my knowledge.) has killed herself, and i'm supposed to believe this? no. it sure does not. here's something: stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop BEING A FUCKING TWAT and grow a pair and strap em on, and

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-53495265143598128372008-12-30T20:54:00.000-08:002008-12-30T20:55:06.502-08:00

...i like too many things and get all confused and hung up running from one falling star to another till i drop. this is the night, this is what is does to you. i had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion. (kerouac)

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-11598870354079208242008-12-30T03:18:00.000-08:002008-12-30T03:19:58.337-08:00

...a stunning mess, this little bird has made in the process, all pieces regret... useless as sewage and spillage, and fallen.out.of.that.NEST. (lies and half-truths make your home amongst my own, i am dubious and erroneous, and ripe to deceive. but lie to me, liars and lovers and all who might read: happiness lost me somewhere out west, but how i digress in writing this.mess. so sing to me

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-54005496017094025632008-12-30T01:22:00.000-08:002008-12-30T01:25:24.292-08:00

Note the time. (before 7 a.m. on Saturday morning…) Saturday, November 08, 2008 6:40 AM And I'm wiiide awake. I suppose what I have to thank for this is the pretty neat-o great seats I just found out that I had to a most-exciting street fight outside my window. Luckily for me, it was on the other side of the street which, since my bed is just below my one window, made for excellent

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-41550994236094656542008-12-30T01:19:00.000-08:002008-12-30T01:21:14.147-08:00

here it goes… I am taking my writing into the 21st century, and letting the shit fly onto the SCREEN for a change, rather than off the paper as it were. I'll let you know later how it works out, but for right now, I can't lie- I do enjoy the font/color changing options available to me here without much more effort than a click and a swoop of the mouse… …and SPEAKING OF mice… I seem to be in

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-73971052848740714392008-12-30T01:09:00.000-08:002008-12-30T01:15:34.431-08:00

...this is what it does to you. i had nothing to offer anybody except for my own confusion. (j.kerouac) mine is not an easy story to tell, especially since now- in the silence, deafening silence, i have nothing but time and potential energy to convert kinetic towards (what would undoubtedly be) a monumental effort to write.it.down... but yet, i can't do it. i wonder if the reality of the

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-44548874883886608382008-12-30T01:08:00.000-08:002008-12-30T01:09:09.815-08:00

i read this on a really random feed i had added called "group hug"... I don’t believe in myself. I question my authenticity. (and i couldn't have said it better.)

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-72198513650952337002008-12-25T23:15:00.001-08:002008-12-25T23:15:38.907-08:00

google25c760e435e46954.html

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-38969365697217513142008-12-25T23:09:00.000-08:002008-12-25T23:10:07.616-08:00

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-71967125613443951542008-12-25T22:55:00.000-08:002008-12-25T22:59:14.953-08:00

Maybe… He's out there wondering if I'm wondering too. I will not outlive my parents afterall. Things do happen for a reason… or maybe they just don't. One day I will see my name in print. As in, on a best-selling book at barnes and noble… Heaven exists, and god is really, really, really freaking pissed at me by now. But then again, maybe it just doesn't… Maybe I

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-64189868064575052182008-12-24T20:15:00.000-08:002008-12-24T20:17:18.936-08:00

How to Save Your Own Life (1977) by Erica Jong This novel continues the story of Isadora Wing, a character from the novel Fear Of Flying, 3 years after what happened in the first novel. * I convinced myself that sadness and compromise were the ways of the world... * Having a baby with him meant marrying that face forever. * All people believe their suffering is greater than others.

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-59887652307722356202008-08-25T14:42:00.000-07:002008-08-25T14:44:32.722-07:00

like a shiny-new rubix cube, fresh off the boat from some korean conveyor belt; that's what this fucking city looked like to me sometime not that long ago, but also an outrageously long time ago. i'd spit on my calender, or 3 or 4 that would defy what unsettling truths i know well in my bones...BUT-why acknowledge your enemies by spitting at them, when really? i'd rather just act like they don't

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-71662068655223100262008-08-11T00:59:00.000-07:002008-08-11T01:01:36.581-07:00

i've come undone, and these words are my spilling open, my hand outstretching for reassurance, and my spillage not ordinary by design... it fills my pores and my dreams awake, not so alive...This is a dumpster, a trash bin all bloated and full... With these words strung out line after line, what they are wholly? Just the spillage and baggage, a mutable image all poured out out OUT of just me...

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7067984215679253974.post-55915050326703210942007-10-19T04:07:00.000-07:002007-10-19T04:20:54.456-07:00

Thanks, it's really hit or miss with this whole 'blogging' thing... As in, I'd never so much as type the word "blog" ever again- let alone participate in my own or anyone else's blog- if I hated my first time blogging. It's just how I roll, you get one shot- if I like ya- I will love you to the point of lunacy and perhaps even legal boundaries... and if I don't like ya- well, the odds are way (

j.haLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509412580007185955noreply@blogger.com0