tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165710592231073202024-03-13T23:18:05.753-07:00Bric-a-BracA blog of small fictions.SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-24089661516814700672016-09-24T12:24:00.001-07:002016-09-24T12:24:14.069-07:00The grotesqueries abound in Dolores<br />
as the sweetfuck drunk in white sandals<br />
speaks softly to himself, and louder<br />
as people pass and no one hears or<br />
if they hear they hear<br />
an animal lowing<br />
<br />
A stub-nosed mutt is dressed<br />
In fineries licking around<br />
The patent leather sinking mud<br />
In placcid weather flaccid<br />
mares grasping for their place in <br />
an anchorless world<br />
<br />
And who is the walrus now?<br />
If perhaps we all deigned to<br />
bury our faces in small bits<br />
of nonsense now and then<br />
What soft and lonesome artifacts<br />
could we we unearth between our teeth<br />
<br />
like dogs with so many bones<br />
lizard brains pockmarked with listicles<br />
an apocalypse of many gods<br />
on with many islands<br />
whose harbors all exact<br />
a pound of heartflesh<br />
for the siren's song of AnswersSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-71824501799857709272015-11-04T22:21:00.001-08:002015-11-04T22:24:42.680-08:00<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">i was buried</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">by a minyan of</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">neckless men</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">with lavender</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">eyes that rolled</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">around in the cups</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">of their houndstooth</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">fedoras like pills</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">on the roulette wheel</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">pivoting round </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the centripetal force</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">of an absent god</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">gazing skyward</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">all the while</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">forgetting to finish </span></div>
SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-1123127991850700792014-09-10T17:14:00.003-07:002014-09-10T17:17:05.687-07:00I like the word fuck because of its implications<br />
<div>
Fast, sweaty, hard</div>
<div>
But also because of the release </div>
<div>
From my mouth and brain</div>
<div>
Like a spoken orgasm</div>
<div>
Fuck me</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">it pierces and vibrates<br />with a concupiscent staccato<br />it cuts two ways</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">a sword with no hilt<br />i overused it once<br />in callow exuberance</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">i hope my children<br />learn to curse fluently<br />in their mothers tongue</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">your pixelated breasts<br />the sweat on my pillow<br />my fantasy is<br /><br />only to reach through<br />the screen to<br />grasp inside you<br /><br />and the only word<br />that will do<br />is</span><br />
<div>
<br />
<i>fuck</i></div>
</div>
SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-22100026588910612392014-09-10T16:59:00.001-07:002014-09-10T16:59:19.651-07:00as i peel cockles <br />
off the wharf<br />
someday too<br />
the marrow will run dry<br />
<br />
from your chalky bones<br />
and pool around your<br />
ankles as grey matter<br />
leaks out your ears<br />
in an encephalitic ooze<br />
<br />
i decipher<br />
the voluptuous braille <br />
of your spine's topography<br />
a dream<br />
where i bathe in all<br />
your scented parts<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
the ocean between us<br />
i won't <br />
<br />
<br />
let <br />
<br />
<br />
it<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
wash <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
me clean<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-55891868733265543682014-08-23T18:54:00.002-07:002014-08-27T09:07:33.077-07:00i rearrange my chemistry<br />
like so many chairs<br />
<br />
the patio furniture<br />
roosts in my<br />
living room<br />
unheimlich <br />
<br />
i've bathed lately<br />
in your lingering scent<br />
on my unwashed sheets<br />
<br />
you smell like a woman<br />
who's taken men<br />
inside her and judged them<br />
inadequate<br />
<br />
my desire for you lies<br />
somewhere at the center of<br />
that judgement<br />
<br />
the threshing<br />
and winnowing<br />
the yes<br />
and the no<br />
but recently the yes yes yesyesyes<br />
<br />
<br />
so tomorrow<br />
just fuck me into<br />
that fertile oblivion<br />
i seek where the chairs are all seats<br />
the seats are all thrones<br />
<br />
and all the flowers<br />
blooming smell like a <br />
woman who knows<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-14367486276066466292012-10-25T12:37:00.004-07:002012-10-25T12:37:49.193-07:00i'm always returned<br />
to bike rides on Rising Son<br />
a stranger in my home town<br />
leeching strength<br />
from the dilapidated row houses<br />
in my neighborhood<br />
we get close to what <br />
poisons us carressing it<br />
not letting anything <br />
permeate but aroused by<br />
the sweet toxic proximity<br />
of thanatic lust<br />
<br />
you said that you're<br />
okay if you stay away <br />
from needles and <br />
my god if in that moment<br />
i didn't want to crawl up<br />
the dropper's neck<br />
and drown with you<br />
<br />
but instead we wrapped<br />
our arms around each other<br />
and we drank the<br />
expatriated autumn air<br />
<br />
i need to work on this<br />
but i won't<br />
i'm weary to death<br />
of this false transparency<br />
glass walls<br />
are just walls<br />
and more terrible<br />
is the flood that you<br />
can see bubbling with anger<br />
and shrieking behind the fracturing levy<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-36422822768630658212012-03-19T16:43:00.003-07:002012-03-19T17:10:33.131-07:00Augurythis is not the side<br />of you you'd like me to<br />see you said but which side<br />do i show i am a<br />curator of addiction and<br />dissolution and the occasional<br />smatterings of bumbling<br />success the next girl<br />must always be the<br />best girl and she is<br />until your best girl<br />is a slight autumn breeze<br />and you are left stroking<br />yourself and gauging the<br />inbound and outbound<br />itineraries of certain birds<br />and making gods<br />of withered tea leaves<br />where is the naked love<br />of my youth if not<br />burrowed deep in your<br />cherokee eyesSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-18596792399077974222012-02-19T00:02:00.003-08:002012-02-20T10:59:18.888-08:00Carnival in Louis Armstrong park<div>This feels like perhaps it</div><div>Should be significant or </div><div>Could be or</div><div>The jazz wheel in</div><div>The treme</div><div>Is something literary </div><div>God am I fucking</div><div>Inadequate</div><div><br /></div><div>This maybe is what</div><div>It's like to lose one's mind</div><div>To speak in the royal we</div><div>Like you're a surrogate</div><div>Or a petri dish</div><div>I'm so terrified </div><div>Of the trappings of</div><div>Precision</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know if I'm</div><div>Laughing or crying or</div><div>Why I can't be the Cardinal</div><div>Why I can rent horses </div><div>On Macinac or why </div><div>It's so perturbing to be</div><div>Grandiose and all</div><div>My problems find their </div><div>Solution here with</div><div>Your head in my lap </div><div>Looking out across</div><div>The marbled bricks</div><div><br /></div><div>Raindrops fall like</div><div>Dappled slugs I am</div><div>Reaching for excuses to use</div><div><br /></div><div>The treme </div><div>A place on television</div><div>If someone found me</div><div>I hope they'd stage my death</div><div>As holding more intrigue</div><div>They'd hang me up</div><div>Like strange fruit</div><div>And pluck me</div><div>For some strange purpose </div><div><br /></div><div>All I can think about is you</div><div>All I can think about is being</div><div>You </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Dixieland.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-56609503860287724802012-02-05T02:49:00.000-08:002012-02-05T02:51:55.202-08:00black bottom spoon<br />and powder on the table<br />come too late<br />come too soon<br />bubbling black venom<br />on a black bottom spoonSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-57143085509718046102012-02-03T17:01:00.000-08:002012-02-03T17:21:22.620-08:00on my 24th birthday<br />i find myself a miner<br />for small pleasures<br />an author of small<br />fictions a lover of<br />small women and<br />it's no small wonder<br />that the world seems<br />smaller today than<br />it ever has or ever will<br /><br />the subatomic makeup<br />of a man's heartspace<br />years of study and all<br />it means is that we<br />get better and better<br />at parsing the signifiers<br />of those with the courage<br />to give and receive love<br />throwing caulk and spare<br />thumbs into the holes<br />we find in the rough hewn<br />and ponderous levees<br />of our dearest friends<br />whom we collect<br />like pondstones<br /><br />it is true also that some men<br />dedicate their lives to the<br />taxonomy of certain rocksSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-70619213783093159962011-12-22T21:28:00.000-08:002011-12-22T21:52:04.257-08:00ships in the night<br />who are we on the days when<br />the beauty does not flow from us<br />organically and the drugs wear off<br />and we are left with<br />our friends who stand in<br />for all the things we wish<br />we were and were not<br />encapsulated neatly like<br />benzodiazepines or<br />Russian dolls<br /><br />i do sometimes wish we<br />were pumped full of blacke humour<br />like Galen supposed and life were<br />a hydraulic system of<br />leeching and letting<br />absorption and osmotic learning<br /><br />and i love like madam<br />curie loved radium or<br />burroughs loved the needle<br />clawing for selective destruction<br />and stasis when freedom<br />curls up with a<br />soliciting purr beside<br />the fleshy thighs and<br />dimpled cheeks of<br />my covetous<br />neighborsSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-56290798392155452042011-11-09T20:03:00.000-08:002011-11-09T20:19:11.983-08:00i remember when<br />being in love with<br />you was so important<br /><br />when it didn't matter<br />if my cigarettes grew<br />soggy on my lips<br /><br />i had fewer tattoos<br />and i was someone of<br />which my mother<br /><br />may have approved<br />when life had a<br />design with you<br /><br />at the center like<br />a fleschy peach<br />and i've learned<br /><br />the solemn pleasure<br />of stern apogees<br />and residual flavorSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-65231810046700931462011-10-19T21:04:00.000-07:002011-10-19T21:26:22.036-07:00why it seems vapid to<br />be widely read<br />i don't know why i made<br />that connection<br /><br />oh my saccharine black<br />america i can never<br />be yours i must<br />die young i can't<br /><br />imagine outlasting this one<br />immeasurable moment<br />would this small poem<br />mean more if i quoted<br /><br />baudelaire i understand<br />the deep envy of sickness<br />24 hour sports networks<br />and the junkie sweetness<br /><br />of suspended living but<br />i have always had a romance<br />with crowded marketplaces<br />and urban churchyards<br /><br />i've yet to define an ideal<br /><br /><br /><br />but how women lust for uncertaintySWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-17998125603614761762011-10-10T20:25:00.000-07:002011-10-10T20:30:47.272-07:00the problem with points<br />is that you can see them<br />miles away<br /><br />and watching you stumble<br />like a clumsy child<br />to get there<br /><br />makes me sick<br />why don't you just<br />set a balsa wood<br /><br />merengue puppy dog<br />afire in the sierra nevadas<br />and they'd love you<br /><br />because they couldn't<br />understand your goals<br />you always win<br /><br />when no one else<br />knows how to play<br />but everyone wants toSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-60969606163293820052011-10-04T21:53:00.000-07:002011-10-04T21:57:52.430-07:00J Mascis for President!<br />J Mascis for President!<br />What a strange dream at that<br /><br />I just want to live inside a pop song<br /><br />I finally have a little money ferretted away somewhere<br /><br />I think I can move.<br /><br /><br /><br />Come with me!<br /><br />Let's feed the elephants<br /><br />comewithmecomewithmecomewithme<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Sincerely,<br />HONEST TO GOD<br />EMOTIONAL TRASHZSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-76759089351657060352011-09-29T22:15:00.000-07:002011-09-29T22:40:36.664-07:00someday i will<br />tell my children the story<br />of when i was cruel<br /><br />omitting finer details<br />but recalling trips out<br />the R5 i never spoke about<br /><br />it felt like cheating not<br />when i woke up with<br />her but when<br /><br />i notched my finger carefully<br />into her lower spine<br />in the small secret place<br /><br />i had only ever known<br />with you the soft<br />droning of my telephone<br /><br />muted by the padding<br />of a discarded brassiere<br />which was not the right size<br /><br />and how the ways in which<br />i can offer myself will<br />never be quite the same<br /><br />i will talk instead<br />in vagueries about<br />mistakes and misspent youth<br /><br />though truth be told<br />i always have spent it<br />exactly how i pleased<br /><br />i will kiss them<br />goodnight go to<br />bed as a man<br /><br />who seems a stranger<br />now and will be<br />moreso thenSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-19749536741065247692011-09-27T22:02:00.000-07:002011-09-28T13:01:02.552-07:00it's unbecoming to crave<br />so much wisdom at twenty-three<br />they called burroughs<br />a petri dish for the human experience<br /><br />happiness in the resplendent<br />concupiscent now i don't<br />have anything to say until<br />i wake up with you<br /><br />who can match me<br />joy for joy as<br />i unwind like<br />a wirebird<br /><br />its taken me till now<br />to listen like schwitters<br />but now all i hear is flying spittle<br />wagging tongues and flapping lipsSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-31546433863678948342011-09-25T22:26:00.000-07:002011-09-25T22:33:50.490-07:00we will begin o-wer pre boarding process<br />at this time<br /><br />the simple joy of stumbing<br /><br />who pleasures you?<br /><br />good evening ladies and gentlemen<br />welcome to delta flight 1160 - going to<br />"with service to atlanta,<br />we'd like to begin our pre-boarding process"<br />Noooo no no no non nooo<br /><br />We'd like to board only the retards and gimps -<br /><br />THERE'S NOBODY HERE<br /><br />but it doesn't hurt to practice<br /><br />we've talked about opening up a brothel<br />i'd treat them well<br />those ladies<br /><br /><br />aquarian<br />libran<br /><br />initiator running ideas<br />through the meat grinder<br />of my sickness or<br />genius or<br />whatever you call it<br /><br />APTITUDE APTITUDE<br />electric<br />stradling<br />capitol sqaure<br /><br />don't cut your hair you balding fuckSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-49337009902905608902011-09-23T14:24:00.000-07:002011-09-25T13:07:13.503-07:00we analogue to<br />what we touch the most<br />and i love to occupy<br />the spaces between<br />what we see and<br />how we say it<br />i do not try to<br />make sense of the<br />people that love me<br /><br />lately i am thinking of<br />databases and spreadsheets<br />and the ocean of<br />our aboriginal unconscious<br />and how a single word can<br />touch everything and coat it<br />in oil like an offshore drill<br /><br />and i remember not<br />giving a fuck about anything<br />but the thought of how<br />that cloud must have bloomed<br />in the gulf like a<br />carcinogenic rorschach test<br /><br />and how beautiful that must have been<br /><br />the unbalance of humours<br />blacke and cloying<br /><br /><br /><br />it won't happen to meSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-35542400673707950872011-09-19T21:42:00.000-07:002011-09-23T07:43:56.608-07:00what i would give<br />to see you<br />down by the mississippi<br />river like john berryman<br /><br />everyone knows<br />i gt this story<br />2nd hand but in<br />our internet age and<br />still i have<br />no pictures of you<br /><br />that night i sucked<br />brown honey<br />from the earth<br />kissed the man<br />with the roving billboard<br />moved to<br />a vagrant saxophone<br /><br />my words maybe<br />make you dance<br />maybe just measure<br />your quaking like<br />a seismograph<br /><br />how difficult for me<br />when you only<br />must stand and drip<br />as i solder on wings<br />tarred and feathered<br /><br />to hear you shriek<br />to smell the cauterizing<br />of your alabaster skin <br />to see you<br />fly away<br /><br />we who give permission<br />we who bring out the soul<br />in those who have it<br />and the fear<br />in those who don'tSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-19999304554589355032011-09-09T00:13:00.000-07:002011-09-09T00:17:01.597-07:00I'm so sorry my dear,<br />I haven't written you<br />since June.<br /><br />So much to tell,<br />No way to say it.<br /><br />Perhaps I should just<br />give up<br />and<br />write something that rhymes.SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-77060487894636266562011-06-12T13:15:00.000-07:002011-08-22T23:42:26.181-07:00my brainis
<br />electrostatic malappropriate jukebox
<br />SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-20473690160509577662011-06-06T22:23:00.000-07:002011-06-06T22:45:16.544-07:00riding into town on<br />the back of a turnip cart<br />dime store jesus<br />your sandwich toothpick<br />sermons pinning the<br />hemispheres together<br /><br />hop into the eye<br />of my bubbling<br />lacunae i'm going<br />to the well to<br />fill it with sand<br /><br />your gorgeous fucking<br />crooked teeth<br />all of your brokenness<br />how do i get back<br />to a place where<br />i deserve youSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-71124343924199096502011-06-03T15:20:00.000-07:002011-06-06T22:23:09.379-07:00someone else's anonymous list of good things in no particular order1. Hats<div>2. Drawing</div><div>3. Amy</div><div>4. Cool fucking sunglasses</div><div>5. The Mars Volta / Tool / Led Zeppelin / Soundgarden / The Beatles / Jimi Hendrix, etc.</div> <div>6. Smoking</div><div>7. Psychedelics / a little weed here and there / vicodin / coffee and caffeine of any sort / ritalin / Anti-depressants / Benzodiazepines / maybe even salvia (although...hahaha)</div><div>8. My dogs Astro and Petey. Most dogs in general.</div> <div>9. Making mischief, doing silly things with friends (and even my grandma)</div><div>10. Blizzards from Dairy Queen and ice cream in general</div><div>11. Playing drums, guitar, keyboard, and singing</div><div>12. red and green chile</div> <div>13. Biking</div><div>14. Rain / Sunshine / Snowstorms</div><div>15. A good bath or shower</div><div>16. Looking groovy</div><div>17. Cool jackets</div><div>18. Filming stuff and making videos and movies</div><div>19. Sex</div> <div>20. Porn</div><div>21. Mr. Bean (the original BBC serious - not so much the movies)</div><div>22. Mountains, rivers, lakes, ponds, the ocean, city streets, a quiet bedroom</div><div>23. A refrigerator full of good stuff</div> <div>24. Recording music and writing songs</div><div>25. Free stuff!</div><div>26. Thrift stores</div><div>27. Relics, nick-nacks, tapestries, posters, and the like</div><div>28. You Tube</div><div>29. Netflix</div><div>30. feeling really good</div> <div>31. Compliments</div><div>32. Adventures</div><div>33. Cowboy boots</div><div>34. Tits, ah yeah</div><div>35. Red Bull or Amp</div><div>36. A really good concert</div><div>37. Colorful trees (trees in general, too)</div> <div>38. Driving fast, road trips</div><div>39. Sleeping</div><div>40. Clean and dry clothes (especially socks and underwear)</div><div>41. Sacred Geometry</div><div>42. Friends (new or old)</div><div>43. Talking to strangers, hobos, and hippies</div> <div>44. Pizza</div><div>45. Trippy things like trying to get into the 4th dimension or meeting space aliens or flying dolphins</div><div>46. Scuba diving and snorkeling, swimming in general, surfing</div><div>47. Skateboarding</div> <div>48. Feeling free</div><div>49. Skiing and snowboarding and sledding and snowball fights</div><div>50. Orange juice</div><div>51. Fish (to eat - I don't really care when they're in the water, but sharks are fucking awesome)</div> <div>52. San Francisco, Boston, New York City, Seattle, New Orleans, Mountainair NM, the university area of Albuquerque, Santa Cruz, Los Angeles, Burlington VT</div><div>53. Cleaning up obsessively</div><div>54. Feeling bloated and then taking a shit</div> <div>55. Waking up in the morning with a bladder that's about to explode and then peeing. Damn that feels good</div><div>56. John Frusciante, Carlos Santana, Jimmy Page, Omar Rodriguez Lopez - basically killer guitar solos</div> <div>57. A comfortable chair or a warm (or cool in the summer) bed at the end of a long day</div><div>58. Bandcamp.com</div><div>59. When "lucky" thing happen</div><div>60. Novelty</div><div>61. Tim Leary and all of the Beatniks including the Grateful Dead (best band name of all time, in my opinion)</div> <div>62. Tap water, coca-cola, sprite or orange soda</div><div>63. Walking through the casinos in Las Vegas (mind blowing!)</div><div>64. climbing onto and being on rooftops</div><div>65. breaking the rules</div><div>66. birds (yeah, actual birds, but women are great as well!)</div> <div>67. Doing whatever the fuck I feel like doing</div><div>68. Laughing, whether it's a chuckle, a laugh out of spite, or that side splitting-tear inducing-breath robbing-uncontrollable fit of laughter that seems like it may never end</div> <div>69. 69-ing</div><div>70. Halloween</div><div>71. Gifts and things given to me or done for me for free</div><div>72. being in the middle of fucking nowhere and feeling like I'm in the exact right place at the exact right time</div> <div>73. peace, making peace, and being at peace</div><div>74. trying to be like Jim Morrison, John Lennon, Robert Plant, Cedric, etc.</div><div>75. Pranking people</div><div>76. love of anything</div><div>77. surprises (good surprises - no alarms, please)</div> <div>78. steak</div><div>79. when something seemingly bad turns out to be a blessing in disguise</div><div>80. not letting anything limit me</div><div>81. trying to get my music heard by as many people as possible with high hopes for the future</div> <div>82. art</div><div>83. advil</div><div>84. feeling eternal; all this pain is an illusion</div><div>85. relaxing</div><div>86. tossing off a load (know what I mean?)</div><div>87. my brother</div><div>88. flowing with the ever-changing moment</div> <div>89. fucking the system (as long as doing so doesn't fuck me over)</div><div>90. chaos</div><div>91. getting rid of old stuff</div><div>92. digging through my grandparent's old stuff for cool things. yard sales, garage sales</div> <div>93. lunch</div><div>94. hitchhiking</div><div>95. being me even when it's going to make somebody worried or pissed off, especially when they have done me an injustice or are currently doing so</div><div>96. creative writing</div> <div>97. when somebody "knows it all," smiling and moving on</div><div>98. the fact that a lot of people don't have a clue why I do what I do, why I think like I do, and why I can change easily and go with the flow in ways that seem impossible to them (I'm thinking mostly of my parents)</div> <div>99. going out on a limb, taking a risk, attempting the impossible or frowned upon (if it's something I want to do)</div><div>100. "stealing bread from the mouths of decadence."</div>SWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-416571059223107320.post-84617273344712268182011-05-31T23:28:00.000-07:002011-05-31T23:42:33.101-07:00when i drink<br />i see new york<br />i am swinging from ropes<br />tied to industrial fans<br />how do i<br /> stay sane<br />in th i s w o r l d<br />without your p<br /> e<br /> r<br /> f<br /> e<br /> c<br /> t<br />loove?<br /><br />i want to hang there like a <span style="font-style: italic;">toulouse latrec</span><br />children<br /> will<br /> carve<br /> runes<br /> into my sternum<br /><br />may be<br /> they'll salt me<br />and for centuries<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />read the<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> stories<br /> <br /> across<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> my<br /> chestSWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17756937856276672626noreply@blogger.com0