nevermind the gracious

too passively aggressive
to portray the impressive
oppressive, possessive, successor
your excess was unimpressive
come respect without a message
labor-intensive ethic
be cool, it's much more intensive
to be a prince without a princess
ready or not; i call not
forgetting how to love is never forgot
decomposition never rots
and moving on is moon-shot
creepy suitors repress serenity
impress a slacker's identity
with retracted amenities
there i am, or rather was

thirty-three days

i will be blogging about my trip to new york and the tour with flying machines to sxsw.

february 27th 'til my return to fresno on march 31st will be:

these thirty-three days

build more; reckless

hearts get torn apart
like shores against the rocks
turn to pebbles
devils abound
rebels profoundly gifted
in making
switch-kids get lifted
if kids only knew
that sand makes the best dust
band together,
forever endeavor we trust

i want to set this place on fire
i want to watch the cities burn
i need to feel the warmth of anger
and know that we are learned

eyes look past
a high-yield casket
wrapped in plastic cash
a mask takes time to mold
and fold the hand
deal with it
rocknroll

i'd like to see this "man" emerge
i'd like to excite the city's purge
and make a wall to tear down
wouldn't that be profound?

2010

no more pulling punches.
i'm out and about, over and under.

i'm gonna get in shape.
i'm gonna travel.
i'm gonna take pictures of said travels
and be inspired to draw and paint more.
i'm gonna finish my mission statement for my business
and get the backing.

my novel will at least be fully outlined.
my plan involves organization and weatherstripping.

i will strengthen my regimen of alone-time and crate-digging.
i will succeed.
i will conquer.
i will survive.

'tis the season

i know christmas isn't about giving, but the presents you receive generally say a lot about how well the people who love you know you. based on that, this christmas was the best ever.

for the sake of this rant, let's start at my birthday which is seventeen days before christmas. i got a gretsch drum set from my parents. i've been playing the same sunlite starter kit since i was nine years old. i've since then considered myself a drummer having practiced and been in bands and played in various factions of music in school, so a new kit has been a long time coming. sixteen years later and i finally have a kit i'm proud of and will take the best of care of. i'm extremely thankful my dad's a drummer because a) he knew what he was doing, and b) he knew when i was ready and passionate enough about drumming to own such a fine set. point being, they knew my passion, but more importantly they knew me.

then christmas comes along and i rip apart colored paper to find (collectively) a nikon d3000 and a wacom bamboo pen and touch tablet (from the parents), a bansky book (from my brother), and a set of twelve prismacolors (from my sister). to start off, i didn't ask for these things (apart from the bamboo, i let that slip), but they knew. this means in the past year my siblings have gotten to know me (and i, them) better than ever and my parents trust and believe in me enough to get me these things that only encourage my creative angst and distraction. i'm not exaggerating when i say:

this was the best christmas ever!

not because of things, but because of why i got them: i'm loved, trusted, and believed in. it's been a long time coming, and those are the best presents i could've asked for.

gunslingers wanted

i'm no hero
the lesser of two evils
share and share alike
my mistress is plight
shoot the actors
not the writer
justice is no longer
for screens and paid elects
put me in, coach
i'm ready
willing
joyous
filling
the lot's up for short sale
coarse-haired rubic's cube
twist or turn, no matter
dust gathers and settles
so what are you?

hide and seek

my eyes have adjusted
through the leaves and branches
i perch high
you're not as low as you seem
so keen on the idea
of taking the path less trampled
by failures and upstarts
twin arrows pierce twice
but not as deep
a twig snaps
as does my neck to look
i'd recommend treading lightly
snares abound brilliantly
a sound never made by
dogs
or wolves
or beasts on two legs
uttered in the night
a moan out of sight
i saw your reflection
as you walked along the lake
you shivered, i think
or maybe it was the water
cold and restless
you paused at the fork, i remember
morning chased you down and
you disappeared with the moon
you ran, i remember,
until dusk
now as i let my eyes adjust
here you are
emerging from the brush

none more fair

music is my woman. she is with me and i with her. there is not a fairer maiden than she, but try sleeping with her.

recently i have found myself doting on music exponentially more than my previous mistress, the fairer gender. i can't help but assume that, because i am currently being satisfied more by music than i was by women, my feelings are to be considered bias, but i don't believe that's the case. there is simply not enough history with the aforementioned to warrant an affair.

i see a woman and i think to myself, how can she inspire me to create something beautiful. that's my ration. i've found (especially lately) that heartache brings about more inspiration for listening and making and loving than any other emotion. but that heartache is long gone and the product of said love-loss is currently in post-production, so i ask you this:

does one then search for more heartache and keep his true love happy and strong, or does he settle for loving two entities and sharing his heart?

fairies have tails?

i've never known a story to end, just continue at a later time or in a different way, but never end.

it could be that after someone leaves you you then go out and get drunk and dedicate a song to the person at a karaoke bar somewhere. then, months later a man approaches you on the street and recognizes you from your horrible rendition of "tiny dancer". he invites you to karaoke at what he affectionately refers to as "his bar" and you agree to bring some friends. upon showing up that evening it's revealed that one of your friends knows the bartender from college and introduces you to her, himself being in a committed and loyal relationship (or he, himself, would have had her by now). there's a spark between you and her. you see each other more often than not now and life is good - all thanks to someone leaving you.

the story never ended with that person, it helped the current story along. your life is your story.

live it.

and then...

i was about a block away from the vestibule when i heard her call - questioningly - my name. i stopped, though not convinced i should turn around - let alone return to her. i called out behind me,

yes? what do you need?

you, she yelled.

i turned to face a now running figure, as if i had left my keys on the kitchen table and she was delivering them to me, knowing i was in a hurry to get to work - i hadn't and i wasn't. she slowed as she approached my shadow and looked down to mirror my stance. she stopped and whispered,

i didn't get to explain. i wanted to, but i didn't have the chance.

she's lying, she had plenty of chances. she continued,

i was never good at any of this, but i tried. i really did, darling. lover, i did.

she trailed off as i spoke - how? how did you try? not with the forced recollection of perjury could you ever convince me you tried. i believe that you wanted this and did, at one point, enjoy us, but -

i couldn't finish. she looked upset, but more confused. like she had just woken up from a three-month coma to find everything she loved gone. i couldn't help but take her hand. she looked me in the eye and said,

i'm sorry.

i think i nodded my acknowledgement and i'm sure i squeezed her hand before letting go, but i'm certain i said, before turning and walking away,

no you're not.

love is when you pillage the weaker villages

so far, so good, right?

i mean, it's time, right?

to make that trek, that fast-paced,

that limelight

i think i might

stay and fight

rivaled only by the right we have

to see the night burn;

to watch the page turn;

the rich learn

that nothing earned is real

and we have to learn to steal;

to beg; to borrow,

lest we die by morning, let's

hold fast to the truth that

love is the true test

of our endurance of pain

and the will to forgive

our assailants

don't call me shirley

miss the dawn

and forget that the sun is gone

she's moved on -

has forgotten how to sing our song

it makes sense to just carry on,

live my life as if nothing's wrong,

and learn that the queen always takes the pawn

so make an unintended half-smile

he deserves to see you laugh

unless you're playing him too

ruins get to be rebuilt

torn down in anger

zealous natures lead to destruction

i am

a product of our times

an anecdote

obsolete

needed

crazy

a winner

sanity in a bottle

clever

bewitched

an after-thought

a space-saver

a waste of space

pleasurable

interesting

handsome

a gas

sinister

mind-blowingly awesome

numb

a joke

wack

here

there

anywhere i can be heard

seen

grateful

nice

sexy

repulsive

a drummer

a writer

a man

sorry

confused

hurt

bleeding

okay

hopeful

love

me.