Not until Im sober

I am drunk right now. I admit it. I will not post this unless i deem it okay. Tomorrow maybe. So fine. What i wanted to talk about was private, angry but private. As i thought about last night's dream, I found myself unreasonably confused. I was at a private resort with my mom, where i met this girl who tempted me onto her vacational veranda. She was chocolate, and i loved me her chocolate like really. I got lost on the way back home, where i realized my mom wanted me to leave. I went back to the pool to get my swim goggles when i came onto her. Only, she wasn't a she. She was a he in disgiuise. We began to make out on the wet floor, my towel felt cold yet still there. He lied me down onto the concete when my mom popped up and called me for it was time to go. I felt a little embarrased, like she shouldn't have seen me doing what i was doing. I was making out on the floor with an oreo transvestite as the pool was about to close. I decided to allow my mom to watch, and continued with the lovemaking, when she came to my feet and insisted that we must leave immediately. I finished the kiss, got up from the floor and put the towel around my waist. I let my mother lead me away as i looked back, knowing that i did something wrong. I knew that i was leaving something that i so wanted to finish. As I walked away from the pool, I took a deep inhalation of the chlorine filled air, and i looked at who i was leaving....a girl with short brown hair and blue green eyes. She was no longer black, she was no longer boy, she was beautiful, and brown haired, blue eyed and beautiful. I felt my mom's arms pulling me. I felt like crying. I felt like something else.

The Search for Meaning in what We are Afraid to Know

There's a difference between those things that i am afraid to know and things i am afraid to admit. I can't help but know. It's ingrained, and inevitable. Though, to admit it to oneself, there is where the search becomes muddled by two thick hands cupped together as if to protect a worm or a butterfly. This affliction encroaches upon all the leaking facets of my substance. Yesterday, my secret online journal was found by a friend. My extremely private, clandestine collection of salacious stories and wanton fantasies. I was less embarrassed and more disappointed. My favorite thing about secrecy is that it is all mine. Occasionally, i share it with those that i love and trust, but ultimately that is the one thing that belongs to me, and is mine to control. Except when it is stolen, or rather accidently misplaced.
Again, my first reaction was disappointment. How sad, my secret, no more. Next, shame. She knows how i fantasize, and of who i do, and why. And that's the worst one of them all. The why. Too personal, too revealing. If someone manipulatively intelligent knew too many whys about you, you're theirs for the keeping, hurting and eventual killing. Third in the line of emotions, fear. Deep, penetrating, unadulterated fear. You know the kind, the ones that run along those old, broken down synapsis underneath all the time of adolescence and young adulthood that whittled you into the half, white-faced ghost of everything you never really were or could be. Or do you know? I'm not sure if those things exist in trueness, and by that I mean atoms, molecules, that type of trueness in substance. Do you know? Does it exist? At least for you, my reader? Anyhow, fear of knowing.
After playing it off, and her departure, I could not walk into the room where my computer resides. I feared to hear it's soft, one directional breath. I trembled in thought of re-reading the last month of filth i had written. I could not even bear to navigate the mouse's pointer toward the right corner X in a temporary fashion of making it all go away. At least for now. All these feelings made me think about my half assed search for meaning in what i am afraid to know. I wondered what meanings each of you seek and what things you must tiptoe around in what you are afraid to know. I pondered whether we share any of the same.
Eventually, i made my way back. After thinking, and thinking, showering, then thinking more, I decided that there is no point in succumbing to the fear. Fear of what, losing? People, self-respect, face, self, memory? Those things can be stripped from you despite what you do to protect them. You can, at any time, lose everything without the slightest clue to its eventual arrival. You can at any time, be absolutely, and utterly alone. Because you are right now? Right? Why am i afraid to be known as a hater, yearner, pretender, dreamer, fucker, down right dirty mothafucka? I don't want to be afraid to know myself. If i depend on a meaning not of my own creation, how can i trust it? How can i trust my own? I don't even know what a meaning looks like, or sounds like. I'm the only one around to tell me that i may be right or i may be wrong. I'm just traveling over the same words that someone must have said before because i feel so bored with it, so absolutely sick with it!

Case of the Mondays

I almost published a post last night that described all my goals in life. I suppose that can be attributed to the end of the year-type shit. Don't most people re-evaluate their lives during this time of year? Especially those poor sorries who are living through their declining 20's? It's easy and expected. Save me some, son.
The key statement, however is that I "almost" published this post. "Almost" doing things is the best. Like when I "almost" was fired, like when I "almost" caught herpes, like when I "almost" started that great liar fire. Wouldn't you like to hear those stories?
No? I don't blame you.
Well, I considered cutting my phone? I only speak to maybe 8 people in entire phone book list. And i'm too lazy to write more. Stupid.

This Honkie

wants a little flag to wave on holidays.

Wednesday Nite in Jail

Do you understand me? The girl looked me in the face. And i knew at that moment when she was screaming in the parking lot. You know, he told me and I wanted to anyway. There has been a warrant issued for my arrest, but i'd like to keep it like Mr. Jefferson. Want some candy little girl? Jesus posted a bulletin focusing on his manly affiliations. I wanted to leave a comment, but he tattled on me before i could fully explain. I'm just looking for some hometown flair. I'd like to dance on yr moonbounce. Maybe we could rent it. Tomorrow, in the snow. Maybe we could drink winter on my balcony. Meet me, like phil, like pancakes, like little Ms. sausages. I'll climb on yr belly and run through yr motel. We'll go the distance. We'll find a bar that may or may not accept all the things we've gotta say, today.

Frisson

There's this thing I love to do. Ingest substances and write. Before typing, i'd become bothered by messy writing and repetitiveness. These days, i ignore all sense and make it public. Public to who? To you. I guess if we can't drink it up, together, after a long day at work, or at the hospital, or wherever the long day takes us, at least there's lonely, drunken writing on a Thursday night. There are lists to be made, and an endless source of stupidity and sloppiness. When i think about some people, i feel ashamed in comparison. They do things like work or ceaseless study, making a difference, improving their situation in life, making friends, making love. Sometimes i try those things, but they confuse me. So whatcha gonna do with all that junk? All that junk inside yr trunk?

"This is the best day of my life"--austrian Michael Jackson fan---June 14, 2005

Fossils

Remain in the holy land. Want you to forget them, love the lives you make them. I always thought yr back looks like a fossil. If an intelligent asked me why, i'd probably answer, cuz it's so little. So discreet. So foreign and strange. So sleek and sexy all the while.

Two at Large

I'm so much smarter than you, while you stay sexy. Actually, i'm exaggerating both our strengths, but regardless, you still win. It's because I love to let my attention run wild. And yr so wild. And so that's how it will always go. I'll be the old man, and you'll be the bambino bound.

The Timeline of Non-Sexual Fantasy concerning the Realm of Comedy---A Work In Progress

1985- I'd sneak into my parent's room and call Ghostbusters. Peter Venkman would come to my house and find no ghosts. He'd make fun of me a little, then tickle me and let me ride in his ghostbuster's car.



1987- I'd live in the days of Mexico, when Mexicans spoke English. Lucky would call me his little Buttercup, and fly me in an old fashioned Wright Brother's plane. Also, he'd kiss me goodnight when I went to sleep.

1987-My dad would get over his racism and buy me a toy. Of course, I am not a white boy, but my toy would entertain me anyway. We'd break into the department store and steal more toys. Richard Pryor would speak to my class on Career Day, and make everyone laugh. We'd walk home after school, hand in hand. My dad would see us, and throw my toy away, I'd cry myself to sleep that night.

1988-I'd ride on the back of Steve Martin's dentist motorcycle and we'd breathe that funny gas, and he'd beat me. But he'd be kind afterward, while healing me with hilarious song and dance.

1989- I'd wonder why grown men cry after seeing that man on my way home from school. After talking to him for awhile, i'd ask if he'd like to watch cartoons at my house. He'd call himself Leo Bloom, but I'd know his actor name was Gene. This would be because my dad has schooled me on all good comedy. We'd play Monopoly on my bedroom floor, but he'd threaten to leave when he caught me stealing money from the bank.

1990-Jim Carrey would come over after school and we'd make up the funniest scenes. He'd go back to the set of In Living Color and pretend that they were his ideas, but I wouldn't care because he'd rock me to sleep at night.

1991-I'd eat fancy arugala salads with Vinnie while he'd speak New York to me, and buy me hot dogs at the baseball game.

1991- "Bob" would stay with us during the summer, and climb into my bed at night because he was afraid of "forest snakes". My dad would suspect that there was something funny going on, but he'd just attribute it to Bill Murray's uncaged onscreen humor.

1992- Harris meets me in the restaurant where nobody believes his stories that he can talk to a sign. Being a kid, i believe, of course. After an hour drive through LA traffic, he leans over and kisses me. I notice that the sign told him to do that. I get mad, and leave. Only to be stopped because I'm stranded on a freeway, very far from home.

300th Post

Is that any sort of milestone? I bet it doesn't count. 300 units of undercooked, unorganic beef fat.

Degringolade

Like when I worked at the snack bar, and we sold giant pickles and cup of noodles. Like when I watched Kill Bill 9 times in a row within 1 week. Like when I forgot about my poor little hamster. Like when I drank drinks from the tables of Kilowatt, un-21, on T-bones big birthday. Like when I lost my virginity to an unmentionable alcoholic. Like when I accidently slapped Vanessa during lunch that one day. Like when I threw my brother's hat off of the Santa Monica pier. Like when I screamed to Violet that cold summer night in the central wing. Like when I threw that tantrum during my 3rd birthday party. Like when I fell 8 feet onto my back and never lived to tell about it. Like when I felt up my friend in a very inappropriate manner. Like when I did that over 3 times. Like when I ditched my 5 year old brother, constantly. Like when I drew on the wall in the doctor's office. Like when I spent the weekend in the abandoned porno treehouse by the sewer drain. Like when I wanted to kiss her as she cried in my arms. Like when I made the call, both days after I should have and 5 minutes before I should have. Like when I told my dad that our babysitter hit us with the swing she broke. Like when I tricked my very first best friend into taking his pants off. Like when I just couldn't make it on the drive back from El Cerrito. Like when I digested rocks during the war. LIke when I peed on my brother. Like when I snorted salt off the Carl's Jr. table. Like when I was made to drink charcoal. Like when I waited all night for the end of the night. Like what I told my mom when she asked me. Like when I spent the whole party staring out my window thinking you'd steal my friends. Like when I wet my pants on the merry go round during recess. Like when I'd climb into my brother's bed when I got so scared. Like when Isaac saw me touch Aaron, Aaron saw me touch Paul. Like when thought I might have broken a heart. Like when was too scared to dive from the Commerce pool. Like when I told my mom the name of the nice lady who took me swimming. Like when I punched the cat off of the wall.Like when I humiliated my 2nd grade deaf, best friend. Like when I cried to get what I wanted. Like when I knocked on the hotel room door of the Air Force man. Like when I cried the night of doing blow with my mom. Like when I stole the dreams of those better than me. Like when I wanted to seduce my priest at 14, but didn't, because I was just that uncreative.

The Purpose of Dreams

I dreamt that i lived in a nice house. It had dark, oak hardwood floors, and an upstairs, and black/stainless steel, matching kitchen appliances. I had 3 roommates, Xevar, and a bitchy, blond and a faceless scenester whom i know nothing about. There was a party thrown by the girls, and I hated it. Oscar was there, and i said hi. The blond was making some comment about me, and i went into her face and said, "don't make me knock yr block off". Her lame laugh was followed by her response of "what? have we traveled back in time to the 50's? Who says that anymore?". "No, but yr going to be traveling to hospital if you talk shit again, you no-good trash heap." She laughed and walked away. I thought, fuck....i gotta get outta here. So i went into the kitchen to grab my tea. Much to my shock and surprise, I found Xevar and Sally making out on the stove. Their position suggested i interrupted only seconds before there was to be skin to skin action. I awkwardly grabbed my tea and excused my interruption. I went to my room. My room was okay, nothing seemed familiar. I had all new stuff. My bed attire was plain and cozy. I sat on my bed and listened to the new CD I bought. It was called Red. This cd sounded wonderful, it sounded like the color red. I couldn't believe that i had never heard this new subsection of music called color music. It totally sounded like red. I loved it. The lyrics were so clever. So Red, if you can imagine it. Well, I did.
Xevar came into my room with a serious look on the face. Xevar touched my arm sympathetically while muttering a "i'm really sorry". I asked, "for what? What's up?" Xevar just continued with a look of concern and continued, "i'm sorry you saw that,i hope yr not mad or sad or jealous, or anything like that." I said, "no, no why would I be? Look, there's something I've been meaning to tell you, i've thought alot about how you said that I may be have the tendency to be wrong in my automatic assumptions, and my belief in my power to read minds and intentions. Maybe you are right, maybe i'm crazy, but i may just be......hahahah, just kidding. No but really, Maybe i am wrong, continuously. Maybe i don't know. And on this note, maybe i'm wrong in thinking that you have this adorably egocentric idea that i'm in love with you. I love you, alot, but i am not in love with you. I would never even consider being girlfriends. Could you imagine that? Never. We are breakers, and destroyers, and besides, i predict that i'd only want you once, like most other things and people. However, i have my tendencies of being wrong. So, who knows, huh? But no, no, I'm not in love with you. And no, i don't care that you were about to fuck Sally on the stove. In fact, I think that's hot! Haha...get it? And while all this is true, it IS hot, and i'd have loved to watch. I'm happy for you and Sally. I have a feeling it won't work out, but i hope for your sake it's good for you. And since i'm being all honest and shit, maybe i am just a little jealous. Only a little, only the amount needed to urge me into wanting an intimate companion, that i laugh with, and fight with, and love with, and play on the stove with. In that way, you hurt me, having something that i'd like to have. Well, at least right now, at this point in my dream. Tonight."

So the purpose of this dream was discovery. I discovered the words i never even knew that i needed to think. I discovered Red. After Xevar left, i remembered thinking....now for Blue. I need to buy the Blue CD.

Enfant Terrible

Baby is soooo deliciously tired, fallen to sleep on the breast, breathing in the warmth of underbelly. To dream of daggers, slackers, and stills. I'm not angry, i swear. I don't care, i doubly dare!!! I'm in the happy place, dinosaur park, red see-saw. Going up and down and up. I find you cheating, cuz we aren't equally matched. We never were, and will never be. Yr a cheater. At last, i've found yr the secret to yr half ass success. It's so ugly without all yr glittery illusion. I'm bored of giving up, its so predictably me. So predictably self-defeating. I'm gonna scream, and kick and drool on the bars....i'm gonna bite yr tail, i'm going to terrorize yr name with my faulting breath, i'm bringing down the shades of my eyes...you can look no more. I'm making habit glances and rabid advances in yr filthy direction. All's fair in love, war, and baby hating.

Jealousy Vs. Envy

Jealousy lives in the past where i wanted what you had
where envy is in the now where i want what wants you.

WKNSS

Those awful sensations of sharp, jagged pulsing
an envious electricity underneath my rib cage
it doesn't hurt like appendicitis,
more like conjunctivitis
i'd never know this had i never learned to read.
jealousy is so distasteful,
so revealing of all you want
for the mere sake of what you haven't
today feels so empty, like yr casket
yr so alive, it only makes me wanna XXX
in five.

My Goodness

I was going through some of the 'decide not to post list'. Fuck, it's hard to decide between ruthless bitch and pathetic loser. I hope i don't ever really get mad. I might be worse than my mother. Fuck.

I'm Officially a Lame Ass

I just finished my making a Powerpoint Presentation for a class project i'm to turn in ON WEDNESDAY???? Who is this bitch and why aren't you putting me outta my misery?
For serious!

Pitter Patter of Baby Feet

If i had a baby, it would be bitter sweet. Not like how you'd want it at all,
we'd cry like hitler's fall.
I'm a doormat with higher prices, i'm like sheet and Dionysus.
Frog on my butt, i want us to compare like close to human
Mexicn hair. Let us go there, let us be fair
Fuck, i scream for yr attention.
You'll never be my husband, even though you'd be so great at it.
Let me call us kids, cuz of that.
I'm fat, and you know that.

I said those things

cuz i was hurt,
cuz i was mad,
cuz you made me want the things i left
back when i had.
cuz i'm alone,
and reprised,
a girl with even bigger eyes!!!!

Soft

Soft isn't enough these days.
Like it was in those.
Remember how soft it used to be?
But it isn't like that at all
these days.
That just means i miss it more.

I miss how

you smell like baby powder....maybe it's 1995, maybe it's teen spirit, or maybe it's just how you smell like baby powder. I miss you, nevertheless......

Hush, because

your whispers don't sustain my interests anymore.......I hear too many snakes hiss and monkey growls. This world is full of noise from every pack of tender boys. Sheeeeyeah!
Pelicans are the night sabres, while peacocks guard the rattlers. I personally find the cobras to be the leaders of the crew, makin' strife wif the owls in the petty pantry. Should the forest awake and call yr bluff, i'd be intrigued to say the least. I'll deem you an emu, at best. The bird with a beak left to fight among the meek. A soldier among the feathers, a hell cat believer, an eyebrow tweezer.

We could make music with our wings, should you call off all the other things. Romanticism made it easy like that. Like 3 little batty bats. Foxes run through the reeds, and many other things, but you--you seem a little make believe. Too bad to be false, too focused on the cause. A blinder clause. A mystic pause.

Let's play a game. The one we've played before, like a funny television show. Lying in bed with an oversized shirt, like brothers and sisters on thursday's dirt, friendship's perk, i lurk at you. Don't make the trees be your sole relief. I scoff at make-believe when you keep so mystique.

Listen to my musik, like i do yrs, and we'll be even in this match of unequal masterpeices! Playful telekinesis, dangling strings of innocent sleeze.....
Don't tease!!!!!

Oh, you were right....

So yes, there was a missed call indeed. Your story checks out. Interesting.

Senor Pixie, Deja Me

Corazon de diablo siempre me intentas rebajar,
Con las cosas que haces
Y las palabras que difundes contra mi.

Corazon de diablo seguiras engallandome,
Con tu falsa sonrisa
Y tus canciones de sirena,
Sonriendo, engallando,
coqueteas conmigo hasta que no hay esperanza,
Respondiendo, degradando,
de rodillas intento agradarte.
Pero te quiero sin embargo y te deseo piedad,
A mi lado y veras lo que significas para mi.

Corazon de diablo siempre me intentas rebajar,
Con las cosas que haces
Y las palabras que difundes contra mi, sobre mi.

Corazon de diablo siempre me intentas rebajar,
Con las cosas que haces
Y las palabras que difundes contra mi,sobre mi.

Que harias sin mi,
sonriendo,engallando,
Coqueteas conmigo hasta que no hay esperanza.

Traci, you silly goose

I do not have any missed calls from your source. Hang on, I have to lube up Moto's back. I wrote a blog about it. Wanna hear it? Nah, just playing. So ya, i have no missed calls. I feel like perhaps this might be some ill devised smoke screen, initiated by the beetle-nosed ant eaters in your eyes and ears. What else do ant-eaters eat? Termites and soft-bodied grubs. Houses never fall on an anteater. Them frames is sturdy!!! I am probably going to smoke all of Moto's cigarettes tonight, because I am far too paranoid to walk amongst this wicked ghetto. Traci, you should eat more cheap pizza. Is Lanesplitter cheap? I wouldn't know, i have never eaten there. In fact, before you visited me that day, i never even knew what Lanesplitter was. But I do now, so that is good.
Know what else is good? That song that goes like this.....
Elle sait je lis pas
Elle sait j'écris pas
Mais ce sont des lettres de Melody
Apprends moi à lire
Apprends moi à écrire
Voilà les choses que tu peux faire pour moi
Ce sont les choses que tu peux faire pour moi


Wouldn't you agree? So maybe soon we can chill in a living room and listen to music and talk about the olden days when butter wasn't yellow and cheese wasn't either. I decided to take a class at Laney after all, but there are other things i'd rather do than dance. And yoga's already in my brain. Have you taken a look through my brain lately? I've updated all the shotty color schemes and falty links. Come by sometime, and I'll show you. T, i didn't drink tonight, but i feel that i should have and will do now. Wine time. I'll save the Champ for later,
Alligator.

5 Favorite Nursery Rhymes

Goban--Peter Peter pumpkin eater,
Had a wife and couldn't keep her!
He put her in a pumpkin shell,
And there he kept her very well!

Yoban--What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails
That's what little boys are made of !"
What are little girls made of?
"Sugar and spice and all things nice
That's what little girls are made of!"

Sanban--Georgie Porgie pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry
When the boys came out to play,
Georgie Porgie ran away.

Niban--The cheese stands alone,
The cheese stands alone,
Heigh-ho, the derry-o,
The cheese stands alone.

Ichiban--There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

dare? dare? dare?

Who is this for?
For me- It helps to have somewhere to put things. I like looking back after some time. It helps me gauge my tendencies for cycles and patterns. I try to look at last year as if i were a different person. I wonder when i will be a different person. People who change alot, are the same in that way.

For you- If i were to cater my subject topics to things that you might be interested in, i'd be stricken with this obsession on keeping you amused. Why would i want that kind of pressure? I see the way others bend to the whims of their readers and their reader's opinions and reactions. I don't want that. I'm a sucker who'd get pulled in much too easily. It is not my job, or anyone else's to go out and search for new and interesting things for you to do, see, feel, or listen to. Do something for yourself.

For the other You-- I'm so glad that you don't bother with my blog. It is usually so vague, angry, and unexplained. Writing to a "you" is so pussy, these days. I wish you were around so you could tell me how much you don't care about me. I'd love that.
Maybe we can schedule something around next week, maybe....Barney's on Peidmont? Great, we can share a shake.

The Easier Temptations

I get the urge to call on the specifics of your behavior. But then that would require my own set of explanations for caring. I have dos blueys in me so i'm feeling the loop. I'd kick you if it weren't the darkest night of the year. December is so final, so endy. I'm not scared of it anymore. This annoys me. I annoy this.

The Hamper Effect

SMOKING After a short bout with the attempt to quit smoking, I made the public descision to now "smoke more than ever". It's been going well, and i have made new and glorious strides in my endeavor. However, the onset of this "malady" is now hampering my ability to keep up with my ridiculous goals. As i try to push through the runny nose, congested bronchial regions, and stabbing throat pains, I find that my sleepiness is the hardest on my smoking. I cannot keep to a pack or more a day when i cannot keep awake for more than 8 hours. I've been told that there is a Sudafed on the market that masks flu-like symptoms while pumping you up with ephedrine-esque chemicals. I'm sure this would encourage a smoker to both drink lots of water and work on her smoking. Had I more than $3.14 in my bank account, i might check it out. How am I making rent you ask?

RENT I have found that school isn't that hard when you don't have to keep a job throughout the process. This does, however, deeply affect my taste for mildly expensive habits such as smoking, drinking, drug use, and eating. Rent tends to hamper my dedication to my lifestyle. I bet I'd live alot longer if I paid more in rent. Unfortunately, I'm not well to do in these areas of decision making. You can form your opinion where you will. How do I react to your opinion, you ask?

YOUR OPINION Well, on individual accounts, i take it in stride. I figure you spend alot of time thinking about yourself, and in reality, I am just but 10 to 15 minutes of thought wasted while on the internet. Or maybe in person. Even when we are together, i accurately assume that you are probably not thinking about me. So, on individual accounts, i feel miraculously unhampered. There are moments, strangely indeed, when questions are asked. Luckily, i'm known as a jokester who can get out of a serious question when times appear to be crooked. I find that the Christmas holiday encourages people to ask more questions. Why do i shirk from both inquiries and the holiday season, you ask?

THE HOLIDAY SEASON I'd be pretty pissed off if I were Jewish. I don't want 8 crazy nights. I don't even want one. I like the action of searching through large superstores, and purchasing. I don't feel hampered by long lines, just the stupid chatter of the shoppers behind me. However, if i did not grow into a rage when entering a mall, I'd feel like i have lost something from childhood. I like thinking that you would really like this present. I hate being there when you open it. You never really like it as much as i thought you would. It makes me feel worthless, and unknowledgeable. And who wants to feel like that after eating turkey, ham, cookies, pie, egg nog....or whatever? Who, you ask?

NOT ME If there is any single entity which hampers ceaselessly, it is me. I guess it is my never-failing ability to lose interest. I feel it happening already. There are 2 more major points i needed to express today during my hour of time wastage. BLOGGING, that was one topic. The other, MEGALOMANIA. I bet if I wasn't so lazy, i could combine them both in a beautifully wrapped present for my number one son.