DDH

12:09 st. joseph's hospital
aside my grandma as she complains
that the flowers i brought block her view
of the cemetery-
a junebug dies on the windowsill outside
it's almost july
and i guess everything has it's time
and everything has it's place
unfortunately

driving back alone
forever following;
as if my left ear lingers
off the side of my face
hoping to braise a sweet
soft whisper;
as yreka 5:33 is raining
somehow
from the cloudless distant
sky blue sky

walking toward the stop
i see my hourly bus go by-
it's going to be one of those days
i guess.
those days are becoming every days
as i walk back home
to take another shower
but the hot waters out
9:33 a.m.

dreaming of 4:07 a.m. san francisco-
how july was cold as january
but twice as long-
the specific sound & feeling of nothing-
nobody around.
as days blend & bleed together
the weeks of different colors clay pastel
smudge & intertwine with thumbs
of middle-ages dead end ice rink managers.
have i become the film behind your lens
only open to see the most
opportune and memorial events
which now lack increasingly-
where'd you sleep last night?

street punk party almost 1 a.m.
apt above a mystic on haight street
as she complains about noise
guitar bass, drums scream & stomping
we wonder how she didn't know
as the endless supply of hobos
come crawling in from the night

god and jesus and the moon
noon metro i can't complain
"bus driver got you on the rebound"
my shirt smells like your shampoo
as the crazy's talking to me
or himself, or
god and jesus and the moon
he doesn't smell like you
but shit and pomade grease
a number 2's shadow sits next to me
& the sun burns my knee
as the crazy mumbles the last words
of his stumbling vocabulary

fumbling for zippers between
the fabric of space & time
today is the funnel
as i'm glad that now
the night has come
& tomorrow's end is near
again & again
finally!

four p.m. metro
welcomes nothing is going nowhere
ridden like a wasted slut
mocking the driver & tourists
take me far enough
to fix a fact that follows me
like the shadow at dawn grows longer
as the whiskey disappears, it's
hopeless!

if anybody hasn't seen this documentary, they really should. not to mention this is the best cover for a philosophy book i've ever seen.

all the time.

I.

nine-thirty a.m. 28 metro
the driver calls out "65th street, school & cigarette store"
the girl with purple hair
asked how i am doing today (as always) and i reply
"been worse, you know"
she's pretty and probably sixteen as time is a rabid disease
high schoolers exit the bus
like a herd of fish drifting in current of cold march morning
watch out!

II.

passive hippie notions
drunk from blunt withdrawal
the universe is play-doh
play god and aristotle
freezing march midnights
snowfall falling spring
day light savings ruining
but makes bright dawn as
the fawn is dancing
red ball white cap
bleach blonde shaggy hair
glorious!

i've been making obvious discoveries as of late-

the west coast is all connected. one simple freeway connects Stockton to Seattle, to Portland and L.A. the people in all these cities don't realize this, they're all so close and at the same time so different. so i guess realization #1 is space.

#2 would be time. these past few days have been spent in places outside myself. confusing things. testing things. i can't see past the frame of my glasses, and though i want to know so bad what i'll like tomorrow, the truth is i probably won't know who i am tomorrow. you move through time and it's all so smooth, you don't change and neither does it- as if we set to auto-pilot and only step in and make actions when big problems arise. but in the end you're at a different place, with different people, and the saddest part is that you can't go back and enjoy all the great things you once had.

maybe one day i'll be able to appreciate such things with memories. or maybe, for the first time, i'll be happy with the current situation, instead of always missing the previous one.

there is no spring, there is fall. only snow or summer.

the difference between counting mistakes and making them.

i feel as if, the person i was at 17 would really not like the person i am now.

that makes me very sad.

so it goes.

i'm trying to drink less and write more.

doing so much nothing and something so much

days feel like weeks and weeks feel like hours

keeping track of ambitions, goals-
things to look forward to?

making lots of lists, doing nothing on them

catching the drift, not caring, loving nothing

where did i go?

i have a meeting with a clothing store in an hour and i'm not nervous or excited or anything. my apathy has grown painfully confusing.

maybe i'm just not proud of anything i have to offer? i should change that.

-it can only be so good.

our neighbors have a greyhound, it likes me. every morning she waits for me to come out and i pet her.

she is the most precious thing.

i plan on making some greeting cards and sketchbooks tomorrow- the first set to start off the 'author alphabet' series.

we dated with wine
broke up with beer
& reminisce with liquor

i broke my glasses... and i have no money to get them fixed or get new ones.

BUT

i did got to throw a shoe at a poster of bush yesterday, which was fun.

AND

there's a black man in charge of the united states, that'd pretty cool...

SO

everything is going to be okay, i just need to sell some things on craigslist and make things work.

i'm looking for the space between
- too much and not enough -

bad thing's that have happened this week:

my independent study didn't get signed (which means i have to take 'children's book illustration' instead of 'screen printing for the digital marketplace')

it doesn't look like i'll get either of the jobs i was lining up

though told previously otherwise- i might not be able to be a paid intern at jimmyjane this summer- due to problems with the economy

i've been having a lot of trouble sleeping, and staying asleep when i finally do



good thing's that have happened this week:

i played a house show and had fun doing so

arrived back safely in seattle after getting my bag searched for forty-five minutes because there were "multiple knife shaped objects" inside

realized i have a lot of books to read and hopefully a lot of time to ride them

fiction i remember reading this year (in order):

breakfast of champions - vonnegut
ham on rye - bukowski
either/or - kierkegaard
post office - bukowski
so the wind won't blow it all away - brautigan
the man in the high castle - philip k dick
kafka on the shore - murakami
journey to the end of the night - celine
the confederate general from big sur - brautigan
lolita - nabokov
middlesex - eugenides
on photography - sontag


times of happiness(in order):

seeing obama speak
riding amtrak with tom to portland
turning 21
getting a 4.0
putting my belongings into storage
finding a first edition of "sirens of titan"
end of semester party


times of sadness(in order):

moving out of my first apartment
moving to san francisco with a job that starts at 4 in the morning
moving back to seattle with no money
trying to finish finals on time and with good work


favorite drink: coke & seagrams
favorite food: park chow in san francisco
favorite movie: the savages