your honesty dumbfucked me.

4am - shower. coffee. airport.

6am - back in bed.

dream:

- strummer is there.
- it appears to be a small shack at first.
- immigration police come in the middle of the night to deport some of our roomates.
- they pull me out of the house first and line me up in front of the car headlights.
- four more are taken out.
- i tell them that it's a mistake, showing them my ID and giving them my history.
- they let me go
- i walk back into the house startled
- you're chilling in your room with all your lights on, playing video games on a TV, whilst another war game is paused on your computer screen.
- i was living with you and for some reason had never been in your room
- your comforter look like the quilt i use on my bed but newer/cleaner.
- i ask where you got it and you said without breaking your attention from the video game you were playing, "oh - you know - the threesome."

before you could answer what the hell that meant - my damn alarm woke me up.

8:20am.

work.

drunk, laying on the bathroom floor
you ask me not to take pictures.
five minutes later when i return
to the bathroom to move you to your bed -
you don't realize how funny it was for me
when you told me,
" fine... you can take pictures of me -
just let me stay here for a few more minutes."

asleep by 8pm.

last night we made car bombs, offensively,
re-apraising each others' presence.

yesterday i introduce you to bukowski.
today, i text you about the lyrics to this song.
three months ago you caught me off guard.
two hours ago you danced with your bunny in my room.
and four days ago you introduced the book that changed my life.
ten days ago i fed you with the last food i had
and tomorrow i'll love you more
because you stayed with me all day today
laughing at the same jokes i told you when i woke up.

when you wish me a good day when i walk out the door,
i do - because, well...

"... The aura that surrounds this book of Salinger’s is this: it mirrors like a fun-house mirrors. It amplifies like a distorted speaker one of the great tragedies of our time; the death of the imagination.

Because, what else is paralysis?

The imagination has been so debased that imagination - being imaginative rather than being the lynchpin of our existence - now stands as a synonym for something outside ourselves like science fiction or some new use for tangerine slices on raw pork chop... The imagination has moved out of the realm of being our link - our most personal link - with our inner lives and the world outside that world, this world we share.

What is schizophrenia but a horrifying state where what’s in here doesn’t match up to what’s out there?
Why has imagination become a synonym for style?

I believe the imagination is the passport we create to help take us into the real world. I believe the imagination is merely another phrase for what is most uniquely us.

Jung says, “The greatest sin is to be unconscious.”

Our boy Holden says, “What scares me the most is the other guy’s face. It wouldn’t be so bad if you could both be blindfolded.”

Most of the time, the faces that we face are not the other guy’s, but our own faces. And it is the worst kind of yellowness to be so scared of yourself, that you put blindfolds on rather than deal with yourself. To face ourselves—that’s the hard thing.

The imagination, that’s God’s gift, to make the act of self-examination, bearable."

- six degrees of separation

day 2. trees

driveway. bel air. december 2009.


treed. chris. bel air. december 2009.


chris treeclimb. december 2009.


jump. december 2009


power.outage. december 2009.


end.day. december 2009

mansfield.mondays.

newspaper glide. tyler. mansfield. los angeles, november 2009


oh my kaub. kaub. kaub. mansfield. los angeles, november 2009


b rose t. LOOK! mansfield. los angeles, november 2009


playing it unsafe. chris's hair. mansfield. los angeles, november 2009

a beautiful mess.

eight years ago i found this guy whose quirky lyrics helped me pass difficult times. i watched him at small bars and venues whenever he happened to be in the area, memorizing every song one by one. eight years later i heard his name again when he sold out the hollywood bowl. and out of curiosity as to what he's been up to, i have discovered that i am, indeed, a mess.

lost wallet and found dignity. portland, oregon - (jeff, mike, and tim).


up high.


mikey rests up high.


t&j. lit.


portland brothers.


nope - your wallet ain't here either.


up top. and to the left.

day 1. newspaper

chris, yellow newspaper. mansfield, november 2009.


chris, burst newspaper. mansfield, november 2009.


chris, crowned. mansfield, november 2009.


jamal. mansfield, november 2009.

at home.

jess. colin's room. sierra bonita, august 2009.

friendsgiving.

pilgrim tyler.


pilgrim kaub.


indian colin.


indian fei.


pilgrim tyler + indian chris


pilgrim greta + pilgrim ariel


indians.


pilgrims.

friendsgiving 2009. begins. (4 hours ago).

what if you were told
that the only thing
that ties us all together
is the fear of being
alone.

next time i have a chance
to tell you face to face
all the things i've learned
since you left my life,

i think
you'd find a more refined vision
of the chaos
of this perspective.

it's important for me
that you know - no,
i wasn't confused.

do you remember
that car ride
when we brought up
the purple monsters
under our beds?

predictable disposition.
predictable vocabulary -

look at this teen, american.

my my. my.

and in reaction,
we visited the weeping wall.
returning to the crevices
that promised that
we'd all finally
get a glance of god.
she sent quiet kisses
down the narrow
mouthways.
i cried at the splendid
sight of all finally
finding happiness.

i did not expect
i'd find
that you were finally gone -
and that some sweet
words were make believe,

and stand back and sleep,
finding that happiness meant
we were, ineed, alone.

and that peace
of mind was
the only gift
we could bring.

i. I. i.

the necessity of Fact -
stripped of all emotion,
in what is now, merely,
a convenient retrospect.
a building of idealism
and the predictability
of our reactions made ever word
excusable.

cliche, yes.

and what gets tangled
in unspoken words
and misunderstood action -
light-trails open
to interpretation,

i filled a void,
i, a surrogate need.
i filled a void,
i, a blackout soundboard
i filled a void,
i, a space of warmth.

the necessity of Fact -
the bold need to draw the lines
that separate us.

i couldn't see an end of it.

she finished her poptart
and two cigarettes before we
made it to the food truck.
after a short visit to
loading dock of the post office,
a single u-turn, and atm,
we parked behind it,
waited for our names to be called.
we pour hot sauce and talk about
expected digestion sitting
in the red zone.

she reassures me of where i am rooted now.

this long transformation of thought
consists of a lot of silence.
my baby brother made me proud
when a certain action matched
a certain promise.

this space between us,
spoken to drunken ears,
rested on facts tainted
by useless emotions.

pleasure meant running away
from any further development.

we made a case out
of clay from fragmented antiques.
its worth shattering
at the acquisition of disillusionment.

so to deal
we killed zombies
over greasy pizza and cold whiskey.

"um... i think the dog ran away...

perplexed by human behavior
and all the motivations
to hurt one another.

indifference, a bitch with no collar.

and it all appeared at once - a transitory clarification. warmly induced, his indifference allowed for a question to turn into close-eyed conversation that lasted til dawn. i didn't even notice the sun tapping me on the shoulder, stunned by repeated accusations, my eyes become swollen shut. all the fingers pointed at me. i was welcomed with tight lips and disappointed stares. all apologies returned, none of us could plead innocence to this whole affair. to each, there were pieces missing from any real clarification. all feelings unbound, my guilt left me dirtied at all endpoints of all their rationalizations.

unthreaded,
he follows the breeze.
fair and rugged,
he lands on
unforgiving lands.
expectations
arise to unfamiliar
silence.

he discovers
a heartbeat
at the tip of his finger.
ghosts flutter
in his stomach,
dodging glances
for fear of
transparency.

a gift
returned for freedom,
anxiety itching his feet,
he follows
familiar roads to
falling stars and
modern ruins.

leaving his
feelings on
the kitchen table
they extinguish a
shared smoke,
and fall victim to
the limited nature of all
of these words.

"i don't think life is absurd. i think we are all here for a huge purpose. i think we shrink from the immensity of the purpose we are here for."

i miss
you.
too.

chairlift.

aware of his losses,
his friend's words at the bar last night
leaves a ringing in his ear -
his chest already heavy from
last night's dinner.
his whole body shaking through sleep,
he repeatedly seems to hear the faint
chimes of his lullaby-like ringtone,
even in a silent room.
phantom vibrations against his leg
make him believe that
he's about to receive some good news,
which never really comes.
his desperation is much less sweet
when dark circles form around
eyes swollen shut.
(vulnerability only appealing
when you can offer sound advice).
with no one able to make any offering,
he peaks in his loneliness
in the middle of the night,
plummeting quickly at dawn.

i have proven to be a lot slower than i used to be -
mostly, words that never quite make it to my tongue.
all the capacity to filter lost in written words
that are often left unread.
my history written in broad strokes of light.
unable to create when i find myself
in some dark corner.
until brave hands pull my imagination out of this place,
it rests in the repetition of these words
of apology. and mythology.

my life a myth,
only denied or confirmed
by these hands that come and go.
wherever truth lies, is where i find
the reason to leave you again.
only,
you beat me to the punch.

Loveless - Okay

"to weep is to make less the depth of grief." - william shakespeare.

clean/movie/shower/drive/bank/drive away/gas station/park/bay cities/little ethiopia/street fair/thrift shop/urth/bodhi tree/ sierra bonita/ pizza/beer/scrabble/yatze/vertical sleep/walk/astro burger/walk/smoke/drive/sleep.

the star shot down
suspended in time
i rubbed my eyes clear
and looked again.
my two friends
lying in the road
behind me mouths
dropped wide open
in the silence
of seeing
what an epiphany
exactly looked like.
i spent the next
three minutes
making wishes for you.

Shout Me Out - TV On The Radio

i found my harmonica in the glove box of my car today
and played a little breathing game to sounds
stuck in the lunchtime hollywood summer traffic.

opting out on empty conversations,
i drop everyone's lunch off, set up the table and drive back home.
i sit by the air condition and eat my hot pasta.

i think a lot about how i spend my days
traveling in my head to the obvious places to find
a satisfying conversations that i cannot have in the city anymore.

the closer i get to you, the further i feel from truth.
and the more i think about you the further i feel any sense of sanity
what action are in accordance to words we forget?

the reason she's gone and i'm still here eludes me.
maybe it was to finally learn before i actually leave
what my life could have been here without you.

and i hope for the best for you
and can now say we both tried.

talk about moving on, we move on.
we talking about moving, and we are on
the ugliness that'll finally let us live again.

shout me out. tv on the radio.

since you.
she can see
everyones
hesitation
to become
close to her.

since you.
she's learned
that the thing
she fears
the most is
loneliness.

since you.
her dependency
has become
something
very real.

and has become
the one thing
she works and
thinks against.

since you.
she's learned
about herself
and resents
every good
thing about
her.

words wrapped up in music.
a new mix.

1. new slang. the shins
2. olive hearts. bowerbirds
3. blackbird/yesterday. the beatles
4. someone great. lcd soundsystem
5. no one's gonna love you. band of horses
6. cry me a river. ella fitzgerald
7. while my guitar gently weeps. the beatles
8. lovestain. jose gonzalez
9. intermission. (the same in any language)
10. metal heart. cat power
11. reason why. rachel yamagata
12. harsh words. lonely dear
13. i'll bring you home. jennifer o'connor
14. wait for summer. yeasayer
15. feel the love. cut copy.
16. wall-o. king walrus & jesus
17. in the water. feist
18. skeleton. yeah yeah yeahs

-de.jesus.
((thank you)).

i'm a little bit of everywhere.

sunday, august 30th, 2009 -- you can count on others to come through for you in very basic ways today and this will be more important than superficial words or grandiose promises. your friends might not be overly demonstrative now, but there won't be any doubt about their love and support. don't be afraid to ask for what you need because you'll likely receive it.

sunday began on rooftops
staring at the fires in the horizon.
i smoke the cigarette you give me
and hang my head over the edge of the building,
an instant rush turns my face flush
i take my first drag.

and somewhere between there and here
i ended up in a cafe
demanding any sandwich that had bacon,
the waitress laughed at my request
and obliged ten minutes later.
distracted, i stopped eating it
and threw it back into the paper bag
as my friend handed my
a bacon wrapped hotdog a block later.

airhumped while asleep.
i slept unphased until
a 4:30 wake up call,
another friend demanding i
roll out of his sleeping space,
i catch myself half asleep
laughing along with
the hawaii breeze machine
that forces me to wrap up in
the sleeping bag
already waiting for me.

we pass each other
in the morning
as each wake to footsteps by their heads.

we take detours
and end up in the grocery store,
i end up in my kitchen
with the fan he moved
to cool me off.

quick naps induced by the heat
and fried comfort food,
goodbyes were short
in our different states of nap.

we talk of dreams turned plot,
advice about new acquisitions
and plans to visit home again

i play my favorite movie
in an empty house,
fan in my face.

my telephone rings.
followed by a ride
with radiohead and dj am

that song that's been repeating
in everyone's car
dumbs me out to its beat.
i catch myself from singing about
missing someone great.



i call from my mother

i hug from an old friend
(he knows not how much i need it)

and even the fucking hello
never felt much better.

thank you.

all my friends
are writing songs with their girlfriends,
i listen by my windows
on a warm summer night
to all the sounds of wild love
before expected
goodbyes.

last night
i had a cigarette in my room,
paralyzed by the heat
and exhaustion caused by
all this new quiet.
i review the past
slowly one last time -
i'd never be able to keep up
with my readings if
i took anymore time.

i sorted out my head in a cold theater

*** he throws the cards
says he quits
say that there is enough bullshit in the world
without his own contribution. ***

"i was never much of a dancer but I know enough to know you gotta move your idiot body around. and you can't, can't settle down until the idiot in your blood settles down...so move around. i'll move around. i'll move around."

slighted by a tender hand.

your old men shall dream dreams,
your young men shall see visions.

joel 2:26

narcolepsy slides.

they were definitely rocking out to this
when i woke up in time to see the car make impact.




...it's a lot funnier than it sounds

Love Story - Taylor Swift

atlas sound (featuring panda bear). walkabout.

on a september morning she watches a movie based on the book she gave him.
the song caught her attention as the scene unfolded.
beautiful trifectums
and the damage
of its
end.

put a soul into it, love.

Its Gonna Take A Miracle - Laura Nyro;LaBelle

catastrophic were the words we used
unable to explain our disposition.
our hands left dirty with
no effort of explantation.
and our deviation from where we began -
forced us to make turns without
really knowing how our own shifting
pulled everyone out of
their comfort zones.

it'd be nice to believe
that you had that much impact,

foolishly, he believes
that this act
will gain
some kind
of sympathy -
for a thing they, themselves, had given up on long ago.

you pity him for what he's worth
and what he wants it for.

a passing moment gone.

"...this is so laughable
whatever happened to
knowing that this
was forever..."

"

he once told me to never tell him to grow up. i watch in amazement as he creates a grand carnival out of his life. he carried with him a menagerie of friendships, fragilely clicking against one another. they would create a fine shimming dust if he should happen to stumble one of these days. at the age of three he mastered the love of a mother, and began molding an unconditional thing into visible things. he refused to grow up in fear that would never be able to carry out what he was born here to do. one day he notices a missing piece. In retracing his steps he was asked to return the pieces he was given. walking backwards, he realizes, " maybe it's time for that stumble."

a fine dust, indeed.
and another pile to prove it.

strings untied,
magic gets
the elephant
out of the room.

you can only really recognize
the discreet mistakes someone makes
if you are guilty, too
of the explanations you make for them.

i counted to ten.
you were gone by five.
putting the other
five in your pocket
to buy yourself
something
nice.

you weren't sure how i'd take the news,
so you rehearsed a more polite version of
what you otherwise would have said.
i carried a newspaper in my hand
in case i needed to sit at a bench alone
and cover my pathetic face.

you shamed me into loving you
then forgot every word you said.
and hated me for the newfound expectations
i found out of words
that were supposed
to just stay in your head.

i blamed the jack and coke.
you laugh and reassure me
that you didn't tell me
you loved me
because i already knew that.

but by the time
the clock struck
and you kissed
me.

it turned into an uneven game
of cat an mouse.

you make me hate myself
more than anything else in my life
for what i did
when i was confused.

i leave you to your decor, old friend.
with my pride tied around the noose.

you tell me goodbye.
and i hate to say it.

there isn't enough room for all of us in this closet anymore.
find your own.
find you own.
find you own.

find your own.

sunday morning, she burned her hand making breakfast,
worrying about the refinancing and cut in work hours,
she attempted to solve everyone else's problems,
forcing her to fall back on taking care of herself.
she cleans all night and sits with her son the next morning.

it left her thinking.
it left her thinking.

"i'll leave this world with very few things and a whole lot of words."

and i once again,
ilearn of my rich inheritance
in all the stories

we can
tell.

sleeping lessons (live) - the shins