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.