i need to start making lists. they seem like a good way to organize thoughts.

i regret not buying the new moon soundtrack yesterday.

every night i enjoy orions company.
he is the most interesting thing in my life.
man has cluttered the sky too much, if only i could get a better look.
turn off the cities, extract the satellites from the sky,
let me see for christs sake.

your fingers forgot
the routine
the 7 digit pattern
across the plastic
across the distance
across the river

stay on your side of the river
please

i'm about to go get drunk. satisfaction perhaps?



i hope........

taking it easy for awhile.

everything is just so fake and meaningless right now. that's all.

that instant karma always comes too late.

no thought.
no out put.
no noise
from that vocal box,
that is shoved
way down
your throat.

just absorbtion.
just an intake
of beauty
or even the horrid.

just let
the wind blow
--don't let it stop.
don't stop it.

i don't know where i want to go to college.
i don't know what i want to major in.
i don't know, man.

do you want to know what i am?
i am a great big ball of matter. i'm just a bunch of shit floating around, colliding. each collision sparks a thought that i let run my life, a path i follow with a flashlight. i have found that i am the cowardly lion, the scare crow, and the tin man; lacking a dorothy to guide me down the yellow brick road. i'm as lonely as ever, turning to literature and the occasional vinyl to calm me down. to the naked eye i am neutral, but add a nice new pair of spectacles, with a golden frame and thick lenses, and i am the assasination of the archduke. to most i am the sum of rational thought and bright ideas, to myself i am a mess of spontanious action, misdirected by madness and paranoia; a sense of disturbia that has me hiding beneathe the covers while the monsters prey upon me from under the bed. i suffer from insomnia, and possibly borderline personality disorder. i am turned on by the very thought of the cosmos, and our peculiar small size compared to everything else; i am turned off when i claim myself as part of the most advanced species on the planet.

i'm in the middle of reading a book called Under The Banner of Heaven. it's basically about mormon fundamentalists. i keep reading about rape, and abuse, and girls that can be their own step-grandmother based on their family tree. i can't help but wonder why the religion is based upon obedience. is it so they control their followers? all i know, is that i could never have enough faith in something, that hurt me so much. other than love, that is.

you know that thing that happens when you stand up to quickly, and you can't see or even feel your body, but you keep walking so nobody knows it's happening to you? so you keep walking, and you can see a little bit by now, but there a huge black splotches in your sight. and you walk but can't feel your legs, and you don't know where they're taking you.
you don't care.
in that moment your not real.
my brother was walking out the door, and as he said "see ya",
i said,
"i can't see you because i've stood up too quickly"
he replied, "stop smoking, and that'll stop happening"
"i kind of like it" i said.
that's what it is.
i like it when the world stops.
thats why i go out and shoot a basketball by myself sometimes. i have no love for the sport, despite years of playing, up until 8th grade. i like the fact that i can go outside, and the worst thought that enters my head is, "does that guy running past my house think i'm a bad basketball player?"
i don't have to think about the things that normally enter my head. it's like my mind has been exiled. i don't think about things that make me sad, or being lonely. i don't think "what if" about anything. i don't think about what i'm doing tomarrow, or if the person i have a crush on is thinking about me. all i think about is the hoop. i think about the amount of arch i'm putting in my shot.
the craziest part about this, is that basketball isn't my "thing".
art & music are.
but behind each song, each peice i create, is me.
i am no longer being exiled. i am there 110%.
i don't like that.
it makes me sad. i think about all of the pain, i obsess over it. i obsess over each person i'm trying to impress. i over analyse each word a friend has said to me, trying to find a meaning, until i have created a false perception of everything. because i am an art kid, and each and every part of every day has meaning. every line, in a book, each riff in a song, the static before it plays, the uneasy vocals, the extra paint on the canvas, it all means something. it wouldn't be what it is with out it. it's just millions, and millions, of varibles, and without just one, your whole world could be changed instantly. turned upside down.
i hate math.
all of these variables make me dizzy. the thought is mind boggling. i can't add them up. i cannot subtract them. it is beyond my realm of understanding. it's too much. i can't compute it all. it's like a million knives being thrown at my head. i breakdown. i can't understand anything because there is too much there. it's too complicated.
even if it isn't, even if it is the most simple thing in the world, such as a paperclip, i would wonder who designed it. why they did. how it changed they're life. and now everytime i think of paper clips, i think of the man who in vented them and maybe each time i unravel a paper clip, i unravel part of his life. i wish i could stop unravelling him.
it's like i'm a fly stuck in a million spider webs.
i cannot find my way out.
i'm tangled in a mess of a world.
i make everything into something it isn't.
i'm tangled in my head, my thoughts, my life.
if only it made some sense.

you can't believe that he's really gone,
and all thats left is a fucking song.

i need to leave this place.

kapishe?

i think i have an eatting disorder.
fuck the media.

so i have a hit of acid sitting in my room.
and i wish it were tomarrow already, so then i could take it and go see marshall tucker at the inner harbor, and watch a meteor shower afterwards.

i mean come on, that sounds like a swell plan...
i'm really not that excited about it because the last two times i dropped hits, i didn't trip, well barely.




:)

i'd break all my bones if it ment she'd be operating on me.

mmmmmmm.

i have $113 dollars in my pocket and i'm going to go blow it on drugs.
three cheers for being young, stupid, and a burnout.