| a latent soul |
[May. 1st, 2008|08:40 pm] |
if a soul is unexerted into the real world
when one does not bridge the gap between their spirit's intentions and their avatar's actions
this essence does not exist in this world
just as you cannot hear a song I haven't written yet
if somebody loves you and cannot show you they do
the love is unfelt, never made real
it does not exist |
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| and now for something completely different |
[Oct. 26th, 2007|02:11 am] |
this is much more in the vein of how I used to write
I used to be more of a thinker than a feeler, you know
the experiences I've incurred seem to have informed my vocabulary a great deal
allowing this meditation to be properly articulated
( Goodness and Uncertainty ) |
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| I mean, I suppose I'd like to get to know you, in the biblical sense. |
[Oct. 19th, 2007|05:43 pm] |
Smoky. Incessant jabbering of the ancients in the air.
An imaginary fedora perched on my messy hair.
I blink and it's all sepia.
This morning I woke up and improved a song on guitar and voice.
It's hideous in a wonderful way. I do love my voice.
Drove to the library today. I had to get directions from the printer.
Put the registration sticker on my car first. Don't want another ticket.
Found a strange smelling copy of The Stranger. Tried to apply for a library card.
I needed a piece of mail or something as proof of residence.
Read about two chapters before noticing I hadn't eaten all day.
Left, supermarket, mailbox, home.
Suppose I'll make some tea, light some incense, pack some resin and write.
Crazy, reckless Friday nights. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 11th, 2007|08:43 am] |
| [ | sound |
| | inrainbows.com - new radiohead, pay any price you want for download | ] |
can't say goodbye yet.
don't want to hear about anything. (oooh, cryptic. very enticing, please go on.)
my lack of trust is a natural, healthy reaction.
those who worry for me operate under false pretenses and are afflicted themselves.
victims propagate their hunters, in a way. some victims create hunters out of others.
the other way around happens in a much more obvious fashion. victims and hunters tend to blur, at a certain point.
(victim in this context is "one who plays victim", or "victim-type" more than a real victim.)
to numb myself to past injustice dissolves my creativity into little bits
so no more. (but I don't WANT to remember! stopitstopitstopit) I need the memories of them, the hate they gave me to propell me past it. opportunistic animals, I was one, when I was young. (I changed, they didn't, I suffer, I won't change back but I will change)
so, to reiterate:
"can't say goodbye yet."
Do I really want to say goodbye?
Yes. I want to wash my hands of the whole thing.
I know this is probably my most intelligent option.
However I feel compelled to stay in some kind of contact,
though it's mostly "look how much fun I'm having!"
it bores me and still makes me upset.
I keep looking for the her inside her. she disappeared.
she tucked it all away when she decided to be happy.
she didn't bring herself with her.
she winked herself away.
she rides with them now.
is that what I'm supposed to do?
fuck that shit.
"don't want to hear about anything."
These words simply came...she wants to share more life stories.
I don't think I need to be happy for her. I think she needs to be happy for her.
It makes me wonder why other people need to be happy for her too.
When you brag, are you truly that happy about what you've done?
Or simply telling other people? What takes precedence?
What really makes you happy?
The more I stare at the problem,
I see her more as a concept than anything.
contact reinforces my perception of the compromised, empty, gone.
I don't know if that's true right now. It was once true, but I would hope she's not that anymore.
my hope and perception are both guesses. I can't discern if they fall short of the truth, not from here.
I want to detatch the concept from her but they're so tied.
Now it is time to stop thinking about women and feelings and go study for a test.
Au revoir. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 9th, 2007|12:39 am] |
Quarantine me, I flee the city for the sea
I must reach isolation before I spread the disease
Eyelids hang heavy, sickness sweeps swift
Turned a tired evening into looming lonely death
I'm blind, I’m blind, I’m blind to the answer
I’m fine, fine, I’m fine white powder
Can’t forget my ancestor’s struggles
Death we’ve cheated, fucked and cuddled
It’s the family way but I pledged to stray
Alternative is gazing longingly into the fray
Trying to make both sides of my head friends again
Wake up at the witching hour wish I caught the pendulum
Right in between my optical inputs
Dual core processor, divorce papers served
Love one! Dear God, if you’d divide my good from evil
I promise to be two vacant typically stupid people |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 30th, 2007|03:06 am] |
I realized tonight that my belief in something beyond this world comes from some sort of inner knowledge that I don't belong here, that whatever my consciousness consists of, it is not of this place.
I fear the ones I love. Those I am close to are destructive self-pity machines. They exist within this culture's hive-continuum and are rich and privileged and pretty, yet they just can't figure out why that doesn't make them happy. So they indulge further, thinking they must not be taking advantage of their privilege enough. Deeper and deeper. It never ends. There is no bottom. The sky is the limit.
They seek not to infect me, yet they have found many a way to do so.
I am my own antidote. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 20th, 2007|01:51 am] |
queens of the stone age fucking rocked
they were really humble and just sorta took the stage without much adieu (after the openers, of course)
great show. pumped me fulla happy excited chemicals that I should let soothe me into sleep now.
I just had the Pixie's second album Doolittle on my mind, just got it a week ago (I've had Surfer Rosa forever, about time). The song "Debaser" relating to the surrealist Dalí film where this chick gets her eye sliced open and how he wants to grow up and debase (to make lower, degrade) art and such. I find that there's no such thing as art that means nothing...even if you want it to mean nothing, it's just impossible. It will always say something, despite your intentions. Irony rocks.
ok going to sleep now
nights! |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 14th, 2007|12:26 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | lyrics | ] |
| [ | where? |
| | bed | ] |
| [ | sound |
| | air conditioning | ] |
You meant so much to me. For months you were my best friend
Now I’m not even sure I’ll ever trust your voice again.
My mind thumbs through the pages of our tale and tries to call
But even if you do pick up, there’s no one there at all
Am I really so bitter? You make it sound like bitter’s bad
I guess my all too loving nature made for all the times we had
Just a simple glimpse behind me used to make the evenings longer
But it seems this season sees that absence makes the heart grow stronger
Wrong or right, I refuse to fight the protest in my soul
It was never about spiting you, never about control
By the end I wanted you to understand your own unfairness
Clearly LSD and heady weed don’t do much for awareness
The despair that still keeps seizing you is proof you have diseases, too
No reason to hide you from me, I wanted us to see the truth
Our eulogy was poorly written, begging for a sequel
But we should wait until we can again be decent people
wrote some, did some work.
blasted no new york. hehehe.
I feel better.
I also feel tired.
nights. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 13th, 2007|12:18 am] |
this is a weird process. I've experienced the come down, I'm in reality again.
I'm here to get a degree. feel a bit automated and robotic, not looking for WILD TYMES WHOA like the other kids my age.
I can't relate. I never operated on the same wavelength as these people without being under the influence (and even when I was...)
I guess I'd like to go out and live but I don't really know what that entails.
well...
I am in process of joining a band, I think. I'm learning a bunch of kinda dumb cover songs but they're dedicated , warm people. that's new. technical metal players...really well done, intricate stuff. I really want this gig. freaking out on stage is the best medicine. (just ask henry rollins: cold fingers! cold fingers!)
seems like no one ever calls me back
whenever someone's like "yeah I'll call you" I sorta just laugh inside
heh. fucking pigs. people on drugs don't really care how they come off. I used to think that was cool until I realized they don't care how they come off to people close to them either, they just sort of expect them to accept them and love them no matter how they treat other people. i wonder if I was consistently a selfish prick. I guess I'll never know. heart tells me no, but, ya know. it means well but it's vision gets foggy.
hindsight.
jefferson airplane is pretty sick despite hippies. in fact, grace slick thought it was pretty ridiculous that alice clearly trips balls in a children's book and then we expect our kids not to do drugs.
I find that the people that listen to different types of music and their interpretations turn me off more than the music itself.
White Rabbit's bassline...ahh it's so wonderful and ominous. I've been working on a slap version of it, a lil bit.
cover ideas keep floating on through my head as do original song ideas. I long for my forthcoming recording setup. it's always just a few pieces of equipment away, it seems. maybe I'll get to do some of it with the band, if all works out. they like my energy, apparently. :shrug:
been really into "no new york" recently. puts all the noise rock bands I've heard these days to shame...why is everything so done in rock music? it doesn't seem possible. there has to be further directions. godspeed has (had? they still together?) it. qotsa has it. can't think of much else right now.
aesop rock dropped another dense antisocialite friendly album named "none shall pass" which is really growing on me. it's not like swagga-packed bazooka tooth aes, not even really his next big evolution, kinda more in the vein of his pre-bazooka material (in terms of his lyrical approach). his production keeps getting better and better though, his beats bump and rock at the same time. sweet.
i wish i didn't have to learn all these shitty songs to get into this awesome band.
that way I could just listen to all the fucked up artsy music I want without learning other songs after.
I guess this is what they call "discipline." I want this enough. trying to keep an open mind, anyway.
doing well in school. i like my classes so far. this is a new thing. |
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| :deep breath: |
[Sep. 2nd, 2007|02:54 am] |
| [ | where? |
| | apartment! | ] |
| [ | feeling |
| | :) | ] |
| [ | sound |
| | Satya - Forward | ] |
ahhh.
I'm in Winter Park, FL in my new apartment.
I haven't really been smoking at all.
I am...content. And I'm content with my contentedness.
This is rather rare. I'm excited for school. I'm going to Full Sail and learning about music computer recordings and how to make them.
It is a new day. |
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| good morning satan |
[Jul. 12th, 2007|09:20 am] |
| [ | where? |
| | bed | ] |
| [ | sound |
| | caw, caw, caw. chirp, chirp chirp. | ] |
fuck you dreams. now I remember why I don't have you.
I wanna move to the moon.
could you even imagine it? in all its grand serenity.
the colony, the people on the colony.
as soon as we could moonfarm and have a constant source of air and water I'd succeed from the Earth
and I'd be with all my best friends on the moon.
and we'd all bounce around together until time destroys our fragile frames, little by little.
space is like the ocean but you can't touch it.
since space is an example of actual humanly unfathomable infinity, and the ocean is just really, really big
the ocean looks a lot bigger and is inherently more frightening.
I hope to have fun on Earth in the meantime though. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 2nd, 2007|12:11 am] |
so much anger in the boy, eh?
as I walk through the valley in the shadow of the prudential center
in the heart of the void
i remember everything
i tried, i did
but this future was aborted
this is not my world
this is their world
i go underground
i make my friends out of ink and noise |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 1st, 2007|06:41 am] |
i guess i was just wasn't open the right way.
thats why i dont make friends. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 1st, 2007|05:29 am] |
i wish the whole world would shut up and stop bragging.
you know, maybe life is a crazy sexy thrill ride for you people,
but I don't care. my life isn't your life. shut the fuck up.
my nights are cold. my solace is solitude. it's all i got.
but go on. do tell about your adventures.
tell me about how it's all so sad, somehow.
tell me it's my fault.
by the way the trip went well (no, really).
i'm just lonely and needy. sick boys can't flag down friends quite the same way girls can.
and the world just don't like a fresh faced boy for anything but ridicule.
the 'open' show their true colors when they think you're not looking.
but, you know, it's a man's world. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 13th, 2007|02:58 pm] |
a couple scribblings from non-rhyme book sources that I wanted to save on the internet so I don't lose em.
since I lost the first rhyme book, it has occured to me that I should digitally save things I really like.
(the only things I still have from that book are in my murky memory and on here under the 'lyrics' tag)
on folded-up piece of paper in pocket:
"my feelings have no function and the follow them's an error
what's the issue? is submission really that much out of character?
unstable but so capable the world holds me culpable
for culturing emotions which produce nothing remarkable
refusing medication cause more headaches than it cures
why's it so complicated for a tainted soul to pure?
this hateful world had drained me of my will to keep my brain true
when it's preventative of work I've made it through the days to do
betrayed by natural processes must rise above my animal
but when the will to kill exists solutions so mechanical
may be the only way to exit ugly situations
when you mope away your only hope for change is detonation
and the overseers know the souls I puncture with my shrapnel
only serve the form the soldiers I contend against in battle
so cut my courage open and distill me of my essence
is success vs. depression actually a fucking question?"
a verse for an upcoming track with danny
in music notebook:
"I pump a positive pulse but of course I seem a cynic
when I jab with my pen, I stab a martyr per minute
I wrote the program that froze ya modem, so get with it
not even aliens be spittin lyrics |this acidic
system| never sleeps, feel the gears grind into my stomach
hope plummets, machine pieces come up in my vomit
no variants on my experiements altar the outcome
hack blood and battery acid up out of my bad lung
"satya where's the other one?" I sold it for talent
hey great investment, less people read my words than prince valiant
I'm so indie, your hipster sister hasn't even heard of me
try to find me on the net it's haystack surgery
meet the needles! we form up most of your friends list
identify my blood like CSI forenzics
identify my sweat throughout a septic sentence
identify the poet with a blown appendix
-
distort my chords like Hendrix with no pedal to reverse it
holler out my autobio til my mint condition worsens
so SICK of comMON colLEGATE conTEMPT
for a corresponding cause combined with suicidal bent
remind me of a time when comin close to death meant comin close to livin
cause resignation to self-hatred is the white religion
starts with the incision works its way to full blown
psycho my life's a joke! throw myself in front of a bicycle (swerve and crash noises)
I found a way to satiate my angst and save face
the act of killin and creatin soothe the same place
no need to hope for hype when I show up at open mic
mellow high off the pipe I throw the flow you know you like
I sow the seed that show the soldiers how to ache and bleed
the coldest shoulders open over broken poetry
my memory's depleted so I breathe the reasoning
that I believe in, TRANSMISSION COMPLETED"
first four lines are mad old. wrote em during the rhetorical oracle days. picked up on em the other day.
I may post more lyrics over time. Or maybe not. No promises. |
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| sick of being stabbed by the matador |
[Apr. 6th, 2007|11:57 am] |
the crowd began to billow with the killers it collects
and everytime you lunged he plunged another dagger in your neck
the day you gored the matador he let out such a sound
that it echoed in your eardrums til the day they put you down |
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| yeah |
[Feb. 11th, 2007|07:01 pm] |
so my computer's broken
but everything's going well
not too much is going on right now but I suspect that may change
the future is full of surprises
new smashing pumpkins in july (7/7/07)
phone is now my primary form of communiQuation
i guess til my computer gets back
so ring if you wanna
pax |
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| "Is it bright where you are? Have the people changed? Does it make you happy you're so strayeeange?" |
[Jan. 16th, 2007|03:50 pm] |
| [ | sound |
| | The Smashing Pumpkins - The End Is the Beginning Is the End | ] |
amanda and danny came up this weekend
i suppose i haven't really looked for new friends because i feel my old ones are irreplaceable
this is only proving more true as time goes on
i love my classes (four music classes, math, three music lessons), i have dominion over [salmon] as it is not the focal point of my life anymore, making music with john is fantastic and natural, i write iller rhymes more often (now that i write to relieve stress), i have a wonderful relationship with someone that understands me a bit more than i do (and vice versa),
despair not, sweet child
my previous urges are understood by others
(i feel so much better it makes me tear remembering my world without this peace)
destructive, repressed energy that begs for expression
we know what happens when it's not let out
it feels good to get my head back and solidify who i am
(instead of drifting away)
that way i have something to say when i get the chance
(peace is the way)
"There is no such thing as distraction; just inspiration." |
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