he's writing a novel about the apocalypse

he's about 400 pages into it, wars between devils and angels. it's guaranteed not to justify the dead trees it will be printed on. i kiss her and tell her i love her while jotting on some paper, "this life is not worth living."

i always find myself throwing things away

i've probably had one of the more typical white suburban upbringings a kid can have in this world. this makes me ignorant to other ways of life only in the sense that i may not have experienced them first hand, making those that have not experienced mine first hand equally ignorant. this ignorance to the experiences of others is universal and because of this, should not be considered a burden, or should be considered the burden of experience as we know it. communication helps us to alleviate this burden, or accentuate it. we come from a place we have no control over into a world that already has plans for us before we exist. then we wonder why there's no justice. just because something isn't there doesn't mean it isn't meant to be, or can't be.

¡hey, su pescado está en mi boca, gracias!

art, it's an interesting thing. you can teach certain skills and concepts, but creativity and inspiration? perhaps you can guide it and provide resources for development, but not the way you can instill facts on eager pupils. the art kids go to school so they can make money doing drawings and painting and manipulating images in interesting ways. i bet they'd strangle each other for their ideal job. i might pay to see that, then the remains could be an installation piece titled; motivated artists.

everybody look up in anticipation

you better get a dream fast and then hurry up and chase it. otherwise how will you know if you failed? you'll just feel disappointed and uncertain of life without a reason. it's better to have that perpetual carrot in front of you, so you don't stop and realize the absurdity of it all.

the wall wears it like a smile, a creepy smile

i took first place, but after that i still had to go home and be in bed before 9. mom said so. i guess i was happy, but looking at it now it didn't really matter, and only made things to come seem worse.

mediocrity

to be really good at something, like the best, you have to take your whole existence and focus it on that one thing, then maybe you'll be good at it. focus. like luke skywalker. except don't lose your hand. and never have a crush on your sister. that's gross.

let's move someplace crazy that other people are scared to go. let's do what they won't, they're all lame, look at them. lame-wads.

rockstars are not normal people.

i call 'em like i see 'em

he told stories between the acoustic songs he played. they didn't really go anywhere, but no one cared. they just wanted to feel a part of something more. a world they'd only heard through speakers and headphones. a world that no longer exists and even small traces like memories are becoming more scarce. the extinction of moments is constant and infinite. the thousands of fans he's played for has now dwindled to fifty, and it feels more like an open mic than a concert. getting older can't make it easier, but it doesn't seem to matter. there's an honesty and sincerity behind it that you can't fake. he's an artist because he's trying to say something, and it's obvious. he hasn't given up like those crippled by their own past. he's doing something new and no one can stop him. the world will be a different place.

they say god is a dying man that hates us, with nothing to fear or hold back

i'd like to say i'd do something completely different when faced with the same situation, but the truth is i'd probably respond in the most commonly expected way just because people expect it, to not stand out when i don't want to. there's probably a sociological term for this. something like, the expected reaction theory. someone probably wrote a book about it and is now living off of having written the quintessential book of the expected reaction theory. they now live someplace warm with an ocean view, on a cliff or mountain somewhere, still getting paid to talk about what they think about their ideas and ideas that have come around since. more of the latter, of course.

ok, someone you know is dead. so?

have a drink and stay a while. there's not much better to do. we're making folk songs without a message of hope, or a message at all. i want to see the stars fall out of the sky like electric rain and to run with the screaming crowds toward a non-existent shelter. i want to see their faces, those i never really cared for, those i did, and even more i'd never seen before, knowing we're all going though the same thing. we always have been, but most had their heads in the clouds, until now. now we all see each other exactly the same; fucked.

do you need any valium?

no thanks, i'm good.

but i do need to work on these things:

watercolor cards
a canvas
something for mother
strange gloves
a mask that works
investigate the car's make
just a radio
a bottle of wine
or five
call in sick
a record contract
more canvas might be necessary
job should have come first
feeling better about things in general

people we knew

they haven't killed themselves since you've not been in their lives. they probably don't plan on it either. they're planning out ways to make things better, or things already are. you don't have anything to do with these plans. the plans exist like their creators, independant and functional without you. a boy, with a pole, attached to a hook, sitting on a frozen lake, waiting for the spring.

panglossian detritus extant

on the bus ride, their public conversation only consisted of four subjects; how much vicodin was ingested, video games, pornography, and the uncertain location of their stop. an older woman seemingly on her way home from work was obviously disgusted. earlier today the crack head showed up for work and then left an hour later, just enough time for her to publicly criticize my misspelling of the word 'drawer' and not accomplish much else. they all go on living, though i'm not sure exactly why.

generalized learned experiences

everything we do carries with it a million assumptions, many of which are wrong. we depend on them. correctly applied they can be major short cuts in life.

angry without food

"you have a way of viewing the world that i cannot understand," said one monkey to the other. and they laughed and laughed and laughed.

why we're fighting all the time

it made sense; she was totally corporate. all the reasons she loved him were bad ones and besides, he stole them all. some people are gifted at life and some people just fake it. it normally ends worse than we thought it could.

wasted quiet days in space

smells like a bubble bath and love.

for better or for worse

in general we're probably worse than we used to be. most psychological tests seem to be focused on tricking people. getting people to do things against their will to display flaws or irregularities to better understand how things work. mind control. constant tinkering and exploring. we are great observers, if only we knew how to better organize and make sense of these observations. labels and generalizations only give a vague representation of anything.

her thong was visible in her low cut pants, made of a fabric that begged to be touched. the kind of thing people only put on with expectations. so much time is wasted thinking of stupid things like this to write.

the sun shows for a minute or two at noon, but the bright light shines all night long.

Please wait while we upload your life...

she didn't realize it, but i was always just passing through. when i said, i love you, i didn't mean forever. and when i wished it to always be like that, i didn't really think it could. she might have, but throughout life i've tried to concern myself as little as possible with impractical expectations, however impossible to avoid. the most reputed paths in life seem to be those of tolerating torturesome states, while telling oneself they are on a path to impractical expectations. ironically, this mindset is the only chance one has of ever reaching these expectations, however impractical. more often people will fall short and more often they will go on living with lacadaisical justifications or none at all. it's easy to live, knowing whatever life you wanted wouldn't have worked out.

smile

she smiled then, a loose, clumsy smile, genuine, unpretty.

we either live a life too short or too long. more often too long in a world too flawed. as our lives go on this seems increasingly obvious. justifications are as empty as existence itself.

a nap partner

i don't think she would have loved me if she'd met me then, because of who i was and what i thought i wanted. she would have left me to become someone she might love, without ever having known it. i think i may have let her go as well, because of how i pictured love. on a movie screen, on a tv show, as a girl who never gets older than twenty and needs nothing more than to cave to my every desire. natalie portman, jennifer love hewitt, whoever. i saw enough of them, one of them was sure to have undying affection towards me. if only i could happen upon meeting her. then her flawless personality would mesh with mine like the most perfect of tanglings. but i never would meet her. and even if i did, love degrades like happiness, chaotic and unpredictable, yet always new or disappearing. i wasn't looking for someone i could lay down with and take naps with forever, but in the end that's all any of us get. someone to talk to and look at before and after naps.