Testing some nerdy nerdinessssssss

there is an alien spacecraft hidden in a hangar in Roswell

and a fountain of youth to be found somewhere on this desk
amongst the forgotten bills, Astromech Droids, toothpick sculptures, 
old hospital wristbands, office supplies, tissues, packets of chewing gum, 
crossword puzzles, scratched CDs, Flarp, Dewbacks, Empty Redbull cans,
old phones, candy, mice, DVDs, notebooks, shoes, socks, newspapers, 
magazines, to-do-lists, regrets, scattered pictures, electrical cords,
grocery store receipts, drumsticks, shoes, hot sauce packets, hats,
plastic masks, bathroom towels, drawings, scribblings, smatterings,
all thoughts-not-necessarily-Earth-shattering, envelopes, cigars,
paper clips, keychains, Pez dispensers, dust bunnies, books,
tears, socks, incense sticks, various silverware, mason jars,
water bottles, chocolate, guitars, crayons, mistakes,
paintings, peanut shells, Red Rum,
Clown piggy banks, Jesus puzzles,
fifty-cent bouncy balls, scotch tape,
walking canes and discarded nipple rings.


maybe
a glaring truth
of a misspent youth


to be found somewhere on this desk

Man, th lv tht i got
whn my insidsxplded
in thrty mnts
whn i wsz in th hzptl bd
and iwz n mrphne
and iwz s scrd
i gz m nt so malone

whr wru bfr idied?

Where were you before I died?
while my insides were imploding

i died and you missed it
again

Settlement....

Somebody took out my appendix last week. I guess it burst. This last week hurt. Friday a doctor unspooled a tube out of my gut. He said that it would feel weird. It did. I decided to work last night because I am badass. I decided to work last night because I am poor. The ten hours that I worked last night is a testament to my veracity, tenacity, and my pugnaciousness...

Kidding. Really. My insides exploded. It sucked. Random. 

I don't know anything.

Weird shit happens to me.

Meows and Growls...

God(s) bless you
I'll say it to you
before you sneeze

I've been missing my old life for two and a half years
My new life - I haven't been missing for two and a half years

God(s) bless you, darling
I'll say it to you
two and a half years later


Please, somebody bless this mess
two
and a half years
too late(r)

youscreamiscreamweallscream4....

I just got excited. I heard a car coming up but it was the paperboy/man. Thappp! Newspaper delivered to the neighbors. NOW, I'm lonely.

Sound off.

Keep this or not?

I need to practice this a bit more, me thinks. I've given up on writing pretty much. I don't do much personal writing lately and all of the freelance work is funneling, counter-clockwise down my motivational toilet and I'm fine with it. So this works. I never thought I was that great anyway. I write like I speak. Like Yoda with Strep Throat. Like Marlee Matlin drunk. Like Jabba without Bib Fortuna. Like...fershure.

I'm So Tired.......

repost 2007

Egg...

Everything that I wished for before I now have
and everything I now have is nothing compared to what I had.

Clean room and kitchen
check movie times
call family
text friendos
drink

This is how it works

It feels a little worse
Than when we drove our hearse
Right through that screaming crowd
While laughing up a storm
Until we were just bone
Until it got so warm
That none of us could sleep
And all the styrofoam
Began to melt away
We tried to find some worms
To aid in the decay
But none of them were home
Inside their catacomb
A million ancient bees
Began to sting our knees
While we were on our knees
Praying that disease
Would leave the ones we love
And never come again

On the radio
We heard November Rain
That solo's really long
But it's a pretty song
We listened to it twice
'Cause the DJ was asleep

This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again

And on the radio
You hear November Rain
That solo's awful long
But it's a good refrain
You listen to it twice
'Cause the DJ is asleep
On the radio
(oh oh oh)
On the radio
On the radio - uh oh
On the radio - uh oh
On the radio - uh oh
On the radio

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()() = @ ()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

I'm going to let my fingertips guide this
but my mind has already decided where this will go
I'm clearing my throat
I do this a lot now
I try to focus
fingertipstypeonmy4head
thinking
waitforitwaitforit
i spend so much time doing something that I hate
my mind numbs
i go home
and spend so many hours searching for things
exposing/illuminating myself to so much
information
i have learned
so much
after
work

Thank you SO MUCH, Mystery Box...............REALLY.

"There flooded in the perception of something in the sky. I wasn’t on LSD or any other drug, not at the time; just this deprivation of the sense of other living things about me. What I saw was some form of evil deity…not living but functioning; not looking so much as scanning, like a machine or monitor. It had slotted eyes and always hung over one particular spot. I’ve used it for the title of my next-but-one story, A Scanner Darkly.

I don't know how much beauty I can stuff into my head anymore...I can't keep track of it all. I have to make lists of my lists and I'm electric and listless...SOMEDAY, I will miss this.

It all kinda started at Christmas when my sons and I were hanging ornaments on the tree.  We have an ornament that is a little electric guitar and my six-year-old son was looking at it and asked, “What’s this Dad?”
I said, “What??? It’s an electric guitar.”
To which he replied, “What’s that?”
Well, I was kinda horrified so I ran downstairs and pulled out an old hollowbody electric (that is my wife’s), an amp and I came upstairs, plugged it in and ripped into “My Generation” by The Who. Well, my one son actually climbed me in point 2 seconds and leaped off my shoulders while the other one looked like I had plugged the lights on the tree into him. They flew around the room dancing for two straight wonderful hours. I got the point. I grew up playing only electric and it was like remembering how to be free. For many reasons, it was so needed. So I got free.
The next week I headed into my studio and recorded “City Of Ghosts” and away I went. I wrote about the war and being a parent in “The Field”, two topics close to my heart. I wrote about being a teenager and how heavy that time can feel and how it can shape the path you take. So, gratitude is in there somewhere. I wrote about doubts and fear, about God and Spirit, and about hope and possibility and things that are elusive and hard to name. I wrote mostly about them, and they came into the room like angels and beasts.
This whole time I knew the record would be called Blood Of Man. I also kept hearing two phrases in my head during recording. Maybe you can decipher them, for I know not where they come from or what they mean exactly: “Do you remember when the world was young?” and “In the beginning there was blood on the lamb.” Whew.
I wrote about how hard it is to be 34 and be a parent and sane and married and true and positive and yourself and a man and funny and a decent person and a not decent person and human and in love. I turned the music up so loud so often that my ears rang every night. I wrote about death, of course. I wrote about life. I wrote about pain and addiction. And I let it flow and left it raw. I worked fast and I let my heart lead.
I guess I have come to the point in my life and my art where I just want to make music that I love and not mess with it. If people dig it: cool. If not: cool. I will be making it anyway. I have to. I realized that too. By the grace of god: I have to make music. More importantly: I get to.
Also, before anything, I am a music listener. So, this record has not been messed with in any way. What you have is exactly the music I listen to in my van and the way I have given it to my friends on CD-Rs. My hope is that it can help where help is needed. Music saved my life and I am so grateful for it. Thank you for listening. Rock.
Mason Jennings
Minnesota

wakeup, kiddo

and he lost it for a bit - maybe for a loooooong time
maybe he didn't know what he was doing
maybe he now knows a little bit more than before
but still wishes for more back then
and maybe he needs to practice getting up everyday
and needs to create new reasons to do so
he is not pretty
and life can be quite ugly at times
and this is crap
but it is what it is
and it looks all blocky and weird and bad writing-y
but he likes it
at least for now
he will never get awards or praise for his writing
he's a bit better at making you laugh when you're getting a drink
and don't tell me to smile
because when you see me, I'm not sad
I'm just not an extension of your fun that night
I want to take away Kyle's pain this Friday because of his break up
I want to be a good friend and to be better at it
I need to buy black pajamas for my Halloween outfit tomorrow
and am excited to pass out candy to the neighborhood kids
I'm still excited about that commercial that I'm going to be in
and want to visit you in Austin, Santa Maria, SF, Orlando, Baltimore, New Ringold, Brooklyn, McAllen, Baltimore, Downtown L.A. and in the year 1971, 1865 and 1993
he doesn't get it and never did
he was pedaling a bike with no tires
and searching for gold on Mars
wakeup, kiddo

before it goes
before you can't catch up with the rest of the crowd
and the donkeys refuse your carrots
and before you run out of things to say

he needs to
wakeup, kiddo
he needs to
wakeup, kiddo

Ahhh...

But bad poetry can sometimes be GOOD poetry, can't it?

but

Not TONIGHT.