Tuesday, June 21, 2011

I may not be cut out for this life...

I think that I may have latent talents that would emerge in a Zombie Infestation, an alien Invasion or in a post-apocalyptic future. I also think that my real-life skill-set would not be helpful at all because...

Zombies eat failed writers.
Aliens wouldn't want to meld with my brain.
And in a post apocalyptic future, going through old forgotten drafts on The Good Old Fat Free Milk Blog created in the year 2002 doesn't help hunger.

Even to the lactose-intolerant.

I want to meet...

Jane Goodall
Stephen king
The Dalai Lama
The REAL Panchen Lama
JJ Abrahms
Stephen King
Steve Niles
Ian MacKaye
Koko
The Rancor Keeper
Warren Ellis
Micheal Allred
Archie McPhee
Alan Moore
Terrence Malick
George Lucas and Jar Jar Binks
Dave Eggers
Harper Lee
Sigur Ros
The three remaining Doors
Ron Moore
Guillermo Del Toro
The Great Cthulhu
Deana Martin
My Grandfather(s)
John Lasseter
My Mother
Kevynn
Kevin
My C.H.U.D ASAP
Fat Free Milk in 2002 - NOW in 2022

Wednesday, June 08, 2011

Cần Thơ gạo trắng nước trong, Ai đi đến đó lòng không muốn về.

She describes being attracted to my father, whom she had met through acquaintances, because when she first saw him he was walking down the street, looking at the sky.

Friday, May 27, 2011

I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about not typing...

What little writing that I do now is for other people. In the last couple of years, I've written DJ bios, Blargh content, worked on other people's plays, student films, funeral rites, parking-ticket legalese, Vietnamese Pho Menus and Dr. Who action figure catalogues, etc.

I am a shitty writer. Really. A hack. But it sucks because I do the I-Am-A-Shitty-Writer-Really-A Hack-But-It-Sucks-Because-I-Do-The-I-Am-A-Shitty-Writer-Really-A-Hack-But-It-Sucks-Because-I-Do-The-I-Am-A-Shitty-Writer-Really-But-It-Sucks-Stuff.

Because...Shit, It's been a bit strange, Strangers.

I'm in my backyard right now. Typing on the laptop in the dark. Afraid of Avacados falling on my head. My head is tick-tocking back and forth like a Metronome. I want to get drunk and to put down every single, fucking, goddamn thing before it's too late.

It's not about the amount of hours passing and pissing away anymore
but
It's all about the amount of time not creating and writing about
What's here
and not anymore.

The bulk of my writing that I do now will be only for me.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Chess. Smoke. Poem. Soda Pop. Jeanette Walls. Smoke. Hulu/Nova.com = Sleestak-hissing sleep.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Fat Free Milk

Meet Me (1996 Notebook)

There's a sad song on
no one to read this
and only one person to write it

as long as I live
I will never give up
I'll still laugh
and even
in poverty and poetry
I'll still know more
and be
more aware of things
than all of you

I'm just waiting
and am tired
       of fighting
       the invisibles
that only I
       can see

Friday, April 15, 2011

Friday, April 01, 2011



I sailed a wild, wild sea
Climbed up a tall, tall mountain
I met a old, old man
Beneath a weeping willow tree
He said now if you got some questions
Go and lay them at my feet
But my time here is brief
So you'll have to pick just three

And I said
What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart
And how can a man like me remain in the light
And if life is really as short as they say
Then why is the night so long
And then the sun went down
And he sang for me this song

See I once was a young fool like you
Afraid to do the things
That I knew I had to do
So I played an escapade just like you
I played an escapade just like you
I sailed a wild, wild sea
Climbed up a tall, tall mountain
I met an old, old man
He sat beneath a sapling tree
He said now if you got some questions
Go and lay them at my feet
But my time here is brief
So you'll have to pick just three

And I said
What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart
And how can a man like me remain in the light
And if life is really as short as they say
Then why is the night so long
And then the sun went down
And he played for me this song

Friday, March 25, 2011

From the Desk of Terrence Malick.....


We trace the evolution of an eleven-year-old boy in the Midwest, Jack, one of three brothers. At first all seems marvelous to the child. He sees as his mother does with the eyes of his soul. She represents the way of love and mercy, where the father tries to teach his son the world’s way of putting oneself first. Each parent contends for his allegiance, and Jack must reconcile their claims. The picture darkens as he has his first glimpses of sickness, suffering and death. The world, once a thing of glory, becomes a labyrinth.
From this story is that of adult Jack, a lost soul in a modern world, seeking to discover amid the changing scenes of time that which does not change: the eternal scheme of which we are a part. When he sees all that has gone into our world’s preparation, each thing appears a miracle—precious, incomparable. Jack, with his new understanding, is able to forgive his father and take his first steps on the path of life.
The story ends in hope, acknowledging the beauty and joy in all things, in the everyday and above all in the family—our first school—the only place that most of us learn the truth about the world and ourselves, or discover life’s single most important lesson, of unselfish love.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Fringe

In an alternate reality, Alternate Me woke up at a respectable seven a.m. on a Tuesday morning. Alternate Me yawned, dismissed the alarm on his iPhiloticiAnsibleiPhone, shuffled to the bathroom and after Alternate Me was finished, Alternate Me washed his hands and smiled at himself in the mirror.

Alternate Me said to his own reflection, "Trying Are World The In People Smartest The."

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Apocalypse Meow

When the clouds get heavierdarkerthreatening
andirealizethati have to get out of here
and FAST
I will take my picturessomewaternicecomfortableshoes
and YOU
and iguessyourcat

Thursday, March 03, 2011

Transcript for Stephen Hawking asks big questions about the universe


There is nothing bigger or older than the universe. Your questions I would like to talk about are: One, where did we come from? How did the universe come into being? Are we alone in the universe? Is there alien life out there? What is the future of the human race?

Up until the 1920s, everyone thought the universe was essentially static and unchanging in time. Then it was discovered that the universe was expanding. Distant galaxies were moving away from us. This meant they must have been closer together in the past. If we extrapolate back, we find we must have all been on top of each other about 15 billion years ago. This was the Big Bang, the beginning of the universe.

But was there anything before the Big Bang? If not, what created the universe? Why did the universe emerge from the Big Bang the way it did? We used to think that the theory of the universe could be divided into two parts. First, there were the laws like Maxwell's equations and general relativity that determined the evolution of the universe, given its state over all of space at one time. And second, there was no question of the initial state of the universe.

We have made good progress on the first part, and now have the knowledge of the laws of evolution in all but the most extreme conditions. But until recently, we have had little idea about the initial conditions for the universe. However, this division into laws of evolution and initial conditions depends on time and space being separate and distinct. Under extreme conditions, general relativity and quantum theory allow time to behave like another dimension of space. This removes the distinction between time and space and means the laws of evolution can also determine the initial state. The universe can spontaneously create itself out of nothing.

Moreover, we can calculate a probability that the universe was created in different states. These predictions are in excellent agreement with observations by the WMAP satellite of the cosmic microwave background, which is an imprint of the very early universe. We think we have solved the mystery of creation. Maybe we should patent the universe and charge everyone royalties for their existence.

I now turn to the second big question: Are we alone, or is there other life in the universe? We believe that life arose spontaneously on the Earth, so it must be possible for life to appear on other suitable planets, of which there seem to be a large number in the galaxy.

But we don't know how life first appeared. We have two pieces of observational evidence on the probability of life appearing. The first is that we have fossils of algae from 3.5 billion years ago. The earth was formed 4.6 billion years ago and was probably too hot for about the first half billion years. So life appeared on earth within half a billion years of it being possible, which is short compared to the ten billion-year lifetime of a planet of Earth-type. This suggests that a probability of life appearing is reasonably high. If it was very low, one would have expected it to take most of the ten billion years available.

On the other hand, we don't seem to have been visited by aliens. I am discounting the reports of UFOs. Why would they appear only to cranks and weirdos? If there is a government conspiracy to suppress the reports and keep for itself the scientific knowledge the aliens bring, it seems to have been a singularly ineffective policy so far. Furthermore, despite an extensive search by the SETI project, we haven't heard any alien television quiz shows. This probably indicates that there are no alien civilizations at our stage of development within a radius of a few hundred light years. Issuing an insurance policy against abduction by aliens seems a pretty safe bet.

This brings me to the last of the big questions: The future of the human race. If we are the only intelligent beings in the galaxy, we should make sure we survive and continue. But we are entering an increasingly dangerous period of our history. Our population and our use of the finite resources of planet Earth are growing exponentially, along with our technical ability to change the environment for good or ill. But our genetic code still carries the selfish and aggressive instincts that were of survival advantage in the past. It will be difficult enough to avoid disaster in the next hundred years, let alone the next thousand or million.

Our only chance of long-term survival is not to remain lurking on planet Earth, but to spread out into space. The answers to these big questions show that we have made remarkable progress in the last hundred years. But if we want to continue beyond the next hundred years, our future is in space. That is why I am in favor of manned -- or should I say, personed space flight.

All of my life I have sought to understand the universe and find answers to these questions. I have been very lucky that my disability has not been a serious handicap; indeed, it has probably given me more time than most people to pursue the quest for knowledge. The ultimate goal is a complete theory of the universe, and we are making good progress. Thank you for listening.

Chris Anderson: Professor, if you had to guess either way, do you now believe that it is more likely than not that we are alone in the Milky Way, as a civilization of our level of intelligence or higher? This answer took seven minutes, and really gave me an insight into the incredible act of generosity this whole talk was for TED.

Stephen Hawking: I think it quite likely that we are the only civilization within several hundred light years; otherwise we would have heard radio waves. The alternative is that civilizations don't last very long, but destroy themselves. CA: Professor Hawking, thank you for that answer. We will take it as a salutary warning, I think, for the rest of our conference this week. Professor, we really thank you for the extraordinary effort you made to share your questions with us today. Thank you very much indeed.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

May your neighbors respect you, 
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you
And heaven accept you. 

Monday, February 21, 2011

Aye

I don't care that it's late. I'm not drunk. I was tired tonight and then I had energy and then I was tired and then I got very hungry and then I ate and then I got tired because I ate as much as I could and then work got me tired even more so and my mind hurt(ed) because what I do that pays the bills' :) hurts and hurts and hurts my heads' :) and my souls' :) and then The Deus Ex Machina Super-Duper/Future Scissors' :) come out and it cuts' :) out my spirits' :) and it doesn't bother to cut within the lines and then my sloppy spirits' :) is all-splayed out and like, you know, like, it's all sloppy and the the Elmers Glue Stick poops out from the edges and I get all, like embarrassed and stuff because if I'm going to let you peek at my private parts and then, like...

Then what?

Uuurgggghhhh. I've been doing teen angst for way too long.
Uuurgggghhhh. I've been doing adult angst for way too long.

I don't care that it's late.

So, what then?

I'm embarrassed about the stuff that I let you peek at and I'm embarrassed that I'm a sloppy writer and I'm embarrassed that this is one of the only conduits that I have left and I'm sorry that I'm a whiny writer and I apologetically apologize for (non)writing about my work, my energy, my mind on my money and my money on my minds' :)

I don't care that it's late.
I          care now.
I don't care.
It's late.
I care.
I don't.


Now what?

:)

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Free Milk Fat

I get a lot of spam on Fat Free Milk.

Don't even ask me what the search results are on Fat Free Milk.

Seriously, think about it...


Via search results? My keywords on Fat Free Milk are:

Fat
Free
and Milk

It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror... Horror has a face... and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Die Antwoord...

You know what sucks about writing whilst one of your Pandora Radio stations plays in the background?
You start to pound the keys and sometimes a song comes up that totally sucks ass.
So, you can either continue to pound away to shrilling Harpies or...

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

I don't know how to explain pkd/lights in corners/static/ghosts/etc/blargh/justaskme/Quartz Lane

http://www.scribd.com/doc/3230/Robert-Crumb-The-Religious-Experience-of-Philip-K-Dick

This is too big of a project for my mind to mine and to fathom...

I don't know if I can continue to put the puzzle fragments together...

It does involve characters in a movie that I dreamed for hours while I slept
replaying, rewinding, nostalgia, danger and bad elements that...god, I sound like a psycho...

I keep on remembering things and they piece together with other things that I've experienced and with things that Ive written before.

It really involves Philip K. Dick - which is FUCKED UP. Because....some of his biggest, craziest moments changed his life and affected stories that he wrote AND I lived down the street from where he used to live when I experienced a BIG thing in my life AND....I am so screwed...I don't know if I can write this - so far, so good, though....

Two nights of writing in a row. I'm excited for the dreams that I have tonight BUT scared, also..

What I'm going to write after I get off of this...I NEEDED TO TAKE A BREATHER....will put me in a crazier, creative state...

This is the weirdest thing that I've ever written....

and it ties into my life and the dreams that I had last night and PKD's experiences?

okay bye....writng....nnnnnnNOW

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

oink

I need to start writing regardless of how late it is.

It's better then nothing, eh?

Tomorrow I will read this and vow never to sling slop in this trough again.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010


the rain the rain the rain keeps pouring
and words keep spilling into my ears
and they are wet words
slippery, slimy things that my atrophied brain
doesn't want to absorb
HOWDOISTEMTHISFLOW?
this boring trickle
HOWDOISTEMTHISFLOW!
boringboringboring drops
all you
and not me
a reign a reign a reign of cattezz' and doggzez'
a drip and another drip always
flooding hope patience my will
i don't want to drown
to sail this vessel past the edge of The Earth
or to cast my sextet into the void, frustrated
i want warmth
shelter
security
and an empty ARK
so that I can sail a world anew
ALONEALONeALOneALoneAlonealone
and
ALONE
please

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Oh My.

Thank Gandalf. I got this back. It went away. bksafdjkbffasnmsaf,mnfsa

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

repost

My Best Christmas Ever...



Might of written about this before. I know that I have, but I think that it was in one of my notebooks. Maybe I wrote about it in a magazine or school paper. Somewhere.

Back in the day. When I was young. When the top of my head probably came to my fathers hip - my father and I went down the street to the Xmas tree lot. This was a REAL lot. One of the ones where you actually picked a tree and a bundled up gnarly neanderthalic man sawed it off for you and lugged it to your car. Not one of the drugstore parking lot lots. Something that you didn't do in combination with grocery shopping.

It was cold. But Southern California cold. So that means, like...60 degrees. My father and I had trudged deeper and deeper into this mini-forest looking for a nice, full tree to take home. I don't know where my older brother was. Probably playing Atari or watching football. Definitely not dating girls. My brother was a very late bloomer.

We found one. Not a girl or a late bloomer, but a great-looking tree off in the distance. Looked huge to me. Gigantic. As we approached it, I realized that my father wasn't around anymore. He was behind me, crouched down on one knee and had his hand placed on something by the ground. I crunched back to where my father was and heard him speaking in a strange voice. A tiny, soft voice. My father's eyes were misty. He had stepped on a baby rabbit. It was probably no bigger than my hand and was jerking spasmodiacally on a blanket of pine needles. My father was softly saying that he was sorry. I'm so sorry, so, so sorry...

I kept on looking back from the dying baby rabbit and to my father's now alien face. I couldn't figure out what was more of a shock to me - the little thing dying before me or the glimpse of actual emotion on my father's face.

My father eventually barked an order at me to KEEP ON GOING. I did, because he was my father. My father told me to not stop looking back. I did, because he was my father. I didn't ask any questions. I did, because he was my father.

We got our tree.

Do I remember how it looked that year in the livingroom?

No.

Do I still remember that tiny, twitching rabbit?

Yes. Perfectly.

Best Christmas ever?

Yes.

Why?

Because I'll remember that one for the rest of my life.
sleep
don't go out
ignore social gatherings and obligations
stay inside

see how this works out for you
I can hear your heart beating from here. And I can hear you breathing from there. And even if I'm not here with you tonight, I know where we'll be tomorrow. Together.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

laz e

Fuk. I relly dnt lik this com pumputer nd th smoeks all poring n my eys nd i guss its cld otside r at lest cld fr asouthern alifornia nd evn thogh tht ths sntnce wsnt tht gloriou it stll tk me mor tme t blw acros the thje kybrd. to blw ashs acrss this Mc kybord thet I fuckg hte. i'v wrien n prchmnt. imis cnieform. imis arrnging big St\nehenge bloks. i mis my CIA focallity. iam fuckng cazy andI am nts. I neeed t diee, aloonend wih mny petsz nd to b coverd wthvultre p]\ckings nd rdiation tht wll pngpingping pstumosly wi me nd yor grate gddamn granchildrn wen Richard Branson  n Octobabies r mining ore n th Virgin Moon.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 04, 2004



The Best Thing That I Did Today
Was The Worst Thing That I Could've Done...
Because Then - Everything Was Better After That...


I have a new wallet now. Strikes me funny that, in twenty-eight years, I think that this is only the second time that I've bought one myself. There were probably a couple before that, but they were probably fastened together with Velcro, so they don't count. I might've traded a friend one of my G.I. Joes for one of the wallets that I had before. And the one before this, was a Harley Davidson one that I bought in a biker shop in downtown Cincinnati when I was eighteen. It had a long chain on it. I thought it was cool. And it helped prevent people from stealing it while I tried to sleep on the Greyhound bus too.

Dude, yes - I am getting older...nothing makes an old dog sniff the aging air more than perusing wallets in Target because your old one's on its last thread. I cheaped out and bought it at Target. Do you have Target where you live? It's like the west coast equivalent of your Wal-Mart. Except without the guns. And the old people greeting you. We do have Wal-Mart here though. Don't get me wrong. We have a lot here that you do too. Except White Castles...maybe that's a good thing. But...

Buying a new wallet made me feel ancient. Car lots, buying booze, lap dances, work clothes, ordering for your date, having kids call you SIR...none of this makes you feel as dusty as buying a wallet by yourself. I don't know why, but it does. I also bought some plain, white t-shirts, socks, light bulbs, Cokes, and picture frames. That's old too. But I did spend a lot of time agonizing over whether to buy more Star Wars figures - so that doesn't make me a gray ol' man yet, does it?

If I could've stopped any part of the day today, it would've been the part where I woke up, and if I could've sped up a part of the day it would've been the part that I'm at now. Stretch it to the limit. See what happens in the end before you fall asleep and have to return it the next day to avoid late fees.

I think that I just figured out the law of nature, kids. We have to hunt down all of the cats, let the dogs fight it out amongst themselves and let the monkeys be monkeys. Everything else can be bugs and insects. That sounds good to me.

I'm scared of the snail's pace in the world's race. I remember how cute and sad my little sister was, all at once, when she was young. She used to construct little dollhouses for the numerous snails that used to inhabit our front and backyard bushes. My father eventually found out and made her move her sticky cardboard and miniature plastic furniture mansion outside in the front by the doorbell. One day, as I was getting ready for school, she ran up to me crying. I followed her outside and looked towards the direction that she was pointing at with her tiny little fingers. Cardboard snail shelter intact, but myriad shiny snail trails leading from her house, over the walls, and back into the bushes.

Sad for little girls. A relief for fathers. Freedom for fast-moving snails in the night. It must've been some operation for them under the cover of hushed darkness. I bet they ran real fast. She was only slowing them down.

Little sister's all grown up now, trying to build her own house. While I feel like one of her snails. Except the walls are bigger for me and I can't figure out which way to go. Would you look for me if I left a phosphorescent trail for you? Would you try to retrieve me like she did? Would you try to replace me with another or just forget about me and move on to something bigger?

I like my new wallet. It's nicer. Sleeker. Slimmer. Kind of like how I am now in my older age. I liked only filling in the new wallet with the bare essentials and chucking out the pack rat paranoiac feeling that I-cant–throw-this-away-because-I-think-that-I-might-need-it-in-an-emergency. I like feeling that if an emergency came up and if I needed a number or a scrap of paper that I'd survive and that I should just chill and that none of this stuff comes up anyway, and that if I really needed it - then I could get it - and if I couldn't? Then fuck it. My mind keeps on telling me to get jumper cables for my car, but I still haven't gotten those yet, though - have I? So why worry about having a certain business card? Yes. Why?

Oh...everything's fine. This is part of the reason why I turn nonsense letters into nonsense sentences. This is how I've always been. All questions with, maybe, a different answer every second. Every second breeds more questions - all you're trying to do is catch up. You forget most of it by the time that you wake up the next day - and then...shake...stir...repeat process.

Looking at the long list of ingredients to the package of Pringles that I brought home for my girlfriend makes me depressed. Looking at the cigar to my right doesn't. Uh-huh. Yeah. Hypocrite. I spent all of my day working at a job that I hate doing, now that I should be sleeping at three in the morning - I finally feel alive. Love the girlfriend and can't wait to spend time with her - but now that she's asleep in the next room - I feel alive. Feeling like, I think, the person that she fell in love with. The person at work all day doesn't exist. He's just a gossamer image of me now. Tonight's ME can totally kick today's ME's ass.

I'm getting better and better each day…I hope. I need a little fast and a little slow snail pace. I need what I need based on my schedule. I need you to listen to me. I need to listen to myself. I need to be young and old all in the same moment. I need sleep and I need to wake up. I want you to kiss me and I want you to leave me alone. I need more time and I've used all of mine up. I need to keep drinking and I need to sober up. I need to start running harder. I only want to float. I can' t watch. My eyes won't close. I should stop writing...

But I can't shut up...

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

When
We
Are
US
y'know?
You and me?
We
Are
Kind of
Sorta
Goddamn cool.
Cool!
Goddamn!
Right?
Sorta.
Kind of.
Right?
Are we...me and you...
y'know...
are we -

kindofsortagoddamncool
youandme
wesortakindaare

y'know?

RIGHT?

DRAFT

and when I'm not trying to prove that my life makes sense
and to not be the stuff of Sleepy Hollow legends
I
learn, learn, learn - about CCD 2011, Reindeer/Caribou/Rachel Reis/Mirah/The Hoover Dam/Air Force 1/The House/Senate/Migratory patterns/Patience/Ghosts/Warren Ellis/Lisa Hannigan/Ollabelle/Love/Chemtrails/The Panchen Lama/Factory farming/Nelson Riddle/Sewing/Tom Stoppard/Bokanovsky's Process/Bokonoism/Rachel OG/S.M. Stirling/Mayans/Jesca Hoop/Hands held/Tesla formulas/Smiles/Fat Man and Little Boy/
I try too much
and now I'm trying to prove that life makes sense
and I've learned to be humble/patient and like WATER
to be so much better then before
I
want to not to speel check my actions
and to Mirriam Webster/iPhone app my heart ALWAYAS

Saturday, October 02, 2010

I am the best that I've ever been
I've had glacial progression
and tsunamic moments of clarity
1
2
3
go H20
now!

Thursday, September 30, 2010

aspacecadet

explorer Ostrich
with his head in the ground
an insect
trapped in amber
until you release me
from
wonder
fear
and from being stuck
in the past

Friday, September 17, 2010

I come from the future...

Back then we used to write about
Cat Stevens and Sufjan Stevens
factory farming and sustainable agriculture
time in a bottle and
howdoesonemakethat?
tinyworkerscontributing
connectingsynapses
stringsandmemorythings
tobecherished
andputonpedestals
andputonshelves
andthensoldyearslater@estatesales
nowiwriteaboutmyself

Thursday, September 02, 2010


I have not written too much lately. I've been distracted. Dealing with things. Overworked and under-stimulated. Part of me didn't miss the writing. I don't miss freelance jobs. I don't miss writing about your DJ's, your magazine, your company or helping to write your screenplay, script, proposal, etc. What I do miss is writing on a front porch, drinking cigarettes and smoking beers furiously. I miss writing things that aren't for anything and that will go nowhere...but here.

God bless this blog.
My head today?

Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earheart had a baby.

Cloud fury.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

This Year... (sort of)


i died
got better
and then got betterbetter
got creative (sort of)
got comfortable (sort of)
tried (sort of)
and feel now
like getting better
all of the time
with practice
and consistency (all of the time)
with LIVING (all of the time)
this year (and NEXT year)

Hermes...



You don't have a pen that I can write with and no paper to write upon with the pen that I don't have. I wanted to make a Facebook status update in regards to how happy I am at the moment but I didn't want to get responses back via my phone. It's set to high volume because we have to wake up in the morning and I want you to sleep. Your neighbors are noisy but they're getting quieter as their drunken tide starts to grab and grab at their LOUDNESS. I can imagine a cop not giving a shit when I call - neighbor.noisy.need sleep.


I think you're good. Sleeping soundly. I'm here. It's nice to type on something that works. I've missed writing. I promise to give you everything that you want and please don't hate me if sometimes I excuse myself and try to give myself a little bit of everything that I want...besides what I have with you.

Wednesday, August 04, 2010

22

and i like you and i think that there's something in my drink and I'm okay with that
i want you to be okay and for you to like me
and damn, it takes so much work to be a better person
i never was before
i never was a bad tyke
LIES
but
i never knew what it felt like to grow up
and i
want to grow up even more now
and i
want to like me and for you to be okay
and i like you
and i think that there's something in this life
and I'm okay with that

and damn, it takes so much time
and I'm okay with that

24



I just erased what I wrote
it wasn't bad
it just wasn't good enough
for you
maybe
just roll
with what little I can give
to you
right now
it may
get better
for us both

and if not
then we'll BOTH
get rid of this






Monday, July 26, 2010

25

I've been fiddling around with this stupid computer since i got home
to a house filled with autistic children, pooping cats and ticking clocks
not really
I'm just staring
right here
it's white before me
stupid technology
failed mechanics
another failed
writing night

Friday, July 02, 2010

26

Can you hear it?
Shhh...LISTEN - just shut up for a second.
Can you NOW?

Yeah...It's nice isn't it?

Monday, June 28, 2010

27

and i thank you
for everything
and thank you for all of the love
and the friendship
and the care
and your constant hugs
all of you
are amazingly patient
i keep on running and
you're always right beside me
when i bother to look

and i thank you

Monday, June 21, 2010

29

We're learning as we go
Learning as you go
You're learning as I go...

30

I saw a play by myself on Saturday
I read two reviews about it for weeks
so i bought the ticket in bed the night before
credit card in hand
I've realized that i need to continue doing things
that i like
that don't involve anybody else
even though
DUDE
I totally want all of you in my life
but...you aren't
I saw the play
ninety minutes
with an actress by my shoulder in a theater of twenty people
so close
I smoked a couple of cigarettes afterwards
not looking for a party
or to cement my theatric experience
I said hi to a couple of people that I knew and
excused myself
because I was hungry
and because sometimes I don't know
what to do with myself


Ummmm...and that's it.


Quiet night. Stupid poem.

32

It took me 15 solid minutes
to fix the sliding glass door in my room
that I haven't been able to open for the last 6 months
and now
these last 20 minutes
since I've opened
my sliding glass door
feels like
a face-buffeting hurricane of FUCKING AMAZING.

Thursday, June 03, 2010

The best savings...

Everything is expensive
but getting me out of the house
to me?
is PRICELESS

Thursday, May 20, 2010

MIỄN PHÍ CHẤT BÉO SỮA ......

I AM CỦA TANZANIA KHỈ GOODALL JANE GÕ VỀ CHUỐI. MY. NGÓN TAY LÀ SANTA BÉ CỦA NHỮNG NGƯỜI GIÚP ĐỠ HY VỌNG CỦA TÔI LÀ MỘT LƯỢNG MƯA LẺ TẺ - NÀO ĐƯỢC NÊU RA MỘT CƠN MƯA XỐI XẢ TRÚT TRONG TẤT CẢ CÁC MÔI TRƯỜNG SÁNG TẠO. I AM THESEUS, UNSPOOLING SỢI VÀNG,. SISYPHUS RA MỒ HÔI KHÓ KHĂN. BUKOWSKI, SCRIBBLING ĐI THUÊ NHÀ Ở.. MỘT DÒNG SÔNG LUÔN LUÔN CHẢY TÔI LÀ CƠN ÁC MỘNG CỦA SỰ ĐÌNH TRỆ VÀ THẦN CỦA TRÍ TƯỞNG TƯỢNG. KHÔNG THỰC SỰ ... TÔI CHỈ THẤY MỆT MỎI VÀ ĐẦY ĐỦ CỦA POO ..

He spent hours assembling his spacesuit




yet forgot to put on a pair of clean underwear
to put in his contact lenses
and to send his last will and testament via Ansible
His socks had holes in them
he had forgotten to update his Virgo Supercluster of galaxies Facebook status
totally spaced paying his monthly bill to the House Atreides
and slowly smacked his space helmet in zero-gravity frustration
when he realized that he forgot to take out the trash to the Dianoga compactor
The stars still looked pretty, though
and he swore to do all of these things 
when he got back
or maybe soon
maybe...tomorrow.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Toys and books arrive in the mail and you don"t remember ordering them because you were drunk.

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

A Journey - By Edward Field

When he got up that morning everything was different:
He enjoyed the bright spring day
But he did not realize it exactly, he just enjoyed it.

And walking down the street to the railroad station
Past magnolia trees with dying flowers like old socks
It was a long time since he had breathed so simply.

Tears filled his eyes and it felt good
But he held them back
Because men didn't walk around crying in that town.

Waiting on the platform at the station
The fear came over him of something terrible about to happen:
The train was late and he recited the alphabet to keep hold.

And in its time it came screeching in
And as it went on making its usual stops,
People coming and going, telephone poles passing,

He hid his head behind a newspaper
No longer able to hold back the sobs, and willed his eyes
To follow the rational weavings of the seat fabric.

He didn't do anything violent as he had imagined.

He cried for a long time, but when he finally quieted down
A place in him that had been closed like a fist was open,

And at the end of the ride he stood up and got off that train:
And through the streets and in all the places he lived in later on
He walked, himself at last, a man among men,
With such radiance that everyone looked up and wondered.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

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

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

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



Monday, March 08, 2010

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.



Thursday, February 25, 2010

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)

Friday, January 01, 2010

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.

Monday, December 14, 2009

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.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

repost 2007

Egg...

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

Thursday, November 26, 2009

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

Friday, November 13, 2009

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

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

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

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.

image
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

Thursday, October 22, 2009

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.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Dumping ground

from my p k d tour 2009
to
the buddhist temples
to
my r w a

needs to be done

these are notes to myself

and not for you

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

Saturday, September 26, 2009

bis vincit qui se vincit in victoria



He conquers twice who conquers himself in victory

im the guy

right now

writing about things to write

my soul is the Earth’s sun 8 million years from now

and my heart is chum, constantly thrown into oceans

jotting down ideas

and always writing about writing

and my writing

always takes a lot of rewriting

i’m so tired

and so ready

to cultivate the paddy fields of your mind

mine your ore

and excavate your precious resources

i am big business

when not writing about not writing

you’ll never see my greatest moments

and if you do?

then I’ll see it first

because,

im the guy

right now

writing

trying

Friday, September 25, 2009

Kevynn Malone

If You Were To Die Right Now, How Would You Feel About Your Life?

Tyler Durden just said that. I asked Tyler what he was doing in my living room and he punched me in the face and told me to stop asking sissy questions. I spit out a tooth and said that I wished that he'd blow up all of the credit card company buildings in real life like he did in Fight Club, I could benefit from a little Project Mayhem to eradicate my credit history. Then he kicked me in the eye with his boot heel and said, Kevynn, you have a class of young strong men and women, and they want to give their lives to something. Advertising has these people chasing cars and clothes they don't need. Generations have been working in jobs they hate, just so they can buy what they don't really need. We don't have a great war in our generation, or a great depression, but we do, we have a great war of the spirit. We have a great revolution against the culture. The great depression is our lives. We have a spiritual depression. We have to show these men and women freedom by enslaving them, and show them courage by frightening them. I told him that he was scaring me, and then he grabbed me by the balls and dragged me into a corner of the room.

Right about that time - Charles Bukowski came into the room. He just walked on in, downed a can of Schlitz, crumpled it, and threw it towards the corner that Tyler and I were in. It bounced off of Tyler's shaven head, and I thought that Tyler was going to beat him up, but Tyler just smiled, swatted Buk on the back as he walked on by, told him that he was a big fan, and that he loved Post Office, and then left.

I could hear noise coming from the fridge, and groaningly got up. Buk was already polishing off one of my beers. He stripped down to his boxers and asked me where all the goddamn real booze was. I told him that was all I had, and that did he really believe in a god? He grabbed another one of my beers, kicked off his shoes, and said, I have more faith in my plumber than I do the eternal being. Plumbers do a good job. They keep the shit flowing…and then he disappeared into my bathroom.

I shuffled over to the phone and was about to call 911, when there was a knock at the door. I didn't want to answer it, so I peeped through the peephole. It was Frank Sinatra. Shit, it was Frank - so I opened the door. He looked great. Sharp. His pinky rings twinkled in the moonlight. I invited him in. He grabbed a seat by my fireplace and asked me how my bird was. I told him that I didn't have any pets, except for a bunch of cats. He rolled his eyes and said, no, man - how's your bird and pointed to my crotch. That confused the hell out of me. Why was Frank Sinatra asking about my dick? So, I just told him that my bird was flying around. That seemed to please him immensely. I relaxed a little. Frank was pleased. I was pleased. Maybe Frank could swing me a room in Vegas? Bukowski came out and stank up the whole place. He grabbed another one of my beers and then sat down at my computer. All of my cats instantly congregated around his feet and purred. He asked if I had any decent classical music in the place. I looked at Frank. He nodded slightly, and I tuned the radio to a station that Buk seemed to not mind. Frank asked me how everything else was goin'. I said that I guess that everything else was okay, nothing that exciting. He said that it was good to not be one of those complicated, mixed-up cats looking for the secret to life… just to go on from day to day, and to take what comes…

That seemed to make sense to me. I politely excused myself and told Frank that I thought that I needed to spit out a couple more teeth; did he want me to pick him up some stuff for martinis, or get him some whisky? He told me that he was okay for now, he was waiting for Ava. I got the feeling that he'd be there for a long time, and I left out through the front door to wiggle my loose teeth around. Tyler was in the parking lot of the park across the street, fighting somebody. I didn't want to attract his attention because I was afraid he'd tell me to duke it out with a Puerto Rican busboy. But I ended up walking over to him. Something was bugging me. I needed to tell him something.

He just got finished, and was wiping blood out of his eyes with the heel of his palms.

What do you want, Malone?
You want me to take you shopping or something?
Do you want me to politely ask the world to get off your back?
Are you finally sick of your life?
Are you ready to sacrifice everything
to become the type of person that you're supposed to be?

No, not really, Tyler. I just wanted to answer your question.

What fucking question, Malone?

"If you were to die right now, how would you feel about your life?"

Yeah…and...?

I'd feel fine.
I guess I should go out and do something. I just put down the book. I've flaked on two things tonight - an engagement dinner and meeting some out-of-town friends for a different dinner. I think I'm also supposed to hang out with two other people but I don't really remember how my conversations went with them because I have a horrible memory and I tend to drink too little. Why do I do this? I Gollum myself in my dark room, feeling miserable at times and at other times, I'm oh-so-fucking happy and loving my life and biting into my raw fish.

I'm going to get ready now, out of guilt more than anything else. I'll be thinking about my book though and of this quiet room and then when I'm all done, when all of the conversations, laughter, hugs and drinks are all doneanddone - I'll be right back where I was when I was typing this...

In this room
precious womb

Thursday, September 24, 2009



drink up, baby, stay up all night
the things you could do, you won't but you might
the potential you'll be, that you'll never see
the promises you'll only make

drink up with me now and forget all about the pressure of days
do what I say and I'll make you okay and drive them away
the images stuck in your head

people you've been before that you don't want around anymore
that push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

drink up, baby, look at the stars
I'll kiss you again between the bars where I'm seeing you
there with your hands in the air, waiting to finally be caught

drink up one more time and I'll make you mine
keep you apart deep in my heart separate from the rest
where I like you the best and keep the things you forgot

the people you've been before that you don't want around anymore
that push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still


Your sorry eyes, they cut through bone.
They make it hard to leave you alone.
Leave you here wearing your wounds
Waving your guns at somebody new.

Baby Im a lost
Baby Im a lost
Baby Im a lost cause.

Theres too many people you used to know
They see you coming they see you go.
They know your secrets and you know theirs
This town is crazy, but nobody cares.

Baby Im a lost
Baby Im a lost
Baby Im a lost cause.
Im tired of fighting
Im tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause

Theres a place where you are going
You aint never been before
Theres no one laughing at your back now
No one standing at your door
Is that what you thought love was for?

Baby Im a lost
Baby Im a lost
Baby Im a lost cause
Im tired of fighting
Im tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause.

Monday, September 21, 2009

ido



I don't care if I'm up too late
I don't care about what I'm eating
I may be hedonistic
shallow
abusive
not motivated
I make mistakes
I'm compulsive
I'm weak
I won't be a good father
or a good mate, mate
I may not be the droid you're looking for

I may be Voltron in reverse
onebigROBOTseperatedinmanypieces
I may be totally stupid and full of shit
I don't think so, though...

I may be writing on the interweb
about personal stuff
ithink
ido
really
likemylife
finally

ido
really

I don't care if I'm up too late

He who tries to forget a woman, never loved her...

Which one are you?

The one I miss now?

Or the one I loved before?








reposted! :)

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

posumeezeemsgoogleplex

I'm not insane.

Just yelling at them to not eat Marcel's food.
One almost came into my room the other night...

DUDE!

This kid is back AGAIN!

I JUSTJUST yelled at him, like...WHAT? 15 seconds ago?

I can always tell if it's an Opossum because of the sound of the way that they eat and the way that the food grinds against their teeth.

I don't hate them.

It just gives me something to do, to be honest.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Blue Lion.

You wanted an avalanche of progress and not the glacier-like reality

Monday, September 07, 2009

Green Lion.

On the front porch watching the sprinklers. It reminds me of childhood...except that I'm not trying to hump bedposts and basketball poles.

Yellow Lion.

The only phone call that I got today was from an older Italian gal that comes into my work. She's really sweet. I didn't pick up the phone because I hate long conversations. She was wondering and hoping if I got enough sleep today after my horrible night last night and I did get a lot of sleep. I almost got up early but then thought to myself...ehhhh, what's the point? I do this everyday but today especially because it's Labor Day.

Wheeee!!!!

The house is quiet today and I'm peckingly watching snippets of Band of Brothers on TV - which is depressing. I never turn the thing on. I was actually considering playing a video game but I play the things once every five months or so. Now that I think about it....what do I do? I work, I stay up late and fuck around on the computer, I hang out late with Patrick and walk, rarely jog and sometimes drive around a bit?

I want to dodge bullets. I want to teach a child how to spit properly. I want to learn how to make flaming arrows. I want you to play the piano while I sing. I want to go skydiving again. I want you to take me to an arcade and the batting cages. I want to write a story with you. I want a puppy. I want to go camping. I want you to buy me a bunch of paint and for you to give me a big canvas. I want to go to another bug fair. I want to watch chimpanzees look at me looking at them look at me. I want to play the Star Wars Drinking Game. I want you to beat me in chess and to punch me in the chest.

The house is quiet today.

Red Lion.

Beezus Christ - I'm still here. Still not writing, still talking about not writing when I'm writing and still not writing the things that I should be writing.