Death in Eyesight

Women and Mortality

2011-03-12T23:19:00.000-08:00

Between Women and mortality I am probably one of the more confused people right now.

I honestly don't understand either of these things.

We all die, but its a horrible thing to think about and hear in the news.

We all want to get laid but at times we're picky about who, when, and why.

We read about people dying and think nothing of it.

We flirt and try to impress people we would never want to reproduce with.

Our minds are bad, or at least mine is.

I cry when I read about tragedies.

But I hope for nothing when I go out on dates.

Irony

2011-01-25T23:16:00.000-08:00

Why do I worry? It is because of her. Because of her I have to think about everything I do, everything I say everywhere I go. This is not pleasant. I remember when I always thought of her, but that was for the joy of life. I wanted to see her everywhere I went. But this is long vanished. I feel like I am torturing myself at this point, I have no reason to feel like this but I do. Is this horrible feeling love?

Logan, you need to let go. Live in the now. Smile, laugh, joke. It is your only life you need to enjoy it.

Try to let go

2011-01-08T21:17:00.000-08:00

My head is a mess, there are two up there, at least. I think one time I counted as many as three. If I talk to myself they start talking back. I am not entirely sure if thise is normal or if it is really even happening. Perhaps I just think rather quickly and its all just one voice. But that doesn't explain the arguements I have with myself.

I know I have two different thought processes. There is one that wants to believe, thinks of fairies and dragons and magical places perhaps in the stars, places where I can be the hero and wander as a perfectly acceptable profession. And the other is on earth, probably working. constantly reminding me that the other doesn't exist and that the only way to get ahead in life is by hard work. The fact that the first process is still around says something about my true inner feelings.

Feelings are another thing. Infact I don't much feel like getting into those right now. Infact I don't think I could if I tried. Creatively I feel lacking as of the last several months, this disappoints me, the fairies are leaving me to my own cage of a mind.

Sometimes I feel like screaming.

I always want to run away.

Lonliness may be normal.

Bluh

2011-01-05T19:46:00.000-08:00

There was this litle thing that happened today, it was small and quiet insignificant, but for the last two hours it has gotten me to wondering. I really have no idea what it was besides for maybe a piece of sunshine split open my head and reminded me that i did need to be around. Or perhaps it was the cracks on the sidewalk listen to my footsteps wondering if I needed help. Other things it could have been are, ancient vikings trying to find a good cup of mead, or speck of dust attemping to sprout into a full size llama. My hands are getting tired.

Frozen

2010-12-31T23:32:00.000-08:00

The wind scrubs the sidewalk as the street lights bleach it. Only with that contrast do I notice how dark my heart has become. The ice is in my veins and I care not about cold. The crystals make up an elaborate design to distract while you slip. Laying on the ground, concussion in full force, it steals from you; life, your warmth, your blood, frozen into something that will not return.

My fingers are frozen now, yet that does not bother the unfeeling. My blood is thickening, although it still flows. My heart is darkening, but that is for a different reason.

The street lights bleach the sidewalks that hide the ice. And that is the contrast I need.

I am not the person I once was

2010-11-25T18:37:00.000-08:00

I had an especially odd feeling today, the feeling of change.

Some times we take for granted living in the now, living in a state of mind that we don't think about the past and we ignore what is happening.

Two years ago I crashed a car, one year ago I was getting ready to board a flight for New Zealand. This year I'm just sitting here having a relatively unmemorable holiday.

I am so far away from where I was the last two years, as a person I have changed immensely and can look back at some of the decisions I made and make better ones today.

I've also been dating myself. It seems like everyday I'm picking up a shirt or seeing a Friend and thinking "I've had this shirt since High school, it 7 years old." or "We've known each other since middle school, that's like 10 years." Its odd to think about how fast all this time has gone by. Back in school if I would have heard 10 years from now I'd be drinking beer with so and so, I would have chuckled and said yeah, okay, how far away that is. But in all reality its not that far off, and in 10 years i hope to be drinking beer with the same person.

Change and time are both rather interesting things.

Fatigue

2010-11-23T23:56:00.000-08:00

Fatigue.
This feeling was once loved of me, I felt like I was so close to being invincible just by being tired.
I can't do it anymore, it gets late and my eyes start to sink, I can feel sleep knocking and I know that would be nice to answer.

Perhaps I have no more good reasons to be awake, to keep myself going.
I don't know I could make a lot of bad connections to this, but for the time being I think I will just fade off to sleep.

The buildings that we call poems.

2010-11-20T14:59:00.000-08:00

Where are we?
On this planet,
in this town.
Without a hope for peace.

This is a sad day,
one of regrets and chaos,
one that means absolutely nothing in the end.

Flowers will cry.
Stars will create life
within their explosions.
We will fall down.

Let us rise against
those who surpress us,
the ones that try to make us hungry
for false informatiion and sex.
We can be heard.

I will be just as quiet
as those stars,
those flowers,
those falls.

This is all.

2010-11-16T17:33:00.001-08:00

Do you ever wonder about your destiny? Wonder what’s actually going on? Here I am, I’ve been told most of my life that I’m different. That I’m special, that I do things differently. But why? Is it the same usual bullshit someone will tell you when they want you to feel better about your shortcomings? Or is it actual truth? Am I really that special of a person?

I will admit I feel special, but I also feel that everyone wants to feel special in some way or another. I mean who wants to be “normal”? I felt like that for a long while, but then at the same time I have a lot of people telling me things like “I’m always glad to be around you” and “I’m happy you’re you” Now this could be just general compliments, but when it comes from people that may not have the most “normal” views on life it makes me feel like there might actually be something to all this bullshit “good” feelings. Maybe I am just a weirdo.

That is all.

Attempted Redemption of a Dirtbag

2010-03-27T04:49:00.000-07:00

What is it about me? Why Do I decide one thing in my head and then within three beers suddenly my original idea is null and void? Can I really not control myself under intoxication? I've always considered myself strong willed, but am I really? I'm very stubborn that will never change, but maybe my will isn't as strong as I thought it once was. It's my vices... I would have never thought that I'd have vices, I guess that was my biggest mistake in the first place. Booze and women, like so many others that have fallen for the same two things. The biggest problem is one usually leads to the other, I find that avoiding girls while sober is rather easy, I can flirt but usually give way to my awkwardness and it never become more than giggles. Get two beers in me, and suddenly her watch is something I can start a conversation with, my beard is something that seals the deal with her never have kissing one before. It's great if I'm looking, but in the end it's looking in the wrong places, forming a relationship in one night, that would have never amounted to anything if it wasn't for those two or three beers. Luckily for me I have been smart enough to know when to stop, admittedly there have been more than once where my judgement has lapsed more than I would like. But in the end it's in the past. I don't look down on myself for what I've done, but what I've told myself.

There is one thing that could change it all, being love, but it's for a girl that right now I have no idea if even thinks of me. This isn't the usual staring across the coffee shop wishing to have the courage to talk. No, this is a girl who I love and have loved. At one point she said she loved me. But being the dumb boy that I am I threw it all away for pretty much nothing, a few drinks and a lapse in judgement. She forgave me once and then I messed it up again, in pretty much the same manner. For a time I thought we were separate and friends but that proved very wrong. She was still watching me, even while she had her own boyfriend she still had expectation of me "as a friend" she would claim. I hold nothing against her, I find somethings odd, but I have nothing but love for her. After all the times she's forgave me it's the least I can do. One day she put a very large crack threw my heart, saying we shouldn't even talk for the time. This hurt me a lot, although I can only imagine it's nothing compared to how I made her feel. Ever since that day (and many before it) I think of her everyday. Sometimes its little things that make remind me of her, other days its like right now, with me reflecting on how much I don't deserve her.

As I started on about love I guess I should do a better job at connecting my vices and my love. If I knew that I would have her back, even in years, I would never so much as kiss another woman. Drinking is something that I will not give up anytime soon, being as it is my chosen career path, but even then I can moderate myself, and for love that would be easy as turning off a tap. I very well know I should go about changing my ways just the same, and I do try. But why for? I don't want to stop looking for a companion just to realize two years down the line I should have been. No, this is all bullshit. I know very well I need to follow my heart, even if it is into a dead end. I guess the biggest thing is that I get lonely, and when I get too lonely I get depressed. This is why I like fighting fires. My summer is so occupied with work I haven't time to get lonely, why do you think I dread my days off? I have nothing to occupy myself with, and more often than not I turn to my vices.

I wish there was an easy way to put everything right, but I very well know that there is not, this is life, if it was easy what would the fun be? I'm always up for the challenge so I might as well start now, being "good". Finding other things to fill my time, only enjoying one or two beers a night, only letting myself get drunk one night a month, and not caring if I miss it. But even then not getting out of control, just getting pleasant with good people, after all I'm young, I should still enjoy things. I should say women are now out of the picture, but I know that would be stupid in ways. So as a good rule, take it slowly, snails pace if not slower.

Why do I write all this? It's what I felt like writing when I sat down. Who is going to read this? Maybe nobody, although there are some people that used to read my blog, maybe they will, of course they are good friends and should know a great deal about this, even if this is how they find out. There is one person who will read this and it may mean something to them, or they may dismiss it as more bullshit from the mouth of a dirtbag. After all I will admit to being a dirtbag. No matter who reads this thanks for taking the time to do it, I wish you the best.

Hold back

2010-02-10T02:09:00.000-08:00

I am the bad guy
The sleezy dirtbag
Never even knowing it

But it's true
I never wanted to be
In my head I was right
Out here I am still wrong.

You'll read this
And I'll cry.

There is a problem with being right
I can't stand being wrong
It's a problem

I was a knight
A dark one perhaps
With secrets
All for not

You were right
And that pains me

The Sky is Falling!

2009-11-10T00:07:00.000-08:00

I am not the person that sees a shooting star and makes a wish. Who looks at it and thinks of the person they have always wanted and imagines them together. I do not pick up pennies heads up only, in hopes of a better day. That is ridiculous, immature, and quiet frankly a load of hogwash.

At one point I was. I was weak and pathetic. I would pin wishes on stars and holding my breath through tunnels. I depended on those little good luck charms to make things happen, to absolutely no avail.

I look at shooting stars and know how great things are. I see the beauty in them and realize that the beauty seen there is also in every aspect of life. In love, happiness, and wonder. In fantasy, imagination, and creation. It is the spark that makes life worth living.

Cool Off Man

2009-11-02T23:11:00.000-08:00

Off to the mysterious Land of Zea... Should be interesting, maybe I will find a new calling down there, or just hang out for awhile, cool part is, if I get bored down there I'm so close to Australia I could hope over.

Already this post has pissed me off, I don't like hearing myself talk, or reading it for that matter. Um yeah...

Okay why am I bitter all of a sudden? I dunno life is just that way sometimes I guess.

Take it easy.

Go Big or Go Home...

2009-10-27T00:07:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of things that I want to do in my life, and for some reason I feel like I have to do them all right now. Perhaps this is a healthy feeling for someone my age. Maybe this would be closer to someone going through a midlife crisis realizing that there is only so much left to do. Honestly I couldn't tell you. I'm still 22 and have done a lot for even that age. The problem is it never feels like enough. So what I've been to 30some countries, there are still well over 100 that I haven't been to! I've rode a motorcycle across the USA and gotten in two near death crashes! So? There are a lot of countries I haven't rode across! Nothing is good enough for me. What I do seems to be alright and unimpressive.

Go big or go home... And here I am, at home. I feel like I am setting the bar for the average person, and if I can't do better than that then why do I even bother?

I feel this is all very vain, but I also feel this is how my mind works. The only American part of my thinking; Go big or go Home.

Sightless Sounds

2009-10-12T23:35:00.000-07:00

Everything feels kinda weird all of a sudden. Like something is going on and I should know what it is (because I am part of it) yet I have no idea what it is. It's everywhere around me, I just can't see it.

Today I heard something very loud. Completely silent, but I could hear it, and it was painful. Hasn't been the first time I've heard that deafening silence.

There is something very important going on, something very large. You may not be able to perceive it, but it is there and when it's your time it will be much too late.

Escapism

2009-07-10T00:15:00.000-07:00

Escapism is a very correct word for what I want to do, and quiet honestly fits the bill perfect for the drinking I do almost every night. But my activities have stopped fitting the bill, I'm not satisfied with them and I want to escape deeper. I want to lose all of my friends at times just say "fuck you" and see if they ever bother with me again. Basicaly I want to see if they are real friends.

But it's not just them, I immensly dislike where I am. Why for? I don't know I say I haven't found a better place than Ashland to be, but when I'm here I'm almost miserable, and more than half an alcoholic.

Where do I want to go? I don't know. I never know.

This is all about me. I know only one person is going to read this. Perhaps this is a call out, but you already know all of this.

To anybody else, I'm tired.

P.S. Fuck the spellcheck.

A wonderful little story about two books.

2009-06-05T13:59:00.001-07:00

This may be the best way to get any points accross at this place in my life, maybe I too can screw this up for the worse.

I have a problem, what it is I don't know but I know it's there. An addiction? perhaps it is. To what? That is what I don't know. Do I really lie to myself, do I really make up the stories in my head?

This isn't right. You're not supposed to question your own thoughts making sure that you are thinking from a credible stand point. It is something that is extremely hard to grasp but is going on the entire time behind your beautiful closed eyes.

What am I really? Am I a horrible person? I have a lot of people tell me I am, mostly in jest, but there is always truth to humor and there is always reason for the truth.

I want to abandon everything right now. Run. Get away from anyone I may be a ble to hurt with an ill thought. Run away to a place where people can't see me, and all I'll be is another face with holes in it's head. I want to know myself. I want to know who I'm hiding from the world, and if they are really that bad that I need to hide them. The good I do feels like a chore, it feels like I do it out of self gain. Is this true to me? I hate myself.

Forgetting My Underpants.

2009-06-02T01:16:00.000-07:00

Here I am trying to type this with one hand... It's a bitch and quite slow but I'll deal with it.

I'm really disappointed with where I am right now. I feel as if the last three months only enabled me to look into what my everyday life is and see that it's quite undesirable. I don't have any reason to stick around and really wonder why I don't just move on.

I've also hurt people. I don't like it, and I wish that it had never been an issue, but what can I really do now? It's all in the past and I've managed to screw things up in more ways than one. I'm not at all happy about the things I did, and I'm even less happy about the way I feel.

Me me me... That's really all it's about and that in itself bothers me. I've forgotten how to live.

589 Maple Avenue

2009-04-18T21:03:00.001-07:00

Loving every minute of every charming little world running by I slowly sit here to question the things that may have once been real. I've never been on these wheels going quite so fast that I feel as if I could fly, I'd like to spend some time in a proper jacket, one with long arms and a slightly stripped pattern.

The jacket once let the world open up through one of its pockets, but in years since it has been clogged up with a sort of garish pocket lint. While some believe this lint is what is making this world come to a stand still. I am the one who knows about the musk rats.

The rats have made a place for themselves in a very important attic in a house only know as 589 Maple Avenue. In this house you can find the three most powerful objects of our time. One is the jacket, the other two however are much less obvious and without the proper point of views and attires one would not be able to find them.

The second shall only be known as the pirate snow beards personal laundry. If this is what it actually is no one knows for certain all we do know it that it is a pile of rags smelling slightly of mildew and heavily of chloroform.

The third item only you can find.

ping pong

2009-03-08T22:33:00.000-07:00

My head is spinning into itself slowly as I let go of the bowling balls.

I I I I...

2009-03-02T23:02:00.000-08:00

Sitting, starring into nothing, well not quite nothing, the computer screen is technically a vacum which means there is nothing in there, but that's far from the current point.

What is the current point? That is a good question, I really don't have a clue if I was even trying to make a point all I know right now is that I'm wearing boots.

I'm really angry? I dunno maybe so, I feel like I need to vent. I look at things and I picture throwing them across the room and watching them shatter into hundreds of little pieces.

Is this what beer has done to me? I think that when I leave I will leave a scar way to big to not notice. A scar on the mountain a scar on my soul.

I want someone to punch me right now.

And I'm not spell checking this one... I don't give a fuck right now.

Thirtysix Fortysix

2009-03-01T18:25:00.000-08:00

This is it
For here lay the doormat
It will question
Without cruel sensation

We know things
Gather in the grassland
Always sleep in
Forget about Paris

Goodbye love
Long have I seen penguins
Places seem far
Challenge me for a doze

~chainsaws it all

2009-02-21T19:03:00.000-08:00

There is just a little bit too much tension between the two of us, I'd really like for it to subside, but what kind of tension would it be?

I just wish you'd kiss me, or let me kiss you for that matter. I don't know what you want and that would be all I would need. You'd be able to figure it out depending on the kiss.

I'd love for you to yell at me, tell me to leave, get everything out on the floor. For you to tell me that my life is a waste and that my dreams will get me nowhere. Just do it, I need the push, see if I even bother to come around for dinner.

What do you really want? You say one thing, and then do another, I don't mind but like I said it creates tension. I may not be around for much longer but I'd still like to let you know just how I feel.

I really don't need to listen to any of it at all; do you understand why I stay out so late? Why when I am around I sit quietly trying my best to avoid detection. You really don't get what I need, or what I want.

Bottoms up, a miserable way to deal with it all but as long as I disguise it as having a fun time with friends I won't be that bad off.

Looking Forward

2009-02-20T23:32:00.000-08:00

Out on the edge of forever, at any moment getting ready to race down into it, being able to see nothing but trees with expanses far beyond. What am I to do? Race of course; plummet into the darkness, knowing that I will survive only if I believe it. So I will. I will not just survive I will prosper, I will look back and realize that the life that just flashed before me was not what I expected at any point before then, it was amazing...

So back we come to moments before the plunge, trying to imagine how it will all turn out. We can't know; if we did it wouldn't be living

Hawaiian Shirts

2009-02-02T12:23:00.000-08:00

There I was, just sitting there thinking of how great I'd look in a 1940's Hawaiian shirt. Not just the shirt I'd say but also maybe some leather strap sandals and rugged khaki shorts that came to just below the knees. On my head I'm wearing a pair of gun metal aviators with lens that would be just a hair too large for anyone else. A hat? I've never looked good in baseball caps and a safari hat would be a little cliche. More then likely the hair that I have right now a little rugged, but not out of control. Clean shaven surprisingly somehow. And there I am in the market, I think the small lady is Indonesian could be Malaysian though, it doesn't matter too much the fact is it's a small market and I'm buying bananas for a price that would be unheard of in a developed nation. And there it is, the ocean, bright blue waters, with a beach that looks like something out of one of those movies, you know, palm trees and thatched huts. This is where I'm supposed to be, without a care in the world.

Release

2009-01-22T10:12:00.000-08:00

My life has gotten quite full all of a sudden... It went from doing nothing sitting on the computer all day, walking 11 miles and just generally monotonous. To what it is now. A non stop conglomeration of work, hanging out with friends, and sleep when I feel like squeezing it in. I used to do this back when high school first got out but many friends and activities departed with college. Have I finally caught up with my college? This past year has been one of learning and doing things that many people never achieve in their entire life. That makes me happy as well as sad. I wish that more people could live without the care of themselves and worries about all those little things that don't really matter. I've said it once and this is far from the last time you'll hear it from me... Do what makes you happy. Don't give a fuck what other people are going to think of you, it's their loss that they are too stuck up to take a moment and laugh at all the things that are actually funny.

I needed to say these things, I honestly needed to say a lot more then what is here right now, but my fingers are rusty and I should leave something for another day when I feel like I need to say something.

Same cat, different girl.

2008-11-26T14:14:00.000-08:00

So here we are again, just sorta sitting and chatting, trying to figure out exactly what is going on... well, I am you're probably actually thinking about what we're talking about, like our beers, Frisbees, your cat named Fennel? In all honesty I've lost track, mainly because my head is in the clouds, partly because of the beer, but mostly because of you. And we’ll talk in circles, well you’ll keep talking about your cat Fennel, but I'll keep thinking in circles, trying to find that perfect landing spot but constantly in the clouds. Every time I see a little bit of runway (which after two beers is more often then not) I try to land, only to see you cat Fennel jump out of nowhere and there I go and blow my landing. Oh, well he seems like a nice cat.

So the three of us, you, me and your cat Fennel, have gone about this more then once, it seems like an almost weekly thing now. Beer, clouds, and Fennel... I really like spending time with your cat so yeah it's cool.

Alright now we're both drunk, this should make things easy, but no, it's actually quite hard, it's like taking a jelly donut and telling it to roll over. It should be easy but it's a frigging jelly donut. Does your cat Fennel like donuts? He can have a piece of mine. And you're tired. Well I'm going to tuck you in with Fennel and walk home, don't worry it's only like two miles, enjoy your night with Fennel. I'll see you later.

I'd just like to tell you it's been really good getting to know you (and your cat Fennel for that matter) but I'm leaving for a time. Yeah I don't really know where I'm going just leaving for a time. Probably multiple months, you know the whole wander the earth trying to find an answer sorta thing, just not quite so intense, maybe call it a "soul quest lite". Okay see you later, I'll make sure to send Fennel a postcard. Awkward hug and goodbye...

Dear Fennel,
The road life is great, seeing things that I never though I would. Hopefully I'll be back around your way soon but it's hard to say. Tell her that I love her. Until next time!
Always,
JHC

The Night

2008-10-06T00:03:00.000-07:00

This is a night to dance, to sing, to enjoy.

Joy

2008-09-29T23:40:00.000-07:00

There is something about actually living that makes everything else just sorta fall by the roadside.

Life is so amazing, actually feeling the blood not just pumping but rushing through your veins is something that we should all feel everyday. You see things in completely different lights, the things you walked underneath every single day suddenly become something you stop and admire.

There is a small symphony in my head and it is playing the most amazing melody I've ever heard.

Left for the Right Field

2008-09-22T00:08:00.000-07:00

I have yet to see anything of any real use come out of me for a time.

Why? Is the question I ask. The answer I receive does not come to me, for it is lacking heart and heat.

We will go on of course, but not after telling a story of several individuals.

I'll go ahead and say it, I am dilemma'd beyond what I know what to do. And I am only dilemma'd because of my utter lack of tact and fear of that lack messing up more then I'd like it to.

Deeper we go.

Let’s say that I cared for someone immensely, and they just stood there and called for me. The call was in some other language and I could not tell what it meant. So here I am, trying to get closer just so I can understand what is going on, all the while this person, (she) is creating a more and more, less comprehendible call. So there I am just getting further from her as I take steps closer. The question will remain and I will be confused. I will go to great lengths for shear uncertainties, all for what? The same chance I'd have before those risks.

I don't know what I just said, take it how you will.

On a lighter note I want to go sky-diving.

All the way since January

2008-09-06T14:56:00.000-07:00

There have been many times when I forget about this place and today would almost have been one if it was not for Ecuador.

So here I am, sitting and typing, I feel like you do after a long day in the sun, not so much tired as burnt-out, but definitely tired. I hope you all know what I mean. It also currently feels like I got in half of a fight, between the bruises on my jaw line, and the scraps in random parts of my body. All of this from one bottle of champagne. Champagne is wonderful, definitely my choice beverage for getting fucked up on. So I think that you all might want me to get on with the story, so here it goes...

There I was standing it the middle of the forest, not actually wanting to be there for I knew bad things were to come of it. What bad things? I can't verbalize or vocalize the horror of these things other then they might just be the most amazing things ever. So there I was in the forest, realizing that not wanting to be there was why I was there, I was there to know these things I was there to let it wash over me, I was there to find happiness.

The happiness was wrapped in a few layers and one of which was resentment, another jealousy, and more still were they flowing. These are not things you’d associate with happiness because you can't normally see through them, but the more you seek out these things the more you realize that the happiness is behind the scales. You don't want to feel these things but you can't help it. And then I died.

I don't know what killed me, it was like a gunshot, out of nowhere and I can still feel the wound. I bled out all of my joy and malice, all of my hard ache and camaraderie, I was empty for a time, and time passed.

Crying was what happened, but not the kind for tears, cries for help, cries for someone to share this experience with, and there I was, hoping to have someone come and tell me that they knew, that they were in the forest too, that they had seen my pool of self and had washed it with me.

There was something there that helped me. Something entirely beyond physical comprehension, that was telling me where to dig the bullet out. So I was there letting myself be controlled by this thing without knowing that it was building a cage around me as I healed. A cage that one could get out of with a simple slip of the hand, but if you didn’t know the handshake you'd be left for dead. And all I could do was wait.

I'm waiting right now, and I know nothing. I am on the verge of tears, my heart is already bleeding. Why for, you may ask? All I can tell you is that it's a dilemma, a lot of dilemma.

This moment.

2008-01-04T23:47:00.001-08:00

Here I am, the feeling traveling through my body is more intense then anything I have felt in recent years. More real then anything I've ever sensed. The feeling is just so right. If I could put it to words I would not be able to do it justice. Perhaps pictures, sounds, or scents might do a better job. This feeling is like walking to the top of a tall mountain and seeing the vast world below you. This is not intimidating but much rather enlightening to see what you are part of. You see the entirety of the world; almost as if you are part of the trees the clouds and the earth. This feeling is the perfect sound; raindrops pattering around you while there is absolutely no other noise besides the rhythmic breathing of your lungs. The sound is so empty yet so full at the same time you feel as though you are melting away into the raindrops and will soon become part of the life force of the planet. I feel amazing, invincible, and calm. Here I am, feeling more right then anything.

Gaggles of Giggles

2007-12-09T22:43:00.000-08:00

I could write all about you, how you make me feel, how I can't get you out of my head, or how I sometimes think you're too good for me. But honestly that would be way too obvious and I'd really prefer to tell you about all those things in person, or at least on the phone. So hear I go on a topic that can not be directly related to anything, but we all know the truth.

It's the giggles that make these small creatures things of beauty. When you watch a whole gaggle of them, all giggling in different tones it almost feels as if you're attending a grand symphony comprised completely of sweet little jokes and humorous faces. As you walk away from the gaggle of these creatures you can not help but chuckle yourself. You'll find yourself smiling bigger and brighter then ever before. It's almost as if life has suddenly become more enjoyable just because you know they exist.

Here and Now

2007-11-27T18:45:00.000-08:00

Why am I here? Is it really that much better? Do I have more friends here? Do I have more fun here? How can I truly tell? The last few months in Oregon were horribly clouded, whether it is for the better or the worse. Looking back at it you wouldn't be able to get an unbiased response from me. For so long it was great, until the very end when it was crap. Is that why I'm here? Is it because back there was so reminiscent of hurt?

I have plenty of questions and I know I'm the only one that can really even begin to answer it. But at the same time I don't know what to say. I don't know the answers. I'm just confused and wandering. I mean there have been plenty of good times here. There are people that enjoy me being here, but in the end, I'm still in the exact same place at midnight, sitting here in front of my computer with absolutely nothing to do.

The conclusion? There isn't one. This is something I will grate upon my mind for the next few months until I can make a final decision.

Life in the Passenger Seat

2007-11-26T19:38:00.000-08:00

We all sit around waiting for something spectacular to happen to us, but we never take a moment to sit back and look at thing from the bigger picture. We never see all the events passing by us why we sit still. Sure every once in a while an event will collide with our daily path, but truly this is nothing compared to the pandemonium that we can get ourselves involved in.

I'm tired of this regular current I ride every day, I'm ready to take a step into the deep end and see how well I swim. But how do I jump into it all? How do I make things happen to me? I'm much too used to sitting and watching I've forgotten how to live.

But then again have I ever lived? All my memories of travel and the rest of life I have been watching from somewhere not quite there. Watching as if I was someone else doing all the things I did. It's as if I have an autopilot when it comes to true life. A mode I switch on so I can watch my actions like a movie. Because really isn't that what really living feels like; nothing more then a realistic movie.

I can't focus.

2007-11-19T21:21:00.000-08:00

Tick-tock until the ring-ring, you're never going to see it coming.

Please just let me out of this place and go on with your little life. Fall like you will from a star so high up that you will near actually see this abyss until you hit it.

Pull all of everything away from anything you may know as anything but yes. Try to pull it together as the clock goes tick-tock.

Maybe we know exactly what's going to happen when we all fade from this earth, but I can guarantee you I will not be here waiting. I will be long past in more ways then one, just quietly waiting to see all of you come.

We all get taken from our one true path in an attempt to see what we may want to in the exact way we came from.

Call it what you will but you will never be called in to see exactly what you want to. Call it everything you ever wanted but we all know it is just your end.

Time is in question today.

2007-11-15T23:45:00.000-08:00

Love is like a vicious raindrop falling from the clouds of acidic breath.
Never growing into anything more then a pair of turned up trench coats.
Bless this place like it was a temple to the goddess that lives in you.
Don't forget everything that we forgot to say back the way we came from.
Believe in everything that you see when you are trying to see the stars.
Live like we'll be alone in three short hours of dull and uselessness.
Question my motives like I was going to tell you about a pot of gold.
Time moves like a backwards clock full of pieces of scalding hot calzone.

A hint of Joy

2007-11-13T22:36:00.000-08:00

Here I am

But there I was

Don't ever forget how things happen
This can be what we call
Exactly what we want it to be
Don’t be afraid of the smaller things

This is the one place that doesn’t matter

Truth be told about all of it
Don’t run too far
Leave everything behind

Go

Randoms

2007-11-11T22:44:00.000-08:00

The flowers occupy the background in such a manner you would never expect to see them unless you were there. It's like they exist almost one a different level of consciousness.

I have a scrape across my lower back, but I can't feel it at all, so really it doesn't even begin to bother me at this point. I can't feel it because it is on the part of my back that has nerve damage from hitting a tree. I just find it amusing that something like that can happen. You damage yourself and don't even notice it through the scars. I think this exists on more levels then just the physical.

Today I drew two symbols on my hand. I don't think they mean anything, but at the same time they were put there as a reminder, and they have served their purpose, yet they remain. The only thing I can think of is that they have a deeper purpose that will be revealed on a later date.

What I am

2007-11-04T19:47:00.000-08:00

I'm tired, of what I don't know.
The rest I need I can not get.
I'm wasted, on what I can't remember.
The sobering thoughts will not come.
I'm confused, why is still a question.
The clarity won't reveal itself.
I'm disappointed, with whom I can not tell.
The reasons are much too fuzzy.
I'm blank, for I am hiding,
because that is what I do.

How many voices are there?

2007-10-27T00:45:00.000-07:00

Sure he's had a couple drinks, but just look at his eyes... They're truthful. You know he will never tell you a lie. But is that the salesman inside of himself? Yes quite perhaps, his eyes are made to drill into your head. But you know how he feels about you don't you? Well perhaps, maybe, I really don't know anymore. I don't blame you, he can't tell either, and it’s been quite surprisingly hard on him. I mean, look at his eyes, do those look like eyes that sleep well? Are you saying he traveled 1500 miles to sleep restlessly? No, not just for that, but to get a new start. The restlessness at night is just a cruel side effect of leaving everything in another state. Does he seem like he has before? I really can't tell, he's a new person, he could be close to death over this situation and he'd still smile, he really has no fears. Isn't that dangerous? Well, yes but he doesn't care. I think he's ready for death. If he were to die right now he could go only feeling bad for the people he left behind. But isn't that just wrong to want to die? Well, he doesn't want to die, he just could tolerate it right now, and while he's alive he wants to live like he is alive. But he isn't living like that right now. True, but he wants to, he wants to be truly happy all the time, not just a facade that he puts on whenever he needs to deal with people. Well that seems like a kind of crumby situation. It is, but he manages, in a short while he will truly settle in and things should go smoothly until he wants to mess shit up again. That really does sound like him, can't be content with anything, for contentment is acceptance, and acceptance means you've given up. Maybe that is true, but I think he's really only looking for a place that he can tolerate for more than a short period of time. Damn he tastes of beer, I'll never get used to that. No worries, it's better then the rum he will burp up for hours on end. True, but he never drank before. Like I said, he's a completely different person now he does everything differently. He lives, he loves, and he sleeps, all differently. Did you notice his stomach has gotten so much smaller? He really is different, but not so much, he still has the same outlets, he still hates being alone. True, but those are things he uses for comfort, or at least things he uses to seek comfort. What about her? Like I was saying before, he's confused about her. He’ll be glad if he so much as talks to her. Is it really that bad between them? Well it's not bad, just confusing. Bitter sweet to say. He craves her but doesn't know if that's what he wants anymore. Confusing isn't it? It's only because he can't read her. But what's that to matter? If it will work it won't matter. Yes, but he is just afraid. He may not have any true fears, but this, girls, they make him squirm. It's sad really. He's getting tired; let us go narrate his dreams.

What happens to be on my head.

2007-10-23T21:50:00.000-07:00

I am lonely. I admit this only because this is me right now. I know it's rather stupid for me to feel so down because of something to trivial, but I do. I think it might be of the memories I have of being with someone. No, not the cuddles and the kisses, but don't get me wrong those are nice. I'm talking about just how much nicer the air is, how much greener the grass is. I don't even necessarily want to be "with" someone, although that would be nice. I just want people who I can sit around with and just know that they're cool and they're there for me.

I like to cook. The only problem I have with cooking is figuring out what to cook. If someone puts down all the ingredients in front of me and says "Make this." I'll have no problem at all; in fact I'll enjoy it. But when it comes to me making something myself I always get stuck, never really know where to start. Half the time when I make anything though people always like it. It's really rather scary.

I just hit keys randomly sometimes when I'm typing and words that I don't even know why I'm typing them come out. It's kinda strange especially since they are real words they just haven’t gone through my head when I actually type them. Sometime I want to type without thinking at all and see what I end up writing. Knowing my head it should be semi-entertaining.

I hope you too feel like this

2007-10-21T21:44:00.000-07:00

Swirls of color around the plane of vision, twisting and spinning in ways that one might not think possible. Greens, blues and purples, all transform into warmer colors and then back again while touching just on the edge of colors one could not comprehend. The colors travel through the air like sound, with every shift another hum or click. The yellows whining at a painfully high pitch while the deeps blues are the purest form of bass one could expect. Filled with the beautifully orchestrated sounds of the rainbow.

The Way We Live

2007-10-18T20:33:00.000-07:00

Pieces of trash fall from the sky, fluttering like fluffy snowflakes caught in the current of a passing car. The refuse stacks up slowly, in the corners at first but after a few short minutes the entire in between is filled. Cigarette butts, old newspapers, soda cans, and condom wrappers are all accountable for the piles, none of it much use as of right now. Every one has it's story, stories of passing strangers and better going-ons. None of them quite expected to pile up next to some young couples passionate love. None of them expecting to be so tossed aside.

The music is what made it.

2007-10-15T22:29:00.000-07:00

Please just lay next to me and be there for more then 22 minutes.
Please just let me be close to you and let me care about you.
Please just know what I mean.
Please just stare at the stars in a perfect silence with me.
Please just know who you are and know who I am.
Please just give me five minutes worth of a chance.
Please just understand why I need this.
Please just let me cry while I listen to this magnificence.

I felt like writing for a 4 year old

2007-10-12T23:37:00.000-07:00

There once was a boy, he lived in a place that was full of very big people. He was constantly lonely for none of the big people ever took notice of him. They all went along with their daily lives and more often then not walked right over boy without taking any notice to him. The boy didn't like it in the least and on several occasions he would end up crying himself to sleep.

One noteworthy day, when the clouds split the sky in half, the boy met a small girl, she was a lot like him, in the fact that the very big people gave little notice to her either. The boy was so happy to meet this small girl, he finally had someone he could relate to. Every day the boy and the small girl would talk, and entertain each other with tales of their lives. They were happy.

A long time passed like this and the boy thought of the small girl as the most amazing person he had ever met. The only problem was that over the time the boy had known the small girl she had grown bigger. In fact now she was not a small girl at all, but much rather a few inches taller then the boy. This made the boy very sad and he talked to the girl about it. All the girl had to say was that it was time for her to grow, and that she needed to be a bigger person to accomplish certain things. This made the boy cry, because he wanted to stay the same size forever.

I try to live.

2007-10-11T21:35:00.000-07:00

There is nothing, not a word, not a sight, not even a smell. Why not? It doesn't matter because we're all just little specks of dust waiting to be inhaled into a giant kangaroos nostrils where we will then embark on the most entertaining few minutes of our life.

Think of the kangaroos sneeze like the big bang, only bigger.

Fuck... why do you even read all this bullshit? Seriously? half the time it's something massively incomprehensible, and the other half of the time it's me complaining about my friggin lack of love in a twisted and covert manner purely to disguise it from the reader who it is about. Either way do you gain anything from reading this?

Okay you can say you get to know the true Logan better, the one that doesn't give a shit about half of everything, but do you really? Is any of this randomness even a half open window into my persona? Can my random ranting and typing actually be me? I don't even know what I write about, I just type and let the words come to me, inserting fancy verbs here and there to make me sound half intelligent.

I'm not the same person I was 3 years ago, I don't say "'ey". I say "Howdy" I don't grunt, I mumble. I don't give a damn anymore, I try to live.

A Knock to the Head

2007-10-08T19:39:00.000-07:00

Whenever I get hit in the head I really hope that I'll get some sense knocked into me. And thinking of the last two time I did hit my head I'm not sure if it's the correct thing to be looking for.

The first of the two was at the rugby game. It was maybe three minutes into the game, at most five, but I should have been fresh either way, although a nasty blow to my upper thigh massively slowed me down. Anyways, back to the point, lets say four minutes into the game. The El Paso team has the ball. Their outside center is carrying, running down the sidelines with his wing in a miserable spot for anything else to happen. Perfect set up for the tackle, and sure enough. BAMF! There I am getting up off the ground, all I can do is clench my teeth and try to recover my balance to the left. I can tel I was hit on the left side of my face purely because I can't control where that eye was looking, at one point I see the ground and the next I see the sideline while I'm trying to follow the ball. I was hit hard and I could feel it, but like I said, I was looking for the sense it might have driven into my thick skull.

Sure there may have been something that got in there, but honestly it just made me think, and then the fact that I couldn't just made me frustrated. I couldn't think straight at all, but how much of it was from the hit? How much of it was the events from the night/morning before? I don't know, but I knew that I was playing as hard as I was because I told people I would, more specifically one person. I also know that that hit to the head made me alot more serious about that one person then I should have been at that point, but whatever kept me going, right?

The second hit was later that night, I had more then one drink under my belt at that point and in all my grace as I sat down next to Madam V I squarely nailed my head to the wall. Did I learn a lesson? More then likely not, but at the same time I might have. If thinking didn't hurt as much as it did I'd give you a straight answer.

I won't hide it, this is about you.

2007-10-01T19:50:00.000-07:00

The thump of the fan was constant, like the beat of some techno remix on crack. It drilled into his head as he lay there staring at the shapes on his ceiling, much as if he were staring at a formation of cloud. with each revolution came a new thought, far to many to sort all at once, but a portion of it all could be held, a familiar face here, a rainbow there, perhaps a wonderful feeling just on the brink of his touch. Each thought in itself was perfect calm, but in the rapid succession it was grating to say the least. As one comfort came it was quickly ripped away from him just to be replaced by something else. The replacement was not always worse and more often then not it was better, the thing that he could not stand was the change. Slowly the fan started to slow down. Whether or not it actually was, or his mind was just slowing it down for him did not matter, each and every thought suddenly became a memory of a dream.

The sun was barely coming in the window, but he could still see her face as perfectly as ever. It was beautiful, the softness of it, the little freckles that lightly dotted the ridges of her cheeks. It was the definition of calm to look at in her sleeping state. He knew he should sleep too, and just let the utter comfort he felt being next to her take over. Then suddenly she opened her eyes looking straight at him as if even in her dreams she had been looking into his eyes. No words were passed, none needed to be, both were content and happy, and it showed by the smiles on each of their faces...

There he lay, not staring at the ceiling this time but much rather the stars. It was nice to look at the stars, on several occasions before this moment the lack of stars had quite literally depressed him. There was always something about looking to the heavens that calmed him, whether it be the eternal mystery or the hope of new horizons he wouldn't be able to tell you, that is of course was if he even cared much about that. One of the most intriguing aspects to the stars he thought was that someone, somewhere else is looking at exactly the same piece of sky. It is a beauty you can share with absolutely zero prejudice. It is perfection...

It was dark outside but it didn't matter, the steady hum of the engine would continue no matter then time. It was comforting in some way. Like an old friend holding your hand, or someone you care about talking to you on the phone. It just felt right. It was his old beater of a truck, but it was more then a truck, it was a friend. And why not? The cowboys of an earlier time had made best friends out of their steads why could that relationship not be modernized? Feeling the wheel in his fingers, and the green glow of the stereo on his face just made him feel at home. It didn't matter where he was, because he was in fact home...

I don't know why I continue.

2007-09-30T21:18:00.000-07:00

The thing is that it isn't failure, it just the way life is. Let go of some of the bullshit that you count on and think about exactly what you're doing. Fuck all those little mushrooms, and even more so the small feline monkeys who try to steal them from you. Let this thing out of the cage and ride it like a turkey with its head recently severed from the rest of it's body. Eat the purple sauce, it's probably not what you think it is, but hey it is vegetarian so we need not to worry about the risks we take with not cooking it. But we never loved anything like that before anyway, it was all desperation. We make constant attempts to love, but as humans it the closest thing in our lives that will ever approach perfection, do you really think we can make that the first time around? Butterflies are all that tasty goodness we were always told about, but it's not like we can actually let our teeth feel the tear of their beautiful wings. It would cause insanity and even worse it would tell us who we were. But for now it doesn't matter, our cups fill themselves with hate, greed, and power. We are humans and we will be the end of ourselves. We hope for the best and we are sad when we get the worse. Just sing a few more songs, someone might appreciate them, but really it's nothing more then an annoying ring tone, set for someone who you really don't want to talk to. Let the cowboy take a look at what you really have to say. sometimes I wonder about the stars, this is something that proves we are mortal.

Flies in the Pie

2007-09-25T19:42:00.000-07:00

Time is such a thing, it comes, it goes, and above all else it flies. Flies like a little spaceship orbiting a far off star not anywhere even close to out solar system. As it orbits it's speed is completely relative, it could be going many thousands of miles per second, or it could be crawling around at four feet per hour, but for whoever is on the spaceship it will feel like a constant pace no matter what. Like that spaceship we ride time, some times we look back and see that we've come thousands of miles in just an hour, and other days we see that we are right where we started.

I honestly don't know what to think about time, I just know it works against me, every second I sit here staring at the screen is another chance to do so many other things, every day I sit doing nothing is another 1000 miles I could have gone. It seems like I need to justify every second that passes just so I don't feel like I'm wasting my life. But much more often then not it's not justifiable. This is when I just need to sit back and realize that sure I may have a limited amount of time, but with a little thought I have alot more then I know what to do with.

Right now I don't know how I feel. I'm in a state of near pure confusion I don't know what to do so I just sit back and smile, take absolutely everything as it comes to me and just take it for the better.

Maybe this is the way I am?

2007-09-16T14:49:00.000-07:00

Lets play a game. I call it try to think of the most interesting thing you could possible shove into your life and add a whole lot of undeserved, invisible mind fucks. This is a game I'm very good at playing, sitting here trying to see how I can change my life, never thinking that this is in fact my life and that this is in fact the only chance I get. But if it is my only time around why can't I have fun? Why can't I mess it up for the better? Why do I need to care about everyone else's standards. This is my life, this is my only chance, and this is exactly how I want to live.

But is it really? Yes. When you doubt your actions you become insecure and you get depressed don't question yourself, question reality and all that it tells you. Question not just your own limits but the barrier of reality itself. Live like you're in love and just slam it all.

Happy Oblivion

2007-09-15T00:08:00.000-07:00

There he was, looking out at the rest of the thanklessly small universe, trying not to fall backwards into the violent grip of some other unreality. This wasn't quite what he imagined it would be but it was unquestionably the end. Not the end of everything but the end of nothing. From this point on everything was going to happen. Not all at once but in a rapid succession fired neurons and digested proteins. It was all falling down. First fell the stars, and then with no lights to mark upright the ground quickly followed. The fall was similar to that of August just with more fire and less golden sunsets. The fire was not consuming but much rather creating. Creating that which one must fear, what one must love, what one must worship. In this fire of creation he could see himself. Not as a reflection, but much more as himself in everything else. And as he looked at himself he fell. He fell into himself and out of this world. He fell toward the beginning and back into his mothers womb. But the falling did not stop there. He slowly folded into himself and could see all the little minerals and insects that once had an existence free of love. He could see how eternity looked from a standpoint of mortality. And this was what life was. Not but a small fleck of dust on a infinite glass plane set in the sliding door of a forever expanding consciousness, awaiting for the rock of reality to slide unnoticed through it in a splintering headache of dreams and hopes. He opened his eyes and could see not.

Inadequacy Overcomes

2007-09-11T09:39:00.000-07:00

Inadequacy overcomes me. I feel as if I can not be the person people want me to be. And I know that is complete and utter bullshit. I need to be who I want me to be, but I only want to make those around me happy. I can't do it. I've even resorted to not going out of my way for those people who are a little further from me, and trying to only appease my close friends. But even then I feel so much less. I feel like it's not me. I don't know what to do, I'm worried that the real me is horrible. I'm worried that I won't even like the real me. I don't know what I want to do, I'm not sure where I need to go. All I know is that I need to know.

I look at what I just wrote and all I can see is "I"... That makes no sense to me, I've never been "I" I've always been him, or not even written at all, just a tragic undertone for you to twist out of the deeper message. Writing about "I" is so weird, makes me feel so afraid. Just the fact that people will know what I'm actually feeling is scary. Have I always been this closed?

Lost

2007-09-08T13:07:00.001-07:00

Here he lays, silently staring at the stars, wondering just what the next step is, wondering where he needs to go. Slowly his vision begins to blur. Tears. He lays there crying as the sky softly disappears into a foggy memory. So much confusion so much insecurity, he doesn't know what to do. He can smell the grass, but that is quickly outlived by the sharp tang of tobacco.

The smoke wafts from a location not in his near vicinity but much rather from a point in his memory, a point in his life where something like that was much more of a welcome, comforting scent to escape the reality that he would have to face otherwise. At this point there was no confusion, but much rather cruel certainties that racked his brain for time on end. Even then the bitter smell of the smoke wasn't truly welcome.

His vision clears, but what comes into view isn't the original picture of the stars, but much rather his face. A horrible sight, not nearly aged as one would think but subtle and calm, the eyes have a look that they have seen much more then eyes of his age should have seen. A light blue accented by what looks like thunderbolts of a almost blackish blue.

He closes his eyes in hopes to make it all go away, hating every one of his senses wishing that each would stop, and let him live in the present, but it's too late, he's lost somewhere that he's never been, with absolutely no familiarities and no safe havens. This is it, this is what life is.

The Morning After

2007-08-03T08:59:00.000-07:00

He woke up staring into the trees, knowing that the firmness underneth him was the parking lot of the Rusty Spur. His head felt like it might as well have been left in a vice for the night while a blacksmith took care to hit the soft spots. He was painfully aware that it wasn't a hangover, mainly acredited to the two beers he did have, but much more table three and the five gents that sat there.

"Need some help?"

He somehow knew that voice, but not from the night before, or even any recent history.

"Are you okay?"

Again. He slowly looked over and knew exactly who it was. He had never met her but he already knew there lives were more than a little intertwined.

"I should be good, once I figure out which way is up."

Getting a good look of her he had never been more certain of anyone thing.

"Could I give you a ride somewhere?"

He knew it was a risk to ask, but again, it was so clear.

"I'm heading East."

Goats go to Heaven

2007-07-16T23:24:00.000-07:00

I have no will.

I'm completely governed by the environment around me; by the way people talk to me. I have no self-motivation, or desire to live. I am here purely to entertain those around me. To make them feel nice, to do things for them. I will always go with the crowd, not because it is the "in" thing to do, but purely because I leech off of the hive mind. I don't participate in the thinking, nor do I even enjoy the decisions. I am just a leech on the outside, holding on for dear life because I know nothing else. And even when I do know what's better, I can't release myself from the link that is keeping me what I think is sane. I have no self identity, only that which others tag to me, and I do not argue or defend, I mold to what they think of me. I am not just a sheep, but a lamb.

I can't be here.

2007-07-02T22:58:00.000-07:00

Fuck.

So I drive.

It's been a few days now, but still. Fuck.

I can't escape. The place I'm running from is in my head.

Now it's been a week, I'm starting to lose it.

I drive.

Awaited

2007-06-16T00:47:00.000-07:00

Well it has been much too long between updates, but then again is that not perfectly normal for me?

So here we are, off on the grandiose adventure, pigs and penguins galore with not but a lampshade to guide are way. This may be pure madness but is that not what we have all been created from and surly if not created then at least it is to what we all travel.

But alas, here we go wading out into the shallows which very well may be our lost spirits mourning and screaming for us to take them back and heal this horrible place we call mind.

Observations

2007-04-28T23:20:00.000-07:00

Now that we are all here lets start with all the background.

He is really not that sociable of a person, but he craves human contact. he needs it to keep his mind at ease. It's actually quite strange since he is very particular about who he interacts with even though this need for interaction is so great. It's much like a drunk who can only drink wine to satisfy their thirst. Or a smoker who can only smoke menthol.

Beyond his social life, lies his consciousness. Which would more then likely make the average person exhausted, and on more then one occasion taken its toll on the subject. His brain never seems to halt is is always thinking of something, whether it be how something works, or what he should have said in a conversation that happened several weeks earlier.

He loves her with all of his heart, and wishes that he could love her more. Everything thing he does in his life more or less ties into Her. Luckily She loves him in return.

Much beyond that is just as much a mystery to us as him. The subject would be very happy to know how he works and several of us would be too, but for now it will be an enigma, and more than likely it will remain an enigma. Whether that is good or bad will forever remain a question, and is best left that way.

Nothing but a diddle.

2007-04-24T08:55:00.000-07:00

How strange be this, nothing but a little diddle, written on the corner or a small little napkin.

Day 2

2007-03-24T23:58:00.000-07:00

The Oracle stared at him from across the empty road; each of the tattoos on his neck almost seemed to glow with a light just on the edge of our visible spectrum. He had seen this man several times before and none of this felt like a surprise. Suddenly the Oracle opened his mouth. As the Oracle did the rest of the world seemed to get a little fainter and a little further away. The seer's tattoos were throbbing with that invisible light as he spoke.

"You will meet a girl, to the East, traveling as far as you but for a much different reason. She will lead you where you need to go. Do not fear her for she will hold sway over you."

He didn't even attempt to respond, he nodded knowing that the Oracle would say no more. With that the Oracle walked away, leaving him to his truck and small breakfast of bread and tea. He blinked a couple times blankly at the sun before gulping down his tea and discarding his bread the waiting black birds, who fought over it viciously. He got into his truck and turned the key. The truck started with no problem.

"Well that seems like as good of start as any for today." He said as he pulled out towards CA-44 East. "Looks like I should keep my eyes open."

Somewhere between the middle and the end.

2007-03-20T22:22:00.000-07:00

There they sat on the tail gate of the pick-up, it had been a long night but one could hardly tell through the crispness of his suit and the smile she wore as she sipped her mocha vente with an extra shot of espresso from the small coffee shop down the street. They both were reading part of the newspaper. He, of course, had the comics section, and was lightly chuckling at the likes of Dilbert and Garfield. She was looking for what might be the cutest animal in the classified section.

"Let's get this bullet out of my arm." He said as he folded up the funnies. "It's starting to hurt again."

She stretched, folded up the tail gate, and proceeded to climb into the passenger seat. "Will they ask questions?"

She lit up her cigarette and smoked it out the window as they drove towards the Sonora Community Hospital 30 miles down the road.

The almighty return of Nothing

2007-03-12T22:01:00.000-07:00

Jeez, it seems like it's been forever and a half since the last time I've posted, and quite honestly, if forever was a month, that statement would be 100% true. But for now lets pretend that I'm not dead and I will post between now and the end of time, and hopefully more then once or twice. I'm talking like 4 times.

So yes, yes, and yes. I honestly don't know. I don't even feel like posting all that much. I'm just here to kill some time and kittens. Well not that last part. Because you really can't kill time, it's a non-physical entity. You can bash clocks all you want but it won't change a thing. You can also slow it down, but to do that you'd have to approach the speed of light. Which is kinda hard to achieve, kinda annoying too, but that's for later.

I guess I haven’t posted more because I have a jub and less free time to think and get depressed and artistic and shit. And then the times I do get depressed I have a wonderful girlfriend who I can just think about and get in a much better mood. And like so many tortured artists, love and happiness do not mix with the poetry some call death, and others call inter-webular-emotion-spills-that-no-one-cares-about.

I leave you to think and care about anything.

Tongue Tied

2007-01-04T22:41:00.000-08:00

I realize that it has been a very long time since I have actually written about the going-ons in my life. Well, looking back that is a lie. Half of everything I write has great significance in my life it is just weather or not you know how to read what it is. Now I realize you might need a decoder for what I just said, but instead I strongly encourage you to agree. Smile, nod, and walk away.

I'm horrible at talking, I'll admit that, and many of you readers that actually know me will agree (okay, like all two of you.) I have this (supposedly) incredible gift of writing, so as to the point of people actually liking to read it, and on some occasion it even provokes emotions. But alas, I can not translate that gift to my tongue. Some people have a silver tongue... mine is rusty iron.

I agree with myself, I'm horrible at talking. And it really bothers me, purely because I know you could hand me a piece of paper and I could write for you a small poem on exactly what I want to say, and more then likely convey my meaning much better then my idiotic stuttering of words, and "ums" could ever get me. I am, honestly, trying to improve this shortcoming of myself, but I really don't know where to start, I think for one I will just verbally express myself more then my classic masochistic ways.

New Years Resolution

2007-01-01T22:12:00.000-08:00

Just let us know what's going on,
don't make it so difficult and stupid,
to figure out whats going on.
When you just sit there moping around
we don't really care what's on your mind
unless you want to talk.
We don't want to have to beat you senseless,
with our questions and concerns,
cares and sympathy,
just to hear you blow it off.
We don't want to deal with all your shit,
the only way we can get to it
is with two fists and a crowbar,
we just don't care that much about your problems.
If you want to sit down start talking about it,
we'd be more then happy to help you stay on your feet,
keep your head cool and smiling,
keep you from losing touch with all you love.
So just get over all of your stupid problems,
let the cat out of the bag;
attach your tongue right back to where it belongs.
Tell us everything you care about,
everything that bothers you.
Just get in out of the cold,
you masochistic s-o-b.
All this emo shit is getting old.

So it begins.

2006-12-24T20:01:00.000-08:00

The familiar sound of the flywheel sticking greets the 19 year old as he turns the key. To many this would be the sign to call AAA, or perhaps flag down another motorist to get some help. Not Ablyn though. He grabs the steering wheel with both hands and violently shakes the small cab of the Toyota pickup in an attempt to get the flywheel moving. As he turns the key for a second time, the small four cylinder engine gives out the roar you'd only hear from pre-1990's automobiles. Slowly he pulls out of his curbside parking space and makes his way to the near-by interstate five. This is about to be a very interesting week.

EVERYTHING!

2006-12-20T00:27:00.000-08:00

Here I am so worried about everything, never actually stopping and looking at everything going on around me. I really just need to stop and think. No, not think but think less. I think too much, my brain is always plugging away at the random shit inside my head. She loves me, she loves me not. I take little things and they suddenly mean the world. Oh, look at that! She smiled; it must mean that when the planets are aligned with the moon and the sun is on its downward decent that she absolutely hates me. It makes sense! Oh, why does the world hate me so? This is all in my head of course, but you can convince yourself about anything and everything. You can tell yourself that you are crazy, and well when you wake up on the floor foaming at the mouth wearing nothing but a pair of ladies underwear on your head, you might just think. I was right all along! So why tell yourself that you are crazy? Shit happens.

Bitch

2006-12-03T02:36:00.000-08:00

Some times I feel like a bitch. Just the way I think and the way I feel that everyone else should be, totally based on my damned opinions and the way I would like people to act around me.
What can I do?
Absolutely nothing but just shut my mouth and don't friggin hear about it.
Seriously, when I do think about it, all I get is bad ideas in my head, I start thinking of all the things I don't want to happen, I lose trust in people for things they've never done. I get upset about it.
I am a bitch.
I want to trust people, but it's hard.
Maybe it's just because I'm extremely insecure with myself, and I can't understand why anybody would actually enjoy me, beyond the fact that, I am a bitch.
I feel bad about it, but it's hard to stop. I'm afraid I'll lose people because of it.

Just Complaints

2006-11-30T23:24:00.000-08:00

The dashed line of the freeway or other motorway is so hypnotizing. It's almost telling you to go to Mexico. But why should we go to Mexico? I feel like going there almost any day I drive now. Is that because I want to get out? Perhaps, but why not else? Could it be that my little mind is demanding adventure, or perhaps is telling me that this is not the place for me right now? But why don't we listen more to our urges? Do what we want to, not what we are supposed to. Live like legends in the back of a car for a week and a half while we try to figure out just the perfect spot to watch the sun rise, only realizing that the best place was not a place, but right beside the person you love.

Say No to Suicide

2006-11-21T15:27:00.000-08:00

Does your computer ever make strange clicking sounds randomly? Kinda like it's doing something, but why would it be doing something when you haven’t touched it for a few hours? It makes me think that it is actually trying to see how far it can disable itself before it dies. Think about it. If you had to feelings, or fear of death then would you really mind tearing off your own arm to kinda, you know, see what happens? Well maybe not if you're doing fun things like playing a game, or writing a research paper or something equally entertaining. But what about those times when you're sitting there listening to some guy ramble on and on about something you don't really care about? That's when you start to get bored and you go, "Well, lets see how well I'd work with out that finger." And slowly slowly you start to take yourself apart until you finally die. I think my computer is doing that, and it frightens me. It looked at me... and I could feel its pain. It looks kinda cute, and it has ear that make sounds... but yes, I am sad and scared for it. I don't want it to hurt itself anymore...

See the cream color?

2006-11-16T18:38:00.000-08:00

So here I am, sitting infront of the family computer, knowing that well this really is a waste of time. Why? I dunno, I guess writing how I feel and think can't be a complete waste. But truely it feels like it. But that doesn't change the fact that I am still here, sitting and typing. Typing... typing... yes. That's all. Typing. But not even that, only, "typing." So here goes...

Yes, is that all it means? But who said it meant that? Perhaps it was just a cruel trick of the mind while we all settled out into a sharp pond of horror. But why yes? Okay, fine, no. No is just as good, much like a blunt baseball bat gets the same job done that you would use a knife or gun for. So, why? Why not? No, it is just why. We will get into "not" a little later. So yes, no, I mean why. Why is pointless, it comes from nowhere to lead somewhere equally interesting, just so we can all pretend we know exactly what we are supposed to be doing. So here we come to "not." But what is the use? it is almost as blunt as "no" and is just as useful as "why."

Sfeer Everything

2006-11-14T21:04:00.000-08:00

'twas the night before Christmas...

That line lacks sfeer. If there was a word for absence of sfeer it would describe that line.

What is sfeer? It is everything. Well not everything, but everything that makes an object special, the stuff that reminds you of smells and other sights when you see something. You have a sfeer, it might not be as big or as strong as others but it is there. Your sfeer manages quite a number of things, and is controlled by an equal number of things. Your sfeer controls electric currents, your sfeer changes with your mood, your sfeer will open doors for you, and at the same time your sfeer feeds off those around you.

The size of your sfeer does not always relate to its strength. There are sfeers that are absolutely massive but effect very little of anything in its surroundings. There are extremely small sfeers that you can not touch without fainting or getting a headache.

sfeer, n. The invisible element that effects and is affected by all of your surroundings, physical or otherwise

Poetic Justice

2006-11-10T00:26:00.000-08:00

What pain are you in, oh man of one thousand faces? What torments and annoys you so? Is it truly that horrible, that wretched a thing? Can you find the words just to describe it to me? Please I pray for you to just find a grip on yourself. Please never unleash such a demon at me. But what is it that bothers you so? Is it pain, is it suffering? How can you stand this life with one thousand faces? Were you promised a little peace in the end, but here you are still nowhere but a dead end? This is not life that bothers you so, but much rather your own vices and problems of your own. I see your pain but get away from me. I care not to suffer with a thief and a lord.

Free as Change

2006-11-05T23:31:00.000-08:00

Some times we just need to take a little fight out of our bodies, look at this space we inhabit and think. Leave all of this bullshit and nonsense behind as we think about what we really want, and who we really are. We need to get out more we need to leave it behind we need to be free. Free is such a beautiful thought that is really hard to comprehend unless you have an idea of what it is. (Or for that matter experienced it.) Let us be free, but what does that mean? To be free means that you have nothing holding you down, it means that you have nothing to worry about. Almost like you have nothing to think about. Being free means being removed from any limiters such as friends, family, morals, money, and other material things. No, not homelessness, although I'm sure they are much closer then your average Joe. Much more like, you would have no qualms with everything you have disappearing and you being naked in the woods. To be free you almost cannot have a job, which would more or less just ruin it. How can you be free when people think you will come in and do something everyday? So, more over to be free you need to eliminate others expectations of you. (Or better yet eliminate your care of meeting those expectations.)

Well I'm distracted so there is no way this writing can be good. Which I find absolutely strange since I rarely think of my writing for longer then it takes it to come out of my fingers anyways.

Just what you thought about my dog.

2006-11-02T15:34:00.000-08:00

Never worry just a thing about that gashing wound in my head, I never cared so much about a tiny speck of dust.
We'll never know just quite how this all ended in the end, because we're just trash drunk on vodka and seaweed.
Let the world know just what this pianful memory means, advertise it like a red hot segway, and let it die.
Always and forever, never and for neither, loving just what the thing wants us to, hoping for something better.
Killing just for fun, listening to the screams of some little tiny mushroom. We'll see it all and we'll meet Peter or Paul, but this life was not their making. Nothing lived quite as often as that little munchkin who told us all about traffic violations.
The shiney side is up when we leave to let the love inside, this is never how we were supposed to make it out without our lives.
Contemplating, thinking about you, knowing just how much it will hurt if it was always just something captain Kirk knew about.
The stars are never so violently beautiful as they are when they are exploding from your head, knowing all about Mr. Ned and the life of those who make a living.
Carefree is all the gum we choose to chew it up and spit it out of our way, right back into to this random camaro, whith parking lights made of cheer.
My mother lent me another little clip of things called salvation in a sip, getting drunk on vodka and snowflys, we know who dies, just let it out into this world of terms.
Blackberries made into pie is a never ending number of songs I'll listen to before you turn your back to the future and here we will be.
I hope that I never get to see the end, the middle, or even when you get out of bed, it's so painfully morbid a scene, my heart skips a beat with each little heart attack.
These lips don't belong here at all, reminding me of all those little times that was a quarter past three and we never really saw the sun falling down.

Lets Go

2006-10-26T18:44:00.000-07:00

You never really saw anything wrong with the world, like the homeless people, durg addicts and the suicidal.
For you everything always seemed so friggin peachy, it's no wonder that you're falling so hard.
Always smiling when this world was set to fail, you never seemed to get the picture.
So here we are in a room of the dead, you're decorating with flowers, I'm cleaning up the mess.
You never seem to see the wrong, only the right, and how you can get better.
Because you never see the homeless people, drug addicts or the suicidal.
All those little red flowers are really blood drops, dripping from the shot right above my heart.
You just think I'm sleeping and how cute I do look, there was never anything wrong in this world.
You're always hoping for the good times, always ignoring the bad, never really knowing just what everything means.
You seem so simple yet I know it takes some nuts to just be able to turn off the news, the violence, and the bloody guts.
There is no such thing as war, no crime called murder, sure there are accidents but never more then a broken finger.
You were always so blind, never seeing anything wrong, like the homeless people, drug addicts and the suicidal.
You've never been to a funeral, worn a black dress, or seen a coffin.
You've grown up in a perfect little world, where things don't go wrong, they just need a little fixing.
Here you go, this is your first sample, just a little taste called life, I'm leaving on a stretcher, and never coming back again.
I hope this is a wake up call that you just can't fix, and that you'll open up your eyes to all the homeless people, drug addicts and suicidals.

My body screams at me.

2006-10-25T17:48:00.000-07:00

How many senses do we have? Most would say five, touch, taste, sight, hearing, and smell. But why end there? You assume that each preceptor organ can only process one thing. But have you ever touched something with your eyes, seen something with your skin, or tasted with a part of your body you are not quite sure exists? I have.

Everything is so much more vivid when you allow your entire body to perceive each individual thing. Just sitting here I can hear with my skin as each key is pressed in. I can smell with my eyes, the humid scent of tofu. I can hear the texture of the wood, as I look at it. My senses are aware of most of my surroundings. The back of my head can see the room behind me, and I have no doubt that it is exactly the way it seems.

Yes.

2006-10-23T22:47:00.000-07:00

Smoking is a great way to get outside and enjoy the world.
Who need a brain? It only weighs you down.
My neck hurts, could you scratch it below the collar?
Why do we live just to die in the end?
Never trust and chipmonk.
I called it "Dangerous Time."
Monkeys never let me sleep.
Small!
I belong to a cult know as the "Double Hex Militia."
Let the wind fly into the window.

Love Machine

2006-10-17T22:32:00.000-07:00

Never ever wake up screaming, laying down and when you start dreaming.
Living for life, living for the end, realizing that this is not where you want to be.
We just made a time machine, just to see what happens in the end.
But in the end we just get lost, and never see tomorrow again, we never see tomorrow again.
You never believed what was to come, so we skipped right past it to the fall, just to realize that was shit, and we will never see tomorrow again.
Time machines don't work like you'd think, we can always go back but we can never change.
Just watch it all go by again, watching all of our stupid mistakes.
Going back is always just deja'vu, living it over, and crying together.
Time travel is just an excuse to see the end, remember the begining, and relive the good times.
Going back never hurt no one, until you never see tomorrow again, we'll never see tomorrow again.
Just let the time go by, forget the shit, try to go forward, 'til you can't remember it.
Love was always like a time machine, you will always miss tomorrow, you will always miss tomorrow.

Waking up in the Kitchen.

2006-09-29T13:26:00.000-07:00

My eyes are closed, but I can tell I'm not in a sleeping place, such as my bed or one of my favorite couches. The ground is hard below me, linoleum I think, not carpet and I'm not outside. Perhaps I'm in the kitchen. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, I can see part of the refridgerator, and one of the dining room chairs. This doesn't feel quite right, why am I lying here in the kitchen as is I took a nap here? Well I was reading my book over in the next room, perhaps I fell asleep and slept walked over here before I finally gave up finding a bed. No, that feels much to wrong, I've never slept walked, I've rarely even talked in my sleep. Alright, well I'm still on the ground. And it still lacks a whole lot of correctness. My head doesn't hurt, well no more then that headache that I've had for about two weeks now would cause. None of my body parts hurt at all either. Now that I think of it it was the sound of me hitting the chair that woke me up. So I must have collapsed. But why? Pieces are slowly reassembling, yes, I was reading, and I got up to go into the kitchen, and as I got closer, I started to get light-headed and everything began to go dark. I put my hand on the wall to brace myself, and then I can feel the floor underneath me. But how long have I been down here, I think I heard myself hit the chair, but there could have been some blackout time in between. My watch says 2:15, good, I stopped reading at 2:14 I remember that much. I guess I should probably get up.

I Forgot A Title

2006-09-25T21:39:00.000-07:00

There it is, just slightly to the left, no, I mean right. Okay, good, you got it. Well now that you have found it I guess I might as well tell you what you have found. The thing you are holding in your hand as we sit here is my very own Enderblimium. Yes that is correct, I have found a safe method of extracting it from within my soul without causing my mind to melt. The trick is to not let it see you coming at it with the rusty pliers... Now you might be wondering what on earth an Enderblimium does for you. Well, not much is the answer. I have had an Enderblimium for almost 12 years now and it has never once caused me any pain, or done me any good for that matter. It is exactly what it looks like, a pinkish sort of ooze, which is constantly changing shape, but never gaining a new form. And having some pinkish ooze, that is constantly changing shape, but never gaining a new form, in your soul really isn't all that useful. But it is not a handicap either. So you may ask me why I took the liberty to remove it. And well, in return all I can say is, why not? It must be useful in some way other then just taking up valuable non-space in my soul. Perhaps I can harvest some sort of enery from it, or maybe even saute it in such a way that it would taste like some baby animal. Or maybe it is the key to mind control, and now that I have it I can go about taking over the universe... no? Well that's too bad... Well since you're leaving, could you perhaps leave it right behind that box of Gloober-muffins, on top of the Shrillinkiddle. I'll get around to discovering it's uses some other day.

So much for promptness

2006-09-23T21:53:00.000-07:00

Well do I really feel like writing an update? I sit here and I ponder the thought of thinking about writing an update, and, well, the ponder becomes a desicion, which becomes the idea which becomes the thought, and here I am typing, so I guess, yes, I do want to write an update.

Now I look at the last sentence and I realize how much I actually like to use commas. Why? I don't rightly know, maybe it was one of my high school teachers that drove it into my head, that commas are not scary and can be used in a fashion to greatly enhance your writing ability. So perhaps I now have it hard wired in my brain that more commas equals better writing.

Morbid Angst

2005-12-30T22:24:00.000-08:00

I don't know what to write I just know I should and I know I'm upset.

Sometimes I just want to cry, cry for this life cry for my lonliness.
It's so tough knowing you're gonna be gone, then wasting away the little time you have.
It's painful, so painful it makes you want to hurt something.
But that's just what it wants you to do, give in to the pain, give in to your will.
Why should I let my emotions govern my actions?
Listening to little voices in my head would leave me a bloody mess, laying in the blood of those around me.
Such pain, such power, such a will to kill.
It hurts with every beat, every painful beat.
Is it really easier to end it all, to just give up and fuck off?
Why am I still here, time ticks and I sit and wait for the explosion.
I want to paint with blood, I want to feel their pain.

Shut the Fuck Up.

2005-12-16T16:05:00.000-08:00

There is a really really big picture and we are but little dots in the far top left corner. The dots that we are, however, are so small that we would easily be mistaken for cheetahs or even buffalo. And as we pan outward we see that it is not the only picture on the wall, but a collection of millions. Some of these pictures look very similar, and infact many of them are more then likely identical. But who cares?

Murin

2005-12-09T23:09:00.000-08:00

I have no use for time.

In the complete history of clocks there are only three that stand out as truly remarkable clocks, however, if you were to include watches as clocks there would be many more. Today we will focus primarily on the three clocks. Enjoy.

Clock #1: The Polish Foot Clock, Shmuntirple
Shmuntirple was made by a poor farm boy that lived in southern Turkey in the late 1870's. The design represents that of many Polish Foot Clocks, but what sets Shmuntriple apart is its use of common household items in very remarkable ways. The entire hulirt gear has been replaced with a full size violin, although this effects the crank-shaft of the riddit chain, this was by passed by also including a live chicken in place of a dulent. (The current chicken in Shmuntirple is a descendant of the original.) You can find Shmuntirple in the Swiss National Museum of Trinkets and Bovine.

Clock #2: The Canadian Mossewich, Jurji
Jurji comes from the Arabic word that has nothing to do with "Smooth Movement" and it shows amazingly in its design. Jurji was created in the year 2003 by Canadian scientists in search of a way to keep the ice in their freezers from melting at 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Although the Scientist did not accomplish what they set out to do they did engineer a clock that uses a series of math equations to figure out the time in 31 seconds and then subtract 31 seconds to find the current time. Many people believe this is the first step to successful time travel. You can find Jurji at the Canadian Museum of Below Freezing Numbers and Thing They Create.

Clock #3: Murin
Close to nothing is known about Murin. Murin was found in an old garage of a man named Schmirkims Oswald. He claimed it was a coo-coo clock but when the time reached the hour nothing happened. This is a very bizarre phenomenon and can still be witnessed to this day. There have been extensive studies on the cause of this but none have come to a definite answer. Some say that Murin is actually a sign from god. Others say that every hour Murin sends a mysterious race of aliens a signal, reporting the happenings of earth. Today you can't actually see Murin; it is in a top secret holding facility somewhere south of Gnome Alaska.

Let Me Out

2005-12-08T01:35:00.000-08:00

Slice my wrists as they catch on the barbed wire
Bleeding as I sit here waiting for you
I see that you never cared, you never cared
So now I'm just left here waiting
Left here dying, I'll always be waiting for you

I wake up with no one beside me, ever beside me
Always looking for you, always waiting for you
My head has never hurt so much
Why do I even put up with your shit?
Why am I left waiting for a girl that never was quite there?

Left for dead I lay here dreaming of a perfect world
Pizza for breakfast with you at the table
Why am I waiting? I've already found the perfect world
This dream is so torturous as I wake up and hurt my head
What’s the point in waiting for someone who isn't there?

Find me a poet and I'll write you one thousand words
Find me a cockroach and my love will last forever
You can't kill a cockroach, but poets die for fun
I've never known life until I you made it unbearable
I've never seen the light until you left me in the dark

Never leave me out again; the rain eats at my soul
Its not much more the a damp crumbling cookie
Mice won't come near as I drown my sorrows in blood
I'm as dry as a muffin, never tasted but thrown out
For a perfect world you seem so dead, too dead

How can you live this life with no Idea of who I am?
Can you please at least morn my infinite passing?
I may not be gone but you'll be around forever
Never let my name fade with you diamond tears
Always let me pas you by never let me stay

Blank White

2005-12-04T14:13:00.000-08:00

As I sit here staring at my blank white ceiling,
Why am I existing in this melencholy world of mortals?
Day to pointless day watching disgustingly happy people walk to and fro.
I ask for Heaven,
Heaven has no need for someone as dangerously undetermined as I.
I settle for Hell,
Hell doesn't want anybody with such adimintine thoughts that I posses.
I live in this world,
This world of death and decay,
This world of hope and joy.
Here I am forever abandoned in this lonely paradise.
Is there nothing I shouldn't desire here?
Nothing I should not want?
My ancient life is in this world of newborns,
I struggle everyday to keep my miserable place,
As I wrestle with wanting to fly.
I am friendly.
I am deadly.

Sweet Ireland

2005-12-02T16:53:00.000-08:00

Sweet Ireland, sweet Ireland
May you be forever beauty, forever mine
My Ireland, my love, you'll always be in my thoughts
Tears for rain, an embrace like that of warm spring
Ireland never let me leave your arms, keep me in your heart
A breeze of sweet whispers, eyes like the lush green hills
You are my own, my sweet Ireland

The Walk

2005-11-28T20:05:00.000-08:00

Table lamp snow shade,
Turned on for its enemy,
Lighting the way of the cigarette,
It burns with the sting of alcohol,
Making things ever so enjoyable.

Star mirrored ponds,
Flicker with the slightest drop,
The blood is from a raven,
Dark in flight,
We run from ourselves.

Little brown outlines,
Around a delicate hand,
Caressing an ever-sharp blade,
Shimmering in the moonlight,
Illuminating the way home.

The Toast

2005-11-26T23:10:00.000-08:00

These are the toasts for the wanderers
The men and women without a place
The ones who seek out the truth
Whether in their soul or on their path

This toast is for the searchers
Those who are in a constant hunt
May your goal always be but a step away,
And your eyes never grow dull

This toast is for the oracles
Those who can see more then they choose
May your path forever be seen,
And your feet never question your mind

This toast is for the warriors
Those who tend toward a good fight
May your journey tend toward battle,
And your sword never miss your mark

This toast is for the travelers
Those who wish to see the world
May your views constantly be exquisite,
And your path never lead to harm

This toast is for the poets
Those who harness the pen
May your script eternally tell of joys,
And your grief never entrap you

These are the toasts to the wanderers
The men and women without a place
May you ever be able to find the truth
And grace forever guide you on your path

Near Life Experiences

2005-11-23T11:37:00.000-08:00

As I walk home it hits me. I suddenly feel as if I'm walking through sea of syrup. Breathing gets just as hard. Every breath I take only makes my legs move so slow. Everything is slow motion now, except my thoughts, and the surronding world. I'm being left behind, the world moves and I stand still, what is going on? Oh that’s right, this is life, it only happens once. And as I am stuck in this thick tar the rest of the world zooms by, wasteing all their preciuos breathes and heartbeats on some meaningless task or another. And here I am, wasting my time twice as fast, and tripping over myself because of it. This is our only chance, you can't go back. I've told myself hundreds of times, live to be alive. But why am I not doing it? How many people go through life without appriciating it? How many people have never seen death and walked away to live? Not nearly as many as should. When you are about to kill yourself and turn away, you gain another view of life. But it is still far better if something almost kills you. You can control yourself, you can't control fate. How would you react if you almost burned to death? How would you live if you knew you were about to die? Would you care? Only about things that truly deserved it. The fact is, not a lot of people know our mortality, and it kills them. Literally.

Photoliftus

2005-11-20T23:04:00.000-08:00

I have nothing new to write, my senses are void of emotion. I am at the giant wall, once called photoliftus, but now it stands there, blank and hideous. As I confront this wall I am frightened, not by the shear expanses of it, but much more the void of details it creates. This is no ordinary wall, it has been known to eat artists who venture too close. And now here I am, on the edge, questioning all of my work before this point. This wall is not just an end, but it is the deciding point between art, and mechanical logic. On either side is the fruit of the imaginations of millions, but if you look closely you can see the faces of thousands of expressionless persons, perfectly content with their spot on the wall. No. I will not become one, even if it means losing my mind to keep my art, sacrifices will be made, but I will never sacrifice my freedom of thought.

The Big Deal

2005-11-17T22:19:00.000-08:00

Have a good day all you mother fuckers! Why are we even hanging out in this dump still? We never did have a proper pad and you house certainly isn't much better. Anywho I was thinking we move this entire operation down to the warehouses, you know, the ones that have the murals on the side. Anyway once we get there we need to start dealing with some real shit. Not just the cookies we're used to. A big thing is we get rid of all these middle men, just up and make them "disappear", if you get what I mean. Take 'em for a nice long walk. Next we don't use any phones, every time you say "Bomb" or any of the like, a little light turns on somewhere. We have the numbers to make this go down, but we'll need fire power too. I can get us a shipment of Glocks and AKs, everyone keep a Glock on you and we're going to keep the AKs around the warehouse. We don't ever refer to each other or the base. You will only know your bothers, and sister, by the name of an animal of their choice, no one else will know this name, not family or friends, not even the girl you fuck every night. This shit will work, and if even a single one of you feels like screwing the rest of us over. I will personally remove you're kidneys, along with any other organs I see fit.

No, the other Logan

2005-11-15T10:10:00.000-08:00

Nobody really knows me; there are so many different levels to me. Sure there are many people that think they know who I am, But does everyone know the Logan that feels like torturing people and sentencing them to slow death. Or the Logan who plays with kittens and other small fuzzy animals. Or even the Logan that wants to get so messed up he won't even remember how to walk. Sure there are all these Logans, but how many of them do you know? There are even more I haven’t found, or that I'm hiding from the world.

Today marks my two-month count down, I'm a little lost though. I still have to make contact with a lot of people and start pulling everything together. Right now I don't even have any of my travel visas set up. And it really looks like I won't be able to get them processed until I get over seas. This is definitely going to be an interesting trip. Full of new stuff, I'm going to learn a lot.

Death in Eyesight

2005-11-07T22:01:00.000-08:00

An alternative for suicide. I don't plan on coming back; I've already begun thinking about all my stuff to give away. It all makes so much sense as of late. When I planned this trip I was suicidal, the trip is insanity, dangerous, and apparently I hope I don't make it. It's been an underlining emotion for way to long, dormant as to my perception. I never put it into my thoughts but it's always been there, hiding, trying to evade my detection, and the detection of others. I've just now seen it, through my depression, through my plans, through my thoughts. I've always said that I wanted to be gone for longer, who would have thought longer meant forever? I now see places in my trip where I will get killed for the money that I have, I will get killed for just the supplies you'll be able to recover off of my dead body. And does that scare me? Nope, I know these things and I'm not afraid because I've been wanting to die. This sounds horrible, but is it really that far off from the truth?

I need something to come back to, something to drive me through insanity and depression. But what do I have? Nothing. I feel like there is nothing for me. I don't know what there is.

French Toast

2005-11-05T09:08:00.000-08:00

Chicken noodle, French poodle.
All my life I've been breathing, not bleeding.
Never having an end to call home, never having a place to call home.

Apple pie, people lie.
Forever will I be wandering, not waiting.
I don't care where we go, I don't know where we go.

Grilled steak, my mistake.
Eternity comes with a great ordeal, not order.
Sometimes I just want to be myself, sometimes I just want to kill myself.

Hot dog, floating log.
Hell is for all those bastards, not bathtubs.
War will help us love each other, war will help us destroy each other.

Tripping on Life

2005-10-26T23:40:00.000-07:00

People ask me about my trip, so I tell them about it. I'm going around the world, starting in Ireland and finishing in Japan. I tell them how long it is going to take and, if they ask, the order in which I'm going to visit all the countries. Most people get excited, as if they were going to be right there with me, and then they ask how I feel about it. When they here my answer I think they hate me more then any one thing they have ever known. My answer is this: I am absolutely disgusted by my trip. For most people they need to know why, mainly because they are much more excited about it then I am, and my only answer is: I don't know. When I say that I'm usually laughing, only because I can actually hear myself, but due to the laughing people don't know if they should take me seriously or not.

Who knows, it may not be my trip, it may just be my life. But truly where does one stop and the other begin? It seems as if my trip is becoming my life, and quite frankly in less then three months it will be my life. Maybe I'm in a transit period, one where I still hate my old life but my new life has yet to start producing things that I should appreciate.

Then again I could be looking at this all wrong... maybe I am really just lonely, maybe I realize this and also realize that by going on this trip I'm going to be lonely for the next six months of my life. Maybe I don't want to go around the world by myself, perhaps I am actually afraid of it. This could be a little voice inside me saying that I still fear the end, whichever end I may create. Maybe this is suicide.

Never and Ever Again

2005-10-23T20:17:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I can hardly believe myself. Sometimes I can hardly look at my future.
It is always painful. It is always a challenge to take another step.
Never let me out of your sight. Never let me be alone.
All those blunt forces make me feel at home. All I want is another hit to the head.

Lodge Your Complaints

2005-10-20T11:07:00.000-07:00

Just stand by yourself, stand with yourself.
I'll be in the corner, bleeding as you twist the dagger.
You look right through me, while I stare right at you.
But all you ever cared about is yourself, yourself.

Do you even remember those nights, those hideous nights?
Curled up with you, now I'm curled up with my bloody sheets.
But you never cared about me, you are the world.
Maybe some other time you'll see me for who I am, I am

The pain is there and won't leave, please leave.
My heart beats like a clock, blood with every tic.
But now I give up, you'll just walk away.
I was just a sprinkle of rain, of rain.