Wednesday, September 29, 2010


into the night
the light
purple scene
i want to lie in a bed shrouded by candles

where the windows open up to city lights

yes, you know -the whole typical dream.

once drove all over San Francisco
with Sole blaring out of the speakers
you know,
you remember
the album where he samples Portishead & Tricky
yea that one
well, anyway
we drove all over those hills
us in awe of the lyrical violence that we were hearing
and we had so many damn dreams back then
that involved that two of (us)
working together
making shit happen.

and we did for quite some time.
was a good run.

but I remember that city
the air was something strong in my lungs
there was no need for the air conditioner
we rolled the windows down
to take it in.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010


Still on my Kerouac Kick and i'm done with the biography that showed his true side
a racist, an alcoholic, a haunted homo, a hot boy, a womanizer, a pathetic guy,
a god (yes still), a sad, sad, sad man who never got the chance to love his lover back
because it was the 40's/50's/60's even and man, you just didn't do that kind of shit.
unless you were strong.
still the black headed writer was a force
and i am intrigued beyond belief
even though
i know a lot of his secrets.
He kept a "sex list" where he would list every man and woman he had slept with along with the number of times he had slept with them...
this list included fame whore Allen Ginsberg, junkie William Burroughs, fucked up Neal Cassady, beauty Diane DiPrima, and even -yes even a quiet, quick "frisk" in the bathroom with the brilliant Salvador Dali.
Kerouac had his lovers-and i'm talking possibly even in the hundred(s)...
but then after all the sex in the 40's and 50's
he stopped for a brief time to live on some mountains where he even refrained from masturbating so that he could find his inner "self", his "buddha"...
while dreaming of the Dharma, he wrote some books on the Dharma
but then fell off the "enlightenment" wagon
and then became a Republican
who wore boring tweed suits and coffee stained ties.
He believed in the war, in racism, and that Jews should be murdered.
And all this bad stuff about him
does not make me like him any less.
I don't know exactly why
but I always have to factor in the era that he lived in...
it was a fucked up time.
But I'm not making any excuses for him-
he could have been a clean, radical
who believed in freedom, free love, and was antiantianti
but instead he despised the Hippie Generation and even loathed the Beat Generation
simply because
he was jaded fellow
who's books took often 5,6,7,8,9, even 10 + years to be published.

By the time "On the Road" was published in 1957,
he hated his own ideals.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

13 days

and counting.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010


This song
I could listen to this song
100 times in a row
400 times in a row
it's so good you forget that it's even playing
(does that make sense?)
it just starts to blend into the background of your life
as you lie in bed
and look up to the ceiling of words that you placed above
to possibly inspire you
or help calm you
during a frantic night
this song
I could listen to this song
when you were in my arms
so young back then
humming along to the words you didn't know
young love
youthful love is frightening because there is nothing like it
ever again
it's there and will never come back
this song
I could listen to this song
on long drives
to Big Sur
and back again
this song
I could listen to this song
and take the drugs that fucked with our
lungs again
this song
I could listen to this song
and rip my teeth out
because there is nothing more perfect to do at a moment when you feel that no sound could be more beautiful.

125 Grand Ave.

there is this uncertain quality in the air lately...
i'm trying to understand it as I wake up everyday//
don't know where it's going
don't know where it's coming from

the same form is the form of yesteryears

I was a kid when I moved to Long Beach
living off of canned tomato sauce and dry noodles,
Fiona Apple and Magnolia,
jazz biographies and expired phone cards.

I would ride all over the city
with my headphones strapped
holding my cd player as if it was a gun
to my side to my side to my side
holding the notes clenched to my ribs

sometimes a note that she would hit
would make me cry
as i pedaled down hills
the tears climbing down my face

i was not frantic back then
i was inspired
but calm

(i knew time would come)

And then the fires destroyed the land in '03
and the ash came out of the sky
covering us all as we walked outside
my bike
my bike
my arms
my ribs
turning into rust

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

big sur.

and all the clay souls
were with us that day
we decieded
on a small whim
to make the magical drive to Big Sur
i wanted to see the blue
and you wanted to show me too
because i had never been

sweater in hand
the cd's (John Frusciante and Tycho)
i was obsessed with that one record
during that time
my heart had been broken
and it seemed so romantic to listen to John's wails
getting lost somewhere in that wind

we drove and hardly stopped
took no caution
and you guided
i had to switch seats because you knew the mountains

and when we finally did stop
all i remember
as i stepped out,
was almost falling to my knees
the sight was so beautiful
nothing had ever made me cry before
purely from sight
but this blue,
this blue had never touched me before
i was it
and it was i
and i stood there,
arms wrapped around nothing
in tears
humbled by this existence
mourning already that i would have to leave it.

we stared off into the cliff
was the purest song
we could ever learn to sing that day
that day
that day was our hymn
we were religious
that night
as we dove into
each other's skin

i read you like the final pages
of any scripture
i could understand

Thursday, September 2, 2010


i'm trying really hard to look at the big picture here.

to keep it in mind at all times,
so as not to get overwhelmed
so as not to give up.

i'm feeling very anxious this morning
i want to take medicine that does not belong to me
i want to forget
i want to just sleep.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010



(clear the throat)

uh hummmmmmmmmmmm

yes i think i love you.

You, you September

you are all things clearing

you, you

you are all things worth taking chances for

you, you

prove to be worshiped.

don't let me down.