BEING BORED WITH PERFECTION IS MY GREATEST DOWNFALL

i'm not sure who i'm writing for anymore; i want to live more to write more to understand more to feel more.  i want to write with something more in mind; some total nonsense that even i can't determine the structure of or fixate a connection with the outside world; which exists purely inside of me, from mouth to mouth, tongues over and under, ear to neck to fingertips, hollowing out what's inside and tossing it to the page in a legible manner; i need and i don't need this.

i'm just curious what you're talking about over coffee with her, if indeed there is a her or a he, if indeed you are drinking coffee.  and i wonder who or what is causing friction in your brain whenever you move.  i wonder if you smoke cigarettes regularly now.  tell me, what makes you want to breathe, what sounds make you want to dance, and if you're eating three meals a day.  i hope you've taken the time to appreciate the night sky and the total absence of light pollution.  tell me about the books you've read this year, if indeed you've read a good book this year.  explain what self discoveries you've discovered in an attempt to find your bliss in the discovery.  i wonder how you enjoy spending your sunday afternoons; are you nursing a hangover from the night before? or do you wake up early to create something on paper or on a guitar? i'm curious about what you love as of late.

i spend my time cursing about the pain in my eyes and i spend my time wondering if this is an appropriate use of my time.

I HAD SOME WINE

think it

create it

give it

take it

touch it 

hold me

shut it

lock it

fuck it

take it

close it

empty it

throw it

sing me something 

tell me something you're thinking under there

every detail 

how have you been

i think that i cant spend more time her e in this car

the problem lies in the way your face changes. in the way that it will never be the same as it was and it never was the same as it is.

WHILE WE'RE FLOATING IN SIESTAS

what am i doing? applying lipstick. drinking a coffee with ice because the spanish heat could kill. i'm listening to the kind of music that's been on my computer forever, but is always ignored. maybe to discover some hidden gem

give me one day to breathe in an extravagant cityscape
investigate, create
conundrums in space and discussing how to manage what's on my plate, heLP?

my hair is drying
the lifeguard is crying
that wasnt even intentional rhyming
but i think it might be true. to my left out the window and there he is. wiping his arm from left to right across his face, but maybe it's his brow. it's hard to tell in spain if it's sweat or tears

let's just have a drink and we can discuss the sweat and tears of our nations
and now my words are beginning to sink under my skin, so you eat my afflictions

you know what i think of you, nine eight seven two two seven five one three three three twelve?
i think you are going to die sad and die alone some day and not understand why. but what did you expect. thanks for listening now, you were nice for a very long while, but you left me underneath in the sea and now im disposing of your ghost here, in the abyss, along with the other creatures of the night

THE MAGIC HOURS

[drinks coffee at table. leonard cohen's "suzanne" plays a bit too quietly. the light is off. the windows are flushed with white. curtains, lacy. pours into a mug. slides silently across table. deep breath.]
--
tell me what you are. what swims in your brain. what fish do you most closely identify with? have you spent past sundays sleeping in a lawn chair in your grandparent's front yard? is there a lake nearby covered in cattails? have you ever stolen alcohol from your parents? would they care or could you have just asked? who encouraged you to smoke your first cigarette? are you still in contact with this person today? do you wash your hair every day? or just use water? do you believe in always locking the door? what sounds do you hear when you fall asleep at night? what do you see when you close your eyes? how far away are your feet from your head? how far away is your head from the present? what age changed you the most? i never want to stop growing. do you feel satisfied? do you feel perfect the way you are? are you afraid that a new experience will change you and you will miss your old self? do you believe in society?  have you ever felt really sad? do you believe in a future? do you care about saving ourselves from extinction?

[moves from kitchen table to sofa]
--
how do you feel about this sofa? do you think maybe it would get too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter, this leather? how many people have you kissed that you didnt really want to kiss in retrospect? have you ever hurt anyone's heart before? do you believe in love? in trees? in the summertime? do you notice the colours of the sky? the waves in water? the breeze through the window? can you see constellations? do you believe in astrological horoscopes? do you have any allergies because i love peanut butter. how do you like to eat your popcorn? have you ever been really good at something? what is your favorite thing to do outside? do you like to count when you cant sleep? do you like to count at all? what is your favorite set of the multiplication tables? say the first word that comes to mind when i say: sex. gin. mutation. mutilation. did you ever try to talk underwater? did you ever think you were in love with someone? do you prefer the day or the night? do you prefer to think about your own sadness or someone else's sadness? when did you stop believing in santa claus? what country is the favorite country of all the countries you have ever traveled to? do you think there is a place for you here? when you are alone what does your brain talk to you about? from what experience have you learned the most? do you usually use the elevator? would you prefer to break someones heart or have your heart broken? when is the time you felt the happiest? do you think youll ever feel that happy again?

[shift]
--
i think you talk too much. you smile too much when you dont mean it. you laugh when you feel sorry.  you laugh because you want me. you're not here for the right reasons. you're here to psychoanalyze someone to see if they are crazy enough to satisfy you. you listen to classical music when you're studying because that's what your mum told you to do. now it just makes you miss her. why do you want to cry every time you have to study? i am human. you are human. we are all fucked up humans destroying the world one synchronized breath at a time. im stealing your oxygen right now. im fucking up your heart right now. because youll finally have found someone you feel safe enough about your mental state with and i wont want you in return. ill never want you. that's who i am. i dont remember feeling sad. i dont remember feeling happy. i am in the here, and the now, and i dont want to kill you, but if you could just slide over here, and i can create a diagram of your ashes so maybe i can piece my mind back together again with ur brain paste

BOOK OF LONGING

i dont remember lighting this cigarette and i don't remember if i'm here alone or waiting for someone

THANKS SPANISH AMERICAN GIRL WHO TAUGHT ME SOMETHING SO INTRIGUING

a few days ago i spoke with an american (in person) for the first time in nearly two months. it was an eleven year old girl from spain who has lived in the US for two years. so i wouldn't even say 'american' but while speaking with her, without previous knowledge, it would have fooled me. but how insightful, what a relief that i didn't even know i needed, if even for just a moment.  her intonation. the pragmatics. proxemics. pauses. the rhythm. gestures. the closure. these are things i never totally took notice or made an account of when speaking at home. though all of my friends from spain are fluent in english, these are things i never noticed that they lack. i am completely comfortable speaking with them and never feel  the need to alter my vocabulary or simplify my sentences. but these are moments in which culture and language are intertwined. and while they are fluent in english, they will never be 'culturally' american neither will i ever be 'culturally' spanish. and even if i became as fluent as i  could ever possibly become, these small but so obviously different cultural aspects reveal everything i could never hide

dammit! i want to live every culture and every language wholly

2 MONTHS IN MADRID IN ORDER TO FEEL BRAVE

today marks the beginning of a new experience! something i have needed desperately! sure that i have lived since may 18 again in stockholm (but mostly for resuming old friendships and saying hello again to a city that i am enamored by..) but now, here, today, tonight, this moment! i am living in madrid! until the middle of August! joder! JODER!

i never write things of this nature here. but now that i am living alone (again, as per usual) after a month and a half of living with an insane (albeit wonderful) spaniard, i have access to quiet thoughts again and feel it's necessary to write again (due to the utter lack of someone to share each moment with)

a ver here is the deal. part 1: tomorrow, i will wake up. topple through a toddlers room (given up for me!) dodging suitcases, articles of clothing, random cosmetics strewn across the counter.... and go to the supermarket with my host mum. her english is the same level as my spanish (almost nothing) pues. this is what i need. i need to be uncomfortable. i need to feel

discomfort in being so comfortable. i dont know when i got so comfortable in my life and it is something that i furiously detest. GIVE ME SOMETHING MORE! THROW ME INTO A SOCIETY WHERE I KNOW AND UNDERSTAND ALMOST NOTHING! GIVE ME A METRO MAP TO A CITY I CANT PRONOUNCE ANY OF THE NAMES OF! FORCE ME TO ORDER A COFFEE IN A LANUGAGE I STRUGGLE PROFOUNDLY WITH! FORM RELATIONSHIPS WITH THREE CHILDREN WHO DONT SPEAK ENGLISH! LEARN TO COMMUNICATE IN WAYS MORE MEANINGFUL THAN WORDS! I WANT TO FEEL BRAVE AGAIN!!  FEEL ALIVE!! UNTO THE UTTERMOST, I AM STILL ALIVE!!!!!!!

part 2: i will go pick up three children from school in a car in a city that isnt mine. hola hola hola hola hola niñas lokisimas

part 3: we will go swimming y learn and feel sufficient.

part 4: dinner and drinks with aitor and lucia in the city.

i am so damn happy about this process. challenge and knowledge come to me.

THE ACT OF MOVING MINDLESSLY

pt 1
to just exist doesnt hurt
to be elegantly suspended in air
floating within a golden bubble, arms outstretched, head thrown back and im flying again
the pain comes when an encounter occurs.

the collision of bodies, minds, mouths, desires

i would like to remain golden forever. suspended, untouched, ethereal

for so long, that what damage you had caused becomes nothing but a canyon far below. filled with whiskey, cigarettes, polaroids and letters

pt 2
im scared becasue i can tell that i have become too comfortable. i dont need small thrills anymore to feel alive. because before i would have done anything to feel the cold water enveloping me and filling my senses with something fresh. to sink into something so profound, pure, so soft. pulling my head underneath the surfae and focusing all of my attention on breathing. i would have done anything in an attempt to find something to fill the void. to undestand that, indeed, i am still alive. i am still capable of feeling. i am not totally numb to the world for this instant. to figure out that it is possible to feel alive without you.

but now i wouldnt even jump in and i miss living life like i absolutely need to feel alive or i will just curl up and die. i need it so bad

ABOUT SPACE TIME AND I AM TRAPPED

suddenly awake. and beside a stranger. in an unfamiliar bed. mysteriously new city, according to the surroundings maybe the east coast. the wallpaper is a modern pixelated bit of color. white and blue but tries to be vintage

and for the first seconds "where the fuck am i"

look to the mirror. it is my face my hands are old my wrinkles have taken over eyes tired mouth sad

"how did i get here"  "who the fuck are you"

go downstairs. see a man, maybe twenty, at the table with breakfast.

the objects in the house are absolutely different from anything ever seen before. they seem to serve the same purpose and function but their appearance is something new. the only thing that appears to be the same as before is nature. the setting from the trees and grass. the sky has clouds, a sun, birds. dirt is brown. leaves are green

search for answers. "who is this man at the table" "whose table" "in what city" "whose house" "who did i wake up next to""what am i doing here"

first thought. search for the library

"there, the people cannot judge me for not understanding a computer or computeresque object. it is impossibel here to ask questions without raising suspicion among these 'housemates' more or less. are they my family.  do they think i am their family. am i in love with this man. is this my son. i am not in love with this man. does he think i am in love with him. could i, in actuality, love him. i need answers now. i am absolutely not crazy" this cannot be real.

leave. must. leave. leave this job. house. family. city. life. this is not mine. this cant be mine. i am twenty years old and i woke up as a 50 year old. this cannot be. must find the path home. i dont love these people. i need answers

search
questions
help
but im not insane
rejection
help
discussion
hospitals
no answers
but now i AM insane
dream????? with gun
suicide

NORMAN

some classy and elegant affection
i sit on the sofa under a blanket when the bloomin microwave begins to speak to me about rain barrels
i am half awake in the backseat next to a pile of books and the car is treating me like a roller coaster scaling the ocean painted sky
and i realize the depth in which cities are built like bodies
these similarities in structure becoming most evident in the obliteration of the human

i used cranium mouthwash to forget about the excavation of your eye sockets. to forget about the damage from the astroids, the flames, the flooding, the nuclear disasters and each death. to forget about the newfound prominence and the contour of your nose and cheeks. to forget about the crumbling and decaying cityscape. as the sky above becomes more evident

you told me about an orange tree in california
and miscalculating the mileage and mistracking the distance
and posing for a photograph, you drove the car into the Great Salt Lake
so you slept outside

i think ultimately i will glow into you

MY SLEEPING DESIGNS

throughout the day placing you delicately aside. as if this matters now. as if this mattered. you might be empty and i think you might be arduous. there's nothing of you here anymore and i dont care about the odd numbers.
and one would think, after meticulously parading through my consciousness all day, you could, for my sake and yours, take the nights off. breathe, expand, dream, expand
but here you persist. right here. right in my stupid dreams. asleep with the paralysis of stupid sleep thoughts. i prefer to think it is astral projection, but i can only let my imagination take us so far. and it's not because i have nothing to say, i have lots of things. and it's not because i don't have anything to feel, because i have plenty of that too.
it's just that it's so sure that you are here. i awake, and at once, no longer. and from there, i don't know what my mornings mean at all anymore.
i have so many concerns. how do you even get in there. we're not in communication, we're beyond the limitations of our senses; my nerve endings are disconnected, the vibrations in our eardrums are enigmatic. and actually, i can't even be sure that you exist anymore. so i am wondering, what determines my sleep thinks? i'm wondering what aspects of you are most prevalent and most obvious to my dreaming state. i wonder if i remember things when i'm asleep that i have no conscious recollection of.
most of all, i could sleep better if you just weren't around. and speaking of, everything i dream is too vivid that i am sleeping terribly and i think it is because when i'm inside them, i'm so happy. isn't that scary? just give me some rest or something.

THE STRUGGLE TO LOCALIZE

just some things i've been thinking of
the way honey reacts in cold water, strung out like veins in my apricot tea, and i can watch it solidify in the glass. its own free form, something like golden lightening in my drink.
the rate of reaction from ice into steaming water. instantaneously cracks, pops, shrinks. it takes so many to overpower the heat.
the patterns of incense. smoke swirling and swimming in the air. thickening, smoothing out. dancing for me
driving alone, downing coffee, screaming lyrics where conor oberst has completely lost it and i begin to feel ive completely lost it too. the way the sun feels, the way the wind feels coming in the window, the way i can yell at passerbyers so that maybe they can lose themselves too


to be continued
everything is really wonderful and i want everyone to see it in the simplest details.

ELEGANCE

tu eres sonido puro.

OCTOBER 2011

a thing i wrote a few days after ending a four year relationship. this is what i meant by wanting to go around living as a raw nerve again. the vividness in life during times of incredible vulnerability are incomparable.

" i guess i'm just glad that i'm here
still alive
still breathing
i've never been so aware
of my surroundings
of my movements
of my feelings
i've never been so aware that i am a living breathing human
i've never felt so much all at once
i want to feel weightless again
everything back into place
feel secure
i don't know what the fuck i'm doing
but i'm taking one day at a time
and for now
it's working "

there's nothing interesting in the writing. it's not good writing. it was just pure. and i miss feeling so pure. i discovered so much of myself in those few months of destruction and lived so alone and yet so completely and so on edge and so unexpectedly. i've just recovered now, moved on, grown up, and transformed into a much less naïve member of society. i've leveled out. i don't want to feel so level. i prefer to be striving for something every day. self improvement, learning, growth.  appreciating experiences in such a way because i knew how badly i needed those experiences. holding onto my friends for dear life. getting lost in my car. screaming. feeling some kind of hatred which can only come from loving someone too much. don't know. just want to grow. i want a process to focus on.

A BIOGRAPHY

im sniffin glue
missing you
in my prison suite
my revisionist alphabet soup
spells out your initials, cute
noodles bamboozle in a language thats truthful
but my words are just human
my verbiage is dooming
me to walk these streets
and fly these kites
and cliche beats
and fuck those eyes
until im just my picture's picture picturin
less real than steel inflictions

read the inscription
and before i leave on my mission
to wage a war of attrition
on this degrading position
of a painful condition
human condition
slap my face
bite my throat
and eat out my affliction

aslongasidream