mmhmm nation

angk-shuz

2011-12-30T02:38:00.000-08:00

You better stay away

you got me angk-shuz

knuckles like battleships

at the ends of my armadas

firing squad fingus

blazin badabadabada!

laying you flat like

newsprint for tilapia

leave you out for days,

you both smell like shit

I smell you from here

"REALLY DOWN TO EARTH"

game, you know I know your game.

game.

'I like you, too! But yeah, gotta go, don't follow!"

shit's like high school locker room dramatics,

but your life is fluid, tugs from all directions.

gotta jet, gotta meet, gotta eat my collection

dainty daisies ripe, ripe, so you pluck,

'cept the swift lily white of my good luck

PLEASE don't think this is about you.

that would make me so HAPPY punk.

SMILES with less teeth look unimpressive.

Like an GLEEFUL apology from a drunk.

shut up.

Honestly

2011-11-24T20:56:00.000-08:00

It's not about your eyes.

It's not about your beauty. Your kiss. Your anything beyond your heart. I know those parts very well. They are the book that I have read alone, to study it deep. Deep like low notes. To study it within the slow tones. The rumbling dischordancers of a slow techno. You are too alike to my kind of safety keeping. To hold them at a certain wonderful, terrible distance. Far enough for whispers to fall silent. Whispers of illumination. Whispers of lovelihood. Close enough for kisses to fly clear across my cross-eyes forehead and touch down like a moon lander out of focus. Who is this? Who are this? How lucky and wrong am I?

BUT BELIEVE ME! I understand. My heart is one of those tinier ships, with the captain at roost with a lazy ankle guiding the tiller with one hand holding a book of verse and a hand on my thin-as-shit neck hoping that one of the pages makes the pulse quicken and causes me to move. make we want. makes he stand and run. and not be done. to shade the sun from everyone. My heart, too, moves like dust on fancy shoes. Riding the invisible tide of secrets to hide.

And obviously, that's not a happy place to be. No. But it is A place to be, and I will never complain from a lack of location. Because being in pursuit of a larger love is always considered "A" place to be.

So sink your teeth into my DANGEROUS inequality. I am largely unwritten. Largely unbitten. Still eyeing the yarn, like a ferocious knitting club. caste. Still eyeing the yarn, still imagining the slightly larger than life perspective of things.

Keeping me softly.

So that's what I have for now.

polyanna

2011-09-24T20:25:00.000-07:00

sprinting the stairs of a rustic ruin-

quick around the crumbling stones-

ankles burning with the magnitude-

ascending on and streaming cheeks-

hands solid, I grip an agéd flagpole-

bearing words to beckon you back-

it is a simple phrase that all know-

alike to seeds, simple words grow-

I scream with delight to reach top-

my eyes scanning the horizon scar-

each breath tears for how you are-

distance breaks, builds, then dies-

but reconnects your shimmer eyes-

it's sticks, swift, like windy spears-

deep into my hidden, melting guts-

holding my arms back like cassius-

betraying my hunger for your yes-

I wave the flag to the sun and sky-

to warn the wind of my raging cry-

Tremble, clouds, I'd call you down-

the moment I saw you hiding her-

Nature crimes in the azure climbs-

whisking winks and simpler time-

I stamp and shout against my kind-

the ones that go, the ones outside-

banner raised against the sounds-

of a barefoot heel against ground-

I call again, my voice shreds calm-

my thunder, still, is a cannon song.

clamor dancer

2011-09-13T21:18:00.000-07:00

for the love of god,

let's take this mountain.

let's take a breath and release a fire blazing cloud of whispers.

whispers of our future.

immediate. killing the past.

the world to be will fear our dreams.

like a lamb, fearing a wolf, or a lynx, or a goat with knivessss

we are creatures. animals. herds. we survive like animals.

we die like computers. we die like pictures.

we die like the swarthy fats legs of deadly promises.

FOR ONCE LET'S LIVE LIKE CLAMOR DANCERS!

let's rip off these powdered wigs

let's teach ourselves a new cave to paint.

LISTEN TO ME! I'M A CREATURE, I PROMISE YOU I WILL BITE!!!

we all will bite once we see how sweet the fruit shall be.

SHALL

WILL

we all will bite once we see how sweet the fruit shall be.

for the love of god,

let's take this mountain.

let's take a breath and release a fire blazing cloud of ancestry.

you and I. let's breed.

our thoughts combine and seed.

Our thoughts combine and proceed.

thought mothers.

thought fathers.

there's no stopping them.

rabbits.

kudzu.

the uneducated third world.

or is it DISD...

who knows?

BUT OUR THOUGHTS! IF THEY GREW LIKE THESE!!

but be careful. someone will strike you down. soon. for your radical freedom.

the american revolution will not be televised. or on facebook. or on tumblr. or tweeted between bullet rounds whizz past your liberated ears. the revolution will happen in your homes. community centers. churches. temples. mosques. afterschool programs. the revolution will occur in the resurfacing desire for a wholeness. a unity. people will discover their loneliness. and their loveliness. people will realize their need for you. your need for them. this is all just hypothetical, but when the dusty wigs are gone and we peer past the product to the oily roots of our human heads, we will see the skin that hides the skull that hides the brain that stores the love of our lost, broken hearts. Please meet me on the mountain. please don't kill yourself for your childhood.

"Forgiveness is the release of all hope for a better past" - Buddy Wakefield.

FOR ONCE LET'S LIVE LIKE CLAMOR DANCERS!

let's rip off these powdered wigs

let's teach ourselves to dance is to breath.

spin in a circle and get high on your gravity.

whoa stomach!

2011-08-14T20:46:00.000-07:00

instant transmission
to be sent out immediately.

I have a journey to take.

I will be there for a while.

hopefully, I will make it through.

that is all.

sick

2011-08-03T22:13:00.000-07:00

i've been ruined.

from too much reading.

from too much reflecting.

refracting.

reacting.

Process-based art work is a cunning adversary.

It will haunt your quiet - make you unquiet.

It will stunt your peace - make you violent.

I could have had different aspirations. People do that - have different aspirations than I.

And I get it. I own that. I am sick.

I have a disorder. A wrong order. My brain and soul are mal-organized. I have failed to see the picture that someone built the world with.

I see a completely different one. I keep reading about it in the dreams of others. Olders. Over-therers. Over-sharers. It's-not-fairers. I'm-not-scareders. Be-prepareders. I read about the world that we both live in. They arrived much before I did, but probably around the same season of their life. It's the struggle to discover which parts of my dreams are actually my dreams now, and what I can change about all of our dreams gone-by. Its a struggle to match my shopping list with anything I can possibly find around. I'd like to become the hometown hero for planet earth. Hike to the top of the great human mountain and proclaim to the wooded avoidance of gasping space: "I figured out why everyone is afraid of you! I know now why you leave everyone out of your plans! I've come to make it right!" And after that, the stars and planets would tiptoe cautiously in curious circles around a game of pick up sticks between the universe and I.

My neck hurts.

a new title every day

2011-07-24T12:10:00.000-07:00

descend. quickened vines.

choke. a pause.

aromatic suffocation of bliss.

begin again.

arrive.

here.

you know. but you don't.

neither of us will ever.

jagged.

beware.

be warned.

be warm.

be one.

dumb

2011-07-21T16:25:00.000-07:00

this is how it feels when I lie

with my hands.

with what I do.

with all my time.

to you.

I don't deal in

time machines.

or projecting smiles

on movie screens.

this is how it looks when I suck.

but just as icebergs,

and bruises,

and arguments,

and the little thread that lazily asks to be pulled from your sweater,

I know there's more involved than a symptom.

this is how it sounds when you sigh.

you can pull down the curtains,

and save the dusty lights,

you can forget the shows and matinees,

if we aren't feeling right.

I could care less about figuring out how to plan my day.

truly.

If I could find your head's address in that shimmering

jiminy cricket phone book, I would track down your

braindoors and leave a stack of my thoughts.

mostly about you. don't tell anyone.

well, shit, if you did, they would tell you the same message from the notes.

i've got you...

(and I hold you closer)

under my skin.

thank you.

I'm getting there.

I really should take more vitamins

2011-07-08T01:07:00.000-07:00

shiverss

scrapeng

lethargek

I have a bone to pick with my lover, art,

I have a won't to kick from my cover. Start

a process of foundation for my heart

to sing and bring me water to dissolve all'f

my fears and steer me from a bigger question.

I suppose the mistress that is, in reality,

a pigment

in a stroke

from the field

of a painting

says a dream:

will remain elusivvv.

ART! YOU SAID YOU WOULD WAIT FOR ME!

No, not surprised. I'm apparently just as flakey.

(change of thought)

But it's because there's always something more to learn.

is that why I don't call? yup.

Because there's always something more to learn. Out there! From the OTHER PEOPLE!

I'm currently 24,

working on a year of strident starvation; trading hours of sleep for hand-me-downs from

scattered artistic fathers and mothers.

I like it. I get it. Kinda.

BUT JUST THAT. I KINDA GET IT! I BARELY GET THIS! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET WHAT YOU'RE GOING THROUGH EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY!?

is this because I don't tell you everything? because I haven't filled out a questionnaire on my own life and left it indiscreetly on the ledge of your nose?

DOESN'T CHANGE my LOVE FOR YOU. JUST MEANS THAT YOU NEED TO FIND your LOVE SOMEWHERE!

and I suppose that's the point.

Just as food,

or movies,

or sport,

or music,

or poems,

or afternoons,

or jobs:

Friendship is a distinctly different color in the back of each person's eyes.

we can barely agree on anything. why should friendship be any different?

doesn't mean I can't love you.

doesn't mean I can't care.

just means we should talk more. out loud.

(back to art)

:) i like the way you feel in my hands.

when I am learning or teaching, art, you

seem a little dangerous.

keep it up.

give me those tingles.

My skrix

2011-07-06T11:19:00.000-07:00

like a knife in a neck, I got skrix thas a fakk.

Im the clue to a puzzer, chompin dohz in a muzzer

I felf a little iffy when I sef the world on fearz

turn the tv on quikk wi'needle noze plearz!

the clip in the reel that got cut from the show,

my only owned skrix pleasure tied in a bow.

I got ten toze tearin trakks, teashin tykes to tremble,

divin down dem dykes dousin daylight in a thimble!

keep out! keep out! I gossummfin in my fenguz,

clop clopin on pave stonz dream of karaoke senguz.

done.

In the clutches

2011-07-04T00:02:00.000-07:00

I want to try all of it.

To waste away with a mark on every list.

Claiming every station as my home.

But I'll never grow better at anything.

I need to find a passion.

That burns like a screaming arrow.

Straight up, into my brain.

Something I can't let loose.

Then I will tear away and drown in it,

like a scrupulous toddler in a picture book,

diving and quaking in my revelations.

I will be defined.

Eventually, all I will be good at will be withering,

taking the scenic route to a wall with no story.

Waiting for someone to turn my chair towards a window.

It's dark with the shades drawn.

But now I can't seem to rest;

I attempt every second second

at each dangerous trinket of a skill.

Something to write home about.

Something to write about alone about.

Waiting for the rights to tell every passerby:

I DID THIS, I DID, I SWEAR, I CAN PROVE IT!

It's a little prideful.

Selfish coin set aspinnin',

and every glance you take,

I'm a different glint of arrogant.

But I'm pretty enough for neutrality.

I share my thoughts much too freely.

Like a barrage of letters

from the same no. 1 fan!

You're already swamped reading the first word.

But I mean well, I mean what I mean;

no malice, no argument, I don't care enough to hate.

But I don't know if I care enough to really give.

Which brings us back to doe.

I need to fire myself from speaking,

a gag, a bandana, a mask, and a lock.

So I will listen for once.

Truly, to listen and dutifully so.

high ho! Onwards towards september!

hungry

2011-06-07T11:30:00.000-07:00

insatiable.

eat and eat,

sinkin' teeth.

forks and fortnights.

hooks and harmony.

I want to see you.

for a spell.

I want to become a taxable poet.

2011-06-05T15:58:00.001-07:00

That's a poet that the government can take money from.

'Cause their poems are gangster.

ugly

2011-05-31T12:29:00.000-07:00

your gums are showing,

your eyes collapse

like an embrace,

like a curtain.

you turn,

you have to turn.

none of us can stare victory in the face.

cards shown,

battle plans spread out,

the piggy bank just broke over your head.

who would want you now?

seeing your ugly smile?

no picture, no painting,

no, not even your own mirror

will witness your blister.

gasp at your giddy.

you where meant to be that animal.

the feverish pearlescent shadow of your fitface.

do you think I'm a fool? Because I AM a fool.

I'm also smiling in secret.

scratching and wincing. I can't get rid of

my sick sick smile

who could know?

so quick to the tool chest,

yellow plastic shovels,

quick to the ground-

quick to the clearing,

brushing back the leaves and clutter

you toss your head back in sky-

bending, straining in the

packed mud, get down there,

all the way, six feet, six days,

six winks deep in the dirt.

rip and shred, the smile weakly peels

off your cheap cheeks and spills,

like chalk dust trails into the ditch.

your ugly smile

makes you a babe.

a super babe.

have you seen yourself?

it's up there. all of it.

disaster ready.

be warned.

I might try to carve your face into shape.

I just might press and press,

until laugh lines become laugh streets.

laugh borders to cheek kingdoms.

I will hold them there to remind you

after I disappear

when you stare briefly at yourself in

a car window or the lake water at your feet-

I was there. in your eyes. for a moment.

long enough to ruin your cool.

deep enough to see your eyes shine.

and real enough for the light to blow back

and tear through mine. thank you.

a step

2011-05-30T23:49:00.000-07:00

crunched cases,

packed faces,

sipping elbows-

-to the races!

eating time,

feeding mine,

every other

minute I'm

taking steps,

oh, please let's

fill the cup

to the next.

it's the rush:

men and girls,

women'n'boys

in order fills.

crinkled plasts

and flavor blasts

a winking sleeping

bruise bleeds past.

The race for sunlight

turtle stance,

vomit trail,

and druggéd glance.

I keep the hearts

of my beats down,

to a slower, please,

to a sense of ease...

chatter sticks,

flips, flats and lips,

lists, lids and lashes,

pathetic starch ships.

in the row, cursing

birth, the search

morning past it's

own shanty dirt.

It's a damn fine

morning, here

on the road. It's

looking clear.

Keeping time

with the purses and

creased sleeves

of wanderers:

I am as false

as the good

morning - breathing,

an ornament.

So the task.

the plan. blueprints.

plans for further

stacks and stabs.

I have a silent moment.

duck my head under

the waters edge-

whoooof!

A crystal beam,

sounds drown

to a golden brown.

(exhale)

so tired. again. staple my eyelids up and keep hustlin.

shooof, shooof, shooof,

blinking for bravery. birds in the branches keep my shoulders rustlin.

kshh, kshh, kshh

(inhale)

get. that. for my mouth.

just write it down.

2011-05-26T22:52:00.000-07:00

water tension.

you break it, you're by it.

lately the sky's been full of knives.

waiting for a cloudless, comfortable day

to bully.

•••

We've been bruised.

Unused.

silently catharting to

the moving picture shows

of the passerbys.

we have a shade tree.

enough room above to stop the rain:

water or hotter,

and below,

the fertile living room of dandelions.

you hand me a memory,

sharper than some have been.

you stir, then breathe once.

You've had this one for a while now.

it's a keeper.

it's cold to the touch,

and light in my palm,

"i was really frightened."

you have a knack for

owning your fear.

always cool,

ninja princess,

like a three piece suit

with iron sides, equipped,

with swiss army eyes.

precedents aside,

you don't have to act strong.

I know how it goes.

how silence can grow.

scream it out and re-possess yourself.

heat seeking missus

2011-05-23T15:57:00.000-07:00

not a quake

or a shake,

but a snarl,

don't mistake,

my intent,

not incensed,

just a dream,

the advent:

someone stirred

some, it cured,

like a mixture

like a word.

Besotting me,

re-potting fees,

re-plant from

former libertrees-

Don't you know,

a silent show,

to best applaud,

you simply glow.

You mustn't let

a single soul

drown the trumpets

your whispers stole.

Not scared of heights,

or tendre sights,

the tambre's wild,

in your eye's lights.

Not a quip,

or a sip,

from a spoon,

from the tip.

But instead

from my head,

deafened kind,

what you said

"hello"

plunge,

sink,

submerge,

submurder,

deeper, deepest

back of my eyes,

bullet train to the back of my head.

remember those glances forever.

do it.

I try not to.

to run.

to not run.

to forget and ninja-scurry

to the past, lost, loved loves.

to eat the present moment

like sweets-

to digest and move on,

like sweets-

but this isn't food.

it isn't consumption

it's irrigation,

the metal age,

agriculture,

government

you're building a world on the slanty insides of my skull.

So I say again

"hello"

hope it's as loud:

shattering,

shuddering,

stuttering,

muttering.

You make me speak bad english.

So just remember that when

we meet at the embassy.

I have documents to translate.

and it's growing dark, late.

My coat is just so (to here)

and just so (to there).

But there are places to hide and speak.

at the end of this stanza,

turn away and count to ten.

out loud.

then imagine asking me

the pivotal.

the next.

the true.

and when you turn back,

the end will speak to you.

**********************

I gave a sigh;

that's a thing you give --

when all that's left,

you leave to live.

Puff sleeve

2011-05-19T22:55:00.000-07:00

It's a little catastrophe-

each meager melody.

Artists are these hopeful bastards that live for the glow of storytelling.

Hopeful in that magic is real to them.

Bastards in that the actual making of magic renders them false.

Artists live for a mutual freedom that exists in the distance between a canvas and it's viewer.

The freedom for each to shed a pre-existing identity.

'Before I saw a Pollock, I thought his work was a busy mess. But when I turned the corner at the modern, I realized that I, in fact, was a busy mess.'

Who could be bold enough to suggest that we are unhappy or incomplete? Art.

Who could be innocent enough to plead for us to stop fighting and abusing ourselves? yes.

We are continually on the defense. Mostly from ourselves. We stand outside our own doors, waiting to let in. Waiting to be escorted to the dingy living room and offered a seat. We will most likely sit across from ourselves for quite some time. And then, on a a large breath, we will ask "Where have you been?" We will glance quickly to our aging knees and scratch the cold, neglected patch of skin behind the ear. the left ear. "Oh, I don't know."

We need a way of communicating with ourselves. Communication is the foundation of great relationships. The relationship most vital is that with oneself. If there is a lack of openness with oneself, an individual can begin making terrible, ill-informed decisions. Where we work. How hard we work. Why, then, we work. For whom we work. All a part of a persons identity. All part of a persons needs.

Art, turned outwards or kept in, is the soul manifest. We all need a way of safely breaking back in to ourselves.

ugh. more later.

I can't always know if I know.

2011-05-03T22:08:00.000-07:00

Point of reference.

A point.

A contact killer. Sweetness.

I can only run so fast. only so.

Which I suppose better be in my favor.

Bullets, Bears, and Bi-Planes will always gain too easy.

But the sweet.

the sweet is a different kind of lassoed love.

GET OUT.

no.

yes.

gosh. I can't handle the sides of most things tectonic.

Against you there's little chance of survival.

You know that both doves and darts have wings.

But a kiss that flies at me both coos and stings.

Twisting like the words of an ancient law book. As a letter fades into the dirt. breaking apart with moisture. Ink mixing with the minerals. dripping syrupy scents of the frantic, granite coils. Symbiotic themes of rebirth. She wants to see. She wants to sink in. To sink. To find. To end.

to end.

to.

thank you for understanding. at least the madness. not everything else. That's the best for now.

(glance)

2011-04-28T22:06:00.000-07:00

It's never too early

It's never too late-

I hope by and by,

my path demonstrates.

It's never a fault,

and it's never conceited-

It's not some grand illusion,

but don't feel defeated!

It's not a hard task,

but " simple's" not the word;

It's an investment you make-

a symptom that's cured.

It's as light as a penny,

but as heavy as wealth-

to bask in forgiveness,

and be okay with yourself.

night, you dreamkins.

temptation

2011-04-26T07:23:00.000-07:00

It's nostalgia. Either towards a life that was or wished.

Pain. Towards a point of remembering.

Towards a point of reliving.

Or perhaps a dream.

It's control. Attempted. tempt.

It's a relief. Obviously. Even if you die to it.

Honorable death in war. That's normally when danger is ignored.

It's familiar.

We are letters with broken seals - a page missing.

I can't tell you the words you want to hear.

They're just as broke broke as you could hope.

You're a spiders' web of wrong turns.

You're a broken skillet and finger burns.

You have a silly habit of being alive -

but we really don't know if you truly survive:

your screams and screams, at nothing at all.

You scream and scream at a blank blank wall.

If we are truly predisposed to death, you are the catalyst.

We all have it coming,

But you got it running.

Hit the ground running on 39 broken legs.

40's just gonna give you more bandages to change.

Do you get it now? Even your breath has got to breathe.

Even your changes have got to evolve.

You eyes must see everything new.

Encyclopedia Brown that shit.

Give me a hug and mean it. I do.

No one gets on this list and leaves without a fight.

I want to give you something to yell about. to write home about. to write "H.O.M.E." about.

to write it down. to fill those blank, blank walls. So go.

go.

It's all there for you. inside you.

2011-04-25T23:06:00.000-07:00

I never lied about this.

But I basically lied about everything else possible.

I did:

My art.

My age.

My name.

My love.

My innocence.

My fear.

My limits.

My sanity.

endlesss-----

But I never lied about this:

It's all there for you. Inside you.

That's where all the lies are kept, as well.

There are great things. Beautiful things.

Aspects, habits, capabilities, lessons, talents, passions.

yes. it's all there. surprise.

But yes, you could forget. Choose to forget. Distract. Discount. Disappear.

©©©©©©

I am the buzz of a television after you have gone to bed.

I will shake, and shake, and shake, and shake.

I can spill the stories of thousands of years at your feet.

But you will not wake. not wake. not be woked. wook. wouk. ed.

The T.V. that is me will spit out sparkle names,

chant the parts of your body, eat a little meaning.

It bleeds light in such a sorrowful way. Gifts,

never ever seen again. The light fades past my ears.

right and left.

The light picks up the particle in air of my bedroom.

The curtains of light sweep over my eyes, exposing a new layer,

like a viscous fabric shield of a lake, or bathtub.

Or glass of water at the house of a playmate.

The lever of fingers.

Hold well, the walls of your heart.

They will try to crumble at the sight of the great beyond.

you have what it takes.

good night.

Don't worry about things-They've already worried enough about you.

2011-04-24T21:52:00.000-07:00

I don't want anyone to see me.

But I kind of want them to see me.

I don't want anyone to hear me.

But I sort of want everyone to hear me.

I'm singing in the rain again: I have ceased to fear.

If you understand much about marine biology, or any biology, or grocery shopping-

When they get rid of something that we all relied on - Something else will come along that fills the void until the expected better option replaces it. Except it rarely does.

I have a buddha laugh bubbling up inside right now. It's proving to be a bit ridiculous. I am a believer in positivity. It's productive, it's supportive, and it's novel. apparently. I just want to tell them all. I just want to let them know. Let them in on the secret. We will open the old rusty latch and brush away the ivy to find the handle to an ancient, musty wooden door. The wall will inhale/exhale with the unexpected breach. Like a surprise glance from the exit of an airplane terminal.library.CVS parking lot. But there you will be, closing the door behind you, with the relapse and the darkness and plenty of cigarettes several inches behind a whistling forever. a stifling never of locks and bit-off nails.

for now.

oh behave...

2011-04-23T13:42:00.000-07:00

there's a hint of danger in everything he touches.

Under the rain, under a tree

this place for us to become 'we.'

I'll give you a secret,

you'll give me a look.

I'll publish your nuance

in a leatherbound book.

Translations will spread,

in all manners and forms-

Adaptations will spring,

a piece each culture performs.

From odes in the highlands,

to cries from the sea.

Silent poems grow from the empty,

so they will always find me.

I will grind the teeth right down. All the way down.

So I gum my toothbrush in fretful fretful fear.

I will press my eyes 'til my tears I can finally control.

But that still won't make you appear.

There are too many questions. selfishness. opinions. blah.

I will give and sacrifice and spend time alone with you.

But that still won't make you stay.

I could set up camp in your living room, making tea and serving up tid bits of old news.

But that still won't keep your attention.

Gladly. Gladly.

a leak

2011-04-22T13:10:00.000-07:00

fsss...

just a little hole,

a slight imperfection...

letting out the pressure, the power, the purpose.

get off my yard.

off.

I'm not angry. Anger is unproductive.

I'm confused. I don't get it. I don't get the look, the lies, the phrases.

REEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAL.

like a body. broken by traffic. bullets. be as real as the cadaver of my grandfather. immediate. say something that you feel. my grandfather couldn't feel, so I felt him. static. stuffed. candle cold. be something significant. not simply something easy. please, don't be comfortable.

i don't care to have it.

because you don't know, obviously, what makes me comfortable. intention, intention, intention.

fsssss...

a leak, a break-

a sleek mistake.

get over it.

hoo

2011-04-18T21:10:00.000-07:00

I feel like I just had a heart attack. melodramaaaa

your flight fell twenty feet inflight and your eastern soul got ripped out, still,

noise noise noise noise noisen,

poison.

If something is important to you. PLEASE.

make it so.

make it so. I know, I know I say that now. I KNOW. I get it. I'm learning. I'm aching. I'm aging. I feel the tug. When I don't sleep well, and I wake fitful, wretched.

I'm spitballing now. I'm adorned with paper-lantern-post-its. crinkly fur. pastel petals, pin-pricked to my first shirt. my first shirt. each note a screeching misspelled secret that I don't believe. Yet, I keep writing them. Each mirrored surface in double. once for my ego, once for my echo. both to spurn me.

cold pockets. I keep them empty.

What is it that I do? I push the boundaries. Mine. Of course I'm alone. Not a question. Geometry. When you shift the fabric towards the shape of a cone. A shuddering speed, one direction, til there is really only one space to sit in, and then you thrust your sword in that last crevice of attention. early blindness. always blindness. blurredness. assuredness.

cold pockets. If they were full, the silhouette would be ruined.

I think that I am really the soul of some monk of me traveling well into another town/country/custom. get it?

He was sailing away from the coast with the strict task of belief. To listen, to sit, to liquify- and I still stuck at the door of our departure, realizing what my home looked like from a few steps away in the yard. Rotating like an owl-head, piercing the nostalgia again and again, with my body and my plans LEAGUES ahead.

Maybe I should go. Amongst the animals.

Side note, someone put me on a rack and Strrre-----tch me. I feel like my boots look.

HEART, RESTART, HEART, RESTART.

fall

2010-09-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

Pressure drop in time,

my bones can rest forever.

I sit and behave.

Oh, the leaves of trees!

Your chatter calms my senses.

I fear the winter.

Autumn, my kindred,

your face seems brighter to me:

ev'rytime we meet.

just call the number on your screen

2010-09-08T10:58:00.000-07:00

beyond a doubt,

the scariest means of living:

on an edge, of a crack, of a sliver of a hope.

I climb a tree,

beyond the hearty trunk,

above the muscular lower branches,

past the lofty conopy,

until I stand, drifting,

balancing on the smiling leaves.

Like a color, I dance in the sunlight.

The greenscape is the stage of my ballet.

I suspend time, I leap, I dive,

I fall in the busy shadows.

To kill my blinking eyes and fluttering pulse,

I sink inside. Inside my head, my blood, my traveller.

Seeking, a seeker, and destroying, a destroyer.

I am a very model of a modern major generalization.

Smile, please, you don't know how beautiful you are when you do...

don't skip that. please. just practise now. just now. just then. just again.

smile and know what a secret garden you are. a little treasure, hidden away.

hidden away?

smile for me when I don't know how you are.

you should not speak, if you are being aloud. just smile.

I am getting closer now. to the breach. the threshold.

building up to the point where judgement and dreams

pave roads and build buidlings of light.

blinding

simple

beyond

expanding

exhaling

penetrating

devastating

light.

®®®®®®

Travel to your childhood in an effort,

not to capture, or comfort.

but to build, to tribute. smile again now.

and once again.

®®®®®®

inside a moment. you kill me. completely. where are you? what did you do and how?

where is that seed in your eyes? where is that sorrow in your silence?

I know, I know. smile please, this is awkward.

don't leave. don't. I can't speak.

you're leaving. I'm watching. I can't watch. the bricks swallow my day.

You are eclipsed by naught. I don't know what to think.

You are shoved in an ever-busying collection of daylight, rain, and wet socks.

come back and kill me. come back and yell that name I know you have for me.

O, now I'm sick.

O, now I'm sick. I love you for no reason.

He won't protest. He will sit and learn with everyone else.

He won't cause a fuss. I promise. This never happens. (exhales)

See his hat, his cotton tie, pressed trousers and shoes he tied himself!

®®®®®®

You don't see it. But I built a boat for you. thirty years from now.

A boat wrought of dark wood, like a viking ship in a museum.

It is swift as glances, stealing through the night to capture you.

It's name is Danger and it will not rest in any harbor.

Possessed with curiosity, the ship wills the crew onward.

You stand with the fire at your back, letting the salt mine your blinking eyelids.

Your love stands for an entire night with a hand just above of your shoulder:

wanting so bad to rest.

wanting so bad to swoon.

The ship rocks in a storm and the hand glances your back.

Glancing, innocently, you spy your love hiding.

®®®®®®

good.

It Gives, It Gives!

2010-08-20T23:34:00.000-07:00

tender branches,

will not hold,

something stronger,

warning told.

give me courage,

give me blood,

thought I made you

out of mud.

I've got itches,

in my eyes,

thought I made you,

out of flies.

IT GIVES, MY SOUL GIVES,

IT WILL NOT HOLD,

IT WILL NOT HOLD!

IT GIVES, MY BRANCHES BREAK,

THEY WILL FALL DOWN,

THEY WILL FALL DOWN!

I have a wish,

a crude deception.

Killing me,

You kill my question!

Erase my marks,

And drown my mem'ry!

I have a field,

bury me, give me!

I am a stone,

I am a feeling.

I am alone,

I can't stop stealing.

IT GIVES, MY SOUL GIVES,

IT WILL NOT HOLD,

IT WILL NOT HOLD!

IT GIVES, MY BRANCHES BREAK,

THEY WILL FALL DOWN,

THEY WILL FALL DOWN!

•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•

I am the least important issue in my day. I am sure that I should consider myself at least a bit higher on the list.

But I still find the vanity to be a clothes horse. the hypocrisy!

good night. Go be someone.

Getting Back Into a Cocoon

2010-06-10T15:13:00.000-07:00

I suppose honesty, as always, can be my best friend.

It will support me in a fault, it will keep my vision clear. No secrets.

Pardon me already for my words, I have been afraid, as usual, of speaking my mind. I never really get the courage for most things. Decisions. Opinions. Emotions. It gets me in TERRIBLE situations. I hurt people, I let people down, I leave people stranded. Lack of courage? I don't know. I don't. Not sure, no.

I just need to prioritize. Get in the me-cocoon. It's not selfish. Well, perhaps it is the positive side of the coin. Respect and patience for the self. I need to breathe and decide by my own.

Mantra:

IT CAN HURT YOUR BODY TO TELL YOUR PERSONAL TRUTH.

IT NEVER HURTS YOUR SOUL TO TELL YOUR PERSONAL TRUTH.

EMBARRASSMENT, AWKWARDNESS, REJECTION, DISSOCIATION,

AND REGRET ARE NOT STRONG ENOUGH REASONS TO STOP BEING

YOU.

LOVE THE UNCOMFORTABLE BEAST THAT YOU ARE.

THEN YOU CAN RELAX.

I keep feeling a little poor in my skin. I just need to believe that I have what it takes.

I have always felt as though the platitudes that are spoken most are the easiest to write off. But they are still there. Smiling.

"You just have to put your mind to it!"

The power of positive thinking. I made a latte today and I noticed that the foam was exceptionally smooth and luxurious. I decided to man up and I told my customer that the latte he was about to drink could very well be the best latte he had ever witnessed. Whether this was true or not, he grew in anticipation and upon drinking the latte, he had that moment that Bill Murray has in "What about Bob?" My customer gasped and may have had a religious experience; he even returned later in the day simply to remark how good his latte was.

When you point something out to yourself, you tend to think on it. When riding a bike, if you stare at a stick on the ground, you are more likely to ride towards it, maybe hit it. ack, tired. more later. oooo

ring, ring, ring bells into the dark

2010-05-07T00:40:00.000-07:00

So clearly.

He isn't joking.

A performance. By Justin Locklear.

Actors emerge into light as 'The Players'. 2, 4, 7, 13, 30, the number of players is immaterial. The Players stand in pigeon clumps, shivering and shifting, waiting. An ringing alarm sounds (not a siren), and the Players dance with glee in an organized choreographed chevron. Alarm goes silent and the Players quickly go neutral and search for an audience response.

Lights out.

Lights up on half the Players in the familiar pigeon clumps with similar shuffling about. Same alarm bell, same smiles and dancing. Alarm goes silent and one of the original Players crosses from off stage right, to down center and claps uproariously with hoots and hollers. Players stand in disbelief. Clapping, hooting, hollering all cease and the player exits. Players still in shock and amazement. Some are besotted, some offended, some feel downright lost.

Voice (from offstage): GO HOME!

Players begin to scatter in all directions like newly orphaned baby spiders. Lights out.

Lights up on two Players, both standing arms akimbo, at center stage. Both aware of the audience. Both waiting their cue. Alarm bell starts, the Players slowly plié and then, as they release and make a short leap in the air, the alarm bell goes silent. They shout, mid-leap.

Players (in unison, still in the air): MAGIC!

The Players receive applause from one set of hands backstage. The applause is slow and pitiful. The Players amicably shake hands and are very comfortable with the resulting applause.

Voice (offstage): GO HOME!

Players kiss each others' hands and leave in opposite directions. Another player sweeps. Another player writes the letter 'x' at various locations on the stage. Lights out.

Lights up on blank stage. Alarm sounds and Players rush to stand on the 'x' marks. Alarm goes silent. The Players are very pleased to be onstage again: nothing complex, smiles, nods, confidence.

Voice (offstage): GO HOME!

Players walk in place on their 'x' marks and mime various moods of returning home. It doesn't matter how they do it, but each should find the time to open and close an imaginary door. A player up-left speaks.

Player 1: Go home. Please. Exeunt all but Player 1

I am the fault of no one. I stand alone.

I am the seed of all one. I grow to stone.

I am the thespis eye-twinkle. I get lost for money.

Then I lose the money.

Camels, tubes, medicine, race cars, laundry,

retail, Andy Griffith, the war of... whatever.

I will exist within anything that hasn't a soul but needs one.

I lie the best when I lie to one person at a time.

But I will lie to all, all in love.

If I tell the truth, when I tell the truth,

I want it to be in secret, with a select few lovers,

with eyes bolted, mouths bolted, and our hands up in fear.

If I could end all of the lies with one lie,

I would lie from now until I die, lest I miss the one lie that saves me.

Exits. Re-enters with a sheet. Places sheet on the ground at center. Stands on sheet.

I am a holy mix of nothing.

Walks on 'water.'

I am a holy mix of nothing.

Places sheet on head like a Madonna, making a gesture of peace.

I am a holy peace of tainted flesh. Holy, I am magical, immortal, peaceful.

Removes sheet, folds sheet during the following.

Flesh, I am hot, sniffing, chattering, quick, and gone. Curtains. Wings. Rails. Fires. White coal. Bad luck and empty seats.

Got a dollar to spare? Here's a piece of joy!

'Love comforteth, as sunshine after rain/

Lust's effect is tempest after sun.

Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,/

Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done.'

Got a smile for me? Here's assurance!

Player assures audience of their safety in a tacit, concerned pose.

You're a good thief, kid. But I'm better. Lots better.

Kisses.

Two players cross the stage as a couple, holding hands or each other. Player 1 shakes head.

This is my banquet. My fireworks. How does it work? I dunno.

Not my job. I hear it happens, though. Them. That. I hear it's messy!

I have been stabbed 146 times. I have been orphaned 3 times.

I have killed 320 people or thereabouts. I can sail a chariot on fire through the air.

Give me a break, I need to go see a live birth or something. Something messy. Yup.

Lights out. Author is tired, and has to work soon, so he is going to bed. All my love.

How our last talk ended.

2010-02-01T00:41:00.000-08:00

ugh.

so, I don't like how our last talk ended. You were like, meh, and I was like, well?

joke.

A journal is very much a reflection of my inability to confront myself, or people, or my thoughts. I regard art often as a real and visceral tool for my own good and progress, but I am often afraid of the implications of our relationship. It exists for me to use it. My SLAVE!! But if I don't write, if I don't post? It just sits there, breathing gently, trying to insist to itself that life is going to turn around, and that better days are right around the... just right around the... oh, bother.

Why do I abuse such a willing servant?

I have dependency issues... (smiles)

I know that I haven't said anything to it in a while - my blog isn't whining to my face or talking that widely behind my back, so I musn't worry, eh? But really, delaying the inevitable conversation isn't helping anything. Ready to take the turn towards introspection, my friend?

I also delay conversations with people I hold very dearly in my thoughts:

My little brother, whom I love, who can accomplish anything simply because he has so much joy. He is the golden child.

My older brother, who is in Iraq, who I am so deeply proud of and indebted to. He is my hero.

My parents, who love, and are love, who run together, who crack wise and who love me and make me feel a little normal once in a while. They are, together, a smirking buddha.

My friends from college, who I grew up with. I fear that they fear, and we all make a garden with our fear and we reap the fear and thrash it and grind it and pound it and we watch our fear loaves grow and brown and blacken and soil our appetite for love and life. btw, I am still to blame. I wish we could all join hands and say it together, looking each other in the eyes, "Justin mucked this one up!"

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

We all love that town. The grass. the lake. the fires. the train depot that holden shared with me (where I insisted on taking countless others - that's still yours, brother). The hospital that we explored. Still have the ghosts after me, damned kid ghosts. I worked at a vietnamese restaurant with daniel, and then we all stopped going there when we decided the cooking practices were second rate (smiles). I just loved that SOUP! My apartments? I make a mess like nobody's business. seriously. Those boys put up with so much. I now can reveal that it was an elaborate social experiment! Haha...

Matt, Taylor, Michael, Sam, Zach, Sky, Jeff, Holden, James, Tommy, and Gabe at random minutes. You are my brothers, and I will give all I have for you. Even if I try to attach it to a wall first. And then put beer in our dish washer. And make really, really bad music at really, really 3am.

Nostalgia... nóstos meaning returning home, álgos mean pain or ache. yep.

I mean, it's no real surprise, I guess, how badly I wanted them to be in my life. I grew up with brothers, and when I left my blood, I needed to make new blood. beep, bop, boop.

recap-> birth! baptism! peter pan and bloody toenails! I swam underwater! Recess! eww, GIRLS!! Piano lessons! No one understands! Tears, tears, tears! Art, art, art! Who are they- ooh, girls... BLAM! Scouts! Car! Grrrr! Man kill monster, man eat meat, man run over mountain! Learn to sew, to paint, to teach Citizenship in the Nation! College credits! Bicycles! Buckaroo Banzai and TINTIN! Pack satchel! Leave town! Two jobs! Change the World! Theatre, theatre, theatre! Car breaks down, on the way to rehearsal! Lame! Pizza! Karaoke! Smile in my eyes and my tongue and my feet! Love, love, love.

I currently have a mustache.

Here I am, Old and young. Thanks Em, and Jessy.

And I love this movie. You won't believe how beautiful the food looks. Big Night. It's an important something for me. Meeeeeeee!! But seriously, if you love beauty, and you love life. watch this movie someday.

And for grins, if you are in dallas anytime between february to april, there is an okay chance that you could see me on the stage! again, the stage!

Kiss or Make Up, Mesquite Community Theatre. Feb 12-27

SubUrbia, Upstart Productions. March 17-April 10

That's all for now?

Love you, mom. And everyone else, haha, big hug!!

Way to make yourself a crutch,

ev'ry dollar's too much,

ev'ryone you know

is out to lunch.

Ch-ch-ch-change your name.

Change ev'rything.

You'll have nothing to be,

you'll have nothing to scream,

but you'll be clean.

-Soldier

Indeeds. Life.

2009-08-09T11:39:00.000-07:00

Moved into a new place in Dallas. That's wild. Excited to work. Believe in oneself.

That's the truth. Remember all you artists, writers, retailers, mothers, fathers, children, lovers, loved ones. Believe in yourself. People, for the bulk of our time on earth, may seem ambivalent to you. You must remember that you are wonderful, and you can do anything you want. I think. (smiles)

Mom rockin' the squeeze box.

Sold at Cash for Cash 2009.

Also sold at Cash for Cash 2009.

Kelly Garrett Rathbone. Life-poet. She makes great work. READ ABOUT HER!?

It's amazing what you can accomplish with a simple blow gun.

take over that world, y'all. take it over.

watch this. thank you adria.

miss you all. Bad at telling you all.

Recent me

2009-04-18T09:51:00.000-07:00

The family at the theatre. Atlanta in January, to see "Going With Jenny" by Thomas and Sherry Ward.

On the road with the Wards. We encountered mighty beasts. This one is Christopher.

Boss lady. She's my waco mama.

Herbie just recently got into a three year Acting MFA program with a healthy stipend and paid tuition. Couldn't be prouder.

Mom teaching me a thing or two on my friend John's guitar

I enjoy a good sandwich.

Hanging out at the Paste offices in Decatur. Man on the left is Jesse Harris. He was on tour with Josh Radin at the time, and he's a really genuine guy. Take a listen.

Los Hombres.

Nashville, Sledge, Flex, Cricket, and Boomer. Actors? Marines? They were featured in Iphigenia 2.0, a play that we finished a month ago. I designed costumes.

In Atlanta, about to see Waltz with Bashir. Very pensive.

The best only breathe

2009-04-14T02:04:00.000-07:00

I take you in.

Through a nostril, through a tear duct.

Through my throat - I laugh in gusts.

This is all nonsense. I feel all nonsense. I cry to be productive and I think that I it isn't true. I think that I should just exist more. I think that I should just try to breathe more. I think that I get so impatient that I forget about what I am trying to do here. Which is to love to love to love to love.

stories:::::::

I am under a table. sneaking glances at the party going. I will find a way. I will figure it out.

I had a wonderful moment today!! I went to a costume fitting for a play that I will be in soon, and I met someone that I will be sharing a lot of stage with. He seemed so wonderful, but I fear he is a bit wary of me. And he should! Anyways, he also seems a few years my senior and very serious. Not overly serious, but he definitely gets the job done on time. I just want to learn and share. Does that seem like too much to say in the first talk? Probably not. blah blah blah move on....

Feeling much better. Weeks of Bronchial something or other slowly wearing off.

night. I am falling asleep. dream dream dream dream dream. I cry for all of these dreams to come true. gosh. I am all it up inside. like a bride. come to me world.

HAUL IN THE WRECKAGE!

2009-04-08T06:29:00.000-07:00

Dept. of the Quartermaster,

Her royal highnesses boatsmen,

Upon a day of drearye light,

a unseen wreck was took last night.

Been clearing wreckage for one whole day,

with boats passing back in forth

in somewhat orderly rhythm

with gathr'd supplies back to shore.

Found one cannon, still afloat

wrapped in sail to the hull of the boat,

found eight paddles, all unmanned,

one hammer, one vice, one plier with span.

Found strongbox of coin, one of notes,

nine table cloths used as ropes.

Cleared twenty bodies,

all dead and gone,

Found many bits of unusable wood,

fuel is all it can stand for.

Found twelve lengths of solid board,

set to dry and press on shore.

Found again the flag of the queen,

found the flags also of numerous lands.

Mostly known: Damlah, Rengish, Spletting, Trey,

Kukulag, Sporan, Yulta, and Jagrat.

Then more flags, much unknown:

one, a black field with dots like a leopard,

one, a green stripe over a checkered array,

many a solid purple with golden stars,

even one with the silhouette of a gun.

Where they were going was logged only as

distant trading routes.

Many have charted this course

and not returned reporting these lands or flags.

To note: One board bore an inscription,

a paper attached with a knife-

'Men, all dying, want a report,

to set the course back to our travels.

Pass the trade ports with a wide arc and

pick up the wind from the south.

Lands never seen before. Mapmakers wrong.

Treasure unmeasurable. People tall and dark.

Do not offer them your hand for a greeting.

Water flows up from the sea, up the mountains,

up into the clouds. Magic never witnessed before.

We promised them that we would bring them

more of our trade. Fabric. Meats. Metals.

We are explorers all. Sailors and kings.

We have ruled more than we ever knew

we could. Killt by a hateful storm.

Don't remember us, avenge us.

Find the captain's log. It will explain all.'

Captain's Log not found. Requesting eighty ships

to return to wreck site to search the water, shore

and deep. Requesting 100 iron bells to sink

divers to the sea bed. Requesting new sails to maneuver.

Highest regards.

- dept. of the Quartermaster.

Not. Complacent.

2009-03-17T08:32:00.000-07:00

I realize that I left the previous post sitting undefended and without response for quite some time, and it looked depressing.

So forget it.

More and Better later.

ciao

complacent once again

2009-02-08T23:40:00.000-08:00

I am almost gone, and I have a categorized list of dreams.

this. here.

that. there.

conquer the world.

play.

There is really no reason to doubt any place at this point. I need to go. I need to try. It is the what that I struggle with. What do I try? I honestly do want greatness. all of those expected artistic trophies. legacies. memories. precedents. I want those.

oh, whatever. but seriously, that is what I want.

dumb. I feel dumb when I realize what potential this life holds and I don't chase it immediately. It's just dumb.

soon, I shall be sprinting, my path melting into the sound of my pounding patter on the corridors of next year.

next year. my first chance to do exactly what I dream of. vrroom vrroom.

ciao.

being

2009-01-23T23:11:00.000-08:00

A kite at night

is a solitary light.

It plays amongst the stars.

mmmmmm

2009-01-22T08:32:00.001-08:00

I can't write in the morning.
It's fairly painful. I am confronted by so much
noise and motion, that I just seem to make lists.
talk.
talk.
shock.
shalk.

I want to move somewhere far away. And I don't really know why. I really have lovely people here, and I would love to discover more about them. I want to know the world, but I am afraid that it is simply a pursuit that will end in rejecting it.

Wanderlust: "an ache for the distance"

I'm not sure how to say it, but I feel like there is not only a distance between me and countries, which I do want to explore, but there is also a distance between myself and people, which I crave and shy from in a strange sinusoidal behavior. Island. New york. Antartica. Austin. Blue Ridge. LA.

GoodWill said to live life to the fullest, and that is what I agree with. Completely. I think that whatever I do, it will be my way, or I won't believe in it/myself/happiness. That is comforting, I suppose, that I will tend towards living for my dreams, and what is my fear? Still searching for that. Perhaps I should just live like a fearless lion-man and my fear will show up later.

MOTTO? I am gonna live this day as sexy and dangerous as I can without getting a disease or dying foolishly.

do. do. do. do. do. I am gonna ride my bike today. I am gonna fly a kite. I am gonna eat soup. do. do. do. do. do. I am gonna speak the truth today. I am gonna shake hands today. I am gonna stop thinking and email petr matacek. and jana svoboda. and that hat maker in new york. do it, you mother. I am gonna sing, and play music, and purge my soul with sound. yes. yes. yes. yes.

gone.

ciao.

'I sat before a moving painting,
And thought about my love.
I saw many a sculpted angel,
in the sky above.'

explanation

2009-01-20T23:33:00.000-08:00

I can't say everything, frankly,

because I am f***ing afraid.

to whom it may concern,

you are trouble. Lots.

and I want you.

that's all,

ciao.

sway

2009-01-20T22:58:00.000-08:00

sway.

sway.
like some crazy beat.

you hear it through walls at a motel late night during a road trip.

you hear it through the walls at your dentist in the strip mall.

you hear it through your feet punctured and pulsing.

you hear it through a fist in the back of your heart.

you hear it through the earphones of the spicy latina at your right on the plane.

you hear it through the hallways of the abandoned school, someone is learning about the strangeness of life.

eat.

I always forgot to sit down and shove my abilities.

My throat swells with foul, foul, foul.

I figure that there is something wrong with me.

big surpise! Stop the presses, boy has revelation!

'But ma, I'm a lone wolf! I gotta hunt, and hide!

Dig and run! sniff and howl! Ma, I'm a lone wolf! Haaaoooooooooooo!!'

If I'm hated, people are still thinking of me, righhh...??

I started out with servitude in mind. Be that man with the helping hand.

Demand nothing in return, accept little.

I wanted that. I needed that. I lived that. I think.

But when it comes to love, love, love, I ain't gonna hear it from nobody.

She better not love me.

If she don't love me. She won't hurt when I leave.

I'll just roll on.

cowboy.

thief.

nobody.

But home is where the heart is.

I'm bleeding,

stammering,

barely moving forward,

looking for the home that I

moved

out of reach from. ended that one badly. moving on.

point A: boy with brown hair.

point B: victim's home

note the delineation of staining between the two points. looks like there was a struggle.

box it up. tape it up. fold fold. thump, stretch, tear.

lay it down.

bury.

berry.

barry.

bare-E.

Keep it going small fry.

If she love me,

I gotta love real.

Love real.

Love forever.

One.

(change of pace, p.s.)

Obviously, that is what I want. One soul. To love. forever. Or as long as I am allowed. And then I will love in vain, most likely. Will I allow it myself? shit.

I care. I care. I care. I care. hmm.

Good intentions. Good intentions. Good intentions. Good intentions. wha------

crash. crack. bang! springs. coils. smoke. dust. curses. scrapes.

"shoot, he's some kinda bad boy. Didn't used to be. My, oh my. (gee thanks, agnes)"

To the fearful leader:

You don't have to be so worried. Say what you feel. No one is gonna get mad. Expect the best. I know I haven't done what you wanted, so please say that. Or not. But let's work, and experiment. I believe in you, and I want you to believe in me. I am a little boat.

I am off to sleep. I really love this chance. this struggle. this, and this, and this. Someone take me sailing. I'm'a'g'may'money.

Sweet dreams, my lovely ones. I hope that there is someone to coo softly on your pillow. Wake up to fresh air and a fistful of resolve. Today is the first chance in your immediate future to do what needs to be done, what has been dreamed of, and what your love will grow from. cherish.

ciao.

The Music Issue

2009-01-17T13:53:00.000-08:00

Last night at the compound in austin. The lovely men of Picardy III.

AGAIN AGAIN! Listen to the wonderful Judas Feet.

Circlebirds. I saw them outside after their set had finished. Sad times. They were really sweet people, and Matt (pictured) had the most intense/wonderful, winter beard. Much larger than on his myspace.

Really wonderful set from Goodfellow. I really wish there had been thrice as many people at least to hear their set. They deserve Glastonbury-type crowds. Like, monster.

I fell for a girl again. Duh.

I had bad wine in an awesome bottle. hooray.

I listened to my dears rend their hearts to people at a middle school dance.

Literally, I was listening to this while hearing/watching people talk about what the best 'cheap' beer was: "She was always Paris, and I was always Rome/ She was always caring, and I was never home."

That happened. Thank you lord for strange moments.

ciao

She's not like the other proctologists...

2009-01-14T22:18:00.000-08:00

waiting around. we were at the King Tutankhamen exhibit in Atlanta.

respect my boundaries, justin. I would appreciate it.

coming home from work. this was peachtree center station around 6.

the careful search. This was a blissful night for me. I was a cowboy. I felt alive, living in my home town.

the 'co in the early evenin.

My birthday was this past weekend. To mark the very minute, we had a wonderful plate dance and littered/battered our kitchen floor. It was glorious.

"She has a vein in her forehead. Full of sorrow. It beats and groans as it attempts to free her soul. alma. Her heart sends up all the blood, trying to escape out the top of her head. straight shot to the sky. Let her go, please. Let her cry, let her stand, let her be silent, let her be still. You can't soothe her; you have moved on.

I'm sorry, but she can't receive that love right now. It doesn't work that way. no puedes ayudar.

I know this because I want to hold her too. I want to calm her. I want to call out the tears to feed my aches. I want to scream with her at the corners where you kissed. but that too, no, no it is not for me. "

I am buying combat boots for people tomorrow. I am going to meetings, finishing my work, and eating things that are good for me. my left knee is whining over something. I think it will hush if I sleep. so on to that.

Sweet dreams, all who need them. I think it is nice to be reminded, even if only in sleep, that there is a dreaming stone in our heads that yearns and will not rest.

I will not rest. Prague. Paris. Portland. Austin. Atlanta. Anywhere.

That will be me over head. My wings determined. determined. Thank you, my lover of lives before. I will find you. King me. King me. King me. I will find my way to that sweet nest. I will fix it up with guided hands and I will sing to the forest, and they will live on, knowing the song reached those captive trees and wind-ears. I will be that orpheus. I will rend that tree and find my earth/water girl, but she will not be taken away. Little promises. yes.

ciao.

2009-01-13T22:47:00.000-08:00

This was near the top floor of a warehouse downtown. Very wonderful light - I really never wanted to leave. Alas. It was bitter cold outside, and I loved the dusty mountains of leftover furniture and case files. The dust was like chalk. years and years without visitors. I figured that I could live in and construct a stately stove out of the stray iron pipes that lay about.

A nice winter mist descended on the parking lot of my apartment, and with the help of adria, this appeared.

And then with holden, I was fixed in cosmic-yoga bliss. I reached nirvana that week. Nothing to write home about, but I got a great swag bag.

I have been in the throws of designer passion on the latest show this season. I am working on Iphigenia 2.o from Charles Mee. I feel stupid being baffled and excited about shows. I feel sometimes that my art should always be effortless and nonchalant, but I also want a supreme excitement about it all. I live two lives. Or have started the process of doing so.

But I suppose that's where I end up with all of my endeavors these days. Terribly excited and dreaming. just dying for fresh eyes and voices. like foxes. their ears prick at the alien shudders of a mysterious animal in the fields. in the fields. Snapshot: me, one year from now, in a field, brushing debris away from a game of othello and a portrait of you. bewitching. I am eating fresh fruit these days, and I have a great sunshade made of patience. It silently pleads for the elements to be kind on me. But I get what I deserve. I have a furrow of smile lines that reach from my jowl to the tip top of my forehead. I will be wearing a slightly worn double breasted number that, when I sit, brushes the ground. I am all about cravats and I use three at a time. one for my collar. one for my brow. the final snatch of cloth is wrapped round my left hand where I sustained a tragic wound from a lover/sword fighter. Left for dead, I was found by an ornery russian seamstress. She dressed my wounds with herbs, battery acid and eyeliner. She was a surprise.

she always is.

2008-11-21T01:42:00.000-08:00

Painting of an early 20th century playwright.

Recording music in the Roxy Grove Music Hall. Incredible.

Another Waco sky.

Men I love making movies. James, Matt, Taylor, BK, Daniel, and there was Sky and Kelly.

Adrienne has a secret.

This is adrienne's design and the build for Urinetown. The silhouette was provided by sam hough.

Reading group. This was our Lorca night. We wrote it with water because it is symbolic!

Judas Feet. Diana read, Tommy Read, Cody Green. The picture doesn't include Hannah, Tron, or Paul.

Summer show of 'Brilliant Traces,' which was a great production and really lovely design.

Paul playing through a rose glass.

David

I’ve got three smooth stones aimed at your head
And I would be much better off if you were dead
I’ve got a book of the bible named after me
So please stay away, I have enough trouble facing my humanity

so die, my dream,
so die, my dream,
so die, my dream,
because that’s what you are too me.

I went into the water to lose your scent,
I check the mail for words to repent.
But I'm having trouble fighting something that's
heaven sent.

I walked on the edges of your land,
And I lost the feeling of your hand.
I know it's a lot to demand
But I thought that you'd understand.

I've got three smooth stones left on the ground,
and I don't know what to do with this sound,
And I don't know where I will be found,
But I know you'll be around...

So Fly, my love
So Fly, my love
So Fly, my love,
to find rest from me above.

Newer Things

2008-05-16T13:12:00.001-07:00

Whoa. long time, no me.

Sorry world.

Here are more lovelies...

Camren working on a brilliant turban as part of his costume final. beauty.

ah... Taylor Rudd resetting his camera. Honestly, an artist. the artist.

Grace, Daniel, Reid, Matt, & Mallory. I met with them one day when I ventured out from the theatre. It is strange how people remain. How they remain your friends, how they remain their own friends. I don't know. I feel sometimes that I am only slightly related to the world - only slightly, so when I reconnect, it is the manner of a family reunion, with every person growing up, more into their own person.

I am so young.

shoes.

this is a blouse that I drafted and built for our latest show. I was quite thrilled by it.

colby. Check out his band James Callihan.

this is our new trapeze. Thanks to melissa and kristin. this is the almond shape.

this is me carrying melissa with my feet! haha...

This! This is my final for set design, a model for Macbeth.

I wanted to design a highly versatile space with dynamic geometric form.
Also, I wanted it to be a nightmare. I think Macbeth is a nightmare. It is the story of men completely destroying themselves for what they believe to be true. But it is something disastrously different. Anyways, let me know if you have any questions.

Peter saw a death that day,
Thought it suited a eulogy,
Swore to cry, and swore to sigh,
Swore to mourn a love that dies.

Recently Me

2008-03-30T11:35:00.000-07:00

Ward. Discussion over an article on Beckett.

My Mother on a walk with musical giants.

Breakfast on a cute yellow table.

Painting party. It really was a brilliant time. Can you count all of the circles?

A bridge over a bridge. Can you count all of the vanishing points in this picture?

One of Nature's Ninjas.

Adrienne's make-up for my part in Krapp's Last Tape.

Easter Sunday at the Donaldson's. I couldn't have hoped for a better day. Thank you.

Haha... the pile of fun. Toni's friend Rachel (far right) was visiting from Nashville. And they made their friend AK keep company. It was a perfect picnic.

vie

2008-03-06T19:14:00.000-08:00

I sat at various pianos singing in to plastic cups about eulogies.

hoo-rah!

It was lovely - almost like singing inside a christmas light. shimmering.

It rained like hell today. Lots of water. Made me want to swim. mmm...

Jeff making a much larger version of the chess piece on the bottom right. Head in transit.

Dress in window. My director Chris' Saturn in the reflection.

Bewitching eyes in this book.

oh well, oh well,
no one knew the words to say
so wild, so wild,
no one knew the words to say
it’s the world, the world
no one knew the words to say.

sweet rest.

tunes!

2008-03-03T01:28:00.000-08:00

At last!

We finished our production of 'Bye Bye Birdie!' today, and I feel we had a wonderful run for it. I think our audiences enjoyed themselves. And now, in that show's wake, I have a great number of projects to shift my focus towards. Which is wonderful.

1. David Mamet's American Buffalo
2. Mark Howard Medoff's Children of a Lesser God
3. Samuel Beckett's Krapp's Last Tape
4. Steve Martin's Picasso at the Lapin Agile

Oh, sleep. sleep. come, come to me...

Just trying to stop thinking so much...

Here are some recent shots... enjoy!

Sam and I getting sandwiches after a matinee. I think. We ate sometime...

He is the best. A performer. An artist. Please refer to the bearded man with a turban in an earlier post.

The scene shop during set strike.

Roomate Jeff. Brilliant man and artist. I must say he looks quite handsome in his jacket... and in front of the piano...

Roomate Holden. Not a flattering shot. But the moment was too wonderful not to commemorate. yay. sorry Holden. Also, I was borrowing glasses. But they were so fun.

The beautiful James and Kristin dancing. aaah.... so good. Thank God for friendship.

So. Late nights again. The weather is perfect. close to it at least.

You are never too good.
You are never too bad.
It will remain for you and I. All of you. All of me.

ciao. blessed rest.

Merchant of Venice

2008-02-21T23:36:00.000-08:00

Directed and designed by Lindsey Christian.

It was a very enjoyable process; Christian has a very good sense of honesty in her work. And in playing Shylock, I was always hungry for more change in the character. He was so interesting to explore.

le Palais Royale. Built 1641. Recreated 2008.

2008-02-14T17:11:00.001-08:00

my little, thriving theatre,
I made you out of wood.
I gave you little scenery,
and all the care I could.

I put a big black curtain
behind the painted set.
You are the dearest theatre,
I can say I ever met.

New Designs. Set design class.

2008-02-14T16:59:00.001-08:00

Rendering of a cities' deep-set corridor.

The following is a model I designed to exhibit certain qualities offered by our professor that we picked from. I chose seductive, sleek, and opposing. Then we lit it.

Texas - from Sam to infinity.

2008-02-14T16:53:00.001-08:00

Tendernest.

Texas. Tyna, this is what you are missing!!

Late night run to wal-mart. I got distracted by the bike section. Big surprise there.

Travels

2008-02-14T16:35:00.001-08:00

I went on a road trip from California to Georgia. It was brilliant. James and I.

more to explore, I suppose.

California. Huntington Beach. Burgers and Milkshakes at the end of a pier. Perfect.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona. Sunrise and cheap donuts.

Colorado. Snow storms and mountain passes at 11,000 ft+.

Kansas City. Museums and Mayhem. James on a rooftop.

Nashville. Toni is a goddess. We all walked past this tree on the way to the Parthenon.

Atlanta. My birthday party. Hylan was a surgeon on the felt with two long sticks.

Atlanta. Home. 11-11 teahouse. Pu-erh and pleasantness. James and I played Anti-scrabble.

Everyone come next time we drive across the country?

in memoriam

2007-12-16T23:39:00.000-08:00

*************************************************************************************

Be blind, be careless, but love and know when
to stop, to breathe, to listen
and in listening learn the grace of your tongue,
re-learn the care of listening to yourself.
hum. hum. hum. hear the intimate resonance, inside your heads.

oh my, the clock teases, telling me what is relative to how awake or asleep I am...

Be blind, be deaf to alarms and sirens,
no needed for binding to the mast,
you are a strident gull, thwarted but enlivened in the gale,
close those eyes and kiss the silence of your room in black
in ultra-white, the colorless gleam through the air.
hide. hide. hide. see the intimate shades through your eyelids.

Sighting

2007-11-23T21:17:00.001-08:00

Wrenched time out of mind,
And onto the pleading lips.
Pleading to history and time for a reasonable
Punishment.
Bracing his circumstance, he finds comfort in lack of comfort.
He secures his security in insecurity.

Placing his standard in the filtering sand,
Holding fast to his colors, bracing against raging silk string,
As his face and hair blur
into the trailing wake of his future, his dying friends,
His lost cloud of love and knowledge,
his neighborhood of warmth and
aroma.

His trainéd mind and imprisoned hands, fumble
for the lever, the simple machine,
the illumination of some kind of life.

And the swell of shadow over expectation,
The acknowledged need
to slowly spill,
To pass on the love that dwelt so well,
So dear, some rich and dense desire,
The heart brimming full
as an unused well. Ink to set the spell
of stories, dark and wonderful.

-Man, yet to be out of time.

Theatre Happenings

2007-11-23T21:08:00.001-08:00

Arthur Miller's All My Sons. Direction: Graham Northrup.

If you have any questions concerning the design, please let me know, so that I can refer your interests to the proper responder, as I had nothing to do with it.

Thanksgiving Day

2007-11-22T22:18:00.001-08:00

This year, I am home again.

familiarity is wild to rediscover.