the gods are lonely

Fictional death of Joey Ramone

2011-05-10T15:28:00.000-07:00

A person walks alone through the super market at 11 p.m. feeling
different degrees of loneliness. It is always when you are alone in a
grocery store when these feelings seem to appear out of nowhere. This
person has been playing in a band for twenty something years. At this
rate it seems pointless to keep track of things like this. He has
played hundreds of concerts and made dozens of records but when he thinks about these things at this moment it seems
funny and kind of silly. His band is called The Ramones and his
name is Joey Ramone.

"I don't wanna get old" Joey said to himself when he got outside to
the parking lot of a grocery store. He never wanted any of this. He
grew old and tired and was diagnosed with some bad medical thing.
There was no escaping this thing and it seemed incredibly depressing
to him. Joey Ramone stood still for a minute, before entering his 1977
Ford GTO and admired the glow of the street lamps. He could feel his
insides shaking and got one weird burst of energy out of nowhere. Reaching for his BB gun but realizing it was too far, he clenched his fist and groaned.
He lost all his strength and spilled out from the GTO and onto the pavement below.
He laid there on the ground for a long time thinking about nothing and it
felt good just sort of looking at the tires of his car and the grey
faded cement. After lying like this for awhile, a grocery
store employee got off from work and saw him and called an ambulance.

He wakes up in the hospital and immediately regrets waking up. Some of
his family members were beside him and looking at him in a strange and
distant way. He hated that they would come and look at him like this.
They brought to his hospital room a boom box and were playing music.
His family did not have the same taste in music as Joey did and he
wished they hadn't brought music. They were playing terrible things
and at the moment the worst, U2. To think that one could
go through a whole life of doing cool shit and then die like this. Why
did they come here and bring Bono with them? It was beyond his
comprehension and he decided to give up trying to understand
it. Joey Ramone deeply regretted having woken up at all because it
would have been better to die when asleep and in a dream. U2 did not
stop playing. Almost the entire album played and when it was towards
the end he could not take it anymore. Joey Ramone moaned and then
died. It was a sad day for the world. Joey Ramone did not die listening to U2 willingly.

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

this was an old story i wrote and found in my email.
for awhile i liked to make up fictional death's of my hero's.
joey ramone is one of my hero's and when i saw on wikipedia that he died listening to U2 i thought it would be funny to write a story about how that was the case, but he was not happy about it.

i haven't wrote anything since last september. no songs or stories.
just feel kinda vacant all the time and then crazy sometimes.
when i feel vacant i sit and watch people.
when i feel crazy i get drunk then fall asleep.

i finished putting together a compilation of songs recorded at total trash.
it's called "space trash" and i put it out on tape.
i tried to put it online but couldn't figure that out.
if anyone wants one, let me know.

"after getting hit by a car" a review of DOOLITTLE

2009-10-27T11:05:00.000-07:00

two days ago i got hit by a car after getting off from work.
i was riding on my bicycle and ran into a car door and then the ground.
i laid there for two seconds and then got up quickly and went home.
when i got home i listened to the pixies album "doolittle".
this album is perfect for people who have gotten hit by a car and want the world to end.
the songs are about destruction mixed with surrealism and biblical references.
i laid on my bed and cried a little and then just looked at the wall and was kind of shaking.
i was enjoying this experience for what it was.
i made it to the third song "wave of mutilation" and day dreamed of suicide.
then came "i bleed" and i smiled.
i felt good listening to music.
it sounded new and different.
i was delirious and didn't know my name but there was music and everything was funny.
later that day i went to the platitudes show i was supposed to play.
someone gave me two pain killers and i stood on the main street of the town i live in and mumbled songs from "doolitlle".

"cease to resist, giving my goodbye
drive my car into the ocean
you'll think i'm dead, but i sail away
on a wave of mutilation"

dear blog,

2009-10-07T15:59:00.000-07:00

i am sorry but i started to hate you.
every time i thought about you there was a lot of bad things that surfaced.
i became immobile and mute and couldn't find anything to say.
just sort of laid around in a hot apartment, sweating and staring at things.
i kind of gave up on you and then started drinking every night
and this lead up until last night when i blacked out and i can't remember anything.
someone said they saw me in some apartment at 3 a.m. dancing to Tupac.
this to me is completely believable and i wish i could recall that happening.

today i am in control of my emotions.
i went to the library and checked out "pet sounds" by the beach boys.
i sat around in my living room and listened to this three times consecutively.
i went to the grocery store and used the rest of my food stamp money for the month ($14)
to buy five cans of beans, a bag of red onions, and the cheapest espresso i could find.
i then said "i love america" but in a sarcastic tone implying that i didn't mean what i said.
going to play some shows the next couple of days.
one in orlando and then somewhere else and then this show:

okay. i am going to go somewhere else now.

sleep forever

2009-08-17T09:43:00.000-07:00

i'm trying to learn how to lucid dream.
my dreams are mostly nightmares and i want to have control of them.
i want to be able to decide on going somewhere in my dreams and then go there.
i would make a list of all the places i want to go so i don't run out of places.
i think the first place i would go is mars. maybe.
i don't know. it would be nice to sleep all of the time.
i think if i figure out how to lucid dream i will always be sleeping.
i feel that is good and bad.
i feel like i don't really care though.
i have been playing a lot of shows, not sleeping and recording music.
i have watched a band called magic and the johnsons play at 5 a.m. in my friends garage the last two days.
i enjoyed hearing really loud music being played in the middle of the night.
makes me feel good or something.
someone did a review of a cd i play on here.
i liked the picture they used.
i think it describes what life should be.
how life should be.
maybe i will sleep forever at last with lucid dreaming.
i think some bar band in gainesville used the term "sleep forever" in one of their songs.
i think they are stupid and don't know anything about sleeping forever.

woke up at 4 p.m.

2009-07-31T16:12:00.000-07:00

david fishkind from massachusetts did a comprehensive review of 'russia' by the mystery books. i think he does a good job at describing the songs and i like that it is in-depth and describes each song individually from a personal perspective.

tao lin posted about a t-shirt that i made. my friend matty and i have been screen printing t-shrits. we did an 'author' series including joy williams, david sedaris and also roberto bolano as well as bootleg punk band t-shirts and some other things.

i got a poem published bu muu muu house. it is called 'i want drive my car into the ocean really slowly like a turtle'

today i woke up at 4 p.m. and i feel like i don't know what to do with my life.
i have felt this way so many times before today and i don't think this will be the the last time.
fuck.
i want to get a dog and name it 'obama' so that i can walk around outside and yell 'obama' really loud. i would feel better if i did that.

new poem for "wall attack"

2009-07-25T15:13:00.000-07:00

this is a poem i wrote for the "wall attack".
doing a "wall attack" consists of writing a poem, printing it onto paper and then with glue or some sort of adhesive putting them on walls. it is a way of posting thoughts or ideas for the general public to view. some people in gainesville, fl wrote about the old dirty bastard for this edition.
thank you for supporting the arts.

suffocating in blubber

old dirty bastard wakes up at six in the morning shouting:

“so much blubber
i can’t take it no more.”

he had a nightmare about his mother turning into a whale

when he was hugging her and almost suffocating in all of the whale blubber.

he feels distanced from his life as a rap star

and finds himself holding onto the sheets of his bed

as if the sheets were a person and staring blankly at the wall thinking about his life.

he wonders what he did last night.

he doesn’t remember how he is supposed to act around people.

he can remember one time waking up after school when he was six years old

he heard the sounds of his mother making dinner in the adjacent room.

this memory is one of the few that he has of his childhood and he clings to it desperately.

he remembers the smell of beef tip noodles

and the sounds of the food making noises.

he thinks of his mother in the kitchen frying the beef

and feels good that he was not raised by a whale but instead by a caring gentle human

then quickly without hesitation he says out loud to himself:

“i just wanna sleep foreva and live in these dreams from now on,
you know what I mean.”

he closes his eyes and begins snoring with his mouth wide open

leaving his large golden teeth shining and illuminating the room

making everything look extraordinary.

it will never occur to him that no one could possibly know what he means.

7/22/09

2009-07-22T19:06:00.000-07:00

i keep writing the first paragraph of different stories i want to write.
i never get any further than the first paragraph.
i have created a world of boring dull characters
who are all sad for some reason.
feel all of the stories will be incredibly aimless and would leave the reader
frustrated that the story never did anything.
completely on the surface of things and never going anywhere.

i donated plasma from my body today.
i got $25 for what looked like a pint of plasma.
watched my blood leave and then return into me and wanted to cry.
life seems disappointing.
human beings seem disgusting.
everyone seems to be dying or going crazy.
talked to an old friend on the phone
and was afraid of this person i no longer know.
he was talking in different voices
and yelling things in an aggressive and serious tone.
i found out yesterday that someone from my high school killed himself.
it seems to puts things in perspective, kind of.

it's been four years since i dropped out of school.
i have lived in different parts of the country in those four years
and also traveled to some places and looked at some things.
i no longer know anyone from high school but i remember them all
and i also remember the one who gave up on his life.
i feel i have given up on my life a long time ago
and wish this person was alive to be depressed with me.
dying complicates things.

today i will do nothing but quote the old dirty bastard

2009-07-15T17:29:00.000-07:00

"Dirt McGirt comes from Dirt McGirt Island. It’s a place that’s right off the block from the next island off of Batman Island. I can’t let you know exactly where it is––it’s a secret, you know? Wonder Woman told me not to say nothing."

"I'm going out of my fucking mind every time I get around devils"

"While you sleep I be the guard on point, with Scottie Pippen"

"Lookin' for new girls to put babies in." -- When asked what his plans were for 1998

"It's like Picasso making a new picture. It feels good" -- On why he changed his name so often.

"There's no more ODB no more. No, there's no more Osiris, that's all lies. From now on, my name is Big Baby Jesus. I always been Jesus, I don't know what the big secret's been all these years. Hanging pictures up on the wall and crosses and things of that nature, I mean, it's all good, but the truth's gonna be revealed one day, and one day the truth's been revealed."

"make the rocks disappear" -- Following a 1999 arrest for possession of crack cocaine.

"I'm into all assholes. I like it because it's tinier than a pussyhole. It's so tiny, it's tinier than a clitoris. When I get the feeling of licking a york peppermint patty, it's a sensation."

"Every girl I saw on T.V., her ass looked funny to me."

"I kill all my enemies at birth."

"Stay up all night don't sleep on your moon"

"I went and bought me an outfit today that costed a lot of money today, youknowImean?, 'cause I figured that Wu-Tang was gonna win! I don't know how y'all see it, but when it comes to the children, Wu-Tang is for the children! We teach the children! You know what I mean? Puffy is good, but Wu-Tang is the best! Okay? I want you all to know that this is ODB, and I love you all, peace!" -- Yelling to the crowd at the Grammys, after losing the Best Rap Album grammy to Puff Daddy.

-All quotes from The Old Dirty Bastard also known as Big Baby Jesus

the easter parade by richard yates

2009-07-12T14:14:00.000-07:00

i finished reading "the easter parade" by richard yates today. it was the first book i have read by richard yates.

it is about two little sisters that grow into teenagers and then women and finally old women. mostly about one of the girls named emily because the other sister gets married and doesn't do much. a lot of the book is about emily's failed relationships with men. i like that the book focuses so strongly on failed relationships. i could relate a lot with the main character because of her loneliness and her problem with people. one of the last lines in the book was to me the best line in the book:

"Yes I'm tired." she said.
"And do you want to know a funny thing? I'm almost fifty years old and I've never understood anything in my whole life."

*

i think this novel inspired me to write my own novel and i think i will start working on that soon. i want it to be slightly autobiographical with a strong focus on failed relationships. i want it to be strongly depressing, so there will probably be a lot death and other sad things in the novel. i look forward to having something to work on and thank you mr. yates for the much needed good read.

2009-07-10T14:41:00.000-07:00

i drew this person yesterday.
i think that it is not actually a person.
i think it is something else.
if you asked it what it's name was it would say "fuck america".
if you tried to touch it, it would turn green and you would become slime.
if you wanted to love it, you would have to replace your heart with a stone.
because it is stone fucking cold.
you can call it that. "stone fucking cold".
i would like that.

you know things have gotten bad when you stare at the wall all day
and repeatedly think "i hate this life" without any hope left for it to change.
seriously don't know what to do with myself anymore.
feel so out of it and tired and bored.
my eyes and everything inside of me moves so slowly
and pointlessly around in circles, going nowhere.
i wanted to be extraordinary when i was little and feel i have failed to do that.
feel stone fucking cold and that doesn't describe the half of it.
need to write vulgar things in my notebook to feel i am still alive.

dramatically vulgar and tragically confused thoughts surface and i would rather be sleeping or something

2009-07-09T12:02:00.000-07:00

i like the 10,000 Maniacs and i'm not sure that i like anything else anymore.
i like them because i like listening to their records and reading the lyrics
from the record sleeve.
i don't know.
i think that natalie merchant has a unique voice that i like. and the band is good too.
i feel like a seven year old trying to write something about his favorite band.
i like how that feels.
i realized just now that i hate the 10,000 maniacs and i also hate everything else in the world.
thank you for reading this blog post.

I have been writing famous people lately.

2009-06-08T09:54:00.001-07:00

Feels like I can't write to them fast enough.
Or at least, I can't find addresses to send letters to quickly enough.
I like the idea of writing people that I do not know.
I have written to Phil Spector and Elvis Costello.
Phil Spector shot his wife
and then came out of his house and said
"I think I just shot someone."
Seems like something everyone will eventually get to say.
Eventually.
Anyway.
Anyone have an address they can send to me.
I am in need of a lot
and have very little.

2009-05-30T12:34:00.000-07:00

It feels like nothing matters.
Now it is summer.
For some reason it feels like it will be the last one.
Reading dark books and listening to dark records.
Feeling somewhat dark and alone.
Keep having extreme ideas or desire to have extreme ideas.
Not sure what anything means.
Not sure if it matters.
I don't care and it feels okay.
Feels decent to give up on things.
It is time to give up on a lot of things.
Feeling bored with people
but in a way that is good
like I am over them.
Keep thinking "I am over people"
and then going to parties and staring at them.
They look like strange animals with drinks in their hands.
It is funny
and I laugh.

2009-05-23T01:22:00.000-07:00

Loveless

I buried my love for you one day.
I stood on a little hill somewhere inside of me,
and with a shovel
started to dig into the dirt.
It took an entire day to dig a hole deep enough
for the love
because love takes up a lot of room and space for me.
I threw the love carelessly into the hole
and filled it back up with dirt
and then cried on the little hill inside of me.
I didn't want to bury my love
for you,
but I felt as if it were crushing me,
especially at night.
My eyes were tired
and all they wanted to do was sleep,
but I had too many thoughts
and sleep was impossible.
Now that I've buried my love for you,
I will marry my bed
and sleep for a couple of months.
When I come back all of my relationships
will be much more efficient
because I will only use people as tools.
Emotionless machines
that I will chose carefully and treat kindly.

I never wanted for this to happen,
but there is nothing left I can do.
Good-bye to love
and good-night for now.
I will miss you,
I hope that I care.

2009-05-18T10:58:00.001-07:00

The Final Shriek of the Dying Bird

The day seemed decent for once.
The air dry,
and moving quickly along the surface of the earth,
making the leaves and the spanish moss
sway and dance in the middle of the day.
Everything was fine
until I heard some sort of a death sound
that came through my right ear.
I looked over
and squinted my eyes
because the sun was burning brightly.
I saw a bird in the mouth of a cat.
I realized then that the bird was being eaten alive.
It was making a shrieking sound
that only something purely terrified can make.
It didn’t want to die and that was obvious and audible.
It wanted nothing but for life to prevail for itself.
There were other birds too,
five of them maybe,
circling around the scene,
swooping down sometimes,
and making loud sounds that were high pitched and frequent.

None of them wanted death upon anything.
Revenge possibly,
but not death.
It was refreshing.

The sounds of the birds were immediately
burned into my brain
and I was left with nothing but intensity,
and the final shriek of the dying bird.

2009-05-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

Fierce Red Ants

I chugged espresso
and then went outside
and stared down
at an anthill in full activity.
Hundreds of red ants
spazzing consistently in the heat.
I wanted to lay my head down
on top of the ant hill
and let them crawl all over my body.
I would allow them to consume me
and murder me
and carry me down into their chamber.
Allowing myself to become
the same as a bread crumb
or any other trash you would find
rotting in the garbage.
Wanting to become thousands of tiny crumbs
for hundreds of ants
and a queen.

I find myself daydreaming of being eaten alive by
fierce red ants
and the day has just begun.

aaaahhhhhhh

2009-04-29T23:19:00.001-07:00

(a comic by Matt D'Angelo)
(click to enlarge)

__________________________________

Practically a Bird

Tonight the wind was extraordinary.
I closed my eyes,
spread out my arms,
and pretended I was a bird
flying through the air.
I imagined looking down at the tops of the trees
and they looked like little green scrubs,
divided by dark grey lines
and small brown squares.
I wondered if birds
passed by other birds
when they fly through the air,
and if they had a system worked out
so they don’t run into one another.
I spent some time thinking about this
and a few other things about being a bird,
and then opened my eyes.
I had never felt so stuck to the ground before.

_____________________________________

2009-04-02T13:19:00.000-07:00

Like Jesus' Blood

There was a hole in the road
and then the front tire of my bicycle went into the hole.
It was something bad that was happening,
and then my face
met the face of the cold, flat earth.

I felt a tingly sensation on my right cheek,
and something warm and thick started flowing outwards.
Whatever was flowing felt okay and went onto the ground,
and then into my mouth.
It tasted salty and good.

It reminded me of being six years old.
I remember running around when it was sunny and hot,
and when the grass was a good,
different kind of green.
I was thirsty and I drank out of a rusty water faucet
in the back of a church.
I remember the water tasted weird,
like jesus’ blood.

So what is in my mouth is probably blood
and what happened is that I have fallen,
I think,
badly,
and I am now laying,
probably somewhere in the middle of the street.
If I lay here long enough maybe a car will come
and help me
or maybe run over my body
with their new shiny rubber tires.
I hope for the first one,
but then change my mind and pray for the second one.

I want to reach over and turn out the light,
but the light is a street light
and it is far away and radiating.

I like going to sleep
and also sleeping alone.
I don’t need anyone in my life
to blame for ruining my life.
My life is fine.
It seems okay right now,
as I wait for the car to come and save
or possible destroy it.

2009-03-28T23:53:00.000-07:00

i think i give up on having a blog.
i don't know.
i feel like everything sucks alot.
all my thoughts are heavy and i can feel them
as sharp pains in my upper chest tonight.
my sleeping pills aren't working but i just took two more.
okay.
good night.

2009-03-20T21:07:00.002-07:00

I have forgotten how to write things.
I also forgot how to sleep and eat properly.
Things have been happening and then I look back and hardly feel any sort of emotion about the events that have happened.
I don't know.

________________________________

Emotions Of Choice

Sometimes I’m bad a gauging things
and I don’t know weather I should laugh or cry.
I try crying first
and it comes out dry,
so I laugh,
and the laugh seems hallow almost.
I find myself wondering what emotion I should use today.

It makes me think back to elementary school
when I saw a chart of emotions as a poster hanging on the wall.
There were simple drawings next to the names to illustrate the emotion
and I remember being very young and looking at it,
wondering which one I should wear for the day.
It seemed too easy
and I tried on different ones until I felt fulfilled.

My emotions have always run wild
and been hard to tame.
I like to think of them as wild sheep
with angry,
blood shot eyes.

But still I think I have always been able to choose them,
just like when I looked at the poster on the wall.
It has always been that easy, hasn’t it?

My emotions of choice:

Sad and Lonely.

_____________________

2009-03-10T15:04:00.000-07:00

On getting old

Today I imagined my death as a distant thing.
Something I know will happen
but there is still a lot of time.
I like the thought of being old.
I imagine my eyes drooping
and wrinkle lines on my forehead.
I want to have nice clothes
and antiques around the house.
I wonder what antiques will look like when I am old.
Laptops and MP3 players will by then be considered antiques.
I don’t want for that to happen,
but it will.

I want to be old and have a garden.
I want to sit next to the garden in the evenings
and read books and look around at things.
I want to have long days;
wake up early,
drink coffee in the mornings
and then spend days doing little things around the house.

I will still communicate like a child at an old age, I suppose.
Or maybe more like a drunken adult.
Only stating the embarrassingly obvious things about life
and never using any decent words.

Taking my time because
there was always too much time anyway.

Sometimes I want to close my eyes,
and then open them,
and be seventy years old.
Letting fifty years pass with the blink of the eye.

_________________________________________

I wrote a song called "Until there is No Skin"
You can listen to a live recording of it here.
Here's the lyrics.
Until There Is No Skin

I decided to give up today.
Woke up alone in the afternoon.
I felt a new feeling today,
one that says:
“I don’t care and I give in.”

The sun felt good outside today.
My thoughts hidden somewhere inside my brain.
Feeling desperate,
like little pins poking at my skin.
Until there is no skin.

_________________________

2009-02-26T20:16:00.001-08:00

I Internalize Everything

The night was dark.
There were owls in the woods
next to my house making strange sounds.
The sounds were deeper and longer than normally.
I felt they were trying to tell me something,
but then I thought I was probably over-analyzing things
and forgot about them.
I put on three layers of clothes and went outside.

I am going to the store to buy a can of beans and a loaf of wheat bread.
I am poor and don’t work very often.
Hopefully I will be able to steal the bread and the beans,
but the bread is so big
and I’ve always been a terrible shoplifter.
I think that it’s mostly because of my anxiety.
If I had Xanax I could steal the bread,
confidently sticking it underneath my sweat shirt,
but I don’t have any Xanax,
so I will probably just buy the bread and I am okay with that.

When I got to the store it was bright and gigantic
and I felt like a frightened eight year old girl.
There was a person standing by the door
and it is their job to greet and smile at me.
I thought then that heaven wouldn’t be some abstract cloudy lounge in the sky,
it would be a grocery store where you don’t have to pay for anything.
Only the person who says “hello”
would be much more attractive,
and would be wearing a much more soothing color scheme.
I felt as if I had died because the lighting was so extreme
and the color scheme was so bad.

I spent the next hour of my life walking around and looking at things
in the grocery department.
Then I felt like people started to gawk at me with their eyes and I thought:
“I have to leave now!”
and then purchased the bread and beans and walked passed the gawking eyes until it was black again;
back outside .

On my way walking home
I tried communicating telepathically with someone,
saying:
“Come to my house”
and
“I feel lonely”.
Either I hadn’t tried hard enough
or I don’t know how to communicate in this manner,
because when I arrived at my house
no one was there.

The owls were starring down from the trees.
Their eyes looked hungrily around observing things.
“I am terrified of owls”
I thought and then rushed inside,
fumbling with my keys.
I threw my possessions onto to the floor of my room,
closed the door behind me,
and spent the rest of the night alone
communicating with myself.

“It is too dark outside tonight”
I said to myself.

A few hours later I fell asleep sitting on the ground
with a beer in my hand
and then woke up in the middle of the night,
went into the bathroom,
looked at myself in the mirror
and hated what I saw.

I saw two blood shot eyes
and a night of restless sleep ahead of me.

2009-02-19T21:44:00.001-08:00

Memories

I could describe them as lifeless
and that would be accurate.
Inactive, almost.
They are there, somewhere,
but hidden;
maybe slowly sunken
below a thought process
or a conversation.

They are not all bad,
some are good.
I need to tell you everything
that I can still remember
before I forget them.

And I will always look to you as an external hard drive,
storing this information.
I hope that you have a good memory
because otherwise
I am fucked.

__________________________

Aimless

I walked through the rain
on my way to the library.

I imagined the air was water and the rain was air bubbles
and I was somewhere under the Atlantic Ocean.

And the cars were floating clams
and the people were small squids.

I laughed out loud at a person riding a bicycle:

A squid on a bicycle.
someone should make that into a comic.

And then I thought about her.
she probably feels insecure,
or maybe she doesn't understand why I'm laughing.
it's not every day that you see these things.

How could I explain my thought process to her,
and how could I possibly know what she was thinking?

Maybe I should pretend I'm crazy and on drugs or something.
It's fun to pretend like that.

When I was fourteen,
my friend pretended she was dead,
lying down
with her arms lifeless in the air,
in a red wagon
while I pushed her through suburban streets,
acting like I was openly murdering people
and moving them around in the daylight.

I didn't care if people would approve of my unusually destructive behavior.

It is hard to explain why that was funny to me,
and especially now,
when the buildings I walk by are giant coral reefs.

___________________________

ON WALL ATTACKS

2009-02-14T18:59:00.000-08:00

Habib

When I was in middle school
I told you that I loved anything
written about the great depression
because it was sure to be depressing.
I read The Grapes of Wrath
two times that year;
thoroughly and consecutively.

Eight years later
I wrote a song about you
that says:
“A whole life
in search of you”

I know exactly where you live.
I have your address.
You live on west mcmillian street
above a funeral home
on top of a hill,
over looking a mid-western park
with trees in it.

I went there one time
but you weren’t there.
You were my only friend
and you weren’t there!

I went back to my father’s car
that I borrowed to go see you
and cried
twenty miles
into the suburbs.

Then I turned off the car,
walked from the car to the basement
and then crawled into bed.

Later in the song
it says:
“a whole life spent crying
and I’m not exactly sure why,
oh why!”

__________________________

READ THE GODS ARE LONELY IN ESPANOL
I have some poems that were recently translated into Spanish by Andy Riverbed.
You can read them on his website or the gods are lonely in epsanol.
"The Day Hours Will Eventually Destroy You"
"Aimless"

_____________________________

2009-02-09T20:28:00.000-08:00

DEAD THINGS THAT FOLLOW ME

There is a medium-sized
cockerspaniel dog
with large clumps of hair slightly covering its eyes.
Sometimes it runs into things,
thin things mostly:
street poles or parking meters,
and then it sprints for awhile
to fulfill its position
behind me.

There is a black cat
that is average in weight and size
and is very grumpy all the time.
It walks at a slow, steady speed,
and always at the same slow and steady speed.
I remember lying on my bed
when I was younger with it
afraid to move
because it would get upset;
I spoke to it very seriously,
and told it about all of the people that I hated from school.

There is a woman,
that is mother.
She looks as strong
as I remember her.
Standing next to her
is her father,
proud and grinning,
and her brother-in-law,
alert and occupied with something surrounding him.

They always follow me,
and they mingle with each other,
and with the world
and with other spirits that belong to living people
and also with the lonely spirits that belong to no one.
They fill up space
I once thought was empty.

They’re scattered around
and lying on my floor, bored,
as I lie on my bed, bored,
and staring at the wall.

I’ve never been afraid of being alone
because I know I’m never alone.
Does that make any sense?

______________________________________

2009-02-05T20:40:00.000-08:00

“I have to leave soon”

Last night I thought about dying.

I thought about jumping in front of a truck on the street,
and then being shot forward so fast
and at an angle,
that another car going to opposite direction
would hit me as well,
and then I would be propelled though the air,
going at a different direction and at a different speed
until I hit the ground,
which at that point,
would probably feel okay.

I thought about going into Wal-Greens
and buying four bottles of sleeping pills.
I would be crying by the time I got to the cash register
and I wouldn’t even look the person in the eyes.
I thought about how long it would take me to consume
four bottles of sleeping pills.
I would line them all out on the floor
like domino’s,
and then move my body around the room
until I ate all of them,
one by one.

Then I thought about closing my eyes
and letting my bike roll though a busy intersection.
I would hear the screeching of tires
and the lonely sound of car horns honking.

That seemed too easy,
so I thought about driving into the country
and finding an isolated spot on a hill
to dig a deep hole into the earth.
Then I would put the dirt back into the hole loosely,
so that I could crawl to the bottom
and disappear.

I thought for so long about these things yesterday,
and then I took three sleeping pills at six o’clock in the afternoon,
woke up at one in the morning,
took four more sleeping pills,
and then woke up today at noon
to the sound of light rain and also to the sound of cars driving in the light rain.
I felt so far away from myself
that I thought I was still dreaming or maybe even already dead.

I couldn’t tell if I was a living person dreaming of death,
or a dead person dreaming of being alive.
It was a strange thought
that caught me
off guard.

______________________________________

This is a picture I drew of Andy Riverbed in the form of an over weight ferret.

I like it alot when people look like their pets and I think he looks alot like his pet, Popcorn.

Popcorn can be seen at the end of the "Utterly Confused" video.

______________________________________

This is a person from Maine.

He probably wakes up early in the morning everyday and feels depressed.

Everyone in the state of Maine probably wakes up early and feels depressed.

I live in Florida and I wake up sometime in the afternoon or early evening and then go back to sleep because of these things.

new music video

2009-02-03T09:49:00.000-08:00

I made this last night.

"utterly confused"
the mystery books

my thought for today

2009-01-31T18:37:00.000-08:00

I woke up today and thought
"I am going to start a blog
because my life is stupid."

Here are some poems that I wrote recently:

THE GODS ARE LONELY

The Gods are lonely because no one talks to them anymore.
They exist in some other place and we have forgotten about them.
The Gods wake up every morning and have a hangover from taking too many sleeping pills.
They feel distant and insignificant.
If you feel a certain way for a long period of time,
you become that feeling.
The gods have become distant and insignificant.
I have no reason to capitalize the "g" in "god",
because it is unnecessary.

After awhile you will lose interest in people
and then you will be bored and want something else.
I have figured these things out and now I just want to sleep
because the more I sleep, the less interested I am in this world.

The other day I played a show
and dedicated a song to sleeping pills.
Is this making any sense?

I think that I am alone now,
because I have felt alone for as long as I can remember.
When I look at things I see them abstractly,
which means I could never engage in a serious conversation with anyone.
I honestly don't like people,
but I would like to lie next to one in a bed sometimes,
and fall asleep watching rare Morrissey videos
that I have now learned
are hard to find
on the internet.

I walked for twenty three blocks and I kept dropping my things.
I didn't drop them because I was clumsy,
but because I have become completely detached from myself.
Most of the time I feel this way.
The gods are unnecessary because they have no control over their emotions.
It is a sad thing to happen to such lonely giants.

Vague Things

I woke up today unable to process my surroundings.
There was a mirror standing in front of me on the wall
leaning at a slight degree,
and I stared at myself from a weird angle
that I was unable to process at that point in my life.

How good it would feel to have nothing
but a dark room and a comfortable bed.
I want to buy a house with the money that I will find just lying on the street one day,
and board up all of the windows and doors
so that no light comes in or out.

People will not understand,
but what I need now is nothing
but a dark room and a comfortable bed.

The things that I want to do most
at this point in my existence
is to sleep for much longer than most people would even imagine,
obtain a collection of different brightly colored anti-depressant pills,
and listen to music from people that have by now murdered themselves,
passionately,
late at night and by a candle.

"Somewhere someone feels something drastically better or slightly worse
than some thing inside of my brain that can I feel right now."

My mind can think of nothing else,
but that is all that I need at this point in my life.

Something vague and substantial.

THINGS I MEANT TO SAY

I met you at a bar when you told me that your girlfriend was leaving you.
I found you there by yourself,
drinking cheap beer and talking on the phone.
Sometimes I am amazed at how proactive you can be.
You will spend the rest of the day drinking,
and then use the rest of your welfare money
to buy strong narcotics,
and then you will wake up tomorrow
and feel slightly worse than you did today.

I mumbled that under my breath
and then stared intently at the glossy bar table beneath me.
I could see both of us in the reflection
and we looked like two people
who never leave the house,
and who call each other every day,
almost crying,
for reasons I am sure
I will never fully understand.

I remember when you described to me
the only time you thought about killing yourself.
You were young
and you imagined yourself walking away from your mother
on top of a power line,
and then jumping
and suddenly falling to your death.
I didn't tell you that I used to imagine my death almost every day,
and I didn't tell you about all of the half-hearted attempts
of drowning myself in a bathtub in Ohio.
I didn't say anything.
I just looked out of the window,
and stared down at the power lines,
five stories high.

*

When I left you at the bar
I went into Albertsons
and was amazed at how brightly colored everything was.
Everything appeared to be glowing,
and my heart was beating faster,
and my thoughts were more rapid, and quick.

I suddenly thought about the time I saw you fall
after you drank an entire bottle of vodka.
You reminded me of a collapsing tree
and I rushed over to you,
and then looked down at you.
Your teeth looked like dull, clumsy icicles arranged in your mouth and bleeding.

You were looking up at me
and I wanted to tell you that I will probably always love you,
even if I never heard from you again.
But you were bleeding and scared
and I felt the same way.
So instead of being emotional,
I just held you,
and stared down at your clumsy teeth,
wondering how I ever went so long without breaking mine.