press on. thats it. keep going and don't look back in anger, actually don't look back much at all, that tends to deter everyone from the future, that whole living in the past thing, its not about what you did. who you hurt...well, thats a tough one.
A great singer and poet died and he was not recognized for his talent and ability, things got in the way, a way of life got in the way, it was a way of fun and pleasure, worth words of many sad ballads and joyful songs. I heard his voice before he died. For that I am eternally grateful.
I'm wracking my memory to recall the words to the songs he sang. One lyric he wrote that I will never forget:
"Everything you do comes back to you"
To the man who knew the true meaning of the line, the road goes on forever and the party never ends. You said you wanted a party not a funeral. Tonight I smoke, drink, and sing to you.
YOU MAY BE RIGHT Billy Joel
Friday night I crashed your party Saturday I said i'm sorry Sunday came and trashed me out again I was only having fun Wasn't hurting any one And we all enjoyed the weekend for a change
I've been stranded in the combat zone I walked through Bedford Stuy alone Even rode my motorcycle in the rain And you told me not to drive But I made it home alone So you said that only proves that i'm insane
You may be right I may be crazy But it just may be a lunatic your looking for Turn out the light Don't try to save me You may be wrong for all i know But you may be right
Remember how i found you there Alone in your electric chair I told you dirty jokes untill you smiled You were lonely for a man I said take me as i am Cause you might enjoy some madness for a while
Now think of all the years you tried to Find someone to satisfy you I might be as crazy as you say If i'm crazy then it's true That it's all because of you And you wouldn"t want me any other way
You may be right I may be crazy But it just may be a lunatic your looking for It's too late to fight It's too late to change me You may be wrong for all i know But you may be right
You may be right I may be crazy But it just may be a lunatic your looking for Turn out the light Don,t try to save me You may be wrong for all i know But you may be right You may be wrong but you may be right
nevers evers forgetful future remembers
Current mood: hungryness
Time for an overhaul. Back to the days of gold and straw, with wishes granted and dreams planted sprouting, but still keeping the firstborn and all. Well, not an overhaul, but a me-haul, as I'm going to regroup myself in a better configuration. I'm setting a new standard for me. It starts with breathing, and not breathing smoke. Also, eating, but not eating too much and only the right things at the right times, instead of gorging on this and that when I feel like it. More snacks and smaller meals. But I can't give up the occasional steak, and thank the universe and the gods for SUSHI!
I'm going to start attending yoga classes again, that was a good thing while it lasted. I'm going to stick to a workout schedule instead of grazing through weights and exercises like a cow with no cowbell, if that makes any sense. I'm on the lookout for a more fulfilling job cause being drunk everyday is starting to get too exciting, I need to find something more suited to losing myself in others instead of losing myself in myself, like that whole teaching thing, talking the talk for too long not to walk.
I still haven't decided what to do with my aortas and vessicles, as far as keeping them open or closing them off. I have a feeling that people can close a door thats open but a closed door is the least exciting. So leaving the door open to see who steps through is the best option. Its just that chemical imbalances irritate me, if people could mix better compounds and not forget what we learned in chemistry and apply the past and the future to the graduated cylinders of life, we could act more swiftly and know more quickly what element to keep cryogenicly frozen and which to drink...
Now that it was written, will it be done? My will be done?
Maybe if I cease using the "?" as well as the "..." and insist on the "." then done is done.
Two mice fell in a bucket of milk, one did laps, the other called in the bikini team, I'm the one who couldn't get reception and my battery died searching for service. I can't get any frickin' cell service in my new apartment, I have the best conversations these days, "hello...hello...sorry my service is bad, I said sorry my service is bad. what? I can't..."
Two squirrels were foraging in the woods, filling their mouths with as many acorns as they could. One started chocking on a nut and passed out from shock and suffocation, the other squirrel forgot how to perform CPR, so he took his homie's nuts instead.
Does that mean if you're not helping, you're hurting?
Currently
listening
:
Bazooka Tooth
By
Aesop Rock
Release date: 23 September, 2003
no more ?'s, just go to sleep
Current mood: dreamaphobic
If I go to sleep to dream, does that mean my feet aren't on the ground? Or is it more like my feet are on the ground, but I don't like where they stand and so I dream of other grounds... in hope? Maybe if I go to sleep, just to sleep then I will live the dream? Many good things have happened in the last week and some are dreams come true. So when I sleep I need to find new dreams, since these have arrived. I don't want all my dreams to come true, cause there is a nice tension and force that directs me to achieve my dreams, but when I achieve them, no more tension, no more striving, no more force? Ok, fuck the force, done with the force. Now I want to talk about tension. Wow, I love tension. Not always. Getting where you're going is good too. Aren't you glad this is going nowhere? Look,... you've arrived.
Now I think what I wrote was silly, but I'll leave it up for a bit, maybe I'll come back and rehash, or expand. I just heard the lyric in Fiona Apple's song, "I got my feet on the ground and I don't go to sleep to dream." Which is totally cool cause I go to sleep to cream, so I can relate. Eh? That's the news from Lake Woebegone. Yup, this is one of those moments that I know I need to not be on myspace, screwy little bloggy blog. Temptation, thats some good tension. The temptation to blog hit me, and it would have been better to leave it in temptation, but no, I had to. Now there's no tension, and its all a let down. Now I'm tacking a drag, and she's touching her face, and she's not in my space, and I'm losing my marbles and she's wanting more cowbell? Now I'm getting sick of this refferential writing. Here, lets solve that, I'm going to tell you a story: ....wait for it....
Today it was raining. I walked outside. I saw cars splashing huge sheets of water on each other. I was engaged in this engaging battle in my head between the cars trying to see which one was the bigger splasher. A huge brand spankin' new jeep thing that was styled like a hummer drove by at the same time that a little Mazda from the days of slap bracelets was driving the other direction. The Jeep won. What's the moral? It takes money to make money? The bigger splash gets the daydream gold? Buy Stuart and Stevenson, sell PM? Go back to the rock from which under you came? Keep your head up, when the chips are down? Everyone has their own hell to raze? Buy a nice pair of shoes if you want to have a good conversation with icing on the cake? Drink whenever you can? Keep your head in the clouds?
The message I took from this story was: if you have time to watch cars drive by, you can do much better if you would go climb a birch tree and make it bend down to the earth and then back up to the heavens. One can do much worse.
Currently
listening
:
Tidal
By
Fiona Apple
Release date: 23 July, 1996
I'm going to find my voice. Right now, as i write this I am finding a voice. This voice is what I've been searching for my whole life. this is the voice of simple. This is the voice of desire, but not pomp and posing. This is the voice I needed before she decided to turn away. The non-academic, the non-apathetic, the non-laxadazy, the non-negative (see, I did say non academic, oh shit!), this is the positive, the energetic, the honest, the humble, the jovial, the depressed, the sympathetic, the show-off and the recluse, the persistant, the calm, the exuberant, the silly, the ditzy, the dull, the bore, the interesting, the intriguing, (I don't want to keep writing this list)
me, me, me, me, me. ( if not here where?)
Voice of mine, unravel in this time, this moment right now, cause I'm really sick of living without. Don't you want to come with, don't be a dick, come on and kick it. I dare you. No one cares. Hey there, how can you turn down a dare?
Come with it, and bring your self doubting too, there's room for all of you.
hi, i'm danny's inner voice, i'm a little new to this, i need to wipe the yolk off my brow, hey danny? can you cut that chord i don't like your diet anyway, i want to eat whatever the fuck i please, screw you and all your veggies!
This is the voice I will use for the rest of my life. This is the sound and substance that I will build a life on. This is the voice that will keep me centered and sane, in day or night it will run in my veins. From head to toe, from back to front, this sound will rebound on any grounds, save coffee and maybe lunar bounds. With all this sound going forth, I hope I can still hear the voices of others out there.
ok, can i talk now? i think i have something to say in all this
weathered pipes and pinstripes
Current mood: no face for this amotional space
I blew so hard on my barbarian reep pipe that I broke the bridge that promised my passage. And this fall I achieved all by my all. Atleast I wasn't singing someone else's song. No not that self righteous pride thing, just in that ownership of actions angst. Two feathers from the same bird, the one that never flew. A sacrifice on the ashes of Regret at the funerals of Ego and Fear, those two imps being "too good" for Cremation's care.
Ends closing off and sealed in the cattalogue of errored histories. The past still veiling the present with caution and forewarning. The ties severed and the bonds broken leave an open fertile field inviting the next and the more suited.
My suit is worn further, weathered with another lesson, not diminishing the first promise. Suits don't fit the image like wines made more valuable with the aging. Suits do fit the fleeting feeling of wrinkles and faded photographs. No matter how far away you are, the antagonists laugh still strikes some chord inside. Innovation and creativity might save one from the perils ahead but what excuses have we for their failures in the past? Perils my ass, there isn't shit this turvy can throw that will break my rock hard moloko bones. Blowhard, don't we all?
Safe in nonspecific allusions I shallowly sit in fear of the shadow of shameless earnesty, that old fashioned majesty of responsibility and naivete. Lessons are meant to be repeated, dissabilities aside. Snide comments and insulting sarcasm doesn't fix the dripping faucet of that over expressive onslaught of better left unsaid, told you so's.
Honestly!?! Told you so.
When I know, so will you. But if you find out first, tell me too? Nevermind, hit the snooze.
Currently
listening
:
Being There
By
Wilco
Release date: 29 October, 1996
Completely out of nowhere, I want to write about Peter the Great, well, he's Russian, that's somewhere. I recently did some reading on this guy and I'm fucking amazed and inspired by the life he lived. There's some shitty things he did, but that's not the focus of this opus. Homeboy had the gusto to change the world he saw into the world he desired. That's some shit for ya, changing the world you see before your eyes into the one you see in your dreams. Where do we start? All I wanna know is who's coming with me? That's right, I'm taking the fish too. Anyway, back to Pete, this guy knew how to "bro-down" if you will. He was the frickin' Czar of Russia but he would run around St. Petersburg and help put out fires that sprang up in the poorer parts of the city where all the huts were wooden. 'Holmes would run naked in the snow with his whole entourage in the middle of the Russian winter, which is colder than a polar bears toe nail, fo' sho'-
The more I write this the worse it gets, I'm trying to use all this slang and spit out all these facts that I think are so cool. I could just wait until I'm in conversation with you guys at this or that bar and I'll let it all come out, about how he kicked ass and took names from start to finish. How he was a romantic and a great warrior too. One thing he said was, "Wasted time, like death cannot be reversed." And this guy lived every moment of his life with that same fervor. I'm sofaking lazy, its crazy and when I hear about things being done they always amaze me. Or mostly amaze me, cause i'm not that silly, just a lil' bit. So the guy inspires me. Not just cause he had all the money he needed, or all the women he wanted, or all the time in the world to do whatever it was he wanted to do. It's because he had all the freedom in the world and chose to do something to benefit his entire country and by extension the world at large. Then I remember all the freedoms that I have, that I was born with or blessed with or given or whatever you say about freedom that's just there without you doing anything for it to even exist - all this freedom that I have - and the problem is that there's so much more I could be doing with it. Maybe now I'm more inspired and I can turn back from my deviant ways of laziness and sloth. But the other problem is that this motivation, ...it's gonna wear off.
Currently
listening
:
The Will to Live
By
Ben Harper
Release date: 17 June, 1997
Prolly too many words for comfort
Current mood: If I knew, it wouldn't be this fun.
It's been far too long since I've tried singing this song and its melody, its sound, I can hear it now, that mixture of trickster and clown, with a bit of a frown, and that glowing of one mind's showing is coming back around to tempt knowledge gained from small towns to urban towers. Maybe soon, I'll have it fine tuned. Joy showers, washing pores clean, abraisive tools picked up and reused to refine that crusty build up of time and failures and histories unremembered, to make room for sights yet unseen that they may be swept into memory's safe keeping, which reminds me, what have you done for another lately? Not to scold or hold this hand above you, nor stand in front and lead the witch hunt, rather to stand beside and converse like allstars should, if they could. Scorpio to Capricorn to Taurus to that false guide Alpha Ursae Minoris, across the table, Orion's utlity belt might hold the key you seek, while the arch of his bow and arrow, at times, makes me weak. Facts of fiction triple that fear to knowledge. And the things I miss were never that far from where I sit. Or is it, stand? I won't know till I get there, and things don't have to be more clear, the truth in my questions can be understood in daily lessons, it's all elementary, it's been true for centuries, timeless tests, our souls can't rest, 21 grams of turmoil and passion, old news refashioned, standing or sitting, running when driven, work with what's given and search without surrender, I'm cut from my own timber, not saint and not wholly sinner, but no absolute without moderation, even that moderate motion guided in moderation - must it come to this dribble? this untruth-simple? filling with the puss of silliness this pothole of those who spake before I finished baking, "Go ahead, just repackage and curdle" refrain, refrain, feels good to have leapt over that hurdle, but there's no caging our prime mettle, each character in full can't fit on any one shelf, "That's why they make baskets!" sliced meat can't help itself, dulldrum shards of who once was found, now lost in sour hours of passions turn-twisted round, each moment its own flavor, each hour a simple clay, earthly and ribbed, at one time everything wore a bib, molding and growing out of one cacoon into new, if remaining true, seconds floating into each lust-brimming day, then all the bricks in a wall can't kill that voice that yawps to the tree tops, may it never stop. Dribble that morsel from mind to mouth and out. Tears can't build in ears like sounds. All works are works in progress, are they not? Answer me! Above this hustle in this city's bubble, evolving in my own struggle, I can't hear you. C'mon, the world is filled with plenty of sheep, don't be afraid to shout. if that is you, standing there why do you ask, "Why do you weep?" is it my ears? the worst of all fears, living without sensation foresaken, why give and take in one breath, is is was once heard twice can't always be nice insides are out, times come round about the completion fleeting, self-conscious kneading, "Escape with the butcher's daughter." thin lines treading, skins shedding, onions exposed posing still in shadows, hear the drums time filled this is the mouse that owl killed each part a morsel of the several courses classes and meals cooked with albatrosses conclusions arrive only with corpses
I have just been honored
Current mood: accomplished
The lab called with my results from a throat swab and finalized the hypothesis of strep throat. Sleeping in the middle of the night, waking up in a puddle of your sweat, taking off your rag of a shirt, rolling to the other side of the bed to crash for an hour, waking up again in a fresh puddle of sweat, now with nowhere to turn for a dry spot, the floor looks really comfy right now, throw off damp sheet and find the sliver of dryness in between the two puddles to balance your body on its side just long enough to sleep another hour atleast before you have to shower this crap off, and hope the rankness goes down the drain so you don't have everyone in class complaining. Strep thoat is a sensuous thing to relish in. Oh yeah, for those of you who might think that going out for a night of dancing would be a good idea to sweat the strep out, this is one simpleton that won't do that again. Right now I hate sweat so much I can't stand the smell of bacon! Not that I even eat bacon on a regular basis, but I used to actually like the smell, greasy as it is. On the positive side of things, thing in question being my bed, I'm extatic that I'm not talking about urine right now. Aren't you?
accomplished
M? Go back to the rock from which under you came? Keep your head up, when the chips are down? Everyone has their own hell to raze? Buy a nice pair of shoes if you want to have a good conversation with icing on the cake? Drink whenever you can? Keep your head in the clouds?
awake
