Ow.

I've said it before, but pain sucks. It's like, every time I'm burned, I'm always like "I know this is obvious, but getting burned hurts."

It's so blunt too. Like, the hurting part is literally the worse part. Bleeding, scabs, etc; these would all be fine if there was no pain.

Like, I skinned my knee the other day, hit my elbow and chipped my thumb too. But guess what? It hurt. It still hurts. That sucks.

Oh, and sometimes it doesn't hurt right away, like the time I got tendinitis in my knee. Just woke up and it hurt so bad. That sucked!

Man, pain hurts.

Honest List

Things I Want:
Sex
A sandwich
Jazz Records
Tuesday Night Listening Parties
Snow Storms

Things I don't Want:
Sunburns
A job
Depression

Things I'm afraid of:
Heights

Other Things:
M************ (Ask me about it!)
Frustration

Things I Don't Believe in:
God
Ghosts
Schrodinger's Cat

Things I do Believe in:
Ghosts
Schrodinger's Cat

Priapism and War.

The thing about writing poetry is you should keep it in a desk drawer and not tell anyone,
then go to war,
and it gets darker, then the years pass and it gets better
and your kids discover it,
except you didn't have kids or go to war or keep it in your desk,
it's on the internet
and little scraps of paper a
and it's terrible,

and nobody listens when you say what life is about because the dump was your mouth for a while and the trash covers up the gold, and metaphors and language are tools you use to take over the indigenous peoples of the world, and you can't even say the regular things, or do them,

despite being unremarkable.

2.

It's all about self limiting activities
like remembering to try my fingernails.

Meaning

I had a bicycle accident today, which was awesome. Kablam, down and out, rub me raw, road rash, slow time, perceive everything, how to be embarrassed.

Searching for meaning in Godzilla movies. What is our fascination with the gargantuan? Where is our modern day menace too large?

Hugs

Exchanged numbers with my old neighbor Oz. He asked that if I ever find an L-XL cardigan at a thrift to buy it and let him know. We used to talk about Native American history in his apt, and I would be uncomfortable because he had track marks and needle drugs. Also he has a spider-web tattoo on his neck, a glass eye, and a tattoo. Needless to say, he gave me a hug.

Brownsville.

Sitting stoic the steam train meaning thread machine winds up bobbin like while mysteries of the deep play meaning Mamas and the Poppas, but it could be the MOMA was right and the dirty stains will never wash out, gotta find somebody they should treat me like they should.

I've always had a hard time remembering. Getting it right is like watching somebody get it right. Who's driving this thing?

A cartoon behind the eyeballs, partially obscured vision with ocular canals, nose right out and of course the emergency exit, a sneeze.

Life is about putting all the things in the right places and then tipping them over to impress someone, because deconstruction is easier and more natural. Be yourself.

Memo From Hot Dan.

Memo:

So, you may have heard, I've changed my name to Hot Dan. I'm just kidding, but I heard from one of your gods that you were looking for me. I'm just kidding again though, I'm the only one, the only god. But you're still in trouble. Seriously. Like what, you think you're better than me or something. Self-doubt? My god. Oops, I misspoke. I'm God. So, like there was the original doubter, you know what I mean? Oh, you don't? What do they teach you in school anyway? Actually I don't give a shit. I mean, I'm like in charge and stuff. I could potentially do what-ever I want. Make you believe. I could change what a school is. I could make it be a llama filled with children. How'd the children get in there? They were salt. Get the reference? Oh. Damn. I'm back to that me, me, me, I, I, I shtick. My therapist thought it would be better if I tried to make it about something else. That's kind of why I created the world and people and problems and bliss. All that jazz. I created jazz too, by the way.

P.S. I would like to go on a date with any available women between the age of 21 and 29 who are active, fun, and who have a pulse.

-D.

Two Ways at Least.

Cold.
Mornings mean fall and fog.
Half-finger gloves and bike rides.

Cold mornings mean fall
and fog,
half-finger gloves and bike rides.

Cold morning's mean.
Fall and fog half.
Finger gloves
and bike rides.

Self Said.

My life is about how sometimes my guts hurt
and how sometimes my guts hurt because I don't have a job or a girlfriend or because I just ate a bunch of peanut butter and had a beer and maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

It's also about my knee.
How when I sit still it aches and when I move in a very certain way it doesn't.
How being specific in a very wrong way and how being wrong in a very specific way are actually pretty different when you say the wrong thing or be the wrong person.

Sometimes it's about crude notions.
How to kill a raccoon or how to just maim it.
Rat traps.
Or how people I don't know,
I don't care about them,
And I shouldn't have told people that,
ever, or again.
and I did, several times already.

My life is about when I'm ready,
And I'm ready now,
Just kidding.
I don't have that much insight.

Upon Viewing the Lake, Vomit.

Did you hear the one about
Me punching a whole
Basket of apples
Out the window
In your chest
That you call a heart
Attack of the killer
Ants which got
In your sand
Box
And ruined your tiny picnic?

About the Boy who won everything.

At 12 he won his first game of solitaire, ever, and never stopped winning. Coin flips. Rock, Paper, Scissors.

He even won at every basketball game, despite never practicing, despite never having any skill, despite never playing a game.

The Difficulty of Terrestrial/Lunar Missles and Ever Having a Relationship.

The moon is a terrible place to park your car when you haven't been in a relationship, in like ever.

The challenges to even getting a car on the moon are nearly insurmountable, similar to how difficult it is to be a 125 pound, red-haired, freckled, unemployed, misanthrope pigeon-holed never-to-be taken seriously.

It's a real stand-out affair though, to see a car finally get to the moon, and through your telescope you can see it up there, just like you can see me anytime you want, or if you have a friend they can see me too as long as they like books, coffee, art, music, bicycles, or anything.

What was arguably the most difficult part about getting that 1973 Cutlass Supreme onto the Sea of Tranquility was not knowing that much about the moon besides a single geographical reference to the Sea of Tranquility. Had it been Mars, it would have been easy to reference Olympus Mons, or that hill that looks like a face. Had it been the ocean it could have just been given a push out to sea over the Marianas Trench, which is probably pretty big and is most likely in the Atlantic ocean.

Really it was familiar territory, to kind of give it a shot and see what works, and since I wasn't actually driving, just kind of aiming an enormous cannon. Well, you get the picture.

A deluge,

Life is about cramming your gullet full; Not my gullet, your gullet.

I remember that when I was a child, I could fly. Not the everyday up-up and away. Low-flight pass-overs inches above the ground. Human Hovercraft. The body tries to trick you later. Flight is impossible. Maybe it's weight. Children are light. But that doesn't explain it.

My best guess, it's a belief thing, a not knowing any better. A child can accept flight. Sure, they might say, I can fly. And who's to tell them they can't if they are doing it. Like the boy who could only turn invisible when no one was looking. Of course, that boy died when he was struck by a driver at the wheel texting "I'd love to see that show with you, is there a cover?"

As an adult, it's too hard to become fervent about flight. Even the evangelical, it seems, are filled with self-doubt. Useless, to fly 3 inches above the ground. But, I really could fly. The thing is, I know how to fly still. It just takes more concentration. So much concentration, for 1 inch of flight for 1 second, for me, meant that my first self-generated lift left me constipated for 3 weeks. And on the second try I got a nosebleed, which become chronic, and forced the doctors to cauterize my nasal cavity.

Spooling Up.

I don't know what a darning foot does. I thought it had to do with sweaters or yarn, but then I looked in my tacklebox, which is full of sewing supplies -I'm fully stocked, like nuclear attack of the torn clothenings - and saw a foot with that name for my machine.

Darning. I've been watching a good deal of Battlestar Galactica. I'm slightly obsessive, or perhaps have an addictive personality and a heaping pile of free time. Life is about not getting jobs.

Reading gets more and more boring.

Treatise on the Discourse of Sound.

It was first noted and reported that the Genesis album "Invisible Touch" was primed for competition in 1986 by Peter Gabriel and "So."

We can expect from this blatant puppetry,

extreme stop-motion animation,

political satire with aplomb,

and vegetable facial reproduction.

1986.

From which we discovered about ourselves,

it's all downhill from here.
-decline

Sans Grifts.

It gets to be 2 o'clock too fast these days.
And I don't like salt on stuff.
They call it a flavor enhancer,
And I've got too much time on my hands.
Weight lifting.

Spanakopita.

Spanish Language Dissassociation
Technigques
Coksses-bloques.

Technologies for perspirations
and internatiosn.
Trying hard to be a lesbians
Through videostechnologiques.

Mircophoens natures maturation.

A latin beat to beat the meat.
Shitty references to the seventh seal

You don't get angry because you suck
and have opinoins about how to relax
and will one day have a dog that requires
maintenance.

IT's a front of glamour and nudity
that hides your secret desire to fit in.