He Would Have Laughed

Only bored as I get older
Find the ways to...
Cult of time

Only bored as I get older
Find new ways to spend my time

I'm a gold digging man
Find my money, find my land
I'm a gold digging man
I won't rest 'til I buy your land

Sweetness comes suffering
In sweetness comes suffering
I won't rest till I can't breathe
I can't breathe with you looking at me

I get bored as I get older
Can you help me figure this out?

Come on, dream on:

"I lived on a table - I don't know where to go. I know my friends would. . . I know where my friends are now. I lived on a farm, yeah. I never lived on a farm. Where did my friends go? Where did my friends go?"

What do you do when you're sleeping?
Where did you go when you said:
"I don't need nobody on my bond"
Where do your friends go?
Where do they see you?
What did you want to be?

- Deerhunter, Halcyon Digest 2010

I'm off to a peculiar start. It's like there's something wrong and I can't put my finger on what it is exactly. It seems like I'm searching for something but I don't know what I'm looking for. I'm forgetting something important and everyone know's what it is, except I do not. I'm lost today, maybe I dove too deep in all the writing yesterday. Today I feel like I need to surge to the surface for a blast of life-giving, forgiving air.

Moments like this, I wish for a full time job so that I could punch-in to work. Forget about my personal thoughts for 8 hours, switch into work-mode, and just let my 'self' rest. Maybe this week with Kacey here, I've been digging up too many buried confessions about my weaknesses. I feel exposed.

I'm taking a break from Facebook, I need respite. I wish it weren't a finger's touch away. Too much social networking makes me feel like I've put myself on an operating table and everyone's looking at my insides and I can't do anything about it because I'm sedated and drifting to and from reality.

I like this blog because, let's be real, no one reads it! Well, maybe 2 friends and they are like family. I can vent here and say whatever I want and get it off my chest and it remains unknown. Plus I don't know where my written journal is hiding today, so, here I am.


Rest circular thoughts,
rest...

This morning I awoke wanting to write again while the house is still sleeping. I awoke wanting to do a whole lot; thirsty for knowledge, hungry for activity.

Crazy connect-the-dots inside my brain today. Synapses zapping metaphors around these deep fissures.

My thoughts, zooming around like a fleet of small birds, blackspotting the sky. Droplets of memories and bits of information clinging to a hundred tangled mindwebs, occasionally coalescing, slipping down my spinal cord like a long icicle. Shiver.

Can you know me? Look into my eyes. Can you see the gold flecks shyly floating in there? Can you see the iris of rust acquiescing to the sea on an overcast day? Can you look through my pupils and tell that I'm not from here? Not from anywhere?

Wading up to my knees in a flooded street. Transparent windstorm. Starry glazed streetlights in the reflection of a storefront, dusty raisin sky like a smoothly rounded rootbeer waterglass.

Waking up in the middle of the night with heavy choking fear like swallowed cotton and humidity in a small dark corner of a bedroom. Fear of what? Today, tomorrow? Nothing. So I slumber into the bathroom and look at myself into the silver mirror. I look surprised.

Ok, maybe that's out of my system now. I don't know, it all definitely helps.



"I had that dream again
I'm exploring my (own) home: I happen across a door: that leads me to a room I've never seen."

- Photo by Brandon Boyd
From White Fluffy Clouds

I love what light in the sky can do in different situations. Moonlight on white clouds against black sky. Sunlight from one side of the atmosphere against bold clouds, it makes the sky taller. Eerie quiet light blinking during a lightening storm, electrons balancing and unbalancing, like a flashing strobe, a thousand snapping photographs. Rays of sun through smoke, like the edge of a beachfront. Bright, bright.


Photo by John Trujillo

- Brandon Boyd
White Fluffy Clouds

Love&Life,Life&Love

- Brandon Boyd
White Fluffy Clouds

Carla Swart

The beautiful, brilliant, heart of a pure champion. You will always be remembered.

Trish Keenan

Brilliant poet and musician. I will always hold Trish's music and close to my heart. All the good ones go too soon. It's as though they see too much, know too much. They're a catalyst of life.



I am grey, still on the page
Oh colour me in
Just an outline, sketchy but fine
Oh colour me in

If green is chasing the hills over miles
If blue is pursuing the sky
If the red of your heart doesn't mind
Where to begin to colour me in

Something new and nothing to do
I'm just the idea
I must be real cause somehow I feel
That I'm just the idea

Let's share the blue of the towering sky
The green of the hills that run by
Leave the red of your heart to decide
If you cannot choose which colour to use

I'll always wait, it's never too late
To colour me in
To colour me in

Today or next year
I'll always be near
if you want to colour me in