introduction to dismissal (original) (raw)

	[22 Dec 2003\|01:29am]
cutting off: the emotional cutting off: the physical cutting off: my skin (to the bone) so it doesn't yearn for your touch cutting off: my memory so it doesn't remind me of what I have given up cutting myself off limb by limb to dull the of pain of what I am doing to you
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agraytint	[20 Dec 2003\|09:05pm]
gray is the most important issue; a rainy day. that's when thunders clap. what are our hands; fools, of the audience? does lightning climb or does it "ha!ha! houdini,..."saunterdownthisstair[quoth Bugs, "watch out for that last step; it's a doozy!"],proud to be, itself, pure light and free from the shackles of tyranny (king of nothing at all). gray are the most important issue, and yet peeled from the sole of our shoe like two-ply angels, short a better half. by the way, i miss you. do you remember what i said about treating me like shit? well, it's true. "i'll stop the world and melt with you." the implications are_gratis_.i am not bored with wright or rong, and see more clearly than a concept... but right isn't white and wrong is not black.
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agraytint

[20 Dec 2003|09:05pm]

gray is the most important issue; a rainy day. that's when thunders clap. what are our hands; fools, of the audience? does lightning climb or does it "ha!ha! houdini,..."saunterdownthisstair[quoth Bugs, "watch out for that last step; it's a doozy!"],proud to be, itself, pure light and free from the shackles of tyranny (king of nothing at all). gray are the most important issue, and yet peeled from the sole of our shoe like two-ply angels, short a better half. by the way, i miss you. do you remember what i said about treating me like shit? well, it's true. "i'll stop the world and melt with you." the implications are_gratis_.i am not bored with wright or rong, and see more clearly than a concept... but right isn't white and wrong is not black.

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More than ever	[20 Dec 2003\|11:22pm]
give me your grief (and i will absorb it) give me your solitude (and i will hold its hand) give me your hurt (and i will swallow it) give me your resentment (and i will embrace it) i will carry them, carry them all, as i have always done even now. especially now despite my failure i just want you to be well
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ticket.	[14 Dec 2003\|12:31pm]
[ mood \| snow ] we're strewn amongst the devastation, pulling our fingers back, away from our palms, tugging at humanity, ignoring the inevitable: there are strangers at thedoor.
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Excerpt #5: "i will not pick a fight with you...i'd probably foul it up...	[25 Nov 2003\|03:00am]
( Read more...Collapse )Excerpt #4Has been said before to someone: to you must be said (re: us):although once – yes yes only once – this spit this spat (this this this that) crept steadily in on me – well at least someone – w/certain letters&stmts from a length (&longings) ago uncertain to you (who are you again) of a huffing of a sending & receiving of shoves & tuggs (no s & uh-huh s) in that die/rection (o)f a justice of a liberty of a layer: a sweatyprayer&goodnight – to go on w/that: my story of (re: us) : only legends can stack so much skin against such a mtn this in will go indeed I intend – for lost indeed never was I not (knot maybe – still aware stuck&swollen tied closed (my bundleweed heart – crankedunallowed)) & fiddledwith this heart this nothing (nomore) (for exist it does not) – see femme the sun the shun the gun the run all were set to blow irreversibly at the same time now ashes now singes now boils now swells I smell from the long lost center piece ofmeofyou - yes trudge trudge though the twenty somethings like I did stifled & stiff dead & adrift but alas and alas still trapped we are like two bees in a paper cup banging the outer-soft edge of a sadintimate neighborhood
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Excerpt #5: "i will not pick a fight with you...i'd probably foul it up...

[25 Nov 2003|03:00am]

**( Read more...Collapse )**Excerpt #4Has been said before to someone: to you must be said (re: us):although once – yes yes only once – this spit this spat (this this this that) crept steadily in on me – well at least someone – w/certain letters&stmts from a length (&longings) ago uncertain to you (who are you again) of a huffing of a sending & receiving of shoves & tuggs (no s & uh-huh s) in that die/rection (o)f a justice of a liberty of a layer: a sweatyprayer&goodnight – to go on w/that: my story of (re: us) : only legends can stack so much skin against such a mtn this in will go indeed I intend – for lost indeed never was I not (knot maybe – still aware stuck&swollen tied closed (my bundleweed heart – crankedunallowed)) & fiddledwith this heart this nothing (nomore) (for exist it does not) – see femme the sun the shun the gun the run all were set to blow irreversibly at the same time now ashes now singes now boils now swells I smell from the long lost center piece ofmeofyou - yes trudge trudge though the twenty somethings like I did stifled & stiff dead & adrift but alas and alas still trapped we are like two bees in a paper cup banging the outer-soft edge of a sadintimate neighborhood

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	[22 Nov 2003\|10:24am]
I am not alone. no, not alone. but I have to admit that there is a certain frequency that I am unreachable at: my grand mother sent me a birthday card. it was from her and "Al". I don't know Al and I don't know her. This is what I know of her:1)my grandfather and she got divorced before I was born.2)she is with Al3)each year, on my birthday which she does remember (I will give her that), she sends me a card that is about as personal as peanut butter4)one year, for Christmas, she sent me and my brother matching sigfried and roy tee-shirts two sizes too smallI don't even know her name. My father would have things different, but in truth, no one really wants anything to change or else things would be different. Things are as they are and are likely to stay the way they are. Deep inside me I wonder if this lady I would have to call my grandmother would be a decent person to know, to talk with knowing that she is my final grandmother. But I think that things will not change. She seems content in sending me a generic birthday card and I open it before throwing it out.
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[22 Nov 2003|10:24am]

I am not alone. no, not alone. but I have to admit that there is a certain frequency that I am unreachable at: my grand mother sent me a birthday card. it was from her and "Al". I don't know Al and I don't know her. This is what I know of her:1)my grandfather and she got divorced before I was born.2)she is with Al3)each year, on my birthday which she does remember (I will give her that), she sends me a card that is about as personal as peanut butter4)one year, for Christmas, she sent me and my brother matching sigfried and roy tee-shirts two sizes too smallI don't even know her name. My father would have things different, but in truth, no one really wants anything to change or else things would be different. Things are as they are and are likely to stay the way they are. Deep inside me I wonder if this lady I would have to call my grandmother would be a decent person to know, to talk with knowing that she is my final grandmother. But I think that things will not change. She seems content in sending me a generic birthday card and I open it before throwing it out.

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	[15 Nov 2003\|03:47pm]
i don't need to speak to most about the shakes yes and a cigarette needed to remain still or other displays
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	[01 Nov 2003\|05:52pm]
As fall descends, my spirit retreats into the bushes, further and further into the forest.Loosing myself in such a way makes tears seem irrelevant, therefore, I don’t cry.Dreary weather works its effect upon my affect. As the days shorten my desire to over-eat, add lean layers of fat to my body, is coupled with my desire to hibernate. I conspire to commit two deadly sins: gluttony and slothSeasonal affective disorder, major depressive disorder, bi-polar disorder, etc.—does giving them such names make my demons go away? Will they pull their devil claws from my soul and let me live?I am understanding that I can’t look for the meaning of life by searching, working for happiness. It is digging a hole to fill a hole. It is in pain and sadness that life’s meaning finds its most paternal roots. I must become more comfortable with holes.I seek enlightenment from great minds, from my cat’s movements, from the frost that cakes my window sill. The Buddha says that the first precept of life is pain. Is this why the harder I try to wake the further from the light I seem to be?Christ knew the pain of the crucifix. For some reason this makes me more comfortable with my pain and sadness. Yet, nothing pacifies my mind. So I’ll pump my pills and wait for another day to try to be happy.
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[01 Nov 2003|05:52pm]

As fall descends, my spirit retreats into the bushes, further and further into the forest.Loosing myself in such a way makes tears seem irrelevant, therefore, I don’t cry.Dreary weather works its effect upon my affect. As the days shorten my desire to over-eat, add lean layers of fat to my body, is coupled with my desire to hibernate. I conspire to commit two deadly sins: gluttony and slothSeasonal affective disorder, major depressive disorder, bi-polar disorder, etc.—does giving them such names make my demons go away? Will they pull their devil claws from my soul and let me live?I am understanding that I can’t look for the meaning of life by searching, working for happiness. It is digging a hole to fill a hole. It is in pain and sadness that life’s meaning finds its most paternal roots. I must become more comfortable with holes.I seek enlightenment from great minds, from my cat’s movements, from the frost that cakes my window sill. The Buddha says that the first precept of life is pain. Is this why the harder I try to wake the further from the light I seem to be?Christ knew the pain of the crucifix. For some reason this makes me more comfortable with my pain and sadness. Yet, nothing pacifies my mind. So I’ll pump my pills and wait for another day to try to be happy.

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dinosaurs	[30 Oct 2003\|12:51am]
4am drivingstreet lights lead to darkness and back againbeautiful boys chain together Sleeping Pills and Pantomime Horsesheart in mouth, and excitement in the passenger seati rub my eyes, tiredtired, but it's not sleep that i needi make friends with the red lightsbut they knowwe part companyi smell you inside meendless smiles underline the beauty of my foolishnesskill the enginerollglide through neighbourhood dogs and village idiotsmoonlight fills my lungshumidity hides me from the keenest eyei open your envelopeand climb throughinserting myself in a room filled with your breathsi take you inside one dream at a timeyour sleep paints the skyand all i can do is reachto touch
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dinosaurs

[30 Oct 2003|12:51am]

4am drivingstreet lights lead to darkness and back againbeautiful boys chain together Sleeping Pills and Pantomime Horsesheart in mouth, and excitement in the passenger seati rub my eyes, tiredtired, but it's not sleep that i needi make friends with the red lightsbut they knowwe part companyi smell you inside meendless smiles underline the beauty of my foolishnesskill the enginerollglide through neighbourhood dogs and village idiotsmoonlight fills my lungshumidity hides me from the keenest eyei open your envelopeand climb throughinserting myself in a room filled with your breathsi take you inside one dream at a timeyour sleep paints the skyand all i can do is reachto touch

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you need to run.	[28 Oct 2003\|03:49pm]
[ mood \| oh, oh, oh. ] paused within an ever-still day, gifted with aches of head and spine; summer drenched thought-chains. you were the first/why? stagnant hallway filled with queer scents, children and perversion. water fountains and a stick of blue on the floor. the sunlight tastes of laundry detergent. he was there too/to?/did he already know/but why? we had been scorched through and through and wilted with thirst. so many times after, the thirst returned but it was never the same; as most things.
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you need to run.

[28 Oct 2003|03:49pm]

[ mood | oh, oh, oh. ] paused within an ever-still day, gifted with aches of head and spine; summer drenched thought-chains. you were the first/why? stagnant hallway filled with queer scents, children and perversion. water fountains and a stick of blue on the floor. the sunlight tastes of laundry detergent. he was there too/to?/did he already know/but why? we had been scorched through and through and wilted with thirst. so many times after, the thirst returned but it was never the same; as most things.

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	[26 Oct 2003\|09:05pm]
fireflies set the scene for dusty words from precious bookslighting nurturing mouths as they soothe these ancient woundsinvisible brush strokes paint new memories to fill the gaps left by timewarm nights like this serve as a reminder of priceless history lessons never shared
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	[20 Oct 2003\|07:49pm]
[ mood \| what? i'm confused ] and it would seem that specifics are in the objects and abstracts approached with certain tools left us to in turn build some more...new ones...new touch or hold or breath or grab and this is done where dismissal seems to be the most welcoming of potential hosts so then therefore and so on and so on bits of lettering and type-sets and formats (options options like) all give up then it won't be complete till you are able to say you don't know and even then nothing so i guess i'll ride this fucking wheel now but forget
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[20 Oct 2003|07:49pm]

[ mood | what? i'm confused ] and it would seem that specifics are in the objects and abstracts approached with certain tools left us to in turn build some more...new ones...new touch or hold or breath or grab and this is done where dismissal seems to be the most welcoming of potential hosts so then therefore and so on and so on bits of lettering and type-sets and formats (options options like) all give up then it won't be complete till you are able to say you don't know and even then nothing so i guess i'll ride this fucking wheel now but forget

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crashed course.	[08 Oct 2003\|04:42am]
we all know how the story ends, suchexperts we've become in pretending tobe surprised when it is learned theannoyance is borne from one's fascination, instead of between thighsspread painfully wide, much too familiar,pouring backwards into broken mugs;nothing belongs in this garbage anymore.
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important so	[04 Oct 2003\|12:25am]
sing me, so. until. i fell into a morning so viscous + orange, so sugary and guilty it was all he could do to run inside. stay there. until your next life.and the photo/ i've learned to love stubbornly, to rest when i'm alone, to push + shove and love. but tonite i'll be thinking. about their next release, and his do-it-yourself disappointments. they scrape me so, like finger skin stuck on a filthy edge. yes. yes i've come lately and i've come alone and you'll be there next time when i need you most(swirl slow-like in heart's psychedelia) ( robots will cry real tears)readyeven stevenall-you-can-eatlovely togetherin-side themeaning of our causesreals in the grainy brushelectric in time/ slow as you goand trying, trying/ don'tleaveand so darkly, lonesomely stilli become intriguingly, however momentarily, afraid
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important so

[04 Oct 2003|12:25am]

sing me, so. until. i fell into a morning so viscous + orange, so sugary and guilty it was all he could do to run inside. stay there. until your next life.and the photo/ i've learned to love stubbornly, to rest when i'm alone, to push + shove and love. but tonite i'll be thinking. about their next release, and his do-it-yourself disappointments. they scrape me so, like finger skin stuck on a filthy edge. yes. yes i've come lately and i've come alone and you'll be there next time when i need you most(swirl slow-like in heart's psychedelia) ( robots will cry real tears)readyeven stevenall-you-can-eatlovely togetherin-side themeaning of our causesreals in the grainy brushelectric in time/ slow as you goand trying, trying/ don'tleaveand so darkly, lonesomely stilli become intriguingly, however momentarily, afraid

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	[02 Oct 2003\|11:02am]
[ mood \| ref:deleuze and guattari ] i feel like my armsare tied to my sides and iam trying to sprint
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crave my happiness.	[23 Sep 2003\|10:01pm]
down here, where the flesh never burns, the memory is kept in cherished blankets of darkness and stills, so as not to cause thirst, for it still flares with the strength of birth. the back-seat, a vale of luggage, pressing ridiculously to my spine and i did feel mildly insane as i watched him sleep but then he awoke and the mildness was replaced. the day disappeared into night; we were unquiet and i think we both knew even then where the seduction laid. he spoke of blurred lines and being made lost with a kiss, and had to explain it all because i did not understand, not one bit. as more fell from his lips, i found myself clawing for escape, for fear that i would be pushed into him, limb to limb, flesh to flesh, pulse to pulse; his throb to mine. and lines would be blurred, my being lost in a confusion i did not understand, not one bit.
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crave my happiness.

[23 Sep 2003|10:01pm]

down here, where the flesh never burns, the memory is kept in cherished blankets of darkness and stills, so as not to cause thirst, for it still flares with the strength of birth. the back-seat, a vale of luggage, pressing ridiculously to my spine and i did feel mildly insane as i watched him sleep but then he awoke and the mildness was replaced. the day disappeared into night; we were unquiet and i think we both knew even then where the seduction laid. he spoke of blurred lines and being made lost with a kiss, and had to explain it all because i did not understand, not one bit. as more fell from his lips, i found myself clawing for escape, for fear that i would be pushed into him, limb to limb, flesh to flesh, pulse to pulse; his throb to mine. and lines would be blurred, my being lost in a confusion i did not understand, not one bit.

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	[22 Sep 2003\|02:45pm]
[ mood \| for you: ] there is potential for it: like bending a bottle cap from glassor holding thirty or more stitches in a naked palm
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