New York City?

Hey, it's been a while.  Yeah I know, who the fuck am I and where the hell have I been.  Well, that's a long story and I don't care to tell it all right here.  Suffice it to say that I have left Seattle and am living in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn, NY.  I'm now going to school on Long Island at Nassau Community College (more to follow on both those points) and I have no instruments at my disposal at this time.  Without the ability to play music, I have resorted to other means of creativity, such as poetry.  I thought it would be nice to post some of that here, as I think it kind of sums up the details of where I am right now.

I stand before you today...


soaked to the bone in Pagan blood
marinated in the juices of the goat god -
musky like the dew of a thousand mornings
locked in an unplugged freezer
and buried in a swamp
by the tobacco stained hands
of a gypsy.

Relishing every detail:

• the salty tinge of the ocean air
• the thwap-thwapping of water
   against the sides of the boat
• the adolescent whine of an
   underpowered outboard motor
• the nervous sweat of a victim
   who is a virgin to pain
  

collapse


got a dollar eighty in my pocket for coffee
two bananas on top of the fridge
we'll be alright for breakfast
but that doesn't say much about the afternoon
should pro'lly start thinkin' bout the afternoon
i'm out of ideas, how bout you?

we're runnin' outta dollars
runnin' outta dollars
selling everything we own
but we still have desires
still have desires
even if we're broken and
waitin' around for government money
that is long overdue

i ain't here lookin' for handouts
i only want what's mine
so come on with it and
give me my fuckin' money

...i didn't mean to curse just then
it's just that I've been waiting
around for so long
that i've lost track of time
my hair grows longer
my time grows shorter
but i still don't have a plan
the skin of my teeth is
getting thinner
cavities are setting in

i ain't lookin' for handouts
i only want what's mine
so come on with it then
and give me mine

ran outta money
we ran outta money
sold everything we own
still have each other
but we still have each other
baby baby i'm so cold
maybe we oughtta head south for the winter
and wait it out with the crows

i ain't askin' for handouts
i only want what's mine
so come on with it
and give me mine.



-catch up with you soon.

Creative Writing

I'm in a creative writing class right now.  I write poems in the class.  Here are some of mine so far.

Color #7F00FF

is violet in a mood?

violet has a way

and violet is a way

violet is away on vacation

but violet always comes home

does violet even know

that violet is only a color?

violet tries to be blue sometimes

sometimes orange, but it is fruitless for violet

fruitless for violet? no.

violet shines on masculinity

but beneath the façade, violet femmes

if they only knew what violet knows

that swampy green would envy violet

red would blush in shame at violet’s tongue

rays of yellow would try to stain violet

but violet is stubborn and hard to get out

indigo parades as violet from time to time

but only violet is what it is

and only violet knows what mood

violet is in.

violet would never presume

to step in for

black.

pity for god

No one’s from Seattle anymore

disagree with me if you will

as long as you will

look me in the eye:

look me in my crooked

leather eye.

Talk to me in person

and when you’re with me

could you just be with me

or is that a little too

difficult for you?

Are you

like a god –

incapable of changing your ways?

You sure act like it:

like you think you are.

Why try to hide it now?

Just go with it now.

We all know

where you’re from

anyway.

You’re my Seattle

and I’m not just saying

whatever anymore,

hoping I’ll get your attention

hoping you’ll want my words

like I want your stare:

like I want your crooked

iron stare.

hoping the music will move you

hoping I’m spilling out some

social imperative

hoping it’s never been spilled like

this before

hoping Apophis never causes

the oceans to spill:

hoping there is no tsunami

bigger than all my hoping:

none to wash me far

away from the sound:

of evergreen trees snapping out

the rhythm of Ray Charles…

…and yet here I am

digressing and drenched in hopes –

and hoping:

hoping this isn’t another case

of being less important

than a god that is incapable of

changing his mind.

God?  Are you incapable

of changing your mind?

God? GOD? God?

Are you?

How are you?

Home, for now

The front lawn

a graveyard

for refrigerators and

conventional ovens,

speaks to its lack

of conventional curb appeal.

The large yellow moving van

in the driveway has a smiley face

painted on its side wall that

tries to fool the passers by

into thinking that all is well

but I think they’ve got an idea.

Inside, the smell of spores

in hibernation for the winter

and an odd odor from dewy piles of

unchecked clutter accentuate

the chill that feathers your spine

while the nape of your neck realizes that

someone has died here.

The mirror on the far wall mocks us

as we trade melodic thoughts

and contemplate the small statue of Buddha

under the tilted chandelier

that has in its web  a

wayward plastic coat hanger.

The smoke of our breath commingles

with that of the fireplace,

our only source of heat and light

and the only thing that’s stirring until suddenly

some hellish spirit hurls a glass vase

against the wall mere inches from my face.

The back yard is silent but for the din of Aurora

with her pushers and walkers out In
full battle rattle making their statements

and staking their claims and vampires.

When the ground thaws out in a few months,

I’ll dig your fire pit right over there

and we’ll finally relax.

Yup.  So there that is.  I swear I'll post some music soon.  I'm working on it...

Double Dribble

Hey all,

I just want to let everybody know that even though class is over, I am going to continue on with this.  And by everybody I mean you.  Thanks for sticking around, eh?  I mean, really, with all of the different information and entertainment you could be consuming right now I'm pretty stoked that you made it to this, the day of my daughter's...wait I'm thinking of something else.  You're the best.

Since you're here, you might as well share in my misery.  I was working on recording some tracks for Comfortable Skin on Tuesday afternoon and I was almost done with my "test run," which I made with the intent of posting, and audacity crashed when I had only one track left to put down on it.  The worst part?  Though I thought I had saved my changes as I went, I had apparently done nothing of the sort.  What a doosh, right?

You think after having had that happen to me so many times I would have learned by now.  One of the biggest problems with Audacity is it's inability to auto-save, and another is its tendency to crash when you have made too many changes without saving.  Sometimes trying to apply a certain effect such as fade in/fade out to an area that has already been altered in some other way.  I'm very happy with its ability to give you real-time playback so that you can record accurately because of that way that it is designed to be very lightweight on the memory drain for running it...it's a very compact engine.  If Audacity were a car, it would be a Geo Metro.  I should know, I drive one.

So I guess the lesson of the day is to know your enemy.  In my case the enemy is the fact that I can't just make the music come out of my mind the way it happens in there without me going through the motions of creating it with my imperfect limbs on instruments and electronic devices that are imperfect by design.  Wouldn't it be great if there were a device that you could hook up to the head of a musician that would make the sounds inside of the folds of their mind erupt?