thanks for your sunglasses
thanks for your blank
thanks for your million parking lots
and your tattoos
I’m glad you know why
and have your clear desires
I’d want you to see me
but it doesn’t really matter
I’m only visiting
and I don’t want anything from you
it’s ok
I’m not staying long
and not even hoping for a surprise
“but I wanna see the whites of your eyes”

.iP

I just took a survey on 23andme.com about Optimism. i don’t think of myself as Optimistic… I’m very critical and tend to focus on the faults of reality… but I scored as More Optimistic Than Average. I ended it by saying this:
odd concept. I came from a family with an expect-the-worst mentality and was a very depressed and pessimistic person til my late teenage years when i started experimenting with LSD and mushrooms. they helped me change all my belief structures… or so I credit them. can people willfully change their DNA? I’ve heard the fear LSD can cause genetic damage… mutation… can it also be used for reprogramming? I’ve not done it in about a decade now, but always credit it as having helped me
the results page had this to say: “A study from the journal Nature showed that activity in a part of your brain called the rostral anterior cingulate cortex is highly associated with general optimism. It is possible that this part of your brain integrates emotions and memories to create a positive attitude about future events.”
so, can LSD open different pathways of our brain previously inaccessible to us?
of course I believe this to be true

I’ve had this conversation a few times recently
I often tell people
if they’ve never tried a psychedelic THEY SHOULD
all other drugs I can do without
and i certainly don’t find it fun to do psychedelics often
but it’s a life experience I would recommend to everyone

but maybe LSD isn’t what caused my change
maybe it was yoga
maybe it was just the passing of time
I’ve seen similar positive change in the members of my family
and I still sometimes force the hand of positivity in my thinking
simply because I Know how detrimental being a worrywart is…

and maybe our genetics tie us in a dynamic way…
maybe as I change my DNA
it ripples back to my family
and the rest of the 7 billion bonobos I’m family with
the little struggles and failures we all suffer
supported by and bearing weight on the massive net of all our relations
since my psychedelic experiences, I’ve always felt the least and greatest of my actions affect the entirety of Life as I know it…
is this mechanism physical? psychic? delusional? dreaming…?

let’s drink a toast to ecstatic evolution!
“One Day I am Gonna Grow Wings!…”

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it’s snowing again?
you went and did it without me?
I miss you
it’s been a nice
few days of rest
I’m tired
and I wish we could be together again

I’m happy here
but I’m so reticent to let myself care about coupling
to endear myself too much to a person
any person…

New York
you’re everyone
we can do anything together
but right now
the only view of you I’ve got
is Stale google street views
and One public live camera
on Jack Dempsey corner
icicles dripping down its face
controls stubborn and fickle

it’s not the same, my dear
any of you faces I love
I cannot touch you now
or force you to walk to this
frigid slushy corner
to kiss my eyes

my hand should be on your big bald face
or your fat old side
talking with you somewhere warm
drinking something
smoking something
eating something
dancing to some music
singing some song
in the groaning of our bodies

what was I saying about coupling?
I love you
all of you
and I miss you greatly

these greatly enhanced eyes of technology are useless
only my hands of memory are caressing me now
while I wait out my duties
enjoy my life here
release my grip on you
right now

the snow fell without me
but I’ll check in from time to time
to see if
perhaps
I catch you among the millions walking through times square…

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i just woke from a dream
napping on new year’s day
and i cannot speak

i had left the country
for something
gone to Switzerland
or somewhere
off on my own
walking around
went to a park
maybe i broke into a part i wasn’t supposed to be on

yes
i had been
there was a woman in a wheel chair
i offered to push her
before
there was a man who wanted to steal my iPhone
pick pocket it
i caught him out
that didn’t happen
i went into the movie theater and pushed this women around in a wheel chair to get to a good location
it was a tight fit
and this pick pocket was there with a few other people
it was upsetting
but i prevailed
and when the fight broke out
the woman in the wheel chair revealed she was just seeing what it was like
because her child (daughter) was in a wheel chair
she helped me fight

i walked out to this park alone to decompress
not too frightened of the thieves
this part of the park was a bit of a junk yard
lots of burnt things
and piles of
what looked like missiles

i climbed up to an over-walk cliff area
and met a man up there
we didn’t speak much
we were friendly and bashful with eachother
he was large, oafish, slow, beautiful beast
stubbly face, strong jaw, 40? 50?
mustache
we interacted without talking much
we were very close
we ordered pizza
while we waited for that
another man came from the other direction
and the first i was talking to wandered off
this second was a little younger… ten years perhaps (late 30s or mid 40s)
he spoke better english, but we still didn’t talk much
and became very physical immediately
cuddly
what did we DO?
i don’t know
it seemed like a long time
and very intimate
but not so sexual as i remember it
his name was Marcel
we were laying around by the fire
the other man came back, we all sat on the ground together
as well as the women from the wheel chair
as dawn approached
the missiles started firing:
we were lounging in a missle firing range
groups of three or four would shoot at a time and whiz right over my head
i could see they weren’t scared so i tried not to be
but it was terrifying to me
and the whole mess of this park made sense

i decided to go for a walk
past burning husks of refrigerators and appliances
a little nervous as to what i might find
but walking around the ridgeline and down
through a cyclone fence
i found myself in a children’s park
in the morning
kids everywhere
and a whole bunch of land turtles walking around near the playground
i said hello and good morning to the mothers watching the children
i was astounded and returned to the bombing range
there were people all over now
many girls, young people
teens and twenties
activist types
there was a pot farm
it was all very farm-y
commune-y
i went into the house and found the first older man
i believe his name was Rick
we cuddled up and slept
i lived there for a while
alternating between spending my time and affections with Rick and Marcel
and eventually another man i think was named Phillip
i was there a night
or a few weeks
i had thought i came here to take a break
i was living here
or visiting here
i had a conversation out on the steps
about how they were selling the weed harvest to bloomingdales
i repeated it like a moron: incredulous
and announced i must figure out how to move here and not return to america
i didn’t have time for the level of bullshit they live through there!
Where’s Rick?
i cannot convey the amount of intimacy
the love, affection, closeness
it was the most mysterious part of the dream
how much in love i felt with all three of these men
how i would spend time with them
not being on the computer or playing with my iPhone
not even talking much
just being, looking, connecting, touching, doing…
as if in shifts it all worked out

one day i became friends with some of the girls and went for a car ride with them
we had talks about how nice it is to be only with women or men
i was trying to explain my homosexuality
how i’m not just attracted to men, but a specific type
and how i can appreciate all, including women, but not with a natural passion…
i remember saying that being with both genders of people is difficult because of all the differences
so to eliminate one of the genders really made things less scary and more easy to be open
somehow alluding to menstruation and how women felt better because they understood their changes
mens changes, i said, were more subtle than these
and, where i come from, they are often ignored out of fear of attack or ridicule
but we get to be sensitive to eachother here, like this…
we were hanging out on the front steps (like a subway tunnel entrance into a rock face, where we lived)
i was showing them the various noise makers on my iPhone
i could tell Rick was very upset
and was avoiding me
he stormed off inside
i had to corner him and make him speak to me
we were both on the verge of tears
he was bitching about the technology i was all of a sudden using again
then brought of Marcel and Phillip
and ultimately that i was leaving, i was a vagabond
and my heart was broken
how could i explain how much i loved each of these men and how i wanted it like this?
no one had had a conversation with me about this yet
i assumed it was all understood
and perhaps it was
but Rick was more sensitive
they were all so similar
themes and variations
why were the smiles and joys so hard to retrieve?
what was i supposed to do about my life in America
could i possibly be happy just staying here
with three loves!
we didn’t even speak much
i had no idea how many secrets they had
what the majority of their lives were about

it was around now when i was waking
i had to pee

i had come home from where i slept on the floor
new year’s morning
3-8, waking at 4 and 5….
i’d lost my voice as i was going to sleep last night
and when i woke this morning all i could think was posting that on Facebook:
“i lost my voice on New Year’s Day: i hope that’s not an Omen”
and of course it was the first thing Michael said when i told him.
“Maybe that’s some sort of Omen…”
i came home intending to sleep it off: make up for the sleep i didn’t get and hopefully my voice would return
back at my place
i drank water and potions
took a shower
and went back to sleep from 11am to 3

when i woke up from my nap
realizing that whole experience was a dream
and felt incredible remorse
loss!
i grabbed my iPhone to orate the dream
and could not: no voice
i busied around peeing and cleaning my sinuses out
still: my vocal chords are frozen
and after writing it out
i am left with such a heavy emotional weight
Rest, always difficult for me, often isn’t restful
to have such an emotionally exhausting dream
i suppose a bit reflective of the time i’ve been having here in NYC
with a few people i love
and don’t know how to be with
sex or not or life or all the pieces of myself that aren’t working out
just thinking of . . .
how am i ever supposed to love or find the right way of being in this world for me?
HA!
as i wrote this i thought about how i was in a full Analysis session
my life
how i write to myself
the computer being a bit like the Analyst… “yes, go on..” is mostly all it says
and i do
i do
i do.

Mercury is nearly at the peak of his arc—

today I’ve been overly communicative
I fear the rest of my life is when I have trouble with Mercury… but here it retrograde things are well for me
the money flow
the ease of interactions with family
the writing

or not
I have been pretty bitchy to two friends lately
but …
that’s nothing with how many crazy malfunctions I’ve been encountering in the city
and almost everyone I know has had some sort of cold

the fans failing on the tv screen panels in times square
this train to NJ
the PATH was down today
mwa mwa mwa

(the announcer has been making many conflicting announcements… and keeps telling people what doors to exit through, for instance: the doors in the middle of the car lead into the bathroom: you must exit through the ends of the car…)

Thursday, with Jove’s kindness, will Mercury stand still… and return to his “forward” motion

the reason to know this
is compassion

.iP

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yeah
I remember Jackie telling me not to put so much of myself into sex…
in Chinese medicine there is an essential fluid in the kidneys that is thought to be finite
and once depleted
so is your body/life
it gets used up in sex (the fluids) and all other creative acts:
-giving your life in the material plane out of your body-
I’m generally not interested in sex that doesn’t incorporate my essence… why bother?
I assume there is a similar fluid in the heart as well
(I’ve heard of a yellow/orange fluid that seeps out in open-heart surgery: apparently the heart never regenerates it)
in my life
I use my heart too much
too much isn’t nearly enough
so how could I retreat?
and live mediocre and vampiric?
not an option

I try to fortify, to be eternal
but I often exhaust my heart
when I feel it desperately try to manifest more
but usually end up feeling heartbroken and hateful
critical to mostly seeing the darkness and forgetting all the love that flows towards me

I want to burst in exstacy every day
I want to share that with many
Peter Pan if I have to
but let’s go there…

and will that really cause me to expire early?
earlier than what?

I played for Leo
Ginsberg screaming: "I don’t want to die Young! I want to die Old and UnHappy."

this is very serious.

but I do notice
when I’m exhausted
I’m mean to those who love me
rude
it’s not nice
and I’ve often feared that it’s those who pay for it who steal my heart
but I’m also reminded now
that most do, mostly
as I may steal the Jing from the men at the beach who know not what they offer… what they have… leaving fully exposed, asking to have taken
oh, I channel etherial energy into them as they pump their vital juices out
it’s not as juicy a deal to them
but do they even care?
is it possible to be balanced?
is that even the point?
so many people want to be relieved…
but I imagine I should be compensated
have some sort of exchange
even though my stakes may be higher
I rarely negotiate the level on which I’m operating
and rarely am attracted to men who are conscious of that level
and even many who are, but choose not to embody that with me

it’s no one’s fault, no…
but it’s the way it is

I imagine one day I will correct some tributary of karma that will allow me the relationship that will be blissful for me
or some further grace with thus flow…

meanwhile
I apologize to all who love me
that I am not yet balanced in this aspect of self
I assure you I am addressing it as i can with intention to surpass…
forgive me
and remember I love you too

huuuuuu.

.iP

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how many people have talked with me
assuming they are agreeing with me
saying "just live for today, enjoy"

maybe I was raised in a culture living for tomorrow
maybe many times I have made important choices for tomorrow while missing what’s happening right now
hit by a truck
waking up bloody and confused
I mean, smelling the roses and all that

maybe I undid those knots
and got to live many years only feeling the now
but probably I was often lost in the foggy past

maybe I was lightyears ahead
but always wishing I could be dead
and closing doors behind me as tight as I could

i cane to believe
living for the future was a way to dispel my death wish

(I just explained: as cancer cells can be made aware of themselves as useless destructive individuals and destroy themselves… so can humans living entirely pointless lives come to self awareness that the best choice they could make would be self extermination)

but I was standing there on the platform
waiting for my train to come
and realized my trick of seducing myself into the future is not an original idea
and I don’t imagine it’s worked for the culture that raised me
nor the millions of others…

it works for a while
long as ya keep busy
but we’re still trying to outrun it…

Some are born with it
we must be
and I’m not them
I can’t be sure
but others are born with the rhythm of light coming out their fingers

no choice
just duty

live:
to struggle against/with death
to embrace and dance with life

no
even they live in the blindspots
forgetting is essential
on we go

.iP

Believe-In

I was talking to my mom about the Power Balance medallion Daniel gave me (no, another Daniel)
he said it was an “Alien Technology”
she said she didn’t want to try it then: Aliens terrified her

I
don’t
really
believe in
Aliens…

I mean
I assume there is life on other planets
but have never interacted with them…
(I do think about beings from other planes…)
i also don’t hold Fear against things I know nothing about
more curiosity and wonder…

but it lead me to think about Belief
and I guess my mom believes in any story she’s ever heard: it’s out there
so many people are always “disproving” or dismissing other people’s stories
nay-sayers
pruning the edges of their realities to maintain focus
it’s an intelligent decision
(if it’s a choice… more likely a Nature)
but I really like thinking about
Believing All The Stories
All

I believe all stories that have ever been believed in
I don’t worship nor fear them
but there they are
floating around reality
a reality made of stories…

.iP

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What’s To Like About Michigan?

surprisingly: many things

I don’t know if I would have ever said "I Like Michigan" in the past
but I spent the day with my Dad today
probably the first time we spent a day together and didn’t get in arguments
we’re both mellow about eachother
letting each of us just be us

one of the experiences I had with my dad the only other time we were up here alone together did the same thing for me
I think I’m beginning to emotionally connect with him…

being with him let me feel the world of Midwestern Men that I always felt shut out of…
of course he helped me feel shut out as a child
but we’ve forgiven eachother now
he’s open to me
and as long as I don’t fail him
or go further off in opposition to offend him
I can travel with him and hear conversations about hunting
and nature
and appreciate small town Americana…

Maybe this is what makes me feel in love with Michigan: He obviously is

he’s been feeling out with me about music
telling me about all the shows he saw at the Grande Ballroom
he worked the door and helped make bookings for many years

I never noticed… or acknowledged… that my dad is obsessed with music the same way I am… we’d always been enemies about it…

but I ganked some songs from the Internet for him and he told me stories
on the drive up here we listened to Beach Boys, Donovan & the Allman Brothers
inbeteren I played him some Grizzly Bear and Fleet Foxes

today
driving around Big Rapids
I was a bit in love with all the gigantic Michigan Men
and after two large stores
we stopped into a liquor store to get some Campari for me
the place was crazy
in that
it was like an old store
a ramble shack
a video store
yeah
there are still video stores up here
there are still tons of little crappy businesses that have great stuff
filled with characters…
I was overjoyed when my dad pointed out some guy in Meijer wearing "my hat"
a guy with long white hair and beard…
I talked with him a bit
he traveled around a lot when younger
lived on the coasts and in the desert
and moved back here so as not to have to keep up such an intense pace (I’m sure there’s more to that story)
he sells books…

/
let me talk about hair for a bit

I’ve felt increasingly at odds about my trimmed beard
I’m extreme
and love long un-cut ____ Beards
now that mine is trimmed I feel lame
same with my hair

it’s a little kid thing
I know
but it’s funny

I’ve always admired the long and crazy looking
I feel just like a visitor now
where as before I felt like a key in a tribe

I looked in the mirror tonight and began to dread the rest of this cutting process
the horrible mid-length hair period
…

but those thoughts can be passing

I had a bit of a melt down earlier when we got back
the house filled up with people
and my calm appreciation lapsed…

I’d been driving
enjoying the snow
and trees
the ambient moonlight on the everything white
Sufjan singing to me about Michigan…

but here
it was the rest of my family that was freaking out
needing their needs met
and exploding
my brother and sister discharged into me and I felt overwhelmed and terrible
…but we all carry our weight…

I sat and watched the fire a while
the family migrated to hang out with me
I had a touch of butter
and half a beer

we spent a few hours together just talking
I gave my brother his baby blanket I had somehow kept all these years

then my dad turned on the TV and we watched Letterman make an ass of himself in front of the two Leo stars as if he were some idiotic fanboy
terrible mercury retrograde fumbling awkwardness

people drifted to bed
and my room is filled with snoring…

well
i’m glad I slept well last night
and I’m glad I’m here

Thanks

.iP

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When I first left the country and lived in England I’d always say "In America…" referring to Indiana… coz it was the only America I knew… my many years of traveling after that, much in the USA, when talking about the world I knew of Indiana I would frequently mistakenly say "In America"… my mother picked me up and said we were eating at Trader’s Point… I was excited: there is a creamery by that name started by some Dutch people near where I grew up: gorgeous and organic food. but my family thinks it’s too expensive… she was referring to a strip mall that was a field ten years ago. my options were in there: Chillies. Long Horn. Abuelo’s.
I chose Ted’s Montana Grill because it looked like it might have some individual character. I was shocked to be greeted by two black servers (when I lived here it seemed entirely segregated) and our server was ridiculously stoned. i asked him if I got the flag coz he thought I was a Muslim terrorist… but I ordered a Bison burger, specialty of the house, the variety: Vermejo: the name of Ted’s ranch in MT… and the sweet potato fries weren’t on the menu: I’m a special request kinda guy. making the best of what I got here: In America…

(I’m just reporting this cox I typed it out in the comments on Facebook… & this is the non-HDR image)

.iP

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(people often ask me why I live in New York)

I
just had a revelation
though it may be false
brain addled mess of a sleep deprived mind

but I was thinking about London
-those who are tired of London are tired of Living!

I was thinking of living
in a strange new cottage in Berkeley
round the corner from a supermarket in California
riding my bike to the BART station (the seats aren’t as filthy on this one)
I was thinking of having a little life
doing my little job, eating my little meal
missing my little kid and wife
(I’m just being referential)

I realize I live in NYC because it’s the whole world
it’s not trying to be somewhere specific
fuck that
it’s trying to be everything
everywhere
all

I can deal with being in the forest
I like being Nowhere
it’s having to shop at Walmart that reminds me I’m Somewhere
and that Somewhere is a place with little taste and huge blindspots, large unemployments, boredoms, abuses and exploitations
in NYC that’s an entirely Of Course!
but it doesn’t matter
coz it’s not happening somewhere else where we can forget about it
it’s all happening right here
all around us

these are my current illusions

and more lyrics:
"Life is precious
Every Minute
and more Precious
With You
In It"

"Somewhere
maybe someday
maybe somewhere far away…"

"you might have been a headache
but you never were a bore!
Thanks for the memory"

.iP

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.iP

Ah
that pit of sorrows

it’s so easy to let time pass
to get caught up in our simple addictions

stare at the sun set

oh, you can’t see the western horizon from here
but look to the north
see that orange on the mountains?
the clouds in the valley
such beauty

the hawks circling over them
two
fifty… a hundred feet… between them
how far?
what are they saying?
they are god
it’s me
it’s we
we’re all here together
just one
making the mountains to reflect the sun on
to make valleys for the clouds to slink through
to make a hill for a man to watch
us flying

what are we saying?
i want to know the truth
the whole truth
but i get beauty
i don’t get understanding
in my mind… in my mind…
but not in my body
not through
not yet

but i get beauty.

and
the memories…

i was telling someone about a tempting situation i had with someone in my life
someone i’ve known my whole life (yes, important enough to share and to conceal)
it’s rare that i do not explore temptations
and this man, in my hands, i imagined having sex with him
not because i wanted to
but because i know i’m good at it
and so many men
like him
i’ve known so many years
that i have no basis for communication at all
nothing in ideal or content we can share
but i could give him pleasure
without words
there
we could be together
really together
not like all these stumbling conversations we’ve ever tried to have…

tempting
but no
i wasn’t willing to pay the price of all that unleashed pain
i already know that style of loving

but here’s the point
it’s the way i get along
it’s the way i’ve always had
it’s my gift
i touch people and i connect with them
i can do the things i want to do
in the way i do them
but without words
they can feel the loving
my words are too sharp
are they sharp in writing?
i imagine they are all cloudy in writing
i don’t know, i never read my writing (hardly ever)
is it like walking through a forest? in the fog?
just like reading some kid’s journal entries who’s forgotten how to write in sentences?
yeah..
anyway
i have always had a huge disconnect with people in general
and have been an acutely lonely person most of my life
fortunately i’m gregarious
but i didn’t know that until i was nearly 20
my sorrowful years are still heavy in my heart

i’m often ok with that
and these last few weeks i’ve shifted into a different mode
being a bit selfish
probably not yet enough
and
unfortunately
i became so only after i was drowning a bit
so i did it in a reactionary way

can’t i ever get it right first time?

it kills me to think i’ve wasted any time with him

a little death every day…

i was staring at his altar
as he sang his song to jesus
and me
i was imagining
some conversation
when i wore his habit
ten years from now
and told some body about where i got a real franciscan robe from

how will i describe him in ten years to a stranger?

friend? lover? father?

the weight of sadness. . .
sadness of death and loss

loss of my friend
loss of my beautiful view
loss of the only way i know how to connect with someone

but not enough.

i was talking with this 66 year old
an astrological leo
so awesome sex with him
create connect there
but of course i knew his aura was too fucking shiny
a man who can’t take criticism
and i couldn’t help but pour it out
oh, just a little, just a little
he’s good with it, he’s learned from dealing with his long time partner
he’s stoned all the time
but there he is
and he’s telling me
as we’re driving up or down
he’s telling me about how good it is that i came up to be here with Leo
says “well, it makes it better… it helps.. i guess. doesn’t matter, coz we all die alone anyway. ”
and in the days since then i’ve realized it
it is good i’m here
but he’s so alone with me
just as i am with him
coz i can’t appreciate his politics
his God, his vestments
i can barely appreciate his food

where is his wife? who loves everything about him?

i look as his body
and love to touch it
when i hug him
lingering for a moment

this fat old man
filled with cancer
all through and through
and all his heavy food
throwing caution to the wind about plastic and aluminum
and anything else
why worry? why bother?
the kids these days
i remember joking, seriously, to him years ago:
don’t buy me that shit. it’s the cheapest. which means everything in it is dead and eating it makes me feel dead. puts the dead right in me and i don’t like feeling dead inside. that shit will give you cancer.
ha. cancer through and through.
and anyone . . .
well
love that body
the fat and old and achey
suffering
love it
and appreciate so little about the man inside

you know
you know this song too
‘do we ever really love anyone? are we ever really loved?’

but i do want to kiss him, to smell him and hold him
i want to help
but what is helping?

after dinner
and phone calls
and pop corn
south park and 6ft under
i remembered something i’d found yesterday on someone’s facebook wall
who? dunno
but a song sung by Bob Hope: i never knew he was a singer… just remember his comedy…
so sentimental
but then
all this pickling in emotions is tenderizing me
and listening to him sing, vibrating in my bones…
did he cry the first night i went in there?
how come i never did before?
but…
i wanted to show it to him this video
and put my hand on his head and felt him
and it was sentimental
and there i am, crying at movies about my life
what’s that for?
i’m starving to touch things with my hands
real things
joyful things…
but
ah
all this sadness
and the birds circling
and the future reaching back to the past through the present

Thanks, for the memories…