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woke up pissy and groggy
and with a sex date with a guy I like
but don’t like having sex with
it seemed like a chore
I faked an orgasm
and felt stupidly out of place
litterally walked out on him while he was complaining about his life
another email
another call
lonely old men
my flavour
but sex feels like an obligation
not a joy
and I’ve been planning a period of celibacy
I think I’m stepping into it early
meanwhile
I was walking on the promenade
beautifully sunny day
I called a friend who was feeling equally shitty
and we met in the court house square
and wandered around lost and confused for a while
but friends have a miraculous ability to pull eachother out of dark
holes sometimes
and we found ourselves on a ferry to Govener’s Island
walking
talking
back to manhattan
empanadas
Taking Woodstock
(inspiring as it needed to be)
then drinks at the Phoenix
with an excellent DJ sparking the night
love
transformation
gratitude for all the beautiful surprises
(more pics at my flickr)
beard
people are always asking me
why I hide my pretty face
why do I hide my pretty face?
I tell stories of fear
I tell stories of affiliation
I tell stories I’d sensuality
I always deny God(s) have anything to do with it
but I’ve only just now sythesized an understanding that it is, as manybof my actions, an act of bravery, critique and Challenge
Children do not have beards
they are pretty
they are too young to be accountable for their actions
they have not yet the experience of life to combine with the learning of Others’ and their own Heart to make Wisdom
Beards to me have always represented Wisdom
though I’ve known few Wise Men
I uphold my visage of Time Passing
and my own duty to Pay Attention and Learn
to do the work of perceiving life as I can and combining that with my heart to form an Understanding of the world that only I can have
Thus a flag for the duty of carrying the Wisdom it is my destiny to know
I do not want to be a child forever
.iP
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getting home as the southern sky begins to lighten
drinking with friends during
Freddie Mercury Retrograde
then adorable fat boys
an almost brother
messy pizza
and the Ordeal of trains at Night
time to sleep…
before the dawn
oh, poor Ayn Rand reader…
this is the way my fucked up mind works
when I see people I feel bad for them
in the same way I feel bad for people suckered into Scientology
or Carlos Castenada
or Ron Pirsing (whatever)
the same as the Mormons
the rest of the Christians
Really?
you take that Seriously?
the Jews, the Bhuddists
oh
any beliefs that are already wide spread
coz
don’t you see?
they’ve had their chance
their time…
and they Failed
the world is still a shitty mess
and people treat eachother horribly
but I have faith in obscure pop bands
and fantasy novels no one has heard of
no one has formed cults of these ideas yet
no maybe I…
could champion this idea..
maybe it’s different enough…
maybe a monkey wrench
maybe a silver knife
maybe the philosopher’s stone
something to save us all
obviously just a crazy ego trip
but really…
Ayn Rand?
really?
.iP
“we could have whoever we want
we could go back to school
to see the dead laugh again
…
we won’t always be safe here
but this is where we reign”
.iP
he’d been my lover for
a while
not long in the scheme of things
lover in no practical way
did not keep me from my vices
only delighted in them
encouraged them
there was joy there
two little boys
who should definately know better
did
actually
but still
hoped for the best
commonly accepted sicknesses like that are the worst
current epidemic
hope
and upon moving into my home
I somehow lost my phone
but in less than 24 hours I found the numbers called by the finders
somewhere in the Dominican Republic
my boy
he was from some Caribbean islands
and could speak their language
he called that number for me
and in the sweetest voice
discovered nothing
and acquiesced to their obvious lies
and I quickly deemed him useless
despite the cooking
the cleaning
the silly grins
I didn’t want a wife
a girlfriend
anything novel
not a spell I wanted worked
he was spineless: what use?
how easy to discard love
a useless thing
that makes everything brighter
kinda like a food additive
a dirty trick
just a trick
of the light
but strong enough to stick in my mind
nearly two tears later
.iP
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It’s so hard for me to learn
Because I am so arrogant
My gifts come with such a price
I said to my plants
As I prune the dead leaves
"teach me"
I have to learn to cut them
Cut off their life
Hem them in
Right now
They are all over grown
Wild
Turning in on themselves
Crumpled sideways
Pressing against the ceiling
Wasting their energy
And going nowhere
How do I know where to trim
And when?
I know this.
Just do it.
I know.
I was talking with a man tonight
Who trembled
Said
Over and over
How conservative he is
"Conservatives"
I said
"would be much more interesting to me
If they were actually concerned with conservation"
But it’s just fear
So obvious to me
My father
This man
All I’ve known and met
They are living in terror
Want everyone else to be as afraid
More afraid than they are
Expect every trick to be a psychopathic killer
Everyone to be a liar
I’m too arrogant to even consider it
As I diatribe to him
The great difficulties of Freedom
That keeps most Americans from it
Is Self Responsibility
Honesty
Of course
Integrity
Lacking those
You must be under another’s jurisdiction
Oh, if only they were perfect…
But I like the dirt in my window sills
The wild curling of my plants
I’m chomping at the bit to begin my life
Stomping in the stable
What power
Balance of freedom, strength and fear
How do I move the hand deftly for that?
How do I
Cut my hair
And still be wild?
( sssssssh… Just trimmings…. ssssssssh… )
-iP
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i’m officially back
walking in the rain
breakfast with friends
thinking of moving to brooklyn
teaching knuckle-push-ups
dreaming of pillow booking
wearing colour instead of just white for the first time in two weeks
preparing to go underground
being out west makes me want to own a car
so much open space
bein in the Atlanta airport makes me want to move here
so many round men
.iP
oh
kinda slept last few days
travel weary
ha!
left side of the head still fuct
sitting on the plane next to a weedy awkward intelligensia man with thick yellow glasses hunched over a book explaining everything about emotions
I’m staring out the window
twisting in the winds of Martha Wainwright
wondering if such a book would really explain it all
or somehow just damn it up into stagnant reservours useless for any purpose but breeding pests
and turning me into a likewise gollym creature…
oh, answers given to the mysteries of the world
why can’t I trust you?
at least
I’m very grateful I can trust myself
halfway home now
half
way
.iP
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