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and I feel filled with love
sitting on the train
is So Cold
I’m skinny
though I accept myself
with every passing day
as more of a Thick Man
still
the extreme air conditioning
(especially on the old trains of my lines)
chills me to the bone
even in this hot summer weather
I always carry a long-sleeve shirt
yet in this city of multitudes
I am not often sitting by myself for long
and when someone does join me
-a hot young lady, thighs bared
or a thick older man
I can feel the heat their bodies throw off
and bask in it
.iP
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life:
we have no choice
but to make it work
in our days if celebrity
15 seconds
own home pages
fans
stalkers
readers we’ll never meet
the art of being
these days
may just be
the ability to create an adequate
Testament of Self
perhaps I just think this because it is what I have come to do so much of
pages of photos of me
writings of my thoughts
even my voice
saying little things
in my little voices throught time…
videos of me talking! excercising! fucking!
of course!
and singing songs…
just being…
I Was Here!
This Is How I Did IT!
i write this to you know
because I want to walk through the house of you
I want to read the words of your beliefs
see all your favourite pictures you’ve taken
and those taken of you…
your particularily fine fuck flicks
and your self indulgent musings into the lense
do you have this somewhere?
is it far too crass?
( I wrote this to someone I’ve never met, but on the net… a testament to my own ability to become fascinated with people again… which it seems I had lost for a while )
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there is actually a can manufacturer who puts transformer logos on
their cars?
nj plates..
the love story
it doesn’t matter if you have a wife
or a guy you’ve lived with for 19 years
it seems the most marketable
ahhhhh, hooking
sticky
yearning
tasty
sugarylump of item-to-share
is the Love Story.
i remember when i was 14
i forbade myself from listening to any more love stories (is that true? it must have been 18)
i remember when i was 18
i met her in a dark alleyway
after staying up all night
it was actually the back of the apartment building
cold dark brick in every directions
eyes burning, throat sore
crystal meth and bossy film maker
up all night
all night in a new huge thumping city
the heat yet to bowl us all over
and he walked in
his eyes like two fucking spoons to dig into me and cut out my heart
who created some silliness with me
then took me by the hand
into the park
but not through a door
over a wall
and up a huge cliff!
A HUGE CLIFF
as any rock in central park can become
when it’s a love story
the sky opened up
the birds gave us presents
we never slept again
and in my mind
i could only sleep with him
no
it wasn’t sex
it was purer than that
only love
only brother
only sister and mother
this kid was my soul
my mate
we were together in a way no others were
(they way we all are, they way we all dream about being)
he seeing all of my posing
my poetics
my tragedy
in fact high-lighting places i’d been un-aware of
to make my darkers more dark
to make my story more tight
more pull
more love
as my broke heart limped along
only 19 years old and already a cripple
born like that, really
raised like that
malnourished on sugar crystals
and a father who’s always gone
and doesn’t know how to hug when he’s there
the tension, the un-attainable
he wanted me to be his wife
or husband
it’s the only way i could see it
he was always a woman to me
his lithe beautiful body
his hurtful, insightful words
the only story we knew was the love story
and i can’t hold onto that
my eyes make contact
and my fingers go slack
why do this again?
i’m not kidding
he’s in a loveless loveful marriage of constant bickering and couples therapy now
he’s so happy. so stable. so fucking shut me off.
all of my love stories have come to ground
far from port
broken little ships
with only one captain on them
or only one passenger
maybe i wasn’t steering enough?
along for the ride
hoping everything would be better when we reach the other side
but i’ve always been crashing on the same shore i’m pushing off from
ugh
so tired of it
i always try to forget
more love stories
more love stories.
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When I was last in California
I found these old glasses in the stuff I was going through
I think I got them when I was 14…
Maybe 13?
I think these are my first pair…
Maybe second?
I don’t remember
But they fit my face terribly
At least with my hair up…
Imagine how bad they must have looked back then…
I just put them on in the train to look at a cute guy 20ft away
Another cute guy just sat down in front of me
I’m surprised the glasses still work for me
But they do
My prescription is slight
And I’ve not worn glasses with any regularity since 1999
So I certainly don’t Need them
But it is nice to see some more clarity and detail sometimes
So I’m carrying them around with me
Until I break them, lose them
Or get a new pair
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My timing is all off
All appointments have fallen through
Lines gone dead
Said it was going to rain today
But was sunny when I woke
So went out to the nude beach
With nothing else to do and feeling like *excrement*
I thought I’d stay til it clouded over
Which it never did
So I’m burned all over
Got a room for myself in a flea bag hotel
Close to everything down town though
Nicely located
But dirty dirty dirty
Apocolyptic
$80 for two nights
…s’ok.
Hopefully things will fare better tomorrow
Now
I’m going to go get a beer
on sunday
walking through central park
after rowing around in the boat
we saw a few men with snakes
three, i think:
a little one, and two large ones
the yellow and white (6 feet?)
and a “king boa” (danny called him, about 7 feet, so thick…)
the brown one was on the ground
docile
until i searched out its head with my eyes
and it lifted up off the grass
moving towards me
tongue flicking
the men moved to ready
i got on my knees
and pet under neath its chin
down. . .
in my dreams last night
snakes
somewhere i was
small black snakes everywhere…
wasn’t worried, of course
but
upon trying to leave a certain area
huge ones came up
lifting off the ground
rearing their heads back
and bright read organelles came out of their “ears”, feathered
what?
later(another dream)
we were checking into the hotel
and were on the guest list there, given wrist bands to the festival
what time was it already? had i already missed the show?
too late.
in my waning manic/depressive ways
i have to say that
getting enough sleep, though keeping me balanced, certainly doesn’t bring me much joy.
last night i found out that Apostle of Hustle were playing at a book release party for the Broken Social Scene
some other A&C bands as well, and surprise special guests
i went to the venue after a client (odd client, but then. . . )
raining
nice walk
but when i got there
man at the door said ” no tickets for sale, only on the list or with special wrist bands ”
i searched on line
and asked people IN the line
no avail
but i told them all (even as many of them were turned away)
that i wasn’t going to give up that easily
see some of the broken social scene on their turf! what luck!
i stood on the other side of the door from the line
there was the bassist for the apostle of hustle
cute little chubby guy with long hair
smoking
we made eye contact
— we’d talked once outside of the Mercury Lounge
— i’d hugged him (thinking that was the wrong thing to do as i did it, but it’s how i am)
there he was, standing next to a blond chick with bright pink toenails
oh, if only i had bright pink toe nails, a jean mini skirt and long straight blonde hair…
if Kevin Drew were here i could…
and out walks Kevin Drew
not “on stage” presence
he looked like he was just quietly playing it down
and i just stood there staring at him
brief glance (of course i stand out anywhere)
not exactly on the same wave as these hipster kids
but there i was
and i didn’t want to be a pushy american
too late
too late
they all went back inside
and i turned to go down the street
up Yonge again
and saw a storefront for a radio station advertising that music festival
so i went in an asked them if they knew anything about the show
a girl said “oh, i’m sure someone from the broken social scene is riding around town on a bike right now, there’s like 20 kids in that band”
i told her i saw kevin drew
she said “you should have just asked him”
i told her i didn’t want to be an annoying fan
she said “you should have, he wouldn’t have minded”
i should have
but
opportunity missed
i went back to the hotel
and Steve is not a party animal
living up the arctic as he does
he was in with fish and chips
i read him yesterdays journal entry
and he was asleep by the end
so instead of going out to the bars
i decided: 11pm already
i should just sleep on this cool rainy night
Steve can’t sleep with out noise
so i put on Music for Airports on the bed-side iPod docked radio
then put on ocean wave sounds from the White Noise program on my iPhone
slept
slept
with many dreams
woke at 7:30 am
airports… waves…
strange feeling like i was missing something. . .
i wish i were home so i could go through my books
be there to receive my packages
i wish something. . .
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