ARGH
i woke at 7 am
my body flocked with flies…
i’m not usually bothered by them this much
but
somehow
they’ve filled up the apartment
leaving little brown dots
even on my computer
they don’t bite (are they?)
just just fly around, crawl on me
woke me up too early
when i first got here
looking through the stuff
i found some Fly Paper
and looked at B
we laughed
“whatever, gross!”
we threw it out.
this morning
at seven a.m.
i went out into the neighborhood
to find some
it didn’t take too long
and i didn’t need the bag
i bough three packages (that’s 15 tubes)
carried them proudly through the streets back home
and immediately set them up in each room of the house
of course
as of yet
they are still naked:
and the flies are on me
(i taste so much better)
UGH!
i stood in line TWO HOURS!!
===(what the advertised: it only took an hour, really)
walked through the brooklyn museum
in front
a beautiful
orange dress
afro
o-eyes-o
Rodin everywhere
by the time i stopped playing games on my MOTO
HELL
here in hell…
behind me
stuipid NOYs
the dumb straight hair
“is that the gates of hell thing their talking about? that big dorr over ther… duhhh, waht’s tha dorr abouut?”
i wanted to smash them
“ughh.. so long, wait so long.. uh. is it worth it”
fucking bschz
i turned and said
‘ it’s just ignorant art… he’s ignorant… ‘
really tempted to flat out say ‘ you shouldn’t waste your time ‘
meaning
” GO THE FUCK AWAY ”
or just run arround baahhhhing like a sheep
” i saw this on the train, look at all these people, i should be here too! ”
on the wall
interview
someone easked him
“is there anger in your work?”
‘ yeah, it’s about 80% anger ‘
“but there humour there too, right?”
‘ people laugh when you fall on your ass…
what’s humour?”
i walked around
my eyes straying over the works
i was snapping pictures with my camera
the gaurds threatened to throw me out if i did it again
occasional cell phone calls gave me the excuse to grab little ones …
jittery art…
reminded me
of my first time in New York City
with Leslie
we found a large piece of wood
coverd in canvass
we bought paint
white-out
duct-tape
cut it
stuck poles through it
scribbled words and images all over it for an hour or so
… left it in SoHo
wondering if it’d sell for millions…
reminded me
of that summer
on the roof top with JP and Eli
the large long rolls ov paper layed out
eli making a tryptic of WOMAN
i made a jittery sketchy messy man in a suit (as i always drew and painted back then)
i must have been channeling Jean Michel
i must have been getting the same demon channel he tuned into
the words
what’d i write?
“my hands can’t hold the shape of reality, i have to crush it and shake it to make it fit my life”
-///////
i imagined a doctrine on the subway today:
– they tell us we have diseases because we are incompatable with their reality construct
they teach us to treat ourselves as victims
instead of empowering our differences
our glitches
our strengths
our magic mutations that give us the perspective and texture on this reality that others lack
fucking mono-culture-monsters
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\-
in a conversation with bridget last night (this morning)-
i feel like i’m sliding back into my terrible teen-age feelings
judgemental of everything
angry
sad
so sad
drowning
struggling
quick-sand!
stupid
i’m fighting it!
but am i supposed to go into it? go through it?
i’ve done that already
and it SUCKS
should i just live with it?
back at Basquiat
i thought about grabbing it
in this city
feeling the pain
Compassion
Empathy
grabbing onto it like a live wire
and riding it like a fucking tidal wave
connect it to sourse
translate it to culture
ARTIST
let it spit out
shit out
make it whole
connect the circle
—
there are far too many things i don’t understand
and i’m losing my gripping…
i’ve been meditating frantically for the last week
i can feel it relaxing me
and the reiki..
i can feel it healing me
i whimper sometimes when i’m doing it
— i’m not doing all that bad
i’m just …
i had a dream when i was up in the country of sleeping with my brother
the bed was metal
i could feel the energy between us
i had to dissapate
i was scared
well, not… but i knew what would happen
and didn’t realy want…
i reached out and touched the bed-post
and the current flowed through me
a thousand times stronger than static electricity
i let my finger lay
course through me
there was a sound
floor board creaking
he got up to check it out
while i lay there in the dark night
thinking what a paranoid freak he could be
: no one was breaking into the house…
but then he came running back down the hall
and just as he got to the door way
the man caught up with him
and beat him to a pulp with an aluminum baseball bat
i staggered
tried to back away
fell off the bed
legs tangled in the blankets
the man loomed over me
with fear and confusion in his eyes
he raised the bat
and started raining it down on me
i woke up terrified and sweating at 4 am
— there’s a lot of fear around
-{“do you feel like a chain-store?”}-
— Alex Graham
i took a train ride with N yesterday
through the heavy gray
up the hudson
i kept mistaking it for a Lake…
a very long lake…
the hills, the water
why not?
do i ever need to go back to california?
(the hot springs…)
the night was reminicing
with beer from belgium in my favourite Duuval glasses
and one of his old friends
then a party at the house… we will be house sitting for the next few weeks…
but i’d made an appointment with a massage client a month ago
and had to catch a ride back down today so i could honor that…
hmm
work only a few days a week
and give myself some rest up there…
hiking
bike riding
resting
… in the summer time.
THANKS!
my favourite wishes were
“i’m glad you’re on the planet”
“i’m glad you’re alive”
“i’m glad you’re in this land of the living with me”
Happy Birthday!
yeah, i talked with lots of people on the phone
and around 2o’clock (when i was born)
the phone rang off the hook for an hour
crazy!
things don’t go as planned
but…
beautiful anyway
now i’m late
for a very…
well
up to the school
gotta go!
i don’t remember most of the morning’s dream
but i do know
i was walking the peir with my mother
a huge blue whale was jumping and swimming along aside us
the sun shone down
everyone was out
people were smiling.
i was working for an…
organization
we were…
killing deamons
we all had specific powers
that allowed us to see or know
we had tools
a book
a knife
had a lot of work to do
at every party we went to
bar
city…
demons everywhere
ah
but in this dreams
so were there whales everywhere.
Yum.
———–
i woke up next to a friend
but i didn’t really wake up
he drank coffee
ate something?
read something?
i sometimes sleep with my eyes open
i remember seeing him in the morning light
sitting in the chair
i slapped the bed beside me
but did not sway him
i …
fell
to sleep
again
[maybe i’ll start writing about what happens during the day again soon]
i’m just a 14 year old blond haired boy
angela is beautiful
with long blond hair
wavey, surrounding her hair
she’s everywhere.
angela has a husband who’s in his forties and fat (and muscular) and get’s fucked by horses
– there’s a close up of the horse cock going up his butt
and then a side view:
they turn into daggers
wooden and ivory
and overlay eachother…
on a piece of paper in the principal’s office
i see
in hot pink and neon green:
“Angela is a Gay Goddess”
how does that work?
all the kids who make all the decisions are freaks
they’re all gay
or something like it…
the establisment notes them as freaks…
Individuals…
but i’m a Noy…
a normal
just a noy kid
try as i might
the school hates anyone who mention their greatest failure
the corporate sponsorship who let them down…
they’re all rebels now
i go to the bars at night
trying to understand
all the straight people play tarot cards like horse-shoes in garbage cans the size of rooms
i walk in and sort through
trying to recover all the secrets
… later
as the boy i am now
i go out naked, but for my saffron skirt, and walk the plaza in the bronx
where i live now
barefoot and crazy on the sand-concrete
the rich women talk amongst themselves
the golden light pours down
bathing the classical buildings of marble and redstone…
——-
i woke
bridget told me she was leaving
i have to catch up with her at the union square farmer’s market
she told me Dani called ( devanand_tree
said he knew Aresh already…
when i called him
(haven’t talked with him since i’ve been here… reasons…)
he tells me he made websites for Aresh
worked for him since he was 15
small
fucking
world
i’ve gotta go.
last night i ate a pint of frozen yogurt
it was organic
stoneyfield farms
vanilla fudge swirl.
i bought it at the corner store
figured
B and F would be here when i got back
but they weren’t…
i waited a while
and then ate it
all by my self
(the fridge here has an icebox too small to fit a pint of icecream)
tonight
still no one here…
i’m eating ben and jerry’s
oatmean cookie chunk
i..
am..
Living…
HERE.
all around me is terrifying darkness
shuddering puddles
loud noises
and deafening silence
on the defensive
i have my claws out
my teeth are already bloody…
but i’m sure it’s just from biting myself
When ever i have Lived anywhere
i fall into deep sadness
the big mistake has always been that i have lived with someone
in that “lover” kinda way
someone to blame for all of my feelings
and project all of my shit onto
i was smarter this time.
in fact
when i decided i loved some one last time
and wanted to love them
i chose NOT to live with them…
even though they would have let me.
smarter i am.
Curiosity:
not being able to articulate anything
doesn’t mean you’re dumb, does it?
articulation=
dexterity=
intelligence?
oops!
staying in one place
i cannot run away
from this deep well of sadness
what’s so sad, huh?
oh, just everything
the way i love…
the way i tie my shoes…
the way i treat myself
my fears
the walls…
Existence!
politcs
television
idon’tremember
my friend West once told me
(back in ’99)
that if i stopped running long enough
sat by a river
listened
and drowned in my saddness
i’d realize it wasn’t an endless black pit
but a little puddle
but
ge-golly
it sure is scary from here
i’ve been here just two months now
and a few days.
i turn 27 on wednesday
saturn return starts july 17th
here i am!
SAD!
i’m smart
i’m not taking it out on anyone
even though it is my habit
i don’t believe it
so i’m keeping my shit to myself..
that is
unless
of course
you’re checking your friend’s list at four a.m.
and drift through this drivel…
as commissioned by dennisatl
i often tell this story to people
so i’ll write it here
the times i’ve broken my nose…
everywhere in the world has different words for “friend”
i’ve given a side-wards glance to the word “buddy”
resigning it to comic books, novels… vernacular from the past.
quaint.
but always with humour
if not completely contrived.
BUT
i’ve been changing my mind in the last year…
last September, while i was in New York (go see: i didn’t journal at all)
i was hanging out with a friend who grew up in this town
— and i laughed
how he used the word “buddy”
not because the word is absurd
but the idea of such a friend…
a Pal…
.. it’s a concept that’s nearly alien to me
a casual friend
a circumstantial friend
but a friend with intimate care and concern…
is this for real?
i grew up a lonely kid in a cornfield
no friend i trusted as a friend
for fear he’d turn on me and beat me up
or that he was only friendly with me
coz everyone else beat him up too..
i look through the city for clues…
When i arrived in the city two months ago
i noticed an ad on the subway to promote quiting smoking
“My Buddy’s a Quitter!”
two chubby men on a construction site
arms over eachother’s shoulders
big smiles
Buddy.
maybe i thought it odd from his mouth
because of the Straight connotations i give it…
that
“we don’t fuck, but we care about eachother”
is almost rare to me these days…
though, admittedly, it is something i often crave
last night
at the More Gardens meeting
a girl here…
a Native New Yorker
talks about her new Beau…
“he’s been a buddy of mine for a long time… then we started smooching a week ago…”
then he comes over
and they’re hanging out
Buddies.
Ah…
the intimacy that comes from knowing people
being with them
loving them
then? where does it go?
does the tongue pass the lips?
hand slide down the back to grip the butt?
wake up in bed in the morning
still laughing and smiling
and handing eachother a cup of coffee?
this type of casual intimacy has always seemed false to me
… only because of its foreignness…
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