04 Tuesday Jun 2013
Sigur Ros has a new album coming out that I am anticipating greatly. Here is the single from their new album. I hope it brings joy into your heart and soul.
(I have been slacking on my blog recently. I hope to get back to posting on a weekly basis. I also hope everyone is doing well and is happy. I have been working on a painting for several months and am excited that it is nearly finished. I can’t wait to post it and share with all of you)
24 Friday May 2013
Posted in Music
Bob Dylan is the greatest lyricist of any generation. He is better then John Lennon, he is better then Paul Simon, he is better then anyone I’ve ever listened to. I believe this man’s birth should be a national Holiday. There is not another man who writes lyrics so simply, so perfectly, so emotionally then Bob Dylan. I say simply in context, because the man could write lyrics so complex and so meaningful that even a layman could understand them. He is one of the most important peoples rights activist who has ever lived. He has not only changed millions of peoples lives, but my own. He is a hero of mine and I look up to him for fighting for what he believes in. Happy birthday to the G.O.A.T.
Here are some of my favorite Dylan songs. Hope you all enjoy.
24 Friday May 2013
Watch this first:
Watch this next:
Lets change the world.
09 Thursday May 2013
Posted in Short Stories
In the Morning:
I could only stay in the bath for so long, as I had seen my share of water for the day. Once I was clean I slowly made my way to the bed where I slept. The room was lit up as the sun had begun to rise for a new day. I laid in the soft bed reflecting on what had happened. I wondered why my life was spared and what was the meaning of it all. What began to trouble me again was what to do for money. I could no longer feed off of my family. The only thing I could imagine doing was accepting the job where she works. The woman that drove me to the insanity of wanting death over life. What new horrors could she possibly do to weaken my mental state? I was already a wreck, I doubt she could do anything more to me or so I assumed. So it was then that I decided to go down in the afternoon to see her and ask in all my discomfort for a job. I was too tired and beat up to do anything in the morning, once my decision was made I fell asleep and slept for several hours.
When I awoke my entire body was stiff and every time I thought about raising myself out of bed my muscles screamed with pain. Though my responsibility to myself and my family lay heavier on my shoulders, I found the strength to get out of the bed. I went over to the dresser in my room and picked out the nicest shirt and slacks that I owned. I put on my shoes and slicked back my hair. I had to make a good impression. There was no other option for me. I would have to face my fears, my pains, my demon and I was going to look good while doing it.
I walked down the stairs to where my Mother was eating some bread by the counter. She had large purple curlers in her hair and her makeup was caked on like a rodeo clown. “Where are you off to in such a rush today?” She said with a sarcastic tone. “I’m off to find a job mother.” I replied to her. “Well it’s about God Damn Time!” She yelled to me as I walked out the door of my parent’s home.
Over and over in my mind I told myself to be courageous. I had to have my confidence soaring if I was to ask for a job, from the very woman that tormented my dreams and my hopes. She was everything to me, and I needed her. The thing that I was afraid of was the fact that she didn’t need me. She had her life, her new fiancé, and her career. I was just a low life, but I was a man without anything to lose. This was the strength that I found to carry each foot step to her place of work.
It was a large building, with many flashing red and yellow lights. A daunting large sign hung above the door that said “Leave it to Beaver’s A Gentleman’s club.” I took a deep breath and made my way to the door. Before I could enter a large grizzly bear of a man with a name tag that said Butch opened the door. With his gruff voice he asked me “Going somewhere cowboy?” I stared at his large biceps and his salt and pepper mustache. He had fine beads of sweat pouring off of his forehead. “Ahem!” he said.
“I..I’m here to see Starla.” I said as confidently as possible.
“I’m sure you are. They are always here for Starla, but there is a problem buddy. Starla is on stage tonight and she doesn’t take any visitors before a show.”
The sting of hearing “They are always here for Starla,” sent a mental bullet to my heart. It was true, Starla had many guys after her, wanting to be with her, fuck her, and do all types of strange fetishes with her, but it wasn’t something I liked to hear. After all a man was going to marry her.
“You must understand, I’m Starla’s…How do I explain this.” I tried to say before I was interrupted by this brute of a man.
“No you don’t seem to understand pal! (he said with an emphasis on Pal) You can’t see her. The boss won’t allow any of you scum bags to derail her from giving a top performance.”
It felt hopeless to argue with the man. I didn’t want to make the bear angry. I took a deep sigh and said “Fine, I’ll be back later tonight to see the show.”
“It costs money to get in, you know! So I expect you to have it.”
Shot down once again, I thought. How can it be so difficult for a man to talk to his ex-fiancé, let alone cost money to talk to her? Butch closed the door and I could hear the lock on it turned. I walked back over to the side of the road, where a lovely curb just perfect for sitting lay. I sat down, trying to think of a possible way of entering the club and seeing Starla. I had to talk with her in order to ask for a position. I wasn’t going to give up, for some reason my life was spared last night, I was not going to take no for an answer.
I stood back up from the comfy sidewalk and started to look for a way into the club. Maybe I could sneak in the back door? I walked over to the side of the building where the trail of flashing lights wrapped around and where more parking could be found. There was a side door there. I quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching, more importantly to see if Butch was watching. No one was there so I walked up to the door. It was locked.
Still I felt the necessity to continue on my search for getting into the building. I walked over to the back of the building where a metal wire fence with red panels (to block from people seeing into) was guarding the back entrance. Luckily, I could see through the cracks of the red panels that there was a door. This was my chance, but I knew if I was caught by Butch or anyone other than Starla I would be chased off the property and not allowed back in. Luckily I knew fate was with me.
Scaling the fence was no easy task. Especially when my muscles were so exhausted from my fight with death. Though I began to awkwardly lift my body up over the fence, I suddenly found myself stuck on top, with the pointed metal ends of the fence continuing to drive into my flesh. I screamed as I lifted myself off the metal fence and fell with a loud thud. The fence had done its worst to me as it had ripped a large hole into my nicest shirt and I was bleeding a little. The burn of an open wound always made me feel so alive. It was how I could find the courage to carry on with my ridiculous plan.
It was then that complete and utter terror seized my soul. The back door was opening. I could see the door handle jiggle a little as the door was forcibly opened. I scampered my way over to a table that was shaded underneath a giant oak tree. I sat down with my legs crossed and pretended to act like I was supposed to be there, before the person appeared.
Looking quite puzzled I saw a woman looking out at me. I couldn’t exactly see her face as it was shadowed from the inside of the club. Though I recognized the tattoos on her lower left thigh, a large butterfly dancing its way up around her inner leg. It was Starla! Thank god! It was then that I heard her elegant voice. “Wilford? Is that you? Why…What on earth are you doing back here?” She exclaimed. She walked outside with a cigarette in her hand. The red ember of the cigarette reflected the glitter off her cheek bones. She was wearing a black leather get up that showcased her cleavage and her belly button ring. She looked magnificent with her dark eye shadow on.
Sheepishly I sat there at the table as she walked over to me. I grinned, and waved to her. “What are you doing?” She said again.
“Well I thought I’d stop by to see your performance.” I tried to sound brave, but it rather came out like boy who just hit puberty. Squeaking at the end of my sentence.
“You couldn’t have used the front door? And what happened to your shirt?! Oh my god! And are you bleeding?” She frightfully said.
Her words of concern warmed my heart. I always loved that about her. She always knew how to make a man feel like a million bucks.
“Now not too many questions all at once my deer.” I said trying to keep it cool. I continued with “Truth is I came down to ask you about that position you told me about the other day. I’m in need of a job.”
“Oh the maintenance position?”
“yes of course, the maintenance position.”
“I believe it’s still available. You know how these clubs are run, they are always looking for someone to clean the desire rooms and shit from the toilet stalls.” She grinned as she took a puff from her cigarette.
“Yes, well I think I’m the man to do it.”
“Well then come on in. I’ll see if I can’t get you a talk with Teddy the proprietor of this fine establishment. However let’s get you cleaned up a little. Follow me.”
She came over and reached for my hand. I grabbed it as she helped me up from the table. It was like the fourth of July with thousands of fireworks exploding when I touched her hand. It was the softest and most beautiful hand I had ever seen. She slowly walked me over to the back door and I followed her in.
The place had a musty smell of tobacco and spilt whiskey. We walked together back into her dressing room. I noticed a big bright rose colored star with the letters S T A R L A acrossed it hanging on the front of the door. “Take a seat over there in front of the mirror, and remove your shirt. Don’t be shy now.” She said while walking to her closet. She was searching for something and threw all types of clothes to the other side of the room.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My nicely combed hair was no longer slicked back and looked like an animal had made a place of refuge in it. I licked my dirty fingers and tried to comb over the mess of hair. It was then that Starla found what she was looking for, a short sleeved red and green collared shirt. “Here it is!” she squealed with excitement. That was another thing I loved about her, she got so excited over the most contrived things. “Now this is Barry’s shirt that he left here after he brought me lunch yesterday.” She said. Barry was Starla’s new fiancé.
“Does Barry always leave without a shirt on?” I asked.
“No!” she said with a smirk “Alright mister smart guy let’s get you cleaned up.” She said while placing one hand on her hip and the other pointing to her mouth. I could tell she was thinking about what to do next.
I stared at her as she walked over to her purse on the wall. She had the tightest bottoms on and it appeared like she had a wedgie in between her perfect buttocks. She rummaged through her purse and pulled out a pack of baby wipes. “These are Alan’s, I’m sure he won’t mind if we use them. Alan was Starla’s 16 month old son” She laughed as she walked over to me. “Now let me see that cut!” she said.
I lifted my arm up from where the fence had bit me. The blood was dripping down my curved belly. She started to pull a few wipes out and washed my cut. The wipes stung every time she rubbed her hands on it. “Where did you come from Wilford?” She said with a sigh. I didn’t answer her, I was too busy looking into her beautiful emerald eyes.
Alright now let’s put this shirt on. She threw it at me and I unbuttoned it and slowly put it on. She went over to the drawer next the chair I was on and brought out a comb. “Lets do something with your wild hair.” She said next. I felt like I was her Barbie, or in this case Ken doll, but I was thankful for her help and acceptance. She started to comb the knots out of my hair with some force. “Owe!” I said. “Oh don’t be such a baby!” She retorted.
“There! As good as new.” She said while stepping back and taking a look at me. It was true, she made me look good even if I was in this smelly old shirt from her newest fiancé. “Now I want you to just stay here, and let me go talk to Teddy about you. Hopefully we can get you in for the position.” Starla said. She left me in her dressing room.
It was soon after she left that I could hear a bunch of commotion coming from outside her dressing room door. God I hope it isn’t Butch. Finally a knock and a voice came at the door. “Starla! Starla! Sweetheart I need you to decide something for me and Mandy. Are you in there!” It was two of the woman that worked at the Gentleman’s club. What do I do? Do I answer the door? No, I better not risk the chance of me getting caught by the brute of a man. I sat there and tried to not make a sound. The knock came again. “Starla! I’m coming in!” Oh Christ! I thought. The door opened. “Starla?” the woman looked into the room. She then let out a terrible scream!
It was soon after the woman screamed at me that Butch came running. “Whats all the god damn commotion mandy?” But said while running into Starla’s room. Looking at me with somewhat of a shock and little hesitation he began to come at me. “Why you sneaky little Bastard!” Butch yelled as he tried to grab me. I ducked as he ran into the dresser, but my next move wasn’t as glorious. I started to run for the door, but who knew the grizzly man had speed like a wild cat. He caught me by the neck and threw me out the door and on to the hard floor. The women continued to scream! “Help! Help! An intruder! A Rapist!” I heard one of the woman scream.
Right before the big lug Butch rang my bell, I heard Starla scream “STOP DON’T HIT HIM!” but it was too late. His right fist, the size of my head, landed and knocked me out cold.
08 Wednesday May 2013
Posted in Short Stories
The night Continued:
The night was dark and full of demons. The kind of monster’s that lurks in the deepest caverns of the mind, my mind. Sleep was not going to bless me with its graces this night. It was then and there that I decided my fate, my doom. I could not face the woman that ripped my heart from my soul. I could not have my mind concentrating on selling when her beauty would overwhelm my very mind. Then to have it shattered knowing that I would never be able to be with her. She is no doubt a witch, a temptress of everything that I am. She would have the will of my body, and after she was done she’d throw it in the gutter. Perhaps that’s where I belong?
I walked down to the pier during witching hour. The time of night that no man, woman, or child should see. The skies were a dark grey and the wind blew so hard that I thought it would surely tip my shallow frame to the ground. A storm was coming, and it was my day of reckoning. My day had finally arrived to meet my maker.
The row boat was attached to the bridge jetting into the ocean. I took the oars and threw them into the grimy boat. The seats were worn from the hard rain, and the wood splintered into my flesh when I sat down. I placed the oars one by one into the ocean and began to row myself out into the deep. I rowed until I could no longer see the shore. I rowed with ferocity with the thought of the love of my life getting married. I was exhausted by the time the waves began to be too much. The water began to fill into the frail boat. A large gust of wind picked the boat and flipped it over, sending me into the ice cold water. Gasping for one last breath before my plunge into the ocean, an oar swung wildly up into the air and bashed me in the forehead. The pain was much but it would all be over soon, I told myself, as I was swallowed up by a gigantic wave.
It was like another world, another dimension, waiting for me as I began to force myself deeper into the dark abyss they call the ocean. I could see the fish floating with the wild motion of the water. Truly, it was a magnificent site to behold. It was then that everything began to change. My vision began to blur as I was losing oxygen. I panicked for only a few seconds but then my soul began to ease. My mind rushed with the thoughts of everything I had done and experienced. The day I was born, my mother and father looking at me with eyes of love. My first kiss with the girl whose dad worked in the bakery down the house I grew up in. The day I graduated from high school. The day I fell in love was the last thing I remember picturing before the darkness.
Gasping! Choking! Spitting! Up the water that was in my lungs it had felt like my insides was a gas fire burning without an end in sight. I breathed deeply only to get a mouth full of sand. Coughing and spewing up the wet mud from my mouth I lay freezing on the shore. My head felt like it had been smashed by a two ton weight, and I could feel the ocean brushing up against my legs. My day to meet my maker did not come. I was somehow spared. I laid there for what seemed like hours until I could begin to feel my fingers.
I soon found the strength to lift my body up from the ground. It was the first time in years since I could feel something. My body was surely beaten and bruised by the storm. My head ached from the oar, but my soul had the most peculiar feeling. It was as if it was beaming with light with some sort of clarity that I hadn’t felt before. I escaped death and for what reason I do not know.
I arrived at the home of my parents. The windows were dark and the skyline was just about to glow from the first rays of the sun. My eyes burned and my flesh was the color of a light purple. I walked into the home a quietly as I could and went to the bathroom. I ran the warm water to the tub and stripped my drenched clothes from my body. I sat in the water as it rose to my chest. I could feel my body temperature reaching a normal state and I watched as the sand and dirt were removed from my skin. Today was a new day.
07 Tuesday May 2013
Posted in Short Stories
The night of-
Today I was supposed to start my uphill battle to join the system. The society that I have been born into is nothing but a falsification of what life should be. Nevertheless, my plans have been distorted. The money I was supposed to receive to pay for schooling has been denied. I am horribly discouraged. I wanted to get out of the hole that I have placed myself into. I wanted to socialize and meet new people, especially new women. School is a great way to do this, though my hopes for joining my fellow scholars has been dismantled. Am I to remain a peasant my entire life?
Tonight my heart rages against the injustices of the “Justice System.” Although it is true that I am a thief, and one that was caught and prosecuted. I believe my sins should be washed clean. Instead at every step, at every door, I get turned away from. For a first time offense, and never have committed any wrong in my childhood this minor error has poisoned my life. Without a job, I have no money. Without money I am left as a beggar on the street. How am I supposed to provide and gain social status without being able to get a job? Instead they leave me with no choice but to commit another crime, or become a disease to the very people I am trying to support. Oh my family, sees me as rotten scum beneath the gym rats boots. Though they do not understand the pain I feel and guilt that deteriorates my soul. What am I to do oh Holy Justice System? In which can do no wrong…
the woman I was once engaged too, spoke with me the other day. I hadn’t heard her voice in over 2 years. She lied to me, as she always does though I am not sure what part was a lie and which was the truth. She is a master at the game, and me being no fool, still has trouble seeing the pieces of the puzzle. That is, when it comes straight from her elegant mouth. She tried to raise my spirits by telling me about a position that was open at her place of work. She encouraged me to apply and told me the pay was quite good. Though she tries to help, she only opens my wounds more. After her support she dashes my hopes by telling me that she is engaged and soon to be wed in a mere 9 days. She asks me if I am happy? What sort of a question can this be coming from the woman that has hurt me as much as she? My heart doth burn with anguish and pangs from the blood pumping through, so much that I wish to end my life. I tell her I am happy and I am doing what I can to be content with life. Our conversation ends with disconnect and a lost call.
So my battle continues, and the face of failure laughs at me. Do I apply for the position at the place of my once to be fiancés work, and see her there with her new wedding ring and her sharp smile everyday in an eternity of hell? Do I place my soul in the path of this witch? This demon who has hurt me so? Or do I continue to feast off my family’s poor income like a rat in a place in which no cat lives? This is the battle my conscious fights tonight.
Though I can’t help but think that I would benefit greatly from ending my life, and that my family would no longer have to worry about where I am and what harm I am causing to their great name. I once bestowed my heart and life to the woman that will soon be married and now it might be better for her if I was no longer, if I no longer existed. She would be able to move on fully, and without a doubt enjoy the remainder of her life. With me being gone, the world might be a better place. But do I have the courage to stand and fight? Or do I kneel and give my blessed life to the cosmos? One will only know which I choose, if there is not another entry to this journal. To the night I wish a good morning, and the morning I wish a good night.
30 Tuesday Apr 2013
Posted in Poetry
Fumigate, illuminate, instigate, paint.
Let your disease into the children of men.
One must wonder why all the hub bub?
Communicate.
Let’s not stop the talking,
must we incite it.
There is no blood moon and no black hole sun.
why wont the end ever come?
the hopes of thousands await their turn,
One day Atlantis will return.
When the green becomes much
and the trees begin to stretch
Little springs and rivers flow into the trench.
How much is too much?
The safety of long walks and sitting on a park bench,
One must wonder who will feed all the pigeons?
Cut us down to a different size,
Let us ignore the temperature’s rise.
Take what is wanted not what is needed.
The security of a life completed.
Let’s not stop to ask the time?
Continue to walk on bye
You’re my enemy and therefore you must die
Seems a silly way to live the lie
Cooperate, participate, and forget all the hate.
Now I have to go, really, its getting late
So long
And don’t forget to sing a joyful song
Until We Meet Again perhaps.
24 Wednesday Apr 2013
Posted in Poetry
Tags
diving, Indigenous, life, vice
The green murky water reflects the bog and rocks.
Wouldn’t you love to come get a shock.
A treatment that no one seems to be able to unlock.
Who has the key to the mystery, is it the whispering voice of flattery?
The man in the moon he always talks to me.
I’m not talking about organized churches
Soaring birds so high they can see the tops of bridges.
Love lost, always comes at a cost.
No man plays the game, without one day pointing the blame
On himself.
Tonight there is a dark dreary melody
Tonight there is something inside of me.
Its grasping at the strings, my poor wings.
Bloodied and boiling, vehemence and vomiting,
One can recall a young man’s cliff diving,
jumping into the unknown with nothing but the wind flowing
past his head.
The thought of landing dead rushes through his thoughts
The water at the bottom is lost
wondering why his body was tossed.
Until the great flow of life comes to catch us
the cliff diver places his hands together
as he slips into a liquid lust
his fingers surrounded by the laws of life
His body tingles from the indigenous vice
Its all to much for those of us,
its all to much for those who hate us.
22 Monday Apr 2013
Tags
A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow–
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand–
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep–while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
(I read this tonight and felt obligated to share it. This is a beautiful poem from one of the greatest master poets ever. Edgar you are moving! I wish I could thank him for his writing.)
14 Sunday Apr 2013
Posted in Poetry
I was talking to a man who walked the line,
A man that was trapped by marriage, and debt.
Caged by his weight, and enslaved by processed foods.
The man woke up early in the morning, to feed the mouths of his responsibility.
He hooked himself up to a computer screen, attached the mouse and keyboard to his thumb and ring.
His life drained from his fingers into the vibrant screen.
He was yelled at for being late, he was yelled at for not making his boss’s coffee taste great, he was yelled at for everything,
But never thanked.
All in a days work he said.
When he arrived home, his family was there to greet him among a stack of bills to pay.
His wife had already started drinking earlier in the day,
His two children, a girl and boy, the boy had a disease and the girl had a broken toy.
They ran to their father’s open arms to tell him of their problems,
But daddy was to tired from his work, drained and full of exhaustion.
They cried to him, while he sat in front of his television for an escape.
He said such is life and such is fate.
He told me that walking the line was an experience that we all must take.
We all must go through life enduring each and every experience life has to offer.
We had a few beers and I brought up my courage,
I told him, without a doubt you will experience, because experience is what life is about.
If life is about experience, then why not jump right in?
Gather it up like you would a pile of leaves, and throw your experience up in the wind.
Let the cold brisk air numb your face, and let the spring rain on your tongue just for the taste.
Open up your arms and praise the sun, as it warms your soul.
Listen to the birds sing, or watch the matador kill the bull.
Smell the lilac bush, the rose, the lilies and daffodils,
Bend down to touch the cold mountain lakes while paddling in a canoe.
Such is life, what will you do?
He only had one thing to say to me, “at least I have my ford truck with tinted windows and heated leather seats.”
I grabbed for the vodka to pour us some stronger drinks.
