hash and thrash

it was torturing me, so i had to leave - but do i want to believe? do i want to delve into my issues for any reason? or anyone else's? fuck me - FUCK that fucking idiot - who cares?

why should i?

damn, conscious of not being zen enough, ha

*

I'm going away - people don't do it for me anymore

I'm retreating - i'm leaving it all behind

I'm going, going going, let me be gone

no i know, i'm just posing

damn, such ridiculous sadness

eternal shallowness

hollow, everyone

i'm trying not to wallow in hollow

but hollow's wallowing in me

abyss staring

goddamn, what is the deal with me

i hate that son of a bitch i wish he'd go away

i want to run away from him. i hate being confined

me myself and i, shatter that perverse trinity

my ego is a rusty hunk of junk, a chore, a stone chained to my soul

obligation to do something
obligation


chains
guilt
hate

i should write a ten minute technically good slow boring song about wanting to be free


had a few years break from self-hate, now it comes back with a vengeance, and it tells me to hate everyone else too - but i see it as false-misanthropy, that doesn't quite fly for me any more, i've seen too much


i'm allowing myself to be trapped in my shallow wallowing, fuck that bullshit, but i don't want to bullshit myself, or do i?

different perceptives, i've lost memories, brain cells have died - i wonder what i offer

i am alone, without dez, my other half is ethereal
my other consciousness, a whole brain hemisphere in a person - it's tragic when we don't connect like we should - it's a tragedy that i don't see being so hung up on the coatrack of ego, spine twitching in artistic idiocy

i like to perceive things, experience things - i also have my habits and patterns, my playing music, my sadomasochistic relationship with music

this is what i'm reduced to, so hollow, so shallow
wondering about people getting back into coke scenes
the king and the coke castle, his rules
christmas cocaine, the reign of pointless pleasure and pain

waiting for the miracle, ah whatever

playing mars volta

being snubbed, snug as a bug in a void

i know some people appreciated, it's not enough for me, no, let me be terribly honest and say, jeffery lewis was right, you need more and more flatteries to recharge your batteries, cause now the glammer of the sell-out stardom concept is starting to twinkle into your pot sprinkled eyes, you're seeing, you're seeing yourself whoring, like you'd be a two dollar whore, maybe less...

but it's amazing what castles people build for themselves... maybe i should take a walk to the bakery

times like these in years past i'd turn to drugs, i can't seem to muster the kind of relationship i used to have to drugs, those beautiful chemical manipulators, but, but, i don't know, my shellshocked inner being blubblers - i don't know about that...

i'm trying to write a novel too, sometimes i think maybe that's what i have to offer, i should bury myself in that

but if given a choice, i'd bury myself in much deserved dez, a muff diving riff of reef-gems rifting all the way to gaia's fantastic pacific - just a small little coke-crusted sliver of a shell of a planetary body and mind you know

yeah, let's say i ain't shit, let's let the sighs die, suffocate, an eternal contrived breathout, flatline, comatastic bombast

i don't know what would remedy this impossible burden of negativity, of course ego induced, and a negative outlook on everybody, mostly, friends, frayed connections and ridiculous expectations, but i wish i had my lover here right now, she'd make me feel what i need to feel, the real

*

Castles in the sky, castles in the shire - a ridiculous riff, i know it's going nowhere - i'm not comfortable with nowhere, i can't articulate the most amazing thoughts, can only explain the mundane

*

Meh.

*

I see potential hallucinations. Going back in time. Explaining things to the people of the past. Putting them on the same page. For plots. Predictable, prediculous.

*

Porn, too far into sleaze. Not there. But what? Don't ask me, I'm just a poor repressed bundle of raging anxiety, gonna explode one of these days, not that i want to, i haven't learned to love the kinetic energy.

*

You can do what you want, pay no mind to me. Demonstrate your aboveness, hey, do the dark trip - disillusion me nicely - i'll fire back volleys of cryptic sarcasm - i'll be able to explain it away easily cause no one understands, it's impossible to get across - i can claim anything i ever wrote or said was meaningless, nothing, bullshit, bury the honesty in crypticity

but it's true that some things seem to matter less later

and good on that hericlitian flow, i'd love to throw my lot in with the train of vagabonds

*

wish i had the right person to rap with -

i would forge a connection if i could - i've been living, satiated, with synthetic relationships...

then there was the organic, the reality, the content, the moments - the stillness, the timelessness, the righteousness of dez and me, the fields, the cities, the journies, aqua teen and homestar, the depths, the sadness, the regimes, the drinking, the drugs, the smoking, the hugs, the loving, the hating, the never hating so much, the binding, the strength of the string

the countdown
12:36

maybe i'll go out and collect taxes from the masses, but i shouldn't - i don't want to be king - but i don't know if i'm confortable being the bum - can't have charity, want the real thing, won't say what that is, i don't know if i know

it's hard to be clear

fuck, things are so different now, slippery reality
it changed on me, i can't relate to past selves, ontologies

i don't even really write anymore, except when really weird and it seems like a good idea, i'm drifting toward becoming a profoundly frustrated musician, dreaming big dreams, concepts, failing, following, flailing in ego loops and lingo limbos

*

at times like these i would turn to drugs - but i see no answer in psychedelics - maybe a process...

something to do?

where's heroin - who's dick do i gotta suck to get some smack around here?

nah, i don't want it that bad, in fact i can't even bother to make my own pharmaceutical extracts anymore, and i don't grow plants or vegetables anymore either

no doubt to a chorus of gleeful afterschoolspecial victory huzzahs - something's gotta change i feel... something, but i don't know what, maybe everything

but at the same time, i don't want it to all collapse in a violent and savage chaostrophy - maybe it won't, maybe the momentum of society/technology is too great - but history's full of lessons, stories of people who took things for granted...

but really, who knows?

*

don't ask me, i'm just a novelist and an idiot keyboard player, seething in arbitrary negativity, trying to pin the tail on the dao

*

i know when to quit - and how