shit what does it mean?

why am I laying here in bed typing on the computer at 8:04 am on a saturday morning in July. I should be watching cartoons.

It doesn't seem like July. None of the months seem any different anymore. I guess that's San Francisco. Foggy and cold even, especially, in the middle of summer. Genius, pure genius.

Downstairs is getting his bump bump on already. Who plays that shit at this hour? His housemate said his music has a lot of *ounce* to it. And yep, it does. And she lives in the same apartment. haha he's starting to boom. weird. I guess he just doesn't think about other people. it sounds like some crap rave music from the nineties. fucking toad.

zoinks,
like a ping pong ball
bouncing down the sidewalk
i'm wary
of awry
no left turn unstoned
I've passed a marker,
a milestone,
a warning in stone, do not build
below this point.

I Ching yesterday

The I Ching response to my question;

ken k'un

the splitting apart

IT does not further one
To go anywhere.
doesn't seems so auspicious!

yet...

The upper trigram stands for the mountain, whose attribute is
stillness. This suggests that one should submit to the bad time and remain
quiet. For it is a question not of man's doing but of time conditions, which,
according to the laws of heaven, show an alternation of increase and decrease,
fullness and emptiness. It is impossible to counteract these conditions of the
time. Hence it is not cowardice but wisdom to submit and avoid action.

hmm... do I ever do the right thing?

rainy saturday afternoon

His music has a lot of "ounce" she said. He calls it science psychedelia.

On the beyorn
token
of the waiting
driving

down
down\
down
and down again
through
mesquite and sycamore
tumbling rocks
like spaceships
in my mind
down
down
down
again

through knotty pine and beech
the joshua tree with its arms up
reaching up to god
beseeching the sky
maybe for a little rain?
or like an alien waiting for the mother ship to return

phone home ET

eat your reese's pieces
spaceman

and don't answer the phone (can't they fucking ever text?)
dang it anyhow

Can't make it South for SXSW?

I heard there are a lot of beards, cutoffs, and aqua sunglasses.

I watched about half of the movie Slacker yesterday. It takes place in Austin and the plot just follows random people as they go about doing their day. mostly just young people though, I didn't see them following any older people. One older woman got run over by her son. Another older guy was conspiracy theorizing ad hoc including mention of the greenhouse effect.
"it's hot out today, isn't it?"

would that I could
San Francisco
in it's Grayness
In it's Gayness
in it's (no don't say it)
haha

LOL

I'm becoming a rain drop
Van Ness
No Loch
No luck
No monster
the hydra headed creature
up from the depths
is where we live

with seven headed hills
the gate of a mouth
wrapped in orange and told it was gold

Haha

LOL


I'm swearing at the the thought of
riding the bus

Haha

LOL

I'm brimming to the rim
with coffee
(actually no I'm not, just a few cold sips from last nights cup- but STRONG)
i'm turning over in bed
and going back to sleep

Haha

LOL

and the rain hammered down
gathering sand in it's weeping eye
clouds of thunder passed through the night
with rumors forgotten deity
prolax
prolax
my vigilant wanton ness
I am The Loch
for thy breast
I am the I
that reigns in the night
alone with the wind
to talk to

breathe for it
be for it
dont forget
Forget

Forget

do not forget

wait like the sun for a film
by WIm Wenders
wait like the rain
for another chance

passing the moon
passing the moon
tis closer now than she shall ever be

this is your chance
take it
grab it
seize it
carpe de Luna


for getting cheese is not eesy
\the mice run free
on toes of leather
bent to the hood ornament

arrival dissent fortitude anger
broiling in the madness
toiling in the weary
anger
toiling in the weary danger
breathing the fire
of forgetfullness
seize forgetfullness
seiz the platitude
rake the latitude
of non descript leaves

leave now forbidden echelon
dasru urzala
dalai rimpoche
dolly LLama
como te llamas
counting the llamss

moribund and fecal
without the
leaf or bud

crying over cryogenics

steep the tea leaf
leave the tea green
for spleen unseen
and a crying death machine

something like a Subaru

I'm going to write a long poem
now. full of encylopedias and earthworms
cicadids and bifurcated PVC pipe.
I'll do something, say something, write something
long and effortful worrying all the time that
this isn't right or that shouldn't be that way but in the end
it won't matter . why? Well, because it won't. Becasu. Japanese for because.
Becasu you said so. Becasu I said so. And who am i? The one who gets to say.
So shut yer pie hole. and listen. to a story about a man named jed and the cement pond. Granny said she wouldn't cook any vietnamese if jethro killed them. but that's not
anything and I'm referring to myself as some kind of a metpahor
phor existence, best not misspelled . my typing is bad, poor. my typing is poor.
but it gets words into the machine. i could tell you a story about typing class in ninth grade but I won't. It's boring. So is this "long" poem. Becasu.

He could hear the song coming up from downstairs.
from that depressed songwriter who killed himself
"mmm wish I was you..."

They fried their weapons
in the deep fryer with a batter
from Marci's Aunt in Huron country

They fornicated on the grass
"How'd you get those grass stains?"

the boiled their eyes in old fashions
the bar smelled like, well, like the way old bars smell.

They had a propensity for laughing. Everything could seem to be funny.
Like Mr. Wilkins.

They ate their weapons silently sipping Coca-Cola.

a bad morning

I'm supposing
it's not

if you look too long

following an uncorroborated misgiving
he spent his nickel
on a bottle of been there done that

Tea Party joke

A democrat, a republican and a teapartier walk into a bar. The democrat orders a beer, the republican gets whiskey and the tea partier asks for a glass of mule piss. Why? Because he's a fucking idiot.

Here's one from Spain, 2003

meandering lost
tossed from river to
raft
daft, insensible in
my bed, staring, waiting
thinking
too much of
nothing
dreams in the shapes
of bowls bought in
Mexico or feathers
picked from fallen
birds. my boat
rocks again, like a
cradle, this bed my
child-mind cries out. oh
for a little tenderness, a little
love." but the river doesn't
answer, my bed-boat is still
comfortable and I pull the
covers up and over my head

daylight savings had fallen back/
and so had I/
to bed/

It's incredibly dreary/
at 4:53/
and bells tolling/
from where?/
the church by USF/
up on the hill?/

Now sirens/
and the banging of kitchen cabinet doors/
downstairs/

2003

blisters on my arm(s)\
I'm laying in bed/
I'm lying in bed/
don't believe a word/

I wish I had the/
twelve hundred dollars you owe me/
so I could check it off/
the list of things I'm pissed off/
about/

nothing seems meaningful/
or real/
nothings seems like/
anything worthwhile/
is that a function of age/
she said you are bitter/
but what does she know/
she's twenty eight years old/

Oh, and she's hot/
in that kind of smart/
good girl kind of hot/

what am i writing about/
it's 12:50 am/
Rene is flying in tomorrow am/
with his new girlfriend/
from Clisson/
France/

"i like her"
His mother said. Pause
"Better than the other one."

He told me/
If we hang out at the train station/
we might see his dad/
seemed like a good way to spend an afternoon/
although it was fucking freezing out/

I guess that's what they do/
in Great Neck/

I met his brother/
before the car crash/
working on his computer/
at home/
there were/
lots of papers/
all over the place/

I traveled/
with "the other one"/
in a little sports car/
from Salt Lake City/
to Jersey City/

I wanted to kill her/
I should have wanted to fuck her/
but I didn't/
I wanted to kill her/
I liked the dog/
more than her/

he buried himself under/
all the stuff in the backseat/
he wanted to be hidden/
he didn't like cigarette/
smoke/

She didn't have enough money/
coming from Vegas/
she needed my bag of cash/
made from/
growing weed/

following an uncorroborated misgiving
he spent his nickel
on a bottle of has beens

I'm remembering nothing
I'm broken on the shores of my own emptiness
it's not a peaceful thing

forget the commercials
you don't know what you read
you are only forgiving yourself
for crimes committed

happy smiles and drunken laughter
costumed gaiety swirling in the summer to be
fog
you are alone

I planted a basket of waste in my brain
and it bloomed
almost every day

sorry I was so turned the channel
looking for something

fortuna Obligato
the isle of capri
is lovely this time of year
standing on a hill top
with the ocean breeze
no sign of Tiberius or
Tyco Brahe
only a lone hunter with a shot gun
chasing a floundering pheasant
born and raised in a cage the bird(we are later told by the man at the church) was shipped from the mainland (Naples?)
to be released and hunted.
Now the bird is laying in the grass
and the hunter is gesturing with his
rifle.
He wants me to act as his bird dog
and roust the bird into flight so he can shoot it.
I jump around swinging my arms and yelling but the bird just lays there quivering
in fear wondering what this crazy American is doing. I indicate to the Italian that the bird ain't goin' nowhere.
He runs up, jumps on the bird tucks it under his arm and silently
departs through the grass and down the hill.
We decide to go to the same restaurant as the previous night.
The linguine with clams was so good I have to have it again.