salivate, ye fools!

he awoke to the sound of his cb squawking, an incessant chant, through the flaring static:

old cars buried halfway in the mud

the urgency of this message was enough to jar him, even if it was impossible to decode. so, thought he,
this is what the future looks like:
information ad nauseum, a disembodied message trying so very hard, yet, because of it's very cryptic nature, not hard enough, to be communicated.

language has been reduced to the arbitrary system of symbols and subtext that it always has been, always was, always is: we are looking at things in all their natural and unflattering glory, finally

no more well-composed fluffery, trickery in verse, lilting songs or frantic lullabies
if you flinch, you miss it
and that's the worst

old cars buried halfway in the mud

the future is random
and expected
entropy chaos and entropy
again and again
we fall another rung and settle like mongoloids orphaned after one bowl of porridge and a contant/endless cycle of shit-eating
cuz something about the scent
still makes them drool

hmm

i'm not a very emotional person. not on purpose anyway. i'm all brains. no heart. that's not to say i'm smart or that i'm a genius or anything, i'm just fascinated by concepts. ideas. things of that nature. they're the one thing that can distract me from my own crushing inability to relate to other people.

i decided a long time ago that i was going to leave.
the first time was when i was seven. i think. it's all kind of fuzzy looking back at my childhood. the years sort of run into each other, five being just as plausible as eight.
i decided that i would run away then because my sister was running away and i'd rather she had a companion than face the elements alone, those elements, of course, seeming a lot more frightening at the time than they actually were. we lived in a fairly safe suburban setting. i doubt very much she would have made it to the end of the street without someone phoning my parents. in my head, however, i imagined her growing old, abandoning the family forever, living like a bum somewhere in california. and that's what frightened me the most: the thought of never seeing her again, assuming the worst possible fate had befallen her. honestly, though, that tiny glimpse of the life she might have had had she successfully made it all the way to california, or wherever she was going, actually ended up becoming at least half true. she's no better for sticking around here. and i'm no better for trying to stop her, in turn establishing a crippling trend in my selfish motivation for keeping people around, what you might call clinginess. it's the thought of them without me. not to say i complete them or anything or that they're better off with my influence. i just can't stand, absolutely cannot stand, to lose tabs on people. so that's why i followed my sister. and that's why i finally convinced her to come back home, trailing her the whole bike ride home, waiting anxiously for her to finally get inside and unpack her things because that meant she might be staying for good or, if not, at least it would buy me some time while she reconfigured all of her essentials into that tiny backpack again, more an accessory at that age than anything, she didn't really need it for school, she never carried anything in it, and perhaps taking off for good. that was the first time i tricked myself into believing i could just walk away from something, no matter how half-assed and incompletely.

gatorade sickness

i don't profess to know much
but what i do know
is enough to get me by
it's enough to get me through
a typical day
in the life of myself
and, perhaps, someone else's
life
though, i'm not sure
i have my doubts
a good deal of my friends know
a good deal more than i ever will
and i'm fine with this
though, it's a bit discouraging
i see the way they pull seemingly
random facts and obscure place names
and obscure words
and obscure concepts
out of nowhere
their backpockets, maybe
and it's enough to make me want to
devour all the useless information i can
get my grubby little hands on
images and images and images
and sensations
and images and information
i'm a glutton for it
i want to understand string theory and
incorporate its tenants into my everyday
conversation
but, then again, i like what i have
like i said, it's enough to get me by
and there's no one i really need to impress with trivia
what i need is a better way of communicating
myself and my views and my philosophies
and i don't need the views or philosophies of
others, greater men of greater intellect, to corrupt
any conclusions i might naturally come to myself
and relate in my own unique way
a lot has been made of america's propensity for
embracing ignorance
as a source of empowerment
we don't know and we don't want to know
in some cases, this is absolutely sickening
we make mistakes because we simply don't know
the other alternatives or better solutions
we turn a blind eye to any idea we feel too lazy and/or
too unwilling to wrap our minds around
regardless of its merit
we shy away from controversial subjects
dinner-table taboos
because we made our minds up a long time ago
on the matter and we hate to be wrong
that's fine, i guess, but at some point we need to start thinking
deeper about things
if it's too unbearable to consider options posed by observing history
or science or painful concepts introduced by painful personalities
if it's too damned bothersome to confront these opposing forces
then we need to take it upon ourselves to arrive at the same conclusions
with the limited knowledge and understanding we do have
and that's what it's all about, i think, but i don't know
and part of me doesn't care
it's fleeting, really
and there i go preaching again

little something

here's to another calculated risk
for the sake of itself
here's to guns and here's to fists
here's to using all your wits
to fend them off
and fend for yourself
the television's on and it's telling me you're wrong
it's telling me i'm never
no, never alone and

and just like the stars
they'll endure
and just like the stars
so unsure
they know no better
yeah, they don't know any better

passing flirtations with an electric soul

when it's you they want
it's a different story
all the confusion
and the illusion of glory

i want nothing more
in this little old life of mine
than to feel
absolutely relevant
more importantly, i'd like
and i want
and i desire
to fade into interstellar obscurity
blocked by the moon
as if it made a difference
anyway
that's what i want and
for gods sake
pleez pleez pleez
let me believe it's plausible

i lack the foresight to
prepare myself properly
for disappointment

just tell me i'm wrong
and i'll believe it for a while
because i want to
because i know
you've taught me before
just how exhilarating that can be

of course, we're merely replicating
what is natural and in agreement
with the natural order of things
things like routines, sound loops and
literary motifs/though not exclusively
bound to the world of literature
these constant feelings of deja vu
slash sensational familiarizations and
adapting to the larger structure
as we'd like it to be and how we'd like to
imagine it indicates only that we are
fooling ourselves and doing a piss-poor
job of it
i see a friend and first order of business:
start with the inside jokes
i hope he remembers cuz it's my
only means of reminding him of our past
and how i'd like our future to be and
carry on in the same tradition
and pleez: verse chorus verse chorus bridge
becuz it reminds me why i
get up in the first place/why i pantomime
the circles i see myself spinning
it's always the same and that's the way i like it
but you're a threat to the routine
the established order
skim the meniscus/the excess riff-raff
cuz i need that driving beat
polyrhythms when i'm feeling extra saucy
i need structure and order and
you provide with your four chord progressions
don't get all schizo on me
just keep it the same/ that's what i need
a mirror that reflects life like i want to see it:
perfectly in order
like a novel
arranged by chapters

there is no logic to the way this is being written
the only way to read it out loud is to read it the
way i intended it to be read and understood:
in my head and directly to yours
but that's impossible