talk is cheap, silence is golden, screaming is free.
vicieux
engulfed
"you look...dusty." happy as a filled-in blank i tell you. statistically delicious. you can have my walls when you pry them from my cold dead peripheral vision. & there's me switched into grinning-idiot mode for an incongruously rosy future. lead us not into temptation? you're WALLOWING IN IT. permanent midnight in the garden of good & two-shoes.


[the illustrious & fabulously costumed mickey western band]

this picture was taken the night i dragged my unblinking self from station to station up & down impossible stairs white-knuckled gripping the rails having left my eyelids somewhere on gates avenue. putting on my makeup in the mirror watching my pupils migrate to opposite sides of my eyes, disinterestedly. but you can't tell. DEATH'S DOORBELL: RING & RUN. this was also one of the best shows i've ever done, by all accounts? better living through chemistry, right, hazardous materials with hidden agendas. walk like a public service announcement talk like a menace to society. stand up fall down repeat as necessary before you finally learn your lesson. these things don't happen too frequently & we could be here all night. in fact we have been. what's your excuse. getting more full of holes than my plotlines. mayday mayday

preternaturally relaxing weekend later aboard schroedinger's bus to the frozen north, fireplace basking & all was however temporarily right with the world. fast-forward button is back on but it's ok i'm becoming one with the evidence. you can pay in cash, credit, or attention. you are the sum of the sleep you lose. THERE IS NOT / THERE WILL NEVER BE anyone on the other end. ground control called, they said they quit. in a voice strangely like my own. funny how that works funny how i don't, life lived as an out-of-body experience is imminent because one of these days the way back in will have occluded entirely "while i was out." this isn't just a parade of deadlines it's a veritable beauty pageant of the fuckers, watch them twirl, bat deadline-eyelashes, & perform while your own life inexorably climbs the scaffold. my, what big problems you have! the better to bore you with, my dear. i make sheep's clothing look damn good.

a disembodied car part for your thoughts.
shoot me
engulfed
oh, this ol’ thing? i got tired of waiting for the aliens & decided to kidnap myself.



two weekends of sold-out shows, fork-in-the-light-socket for my wilting delusions of grandeur, now we can carry on like this for ever & ever or at least until we forget. new year means no more vague-fuck-up-as-self no now when we fuck up it's going to be INTENTIONAL & SPECTACULAR. but: oh, the places you’ll GO!! more importantly, oh, the places you WON’T!!! we rearrange your priorities like dudes in dark alleys with blunt instruments rearrange your face. this is what happens when you play with fire after its bedtime, & coded language so rarely works with my content these days it seems useless to try. no time to complain about how little time i have to DOT DOT DOT three little bullets all in a row they're like blind mice but less cuddly

but still harder & harder to ignore the neon glowing FAILURE sign on the horizon i mean the sandworms are getting restless in the hourglass. time is running out [of money? but time IS money! & you see this is how we make the logical loops we hang ourselves with]. ambitions. right. i know i left them around here somewhere, right between the rock & the hard place, where could they have gone. better luck next time i guess since in this warm fuzzy wannabe-parallel universe there is always a next time there is no last chance because that implies a cutoff & warm fuzzy shrinks back from sharp edges like plagues or economic downturns. ie, not well enough, obviously, look what a pickle we’ve gotten into!! at least i didn’t exactly have a job to lose. aside from my publishing bitchwork filing contracts for titles like now that i’m educated, why don’t i have a future? [NOT MAKING THAT UP. filed that one a few days ago. shivers up my spine brought their friends & had a goddamn party in my vertebrae. tapping my phonecalls isn't enough now they've gotta tap my SPINE well i]

“i lost my soul, can i borrow yours?” oh silly, you forgot to say please. never get anywhere in life that way. bridges will burn you before you open the matchbook. reality beat fantasy at its own game for the first time in a very long while & i am understandably unsettled all moth-flame harmony about it. they say someday i’ll feel this way about people but fuck that honestly. can't depend on them, i mean shit look what i’m capable of, look at what i’m not. misery may love company but it loves currency more, i mean, that’s what i hear, wink wink, don’t budge. i’ll be back with reinforcements. don't hold your breath.


if i'd known it was harmless, i would have killed it myself
shoot me
engulfed


draw your weapon / draw a blank / draw breath

2008 was an incoherent sequence of washing my hands interspersed with episodes of cutting them off to spite my wrists. can wave a fond farewell as it swirls down the drain & let's have another round of applause for THE FUTURE. just please don't make it a 2007 i can't take that shit again. & i'm too old for another 2006 so. do i jump out of a building or glue things to my forehead or do nothing that would theoretically endanger my well-being as was last year's m.o. do i care. would i like to. if wishes were horses the world would be full of shit--OH WAIT. next time i sigh wistfully i hope a unicorn charges out of my forehead. a life without surprises is no life at all.

[writing neurons fried as hell from kicking another semester's ass via extended periods of wakefulness, featuring talking kitchen walls & an irritating snowstorm that would not leave my vision no matter how hard i tried to convince myself it was not in fact snowing. oh aunt phetamine we sometimes wish you would stay locked up in the attic]

the book from years ago is getting rewritten, in a miraculously evolved form. never thought that would happen. can't stand to even read the old version as knowing i wrote it? makes me want to build a time machine & shove my three-years-ago self into the welcoming arms of an oncoming train. all's well that fucking ends.

DEATH BY TECHNICALITY
vicieux
engulfed
new, improved, disproved: butterfly/stomach harmony. i haven't dodged this many guillotines in more than a year & the fun isn't over yet! inventing new & better ways of fucking up. alternately fun & horrifying. writing front-page articles about Other People's Problems instead of talking about them here, or my own matching set of 99, which bores me to tears while it follows me around the apartment tugging at my invisible apron strings. what part of drop dead do you deliberately misunderstand, Space & Time called they want their omnipotence back, but i'm not falling for it this time

encapsulated haute couture in a mere six hours when i was first mistaken for a fashion designer [opening salvo was "i love that jacket! is it a yamamoto? it looks like a yamamoto!"] & then for that old standby the great american junkie ["dude, we thought you ODed"]. woke up in a mistake, went back to sleep. time, tide, & terror wait for no man but it isn't for lack of trying. mistakes beget mistakes beget mistakes til it gets downright fucking biblical in here what with all the begetting & you need to open the window. SURPRISE! they're locked & you get suffocated by your own damned metaphors. poetic justice never tasted so good.

news flash: THE CUTTING ROOM HAS NO FLOOR
[where do i end up now??? the suspense keeps me up at night, though it certainly has help]
i mean if the end wasn't so damned near all the time, we could actually have some privacy!!! the apocalypse is a peeping tom. don't let it catch you in a compromising situation. & now we begin what may be the world's singularly most improbable countdown, step outside for a cigarette break, & forget where exactly we've stepped out from. wondering why reality doesn't come with a bookmark. STOP THE CLOCK I WANT TO GET OFF

resist dead psychics
tarantella
engulfed


also, i'll be playing in the Mickey Western show the night before at Gringolandia @ Honey Space...that's the spaceship-saloon hybrid place for those unfortunate enough not to have seen it yet, go!

[something tells me that after this weekend i'm either going to finally sleep for more than an hour or just explode]
[PLACE YOUR BETS KIDS]

Paradise tossed
tarantella
engulfed


die now, prey later--the zombie manifesto

this cat is too big for its bag excuse me we need a bigger bag
vicieux
engulfed


THAT'S JUST THE WAY THE COOKIE MUMBLES & if the cookie is talking you have a lot more problems than i do, congratulations, please accept this handshake in lieu of cash [taking someone's picture & they: "try to hold your hands steady this time" "well really i can't, see, ." cry me a river & call it an excuse]. my ears ring like bells & pavlov's dogs salivate appropriately. more importantly that book i was going to write x million years ago may have become my graduation project thus sparing me the need to do a) work b) anything c)

shows renewing my utterly lapsed interest in life & whatever's living it, it's an unfortunate coincidence that my value is directly proportional to my stage appearances but hell that's the THING all the world TRIED to be a stage but got caught up in the paperwork. a shame, really. wasted potential isn't just for the human race anymore, or me. think on your feet not on the clock. this is your brain, this is your brain on the run, this is your brain on the installment plan.

& space & time have been utterly bent out of proportion ie. Is It Still Today, today? so much that clocks are causing inadvertant giggles that i find it extremely difficult to explain, goddamn world rotating too slow again what am i supposed to DO about this because i think i already did it [on second thought, there are no second thoughts]. obligatory liaison with reality: "at least the election turned out well!" yeah i voted & everything, felonyconvictionwhat'sthat uh TMI stands for Three Mile Island remember?

how many more Its can i possibly lose before someone calls bullshit on this whole enterprise, i mean

TRICK QUESTION

dude where's my epitaph.
death by orchard
engulfed
looks like i got lost in the realm of possibility! CAN I EVER BE FORGIVEN. now feel like a television & don't get to be entertained just wait to see what comes next have i ever mentioned how terrible i am at waiting. eat silence like a brick through your window someone's gotta forcefeed you REALITY. spoon-as-airplane style ladies & gentlemen lend me your ears, mine seem to have gone missing what's that dead souls keep caaaaaalling me but their messages are utterly unintelligible. guilty as DIIIIIISCHARGED! & i'm skipping merrily out of everywhere, you don't care where i'm going i don't care where i've been. evenly mismatched evenly mishatched get back in your goddamn egg we don't want you here. kisses!!!!

just another cat without a mouse. i don’t just grasp the concept i take it by the throat and throttle it mercilessly, it begs for mercy but i say what do i look like a nun, grip harder, faster, stronger, longer, built to last not too fast what you need’s a grenade blast. FROM THE PAST. hello former self may i give you a greeting punch or are we not on good terms still. i always forget. that’s something we have in common. stop pretending the world stopped turning a while ago now it's sleeping peacefully & no amount of vicious kicks to the head will wake it up they'll only make things worse i know i've been there

& applying to graduate school seems like the biggest waste of my time since waking up but hey i've fucked up my life too much up to this point to do anything else! congratulations self, you're reaping what you've sown now with more broken glass, resentment, & braindeath. can't we all be one big happy family. or are Big & Happy those words polite conversation hides from behind couches you forgot you had. hey can i crash here? --i don't know, are you the Challenger? --hell yeah. & thus a deal is done, a war is won, & no one here has any fun. this is starting to sound awfully familiar.

lower east side pharmaceutical highschool
shoot me
engulfed

WITH ENEMIES LIKE THESE WHO NEEDS FRIENDS

living life as one long roll of caution tape. what you didn't see sure saw you, had an army of paparazzi at the ready or maybe just an army as you found yourself staring down a ten foot expanse of gun barrels. & said: that’s all? not dead at least that's what i stubbornly keep telling myself in between faked breaths & forced blinks. the universe pulled out from under me & replaced with a clever copy. guy at the corner store trying to poison my push-button cappuccinos but i'm too clever by half, too clever by a whole a hole in the head which well i NEED. let it all out baby let it allllllll out. a live wire & a dead wire appear the same on the outside after all i call it when i see it with my x ray eyes

last ryder pales show of the year was rock star delicious & from there the future looks all shiny & magnetic but reality keeps tugging at my skirts & saying feed me feed me i'm forced to snap shut up you footnote, go home, around here we HUNT reality we use it as a dart board we speak softly & hit it with big sticks. canned laughtracks leaping out like snakes when i say i graduate in the spring but it's true, i think i'm proving something but can't recall for the life of me what it is. only going through the motions of chasing my tail when really i'm sitting imperfectly still, ogling the abyss like a pro. those are some mighty sharp teeth you have there oh the better to take a bite out of crime, my dear

& what will you do with that tail if you ever catch it but abandon it for another bigger better shinier SMACKTAIL [tm]

meow mix meow mix please deliver me into the lion's mouth, i've heard it's warm & cozy in there, my sources they never lie i'm getting an eye in the back of my head so please stop following me before it's too late, i only check my watch because i think the ticking is a bomb but who am i kidding i don't even wear a watch i argue with time til it flies & it's usually headlong into a brick wall FAMILIAR TERRITORY. why don't we all just grow fat off eating our own words, TASTES GREAT EVEN LATE & better late than never, better never than FOREVER, JUST ad[d] nausea[m] watch the crowd go wild

double-majoring in "fuck off" & "die"
shoot me
engulfed


my new favorite pickup line is "your money or your life"

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