Wednesday, February 16, 2011

old mirrors

this is an old old blog, but i will keep it here and let anybody they like read it.

xo - grant.

Monday, February 11, 2008

a collection of journal entries from the start and end of the year, i was going to publish them in a book, but this is so much better and free and immediate:

5:27 am- December 27- two thousand and seven

I went to see leyla today, I was quiet, but it was nice to be with familiar people. Her and hugh and juliette went and drank by the river in the city. There where a lot of drunks in the city, screaming and puking, but the sun was good and hot and it baked my skin. I watched the river for a while, I watched a lot of trash float by and some of it looked like glacier monsters and lonely cannons and official documents and crystal beasts. Leyla said she wished it was cleaner, but I like the trash, it had really wonderful shapes.

I slept for about 40 minutes in three different bursts last night. I can’t sleep for more than that for a few months now. I remember waking up in anwyn’s house next to chris and simon and trying to focus on a dream and go back to sleep. Eve is coming home, everyday it scares me more, I have become different and colder, I terrified that when she comes back and she sits next to me and we close to eachother again that I will still feel alone. Since last January she has been something to focus on and a reason to tense my body and sleep through all the sickness and try and book tours even if they fall over and record the records and write letters to people and draw and occupy myself, keep myself from becoming depressed and useless again. I remember the stupid boring problems of touring like lonliness and boredom and hatred and the same boring problems of not touring, and I remember thinking of eve each time and thinking so long, focusing so long on what she would do if she where here and she knew I felt this way and I got through it. She was like a ghost of great power living in my belly and coming out when I needed her.

On Christmas me and Stanley got into another fight, I wanted to beat the teeth he has left out of him and kick him the fuck out of my house, but zac calmed me down, mom was in tears, stan went home soused on cask wine and now he is trying to bargain with me so he can come over on thursday and bring his kids for a “Post Christmas Christmas Dinner” I told him he’s welcome as long as he doesn’t have any alcohol. Mom wants him here, I don’t know why, she feels sorry for him I think. I wish he’d learn to live alone. That idiot needs some hours alone. When he lived here he was always on my ass about getting a job or doing better in school, he never believed I had faced any “real world problems”. He couldn’t even come see me in hospital for more than an hour. He lived here for 8 years, I must have had at least 30 admissions over those 8 years, he visited me maybe three times for less and two hours each time. I’d watched kids younger than me die all over the place and old people have no sense of where they are or who they are and I’d had to spend hours a day alone thinking about my own death and pain. He never gave a shit, he wanted me to get through school and get a career like he had. I can’t think of anybody I want to be less like in the world.

I am drawing and writing for hours everyday, pushing myself to make something. It’s all I have. THIS is all have, can you believe that?

1:07 pm- December 28- two thousand and seven

I have started to get letters from friends asking why they don’t see me anymore. I don’t know how to reply. I feel so alone it just seems sad trying to see people.

8:05 am- December 29- two thousand and seven

I got drunk last night. I can’t stop getting drunk, I can’t stop trying to get close to strangers I meet at parties. It’s easy, I don’t care if they think I’m sleazy or stupid or mean or ugly. Last night I tried to tell a girl about the secret pain and hate and joy I have. She just seemed confused, so we kissed and rolled around for a while, then she moved onto zac, her “real crush”. I layed in zac’s bed and thought about Claire. There’s always somebody to hurt in whatever you do. I wanna be good to her, but I am such a fuck up. This guy dan gave me ecstacy last night, it was bright pink and tasted like shit. I got a funny feeling from it though, I kept thinking about my “pyramid of death hate” with the rainbow hate laser and the skull.

It’s silent and calm here in my room. I can hear bugs and wind outside and it’s good here. I have my list of bands to review and listen too. I have been searching for them a lot. Found a few good ones this morning after I caught the train home from zac’s party. I thought I’d try and write Anwyn and Claire this morning, I miss Claire so much and I want to speak with Anwyn and see how she is. I didn’t speak to her closely at all while I was in sydney last time. My guts feel like evil knots. It scares me to write people I care about.

It’s a few hours later now, I still haven’t written anyone. What am I so afraid of?

A few hours later again, today Stanley and his kids are coming over. I am doing what I can to hold the hate down.

Lunch was alright, the boys are always funny and good to see. i wish I could see leyla tonight, it’s cool to be around her, I don’t have to say much if I don’t feel like it. I finally got the guts up to call her and ask her over, she didn’t pick up. Looks like another night alone. Might sit at the window and watch the light go out, it’s been a while since I did that and I miss it.

Later 10:03 pm. I did some drawing worked on my band list, played piano for a while and that felt good. I tried hard to make it really alive and full of movement. Tried to have different rythms. I could hear everybody out in the backyard sitting around jef as he played old songs on guitar. Made me feel lonely, stan’s still here drinking in the backyard. Puts me on edge, nobody I know can make me lose my temper like he can. I wish I had the strength to control my hate.

I read over some letters this girl I used to be with sent me. She admitted that she was trying to hurt me and that she was sorry. I didn’t respond to her last one. What am I supposed to say to that? I spend so much time trying to balance being honest and not taking any bullshit. Sometimes when you care it’s impossible to see the bullshit. Invisible shit. Until it’s so bad that all you can do is stand completely empty and used wondering why you ever try to be honest or why you ever came out of yourself and tried to care. You screw your face up hold all the hate down all of the pain and confusion and you walk away not even sure if you should leave, feeling like a wuss for not destroying them back. Feel like a monster cause you can’t hurt them like they hurt you. And that’s how they burn you, you see yourself in the mirror and your face looks older, your heart feels tired and you really are finally empty. I’m not happy being so alone all the time, but it’s the closest I can get, it’s the only way to keep myself.

At least I can learn something from all this pain. I learn to stay alone more and more.

4:00 am- December 30 – two thousand and seven

slept in tyler’s bed last night, he goes out a lot and I miss him so I sleep in his room when he’s gone usually. I had a dream about the x-men, I always dream about the x-men in tyler’s room cause it’s full of our old comics and big books on “the marvel world”.

I am listening to “always” it’s a good thing to wake up too. Leyla asked me what was wrong, said I seemed upset. I became frozen and cold immediately, the evil knot in my belly turned glowing death red and I wanted to hide in a cave, invisible to the human eye. Why can’t I talk to the people who are supposed to be my friends? When did I get this evil knot? How long before I can barely speak at all anymore? The only people I am good at seeing anymore are people I barely know, they don’t care if I’m lonely or full of sadness. They leave me alone with myself and I get to be who I want with them. “huckleberry” not grant. I heard leyla talking about this friend of hers who is using her as a crutch, he relies on her for friendship and company all the time, made me scared of calling her. I never call anyone unless I need them. I’ll be doing less of that anyway. I don’t want a crutch or a back up plan. I want to actually feel someone.

Chris called me, he is having a hard time, it sucks so bad to see life handing someone like Chris more shit, it’s a good reminder that you can always get another beating, no matter what you’ve done. I wish I could do something more to help him than stupid words.

The girl who hurt me wrote me more stuff. I told her to stop writing. I have nothing to say to her.

I can hear music coming out of the shed where les is still living, it sounds heroic and wild, it reminds of the crystal palace in fantasia before it gets destroyed. I wish I lived in fantasia.

Ive lost track of the days, I levitate through weeks and months, the only thing that reminds me of what time it is or day is when somebody calls me to make a plan. I cut my hair off today, it’s short and patchy again.

2:06 pm- December 31 – two thousand and seven

tyler went out again last night, slept in his bed again, I watched the sky clear out and get light at about 5 in the morning, I tried to focus and read “something wicked this way comes” by ray Bradbury, couldn’t focus at all, the light looked too good coming through my brother’s window. I thought about injun spirits with bright coloured powers and I thought about the woods in Nashville.

Leyla sent me a letter today, she seems angry and disappointed at me for not feeling close anymore. I don’t know what to say to her, I tried to explain myself but I probably fucked it all up, my letters always say the wrong things. I spend most of my life growing up in hospital where I was alone then I start to tour where I am alone and then they get angry at me for feeling alone. Leyla says I have lost my “shineyness” that really busted me up, cause I can see it too. Now listening to akron family and it’s the song me and leyla broke up to. This was probably 15 months ago now. Maybe more. Funny to think about how things have changed.

I drew all day today, tried to draw the injun spirits with bright powers and wolf’s head, but I don’t know if it does any real respect to the thoughts I had about it.

6:57 pm- January 2 – two thousand and eight

I haven’t written anything for some days now, a lot has happened. The other night I started drinking on the train and when I got off I went and explored on the tracks. I climbed little dirt mounds and treated them like craggy mountains. I finished what I had later at jess’ house and we all went out to a huge party in a public park, maybe two or three hundred people. I find somebody and I buy some acid, I give him half of what he asks. Later I found a piece of broken plastic with a handle on it and I grab the handle and take my shirt off and I hide behind my invincibility shield. Some creep is asking if he can kiss jess’ feet and I hate him so I start to push him trying to fight him and he just ruffles my hair and tells me I look like a gay harry potter. Somewhere around this time a girl grabs me and asks me if I want to see a video of her fucking wil anderson and I say yes so she shows me and it’s true, the video scares me so bad I let out running and climb some monkey bars, from here I can see everyone and I can control everything and suddenly I feel a great rumble and roar and thousands of bisons tear threw the crowd goreing and killing everyone and everybody is just ghosts for the rest of the night. The death hate pyramid is on the skyline for the next 7 hours.

I feel good that I started drawing and writing with intention and drive, the drawing and the writing was like the music, once I decided what I had to work with was good enough everything happened at once. I’m glad I found the guts, I can’t imagine doing anything else. If I’m gonna find a way to live like this I have to do everything I can.

I tried to talk to leyla tonight. When I open my mouth bullshit comes out, when I try and speak to people it’s all just worthless crap. I wish I could stop myself from speaking. Violent frustration. I tried to tell her something, just something, but I am starting to understand the kind of monster I’m becoming. I scare the hell out of myself. Being alone so much is pain, but it’s so pure. I am only my soul right now, nothing else matters. It’s so powerful to be alone. I have so much magic power when I am alone. I get loose like an onery beast and I am alone and beautiful in my alone-ness. Right now alone in my room where it’s dark and quiet and mine I feel close to a great spirit. And I have to wonder if it’s fake, I feel everything now. How can this be fake?

9:36 pm- January 3- two thousand and eight

a while ago i let out to the beach with jess and james for about a day and few. We stayed in jess’ sister’s house. It was only hours after the acid had started to calm down on me and I stood on the second floor of their house where everything was completely white and clean, the carpet was rough under my toes and instead of a wall they had a monster window and I looked out at the ocean and saw above it my death hate pyramid. I told jess and james about it and we all took deep breathes. I love them both more than I can figure out how to tell them. I act like a fool around james though cause I get so nervous, he has a way about him that makes me question my own self. That’s good and important. I need people in my life who make me see myself. Before we left on the second day we took to the beach and I started saying some dumb jabber about my death hate pyramid and how I wanted to paint and sell it for a billion dollars in a new york gallery and have kim Gordon blow me and jess turned at me and said “you just don’t have enough time to do everything.” And she seemed to mean that the way I thought. Made me sad and the whole beach seemed longer and lonely. I don’t want to die most of the time, I wish I could see it all now.

I spent all of today with tyler except a few hours making things alone. I love being a round him, even when we are bitching at eachother. He is my brother and I feel that easily, like there are two fireball’s inside of us (like in the middle of the world) and they both know eachother and don’t care what happens as long as we gravitate around eachother. It’s good to have that. I don’t have to say any shit around him. That’s something to care for.

I think me and leyla have had a falling out, I can’t tell. I guess we’ll see. Spirit of solitude. I am just trying to stand it and stay quiet. Better if I don’t run my mouth anymore unless I need too.

I thought about the california mountains today. A while ago a wonderful girl wrote me and told me I could come and stay as long as I pleased, when mom got sick I dropped out of the writing and I haven’t spoken to her since, but I go to them a lot in my head. They usually get filled with snow near the top and have many bearcub friends hiding around in them. Sometimes in my “visions” when I get to the top of the mountain it’s really a volcano.

1.05 am- January 5- two thousand and eight

let out to the park with zac tonight, shoeless in good heat. Felt pent up and stifled, like I had something strangling my heart and keeping me mean, so I got naked in the park and set off walking alone. Zac stayed laying on the ground and studying in the stars. It only took a couple of feet in the darkness until I felt really alone. I looked out at the heavy black monster trees and the inky old light and thought that it could be the whole of the world right now and I’d never know.

I wanna start recording things zac says, he says a lot of good shit but never keeps it. “I look at a piece of paper and it’s pure and well measured and white and un-scratched and somebody could use that to write something important and when I put down my ideas it’s just shit, all I see is shit. The paper is ruined to shit.”

3:41 a.m. January 7 – two thousand and eight

I started a “book of invincible awesomeness” tonight. If I make enough of these books I might be able to really make something cool. I stayed at zac’s house last night and listened to braddock’s stories and we went walking at about one in the morning for a few hours, zac has sensitive feet, so we didn’t get to explore the mud and gravel parts of Richmond. And he wouldn’t go near the river cause he was afraid of rats. There was an asian karaoke exploding on our way out, but when we came back it was quiet like a ghost building.

Since then I have been in one of those funny ways I get into where I am always half way dreaming and always halfway awake and I can see the death hate pyramid and the cartoon dogs and high mountains in the corners of my eyes all the time and I have eerie half dreams if I stay in the same position for too long. It’s always been like that for me except the things I see change. Laying on the couch earlier I dreamnt somebody tickled my toes, when I woke up it was eve standing and smiling at me, I go from one end of the couch to the other like a lightning bolt and grab her waist, I hold her with more strength than I can ever recall having and suddenly I’m alone again and it’s like she was a fog. I see this all the time, I become electrified and invincible for a few seconds and then I am back in my tired, dying body when I realise it was just a dream. I go back to the world and sit alone.

In the next few days I am supposed to put together some diaries from touring with simon. I hope I don’t fuck them up. Emma songdahl is going to print them in “woman's monthly”. I love emma.

It seems like time is tearing me apart. I think about death and the supernatural everyday, a billion times in a row and I scare myself into all this stupid work and solitude.

23rd or 24th or something january 4:21 am two thousand and eight

it’s been a bad night for me. Thought about my disease a lot, I keep waiting for the 17 heads and the fireball breath and the hate lasers so I can really get down and fight for my life, but it’s always some spooky scientific mystery and I can’t get my hands on it, I can’t kill it or become it, I just sit here and let it get me. Damn.

I lost a closeness, somebody I love has left me in a way, it’s made me harder inside again. I don’t know what to do. Everybody leaves and it looks like it won’t be long before I leave them for good too. I wanna find her and I want to show her that the way I love her is the greatest damn thing I could ever manage to hold on too, but I already tried that and all I could do was lose it and all she could do was leave. And it was fair. How could anyone stay with me? I’m a damned mess in every way. I’m making her tapes and pictures and little books. I just can’t turn away from her.

If I had any guts I’d kill myself right now. Beat my illness to it and forget all this waiting and pain. There isn’t much to hold onto, being alive is a mystery of horror and strangeness and unexplainable joy sometimes, but there is nothing to hold me here.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

it's been a while since i wrote here. i built myself a diary and i have been keeping it all in there. i am back in tasmania with simon james, i played the "6A, awesome venue, great art!" fundraiser. the microphone zapped my lips and it was because i was playing bare foot in the dirt so i quit it with the microphone and did what i could. i released my first ever e.p. on simon's label today and simon paid me a meal for the "rights" to the record. i'm still exploring all this writing crud, so i thought the new "diary" could help. maybe make me better at telling people stuff, actually explaining things.

andrew harper showed a "experimental film" it was a reel of 8mm film that he had kept in a jar of piss for a year. it looked funny the way it was shaped and people kept yelling cool things like: "fuck andrew go see a doctor!" and "shhhhh! i'm trying to watch the piss!" the first time i met andrew he was shouting at people as they played about how good the last song was compared to the last last song. and simon was trying to tell me to play with phil elverum when i went to america cause he knew phil and could set it up and andrew set into the whole "k records faggot crew". "calvin johnson, what a pants man! more cock than music! fuck calvin johnson!" and tonight i stopped him from beating somebody up and when i said goodbye to him and thanked him for the show he bellowed "jesus, your a bit of nancy faggot, but youve got some fuckin fire in ya! tryin to stop me! heh heh!" i love andrew harper.

after i played people where coming up to talk to me alot, but eventually i got to sink back on this wall and go invisible in the dark and listen and pretend i was alone with the big sky, that was good. emma told me she hates my records because it makes her realise there is a completely secret part of me she can never get a hold of. she said she gets alone in the bush out past everyone is tasmania and it's really nice to hear my voice but it reminds her there is stuff she doesn't know. i wasn't sure what to say, i never know what to say to that stuff.

ghost patrol and miso had their beautiful split exhibition with acorn. acorn mailed ahead these intricate pencil tracings of some work he had done and got ghostpatrol and miso to ink them in, really amazing pictures of fat men with cardigan knit beards and girls riding chinese dragon monsters and witches and kids in christmas sweaters. ghostpatrol and miso's work was beautiful as always, my favourite was a little elephant stuck in a tree trying to get his tiny kite back and a picture of miso with a big stained glass pattern growing out of her back. they hung big fake octopus monsters from the cielings and had like a hundred tags hanging of the monsters and the tags where blank and there where cups of pens so you could draw on them. i drew some doctor doom and diamond pictures. i got drunk outside and got into a "cardboard box but it's really a boat too" race with ollie and andre nickey and sarah. then they trapped me in a box and i drank a bunch of beers in it while they pulled my arms out of the holes and drew all over them. i got ollie and ty into the "fortress of secret-tude" exhibition me and simon are holding in my back yard once he moves in. sarah will be in it too. we are building a fort in my backyard and piunning pictures all over the insides and we are hiding pictures in the trees and if you have the guts to climb the tree and get them then you get to keep them, no cost. otherwise we will be asking for whatever we want to ask for the other prices.

i haven't been able to write people personally lately. this is ok, it feels like i am exploring known facts instead of trying to feel connected with somebody. people always cause me pain. it makes feel tired and hard and dead inside when people i love tell me how they where hurt and it bores me and bothers me when people burn me and expect me to forget about it. i saw on the news bout a ten year old girl who was gang raped somewhere in queensland and the judge let the rapists off with 12 months probation, no jail time. it made me feel a billion years old. makes me wonder when everything will end and i can let it all go and forget about it. on the same night i saw a show about the genocides in darfur, a skinny black man was on the television saying the sudanese killed his wife and kids and they hate him, they want him to hate like they do, they want them to wish anger and death upon others, but he is strong because he will not, he is strong because he forgives them and wants only for it all too stop. i don't know what these things mean, but they are connected and related. they equal something and i don't know what it means, but i am scared and nervous about it.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

it's about one in the morning, simon and i just finished the first brisbane show. we got all messed up on cask wine, vodka and whiskey, we have been that way for about 8 days now, i'm not sure why we are drinking so hard, but it's all working more or less. tonight simon was made to stop early, it's such a damn shame people don't get it or whatever. i know it's beautiful. shirtless and covered in bad wine i drummed my damn face off for girl mountain. i'll do it again until the end of everything.

simon is set to come and live with me, we are getting matching desks and we are going to make "science fiction monster comics" together and do alot of recording. we did a bunch of releasing stuff recently, we were drunk like morons in the labour party office using the free photocopy powers. we made a lyric and silly drawing split book.

now, writing a rough diary entry in front of you, thinking about a girl in tasmania. i was walking back to our house for the evening, holding her warm hand, looking at the grown up mountains and old logs and the way the sun was beginning to peek a bit over everything and i realized my luck of life ive lived and life i could have. some people still want to kill themselves, it comes and goes for me, but i am mostly greatful for everything. for all of it. the opening of mysterious ancient powers to keep me alive somehow.

tonight met three people, late to see me and here to see mostly me, so we took it to the front porch and i gave them some gifts for their effort and played some songs, in the end the boy of the three told me it was this diary here that inspired him to write again. mission accomplished (big muscle arms and pride to hard to explain). that's why i do this. i hope if you read this you live like your already dead. figure it out, you can't fear death, you can't prove life. all other things are silly, everything. from abortion to he-man, silly silly. live in a goofy silly flash, cause it's probably the best you'll get.

the girl who i have written of before, one of the girl's from the three, she said it was so touching when i did write about her, it was hard to keep down how good it all felt, i meant to stand with alot of reason and control, but i ended up screwing up my face and hugging all of them. my dumb ass lyrics and ideas made it through to somebody. that's all that matters.

send me hate mail, beat me up, ruin my shows, it's cool. i already accomplished enough.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

i started to drink again, mom's got the illness, my tour looks cancelled and all kinds of regular bad emotions are coming and going on me. me and shaun and ty and some other kids went down to where the penguins roost by the saint kilda shore line, i had a nine dollar bottle of wine and i would take a sip and wince and the rotten fumes and the smell of it.

goddamn! i thought, this is going to cook my heart and turn me into a skeletor monster!

penguins are shiny animals, they came out from the rocks, they live in the cracks of the rocks the way i understand it, and they shined their white little bellies at us, you could tell they felt proud of them and i looked off at the bellies while we all talked silly dumb stuff. the penguin is a bird that swims, that is the kind of weirdness that only natural evolution would have the guts to try. i tried hard to drink my wine and i thought about natures guts.

rats where beginning to swim up on the dirt shore near us and i suddenly new that it was time to leave. rats always come before trouble. so we took back up towards the lights. lights around the bars, lights on the highway and they looked more like they were trying to fly away than light us up.

meanwhile i discovered that i didn't have much of a choice but to try and drink all my wine in one terrible pull, i put the bottle up and took alot of it on, but it got me in the end and i was bent over on the edge of the big wooden sea peir puking my guts out.

we crossed the street after i cleaned up and i saw a big horrible moving beast with alot of faces and hands, we where going right for it, with no real choice about it. i got into the people and the drinks. i started to steal beers and pizzas from drunks.
i met a hard up drunk in the bathrooms who stopped and asked with a scary lack of control "DO I LOOK DRUNK!?" "YES!" i screamed back, trying to look big and scare him too, then he said "YOU LOOK GOOD! YOU LOOK FAMOUS! LIKE THAT WEEZER GUY! WHO ARE YOU?" "I AM IMPORTANT, THAT'S A SURE THING, MY FLIGHT LEAVES FOR BEIRUT TOMORROW, WE HAVE 70 SHOWS IN 72 DAYS ALL OVER PARTS OF THE WORLD MOST PEOPLE DISMISS AS MYTHS, IF YOU BUY ME A BEER I WILL INTRODUCE YOU TOO MY BAND AND MY DRUG DEALER FRIENDS, THEY HAVE AMAZING WARMTH." i followed this man up the stairs and half way there my stomach shot through with a black hole of some kind. something was beginning to get to me, the kind of thing you keep to yourself because the pain is so heavy and rare that it would burn in a hole in people you thought you where close to. everything about the last few hours of the night was sad and hard and cold. i had "inside alone-ness" and "secret solitude".

i met a black german hip hop dancer who was trying to change the way we see movement and a skinny middle aged italian woman who designed clothes for rich men someplace in venice, i spoke to them and the black hole got bigger, i hid my face for a while in the bathrooms, i was drunk and out of my mind with a pain i couldn't understand. in a certain kind of light everyone becomes like werewolfs and swamp monsters, i could see the fangs and fur everywhere i looked.

i spoke loudly with alot of laughter all night, the laughter was fear and nerves caught up in my belly. i could see around me plain reasons for wanting to be alone, even in my lowest old sadness wanting to be alone was a mystery. but it came to me naturally all night, it came with the black hole and skinned me all over. i'm used to this feeling, i live with it and i don't know why. everytime it feels new but it's as old as hell. i can remember it from when i was a kid. i treat it like new, my pain and confusion needs to feel new and horrifying everytime, i can't lose that, it's too important. all of my best moves are made in pain and confusion. smooshed like a bastard between alone-ness and sadness and mystery i can see one thing for sure. like dare devil who lost his sight, but learned how to kill villians. it's a trade.

me and shaun started to hit on a jock on crack. we would squeeze his butt and he would spin like a mean bull fighter, but when he saw us he would split up in a smile and shuffle a little and put his arms around us. the night was emptying out now and the bouncers where getting violent, me and shaun led our man to the bar and he screamed: " SHOTS AND THEN BEER!" and threw bills at us, we grabbed what we could, hugged him and left like lightning bolts. into the car, into the house, into the bed, into the dream.

awake at six thirty in the morning at lauren's house, i drank a fat cold glass of pop and spoke with a beautiful pale girl named kaz, i wondered where her name came from but i had no time left to ask before i was into the bed and staring out a second story window into the early morning sky. i fell into a dream about being a dinosaur king, lonely and full of good leadership, i was in charge of the whole prehistoric desert, my name was "ODB: a Tribute" like a plastic dinosaur i carry with me from time to time.

i hope somebody knows the answer to these things, i hope the super powers that patrol the sky can see inside the bigger beasts and fools and lonely kids and say with a sureness "i know, i know, i know." because i can't see a damn thing here, i traded my eyes for better powers.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

i can't speak to anyone tonight. i tried, i felt prehistoric and alone. i should be alone, i want solitude, i don't know what to say about other people. they come and go like thunderbolts and burn everything.

i dont feel like telling anybody anything.

Monday, October 15, 2007

i used to try and write more for words than meaning. both are dumb ideas and now i just write. take out the things you hate and keep moving, always move. standard is for people who slow down long enough to recognise it.

i am creating my own museum, i hate everybodies big history so much i'm going to make my own.

mean cobra museum of curious ideas.

the night is on again and it's time to start standing it, the beasts and bastards get up and they come looking for us, so goodnight and i'll see you when the light breaks, if theres any of you left.