tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71994101284296070132024-03-09T05:49:48.111+11:00one hundred flashlights in a closet, turned on"i do not think that there are any limits to how excellent we could make life seem." - kim
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"I wish there was an empty building for all of us where we could make ourselves better, where the birds flew in and out of the rafters. And I wish that sometimes we could quiet the electricity in our heads."hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-53770627172552799642011-02-16T20:08:00.001+11:002011-02-16T20:09:23.048+11:00old mirrorsthis is an old old blog, but i will keep it here and let anybody they like read it.<br /><br />xo - grant.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-67828477133383214922008-02-11T22:48:00.001+11:002008-02-11T22:50:34.950+11:00a 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:<br /><br />5:27 am- December 27- two thousand and seven<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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?<br /><br />1:07 pm- December 28- two thousand and seven<br /><br />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.<br /><br />8:05 am- December 29- two thousand and seven<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />It’s a few hours later now, I still haven’t written anyone. What am I so afraid of? <br /><br />A few hours later again, today Stanley and his kids are coming over. I am doing what I can to hold the hate down. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />At least I can learn something from all this pain. I learn to stay alone more and more.<br /><br />4:00 am- December 30 – two thousand and seven<br /><br />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”. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />The girl who hurt me wrote me more stuff. I told her to stop writing. I have nothing to say to her. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />2:06 pm- December 31 – two thousand and seven<br /> <br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />6:57 pm- January 2 – two thousand and eight<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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?<br /><br />9:36 pm- January 3- two thousand and eight<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br /> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />1.05 am- January 5- two thousand and eight<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.” <br /><br />3:41 a.m. January 7 – two thousand and eight<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />23rd or 24th or something january 4:21 am two thousand and eight<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-84630713055570406792007-12-15T00:46:00.000+11:002007-12-15T01:28:24.601+11:00it'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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-86273873514080048222007-11-24T01:54:00.000+11:002007-11-24T02:12:04.014+11:00it'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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />send me hate mail, beat me up, ruin my shows, it's cool. i already accomplished enough.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-44089366710143350192007-11-11T08:44:00.000+11:002007-11-11T09:57:17.615+11:00i 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. <br /><br />goddamn! i thought, this is going to cook my heart and turn me into a skeletor monster! <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br />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".<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-58048223050023642932007-10-17T23:04:00.000+10:002007-10-17T23:08:31.400+10:00i 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. <br /><br />i dont feel like telling anybody anything.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-80540678167721572562007-10-15T19:27:00.000+10:002007-10-15T19:37:36.091+10:00i 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. <br /><br />i am creating my own museum, i hate everybodies big history so much i'm going to make my own. <br /><br />mean cobra museum of curious ideas.<br /><br />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.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-23327075278097294972007-10-10T20:19:00.000+10:002007-10-10T20:27:40.402+10:00my head is on fire, the rest of the world is very calm, i hate this tonight, i hate the sad world and what it has done to my small heart. don't answer the phone, don't watch tv, don't trust anybody, learn to live alone and away from everyone and you'll be ok, you'll make it through. through to what? there is no meaning, i'll stay here as long as i can, when i really lose my hold on being alive, i'll let go for good and i won't feel bad or look back at it and think sadly "godamn", when i do it right, i won't say anything. there won't be anything to say, and i will screw up my face in a silly way and i will be so glad to see it all go, so glad to end all of this caring for dumb stuff, be glad to finally let go of this strange hold i have on life.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-52254120605753562302007-09-24T17:16:00.000+10:002007-09-24T17:18:39.356+10:00this is a review i did for my friend richard's music blog, i love richard, one time betony drew a skull on his arm while me and chris ate the rest of their delicious expensive breakfasts.<br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />I met Grant Jonathon Gronewold in Sydney after he'd been travelling for at least 15 hours in a car with two other pals of mine. He'd consumed and indescribable amount of Coca Cola and was delirious from lack of sleep but he still lit up my living room with his excitable stories, bursting with childlike fervor, telling me about things that I hadn't heard but probably should have. Grant makes music under the name Fulton Girls Club. He also had two of the best ideas I've ever heard, but I can't tell you about them. This is the first of three posts about a few of his favourite songs, at the moment at least.<br /><br />"Shoot my television walk out doors and explore with the innocence of kids aged four" - Edan<br /><br />The song starts with a psyche jumble crash sound, like a mix of peddles and old samples and then from someplace mysterious and shadowy there is the "hey joe" bassline, this is the main rhythm keeper throughout the first sequence of the song. under Edan's vocals is a sweet vinyl crackle (snap and pop!) controlling and distorting them are delay and reverb, after the first three word cycles it all melts down slowly with a science fiction sounds flavour (out of the lab and the spaceshuttle and the forests of Shoalin and the dungeon of a mad genius in a rainbow coloured lab coat) and the sound moves in stealthy with a reverse drum beat, a slow build, rewinding a video tape, then DROP! Mr Lif hits it with hard horror images and in the background a crash pop bomb from the 60's (I hope, who can tell from time with all this wonderful chaos going on?), reverse the tape, play straight, keep it moving, Lif, don't touch that, the image is building and like Edan said earlier, it stretches like oxygen and infinity, I close my eyes and see a great kaleidescope vision, constellations, deep quantum theory, eerie calico colour schemes shoot out like laser beams and if you look quick! there is a shadow, like in the Wizard of Oz, and behind all the smoke and colours and mathematics we see the form of a skinny dude and wild hair-do, hands held out in front making complex incomprehensible movements, tying together theories and pictures with a funny concentration, the string is where the genius is though, Edan has a type of impossible string that can tie anything together, these ideas aren't new, these sounds aren't even new, but with Edan and his magnificent string, everything seems re-arranged in a new kind of vision, a new kind of cool. for the Saturday morning kid still yawning shaking off the dreams somebody is gonna try and tell him are stupid later in his life, the dreams about mad science and cartoons and infinity and doing something cause you think it's cool and not because somebody told you too, I wanna thank Edan and his "intense imagination" and his magnificent string.<br /><br />"When God took a day off I had him laid off" - Mr. Lifhyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-66216982284653558752007-09-16T20:03:00.000+10:002007-09-16T20:06:55.447+10:00i made a girl who liked me leave me alone, so now i'm alone again. too sick for all of that closeness with somebody. i don't feel a part of anything tonight. i'm alone in the universe even if other people are thinking about me, and even if i think of them.<br /><br />i worked on making this into a book tonight, i like the way it's looking, i am handwriting it, my hands are funny tools i think.<br /><br />so little to tell everyone and i can't figure out how to do it anyways. music seems to be failing me in alot of big ways, after the big tour i might quit, but i have to go back and learn.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-51083079438234992152007-09-13T02:20:00.000+10:002007-09-13T02:25:07.943+10:00i saw my own self walking around at night and the sky looked like a picture someone had taken of ink and hung it over my head and i was connecting things, drawing thin cotton lines from one to another, making up constellations with powerlines and television ariels and black holes and small pockets of eternity. <br /><br />we can all be funny little gods like in greek stories if we get away from eachother and go into the night, and if you see me while you are making up the diagrams for your own universe, pretend that you didn't and somehow, beautifully, or ideas will smoosh into one and create a galaxy that is always in a kind of flux and flow.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-60285353014379250962007-08-21T16:52:00.000+10:002007-09-02T19:51:27.960+10:00living quietly in the universe, changing little and being little and seeming invisible. <br /><br />i remember big silos across the armington sky's eye, cornfields and frightened wooden fences on both sides of us, as we drove down and down, end up in a old basement with cardboard posters of judy garland, naked lightbubs that looked damn fine, like trapped lightning, the whole room covered in a funny kind of thunder. i remember sue with us, mom's skinny friend, she had some kind of cancer and a tall husband. when she smiled she looked like a happy skeleton. <br /><br />later in other memories i remember a short boy with a shaved head who talked all the time and would always ask me if i was a mute or something and his house was covered in stinky clothes and broken stuff, his mom would spend hours colouring in spider man colouring books and singing along to these old records with songs like "love potion number nine" and "midnight train to georgia" and their house was a ugly style of white living in front of a big long old field that had a tiny forest between it, and the kid with no hair was building weapon's in the woods and killing little things with it, rats and stuff, we chased rats around with a hammer sometimes and played jokes on his sister, then one day during a black out we found him in his sisters bed, naked and kissing her, his dad beat him up and i don't remember going back after that. his mom used to get her hair done at some fancy house in the suburbs and the colour of the house was the colour of the birthday cake at the supermarket.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-30428717370407557032007-08-14T23:10:00.000+10:002007-08-29T16:33:20.832+10:00my mom needs some kind of operation and there gonna take parts out of her. i follow her around alot and sit in rooms with her and ride in cars with her and i mostly stay quiet, it's better that i don't say how i feel, it'd only make me embarrased and she might cry or something rotten like that. she's real nostalgic and nervous all the time, she tells me stories about arizona and other kids from arizona and lincoln, illinois. she tells me she loves me alot and her stomach hurts all the time.<br /><br />two cornfields across from lincoln dairy queen, the state fair always happened, i don't remember dates or nothin, on the way i would bend over and see burned up worms, they get hot and stuck to the gravel and then they bloat up and pop. the dust at the fair made me cough alot and i used to steal things from the smaller kids around and watch the pigs get weighed and listen to them cough and grunt and squeal. they had one hundred foot slides and all kinds of candy and people giving away religious books. you could hear megaphones everywhere and i really liked all that screaming, i used to just walk around yelling and nobody could hear me because of all the megaphones.<br /><br />i kissed my first girl when i was six, she was named tiara and she had nice clothes and brown skin. <br /><br />jessie's older brother taught me how to say "suck my cock" in spanish and he would kill kittens and birds with a shovel all the time for fun. he used to smoosh a kitten and say fun fun fun, he said he learnt it from his dad. jessie's parents where junkies and all there ever was to eat at jessie's house was cornflakes. i remember going to his house all the time and it looked like a haunted house and smelt like trash and they were always watching the same superman movie, his parents i mean, they slept on the fold out couch and watched superman all the time. i thought they were dead once, but they moved. jessie's older brother taught us how to steal and break into houses and get into cars and let the brakes off. <br /><br />sometimes i would hide in the weird alleyway behind our house all night because i thought the cops were looking for me and i would do drawings and hide them under a tree and practice writing letters to my mom about how i was innocent and the cops where liars. <br /><br />i have been thinking alot about outer-space, my favourite thing to do is to cast my eyes at the clouds, cause at night they are a different kind of black, i like that because i didn't think black could be different from black. <br /><br />i have alot of eerie old stories to tell and all, but how do i do it is the hitch. i hope that this is like a movie, really big and bright, like an arcade game or when you look at a lightbulb real hard and then close your eyes and it doesn't go away and it hurts your head.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-91005419373071225092007-08-13T14:57:00.000+10:002007-08-13T15:12:14.904+10:00my fear about death and god and people makes me think strong, lonely thoughts. i feel brave walking around in the dark when nobody is there. becoming less involved, attached, moving around the universe like a phantom or a silly ghost, a dumb kid in an ugly black chasm finally making it. making it to solitude and disconnection through movement. yeah, some kind of dream. some people write me and say they miss me, some strangers send me mail telling me i'm brave and beautiful and smart, some people hate me and make sure i know it, but when i climb out my window and look up at oblivion with all it's stars and planets and greek gods and modern myths, it all leaves me. and then once it's gone, like magic, ideas are everywhere, and they all belong to me, and i'm alone with them. no big dirty people, no stupid maps, you don't need a map when your making the world up right in front of you.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-27945727711873761812007-08-12T17:14:00.000+10:002007-08-12T17:26:49.202+10:00we moved around lincoln alot, i have memories of sleeping in cars and waking up under powerlines with lightning bolts moving around my head and barry taught me how to piss offa the roof at night when mom was asleep, i would climb out my window and piss a hundred feet down into the dirt, but i called it "pissing on hell" and then i'd howl like a coyote and crawl back through into my bed with the ninja turtle sheets. and i used to give my pancakes to the neighbourkid across the way, past the bushes where dustclouds always seemed to kick up and he would eat the pancakes even with the dirt in the syrup and later he got cancer or his mom did, but they were gone either way. when i remember him now in my mind he seems like a boy made out of dirt and wax and fly paper and made some twine, very un-permanent and ready to die.<br /><br />some nights i would take alla my clothes outta the dresser and pile them on myself laying down cause i liked the weight on me, like when night came down it came down on me really and sometimes i would empty out my pillow case and go and steal the tin foil bases of these tiny white candles mom baught for 10 cents a peice and i would go and bury them out in the back yard which was mostly dirt and i'd draw complex maps, including ideas and instructions of what to do with them, the ideas always ended with running away to join the peoria freak circus, except there wasn't a freak circus in peoria, there wasn't anything in peoria, except tired, ugly dogs and old men and gymnasts and factories. except i bet there wasn't that either but that's how i remember it is all.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-46730976174128888992007-08-10T00:22:00.000+10:002007-08-10T00:48:43.415+10:00the snow was getting to where it looked like a water damaged picture of snow, white in the middle and bleeding out into everything else, and my voice starting hanging around in the air like it was part of the wether and i walked past all kinds of brick buildings and play grounds and highways and bars and alleys and hookers and drunks and christians and junkies and all. i snuck into a house and most of the windows where black completely and in one room there was highchairs and cribs, some of them real broken, all piled up in the middle of the floor, the walls where stained and peeling and black and grey and brown and mis-shaped. i stayed in there all day writing cuss words on the walls and crawling through the cabinets. there was alot of dust and grit and when i got home i had to wash my hands.<br /><br />and then days later, maybe months, i never knew much about time, i was at paul's house and we pretended to assasinate his dad through the window in his back yard and then we climbed the side of his house and jerked open his bedroom window to read comics on the roof and assasinate people who walked by. and paul told me all kinds of stories about his older brother and how he could beat up an ox. and we went to his mom's house sometime later and stole half of her disney land money from a giant plastic pig she was keeping it in, and we bought alot of gum in a brown paper sack and chewed it like animals in his moms basement after we snuck in through the small window that was foggy and not clear to see out of and we listened to his brother's rap records and called our teaches bitches and faggots and motherfuckers and cocksuckers and assholes and we hid the rest of the gum under the heater to keep it away from his dumb family and went back a few days later to find it had melted from the heat.<br /><br />in lincoln, illinois all the grown ups seemed to be drunks and when i remember them now they all seem like film characters or something, but sad and empty, easy to kill somehow.<br /><br />a time later when i was re-arranging my room, putting books in piles according to colour, i decided that i would just pack up all the stuff i had and go and sleep in the forest with the cobras and the deer and the bear cubs and the wolves and the ox and just cut out a living as an animal too, killing fish and growing fur, but nothing ever came of it, i couldn't get out the door before i got caught by my aunt eedie, who had diabeties and was real loud and hoarse in her throat, she sounded like a hollywood banshee when she would get to hollerin at me about something like running away.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-78750166756328869532007-08-09T21:57:00.000+10:002007-08-09T22:21:12.627+10:00a persons ideas about time can make things seem short and sour, that's how it seems when i look back at all the howling and stomping and quiet and waiting and the illness and bad luck. god's dumb voodoo didn't work and in the end it all happened at once, everything just happened and now i am here, left alone in a room to think about the smog over new orleans and the magical properties of a rooster's claw and the mud by a riverbank where i caught a turtle. any of it, all of it. i wasn't born into feeling alone, but i learnt it quick enough. <br /><br />me and the christian kids from next door made a fortress behind my grandmas house, i took comic books back there and used to tell the christian kids that i didn't need god cause i would bea the devil up if he ever came here and we had a neighbour with a dirt back yard and bastard dog who bit anybody it wanted and i used to make sport of jumping over the fence kicking it while it was asleep and then getting back over before i lost my ass to it. and her mom was fat and had alot of ugly boyfriends one used to be on her couch watching jerry springer all the time and she took me into this room of her house where they had a nintendo and the walls where piled up the sides with dirty clothes and porn magazines and trash all over and one time me and my cousin josh stood on top of grandmas car and yelled out that she had big fat titties and she went inside and then one of her mom's boyfriends came out after us, fat and stomping and shoutin so we let out into the corn field and threw things at him cause he was too fat to catch us.<br /><br />it's a goddamned punch in the belly when somebody asks me simple questions these days, i gotta get outta here, i'm angry all the time.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-72218743932544124582007-08-08T21:21:00.000+10:002007-08-08T22:10:54.956+10:00staying still to watch things come and go, turn out the lights cause it's easier to invent things, shadows are only new animals that you haven't named yet, solitude is beautiful and so big and so lonely and lit up, but only lit up a little bit, even when someone comes to hold your hand and get nervous with you, it's hard. <br /><br />walking around my back yard, thinking about the dirt and the big eternities at either end of my life and a girl i have a crush on, the other day alex made me smile and giggle because he made like he was trying to grab hold of the sky or claw it down over the steering wheel. what the hell am i supposed to do about all these ideas? is it right that i should feel rotten as hell if i can't explain it? these little thoughts, memories, these things that could happen anwywhere and do happen everywhere, they aren't special, words only bust them up, they make the hard stuff romantic, they make the sad stuff seem funny as hell or profound. it's the smallest parts of being alive that pull me apart, just when i am alone, ready to be alone and i think it is time to stop thinking about other people, it comes to pass that somebody likes me and they wanna spend nights with me sneaking around and laying low and writing in empty houses. <br /><br />damn, i bet everyone you could name has sat alone in a room and wisht to think of nothing, wisht to want nothing, wisht to be nothing for hours or years only to get up and leave the house and realise that they were still something, to walk into a door and have people turn and look at him there, existing, standing there in perfect being, not see-thru, not made up and not nothing at all. this happens to me all the time and i am defined by the fact that i let myself be when i find out i still am. that's all it is that makes me who i am, the fact that i haven't stopped being him yet. <br /><br />i can't wait until i am in a new country, alone, riding buses for a place to sleep, with nothing to lose, laughing at old thoughts of fireworks claustrophobically exploding in my dreams.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-9444387503198226622007-08-05T15:59:00.000+10:002007-08-05T17:05:46.908+10:00mom's sick, she's knows me, she knows i'm quiet when i'm hurt. i don't mind her dying, she has lived and seen things, but she's scared and i can tell and this hurts me. she's such a strong woman, she'll probably scare death off anyway.<br /><br />whatever kind of horror there was i always learnt to live in front of it and i think i got that from my mother and mostly having no choice anyway.<br /><br />short segments of my past come to me as if i lived in the desert, i think of this time and all things seem to be worn down and pale, like pictures of the parts of my life that i wore out. the sky and the mountains and the dust and the people in cheap clothes all look like postcards of themselves. this could have been anyones life. the strangers in supermarkets look like dressed up dinosaurs, howling and eating stupidly, like violent jerks, so sad and beat up. there are little plants everywhere, growing out of the desert, but they all die eventually. there are coke machines and candy bar wrappers and statues about history.<br /><br />i remember parts of hospital, watery colours and my body was always hot and you learn to live waiting around for someone to tell you how you can live. people i didn't even like gave me toys and came to see me, but it's always felt private, alone in the company of many. other people have nothing to do with what i remember about hospital and nothing has changed, i rememer visits from months ago, trying not to fall asleep, trying to stay quiet all day to have the energy to see somebody, being quiet, being alone around other people again. watch the light ebb and flow around, fragment itself, get smaller and eventually go out, then do it again in a few hours. get quiet because i'm hurt. don't move, don't speak, sit and watch the light go out, have ideas, but don't write them down, just have them for as long as you can.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-91871007285862661632007-08-04T00:41:00.000+10:002007-08-04T20:59:30.773+10:00the things that gave me purpose and reason seem stupid. i'm alone and cold, all day i sat in an empty bath tub trying to read, but i kept falling asleep and the words seemed harder to read everytime i woke up. something about my bathtub makes me focus, but i felt so alone it was hard to think about other ideas.<br /><br />it's all i can do to try and only exist sometimes.<br /><br />indra told me a story about this house she lived in and the man who lived there before them fashioned opals and jewelry and all, but he killed himself and there was this box full of un-shaped jewels left in the house, but her parents or her grandmother, i can't say which, threw them out into the dirt and she used to dig them up all the time when she was younger. and i repeated in my head for a couple of blocks while we walked together "dust and diamonds." even though she told me they weren't diamonds, the way somebody remembers something is important, even if you just started remembering it.<br /><br />i go for walks at night now, i make fog with my own breath and i pretend that i am the only one who ever got born sometimes, it's lonely, but only if i can't trick myself into thinking i'm the only person alive. <br /><br />eternity is not knowing about time and not wanting to know.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-44160470527897168262007-07-31T21:04:00.000+10:002007-08-02T00:03:15.971+10:00two nights ago i walked all over, the world was being real eerie and since the moon was looking the way it was it was obvious that i had luck and all, so i snuck into this old dirt plot and burnt down building, just slipped through the fence and kicked the dirt around and made up names for the shapes the big black debris cast. i'm buying a flashlight and going looking more.<br /><br />all day today i had the notion to let out and go hitchhiking, i thought about the stars obscured by new clouds and the trees to climb and the crushes to start and leave and thumbing through other peoples books, picking things out, like David W. walking around with a meat cleaver trying to rob folks and Charles Bukowski in a rain storm cursing big gods and all. if god is everywhere and everything then i am god and i am everywhere and everything, i never felt like i had met anybody new.<br /><br />the first house i broke into had these piles of damp clothes in the basment, and we threw the silverware down the stairs and pissed on everything and stabbed the mattresses with knifes and kicked holes in the walls and used a hammer to break the toilet and then went running off into another night someplace, but the house stayed there.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-53356082329022814122007-07-29T14:29:00.001+10:002007-07-29T14:40:25.120+10:00i have been fixing to make a film. i wanna take a camera with me the next time i get hospitalized is all and then i can really show somebody how when they line the wheel chairs up against the wall at night that they really do look like horses in the stable, animals at rest. the wall is baby blue and scuffed up and it happens to backdrop alot of my dreams.<br /><br />i haven't been able to imagine much but bisons in my dreams lately, a herd of them get spooked and make these monstrous dirt clouds and charge over cliffs, but you never see where they go after that. not in my dreams anyways, maybe somebody elses.<br /><br />this is it for a while, i am ignoring the phone and trying to sleep in, i am stuck here. 27 days left until i can leave melbourne, maybe less if i get lucky. i try to sit in the middle of my room and listen for a few hours a day, i can feel my body giving out on me, i can feel time moving around me and away, right there in the middle of my room, in the small light that comes through my windows. i never wanted to get old anyways.<br /><br />a new record soon, with drums on this one, noah is going to help me record and we'll do it on tam's kit. the songs are all still short but i only ever need what i already have anyways.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-7831873886011006102007-07-28T22:54:00.000+10:002007-07-28T23:30:29.190+10:00i layed down on my trampoline for a while tonight, i wrinkled my toes around the air and tried to connect the dots with the stars, but it's hard for me to do nothing, the hardest thing to do is just to exist. movement is all i have figured out, i can even really talk to people, i only figured out how to move yet. <br /><br />i met indra today, and i won't pretend to myself that i didn't have a crush on her, she has been so kind to me and she's really very beautiful, but i couldn't talk to her, she made me feel silly, so i drank some coke and rolled around on the floor in front of the bands, and when it was my turn i played with a kick drum and got noah and tam to play drum sticks on the floor and i got everybody else to clap hands and i sang a song by alps. i played some new short songs, really short, maybe i have been listening to too much minutemen, but it felt good. "the only thing left to do when a bird stops singing is to ask: what do we do with the end of things?"<br /><br />i started reading huckleberry finn, it reminds me of dirt and marbles alot. <br /><br />the other night at four in the morning, i couldn't sit still, but i am so sick, i wanted to go out with a bag and hitch hike, maybe turn up on emmy's door or betony's yard, but not right away, after months of sleeping next to the highway, after being able to shake my hair and create terrible dust clouds, but the world will only welcome me for so long, if i keep moving will death get me?hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-63021058054729207532007-07-27T15:25:00.000+10:002007-07-27T15:39:31.048+10:00christmas presents for disadvantaged kids in lincoln illinois, they gave us fifty bucks and let us pick something in walmart, mom handed me over to the charity worker, i liked his face, he had a beard. i ran around walmart and the colours and lights gave me a headache. i got a batmobile and alot of candy, then grandma took me to cody's house, he lived four blocks away from my grandma's house, his mom sat around laughing and getting drunk on a drink she called the white russian and she scared the hell out of me, her hair stuck out and she always smoked and her teeth looked like broken wood. and cody used to draw shit on his arms and legs, like skulls and swords and cuss words and try and convince everybody he got his dad to give him a tattoo, but he was really afraid of his dad, we used to stay in his room all night after his dad got home and try not to make any noise, in case he got angry.<br /><br />further up the street from cody the concrete began to crack and a large peice of plain mud yard spread out behind one of the worst houses in the whole town, there was trash all over the porch and front yard and a big black car always parked in the drive way except at night. the kids who lived in that house got caught in school pissing in everybodies book bags and they were thrown out. and there was this girl who lived farther up in a two story house, it looked really nice from the outside, but two story houses impressed me when i was a kid, the girl had a tumor and stopped coming to class but before she did she started turning up with a bandage on her head that had a weird orange stain on it sometimes and she started to tell everybody her name again, even though we all knew her, so they made her go home and i don't remember seeing her again.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7199410128429607013.post-8238558476936016982007-07-26T23:00:00.000+10:002007-07-27T00:01:47.335+10:00i'm so damn beat tonight, sat on the edge of my bed when i woke up and hung my head, i just couldn't keep it up. i got a letter from a girl in another state, said she cried when she read all this and wished i'd stayed to do my shows in brisbane, she's offered me a place to stay when i do come and told me i have to keep going for music's sake. i wisht i were kinder, had more to say to people, something. <br /><br />the world can seem to be such a big , dumb, lonely animal sometimes. everybody i know is apart and alone and terrified at the same time in the same place. goddamn.<br /><br />i remember a flood in our town, me and my brother road old mattresses and trash cans down the street with the current and there were scared cats and peoples mail all over the place, some kid had climb a tree and was throwing rocks at everything and cussing at everything. me and my brother were screaming like bastards and having so much fun that we cut our feet up real bad and didn't even know it, we went home after and tried not to step on any splinters in the front porch and mom made us sit in the tub while she scrubbed or toes and feet with soap and whiskey cause she was afraid we would get aids or lockjaw or something. tyler was so young i don't think he remembers. <br /><br />theres thunder outside, the big black sky always knows how to show you that your so goddamned silly everytime. grace costello used to tell me she liked it when i wrote cause she was sure my letters to her would get printed one day, she started writing me in hospital and i think i was in love with here for a while, i still feel like i am when i see her, i'm just lonely and she's nice to me, theres no good in making it seem like more than that. <br /><br />i drew a picture of a man wearing his beard for a dress on a peice of cardboard and slid it into this old frame, zac came over later and laughed at it and told me he liked it, it's about all i do that he likes. we drew a whole bunch of stupid shit in regan's building where he works, zac wrote "hoek + scout: these punks'll buy ANYTHING!" next to one of my drawings, i used to wanna be called scout if i were going to be a graffitti artist, but all i do is dumb pictures of weird things, i'm not dedicated to it so i don't wanna do it much at all. i drew a picture of a kid with diamonds for eyes and wrote next to him "everything looks expensive 'cause i got diamonds for eyes." i wanted to be called scout because to kill a mockingbird is such a good book and scout is the only one who sees it for what it really is in the end.<br /><br />i'm gonna do a string of art shows in houses soon, i think we need to do that, i wonder how many good kids are making art and not showing it because they are afraid of even small galleries or the galleries are full. maybe just me. <br /><br />i'm listening to ornette coleman, he won't go anywhere, me and ornette.hyper color samuraishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02115634628866523134noreply@blogger.com1