I am naked love that defies any reality

Cool Beans

Fri, 11 Mar 2005 22:06:53 GMT

Does anyone out there in cyberspace know who the "Enigma" is? I was in Al's newstand buying some smokes when this body art celebrity and his girlfriend walk in. For those of you who don't know, The Enigma is covered from head to toe in tatoos that look like blue puzzle pieces. He also has horn implants in his forehead. His girlfriend is also a bit famous in her own right. She has cat stripe tatoos all over her body, and whisker implants. They have been on ALOT of television, mostly in the vein of the X-files or Ripleys believe it or not. I was most interested however to discuss with him the work he did in the new Mike Patton movie FIRECRACKER< you should all check out the website for that movie and watch the trailor. Good times.

Satan and sex organs.

Tue, 15 Feb 2005 09:51:35 GMT

This is for we who refuse to smile on a day such as today.
This is off-balance stumbling,
This is blood-red succumbing.
This is ugly, mascara infested socialization.

Holidays are for the feeble and unsuspecting.
If only I were unforgettable enough to be either or...

Mon, 07 Feb 2005 21:57:00 GMT

Exactly one year ago today...

(harm)ony

Sun, 30 Jan 2005 08:50:05 GMT

This feels like trying to quench thirst by catching snowflakes on my toungue.
Snowflakes--lonely and insignificant.

Thu, 27 Jan 2005 07:54:39 GMT

"What's coming through is alive. What's holding up is a mirror. But what's singing songs is a snake looking to turn this piss to wine. They're both totally void of hate, but killing me just the same. The snake behind me hisses what my damage could have been. My blood before me begs me open up my heart again. And I feel this coming over like a storm again. considerately. Venomous voice, tempts me, drains me, bleeds me, leaves me cracked and empty. Drags me down like some sweet gravity. The snake behind me hisses what my damage could have been. My blood before me begs me open up my heart again. And I feel this coming over like a storm again. I am too connected to you to slip away, to fade away. Days away I still feel you touching me, changing me, and considerately killing me. Without the skin, beneath the storm, under these tears the walls came down. And the snake is drowned and as I look in his eyes, my fear begins to fade recalling all of those times. I could have cried then. I should have cried then. And as the walls come down and as I look in your eyes my fear begins to fade recalling all of the times I have died and will die. It's all right. I don't mind. I am too connected to you to slip away, to fade away. Days away I still feel you touching me, changing me, and considerately killing me."

Fri, 21 Jan 2005 22:10:53 GMT

Replaying the ending every day that I'm alive.
Counting the days, finger by finger.
Crest-falls and misfortunes.
HIGHS and lows.
...fear.

(AND NOW THE SHADOWS ARE).gone.

Mon, 10 Jan 2005 20:18:51 GMT

This is the cost of my existence. Blood. Dirty, red, fucking blood. Long story there, final summation being that EVERYONE I went to catholic school is at least as fucked up, if not more, than me. I take some comfort in that.

In other news, I took my little brother to his indoor soccer game yesterday, where some first class chaos ensued. There was a fight that bridged the gap between 15-16 year old boys and middle aged men and women. Naturally, I laughed my fucking ass off. Especially when the cop cars arrived. That's right plural, there were 4 at the time I left. Such ridiculous times.

I'm praying to the god of blood-clots.

Sat, 01 Jan 2005 02:58:28 GMT

If I had any conviction (which I don't) I would swallow this entire bottle of vicoden before the clock strikes midnight to avoid starting another year. It seems with each passing year my outlook, experience, luck, and self image tear down exponentially.
100% alone and full of narcotics. This is not a time to either begin or end anything. This is a time to relax and get taken away by violent tides, either to be washed ashore and forced to relearn survival skills, or to drift endlessly into the black apocalypse that is the ocean.

"And new years eve was as boring as heaven, I watched flys fuck on channel 11. There was no one to kiss, there was nothing to drink except some old rotten milk some one left in the sink. And there's no ring, there's no ring on the phone anymore. There's no reason to call I passed out on the floor, smoked myself stupid and drank my insides raisen dry."

P.S.- Thank you to Austin, Cathy, and Sarah for being my friends today.

Thu, 30 Dec 2004 22:58:31 GMT

I got my wisdom teeth taken out today, which fucking hurt.
Also, I removed my penis piercing three days ago, so it feels as though i'm losing weight in tiny increments.
And my mind at a much more rapid velocity.

I hate new years eve, especially with a mouth full of blood and no one to kiss.

There is only one logical way of avoiding the issue. Narcotics! Lots of 'em.

BANG!

Tue, 21 Dec 2004 21:41:22 GMT

We were...
More like bullets than people.
Collide! Collide!

meanwhile, just the other side of choking anxiety, near inebriated panic...
Faceless names and names without faces,
assault my mind and occupy these spaces.
Wine drinking christians always want to share with whiskey drinking me.
I'm smoking my sadness in the corner, trying to feel anything but this sweeping nausea.
Crowd around, pass it to the left.

P.S.-Nathan, I'm sending you some art for Chrismas, but in true heathen form, it will be late gettin there. Give me your adress in Chi-town when you get a chance.

Mon, 22 Nov 2004 09:15:48 GMT

A part of me is missing since you.
I'd kill myself to get it back.

More bang for your buck

Sat, 13 Nov 2004 10:59:52 GMT

Some great songs that are less than 1 minute in lenghth...

Cody Chesnutt-"Brother with an ego"
-Sexy bitches that I fuck with my big black penise
think that I'm a motherfuckin' musical genius.

Cradle of Filth-"Satanic Mantra"
-Archangel, Dark Angel
Lend me thy light
Through Death's veil
'Til we have Heaven in sight!

From Autumn to Ashes-"Mercury Rising"
-Every breath that I exhale is a sigh -
every breath that I exhale is a sigh of exhaustion.
[repeating throughout]
How sad - this is what your life has
been reduced to - a single room apartment containing no more than a mattress.
The strings have been removed from the blinds and all the outlets have been
painted over. The television screen is streaked with blood smeared from your
knuckles as if you were trying to punch it out but you underestimated its
strength, or maybe you just weren't trying hard enough. Startled by a knock
at the door you rise for the first time in two days to answer, but you can
only greet the visitor with one short statement. Hello my first name is
distance and I really don't care if I never wake up again.

Janes Addiction-Precurser to "Ain't no right"
-My sex and my drugs and my rock and roll, on my brain and body
My sex and my drugs and my rock and roll, are the only things that keep me alright
So get your fucking pistol out of my fucking face

Stephen Lynch-"Hair"
-There's a hair on the soap and it's short and it's curly,
A hair on the soap and I don't think it's mine

...And finally, in honor of Ali and I's undefeated record at beer pong this evening, and my subsequent drive home in Austin's car...
Sublime-"Drunk Driving"
-Drunk drivin' is what I like to do
I like drunk drivin' with you

Tue, 26 Oct 2004 08:26:37 GMT

so... the art show was...
well, it was something.
I wish I was showing with someone less talented than Ishmael.
Then my work might look decent.
Thank you to everyone that came.
Fuck off and die to everyone that didn't.

Goodnight moon.
Goodnight inebriated self loathing.

Mon, 25 Oct 2004 18:54:32 GMT

me. Ishmael. art show. Tonight. 6:00. student art lounge. Go there

Mon, 18 Oct 2004 08:30:24 GMT

I WISHED ON A STAR AND IT SHOT ME IN THE EYE
And now I cry...
>because I'm worthless
because images are all I have
because I've forgotten what it feels like to be loved
<because I slipped through the cracks in my heart and plummeted into the the whiskey soaked depths of my gut* ````````````````````````````````````````````*Here, my memories of happiness erode. I cry because I've long since forgotten how to produce tears, and my tissues come back bloody Don't pretend to care. i don't

Hold my mouth to hold in a scream

Sat, 09 Oct 2004 05:07:29 GMT

Thirty Seven was the hour when I broke my will.
It was the hour when truth became a lie.
It was the hour I loathed.
The hour I suffered.
The hour I wondered if there was a person under this mask of departure.

I doubt it, I really do.
I'm drowning
I'm sedate.
I'm an advocate of turmoil.

Thu, 07 Oct 2004 04:31:29 GMT

So...
Operation: Through Nathan a party was a complete success. I spend an ungodly amount of money on whiskey. Nathan was sick and passed out early. Classic. I looked wonderfully funderfully pink.

But anywho...
It's days like today I wish hallucinations never ended. And I wish you could silence me.

Redefining Lost

Sun, 03 Oct 2004 01:42:17 GMT

Cosmic wanderings, the likes of which I rarely act out. Universe at a glance, copmplete with the shadows of a million evaporated hopes. Cruci(fiction) in the sky./

Mon, 27 Sep 2004 22:58:10 GMT

This is for the people I love. That could include you!

"...the only people for me are the mad ones, the one's who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"

Sun, 26 Sep 2004 09:55:28 GMT

The time is now 3:55 a.m.
I would rather be in a coma.

Sat, 25 Sep 2004 07:14:03 GMT

I'm staying the weekend here in Colorado Springs. This is always weird for me. Now that my older brother is gone again, I get to sleep in my old room, which is considerably better than the lifeless room I had to stay in every time I visited last summer.

My reasons for coming here this weekend are two fold. 1) To watch my little brother play varsity soccer, cause he is such a badass, and 2) To make a pathetic attempt at temporary (very temporary mind you) sobriety, in order to sort some things out in this shipwreck of a mind. No drugs, no Jack Daniels, not even any cigarettes, for two days. I know what you must be thinking, and yes this really IS an incredible challenge for me. Ah, the plague of the chemically dependent. It seems I'll be having a reunion with my old friend "drinking entirely too much fucking coffee."

Now this is big news. My dad gave me a shirt today. It's a tight fit and looks a bit aged. For good reason though, it was my grandfather's during world war two. BRIEF HISTORY- My grandfather earned not one but two purple hearts in world war two. Shot by the Japanese. Shot by the Nazis. He then went on to marry his nurse, my grandmother, and father six kids, who parented somewhere in the ball park of 15 grandkids, and he lived to see the birth of 3 of his 5 great-grandchildren. He is my opinion the only person I've ever known who lead profound and meaningful life.

BACK TO THE PRESENT- I'm a shell, wearing the shirt of a hero.

I can't remember when...

Thu, 23 Sep 2004 20:55:05 GMT

-censored-
Comatose creations from the hand of a born pariah.
Worthless, because I never learned to like myself.
All I have done is spoil the sparks of transcendence that pass through my grasp.
-censored-
What can be degraded?
What pain can be inflicted?
What tires can be burst?
What ships can be sunk?

When will my lungs, liver, and heart take some initiative?
let go

"We are the low-art gloominati, and we aim to depress. The scaberet sacrilegends, this is the golden age of grotesque."

Wed, 22 Sep 2004 09:33:03 GMT

And what if I don't wake up? What if none of us does? What if we all just disappear like apparitions of the virgin mary, with no proof we were ever really here?

I'm practicing giving up and succumbing to demons. And speaking in lies.
But my tongue wasn't made for lies, it imbibes the truth like a subtle victory. And it gags, with the reflex of a knowing participant in the vandalism of an ivory self image.

From the log off a sinking ship.

Sat, 18 Sep 2004 17:49:18 GMT

If the fog were not so thick, I wouldn't fear the periscopes that follow. The unseen. The stalking.
I don't remember much, and can only relate to terror.
If I'm awake, then I may never sleep again. But I can't deny the possibility that perhaps I am in fact dreaming, never to be released.

This inevitability presents itself every faceless night. I accept it. I go down in flames.
I find myself on the deck again, hearing their voices, as if for the first time.

drunk

Tue, 14 Sep 2004 09:29:34 GMT

fuckibruisedmyknucklesandbledbutstillIsmile