Email to a Family Friend

Dear C----,

What would you say to you if you were me, seeing you being unkind to yourself?

I understand that alcoholism is a physical addiction, and that your brain has rewired itself to depend on alcohol to feel good, but its just a brain, they are just feelings and memories, you are so much more than that, C-----.

There are decisions you can make, to accept support, to forgive yourself, to move on.  Whatever is holding you back in your life is an illusion. You are willing to listen to and talk about anything, but are you willing to try anything? Or is it just intentions? 

Your upbringing sounds terrible, and I see you are treating yourself according to how you were treated, but you are wiser than that.  You are worthy of love C----, and you are able to love, and you know you are, and you know that this world is short on people who can really love.  

You alone have the power to change the score, and if you set your mind to it, it’s a sure bet.

Please put yourself in positive situations, set yourself up for success, surround yourself with loving, positive people and clean yourself up so you can be present when others need your help, because that is the most important thing.

I don’t hate you C----, I love you, and care for you, as I would any human being, but especially you because you were kind to me and helped me, and have helped others and are a person who has made so many kind and loving decisions.  But as soon I I see you drinking and see your disorientation and hear about how unreliable you can be, I can’t connect with you, I can’t trust you to be clear or logical or loving, and it hurts.  It’s like your a drowning person and I don’t want t reach out my hand and get pulled in.  You need to swim, you need to grab onto a life preserver (something that makes life worth living, some kind of support system) and keep swimming towards the boat, swim, swim, swim over the feelings of despair and need and pain, fight them, but fight them smartly- fight them in advance, by letting other people help you, by putting yourself in positive situations, by staying moving.

I don’t expect this note to change your life, but I hope it can be PART of the change, because it’s taken me a lot to write this, and to risk saying all these things, and I sure wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think it MIGHT make a difference.

Love,

D----

Oct 9th 11:15 PM Thoughts about current girlfriend

"Hey- I thought about what you said- I don't think it's worth either of our time trying, I have different habits and philosophies and 

I don't like the way you communicate, you strike me as a bit lazy and immature, slightly entitled sometimes, on the other hand, very sociable and personable, caring 

even hitler had a girlfriend

its hard because I think about all the good times we had, but then 

 I had no idea you cared this much, I guess thats part of it

(like why wren't you expressing it all along?)

you need to mature and grow, and on your own"

Thoughts about May 15th 10:36 AM

I feel like I can't really say what I feel- which is "unackbolwdged, untrusted"

Because you:

Are unwilling to be real

Don't respect me as an individual

Are self- centered 

Play games

I Don't want to talk to you

That's the real message you've sent me- I'm not good enough/ ready enough, deserving enough to be trusted or treated with respect. 

So nancy I'd rather just ignore you- you are t papotfe or real, a net drain, you suck 

You treat me like a child and reinforce a dependent incapable image with the language and behavior you extend to me

Evolving lines about a date May 28th, 10:45 PM

your perfume (although not natural) was light and lustrous, faintly floral and made it feel like I was kissing a soft blossom. the world inside our mouths was a bubble in time and space and our tongues danced in the emptiness. 

I kissed a soft blossom and

inside the bubble two tongues danced

about the empty space

yes yes, forget about all that, you’re hot, what’s not to love (message to self about sentimentality)

Two tongues danced in a bubble of soft blossoms

New Years Eve 2013

New Years Eve 2013

dance dance dance

oh look at the time- (145? last train at 2?)

where are my friends? phone call received- we're on the way to the train, hurry up!

where is my jacket with keys? not to be found

look around look around and get down

on knees 

to look around some more

against the flow of people being evicted- closing time, frantic search, rapid fire questioning

cut losses, kiss lady, run down the street, 

zoom, nothing here but a drunk dressed up man running, running

following the phone, running running

i approach the station, glass outer door closing, inside train still there!

rap on the glass- station person: sorry its already leaving

NOOOOOO

call friends- don't know what to do- taxi? too expensive it seemed (though in retrospect…)

by fluke an extra loose key to my empty apartment in my pocket, so...

BART! last bart at 3!  run down the street, 15 blocks, made it- last bart waiting

tired, some teenagers say the rudest things about mints 

"mints are for fags" while some other people eating mints, talking about trading mints for some collectible thing

how randomly inciteful

i think about saying something, obviously not worth it  (your mom is for fags came to mind, but don't fight fire with fire, right)

i get off the train ashby station- now just 15 blocks to home, 

the passengers disembark and scatter

i walk, the night drags on,

nervous, unsafe, dark

self-aware

i walk and walk and walk

so different by foot the route

Home, locked door, safe haven

not so safe from the cold

cold, dark, hard

not a thing around

NOT A THING except a half damp towel in the bathroom becomes a pillow

no heater, hardwood floor, no jacket

huddled in a corner

hours go by wake shivering 4 am

can't stand it anymore

decide to take hot bath

spend next 4 hours in bath, water on and off, in and out

time for this raisin to get up-

phone- almost dead

call… "mom, …"

bart- closed?!

walk back

call mom

bart not closed?

toes basically bleeding

walk back

take bart

get off

mom there, with sis

aye carumba

now getting my car

400 dollars on NY Day for Key?!

wait a day leaving in my friend's driveway and unable to get to work?

AAA- 100 instead of usual ()

alright its worth it

set it up

wait in driveway

taking long time

walking back and forth

weeding their lawn

talk to friend's mom and old friend

say goodbye, hello, what happened last night? (later realized they were  coked up off random smack, never helps)

talk to friends mom, mother figure, friendly advice, future business, awkward pretenses with old friend haven't seen in a while, (she's really on best behavior, passive aggressive is the norm)

key guy comes, makes key, can go

say goodbye

the nightmare is… a funny adventure

2008-x-x Song: Many dreams have been dead

I think it was over summer 2008 that I wrote this, while I was going nowhere, working at the dining halls at UC Berkeley and wasting my time.  I started with the first line and took it from there.  It seems to me, like many of my poems and songs to have a certain choppy indifference, I like the symbolism, but it's lacking, maybe it's a dream that died itself, haha.  It was influenced by Graceland by Paul Simon and Sweet Child of Mine by GNR.  It seemed so epic when I wrote it, that's what marijuana can do, marijuana, depression and romantic attachment- the kind of love that muses about it's certain failure, instead of sticking your dick out-- metaphorically-- and going for it.  This is not how to rock out with your cock out, its how to be sad, trying to gain consolation from beauty, cold beauty though, not warm wavy chaotic beauty.  It's overly passive, and obviously depressing, though it ends with an ambiguous sentiment.

MANY DREAMS HAVE BEEN DEAD
Many dreams, have been dead my girl

Spilled from my head hang halfway in words

no longer stir, sit- still on the sill of the

win-dow to my soul.

Where do I go- where do I go from here?

Ferry me to Pharos,

Cast off veiling shadows,

now I see what matters,

Meet me at the meadow

Amid serene green scenery

we'll find meaning in the machinery

underlying our lives.

You helped make my escape,

from the lonely valley.

Down some unknown back alley,

we'll dodge and duck,

and learn from our mistakes.

Redeem my soul astray,

Rid me of my evil ways,

Inspire me the courage to change,

Provide me wise words to say.

MANY dreams HAVE BEEN dead STILL I dream SOME MORE

(refrain)

2007-6ish-x: Aubade for a Sleepyhead

Written sometime when I was on ADD meds (as I was from age 10-22), sometime after my grandma died in 2006, but before I really got stubborn about failing.  After the initial stoner phase, but before the real depression and flirting with self-destruction that came with later substance dependence.  It speaks out to my romantic side, to the desire that I would have someone to say such cute things to, but its rather self-aggrandizing as well, as if to say "look at me and how sexy and cute I can be"- I think I was insecure at the time, but not necessarily depressed.  It was a foreshadow of the passive dependence romanticism that came out later.  I still like it a lot and hope I get to sing it to a sleeping beauty sometime, someone who knows all about me, and still loves me, and but wouldn't dream of saving me.  Haha, so I'm looking for acceptance now, not salvation.  Is healthy love based on, in part,  of putting yourself out there to be accepted?  But not SEEKING acceptance or approval-- especially from anyone in particular-- it certainly could be!

Aubade For A Sleepyhead
(starts with faint delicate guitar picking, gradually speeds up with the intent of waking my lovely sleeping lover)

You've got to wake up some-time, sunshine
There's a new day waiting for you and me,
Not a cloud in the sky to be seen
nothing but bluuuue between
two siiiides of the horiiiizon
warm summer breeze is quite inviting
so I say to you, "It's time to be risin'"

[faster to slower picking]

The rooster crowed, hours ago
So let's go, get this show on the road.
You're so cute, curled like fetal in womb,
but it's time you unfurled like a petal in bloom.

The sun's already hoisted halfway in-to the sky,
it'll be noon soon, we CAN'T stay cloistered INside

[slower to faster picking]

Should I put ice on your nose?
Should I tickle your toes?
Do you need a quick bath?
Should I pour you a glass?  (((coffee or hair of the dog or whatever you're having)))
Can I massage your back?
I'm gonna PINCH YOUR ASS!!!!  (just added this line as I wrote this blog post)

The song is over now, so get dressed you sleepyhead,
The song is over now, so get dressed you sleepyhead,
(I'm gonna sing this refrain til you get up out of bed!)
The song is over now, so get dressed you sleepyhead,

2006-9-26ish Poem: Listless Ends

I wrote this poem just after my grandmother died and a particularly attractive girl cut me off from seeing her anymore (in retrospect the break-off was well-deserved).  The silhouette in the poem represents both-- people I would no longer see; definitely in the case of my grandmother, and probably in the case of the girl.  I was on ADD meds and smoking marijuana at the time and presented a fairly unstable and unreasonable position to this Beautiful Mermaid Selkie, which no reasonable person would have dealt with.  She represented a kind of higher ideal I was struggling to meet, an upper class if you will, and I felt I would fall short, but struggled to be worthy, and then did fall short (at least that's the narrative I held at the time).  What I learned: well my biggest regret is having these negative/painful/unpleasant memories in someones else's mind, knowing that I caused them, knowing that I am associated with negativity, aversion, etc.   I wish I could have given her more joy, I regret not leaving earlier, fighting the inevitable, letting my ego make a fool of me.  I was acting in a passive aggressive way, an partially intellectual way, argumentative and unpleasant, irresponsible way, compensating for problems in other areas of my life.  The biggest lesson--  a relationship will reflect the rest of your life, so take care of your stuff-- make great friendships, develop yourself, read, lose yourself in something bigger, break free of your childhood patterns, and then a relationship will naturally reflect positive things, and if it doesn't it-- will be much easier to leave, because you don't feel like you need it, you feel strong and on a roll.  This poem also casts a passive tone at the supposed inevitability of friendships falling apart, indicating my depression and pessimism of the moment.
In terms of content, the underlying phonetics drove the composition and the semantics barely fell into place- I had no actual visual silhouette I was recollecting, I was speaking of no particular fallen friends; it was hypothetical, manufactured drama, reflecting my lameass passive attitude towards the future more than describing the past.   It is interesting that I was with my mom walking around our yard as I was composing it in my mind, almost as if my mother offered no comfort.   It was winter- cold, dark- and the sound of cars on the freeway not too far off seemed to drown everything out:

Listless Ends

And it's times like these--
Flush face brushed by flowing breeze,
Churning murmur,
Ocean's roar in the distance--
that I most miss your existence
I'll STILL never forge-et
YOUR silhouette
as we walked through the trees...

Fallen friends,
our ships meet listless ends,
mist descends,
and they ARE lost at sea.

I open my ey-es,
dark empty sky.
Humming highway drone,
humdrum and
cold to the bone.

Song #2 All that you are

One of the ones I wrote during my depressive romantic period with the muse of a certain GSI Girl.  I was yearning for an older woman to show me the ways of living, to make me feel secure as I faced adulthood, a symbiont, perhaps a surrogate for the absent(minded) mother I always had growing up.  Typical dependent romantic sentiment, some slight troubadorism and chivalry, angst-laden, all the hallmarks of romantic dependent love- in other words romance served as an outlet of expression for other facets of my life- unsorted childhood issues, ideas of inadequacy (f I only had a vauable partner to validate my existence nad bolster my self-esteem), lacking a direction (perhaps from lack of conifeince and lack of exploration; from being stifled)- and sure, strong hormones and emotions(feelings of romance) that I had not experienced before, nor had adequate counsel on.  Most of this seems cheesy and misguided to me now, but there are a few things I like.  I had just started to write how much I like the idea of loving someone for "all" that they are, but then hesitated on my endorsement- isn't that a little too accommodating and passive?  Can't part of a healthy relationship be the mutual development of each other- the selection and encouragemnt of certain parts?  What does "loving someone for all that they are" mean?  Can it be active? In loving all of somone can you encourage certain sides, parts, tendencies? Another point is that you can never realy know "all" of somone, so how can you love them?  Are you loving their unknown? and based on what? Their known?  "Are you loving them or your ideal?" is another good question to bring up. I like the imagery of "light up our lives with a sunrise, say goodbye to the moon" that makes the implicit statement that "our lives are in darkness now, and that it's only natural that you will come with me and leave that other guy."  Rolling the dice with somone is romantic, but not smart, and a sign of instability and insecurity, lack of discipline and passivity.  Alright, that's all- for now:

All That You Are

I don't care what you done,

I don't care what you do,

If you give me the truth,

I can give you my youth,

I can give you my love...

For all that you are,

and all that you'll be,

just remem-

ber sometimes,

love don't come so eas-i-ly,

love don't come so eas-i-ly,

love don't come so eas-i-leeeee.

No one 

knows what

the future will hold,

Where will we 

go?

How old will we 

grow?

Find out-

what I'm all about,

be-

fore our time runs out!

Take my hand and then you'll see,

You'll be free when you're with me,

Take my hand and then you'll see,

You'll be free when you're with me,

Sometimes I feeeel like I'mmm 

at your feeeeet,

that I'm

somehow below...

But I'll grow! 

I'll rise to meet you,

I won't cheat you,

I won't defeat you,

I won't bleed you dry,

I won't leave you,

I'll be true,

I'll be by your side.

And if you need to cry,

I'll wipe the tears from your eyes,

I'll clear your mind of fears and lies,

and put your blues in the sky!

So now you've gotta choose,

"Am I to be with you?"

If I were you I'd be

ditchin that other dude

(cus) we can light up our lives

with a sunrise,

 we can light up our lives

with a sunrise

 we can light up our lives

with a sunrise,

say goodbye to the moon,

say goodbye to the moon,

say goodbye to the moon.

2007-x-x Poem: Burning Low

Another poem written during my 2007-2008 depressive period.  I very occasionally smoked cigarettes, perhaps a flair of self-destruction, perhaps an urge to feel a certain mood, perhaps merely a chemical whim for experimentation, or mark of rebelliousness, or measure of my desperation for control, I can't say exactly why, but as the following poem suggests in a less than subtle way, I have strong feelings about them.  You may notice in the first version that I have attempted to format the poem to visually represent the form of a slim cigarette held between two lips.  An alternate form is below, with the syllables and words (and meaning) slightly adjusted, I like them both in their own way.  May this whack anyone reading it on the head with the sense to stop smoking or engaging in any other self-destructive behaviors, and, so to speak, "light a fire under their posterity."


Burning Low

A fire
dies beneath
the mantle.

                   A candle burning low glows in those
                   misery-ridden eyes, exudes demise.

Death stick,
wick, fuse.

Burning Low (Alt)

Fire dies beneath the mantle.
A candle burning low glows in those
mis'ry-filled eyes, exudes demise
A death stick, wick, fuse.

2008-x-x Poem: Overtaken by Randomness

I can't put a very specific a date on this one, but I believe it was written sometime during 2007-2008(maybe earlier?), while at college, during a depressing and introverted period, living alone in an expensive apartment my dad was helping me rent, failing at classes and letting life flow by me, a time of finding myself and growing up, that I am embarrassed took so long.  ADD medication and marijuana complicated and slowed my transition into adulthood, which did not really get underway until I rejected both.  It gave me the insight, though, to see how many people never grow up, clutching to familiar patterns without reflecting on the power of those patterns to shape their lives.  One of the most pervasive and pernicious patterns, one vaguely thematically evident in this poem, is that of passivity, which makes sense because I was very passive and dependent at the time.  Here it is:

Overtaken by randomness

Bitter ashes slashes

In my somersault world

Burning fur grows from my rustface

I fell from grace into cold snow and

bleed all over the place from my knee scrapes

Sad that I didn't have some ace bandages

And overtaken by randomness.

2006-7-x Song: Static on the Telly

Written during the summer of 2006, between Freshman and Sophomore years of college in my smoke-filled attic, with the pseudonymous P. Franklestein.  Just a goofy romp of a song, inspired by the likes of the Ramones' Blitzkrieg Bop and Spinal Tap's repertoire.  Meant to be slurred in a cockney-esque British accent.  It would take a real musician to make an actual song.

Here are the lyrics- sound file to follow:

Static on the Telly
There's static
static on the telly
There's nuthin on but I really don't care
My wife is ge-tting in my hair
There's nothin
nothin on the telly

I rise from the sofa to pour my tea,
the water's tepid- Oh silly me!

Put on mah cap to go to the pub,
went to the lou, gave me face a scrub,
went outside, ran into a shrub,
the yard was dark- tripped on some flub.

Hey how now, let's regail!
Polish off plenty pints of ale!
I'll play some lively licks, now that I'm pissered!
That's the dog's bollocks, and I've got 'em by the whiskers!

(SOLO)

Ziggedy zaggedy lines, zippin in and out of my mind,
I look for an image on the screen, but it's nowhere to be seen,
Could something be wrong with my electron beam?

Is there a fox in my box? Is my TV se-et a wre-eck?
I take out the screws and look for clues,
I get bored, so I crank up the juice!

(RIFF: wawaWA wawaWA wawa wa WAWA)

Is it my eyes on these drugs? Sometimes all I see is fuzz,
What's goin on, what IS happ'ning?!
The TV is on, but I can't see a damn thing!

There's static
static on the telly
There's static
static on the telly
There's nothin
nothin on the telly
Static on the telly,
Bangers in my belly.

2005-6-x Poem: Finite?

Here is a poem that I began in 2005, senior year of high school.  It is inspired by four years of Latin class; the Illiad and Troy, the Library of Alexandria and the Lighthouse of Pharos, tales of Alexander the Great visiting Troy almost a century after the war and supposedly running around Achilles's tomb naked, and the legend that Alexander was laid to rest in a glass coffin in Alexandria.  It is a sort of an address to his spirit, that calls out to the sleeping hero spirit in each of us.  I have rearranged and revised it many times, so the title speaks both to the state of the poem and the state of man, asking "Are we ever finished/ Can our name and legend live on indefinitely?"

P.S. I think it's pompous, overblown and random- when I wrote it I was an insecure teenager, with a sort of missionistic idealism, so, as with all art, keep the context in mind, and judge independently of the creator- here it is, now that I have introduced it so well:

Finite?
Would you wade in the wooden remains,
run 'round the tomb again with your naked friend?
Would you cover your heels where the hero's life drained?
Did a fiery light passing by the container of your last respite,
carry the remainder of knowledge from all
the volumes it swept through the night?
Step out of the past from behind the glass,
To the world you have something to say,
Say something great.

Launch

I intend this blog to be an outlet for my opinions, poetry, and artwork, and hope that eventually it is found by those who find that stuff interesting or useful.  I won't say too much about myself, let my ideas and art stand on their own.  I invite all opinions and comments and look forward to sharing years of creativity.

I will begin posting chronologically, material from the most distant past first, and the most recent past last, so to begin- some poems from my highschool age- ending with something I wrote just last week.  I have everything from sound clips and attempted guitar to drawings and paintings, and I'll post it all; all the internet can take!  I would love if someone musically talented actually was able to perform some of my songs, be sure to send me a link if you do.  Putting things on the internet is like giving things wings and letting them fly away, where they can kiss or peck at other people, so I hope my ideas may kiss, and peck, many people in the best of ways, but feel free to take shots at them, so to speak, as well!