haiku'd rivers!!

River

thank you, for being
the river where poetry floats,
and bobs its way to life.

Nibble

silence comes after
we nibble on
peanut butter sandwiches


Conversation

Please, don't go!
it's too late; I don't
want to trip over you.

Checkit. you'll love it! My friend's webcomic.

first, last: I wanna lay you down on a bed of roses

whatever

you say
"there were
plenty of people
there last night"
I say
"plenty of people?
thats intense..."

you look
happy
content
her giant picture
invades space.
like the
heavy early morning
pollution
that hasn't been
burnt
by the sun
or evaporated,
gone.

"But
what kind of
people?"

you say
"artists, designers,
beautiful people, people that matter,
because they're famous
and they make money."

"she's an artist.
they way she walks, talks and
drinks red wine. It stains her teeth.
She is vampire-like in her hunger.
the way she craves his blood
like she needs it to survive."

he's in to
getting his blood sucked
his money stolen

she consumes him.

oh, catapult baby

"yes baby
ill build it
ill BUILD it!"
For Mah Quiby.

oh
yeah, bebe money
my bebe-monhey
tastes like
de hunny
of de cows
when they go
funny

on farms
so sunny.

mah bebeh
likes to
go
uh, ohhhhh
when he goes
ohhhh, uh
on dah street
in dah middie
of the sizzlin'
morn'
on the tip of
de tongue
mah bebe
go
uh, ohhhhh
and I gots
to know
he'z
all mine
cauz
my bebeh
go OHHH, uh

tribute to voice

i pull her covers off with my mouth.
i'm tasting it with my wagging tongue
tastes like her.
i taste, taste,taste. I taste sugar and vanilla. Oh and I smell something; it's seeping under the door. i drool, drool.
Oh, it is that yummy sliced meat with smoked flavor and that red stuff they dip it in with those shinny pointy things.
it is. I can't wait. they place it were I can reach it. I will have to look cute before this happens wait for the ohhhs and ahhhs. and aw, baby's. I love them.

that thing that makes the cold is making noise. I hide in her covers. I lay in them and curl up like a macaroni or burnt hot dog, the kind that shrinks and curls but still tastes good even if they want to throw it out and I've drooled on it and its slobbery so they have to give it to me.

they give it to me. oh, dreams of hotdogs on meaty mountains of the brown stuff they put on chicken and those milky sweet things that come in those boxes. I see her now. Sticking her hand in, it gets lost. I get worried. She's lost her hand! oh, no. Wait!
It's magic. Her hand comes out of the box. I can feel my ears twitch as she says it "Here, baby." I drool- ools all over the place.
"Oh, that's it." She gives it to me just like that. And, my mouth is full. I keep licking and licking.

"Oh my baby's never satisfied" She says, her high pitched voice hurts when she says things loud, when she gets excited. She runs her hands through my hair. I roll over. She scratches my belly. My leg twitches. I can't stop laughing; it feels so good like the time at the beach when I was yelling at those moving mountains. They were going to eat her I swear, but she stepped right into them. She didn't care. She's the bravest of all the pack. I yell some more. I can feel my hair rising. It rises.
They've swallowed her those yelling mountains; they roar when they touch the rice like yellow ground. I feel them under my toes; they turn into white stuff like the white stuff in the sky but only when they hit the yellow stuff. I feel them; they feel ich-ich-ich; I lick them just to see what they taste like. They taste like that white stuff that's on that place they put the food. They shake it onto everything. The ground tastes like that probably because of them and their white stuff like clouds.

I saved her from their white stuff. I yelled until they spit her out. She came out drenched in their drool-ools. She was safe. All because of me and my yelling.

The thing that makes the cold is still screaming like that lady that was stuck inside the box thing that turns on and off. She screamed for all long time once, because the box was left on. By, the time I had figured out how to get her to shut up like those moving mountains. It was too late. Because, my love was already home and she had a box filled with treats. She gave me one. Her hand disappeared. "Oh, that's my baby" she says. "Sit boy." She scratches my ear. My tail wags. "You are such a good puppy!"

not ever for a day

I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair

DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pablo Neruda

OH and then THIS for sure!!! for sure...
Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint

Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.

I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.

If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,

never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.
- Lorca

this is what i look like

the gypsy man's self image with the still life of that framed picture of the couple dancing reminded me of the time you took my self-portrait for me. you smiled as i sat beside that stack books and twirled my hair as usual. take off your shirt. what? it will be sexy. but are self images supposed to be sexy? they can be if you think you are!
Well, I don't think I am.

then you found what you were looking for--a real solution to the problem; my mole above my left breast. You said look darling it breathes like you do. it smiles and cries. it's a dot of life. it contains so much. it tells me so much about you.
I touched the part you were talking about. I didn't feel it. It didn't feel like anything.
It felt like skin where skin was supposed to be. there was nothing secret or magical about it. listen. you said. listen to me.
you put your ear on the dot and listened as if you were a lifeguard and my spot a heart that might stop at anytime from inhaling water or from loving too much.

please stop trying to convince me that it will not be alright; you say, as you kiss my spot. I didn't feel them--your kisses.
I held them apart. The spot was not a part of my body; it was a part of a different constellation. It belonged to the sky, to the big dipper to the comets, to the dancing clouds.

why do you kiss me so softly, here? I point to the spot. I hate it. I HATE IT. You kiss my hand. I feel it. It's bold and wanting. you leave me wanting more kisses. I love your mole; it's wise.
WISE? Is wise sexy?
yes, darling. yes, oh... you don't know why? You smiled at me and I couldn't help but feeling like i missed the punch line.
I couldn't help but notice how you still probably bit your nails even after you promised me--over wine no less-- that you would stop.I acted like a scientist by using my deductive reasoning; my abilities to use logic like a =b only if b=a were well up to par and were in fact brilliant.. This made sense to me. I thought about work and history. How do we learn things about each other? An Archeologist would examine teeth and bones to identify the cause of death and the purpose of life, of a civilization's promise and of its downfall-- it's ancient lifestyle. All lovers are archeologists. They dig through the dirt and memorize the indentation of bone and the peaks of the teeth.
Your black nail polish left little black chips on your teeth. I notice this when you smile. Oh, that smile that changed my life.
the first time I saw you; you had smiled so giving and bright.
I see you, holding the camera. the tripod sits empty. you'd rather hold your tool. because it is more personal this way. more loving more feeling more blah, blah, blah, blah.
I feel like houdini and I am performing the chinese water torture and I can't find the key. The audience believes that I am magic but I know the truth; I am a joke. I am funny ha ha.
I say all that I can think to say. I say:
I don't know why! Just take the picture. I am still sitting by the book stack in between your first love Nabokov's "LOLITA" and collections by your favorite poets: Lorca and Neruda.

Take the picture. I think Take the picture so you can capture my soul and then I'll be yours like the couple in the picture.
I'll be yours forever. Start counting, you say. I start counting "one locomotive, two locomotive, three" Then finally, I see it. it's what i've been waiting for and five locomotive and FLASH!

Work for This

Listen to me.
when you have the time.

take it easy - bright eyes
megalomaniac- +/-
the book of right on- joanna newsom
where's my mind? - the pixies
homesick - kings of convenience
hong kong garden - siouxie and the banshees
loose lips- kimya dawson
you wouldn't like me - tegan and sara
what's the word- we are scientists
keep me- the black keys

FOUND: HUGHES

Anonanonanon.

sometimes a ditch full of
magnificent, cold water
is a slow motion
dissecting experiment
on speech and
action; full of
anecdotes.

TED.

they took me to
where I saw
the deer all colors from white through
every brown to black
and curious pheasants
with tails like rockets.
and I played records full
of anecdotes:
look after yourself
and write.
love; over
the great park.


Dear Pumpkin.
if this doesn’t reach you
i have no great news; only
everything is in the same expression
as you left it. every
thing is warn out from trying to
hear you.
Did I hear you?
or was it the
cracking of a locust in Palestine
as he does nothing but
HOWL about the lightness
of your fingers. then
he goes frighteningly beserk
like a whip cracking,
GROWLING enrage.


TELL ME SECRETS.

Spring
froze in silence ---
four inches of ice
but, no snow.

Silence
its coat over its
arm teaches
perfect freedom.

Freedom,
absurd, exquisite
possession.

Possession,
composes letters in
an intricate geometry of
lights and shades in the
modest emerging of
morning.

Morning,
the clamor of
the world
tell me: How is
life?

Life,
“light and shades”
When I come out there
I expect
love.

duh-duh-duhuhuhuhuh

1. This must be the place -talking heads
2. one armed scissor- at.the.drive.in.
3.Exodus Damage- john vaderslice
4. Dancing in the dark. - Bruce S
5.blue monday - the cure

Love me till my heart stops.
Love me till I'm dead.
-talking heads-

also, today I think Ted Hughes is pretty cool. Ross and I are working on a poster for his english class. It's all about how Ted liked to write about the world. or something. The thing is Ross is pretty impressive when it comes to these things. I am proud of him.


Lovesong

He loved her and she loved him.
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her
Safe and sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Off that moment's brink and into nothing
Or everlasting or whatever there was

Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy palace
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His words were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assassin's attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
His glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap
His promises were the surgeon's gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
Her vows put his eyes in formalin
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall

Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other's face

Ted Hughes

the loss of something in parts

I talked to Grandma today. She might lose her hand. But, then I told her that there are some things that we can manage to lose.

Her hands
wash away
the effects of bad dreams
or too much chocolate.
they clean out
the closets
and stuff the turkey.
they hug
before they kiss
wounded skin after a war with
the pavement.
she'd kiss
and make it better.
her hands
never forgot the
feeling of the dew droplets
that hold conferences
on that rose petal
right above the
thorn
on a sunday morning
before church
before her hands would kneel
together in prayer
and give their rites
and blessings to
the grand
daughter
who stopped believing
a long time ago
in conferences of faith
in heaven
or hell
in rest days.
but never stopped being
scared of
wounds
and monsters
under beds, or
of stuffing turkeys
with filling and getting
her hands dirty
with soil
as they dig deep into the
earth
to give birth to something
to make it grow.

Now, I have a song in my head...

Singing:
Hey smilin' strange
You're lookin' happily deranged
Could you settle to shoot me?
Or have you picked your target yet?

Hey Sandy
Don't you talk back,
Hey Sandy

Four feet away
End of speech, it's the end of the day
We was only funnin'
But guiltily I thought you had it comin'

Hey Sandy
Don't you talk back,
Hey Sandy

post temp file. so as not to erase. deleting is a bad habit.

Manila tells me her truth in a garlic smelling kitchen. I like her truth; It’s a story of the time she fell in love with me. Well, I fell in love with her too. I was telling this to you in our light filled kitchen when London phoned. He told you stories of wars and fighting. Well, you’d have to leave soon. You were leaving Manila to write stories for London.

The Bamboo plant listens to our conversations. He holds them together in his leafy palm. He rubs then together. He makes energy in the form of friction. I watch him while you talk about going down south and the excitement of actually getting to report on something of real value. I question this notion of “real value.”
Really. Real. I say. Really valuable.
Really. You say, This is real life shit.
Oh, and Manila’s not real like I’m not real or these chairs or this kitchen.
You’ve gone all crazy again.
The plant needs watering. I say. I get out the watering can. I fill it up and empty it out.

The next morning, you tell me all about the ethics of good journalism. I tell you how I don’t think it’s a good profession for lovers. I see all of the passion pour out of you; you were hungry for me once.
Now, your notebooks are arranged in separate colonies on the floor. Your hands are colonizers; they fearlessly seize foreign territories and collapse empires.

yes!

opening, you open
to say yes
and then no
like it was so easy
at first
to give, and give,
and give.

closing, you close
when you say no please
later, thanks. and then
no, again
like it was so easy to say yes
and kiss from head to toe
and know that
yeses are wonderful but
maybes are better.
they’re non- adult.
they’re youthful in their
indecision.

half closing, half opening you wait
like you’re on a narrow street, cobble stone or brick
you’re holding a red umbrella
red for no for waiting for me
all over you.
but, you wait for the
yellow taxi with the black lettering
with the license plate
that records all wrongdoings of running
stop lights, fender benders.

half closing, you like the rain
and it’s fresh, free, lonely
yeses are wonderful when
raindrops whisper them
on eyelashes, tops of heads,
or the red skin of umbrellas.
half opening, you like the street
and it’s wet and coming alive
like you all over me that time
some time ago when you
saw the moon begin to rise
from my bedroom window.
light or shadow? which do you like better
you don’t choose
and it’s my job to make these
decisions. to say
yes, yes, yes!
I choose Light!

closing, you say
maybe, the moon’s rising
and I’m hungry for you.
but, the yeses, yes, please, etceteras
get lost in the magnetics of
the bed, the moon, the maybes of
everything you mean to say
but don’t.

opening, you open to say
yes all over me
you say it, but
nothing happens.
your yes disperses into the
horizons of our bodies: Our atlases of decisions
of whether to breathe in or out
of whether to kiss, caress or sleep
in the vague moonlight.
of whether to say yes, yes, yes or NO! or
maybe, because we’re scared
of losing something by
choosing yes, or no.
Maybe, you choose maybe.
The moon sinks into the light
Maybe, nothing dies.

thoughts, tonic and gin

Ross said something this morning that seemed to make sense. This was before coffee which might explain some things regarding content and meaning.

He said:

I am back in Manila.

The celebrity section in the newspaper reads like the obituaries.

I miss mom.
It's like that Skybombers lyric:
"If you wanna be the one darling don't pretend."

Think about "Time to pretend" (MGMT)

I am up. I am up.

And, there's a volcano in the middle of the pacific that's getting rid of her anger from where it was once contained to an area that's a little less hospitable.
I feel sorry for this anger. She's going to be disassembled and dismantled. She'll evaporate and condense into liquid heat. She's got the time to pretend. She'll pretend to be a cloud, water, heat... anything but anger. Because, no one likes anger... time to pretend!

We'll live under the city.
no one will find us.
we'll hide.
hide with me.
there's no pretending
when you're hiding.
unless hiding is like pretending?
and, I'm up
Good morning, come on, come on,
time for the city,
looking pretty.

The day the air smelled like dead something
my mom told me all about you and how you believed that the Montok
monster was real.
so what if it's hiding under your bed
so what if it just wants to hold you
and rub its scaly hands all over your
warm body.

little scrapes on soft
body. cold on warmth
she told me all about you.
the air was heavy with
water and smoke and
the trees formed a canopy of leaves
yellow, brown from the sun.
yes, I hear the wind
she tells me your secrets
she says your stories
in little tones with hushed "OHHS" and outstanding
"YES, DARLING. PLEASE YESES!!"

and then,
there's the truth.
she says your story
I hear her through the roof
of greens
yellows

But, I don't remember it
anymore.
I see you.
I see you closing in, opening up
screaming for more
more of me
less of you.

what?
"yes darling. Please yes!"
... you say
yes darling
please yes.
YES PLEASE.

in love and war
one must be like water and
rush into the void
left by loss
and regret

rchongson
original
with some modification.

i miss you!!

Yes!

"come like the wind
go like the lightning"

Sun Tzu

If so,
so what! Please
don't be afraid to
tell me all about
how you did that
to me
here.

when did you do it here?
Before, drowning in it.
After, It's done
you come with me.
yes
yes you do
this
this love
Please, come with me.

Hey, yes I'm saying
yes.
so, don't be afraid to
feel, yes.
oh, before or after
you know
what I want
to do
yes, come
yes, you have to
come with me.
why?
because I love it.
because this love did it.
It tastes like you
sweet, clever

oh, yes
I love it.
come with me.
You did it to me.
Thank You!
Oh, thank you.

play me

play me
with me
top
bottom
oh, fuck it
LISTEN
to
Cowbell- Tapes n' Tapes
Reach that place- sleepwalk circus
Mayonnaise- smashing pumpkins
Dito Tayo Sa Dilim- Pedicab
Out of Control- She wants revenge
Citrus- the hold steady

listen, are you listening?

note on forehead

there's a note
on my forehead
it reads:
don't worry
because worry
lines are ugly

there's a note
on my chest
it sings:
"to-ta-touch me
I wanna be Diirrty."

there's a note
on inner thigh
it reads:
please, yes
please. I say yes! PLEASE!

there's a sign
on my lips
that reads:
Ohhhh, yes. that's right.
you're all mine
all mine.

love

etc.

I had dream
that I don't want to talk about.
It involved the following:
shotguns
long hair
ghosts
assholes
and love going away
on vacation or something

you know
what they say?
when love's away
the stranger will play.

I think I am
paranoid.
etc

coffee research.

"You and your friends don't know shit about women. Why talk to them like that? When you can see they don't like it? If I want to look beautiful, I do it for me"

oh and this...

Hassan: I just got stung by a lousy mosquito. These neighborhoods are dangerous. Lagos is safer. What' your name?
Sophie: Sohpie
Hassan: I'd give you my card but I have none left. Too bad! Sophie, fancy a cup of coffee? Go on! Can I massage your feet?
Sophie: Why would I let you?
Hassan: Because they hurt.
Sophie: They do?
Hassan: You were running in my dreams all night.... Please have coffee with me.

and

I have self control.

like...

we are all connected in the same way that
Faulkner.
Murakami.
the talking heads.
burning down the house.
are all connected.

these connections like paintings in a gallery
like quotations

read:
I'd be able to conduct, (a), a life with my right hand and, (b), a life with my left. Not that it matters much. It's like doughnut holes. Whether you take a doughnut hole as a blank space or as an entity unto itself is a purely metaphysical question and does not affect the taste of the doughnut.

AND AS LONG AS I KNEW THE WORLD WAS STILL IN MOTION. I KNEW I EXISTED.
Murakami "A Wild Sheep Chase"




Exist with me.
we'll belong to each other.
we'll burn
re-grow
re-work, be re-born, re-open
then, close
then burn
then we'll
fall into it
burst into
space
stick, submerge
MERGE into one
gigantic universe
of cells
dying
regenerating
separating
splicing
clotting
then finally
evaporating
into porous
fragments of ourselves

then
we'll turn into water
we'll drink our spirits up
in a large cup
filled up to the
brim
with curiosity
and newness


New, we are
anew
afresh
and in love.

stop asking questions! I know what I am doing.

My mom called and asked about my article today. I said
"Mom it's not my article any more. I've sold it."
She didn't get it. She said,

"Oh, if this is all about selling out and all of that BS. you can forget about it. We breathe the same air. You sold out when you were born."

"WHAT?" I said, "There's static." I hung up only to call her back. "Mom, I love you"
"I know honey"
"And I miss you"
"I know honey"
"And I know how what you mean"
"About what, honey?"
"About selling out"
"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you"
"No, It's a shit article anyway"
"I don't like you attitude"
"I know"
"Go do some yoga, or have a glass of wine."
"Okay. Oh, and Mom I've been thinking about July when I come visit"
"yeah and?"
"And, I want to sleep in the basement."
The internet cut out. END CONVO HERE!

music for you?

1. Yes - coldplay
2. name- the goo goo dolls
3. hang me up to dry- cold war kids
4. blister in the sun - the violent femmes
5. M.I.A. - the foo fighters
6. point to something - sleepwalk circus
7. transmission - joy division
8. psycho killer - talking heads

writing at the office

"...because light didn't mean anything to him. as we know, he made love with his eyes shut."
- Milan Kundera-

Cinci.
I go to museums to remember you. I tell you all about paint and how it works as a vehicle for change. This is how I change-- by way of remembering what it used to feel like to create you through kisses. Now kisses are collected from memory by admiring the paint on fabric. Every inch of canvas is reprocessed to be made beautiful in someone's eyes by the texture of the paint and the mixture of color on white. Your skin like canvas was repossessed by kisses. I took it and rearranged it with my mouth. Little licks of color screaming "LET ME OUT! I WANT YOU!"
I am screaming now as I look at the paint. I feel the texture with my hands barely touching the fabric. "I WANT YOU" still. I pretend the canvas is skin. Your skin--porous and perfect-- erupts with energy in my memory.

< I had it then I lost it. I spoke in an American English at one point. I smiled like a golden arch.
Then, I kissed you. S for me= a revealing of self
Poetry is veiled language. Why do I write to hide?

...
cinci.
I had a dream that my camera caught fire and it's parts started to dance around in specs in front of my face like fireflies or city lights. (or city lights like fireflies)


....
manila.
This is what Manila looks like when she cries-- glistening streets like shiny pennies.
She screams (but like this)
This is how she cries (title)
and then we wonder why we miss her and then we realize that it's because she holds the secrets to everything.
then he realizes that she's still sleeping and she won't come back not for a while. This is something he can't share with her. (sleep)
she's far away. She's somewhere else like cinci's far away and somewhere else but not quite because he can email her
and reach her. but you can't email someone when they're dreaming. You can't call them up. You can wake them up but then you'll destroy their dream.
(waking up) It allows you to sheare in whatever you want with them which maybe is what he wants (???) WHAT does he want? FUCK
... He doesn't know for sure. All he knows is he is going to fall in love and he doesn't care with who.
....or who with?
....or how?
....he doesn't want to be alone anymore!!
he's lost. that's the point. he'll stay lost and isolated because he's too into himself to care about this. he's too dense to see that he's missing out ....

ugh, writer's block is only in my mind?
maybe, talent leaves like people leave.
I haven't used it in a while. Maybe, it felt neglected and decided to move on to someone else who will make use of it.

Murakami would write this.

A disturbed comic-book fan who killed seven people on a stabbing frenzy in downtown Tokyo had advertised what he was going to do on an Internet bulletin board, police said Monday.

As stunned mourners placed flowers, sweets and comic-book images at a makeshift shrine, new details emerged of how he kept a detailed log of his plans to wreak havoc in Akihabara, the hub of Tokyo's comic-book subculture.

The assailant behind Japan's deadliest crime in seven years, 25-year-old Tomohiro Kato, worked on a temporary contract at an auto components factory in central Shizuoka prefecture, police said.

On Sunday, he drove a rented two-tonne truck some 100 kilometres (60 miles) from the town of Susuno to Tokyo, swerving the vehicle into pedestrians before bursting out and stabbing at random with a butcher's knife.

He told police he was "tired of living" and had no motive other than to kill people -- anyone he found.

Kato reportedly had a strong interest in comic-book and video-game subculture.

In a school yearbook in which graduating students were asked to describe their personalities, Kato enclosed a picture of an action hero and simply wrote the word "curt," a television report said.

He admitted to police that he documented his journey on Internet bulletin boards posted from his mobile telephone, a police official said.

"I'll crash my vehicle into people and if the vehicle becomes useless, I'll get out a knife. Goodbye everyone!" said one posting hours before the crime, as quoted by Japanese media.

On a different site, an anonymous posting on May 27 was entitled "A disaster in Akihabara" and warned that an incident would take place on June 5.

Around the crime scene, overnight rain had washed away the bloodstains from the streets of the electronics district, where residents placed flowers and pressed their hands in prayer at a makeshift shrine set amid the neon signs.

In the Japanese tradition, mourners left offerings at the shrine including sweets, coffee, beer and -- in a twist befitting Akihabara -- comic-book images of action heroes.

"I left coffee because I think that some of the victims will need coffee in the morning," said Ukyo Murakami, a 14-year-old boy on his way to school.

"I'm afraid he did this because he played video games. But he should have known that in life, you can't hit the restart button."

Businesswoman Tomoko Iizuka, 58, was sobbing as she paid her respects with a bouquet of flowers on her way to work.

"The victims included young people with a bright future. Why did he do such a crazy thing?" she said.

"It's all his fault. He deserves the death penalty."

Manila, manila, etc.

Manila speaks to me with an open heart. She speaks slowly of a time when I will have to leave her. “Live,” she says “Live well.”

The city rises early on a Monday morning. The buses clank and heap together like a herd of Alpacas rushing to get where they are supposed to be going. The question is “Do they want to go” or “Where are they going exactly?”

Manila says to me, through sleepy eyes, under sleepy breath.
“It’s not like I am leaving you tomorrow”

The coffee is ready when she says this and I am easily distracted by its smell. It’s local brew—strong and robust. Yes, I am easily distracted. I pour myself a glass. She isn’t leaving me tomorrow. I think, but aren’t we always leaving each other for something or someone else. Isn’t this how it works? I’ve already left her for my first cup of coffee.
I’ve drifted away from her. She has no idea.

“Did you hear me?” She continues, “… just pour me a cup?”
I do what she asks. I am not one to be easily manipulated by silence or open heartedness. This is a state of submission. I think. It’s true. She’s rolled over. She’s on her back. Now, I no longer want her.

Manila speaks to me quickly. She’s in a hurry today. She’s in a hurry to get it out. What ever it is she needs to get out.

She was magical when I loved her. She used to linger, silently floating on the waters of the pacific. She’d whisper “Don’t worry man, I’ve gotcha. Everything’s going to be alright.” She’d say “Shut the windows” I would. It was then that I realized the reason for the closed windows, the closed doors; her never ending silence. The windows kept her spirit in. Closing them kept her spirit from leaking away. Her silence, so profound and seductive at first, grew into a wall that kept everything inside of her.
“Who is Manila?” I asked her once. “Who are you?”
She smiled and said, “Please, close the windows and turn off the lights.”
She wrapped herself in a blanket. I crawled into place behind her. We enclosed each other. Manila slept soundly in my arms.

Now. QUICK, QUICK, QUICKLY…
She is telling me that she wants to live just live with me. No more locks and spare keys or taxi cabs at 3 am. “I want to live with you.”

She tells me this before my first cup of coffee. The two mugs sit on the kitchen table. They are lukewarm and sweaty. I bring my palm to the body of the mug. I feel its smoothness; its never-ending reliability.

Cincinnati calls after Manila closes the door and I image crawls into bed. She always likes to sleep in the fetal position. Cincinnati speaks in well formed prose. There’s no poetry in her words just perfect grammar and the remnants of a passion that had been locked up inside for too long. See! I think. This is what happens when you close the windows.
“Look” Cinci say, “I miss you.”

ROCK STAR BABY

I don't know what to say. I have no apologizes about the hair. I am officially an aunt today.

" I'm your lover, I'm your zero."

Tita syndrome

I talked to Kuya today. He was tense. He actually woke me up from the best sleep in along time of bad sleep and sleeplessness. I love him allot. I just really realized this through hazy eyes and sleepy fingers.

"Sara will be induced tomorrow."
" ...like inducted?" I said "What?" This brought back memories of the X-files and Ian's mad scientist tendencies.
"Uh, CHRIS. They are going to induce labor tomorrow."
"Oh, FUCK" I said. "I am going to be a TITA like for real, like no joke, like you're going to be a PAPA and Sara's going to be a Momma. DO YOU NEED ANYTHING?"
"WELL, you can tell Ross something for me" he said
"K, this better not be too techy or whatever."
"It's fine, just write this down."
I wrote this down and Now there's a note sitting by ROSS' computer b/c that's the only place he'll look, for sure.
The note reads:

Ross,
Ian wants you to take his Shaman and his warlock and empty mailbox.
Put all the stuff in the bank.
<3 ate

In other news...
I reread the "The Unbearable Lightness of Being."
And, This is about love:
We all reject out of hand the idea that the love of our life maybe something light or weightless; we presume our love is what must be, that without it our life would no longer be the same; we feel that Beethoven himself, gloomy and awe-inspiring, is playing the "Es Muss sein!" to our great love.
What a great love.
Remember, the way it sounds. It's danceable, memorable.
NOW, LISTEN
"May we never be stripped of anything we love. May we grow so gentle; never go mental."

"Forecast Fascist Future"
- Of Montreal-

begin this way?

On riots:

1. They wanted to get rid of corruption; he wanted to get rid of me. Neither provided easy solutions. The "getting rid" of corruption would require an overhaul of the government. The "getting rid" of me would require a complete overhaul of something else.

2. ... because these rain droplets fall from the clouds like tears. They form out of heaviness. They collide. They break apart. You wonder if anyone else thinks about the beauty of raindrops.

3. thousands line the streets in distinct colors, distinct shapes.

4. The city clamoured in anger. She was in pursuit of silence or peace. This is what she said to you. She speaks in hushed tones.
"Shh," she says "Don't you get it? it hasn't happened yet."
"I know," you say in more than an honest whispher. " I keep waiting for this."
THIS-- but, you don't know in fact you have no idea that in a few minuts a riot will break out.

clouds in dreams

I had a dream last night (or this morning, depending on who you ask,etc.)
I was sitting on a cloud.

my girl:
Thomas J. Sennett: What do you think it's like?
Vada Sultenfuss: What?
Thomas J. Sennett: Heaven.
Vada Sultenfuss: I think... everybody gets their own white horse and all they do is ride them and eat marshmallows all day. And everybody's best friends with everybody else. When you play sports, there's no teams, so nobody gets picked last.
Thomas J. Sennett: But what if you're afraid to ride horses?
Vada Sultenfuss: Doesn't matter 'cause they're not regular horses. They've got wings. And it's no big deal if you fall 'cause you'll just land in a cloud.

oh, the cure:
Spinning on that dizzy edgeI kissed her face and kissed her headAnd dreamed of all the different ways I hadTo make her glow"Why are you so far away?" she said"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you?That I'm in love with you?"

You Soft and onlyYou Lost and lonely You Strange as angels Dancing in the deepest oceans Twisting in the water You're just like a dream...


You Soft and only
You Lost and lonely
You Just like heaven.

black and white

a birdcage without a bird

I came up with a new band name. Now, I just need a band. Anyone interested?
I can play the cowbell!

In other news, I am up way too early. Considering my current situation, I am going for a swim.

Everyone's talking about ruling the world. But, Honestly, I just want to live in it.
Live in it with me?

New opening: Manila speaks to me like she always has and comes through in fragments over the ocean...
wait, I don't like this one.

I am going to look at pictures of the writing on walls.

not if you were the last junkie on earth

i feel like Paranoid like the song by GARBAGE but I am a little less hip than Shirley Bend me
Break me Anyway you need me As long as I want you baby it's all right.
"get this!" I would like to be a little less crazy but maybe it's just lack of sleep what a waste of time: SLEEP
"i only sleep to dream" "i can hear you singing to me in my sleep" "And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don't hurt me.You're what I couldn't find.
A totally amazing mind, so understanding and so kind;
You're everything to me.

Oh, my life,
Is changing every day,
In every possible way.

And oh, my dreams,
It's never quite as it seems,
'Cause you're a dream to me,
Dream to me."

Age of Empires III, nap = me all day today. DEAL, man.

"i'm always ready to go."

since you went
away
my heart
is forced to
find a new place

where is it?
how many miles?
Oh, you measure in Kilometers?

does it matter?

I've found a new place
sometimes when this
place gets kind of empty
I think about
how I've heard this all
before
in a song
about leaving,
staying,
being-in-the-world
with someone else
and playing
in fields
shooting stars
etc.

Let's watch the stars like
we used to...
our new places can wait.
they can whisper to us in
the night.
we can listen together
and make out the
words
and wish that we knew
what we wanted

maybe, these places
we'll go
we can go together
we don't have to leave
each
place
and pretend
to not miss what
we miss.

Stop, looking.
I'm here,
waiting.

when I really miss her, she seems really far away.

He said he loved you
and you believed him

then you flew
around the world
... and became
what he wanted.

then you let him go.
and he believed you.

magnetism

"we build something, they blow it up."

some things (quickly) about the world, poetry, sleeplessness

... "a girl named Amber walked across a room
and everything became a new-made poem."
..."and after her, poetry overexposed."


this is my favorite one:
"SO BRIGHT the heart opening
with a slam."

what happens when your heart opens?

and what happens If it likes to SLAM into things
and then you get in trouble because it gets too good at it
and it slams against pillars then buildings fall
and it bangs against those indie kids that like to rock out with their whatevers out
not singing along but playing a long in the game of "cool" and "uncool"

.... what if, it stays BRIGHT? and you smile too much? and you're sleeplessness comes from all of the BRIGHTNESS and you just can't get away
IT's not like you want to anyway. Because you can't.
Because you are too busy, slamming into things.

the history of cpr or me with you

I should be writing about Cambodia.

you were

developed to
heal and treat
my body
from the sudden
onset of chaotic
electrical
activity


you had

originally intended
to preserve life,
restore health,
relieve, and preserve
an electrical line

an electrical line
is a shockwave of
pluses and minuses
that gets somehow
lost in all of
the magnetics
in the constant
pull and pushing
of those opposing
poles

but, don't you get it?
I want you
My +/-
okay, you pull. I'll pull

you only
serve to
sustain me
as I pull

I sing
+'s
-'s

This is me with you.

stuff written on walls

I want to be a radio DJ.
I want to write a novel
I want to play the cow bell in a rock and roll band.

oh, go stare at walls
oh, go jump in a lake

love. love. love. love. love.

about me

I woke up this morning with Echo and the Bunnymen doing a number in my head. They played and I yawned. They played "Under the Milky way Tonight."

I listened. The lyrics go:
I got no time for private consultation,
under the milky way tonight.
wish I knew what you were looking for
might have known what you would find.

My day usually begins like this. There's always a tune doing a number in my head. Sometimes it's a good tune like "Under the Milky way Tonight" or "Spanish Bombs." But, most of the time, it gets pretty embarrassing. Most of the time, songs like "I Wanna Know What Love is" or "I Can't Hurry Love" play and wake me up. They stay for the whole day. They hold on for dear life like I am a sinking ship or something. They play and go around and around. Imagine, doing groceries and hearing the lyrics to a Foreigner tune:
Now this mountain I must climb
Feels like a world upon my shoulders
I through the clouds I see love shine
It keeps me warm as life grows colder

Oh, and your in the dairy aisle. You're shopping for cheese. Then you realize that things can't get any better because you are shopping for cheese and you're listening to Foreigner.
And it goes around and comes around. Okay, this is not a JT reference. Although, in all fairness, he is pretty hot and yes, I am jealous of Scarlett Johansson in that video where he kisses her and she pretends not to like it!

More about me...
I dig movies. And, chocolate everything. I like icecream; vanilla is my favorite!
And, I twirl my hair when I am nervous. I am doing this now. Maybe, I am a little nervous. Maybe, it's all the coffee or the Keso ice cream?

Wait, what about me?
What I mean to say is "I dig music." Because, without it; there'd be nothing to wake up to.
I can't even imagine a world without music. I listen to all kinds.
I can be pretty pretentious about it. But, if you ask me, there's no such thing as bad music. There's just noise.

And, no one likes waking up to noise. I like to ease into noise with music. So, I guess this is my point. Music eases me into life.

modern lovers: "Pablo's feeling better now"

"Pablo's feeling better now"

and I kinda feel like shit.

I have to edit, edit, edit.

(this is andy warhol and its take one, take one)

I had a dream last night.

I was sipping tea with andy warhol

we're sitting on Pollack's

back. It was hairy and decorated

with squiggly lines. The lines

moved and changed.

they turned into graffiti

the graffiti read like song lyrics.

to edit, BOWIE:

(what did I say)Whole, its whole as in wholes(andy warhol)

Like to take a cement fixBe a standing cinema Dress my friends up just for show See them as they really are Put a peephole in my brain Two new pence to have a go. I'd like to be a gallery Put you all inside my show

Andy warhol looks a screamHang him on my wall

(what did he say) alright well he was only 5 foot 3but girls could not resist to stare

pablo picasso never got called an asshole

not in new york

I feel like

I like Pollack
Please listen with me,
1. Sunset Beach- The Teenagers
2. Are You Ten Years Ago- Tegan and Sara
3. Little Red Corvette- Prince
4. Last Christmas - Wham!
5. Pile of Gold - The Blow
6. Hope- Descendents
7. Space Oddity - Bowie (baby!)
8. Dancing With Myself- IDOL (worhip? yes)
9. chillout tent - the hold steady


Lyrics I like:

Boys we love you
Some of us don’t
But plenty of us do
You should treat us good
You do that and you know
We’re gunna-uh-uh huh
Share more of our goods with you

All the girls are sitting on a pile of gold
All the girls—
And the boys you know they want—they want it
All the girls are sitting on a pile of gold
All the girls—
And the boys you know they want it, they want it

They want it. They want it
It’s economic
Beneath the warmth that we export
Of course some boys will try to push the prices down
By pushing girls around
I’ve seen some do this
Learned to see through this
They get scared
So scared maybe we’ll refuse to share with them
A gentle mass attack..... Exodus
Tell them
I know the truth that if you could
Learn to save enough to make some trade with me

oh and this:
I'm taken, I am yours I'm up and doing circles
I collapse
I might stay out longer than I left the light on for you
Then if you show, you show
If you show, you show
When I feel like this
When I get so in
To myself
I lose track of where I'm going and lose track of how to get going again
I feel myself slowing down
Feel myself turning around
Is this taken?
When I feel like this
When I get so sick of myself
Where are you going now without me
And not knowing then, that we're slowing down
You've gotta turn that around
And tell me that I'm taken,
Tell me if I'm yours
You collapse
The pressure of this life is so
You can't be held accountable
If you go, you go
If you go, you go
When you act like this
When you get so sick, of yourself
The whole world falls away and since
I feel
Like I have only missed the feeling that I'm here again
The feeling that I'm clear again
I'm not taken
When you act like this
When you get so in
To yourself I lose sight of common goals
And letting go so I can be all alone
Feel myself, going slow
Feel myself, letting go
Not taken,
Not feeling like I'm yours
I'm taken, I am yours

and this!
There was a stage and a piet up in western massachuttes,
And the kids came from miles around to get messed up on the music.
And she drove down from Boden with a carload of girlfriends,
To meet some boys and maybe eat some mushrooms
And they did and she got sick
And now she's pinned and way too shaky.
She don't wanna tell the doctor everything she's taken
The paramedics hovered over her like a somber mourning family
They gave her activating charcoal, they flooded her with saline

Her:
"I got really hot and then I came to in the chillout tent,
They gave me oranges and cigarettes."

He was rough around the edges:
He'd been to school, but never finished,
He'd been to jail, but never prison.
It was his first day off in forever, man
The festival seemed like a pretty good plan,
Cruise some chicks and get a sun-tan.
And his friend gave him four, but said only take one,
But then he got bored and ended up taking all four.
Ah, so now my man ain't that bored anyways,
The paramedics found him: he was shaking on the side of the stage.


Him:
"Everything was spinning and I came to in the chillout tent,
They gave me oranges and cigarettes."
Her:
"I got really hot and then I came to in the chillout tent"
Both:
"They gave us oranges and cigarettes."
She looked just like a baby bird, all new and wet and trying to light a Parliament
He quoted her some poetry, he's Tennyson in denim and sheepskin.
He looked a lot like Izzy Stradlin.
They started kissing when the nurses took off their IVs,
It was kinda sexy, but it was kinda creepy.
Their mouths were fizzy with the cherry cola,
They had the privacy of bedsheets
And all the other kids were mostly in comas.

Her:
"He was kinda cute, we kinda kicked it in the chillout tent,
And I never saw that boy again."
Him:
"She was pretty cool, we kinda kicked in the chillout tent,
And I never saw that girl again."

<<< Now I want some oranges and some cigarettes. <3 's always

80's music when I should be working!!

I was researching the history of the Khmer people and Vietnamese coffee then I took a QUiZ....

Your 80's song is: Every Rose Has Its Thorn by Poison.

hmm, why?

here are the lyrics:

We both lie silently still
In the dead of the night.
Although we both lie close together
We feel miles apart inside
Was it somethin' I said or somethin' I did
Did my words not come out right
Tho' I tried not to hurt you
Tho' I tried
But I guess that's why they say

Chorus:
Every rose has it's thron
Just like every night has it's dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has it's thorn

Yea it does

I listen to your favorite song
Playin' on the radio
Hear the DJ say love's a game of
Easy come and easy go
But I wonder does he know
Has he ever felt like this
And I know you'd be here right now
If I could have let you know somehow
I guess

Chorus

Though it's been awhile now
I can still feel so much pain
Like a knife that cuts you
The wound heals, but the scar, that scar remains

I know I could have saved our love that night
If I'd known what to say
Instead of makin' love
We both made our separate ways

Now I hear you've found somebody new
And that I never meant that much to you
To hear that tears me up inside
And to see you cuts me like a knife

Chorus

How EMO IS EMO?

haha. okay. I am officially crazy!

advice for 15 year old me

Don’t let anyone tell you that RANDOM CHAOS is not a way to organize your life.

Accept. Move on. Keep loving.

When Pops tells you to “PLEASE PUT THE GOLD FISH IN A BIGGER BOWL” or maybe it was more like “THE GOLD FISH IS TOO BIG FOR THAT BOWL” listen.
Or, the gold fish will end up dead on your bathroom floor. Oh, and yeah, you might step on it with bare feet. You’ll feel its scales in between your toes for months. LEARN TO LISTEN

Time, you have lots more than you think. BREATHE-IN-THEN-OUT

Read more. Think more.


When he asks you to marry him, give him some water, tuck him into bed, and write a poem about it.

ONCE A CHEATER, ALWAYS A CHEATER.

When that dude asks you on stage because your outfit is so 80’s and tight as “F**k” PLEASE, forget that you think the word “tight” is overly hip and ridiculous and haul a** on stage. GIVE the guy a hug. He’s a hottie for an older dude.

EAT the burger! EAT the fries! Fast food will only kill you if you let it.

Smoking is fine as long as you do it socially and not alone sitting on your patio.
Get up earlier. The mornings are nice. Walk on dew covered grass in bare feet. It’s liberating.
MONEY it’s green. That’s all you should know or should need to know about money.
If it doesn’t all work out, you’ll realize that happiness does not come easy. But then that’s all part of it. Stop being a slave to yourself. Get over it! We’ve got oceans to sail.
Take longer walks through the woods or on the sand where the ocean meets the shore.
Look up at the sky, often. THINK about how the sky and how the stars are always there even during the day when they are just overshadowed by the sun. Also, remember that the sun is the smallest star. It’s lucky because it is the closest to the earth. Sometimes distance matters, but sometimes what’s important has the power to stay with you even when it’s overshadowed by everything else.
FEAR is important and so is failure. Welcome, welcome, welcome.
Triumphs happen. Slowly. Welcome, but don’t wait. It’ll happen when it happens. And it will happen. Slowly in the little things.
Smile more. And, in the end, DR PEPPER LIP SMACKER is better than dark red lip stick.
If his friends say he’s bad news, who gives a shit. And please make out with him anyway.
REGRET is not important. IT causes stagnation. You’ll get stuck in the past. You’ll still be floating in the pool, eyes red and chlorine stained.
When you decide to volunteer at the animal shelter, drive your mom’s van. You’ll meet someone special, blonde. You’ll find out later that he likes long walks and cuddling by the fire, while you watch THE NOTEBOOK.
Don’t let anyone tell you that BOWIE sucks. LIFE ON MARS will change your life.
KEEP air guitaring at four in the morning. You’ll miss it when your stop.
Keep listening to 80’s rock and don’t name your hamster ELVIS. Or, else he’ll end up dead with his head slumped over the food dish. Also, don’t over feed him. Processed cheese has more fat than you think.
Your mom’s the best friend you’ll ever have. Admire her. She’s stronger than you’ll ever be. She’s awesome.
And please try to remember, the human heart is the size of a clenched fist. It’s much stronger than you think.

old stuff that reads new? or .... what?

Talk story

she saw him coming
down the stairs

he looked the same.

And,
the grave sat empty
in front of a crowd
of burning candles.
each one watching, melting beads of wax.
Then the beads
became pools.
then they turned in to oceans.
And,
the waves and the ridges, formed next to
islands and mountains. each one watching, melting
next to the fire.

She saw him—shadowy, sheer
evaporating, turning into Nothing
whistling down the stairs.
She felt the same.

And,
the islands and oceans, made way for volcanoes
and little fingers belonging to curious hands.
grabbed and molded the beads.

they turned them into balls, in to wax men.

She saw him by the candles.
He ate them up.

He became different.
then the beads became pools.

Then he turned into oceans.
**********************
too political for publication. or no name.

He died by
JUDICIAL 'L
O
N
g

HANGING’
They made him
JUDICIAL ‘L
O
N
G
DROP’
The shortest drop
about
FOUR FEET
( that’s about one foot
shorter than the dead man
from head to toe)
He
needed
The longest drop
about
TEN FEET
(that’s about five feet
shorter than the dead man
from head to toe)
JUDICIAL ‘L
O
N
G
DROP’
Or
JUDICIAL ‘L
O
N
G
HANGING’
should break the neck
should snap it
in two
or three, or four parts
it doesn’t really matter
as long as the dead man
suffers the

JUDICAL ‘L
O
N
G
DROP’
Or



JUDICAL ‘L
O
N
G
HANGING’
and, the dead man falls
onto the ground
w/ the neck
broken
fragmented into pieces
as long as he’s scattered
like pick-up- sticks
as long as he’s littered on the floor.


He
needed
the longest drop
about
TEN FEET
(that’s about five feet
shorter than the dead man
from head to toe)

and the dead man falls. But,
they must remember
that too long a

JUDICAL ‘L
O
N
G
DROP’

Or

JUDICAL ‘L
O
N
G
HANGING’

leads to decapitation

it doesn’t really matter
as long as the
dead man
suffers

**************************
He says
she won’t reach nirvana.

She started off as a larva,
consuming,
devouring green things, sucking out the chlorophyll,

She didn’t know what she was doing.

It came naturally,
this need to be consuming.

Then, she changed into a tree
She reached and stretched and grew deep
into the earth, creating geometric shapes, with her
roots.

It came naturally
this need to break through things.

He says
I create my spirit

He whispers this,
into his napkin as he watches
her walk down
the stairs.
And he sees her reflection
in the mirror.
Tired, ready, aging
She didn’t know what she was doing.
He reached and stretched
And she pointed her toes as
She walked

Graceful, ready, youthful.

Then, she became new.
She burst into flames, scattered into stars.
He says,
she won’t reach nirvana.
She started off as a bird,
Singing, crying, waiting for the light

She knew what she was doing.

He says
Imagine me, so I can exist
Her reflection in the mirror.
He watched as it scattered into
geometric shapes, circles and spirals.

It came naturally
This need to watch her leave.

**********************
See the poppy seeds
start wars in east
Asian countries
on little islands where
soldiers smoke numbness
through wooden pipes

The smoke funnels
like the roots of a tree, into the air
into the porous skin, into
the tropical rain clouds overhead.

They beat and fluff out nicely.

They see lucid images of
little girls in sari’s floating around a fountain
of red wine and of fingers playing on
guitars weaving through space
at a hundred miles an hour.

They are recorded by
scribes on papyrus
as they sit under the stars on a clear
night where the Junks
are out on the bay. Little lights, strung up on their masts.

See the wind, colliding with the sail.

They swallow wind.
They butcher water.

they smoke numbness
through wooden pipes in east
Asian countries where
there are Neolithic pots decorated
with cowrie shells from some place in
Africa where numbness does not live.

They float around the mud huts.
They jump ditches that protect
their cassava and peanuts.

They see lucid images of
a tumor breaking through skin
Like the head of a cauliflower,
vomiting small amounts of blood on its horizon.

They eat through skin.
They beat and fluff out nicely.

***no drama. fine******

where have you gone joe di-maggio?

I am listening to Simon and Garfunkel and I am working on resumes.

It is going to be another long day.

So, Cher: I want to do something for humanity.
Josh: How about sterilization?

and listen to THE JAM- "That's Entertainment" this will give you an idea of how I am feeling.
ha, god so dramatic and it's not even lunch time.

(ian, hope the shower went well. I've got gifts. Like a baby tee that reads: Pinoy Ako!)

I'll be a TITA in a month.

lyrics for all of you:

A police car and a screaming siren -A pnuematic drill and ripped up concrete -A baby waiting and stray dog howling -The screech of brakes and lamplights blinking -
that's entertainment.
A smash of glass and the rumble of boots -An electric train and a ripped up 'phone booth -Paint splattered walls and the cry of a tomcat -Lights going out and a kick in the balls -
that's entertainment.
Days of speed and slow time Mondays -Pissing down with rain on a boring Wednesday -Watching the news and not eating your tea -A freezing cold flat and damp on the walls -
that's entertainment.
Waking up at 6 a.m. on a cool warm morning -Opening the windows and breathing in petrol -An amateur band rehearsing in a nearby yard -Watching the tele and thinking about your holidays -
that's entertainment.Waking up from bad dreams and smoking cigarettes -Cuddling a warm girl and smelling stale perfume -A hot summers' day and sticky black tarmac -Feeding ducks in the park and wishing you were faraway -

that's entertainment.

Two lovers kissing amongst the scream of midnight -Two lovers missing the tranquility of solitude -Getting a cab and travelling on buses -Reading the graffiti about slashed seat affairs -
that's entertainment.

Okay, I am going to be a "real" person and stuff. I'll let you know if
I get the job. I am all for the advancement of third world countries. CIAO!

"cliche, I know"

I haven't updated in a while

"I know, but the speed of the world was sane up to the point when I fell asleep last night. Beyond that I can't be sure."

A few things:
1. ice skating
2. DURAN DURAN (tonight!)
3. Restaurant etiquette and behavior
4. music. cowbell and drums.
5. writing for wimps

I like the word wimp just like the word automatic but not quite. you put them together and you get automatic-wimp. I wonder what this means. I think about Ryan Adams and cold roses.
and, how much I want to drive down a highway (like really fast). I want to do this without speed limits or whatever. I want to f'n fly. I've said this before but I think I mean it this time.

Right now, I am listening to Ryan Adams' cover of WONDERWALL.

"And, I am sure you've heard it all before
But you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody feels
The way I do about you now ."

peace mofo. yeah, right on!

travel feature

I am working on a travel feature on Cambodia.

This is all I have so far:

Women are not allowed to touch Buddhist Monks in Cambodia.

I found this out the hard way.

Okay, I don't like it. It's a dry opening. But, It's a start. This is usually what happens. I write 12 openings and then end up starting with the middle of the article.

Oi!

I am sick and Ross won't stop listening to AC DC.

I can't get Tnt out of my head.

See me ride out of that sunset
On your color TV screen
Out for all that I can get
If you know what I mean
Women to the left of me
And women to the right
Ain't got no gun
Ain't got no knife
Don't you start no fight
Cause I'm T.N.T
I'm dynamite T.N.T. and I'll win that fight
T.N.T. I'm a power load
T.N.T. watch me explode
I'm dirty, mean and mighty unclean
I'm a wanted man
Public enemy number one
Understand?
So lock up your daughter
Lock up your wife
Lock up your back door
And run for your life
The man is back in town
So don't you mess around
Cause I'mT.N.T.
I'm dynamiteT.N.T.
and I'll win the fightT.N.T.. I'm a power load
T.N.T. watch me explode

what would it feel like to explode?

crazy people

New opening line: "All the crazy people I've met, I've found on the street."

or something like this.

How Filipino am I?

[ X] eat rice like everyday
[ ] take off your shoes before you walk into someones house?
[ X] when you get in trouble, your parents look at you in a weird way?
[ ] you get hit with the hand or a slipper or a belt?
[X ] you talk in tagalog a lot? (haha)
[X ] you've been to the Philippines?
[X ] your parents are strict but cool?
[X ] you sing or put on the magic mice at parties
[ x] you sometimes act as if you're in the Philippines?
[X ] you bless your elders by the hand?
[ X] you eat Filipino food a lot?
[ ] at parties, you always serve at least bbq, pancit, and rice?
[ X] you always serve your guest food or drinks, even if they don't want any?
[x ] you have a lot of plants in your house
[ X] you break the rules a lot.

I am apparently only 60% Filipino.
Go figure.

book worms

I am reading AUTO FICTION.

I will not stop till I understand how she writes so well.

Maybe, I will never know.

laLalaLA, I am such a nerd.

i feel like

I like to make play lists on aeroplanes!!!

Things never go as planned.

remember: play list was written on Tui Non (motion sickness bag)
Vietnam Airlines
Flight from HO CHI MIN to SIEM REAP

I guess the playlist shows how I am feeling. Well, I guess "was" feeling would be more appropriate.

Transmission- Joy Division
Blankets like Beavers- Chin up Chin up
Some Cities - Doves
Alala - CSS
Tomorrow - Death Cab For Cutie
Holiday in Cambodia - Dead Kennedys
Under the Milkyway Tonight - echo and the bunnymen
Busy Signal - the exploding hearts
(Just Like We) Breakdown - Hot Chip
Sunny Afternoon - the Kinks
Never as Tired as when I am waking up- LCD Soundsystem
Say What You Mean - Make Believe
Love is a Place - Metric
Ursa Minor - At the Drive in
The Charming Man - The Smiths
Megalomaniac - +/-
Easy Girl - Coconut Records
Alone in Kyoto- Air

*****

Siem Reap (which means the place where Siem fell)
to Hanoi, 2 hours; heavy head; tired eyes; little brother on shoulder; music blocks noise; i've decided to stop listening to the news

a few things i've learned (mostly thanks to the discovery channel): Electricity wasn't invented it was discovered; don't be a dumbass; half a volt is not alot of electricity; dumbass; it's much harder to find ancient DNA that's still intact; my DNA isn't intact?; that's right dumbass! it has trees growing out of it; oh, like tomb raider shit; that's right dumbass just like tombraider; oh, there's no way that humans alone could have built it; where do you think DNA comes from?; Oh, the universe, the solar system; it radiates; it breaks apart; it has gravity, weight, movement.

Playlist on THE SOCIALIST REPUBLIC OF VIETNAM's ARRIVAL- DEPARTURE DECLARATION CARD

What's up- 4 non blondes
can't smile without you - Barry M.
son of a preacher man- Dusty S.
Somebody I used to know - Elliot Smith
Let's Go - the feelies
Mushaboom (postal service remix)- Feist
Dreams- Fleetwood Mac
Lovers need lawyers- the good life
Parenthesis - the blow
forth time around - bod dylan
It's all gonna break - broken social scene
glory days- bruce springsteen
Drive- the cars
Needy girl - chromeo
the most beautiful girl - data rock
Ava Adore- smashing pumpkins
Gut feeling- Devo
Look After Me - Hot Chip
Lola - the kinks
City girl- kevin shields

*****
saigon to manila
philippine airlines; on tranquil traveller ; for your comfort and well being in the air; feathers; pillow forts.

dance music - the mountain goats
trapped under ice floes- +/-
i don't like it like this - the radio dept.
california - joni mitchell
hey- pixies
the twist - metric
the ocean - VHS or BETA
trigga hiccups- menomena
augustine - patrick wolf
where you'll find me now - neutral milk hotel
bodysnatchers - radio head
singing in my sleep - semisonic
prophecy - remy zero
mad world - tears for fears
satellite - TV on the RADIO
Dancing Barefoot - Patti Smith
It's a hit - Rilo Kiley
;mirror in the sky what is love?; a: BODY SNATCHER