one of these days I’m just going to move off and not say anything more

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turning the notion around and around in my head that this is a fake world fed by the fears of the mind which only creates more illusion and suffering. we have a thirst for it. commercials are the lies, products are the poison. what we can look forward to in this scenario is more trickery, more dependency on being taken care of by someone else, by a government, by its military.

a gov’t and it’s military.

I am lightening up around all the people that vote and think any of it is to their benefit.

(Bush didn’t even win, was put into power anyway; if Gore was put in, how different would things be anyway? now he works at Apple. Apple teams up with Pepsi to give away free music under 1 of 3 bottlecaps in February. folks lose more teeth but dance more. get more headaches but can fucking swear more. one agenda behind a two party system. we get to vote every 4 years: “what flavor of dictatorship would you like this go around?”)

I’m
game
off

everything
is built of sound

trying to
figure an existence out

body spruced lying
face up in
casket to
greet loved ones
after a
long week

I need to
tell you also
that I’m seeing or
feeling things
before they happen

when I get into work
I’m feeling
more miserable more
often

winter is hard to live through

I start to think depression can
be thrown off by
steady exercise and
eating better
and –
I can take
liberty
to be more
creative in the
work space
liven things up a bit
some days when I
get home I’m trying
anything to just
feel alive again.

jump start me
like a lawn mower

. . .

4:20 pm, clock watching, friday afternoon, relaxing some. but many interruptions. gang green. gang green. gang green. keeps going through my head. why is this? we are
going for
indian food
long in the making (3 week murder trial)
temperature again below freezing
pace myself with the assignments
non rushing
wu-tang playing: “unlimited epidemics being spreaded…”

Wu-Tang ClanImpossible

communicate notes

thursday goes like this:

everyone
fingerprinting
my
screen

gravy
train
milk
bone

help
elderly
across
street

broken
finger
half-
fist

communicate
devotion
third
eye

wish:
slap
boss
silly

so, in the night I sit back in bed with the cats and listen to the radio, talk radio. grab food from the kitchen, turn the lights out. open blinds, love looking at the snow during the night. life is good. good to me. hard on me. life is all things. death is floating around in the world and wanting more life. the dead crack jokes, play cards, pass time, agonize, speak to people, communicate different missions.

a future

world gov’t
world banking system
world army
world currency
microchipped population

you’re not so much training your fingers to type as you are your brain. know you can do what you set out to do – as long as you have drive and determination, you can do it.

I fear somedays I’m just losing my drive to do any of this, this whole graphics thing…

stigma
alpha pi
sigma
beta
delta

he could only think of water. woke and moved around the flat waiting till 1 pm before going out for lunch. the idea maybe enjoy food for a change aside from pure fuel for the body. happiness evasive vapor that animals can more easily sense with less complication devoid of dramatic impulse. unatease, disease more easily grabs shakes you like a ragdoll tosses you from a bridge the top to water down below. your normal walking gate you emulate. what do we do without basic necessities. we adapt to new environments or are swallowed by them. capacity to survive. capacity to create joy. vessel of information. system requirements. hemp rope. self disbelief. self berate. self hate. some things never change. our time is stolen. buy a new iMac, buy a deeper entrenched jail cell. money is the trap. you and your family bond together on this understanding and enjoy real time together.

you reflect on your wrongs. get your knives out. knives contest. gather around the story circle. I’m a gambling man, with chances. the story is she never could make much sense of anything around or within her and simply made trouble for every sentient thing she ever came into contact with. she became a wife, a mother, a widow, a senior citizen, a couch potato, a woman coughing on the back porch taking a cigarette break. that is my perception of her. I can see her hopelessness, the bits and pieces she can’t even see. is it enough to bunker down in the walls and hide away from the world till death comes for you? that courage to seek has been lost? that illusion that everything is so ordinary, there’s nothing to go out after.

a second and third brain. the kingdom of God is within you. expand it without. I do not protest a second coming. the miracle of words form before my eyes. the future is the next set of words, the next paragraph, the next moment. in the next moment I am under the lamp, the billion cameras of the world, in bed propped up enough to read a book at a comfortable angle, then getting drowsy. multiple worlds accessible.

slumber
wife emails
book in
bed
two
children
curled
in circular patterns
chime of hour
7 in the evening
plane launch
dispatch
dishearten
him, he talking
about his
“insanity” caused
by extraordinary
events in Peru
a download
of information
into the self
a transformation
of consciousness
not quickly processing
but being
in the public eye
subject to ridicule
to their
entertainment
they transform
what they cannot
understand into
something they CAN
understand
even
if it’s not true

they want
to centralize
power
just how I want
to centralize
the file
structure on
my computer
by grouping
it all together
in one folder:
“my many files”

everything is
combined
connected

energy
electricity

what is
keeping you?

expand the mind

the key
is it to
connect to people
on a deeper level
help them
do I wake up
with a sadness
and return home
with a sadness
because I’m
not doing
what I should be
doing?
should I in turn
be seeking out
to help people
to feel from
them a
possible
direction?

10:20 AM
time is going really slow today, it seems. I like this because I can get a lot done that way. funny how time behaves.

various notes

thursday night driving
by the poetry spot
and it is closed
this said
once again
is
the great
depression
of winter
no one
wants to
be out
no store
wants to
wait up late

instead I
bought
orange juice
said goodbye
to our old
housemate who
is moving out
read a bit
went to bed

it is friday there
are things
unsaid
little tensions
I know I have
very little
to do with
any of it
if they officially
question me
they will
get a
mouthful
I’m abundant
with ideas
as to why
things are so
screwed up here
anyone with eyes
can see

john has
poetry slams and
what not set up
left and right
he eats sleeps
drinks the slams
I guess
I don’t know
what I want
to do with myself
many of
us are just looking
for a direction
to set off in

. . .

handrails
guidance
I hate when I
lay down and
dream of
this place
these people
here
are they asking
me to be
stupid with
them?
I need to
move on
escape this
escape yet
another thing
if there were
something worthy
I could embark
upon and
would be secure
I’d like to find it
I’d be out of here
so fast

this system is set up
to make you think
you are free
having just
2 choices
does not
make you free
like –
“work, or don’t”
that’s like
live or die
work here or
look for work
elsewhere
be miserable here
or be
miserable there
so many
choices right?
enslaved
thinking
we are free
land of
the free

sets of three

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE ME
01 – easily losing my breath
02 – job loss
03 – loss of more personal & political freedoms

THREE THINGS I DON’T UNDERSTAND
01 – how my boss is able to tie his shoes in the morning
02 – how his wife can be so cold and ruthless
03 – how the company I work for is able to stay afloat

THREE THINGS I AM WEARING RIGHT NOW
01 – my old blue sweater-shirt
02 – glasses
03 – tulasi neck beads

THREE THINGS ON MY DESK
01 – a poem
02 – the book “tales from the time loop”
03 – an empty fruit leather wrapper

THREE THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE
01 – write a published book
02 – travel
03 – retire at an early age

THREE WAYS TO DESCRIBE MY PERSONALITY
01 – knowledge/soul seeking
02 – quiet
03 – outlandish

THREE BAD THINGS ABOUT MY PERSONALITY
01 – bad temper
02 – jealousy
03 – depression

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE
01 – amer. indian
02 – german
03 – irish

THREE THINGS I LIKE ABOUT MY BODY
01 – hands
02 – fingers
03 – anti-bodies

THREE THINGS I DON’T LIKE ABOUT MY BODY
01 – bad hip
02 – bad lungs
03 – bad heart

THREE THINGS MOST PEOPLE DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU
01 – I’m 30
02 – was once a hare krsna
03 – sold bonsai trees

THREE THINGS I SAY THE MOST
01 – “is that true?”
02 – “oh yeah?”
03 – “awesome”

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO
01 – San Francisco
02 – Seattle
03 – Miami

THREE NICK NAMES YOU HAD
01 – bgkarma
02 – killercars
03 – B-nice

THREE AOL SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE OR HAD
01 – bgkarma . . . (no others, proud to say)

THREE PEOPLE YOU WILL BE SEEN WITH
01 – casey
02 – rudra
03 – kalika

poems

go
home
for lunch
dreams
of people
I know
travels
the uptake
a career
story
toy story
bug’s life
I don’t
get paid
enough
to do this
if you speak
up for
yourself
they say
you’re a
smart ass
or
have a
bleeding
heart
that
you’re
insubordinate
they
get to
say all
that they
want to say
in order for
me to
keep my job
I get
to say
absolutely
nothing
mute drone
mute alone
mute clone
fools
biting the
hand
that feeds
them
it’s
them
I’m tired
of
taking blame
b/c they’re
too weak

I’ll have to
write poems
about them
to the grave
it just
doesn’t end

. . .

okay, long week
sudden smacks
of matter
stirring the
atmosphere
be
alert
marks/tracks
left
brushed
away
destroyed
evidence
destroyed ancient
libraries
false fronts
to appease
push a lie
hard into
the people
tell them the
state they
are in
tell them
lies b/c
your
blood is
so cold
I’ll give away
the million
dollars I don’t have
to a charity
benefiting
yes
you
your grand
kids
& your
grandkids

me
being
calm
traffic

hey
hay
is
straw

best
moment
in
life

brilliant
passage
enters
brain

new
zombie
movie
coming!

big
surprise
for
wife

bad
habit
watching
clock

such
joy
feeding
cats

MLK’s
gift
to
us

patience
took
too
long

relaxing
after
long
day

heaven
help
our
skyscrapers

god
bless
no
one

“don’t be so dark”

golden opportunity/ies. he said what a blast he’s having. the dark period is over, now it’s all about having fun.

my dark periods
moments of…
being alive

these encounters

I’m
searching for
the right words

stare at
words respectfully

I can
see how
others are being fake
that’s one thing

I am bothered
watching
people put
on faces that
suit different agendas

flattery gets
you no where

I simultaneously
bore & entertain myself

explain carefully that
winter is underway
preparing you for
getting down
to kiss the feet
of Spring
dance around
a fire
for Summer

winter is a
cruel mistress
without
the “mistress” part
oh damn

my wife is
much
missed by
me

I don’t know
calligraphy

at a young age
I still remember the
first time a
soccerball
was kicked into
my stomach
and I convulsed
there
on the ground
the wind
knocked
out of me
never played the
game again
to my full
potential

stars
you see stars
you only see the
stars that
reflect light
there is more
oh damn

unease

more of the same here at work. a major tension build up. I don’t know exactly what it is, but some fights are about to start springing up. I hope to God I’m not involved whatsoever. let them do their thing and stay out of the way.

it was so cold last night. walking from my class back to the car I think I almost collapsed. I think that was the coldest I’ve ever been in my whole life. I was starting up the car and screaming to myself. “you can get through this! you can get through this!”

psychology class was good, but I’m more into the philosophy aspects as opposed to the mechanics of the brain, etc. does that make me a humanist?

some are
freezing more
some
are fr
eezin
g
less

today
I will
eat
an
other
lone lunch
&
pray for
peace
in the
work place

called the
landlord
because
the doorknob
is fallingoff

how to sweep
a dusty
place &
avoid
lung-lock?

boy in
a bubble
wear
a gas mask
gear up
for outer space

some go
down
into the earth
don’t know
how
some
photocopy
off the
glass
in japan they
put the
new cell phones
to their foreheads
and through
bone hear
conversations clearer
some
get unconscious
and stay there
others say –
“I can’t get off the ground”
then –
“you need to get grounded”

notes

everyone is in such a mood today. they’ve had bad weekend experiences, I don’t know. they’re carrying it around all day with them, trying to bring others down. funerals are hard. welcome back bosses. my time has been good. body strained from heavy lifting, but nothing serious like dysfunctional lungs, dysfunctional environments.

typing this against a time clock. remembering last night’s MLK documentary, how afterwards I felt so peaceful and quiet. I wish I would have had off yesterday to observe this better. crazy how 1) we had to work on a holiday, 2) MLK was not even mentioned here. PBS served to fill some gaps.

my wife has been in Mexico for what seems like an eternity. thank goodness for at least emails. our communications reach each other every other day or so. from what I can tell she’s having a good time but getting tired of some things, like being a white girl constantly hit on, very little vegan accommodations, etc. she went swimming, too, and her body broke out into hives so bad she almost had to go to the hospital. then in an hour it all died down.

we keep talking about moving. I want to travel and write, and do so many other things with my life besides being here with these half wits and constantly helping to make sense of super basic things for them. but I’m not writing much these days. it’s a strategy. break up common things a bit. then return to them when they pull on you. in the meantime I’m reading, going to two classes at the community college, trying not to freeze to death. I should not complain, I suppose. I’m no longer way up north in NJ or somewhere; there’s not even any snow on the ground here. sure it was only 14 degrees when I went out the door this morning, but . . .

information comes together

the question is, is there other life among us? then, is there life inside us? can you beat it out on a rock in the action of doing laundry? is it beaten out during a board meeting? for me, will there be more breath? or more poems? or will quiet increase? silence increase? numbness increase? suffocation increase?

the anger from this suffering, from this questioning suffering, gets poured into the objects around me as they contain more and more their own history, therefore transfix identities, cities, with me, in the night while I drink tea, while Rudra chronically sneezes in fits, wakes me and I cannot sleep again. while C. is in Mexico and I am all over. pain is all over. joy, knowledge, spreads all over. life is found all over.

and I can be glad knowing I’ve escaped some of the more horrid things so far, but experience your pains in fractions just in hearing them, and go on hearing them in told accounts, what they’ve done to you. I suppose when it comes down to you, I don’t mind. pour in more stories. I will be here.

think that, at work, they, them, are too personal when asking questions outside of ink coverage, when they ask details about what I’ve done with my time outside, and that, only in passing, as if I would lower myself, lower myself to fast food an explanation out so cheaply and risk what? I don’t know. I can feel something not right in it, being “personal” with empty persons – therefore ringing a bell, a roller rink lacing of skates on, of snobbish embellishments, accomplishments, yet still humbled by debts and calls from debt collectors.

what is this wheezing, the deeper you go, the deep down definition? I’m waking up with words outflowing, one of the only things that feels good this hour. and it has been too long. and it has only been right, I can’t force something like this or that, whatever it is, it cannot be explained, not easily.

freakishly, I am spending hours at a time recycling UFO lore and other underground topics that do not widely circulate. um, controversial subject matters, what it means, that feeling you get when you encounter someone by the likes you have never seen on this earth before. tossing and turning in questions, and in new answers, convictions, a stretching of consciousness, the news of the world around me, and so on.

winter blues a war all consuming
fire place bug shot
out onto the carpet
start a
fire when
your eye
not looking
pull your place
down tragedy
someone
is stomping out
lies
as they know them
good intentions
are
coffee pots
free of
third worlds’ karma
you
count carbs
you
can see
he starves
newspaper liver
going bad
toxic spill of ill
intentional poison
face of death
last breath
unbearable
heartbeat
dull to you
you dull to it
misplaced
in glove box
mother
on springer show
disease of
fact / fiction
playing out
“look at me” syndrome
did chicago get
you what you
needed? didn’t
think so
boy I can
easily dream up
some insults
the easiest are
the worst things
believe me not
does not
matter
but I am
going
I am
going
on
new
fuel

. . .

friends, journals, wordpads, excuse me for not being myself lately, extraordinarily quiet, not getting off the ground, empty headed, depressed, under the weather, etc. these things happen, so, no gushing apologies. I am otherwise kept busy and mentally engaged in many different subjects. For instance, I went to see the fine movie: 21 Grams on Friday, and was floored. I am still mourning inside of those stories.

And I am piecing together ideas about the world around me, coming to deeper understandings, perhaps developing a few extra worries (but don’t know if they are unwarranted).

C. is leaving for Mexico in a few days, will be gone for three weeks. This is no small separation. Life will get interesting. Life will get dull.

. . .

It is hard to speak, my God! At all. At all. Man. Man on the moon. Did we leave, desert you there? Man left on a space rock. Robot on Mars, take some shots for us. Bring us back some money, some oil, something. Oh, you’re not coming back? What’s that, you’re hungry? The best we have to offer is we can send you back pictures of cheeseburgers and, well, you can at least imagine you’re a gluttonous alive human American. Life is grand down here with the sheep. Information comes together.

maybe they’re going to hell in a very christian or non-christian way

All the best things come out of being sincere. Something small, out of being sincere, goes a long way. It was a good day to be awake, alive, think things over, and not feel sluggish at all. I did not feel sluggish at all, and did not have to go in. New Year’s perfectly broke up the week – being on a Thursday – and even though I have to go in tomorrow, hey, it’s Friday.

For the first time in a while I’m in a pretty good mood. This owes partially to having gone out into the neighborhood today, and walking to a friend’s house to hang out. It made living here in this place less ordinary. And I’ve really been craving that. He asked me what I did on New Year’s Eve; I answered, nothing really. His sounded fantastic, explaining that they annually light a bon fire in the backyard, write on pieces of paper bad habits they want to get rid of, and throw them in.

This confirmed for me how human beings are so deeply attached to symbolism. Think about that for a bit, all the symbols flying around in the world, from way back when. I will report on this more heftily at a later time.

. . .

Ideas to rock a crowd. Don’t run yourself into the ground. My main idea tonight is that I have to write a private journal, along with a public journal. I have to keep writing on different levels and different styles. I don’t want to be a good writer, I want to be a great writer. Simply do not limit yourself to Live Journal entries. That is just plain silliness and a common mistake, I’m sure.

Who is the who? Who are you talking to? Someone inside myself, perhaps. And I’m trying to write faster, if you haven’t already noticed. Write as if I am talking. I can come along later and edit as I like.

Bees wax. You have to mind yours. What is up for thursday? I have the entire day to write before I go and rock the crowd. I don’t know if this is wise. Where have I come from? DC, the hells, the temples, the jobs, writing big and small, ego filled, tail between legs, etc.

Zac across the hall received some kind of eviction notice because Bank of America, not surprisingly, fucked his shit up. C. Talked with him in the hall, but I could barely here. The cats battled, we returned to watching Angels in America. This thing is at least six hours long, so it will take some time getting through. Fell asleep during, had to go to bed.

. . .

It is all a matter of managing the time to be able to expand the brain, the mind, the soul, etc. I have been thinking about neglect, I mean, how I am neglectful. For example, I could just let the car go. I could never change the oil or any of it, and then I’d be screwed. The engine would blow and I’d be sorry then. My sorry ass would be riding the bus everyday. So things are easy now, driving ten minutes to and fro, but if I were to let the car go, it’d take an hour each way. I bring this up because, by not being “adult” or whatever, I only do the things I want to do and don’t take care of other responsibilities. Yet when I do take care of them, I always feel full of life by the time i’m done, also realizing how easy it was to take care of it, and how quick.

. . .

I put myself on the line when I advertise my hopes and plans.

. . .

I’ve realized something. As you are about to die, the dead are all around you: you may be able to see them, you may not. But they are actually full and willing to pull you in with them. They don’t care, they won’t hesitate. They’ve already crossed. The more you proclaim how miserable you are, that you want to die, that you can almost feel that you won’t live a “full” life, you’re inviting the dead to come and get you right now, at any moment. Don’t insult life that way. Life is just as real as death. Don’t insult death that way. It can’t be all that far away. Try to enjoy this life during your stay in this awful world.

. . .

As I sat at the traffic light, I called out many different parts of me that felt different things. One part feels excited. Another tired. One wanting to go out and “celebrate,” one rebuking me, saying I should stay in. I suppose if I went out now I would experience cold, cold! And it would be lonely and miserable. Better though, than watching tv waiting for a ball to drop. Yes, remember Matt Swasey telling you how he spent his New Year in a field at midnight, staring up into the sky?

. . .

I have gone out. For three minutes only. I walked up the block and back, very slowly, looking at stars, imagining things were better, knowing they could be worse, glad they’re not that bad, as they say when they’re trying to talk you out of something. I could write a strange story about a man on a ledge and people trying to talk him out of it. They’re sending him text messages on his cell phone, and he is taking his time to check them all, and respond. Insanity. How can I possibly justify the new technology? Because I feel I really make it work for me. I don’t know what most others are up to. Maybe they’re going to hell in a very christian or non-christian way. I don’t know, but I care. Other people are different in that way, because I think they stop. It takes too much energy or something. It’s easier to stop caring and say those who do are bleeding heart liberals. Casey was tripping me out with her: “tell them you are anarchist, so anarchist you think the left is right.” Yes, I think people are pushing me these days to start speaking up about things. It’s a blessing in disguise, or not even in disguise. I just have to open my eyes.