Saturday evening entry

Hey friends,

I have freshly returned from the land of an afternoon nap. Now I am all waked up and walked up to coffee shop, and ignoring the baseball scores, out of sheer spite, also disinterest, and writing this.

Today, while thinking thoughts, I thought about family some, you know, growing up with them, and how I will now, as an adult, put this next book together and not really include them in the various topics enclosed like some bitter son of a bitch who never got over all that. I’m half way there, I guess. I’d rather move on, move further on. And be done with it. Write what others just might be moved by or not expect. We could all use more pleasant surprises in life. But for now, for tonight, for this journal, I’ll ramble on solitaire style, message in a bottle style. Words just fumbling out, football spiraling out of the hand, a beautiful pass. We will provide the football image to replace the world series image. The package arrives to its destination. More experiments with words and reverberations.

It is good to be with friends. Hung out with a bunch last night, playing chess, talking about movies, whatever came to mind. 

Misfits, Danzig, Samhain – on the overhead, here at the coffee shop. Imagine, if in India, you’d go by some little shops, one of which was kicking out “Moribund” or “Halloween.” Well, it was strange enough, when I was there, to hear Madonna’s “Like a Virgin.”

The way things are going these days, writing just sort of happens for me on the weekends, at least more so than on weekdays. Work continues to spiral out of fucking control. Dealing with that production manager has turned into a tremendous task, shall we say. My mind has become somewhat traumatized by it all, and I worry that it’s suffering in ways I’m not sharp enough to pinpoint. Is my body also affected? I waver between Buddhist and Samurai perspectives in these dealings. It is very much a battlefield of head games there.

Maybe I’ve been infected with attention deficit. Would meditation repair my focus and loyalty to reality? Perhaps it would, but this would not help the fact that I don’t really like what I do. And that is, basically, put together stationary packages and answer phones. And that’s exactly what they treat me like…

A customer called and asked for a PDF proof while the manager was out, so I sent it right away. I am chastised for this upon her return, for some stupid reason.

I have to remind myself, Hey man, this is stationary…

. . .

Texas is the reason the president’s dead…

Anyway, back to chess. The King, supposably, is the guy who runs the whole show. Once your opponent gets to him, though, the game’s over.

What’s this mean for anarchism in the sense that there is in that family not a king to be found, yet everything is running anyway? Each player has become a king for themselves. They’ve come into their own power.

On the board, you must make your decisions and move ahead, or move backward. Yes, there can be set backs.

In capitalism, so many of us are mere pawns. The pawns are split in two in the spirit of progression.

I keep playing game after game. Something tells me one of these days I’ll win a game. Something tells me some chess experts out there would tell me to keep it up and not worry about theory so much right now. That’s pretty hard for a guy like me, you know, an eccentric genius. Something tells me my analytical mind is gonna start answering questions and developing its own theories for what is what. Which, really, is quite fun and quite natural.

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original sin cannot find a hotspot in my mind

at a party last night
this woman
introduced herself
asked if it
was alright
that we mulled
over the idea…
what we thought about “sin”

she was wearing
a chain with a cross
immediately
brought on my suspicion

here she
was ultimately
trying to steer
the conversation
in a direction
which to her
was “godly”
therefore
“worthy”
and not
“pointless”
“base”
“sinful”

the gist:
what do you
sinners
think about sin?

the gist:
us sinners
don’t believe
in sin
which is
why we sin
which is why
to you
it’s all
we seem
to be doing
and why we
do it so freely

with abandon
and a smile

open discussion!

free thinking!

“if you say
you don’t believe
in sin
that means to say
you don’t
believe
in christianity…”

um,
bingo!

we do NOT
we do not

. . .

a night
devoid of
any kind
of fist fight

everything
went alright

fairly smooth

did not turn
into harsh feelings

thank god?

. . .

I don’t know if
any of these
notes on atheism
come off
as bitchy

not what I intend

I’ve always felt
attacked and judged
by some of these
christians
the overall culture
the irksome righteousness

and so now I’m seeking
out a way
to counteract

alone time

I don’t
have any
fashion statements
to make

any other
is coincidental

time is
being
filled up
with big city
goodness

which is
why we
moved
to Houston

finally things
fall
into place
for us
to a degree

this is all
accidental

these are
sunday statements
that
replace
the fashion statements
autumn leaves
breezed in
onto the first floor tiles
the holes in these clothes
are natural

I’ve
really really
changed
over time
and I think
anyone from
the past who
knew me
would be surprised
the “damage” that
has been done to
my belief system

I’ve drastically
altered
I think
for the better

these have
all been
changes for
the better

I’ve moved back
however
into some old
rooms of isolation

rooms
that horrify
rooms that I’m
not
a stranger
to

back in the day
one would
mention
to another
that
I am
a nice guy
or whatever
the other devotee
would reply
yes, but he
spends too
much time
by himself

a warning

if you spend
too much
time alone
just where
will it lead?

this same devotee
later
must have spent
some of that alone time himself
time in which
he realized
he was divinely gay

as a two dollar piece

I’ve come into my own
revelations
those of disbelief

if you can be alone
all alone
for awhile
what you find
might really scare you
…at first

the cats
are fighting
like wild beasts
screaming
blood of murder

much on
my mind these days
the idea that
we are without a god
that is all powerful
one that even gives
a damn
what proof is
there otherwise
that we are
looked out after
when you consider
the devastation
wrought by
the tsunamis and hurricanes
and bird flu
from bird to person
to person
and don’t forget war

which side
is god rooting for?

whatever your book
it’s just another book

until it starts
glowing bright red
and shooting incinerating beams
into dense crowds
and floating
from off the table
you’ve
got nothing
to say to me
that would
any longer
sway me
phase me

you’re exactly right
I don’t have faith

I no
longer
have any

there’s just
no proof
and we’ve
been
deluding
each other
all this time

this is what
alone time
has brought

the gift
of a good
revelation

we’re alone
in this mess
to survive
be good peeps
without aid
without any fantastical device
and make due
with what we have

all on our own

no mommy
or daddy’s
hand

kind of
a relief
really

get the
idea down
that idea rattling
around up
in your head
the idea that
has not yet
been put
to words
formulated
you could say
maybe you
should
say

it might
not be possible

you start
out on
an assembly line
that’s like
how you
were born
memorizing
zip codes
on a conveyor belt
for a small wage
a savings miniscule to the touch
nothing tangible
nothing much to show for
the hard work

the idea
that freedom is
out there
somewhere to
be had
it’s
anywhere
to be had

that peace
of mind

that freedom
of speech
and of privacy
the ability
the articulation
and dissemination
of ideas
from a deeper
part of you

it occurs to
this one
writer
that he
has brain damage
or has
slowly
lost his mind
due to the
cancerous internships
over the years
and his writerly
words cease to
make any structural
sense
he mourns the fact
that the only pleasure left
is derived in descriptive
disconnected form

orange peels cannot
return to the devoured orb

. . .

fought not like we used…
not like dogs
when I would
practically put
her on the guillotine
and she would
come at me
in the shower
with a hack saw
or flat head screwdriver

. . .

gigantic purse
to hold the cell phone
ring ring ring ring
gigantic leather purse
like the entire
head of a cow
with a terrible bark
a stephen king movie
of a purse
over her shoulder
(where else could it be?)
barking orders
at military personnel

and they took it well