comcast.

oh good god.
comcast has just hit new york.
after seeing its devastating effect on the west coast a year ago, i can only fear a bigger campaign then verizon could conjur. whats going on?
there's real stuff i could write about.

i never capitalize i-s. when i write papers or use word instead of notepad for the occassional short story that bitch has been tamed to automatically uppercase-size and correct tons of crap for me.

technology.

from my rhodia

tonight:
" i have to remember to listen to piecemaker [cephalic carnage] whenever i'm feeling especially shitty, unloved or stuck at parkchester on the goddamn <6> [& that diamond means express mind you] traffic bullshit. this late at night everything is in hyper despair and the strange colors of burroughs closing in on you- shooting the train further out and away from the heartcore of light pollution. everything is really silent except for my head and my mouth chewing this gum. the girl across from me has nice eyes. my life has been ruined by the textures of a days flow."

my handwriting is also in a style i havent written in for months.
>>>i imagine being choked by someone i love, feeling the noisy neck vertabrae take on a mutant life in their hands. i know this feeling and have yet to understand the physical aspect. what im saying, i guess; is i want you to choke me FOR REAL so i can have a justified cause and effect in the eyes of some sidewalking god. whenever i banish myself into this rutted, carpeted forest of thick synapses- i get this childish need to listen to that song by nirvana [not released on any album-- i dont think ive even had a conversation about nirvana since high school] called "down in the dark." because feeling light and singy while going into the cliched "pit of despair" has been an aspiration since i watched annie and knew ahead of time that her parents, the Mudges were fucking dead.
sing why dont you.

alex trebek does not have a real face.
------------------------------------------|
it feels good to get that off my chest.

if my stomach could cry, it would come out my weephole.

oh im such a failure
i whine
and she tells me the xrays are
fine.

------------------
im on my way. on my way to making things work. everyday i walk out the goddamn door and i think: ah yes, today, to-fucking-day. not looking forward to it as much as knowing
i wont have a chance at today like i did yesterday or will tomorrow.

who am i kissing?
when i lost my main person to kiss, two little girls suddenly trusted me and sometimes when they kiss me i think: "i could cry" and so i make sure the pink in their cheeks is from passion for running and eating and throwing smoothed glass and finding the perfect bug to poke.....
and when i hold their bodies out over the sound, high tide, i let them get sand on their feet. its september and the waters colder but our feet dry, radiating on the concrete.
its warm enough today,
we all understand
about today.


[and its these times i think: PERFECT].

for a girl like you. tails of dead goldfish: monster.

ive been wearing my ipod down more now than ever. at home while writing papes [for reference i didnt miss the r: i call them papes like payps... wait maybe i'll just spell it payps....]

i just have a lot of time on the six and walking.
yesterday i walked sixty blocks downtown.
my friend ian was hiding behind a tree and popped out at me. we decided to go to a bar. i felt bad over his lack of consumption- he had said my salad - in green wrap - had looked "too green."
we were standing around, the music was changing, i was looking at a james dean cutout...
and then i said: "do you want to go to japan" or "DO YOU WANT TO GO TO JAPAN"
and he said: "yeah, why..."
i said: "me too, thats all...."

later i saw mastodon and converge. [sold out] it was pretty good. well mastodon was. my friend bret drove me home, which was nice.

today there was a pool party at my co-op. our style is to bring down a desert, steal as much food as possible, and eat it upstairs with no one being the wiser to our lack of presence. i guess someone noticed, as our camp is not "slick." we smooth over the situation with cookies from this place in the bronx that is...."to die for."

i want to travel again but its just not possible. someone who i like please lets go somewhere remote, okay? fund it... alright? i was dreaming of ameoba records. i was lost in a pile of out of print stuff and had vinyl in my teeth. i had their whole residents collection.....[it is nyuge].

well,
im going to try to see joe lally tuesday. problem is i forget things. the knitting factory. efk. its like ive lived there for years, only difference is now i dont smoke and drink openly on the street. the last part is a complete lie.

doe/doe.

glass breathing to break.

ive been gone
son,
its been minutes
between chewing my tongue
and ripping the webbing underneath
to stick it out farther
and roll the air up
into my throat
causing the lump
i save for a different time.