on pool parties

Black night sky and moving lines of highway and building lights. It takes a lot of this to get back home here in LA. I like watching all the lines, of the horizon, of the architecture of the highway, as well as the highway itself. It makes me feel like I'm going somewhere.

Going to the party and seeing these friends I've met now years ago, reminded me again how I can't quite remember what the hell I was and how I ended up the way I am now. Bottles of beer and other liquor piling up by the trash cans. The grill fired was around the corner. Straight people on the other side of the pool, and the gays on this corner, none of them swimming except for a few, one including me. I didn't dive, I sort of slipped in from the side and sank as I always do deeply to the shallow bottom, and it brought me back even further to those days in my childhood and in the river swimming with the cousins and I'd lay there at the bottom my body unable to stay afloat and I'd be peacefully enjoying the odd silence and blurry surroundings.

This guy I use to see that same amount of time years ago, was there and would stare and chat nothing important to me then move gestures elsewhere only to return to me in brushes of touches that seemed to be both buddy-like and entirely more. My eyes would only partially roll unnoticed as I returned the same touches. He had just broken up with someone, he told me. And I had to cut it off with someone else I was seeing recently. I was a bit concerned of what two guys in these predicaments would do. We ended up on the couch later with their friends all around watching a ridiculously large tv playing a sentimental movie. We sat together like we did those years ago as if those years had never passed. His arm was around me and my head on his shoulder, or perhaps his pec. I was thinking about how bored I was hanging out with these same friends from years ago, and how bored I was now. And I was thinking about doing this guy I used to see that same amount of time years ago, knowing that I probably never will again.

This crazy little dog was running aimlessly around all the guys. It didn't know who was who I think, or he wanted to know those of us that he didn't know. He was doing all that much to get to know us, really just running around. There are animals that are just so excited they can't do anything else but run around. I wonder what that is like.

The string of lights of traffic close to our exit was perplexing. I was glad my friend drove. He is a good quiet guy, albeit outspoken at times. Particularly when drunk. We left in part to him saying it felt intrusive to be there- meaning the party host's place, where we all ended up around the tv, as one host was already sleeping in the bedroom and the other of partner ready to doze off- was a statement I liked. He was a polite, considerate guy.

When I got home I texted the guy that I recently cut it off with. He said he was busy, so I proceeded to clean my place and went online to potentially meet the guy of my dreams and/or a guy to hook up with. All this anxiety with the guy of years ago got me horny. I msged a few guys and got a couple msgs from other guys, but I tend to know that I'll never get anywhere with these things. It's like driving, I think, I just like to motion and lines. Makes me feel like I'm going somewhere, even though I may not be going anywhere, new anyway.

on being forthright

from 6/8/2006

let me be forthright

Afterward
the commentary of a new day
as an assualt on all sides from media
and media and media and the information
hear the delay
the cold reality of broken synapses
am I feeling?
or am I not working?

It's as if I've bled myself to death for more than a century
and being filled up against my will
what I want is not what I want
and what I want is somehow so deep.

I am an iconoclast
I am the sundry usage of inefficent means
I am one of those leftover from ideology.

in the morning sunrise that I have ever seen
or the cracking of someone's smile
that plays like an advertisement
you'd have no idea the multitude of convictions
that place upon all of us
the need to be subjective
(isn't transcendence no longer vital?)
yet I am rendered confused and purposeless

I chuckle at the persistence of others
yet feel so oddly in debt
for the tragedy of my spirit
mirrors the triumph of these lives
and the continuance of blasphemy
that seems to fuel the motion
of progress
of antinomy.

I decided recently, after seeing a movie
that motion is more blessed in the dream world
with the lucidity of no gravity

see what I mean?

I perish with every incongruent breath
and breathe a sigh with every perishing
I think I laugh when you're not looking
which means I must be laughing most of the time...

for while my image is tainted by society
my base, past the inclusion of anonymity
savors the security of incompleteness
even while my desires yearn for your approval.

on self preservation

Break up line for the depraved:

[along the lines of “I've done just fine without you”]

“My life sucks the same whether you're in it and out, so what's the point?”

Once the phone has hung up, it's hard know just what happened.

–

Did he really just say that? Or not say anything?

After years of therapy, maybe they're wrong and I am just the monster I seem to think I am.

And maybe I just need another monster and i'll be just fine.

–

In my dilapidated little apartment, there's something I tolerate that so many others can't.

It's myself.

It's quite funny to find that actually I tolerate myself quite well.

–

Somewhere out there there are writings that talk about how only out of repetition can the new arise. Every revolution had failed attempts prior. And every revolution has been a failure, really, as well as a triumph. What if everything was a triumph? Still there is propulsion towards repeating the triumph. There's a propulsion in repeating everything, but every repetition is actually different. The new is in between the repetition. Indiscernible many times. I don't know for sure, but I think I find hope in the indiscernible.

–

When someone tells me you could have told me earlier, my thoughts is that there is never a right time to tell someone that what they're doing is stupid and hurtful. Not only are they telling you that it's actually your fault for not telling them earlier, it also is a way to say it is therefore permissible for them to continue on their stupid and hurtful ways.

It's absolutely ridiculous that because you're the one who is utterly of the most attractive that I have ever held in my arms, that I put up with your stupid and hurtful ways.

I often think I'm getting too old for these things. But I find that I'm never too old from taking a walk to get away from you and everybody else.

on hook up sites part 1

Things I really want to write on a hook up site profile but probably never will:

damn, some of you really need to get whatever it is up your ass out of there, and once you do you really need to fuck yourself really, really hard.

i really just like dicks around 6 inches. seriously.

holy shit? where am i?

looking for a guy that actually communicates who i can also fuck really, really hard every once in a while. 

i just want to cuddle.

for those guys that say, not into playing games.... let me just say a few things about playing games: people play games even when you don't think they are because ultimately guys don't know what they want, and in trying to figure that out, will throw a lot of aimless txts/msgs, phone calls, et. al. to elicit responses to appease their underlying need for attention and confirmation of involvement in another's life. what you don't know is you need the same attention and confirmation and undoubtedly don't know what you want and end up playing the same games. so get whatever it is up your ass, and once you do fuck yourself really, really hard. 

most people bore me, so drama is ok.

into guys that read.

i'd like someone to admit they actually want more than fb's [fuck buddies] and "friends" yet feel inadequate in their own skin and lives to actually "see" somebody and be in a relationship. You're the guy I want to fuck, really hard.

i'm a masc guy but not into sports. i don't feel i have to be into sports and that horrific media driven industry that contributes to the vapidity of contemporary society to prove that i'm a masc guy. And no i don't believe your pansy ass is really into sports.

taking 20 minutes or a day to get back to someone doesn't make anyone feel better or attractive.

i'm a non-white, older, short guy with a small dick and average body, who is poor and depressed most of the time looking for action and fun times. Not into games or drama.

i'm a vgl guy.

i'm into guys that don't like me for who I am.

on what someone else is thinking

I can't pretend to know what someone is thinking. I look at someone and know that the potential of thoughts are immense. The idea of mind reading is totally off. The multitude of thoughts that go through a single mind are rarely coherent enough to capture, the mind isn't like a book, nor is it like it movie. It is perhaps more like a painting where you can't see the whole painting, and a painting that shifts endlessly.

To make matters worse, a person can be thinking one thing and completely act on some complete other impetus... isn't it already too much to think about the unconscious?

For that reason it is difficult to act on what one does solely. Forget about the unconscious (almost easily done), and already isn't it to much to about what one actually does? Afterall, people's behavior is already perplexing, many times devoid of any practical reason whatsoever...

So when someone doesn't tell you something, isn't it utterly perplexing in it's own right? There's no act to think about, it's what he's not doing, and being that even when someone is doing something he's not doing an infinite amount of other things... you can't read his mind, so you can only make guesses into what could be a nebulous of potential thoughts...

It's not enough just to do you're own thing though. It's not enough to just ignore him and see if he comes around to explain. I've learned better, people just don't come around. Ok that's not true, i've experienced instances where guys have come around years later... nonetheless the situation is as they say, the other takes the form of him, it's the impenetrable Other, it's the big fat question mark on the face of anyone you've ever known, that is, when you're honest to finally admit that you've made stories up about people, that you don't really know them (how often do you hear of someone you know do a 180 in personality and up and do something you never thought they'd do?). And when it's him- not some random person walking down the block, or the cashier person from whatever store, or a coworker you could give two shits about- when it's a potential him, not just some potential boyfriend, but just the potential of a really cool friend, or some cathartic incarnation of a sexual fantasy: to ignore him, to do your thing just isn't possible. At that point, some inner need in yourself, your own unconscious is what you must contend with...

The solution to this becomes a single solution for far too many things: deliberate. If you can't read his mind, and can't really know why about anything about him, why bother? On the other hand if you can't stop thinking about him, why try to stop? Or as others continue... it becomes about yourself, you must think about yourself and why you want to know, etc... but...

Ultimately there is never really anything to be done. Any imperative on your part means that desire is in place. Desire is never a justification for anything, although it is a means... for an unspecified potential happening/becoming. Being unspecified and potential more than eliminates desire from the picture, it eliminates the picture itself. With all the talk of having dreams and picturing in your mind what you want, is it possible for any of us to live and do things without a picture in mind? It is actually, we just don't think so. Afterall, without anything to be done, what kind of life is there to live?

So really let me just say what's on my mind: whatever he's really thinking, it's probably meaningless and pointless, and 9 times out of 10 not really anything of any real and/or substantial value.

on keeping it together

I might meet someone amazing
have an amazing time with him

and by the time we've said good bye for the night

we have already had years together

and he has already left me for someone else

Aren't there things too easy to be said about me?

Who has friends anymore who are actually there for them

when none of us are actually here?

Left to the confines of spaces defined by computer and telephone and tv screens

left to the confines of space delineated by excessive information that we can't empirically confirm

we've already left before we could ever meet

How can I care about being happy

When there's still so much I don't understand

I was dancing in the middle of the industrial district

and I realized the dirty site of production-

the underbelly of the glossy products of our confines,

are just as startling empty and sublime

like the mountains of the guangdong province of china

I may still feel fucking lonely

but I am more “of the world” than many

beyond the confines more than many
afterall I have almost nothing to do with anything

and my worst fear already became my reality

I am singular

I can't argue with jesus, or buddha, my neighbor, or you

We're all absolutely correct
There is something in the lack of presence

so now can I just get a good night's rest?

on sound 2

I kept dreaming about you

and eventually I gave up

not about the way you meant something

but in the way you were watching me in my dreams

I was holding you down, face toward the floor

cheek to the ground

mouth a bit ajar

how could it be you were watching me in that position?

One hand was against your neck

the other on your lower back

I was in you

and I wanted to be forever

–

People tell me

You should have whatever you want

but there's nothing to have

that won't go away later

Do they not think about what happens afterward?

–

I always wanted to use the word precipice

so let me use it now:

upon the precipice

was the beauty of letting go

and in it

a loosely rendered sketch

of the likeness of a storm

without sound

on patience

Convalesce

and you may never see the light

Live your life dreaming

and you may never make it out alive

It doesn't matter if you really live your life

because so much of it isn't really lived

but why is it only when you're terminally ill

do you grasp life most fully?

–

Passion and compassion

are two ends of a dialectic

Where love becomes and hate becomes love

I don't want to believe it

but is indifference really the synthesis?

is indifference really the synthesis?

–

When we learn

that the one answer the fundamentalists actually have

is the one that truly terrorizes us

May be the only time

when I believe in love again

oh let me count the ways

on sound

An amazing bar scene, plush with purple and geometric shapes. Hanging chandeliers of pearlescent globs. It shifts to a warehouse club. It shifts again to the beach in very early morning. Damien looks with wonder. It's hard to recall which is which. Jared was always close by. Sometimes close to him, sometimes not.

“Dumb motherfucker. Why you acting all stupid. He don't care about you.”

He can't shut up. Damien shoved him hard against the plush purple walls. It's the only way to do it.

That agent should have cared about him. Damien's exactly what he represents. What did he find wrong? He starting making out with Jared. Middle of the Dancefloor. Yes, it shifted. Middle of the Dancefloor. Seemed like the go-go's joined. Seemed a dance routine broke out in the middle. Seemed a circle formed in the middle while they were working out. A gigantic beam of light in the center. Everybody was looking. But they kept making out. They were that kind of couple. Except they weren't a couple.

“Look, Jared, you just don't know how long I've been like this. I hear things and it doesn't reach me. My eyes blink, it doesn't register.”

“It's because you only think about the negative. Only that seems to register. That's your fucking problem.”

“Whatever dude. Whatever. Not even that registers.”

“Then what does motherfucker?”

“It's when people say nothing, that's what registers”

The ocean was saying a lot. It was saying, jesus christ we came a long way to hit the shores before fuckin homos arguing about nothing that's important. To them of course it sounded like the ocean how it usually does. It was pretty. Like a sea shell. Which have we heard first, the shell or the ocean?

Jared didn't say anything for a while.

On things I want part 1

I want someone that I can have good AND bad sex with.

I want humanitarians to know that when it comes to Africa, specifically the congo, or the aborigines as another example, they really don't care as much as subjected muslim women, haiti, rape victims in america, or putting pressure on chinese government's poor human rights practices and I want them to admit it.

I want to talk to someone that is inspiring and not boring.

I want to talk to someone who, when going off about shit and is completely snorefest boring about it, is someone who I can say you are boring me to tears and they don't get offended and instead start saying things more interesting.

I want to take a shower with just a candle and the unnatural blue light of my ipod speakers and the crack of the door showing light of the day outside as a vertical line. Again.

I want to know what exactly is causing these massive horrible headaches I have; is it because I didn't eat enough, because I didn't produce enough melatonin last night, because I jack off too much, blood loss from an internal wound I don't know about, sinusitis(as it usually is and to which I'm powerless), or because of stress? Because, for instance, if I knew it was a brain tumor I could now live my life without having to think about what I'll have to do when I'm 50. In fact i'll just have to think about the next 3 years max, and that would actually give me great peace.

I want to be black and asian so that when I hear someone say they're not into blacks and asians, I can whip out my ginormous black asian uncut cock, make them suck on it for an hour, then fuck them super hard, no matter where we're at: target, at a bar, a nice restaurant... In fact, i'd be a super hero so that every time I hear I'm not into blacks and asians I can come out of no where like a bat outta hell and fuck the living daylights outta of these people, male or female. And when the cops come I'd fuck all their racist asses too, even the latino ones. And they'll each like it, even love it and want more, and when they beg for more I'll say I thought you didn't like blacks or asians.

I want someone to tell me I'm ok being black and asian, that I'm an ok guy. And give me a hug. (even though I'm not black and asian)

I want to be with a someone black and asian, except he wouldn't have a ginormous cock. It would be average size. I like average size dicks.

I want to tell people it's completely ok to give up, that in fact sometimes it's completely necessary.

I want to meet mariko mori and zhang huan, even though they probably don't even like each other's work, and tell them they're entirely amazing but entirely insane and how I love that and how I am too and how we need to become a threesome, to which they will decline respectfully, although I know it's because i'm not good enough for them, to whom I'll reply, it's ok, and it's because I know that if I live longer than the next few years (ie not have a brain tumor) I'll become even more significant than they in my artistic practice, with smaller budgets.

I want an ipad, to show up at one of my lovers place who was of the first I know to get one, and say fuck you.

I want to be able to get that beautiful, tall, muscular, top, late 20's/early 30's white boy who is both all american looking yet edgy with tattoos who will be crazy about me and want to fuck me all the time and when I allow him it'll be passionate and lovingly and dirty all at the same time and i'll somehow be ok with liking what everyone else wants in this instance.

I want to watch Der Ring, preferably with a harshly minimalist set and costume design that employs high power special effects where things are swirling magnificently which is what I think goes well with Wagner.

I want to have the patience and intelligence to be able to watch Der Ring the whole way through without falling asleep.

I want to be able to sing immeasurably well with a 5 octave range in pure tones.

I want to sleep deeply and dream about being among that which truly loves me and be flying with them somewhere, like high mountains that meet the clouds and have gushing waterfalls throughout them.

I want someone to finally tell me I'm crazy and selfish and self-absorbed and think too much and melodramatic and pointlessly useless and going no where and idiotic and careless and douchey and talentless and not great looking and just want attention and hopeless and lazy and unlovable all at once so I can say fuck off you're wrong because if you were right (about any 5 or all) I'd be a lot better off.

on lasting

I've taken time to realize
that the current state of affairs
is the dream of anarchy.

This is not your family
they are a self-imposed extension
of your ego
and i want to kill them all...

not exactly.

But I wouldn't mind if they saw
that the sun and the rain
bear down on all of us.

I don't care about returning to the earth
many things are inevitable.

If the world affords me things
How can I not take?

If I want more
how can I be happy with what I have?

You disappoint me.

How are you to know
I can save you?
I have answers
that you don't want to use.
I have love for you
that you do not understand

A corrupted world
means integrity must mean something.

The last vestige for peace
is always a dream of the future.

[9/4/08]