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]

On New Years 2010

Another year finished and another year in the making. I meander in my thoughts of my past this time of year, for obvious reasons, and as I've been (finally) getting older, it's amazing to me how much I've forgotten. Years I was in a long term relationship, traveling to distant lands with him, and I barely remember what we did, where we went, who we talked to, how we made love, or when we argued what we argued about. I only remember images of fields extending into mountains, architecture over bridges and streets, and people walking around me always, culturally different yet somehow all seeming the same and sometimes I remember feelings. But I traveled some after that relationship ended, were some of these images from those trips?

If a lifetime can be measured by lovers, it seems a blur of moments with them in city streets, in bedrooms, in hotels, in apartment complexes, spaces of lush color and liquid scenarios. If a lifetime can be measured in accomplishments, I have no idea what I've accomplished for how many years to this eve of another coming, as I'm at an all time low. Perhaps, there are better things to measure the years with. Like how many times you've seen the ocean.

If someone would tell me, after I say something of my life to them, that I've been through a lot- and maybe I have- it would be hard to discern in my face, as when I look in the mirror I see someone 10 yrs younger, rough nonetheless, but not through the gentle severity of age, but of madness, an ageless kind of rough underlying in the skin of someone who's large eyes are that of an animal in its prime, free and wild.

I know that when I'm serving how many strangers their champagne as the ball drops, drunk and silly, I'll be thinking about playing video games with my brothers, or firecrackers in the street high in the mountains, or being strung out and in a spanish styled town with movement towards Mexico. Some of my past new years, but I can't remember all of them. I can't remember all of them. I try, but can't. You should never have to try too hard. I can't remember all of them.

I remember last new year's eve, being too drunk to drive home, no friends to drive me, and laying in my car in a stupor, eventually resting, until the sun rose on new years day.

on the lasting impressions of break downs

While he was going down I me, I started reminiscing on a trip I had to Santa Barbara. I'm not sure why. My car broke down in front of these amazing redwoods making waiting for triple A not too bad.

If you haven't been, it's really like those stupid New Moon Movies. It's worth going.

Instead of getting soft, which normally happens when I start thinking of other things- which can happen a lot this days while engaged in activities like that, I was only getting harder. Which I thought was kinda funny.

I love guys that love to suck dick. Particularly those that love to suck my dick. You can tell when a guy just loves to suck dick, any dick. Usually it's bad dick sucking. It's because they somehow don't realize that every dick is different. But as soon as you realize it, you realize every dick isn't worth loving. Just my dick. I'm just joking. Really, it's not about the dick. It's about who someone is. The dick is the extension of who someone is. When someone has your dick in your mouth, really they have you entirely in their mouth. People think it's the dicksucker that's the submissive one. But really it's you who is in them and at their whim. But the game between you who's dick is getting suck and feeling like he's the one in control and the the one's sucking your dick assuming the submissive role but really being in control... this is the power play of identity which makes the whole thing interesting.
–

“Have you ever been to Vermont in fall?” he said to me once while we were taking a walk to a diner to grab some food.

“No, I haven't”

“It's the most beautiful thing.”

Then he kicked a crushed can that was on the sidewalk into the street upon which a speeding car ran over and spun on for a little bit. The car nearly crashed, I thought with my eyebrows raised. Looking back at him at what he done, I saw his face untouched by any incident. I smiled.

“I don't know why but I can't get the thought of those falling orange leaves out of my mind when I'm around you.”

I innocently reached for his hand.