I sit and wait for some bolt of inspiration to jar my fingers into writing descriptions of unknown planets, vast unknown stretches of universe and two characters reaching the end of their limits while I pile on the misery. I wait while refreshing my demonoid account so that I may pirate the new comics of Wednesday. I have no job which means no money, well I have some money but no money for that. Which I think is ok, but I guess the point of this is that I have a strong desire to look at sequential art and stories. Its burning my mind. I love comic books, I love them and I can not get enough of them. To me they are inspirational a fine meld of story telling and imagery. The new mythologies of our time teaching us of morals, integrity, metaphors of our government, wars and social politics. I suppose I can be criticized for my "low brow" approach to literature. I welcome that. Mostly because the ones criticizing lack any education and experience in the matter of comic books. Many of them just think its a bunch of colorful super powered ambiguous men and woman posturing themselves in epic running or flying sequences. Yes, yes there are those, and I can't help but also love these particular stories. Again its our mythology, our cave paintings and illuminated text. Its our new norse,greek and roman gods teaching us.
Im noticing Im going nowhere with this particular rant. Im sitting and waiting for free comics. I love them, they inspire me. I love reading about fantastical worlds, seedy cities and domestic disputes of identity. Maybe it the escapist in me. I just feel like I belong in the pages, in the stills, in the white borders. I feel more in touch with the men and woman of Marvel, DC, Image, DarkHorse, IDW, Boom.

I want to mean something to you. I am terribly afraid of this world. Its not the world I had envisioned as a boy. Love is a work of fiction. Hate is engineered. Hate is a locomotive with a wild eyed Casey Jones at the helm screaming for more coal.

Ink

Last night I watched a film by the name of "Ink." EJD and I went out on a limb last evening and steered away from the Documentary project that she has been working on for the past 5 months or so. I saw scary light bulb eyes and read the back "The Next IT movie" was written in bold and followed by other various citations of "Donnie Darko probably other "indie" fantasy title...blah blah blah, I quite frankly don't remember. Either way we decided to grab it, for some reason holding it made me feel like I was about to watch MirrorMask or something of fantastical dreamworlds where good and evil vie for souls or control of humanity and that nature. Well it was just that. I thought it was a solid film based on the plot of Two groups of folks come to us while we sleep. One group dressed sharply from Abercrombie or AE gives us nice dreams filled with puppies, chocolate, our dead loved ones and being rockstars. While DEVO comes and gives us all of those I'm drowning, spitting out teeth, plastic bag over the head, sweaty nightmares.Everyone knows martial arts too! Ah but there is a third party; a loan individual shows up looking like a human Skeksi and kidnaps our psuedo-main character young girl in the dream realm placing her in a coma. She is needed for a sacrifice to allow his transition into DEVO and shed this awful dark crystal guise! So mad mad dash for AE models to bring her estranged dad to coma girls bedside to help wake her up.

I'm making fun of this and I don't know why. I really liked this film. The visuals were solid for an "indie film" and the plot left a lot of room for your own imagination to explore this dream world/war thing going on along with various other ideas and what roles people played in the mythos of the movie. Thick commentary on "what is important" or maybe exploring some sin action by giving examples of greed, vanity and pride. It through redemption in there of course, and how important it can be to trust in yourself and not loose sight of moral high grounds. Love. .

I think I like the fact of being treated like I am an idiot. Its almost like being a sleeper agent that gets woken up at particular times to do the horrible shit that no one would ever expect. I like that. I like knowing that people are very predictable and ultimately weak. I have given into my weaknesses far too long and because of that people have been used too a sort of comfort of me failing or letting things play out in their favor. Often I am said that I am general and cryptic. I also enjoy this, I like to give the person a chance at thinking about what they are doing wrong and why they are doing it. I also see it as a way for them to have that "grace period" before I actually act.

I have no idea what I am writing about but writing is what I will do right now. I find that it is bringing me great joy. I have no idea why really, maybe it cathartic or maybe I can get some of those crazy ideas out of my head. Either way its nice.

So...I am right, and it pains me to know that I will be fought until the end times comes. I will be argued with and debated until actual events transpire for the truth to be seen. When that happens I am almost positive I will end in a shameful position, blood drenched and shivering in the winter night. I can feel the energy in my chest begging to be free. Holding my heart hostage and forcing my blood to pump at a uncontrollable levels like a factory that missed its deadline. I will force myself to smile and put on that happy face, but we all know its a lie. We all know that I am always watching and suspecting. We all know that I pay attention to the exits and the entrances the motions and speech. We all know that I am forever watching.

Thank you Mr Lucas for allowing others to ruin your ruination Part 1

I tried to give Clone Wars a shot. What can I say? I'm a sucker for a Mandalore. Basically, its as flat as the new movies. Clunky plot direction and non believable situations and poor dialog. I dont understand how a group called Death Watch plans to take over Mandalore when a group of 8 can't beat Obi Wan. Now the series makes Obi Wan semi-more badass than the movies do but come on the first three movies don't lead to Sir Alec at all now do they? Dutchess throws rock at Death Watch Mando, instead of shooting Obi in the face he turns to blast her, gets sweeped...dumb. Dutchess sets off alarm, instead of one Mando guard going to "check it out" both leave their post at elaborate jedi death machine so they can both check it out while Dutchess frees Obi from ore smashing device... Give me back my fucking Ewoks right the fuck now.

Mey

The absence of any action to me is far better than action. Through out my life I made it a point to avoid, to deny and to want to d anything constructive or productive with my time. Wasted away with long hours of video game play and jobs that end in no where but loneliness and alcoholism. I stood in bathrooms, basements, apartments staring at my surroundings and hating every inch of the walls, hating every inch of myself. I leave to be swept up in the hatred of my fellow man and woman. I hate with all of my soul and being. The emptiness they promote and project on this world. So I come back in, feeling defeated and alone, I sit in front of the computer or mirror or empty room staring at a hazy reflection and blotting out most of the outside world. I fear everything that has to do with me doing anything else but sitting and waiting for death. I am afraid to take risks, to go to school, to date, to love, to hate, to do anything but sit and click buttons for hours on end. I am terrified of me doing anything. I have no idea what to do with myself. My reality sound negative but it is truth, I do not hide from it or push it away. I live with it. I live with guilt and disgust. I live with inaction. I live with no motivation and I live with myself.

There on the horizon. See it?

I am agitated today. I wish to sell my car and travel to see the love. I have been waiting for this moment for about seven years. The financial freedom I trapped myself into so many years ago. Debt has always been this huge weight on me, it has consumed most of my life and has kept me from what I feel is living. Since I have a hard time creating things or rather keep myself from creating things, I have always had a longing for travel. To me...travel is easy, see a new place, walk a new street, become a stranger. I like that idea, a stranger without feeling alienated from my family and friends. A stranger that I choose to be, a nameless faceless being walking the emptiness with the other numbers. I have been agitated mostly since I have came home. I like Maryland a lot and I like the three to five people I hang out with...My family on the other hand makes me the most sad at times. They are people with wants and desires I can't get behind, mostly because it is the pursuit of excess, I am in the pursuit of nothingness, emptiness, freedom. To have nothing is to be free. Although I do love the woman I chose to be with and I suppose in some way that can be seen as a possession. But I would hope that she would journey with me. See the sites, taste the dew in lush meadows, kiss clouds, smell far off oceans and feel the sun underneath some new sky. Its what I want and Im working for it. I dont care what they say or think, but I want it now, Ive wanted it then and I want it now. Im going for it. Im going for it.

Eye

What people fail to realize is that we are all apart of the same whole. We are a superorganism. We forget that our actions forever effect the way we are perceived by our peers. We forget how our actions, words and desires alter courses of life. We are responsible for each other. We are responsible for our actions. This life is give and take.

Mecca

I have nothing to say and no reason to type. I'm starved for inspiration and I keep looking for that big meal up ahead. Maybe I order in or rummage the old cupboard. I feel like there will be this day of enlightenment where I will have enough of being this lurching machine scratching at every root and pulling up every rock to discover whats underneath. I put myself in my home plot but secretly I want to return to the arms of the rust monster. I like the way it peels my layers away exposing me, misfired wires and open gears. It gnaws on my joints and pulls at my wires.

It seems that I wish myself to not be comfortable ever. The comforts of friends and family. The comforts of home. I don't want it. I suppose I want to start my own comfort zone. One where I make the rules, I make the decisions or have a say in them. I am making steps in freeing myself of the burdens I have placed some years ago. I hope in the matter of months I can at least deal with the physical manifestations of my insecurities. My mind on the other hand is a different story all together. This I feel will take some amount of deprogramming. I must be willful I must be strong.

Weeee OHHHHHH

I don't feel like I'm at home anywhere. A lack of closeness. A lack of solidity in my surroundings. Everything feels its in passing. A lack of permanence. One foot out the door. Clothes in plastic bags. Trunk is full. A sense of detachment is present in all things. I want to find home. I want to find the bed to lie in. I want the warm breath on my neck. The hot meals. Less feeling of replacement. Less feeling of nothing.

An ocean of towns and cityscapes. I am set adrift on rivers of black. Places and people on their islands. I float by and we wave. A welcoming smile and a beckoning call for fleeting moments on my pontoon. I know the asphalt calls me. I know the lights guide me through the fog. I want the land. I want to stake my claim and burn my raft for firewood. Root myself next to the parking garages, streetlamps, and skyscrapers.

?

Forgettable.
Simply forgettable.
Remember to forget.
Burn.
Roaring Blaze.
Set fire to it all.
Fall.
Loose footing.
Scraped knees,broken ankles.

I'm Sleeping 3 hours a night Screaming

The bellow of the giant next door to me keeps me tossing.
My mind is a landscape of anxiety and serenity.
The cool calm breeze in the fields.
Tall trees and stoic mountains.
Interrupted with the effigy. The burning man, The sacrificial Lamb
The mountains ooze molten earth.
The breeze brings the smell of ash and the soot stains my face.
My bed, was once a welcoming friend.
I now see that there is no salvation there. No hope for rest or solitude.
I can see the dull glow in the seams of the mattress and box springs
This is not my home.

Why don't you get another job?

My mind falls flat on the pavement when I stare at the screen. Thoughts of others and lives and losses flood my mind. A suggestion, a call for help. A weight on my chest for months now. I keep wondering what I did wrong or what it was I could have did right or different. Stand straight, eyes forward, nails are clean. Falling in line. More like falling. I lost sleep some years ago and I wish I could find it. Sometimes I hope it will come back to the stoop looking for food. Then we could rekindle our lost friendship. Its hard to let go. Its hard to give up. Its hard to be someone you are not. Its hard to take a loss. I'm not dead yet. My heart still beats. I have work, I have my books. I have my hands. My hands have never let me down. They are strong. They are happy to hold the hammer, the knife, the gun. They are happy with these tools. We become proficient in our 40 hour a week life. We become needed, we become loved. That was my flaw, I forgot I was at work, its all a job.

Quotes

"An unhappiness that clung to her the way a bad dream clings to a rumpled pillowcase."

February 2nd of 20??

Infant wounds healed by the Mother. A lover taught to clutch me at her bosom. Take these scars with your love. Hate those who reaped my soul, Burn the cities. Create a new world for me to discover with childlike eyes. Wander and explore with me. Lead on to adventure. Help me take back what is mine.

6/09

Lacerate me.
Open Me up for the World to taste.
Let the night air quench its Thirst
Hold my head close
Tell me it's soon
Tell me you will go on
Tell me you love me

Its Hot

I don't feel well. I have a weight on my chest and back today. My brow is heavy with the longing of answers. I can feel falsehoods concocted. I can feel the lies seeping through the cracks. Today is a day of deceit. Today my paranoia burns me, the flaking skin, the smell of burnt hair and charred flesh. The smooth scars. I can feel the thickness under the fingertips. 3rd degree no doubt. They go deep, almost to the bone. Nerves miss fire. Its becoming hard to feel.

Sit with me.

I have always wanted those that I felt special,to join me in the alienation we have been forced into by ourselves or the ones we sought to be. Instead I have become alienated from those I wish to be a part of. By my own actions or theirs I feel like the old dog begging for scraps. I give myself to them willingly only to be cut from throat to groin and left for the buzzards. I have scars from the stitches. I often pick myself back up. I wander the desert in search of the caravan , the oasis, the humble abode for me to rest and seek camaraderie. I have forgotten again, like an Alzheimer's patient. Solitude has always been my one true ally.

?

I wrestle with my mind often. Thoughts of disease, broken bodies, tormented smiles, lonely conversations. I welcome others into it. A dying machine waiting for the last of its pistons to seize. A cargo hold filled with the dead, hauling bodies to the oblivion of the stars. The heavens speak. They speak clearly and they call for us all to return to the dust. I welcome this.

My four friends.

Surely I jest. Alone in the room speaking to myself. I hear the echo. I can feel my reflection. The windows are covered with plywood. Recycled air and moldy bread. The water tastes old. Rust, or is that the taste of blood in my mouth. My muscles are tight, the walls are falling apart. My knuckles are bear and broken. Dried blood runs on my hands and forearms. I set the pace for my self destruction. My body, the hammer, this room, the anvil, my mind, the steel. I will spend a lifetime to forge a weapon. I will spend a lifetime alone.

What is it about me that makes it so easy to lie to? So easy to hide and keep things from? The books I've read, movies, stories and music have pointed to truth as being the best possible outcome for any situation. I agreed. Ive loved and lost. Listened and spoke to. Traveled and stayed put. The falsities have followed me to everywhere. Why? Why is it that my strong moral base and character is championed and sought out by those to falsify their life? NOSH NOSH NOSH NOSH NOSH NOSH.

This was going nowhere but down. Allow me to pep it up. How? Well lets see where we go.

I understand the borders of the land, the open hand and the sky so grand.
What I fail to see, is why we think we are free or the real strangers to me.
Hand in the front,Knife in the back
Quite a cowardly attack
While I have fallen at every blow
I chose to stand right back up and grow.
Or is that true?
Do I fail to see the stranger in you?
Am I a fool for camaraderie?
A bro grab or false honesty?
I seek the truths in all your eyes.
I'll do my best to take everything in stride.

Hey ho lets go.
My father has told me that going back to Montana may not be a bad idea. He has asked me to work for a few months and get things all caught and see where I am at. He is a wise man, but I can't help to think that he is calloused, cold...I feel that my mother may have hurt him a lot more than he is willing to admit. While traveling in the automobile and shared with me in detail the story of my youth in which I remember vaguely traveling at 3:30 looking for my mother. I will leave out said details for they are of my ears. But I must say, I empathized with my father. He hoped that mother would have changed and wanted the best for her Im sure, but of course there are 2 sides to every story and I know my mother thought of him as controlling and over bearing. This I can see and also relate...but, for a mother of 2 to think it was a good idea to gallivant around town several nights a week with her lady friends (one of which died, asphyxiation on her own vomit) while he blue collar husband stayed home to mind the kids worried to death whether she would make it home I feel is wrong. Also...this kind of sat with me. "Your mother talked a big talk she was saying this and that about lawyers and I only stayed with her for so long because I was worried she was going to take you kids, I didn't want that, and obviously she didn't want you kids since she made no effort to straighten herself up and try to get you guys, cause she just went back to partying." This of course plays into the insecurities a bit more than I want. But I'll get over it. I always do.