Wake Up & Dream

Wake up and dream you wasting fuck.  You capitulate visions of supreme joy before you have them.  You resign to a living death sentenced by circumstance.  Dream, you dumb fuck, and don't doubt yourself.  None will see what you see, and if you are too afraid to want something you'll be in fine company.  Except you loathe them, you can't stand to see the breeders and the entitled colonists, the blind and happy haters, the cluckers, the tsk tsk tskers.

You've dreamt big before and by the mercy of god and your sheer pure innocent need you have found love in life.  You've trapsed borders and been honest to lovers.  You've gained friends and cherished strangers.  Go, and go now or you will find no reason to live this life.  It's never been for you.

Get your shit together and make your music.  It started before at Action Discount and it can go again.  You are a blessed and loved child of an enormous and powerful universe.  Don't stop until you can reste easy.

In Memoriam of Nanu Guerrero

I was surely depressed.  I was laying on the floor on a little mat I'd made -- next to my bed -- with the lights out.  It's not clear to me how long exactly I was just laying there or what my thoughts were, but they were interrupted by an opening of my door and the silhouette of tightly curled half african hair.  She flashed me a white smile and pounced on me.  I was sad and her visit was perfect.  It was a moment I'll maybe always remember.  She was pretty, and she smiled.

I told her one night before in conclusion to some bizarre debate, "What's the worst that could happen to us?  We'd die?  We -can't- die; we're young."  She laughed hysterically at that.  I can't remember if she thought I was on acid or I thought she was on acid or either or both of us were or weren't.  I don't think I remember Nanu doing acid.

Ella em munta i va tirar les calces a un costat. Estava xop. Com va lliscar cap avall sobre mi, em vaig sentir una mica de màgia perfecta, que ella sabia com em sentia i que el plaer mutu era una medicina. Així van ser les respiracions i sons que ella va fer.  Mai ejaculat dins d'ella quan fèiem l'amor, però ella es recargolava i em va acariciar fal.lus amb el cony humit magnífic fins que estava buida. Ella era una noia increïble, un regal per a mi, un amant increïble i sempre vaig a recordar els moments en que em sorprendria.


She died with secrets and beauty, and my understanding was rapidly and without much suffering.

Get What You Want; It's All Here

The circus, the banjo, the rattle of cars and hoofs. These seem like a tidy and goodly folk. There's one born every second. See the man with no adult incisors insistent on proving the dentist wrong.

I've tried to will my being through windows, down drains, into skies and across oceans. Usually I end up in a pack of monkeys. It's a jungle out here. My arms are too weak to swing. My back hurts from standing upright.

I wish I could go hang out with some astronomers / astrophysicists. They'd probably fuck my head all the way up. Just seeing the moon sometimes makes me stop in my tracks.

Maybe I'll just go rub my balls with a salve of Rogaine.

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Lovelost

I'm 31.  No longer a child.  I'm certain though, that I would be miserable with a mortgage and a lawn, children and the march into the meaninglessness of late model cars, office politics, and living like a modern american.  I have to be true to myself.  I can't lie to the girl I love.  I don't want that.  If I'm an old man and I'm alone with memories of so many magical romances, so many transcendental experiences, then I am not scared to die alone an old man.  They give you good drugs when you're dying anyway.

Perhaps when I'm 40 I'll feel that the earth is missing my progeny, my genes, and the torch of my soul.  As it stands, I can't see that or feel that way.  I get a life to live.  For me.  If I live it for someone else, maybe it is richer.  They say you get what you give.  I'm just not ready to give up magical thinking and travelling as an adventurer rather than a tourist.  I've been who I am since the defining moment at 14 when I left home forever.  I came back and stayed for periods of my teens, but I was a guest, a visitor in my mother's house, who was a tyrant of a mother, swayed by notions of special roles and pretenses to keep up.  She, I believe, inherited them from her parents and the 50s / 60s, but I am a product of now.  The world is mine now, and I don't want america or her dreams.

I don't want lawns to cut, neighborhoods to modestly brag about, or play any of that farce.  Women make magic, but only when they keep the girl inside them who trusts the universe and me.  They get rarer and rarer as I get older, but I would not starve for magic.  What the fuck do I know, anyway.  I don't have your diplomas, your mortgages, your children, or even a salary right now.  You know what the fuck I know?  There is nothing, NOTHING, more beautiful than moonlight on naked bodies in love.