pb

------inspired by Xip's essay------

i think i started because i was so drained of emotion and felt like i still had something dangerous, something poison in me which needed extraction.

i continued because i liked the scabs.

because i was cold and drunk and boring...somehow razors and pain and oozing made me interesting to myself. human, intricate and mortal.

because, later, i hated everything...
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do you ever sort of wish you could wake up sometime else, someplace else, and as someone else? i'd settle for that, even if it wasn't as Tyler Durden.

i haven't a damn thing to complain about with my life at present, so why this unease, the malaise, this unsettling feeling of barely contained acrimony?

update

few things come even a little close to this mad, maddening love for my pirate, but hearing the smile in her voice when she's excited and twitterpated and giddy with hapPy feelings...well that comes in a close second.

there comes a time in every man's life when he is consumed by the calamitous desire to spend obscene amounts of hard-earned capital on an elegant, sleek, understated, immaculately tailored black suit.

accompany this with a straight-razor shave, a few bottles of embarrassingly expensive champagne, and a somewhat murky, half-suspected desire to explore this rising dark tide of ...something...

...a set of cold, stainless steel...
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i drew little curly-cues in the bricks with me feets, sloshing my way under the thick green trees back to Ryan's place and humming under my breath, wishing i was piggy backing you. stumblefumble, i fell asleep on the selfsame couCh you and i had burgers and greasyfries on. Ms Cleo claimEd your spot, curled in the crook of my arm and shoulder...right where your...
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i feel as if there's some sort of gag, bitter and black, shoved in the mouth of what creativity i was previously able to draw upon. if i knew the how and why of it i'd certainly spare little time getting it fixed.

so, for the time being i'll just use pretty pictures and ripped lyrics in lieu of what i've seem to have, for...
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Tool's idea about my future adopted home, Los Angeles:




nema

Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will.
I sure could use a vacation from this

Bullshit three ring circus sideshow of
Freaks

Here in this hopeless fucking hole we call LA
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any fucking...
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so really, who's got my cheese?

all is well.

i really have to poop.



-pb

such a perfect, lush, full, green, still evening. fireflies by the thousands against the backdrop of colonial homes and vines choking everything with their slow fingers. large, orange, full moon rising over the trees across the river on this the longest day of the year, the summer solstice...and one lonesome boy letting it all wash over him like a tide of the purest deep green...
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fuck it.