In Düsseldorf, I Met A Clown

Sunday.

Gum in my mouth when I wake up, and I don't really ever remember any nights before mornings until a week later. Especially the late-night writing and reading.

It was a good day.

I read.

I wrote.

I spoke.

I thought.

I even went out and about... although I can't remember where. Or did I? No, I don't think I did, in fact. I'm sorry I lied. The days just go on and on, don't they?
I wish I would have planted that apple tree in my backyard. Watered it everyday, snuck into the backyard and looking like a fool, putting water to dry, barren earth. But no, I know! There's 3 little seeds down there, and one day maybe one will be a big tall apple tree and grow big red apples. Red Deliciouses, because the store-bought ones just aren't the same. They have to be homegrown.

Well, it's time to stop wasting time.

Afterparty: Part I

Well, this is fun. Too bad nobody really showed up. They're all somewhere in drawers, filed away safely. And I miss you. Please... Please come to my party. I try to entice with decorations, with paper and pen and book and word and language and English but they are stubborn like me. They won't come to my lovely afterparty. So, what then. I'm left alone with the stupid green pen, it's growing parched every second... second... three seconds. Nope, nothing.

So, this has been one of the most hellish weeks. I can recall other hellish weeks, though. Arizona was. Until I got on a Jeep and remembered how to laugh. I think I forgot again somewhere along the way. The Whole Foods weeks. I could just label it all, no? But I won't. Ah, yes, the Pat redemption week! Sitting by a piano. How lovely.

I'm sorry, you probably understand not a word of this gibberish.

Well, it was just an off, odd, bad week. Horrible, in fact. I wasn't there or present. I can't really put words or phrases to it... It's more like the absence of word, of THOUGHT. So much for my resolutions.

And it's just awful when you find the solution to these problems.

"Go out! Enjoy the world; it's yours!"

"Take some photography."

"Talk with friends."

"Surprise someone."

I can't.

Not without a proxy at least. And I dislike proxies.

So it's as if you've found the solution but can do nothing to carry it out. It's worse than no solution. At least then you can keep your mind occupied with the quest... What is the answer? How do I do this? But when you know, you just can't... Then the chase is done, there's one part left... But no. It cannot be done.

And nothing is incoherent enough to make no sense.

This is absolute foaming garbage. I hate it. All of it.

Please.

Let's make this next week a good one.

Please.

The Task List of Insolence

1) A play on words.

2) The lyrical calendar.

-Complete with the seasons of fruit.

3) A story about the dangers of heedlessness.

-Inspiration: The tale of Daedalus and Icarus.

Odd Girl

In the grocery store

And I do a double take,

Because these faces are nothing more

Than equations:

A nose plus a mouth

Minus familiarity

Multiplied by 6 billion

Subtract a hundred or so

And there's humanity for you.

That's really all

It is.

An equation

That I can plug myself into

And all I get out

Is a single number,

And maybe an "x".

But I can never quite solve it,

Or anyone's, for that matter.

In The Bronx

Maybe one day

I'll just take you with me

You, the one

Who sits at my bed everynight

When I'm tired and

I talk to you.

Yeah.

I'll take you with me

In the Bronx

And I'll rent you

An Apartment to sleep in,

Just so at 3 a.m.

I can dodge drivebys

And I can avoid alleyway walkers

And I can buzz you.

Have to make sure

The apartment accommodates

To this requirement!

Then you'll stir and skew

And sit up in bed,

Wondering who's trying to

Contact you at this ungodly hour.

Oh, it's just me.

You sat at my bed everynight and I

Talked at you until you became

Deaf.

I'm surprised the buzzing awoke you,

Love.

You'll stumble down the stairs,

Maybe take a tumble

At my expense.

I'll drag your weary frame

To the corner of 224th and 225th.

I'll point up at the

Diameter and diameter in the sky.

I'll make sure the lamppost is glowing bright

And there's at least one hobo

On the corner, right?

Then we'll prove ourselves

Absolutely insane,

Kiss the lamppost,

Because you're deaf and God knows we're alone.

The Foaming Garbage of my Mouth

"When the alarm clock goes off, you will disappear."

I wasn't afraid of the soccer ball today. I just pretended that all of my problems resided beneath its leathery surface, and if I could bring contact between that and my skull, it would all be okay. I'd hurt it; I'd hurt you. It was the best feeling in the world. Just seeing that wretched ball coming down, and with all my force I can muster in my current state, just sending it flying. It was incredibly satisfying. The stupid soccer ball flew away in a black and white blur. Bye, bye, problems. There they go.

I'm so glad I joined soccer. It's such a great outlet. Just going out there, running as fast as I can, not letting people get away. I've still got a LONG way to go until I can consider myself good, but until then I adore the sport.

Anyways, today was pretty pensive. What you say is disgusting, and it makes my stomach turn. The thought of you peacefully sleeping at night is impossible to fathom, but I will continue to pray for you, love. I do everyday.

The world is so utterly confusing. How do people live the way they do, knowing that their sole purpose is to ruin others' lives? Don't they understand that when they hurt one person, it doesn't stop there. People are connected all around: family, friends, acquaintances. Does this just not cross their minds?

Or do they just push it back down into the place where it came from, their silenced conscience?

The New Main Street

Leaving Quinn's, or a place that is not Quinn's,

His straightened back gives the insider

a feel for the scene and the Texan chill.

But what it's doesn't hint to

Is what happened in Quinn's,

or the place that is not Quinn's

or what happened at home

or over the phone with a girl who is his wife

or maybe not his wife at all.

It also doesn't provide an appropriate

background of the day's events

that somehow led him to this side of town.

The phone calls he made beforehand,

or the appointments he set up or cancelled

just to get some coffee at not-Quinn's.

The late birthday card that he mailed off

with a lick or torpor, drop drop into the mailbox

to be handled by men he doesn't know.

Or maybe he just wanted some coffee.

I guess I'll never know.

January 9th, 2009/2010

All around the world,

Eventually at least,

the clocks will strike midnight.

January 9.

2010.

Goodmorning.

Somehow, I expect it to mirror.

11 pm- You call me.

It's uneasy. So uneasy.

"I'm sorry it's so quiet."

I understand, I understand.

I'm the same way.

11:30- I'm bored.

Let's try this.

So I'll ask you that survey

that I've forgotten by now.

Shows how significant

that was.

It's fun, it's funit'sfunfun.

You laugh nerviously.

You tell me.

You hang up...

Goodbye?

No! Not goodbye!

11:36- I call you back.

Please, PLEASE explain.

I'm your friend.

You explain....

I guess we both cried.

I guess that's

As Close As We Ever Got.

All around the world,

Eventually at least,

the clocks will strike midnight.

January 9.

2010.

Goodmorning.

Somehow, I expect it to mirror.

But, of course, a year has stuck its

Foot in between us.

So instead,

11 pm- I'm sitting there.

In the same bed

I've owned for 15 years.

"I'm sorry it's so quiet,"

I say to the stale air.

It doesn't accept my apology.

I understand, I understand.

I was the same way.

11:30- I'm uneasy.

I can't breathe. It's a shallow

Shallow bowl where the breath gathers itself

And refuses to rise again.

I can't remember that survey

But I remember that question.

You don't hang up

Because we're not talking.

Goodbye?
Yes, this time I can't just call back.

There was nothing there, anyways.

11:36- I really can't breathe.

I have horrible thoughts and

Please explain.

I'm my friend.

No one can explain.

And I can't even cry by this time.

I guess that's

As Close As We Could Have Ever Gotten.

If I had known,

I swear,

I Would Have Stopped There.

Copy Machine

"I'm

Learning how to be alone without be lonely.

I'm

Learning how to be lonely without losing my mind."