Waiting, it's always the game of waiting.

Waiting for the right time to say the things you really mean.

Waiting for the "moment to be just right" to tell her how you really feel.

Waiting for the next best thing.

Waiting for life to press "start" on the meter of making sense.

Waiting for the world to grow out of trivial matters.

Waiting for the thought that precedes the next action.


I'm stuck on pause, or perhaps I'm just stuck on my paws. There's so many things I could be doing, I need to be doing, I want to be doing, and yet I accomplish little. It's really starting to wear on me. The more I wait, the more I watch life flutter by. And the more I watch, the more I become a cynic.

Oh sure, there's those brief moments, the glimpses through the cracks that alerts me to the presence of actual life around me, but those moments are rare, and rarer still do they come in times of sobriety. I see now why Alan Watts was an alcoholic and why so many "visionaries" resort to a variety of drugs.

The more I watch, however, the less I'm fooled. Ignorance is bliss, and the magic lies in being fooled. No, I'm not fooled, nor am I happy or amazed. "I can't get no satisfaction" is the verse to the song of my life. Nothing satiates my desires. No girl meets my standards, no thinker meets my approval, no religion (or anti-religion) approaches my intuition. And the more I watch life pass by, the more I become convinced that existence itself will fall short of my standards.

Are my standards too high? I should hope not, for I am merely a fallible human, and so my standards cannot be infinite. But alas they leave me paralyzed. Maybe I'm not even good enough for my standards, what then?

I want it all. I want a better world, a world full of mystery and intrigue and "magick". I want a world where people stop acting so irrational. I want a world where people care. I want a world that still amazes me. I want a world where dreams lie waiting inside every shadow, every crevice - waiting, if it were, for us to notice.



And so here I am, waiting ever more. Waiting for an opportunity, waiting for the rules to change, waiting for the players to get off the bench. I'm waiting for a reason to avoid an end-game. I'm waiting for something other than complete and total boredom to overtake me. I'm waiting for something new to change it all. And all I along, I wish I never grew up - I wish I was 10 years old for eternity.

Fuck Staples, there is no easy button, not even a help menu. You have to do it all yourself - even if it means changing the entire fucking world.

"I cannot ask a question, but still I wonder why."

A true hero plays the role of the villain.

A true hero dies alone.

A true hero dies in shame.

A true hero leaves this world with secrets intact.

A true hero is never known.

Truly, can any of us be the true hero?

If my corpse smiles into oblivion, perhaps.


At first glance, this makes no sense. Heroes are supposed to oppose, resist, and destroy the villains of this world. Heroes seemingly die with honor, love, respect, and always in someone's arms. Heroes aren't supposed to have secrets; they're supposed to be pure vessels. Heroes are supposed to be known, how else can we sing their praises?

Alas, the real hero is not what you'd expect. The real hero plays the villain. Why? To force the rest of humanity to rise above their meddling, tiresome lives, and become something greater. The real hero makes heroes of mankind. The real hero leaves a mark on society that forever changes it. To do that, the real hero plays the villain.

But to fully play this game, the hero can never tell his or her secret intentions. It can never be known that the person in question really had humanity's best interests in mind. For these reasons, the real hero dies alone, shamed and disgraced in an unmarked grave. Or perhaps the grave will carry a warning, a warning to all those who listen:

Here lies the most evil and despicable human being to ever walk the earth.

In reality, this couldn't be farther from the truth. It doesn't matter. No one shall sing the praises of the true hero. No one will aspire to be like the true hero. No one, except those who with unseeing eyes see through the shadows, through the misery, through the shame, and through the mystery. Those very few will see the hero for who he or she is. Those few will see the genius and the compassion buried deep within a visage of villainy. Those few will aspire to be true heroes themselves.


The true hero always plays the role of the villain, can't you see?

Some of you may be wondering what happened to my documentary page (Identity: Richmond). Truth be told, it looks like MySpace deleted it. Why? I remain clueless. Hopefully this will get cleared up in the next few days, and the profile (fingers crossed) will get restored. If not, we'll create a new one and try to retrace our steps.

Thanks for being patient,

J.J.J.

...Drifting...Tired...Cold...Lonely...

It's back again, and I am lost as to when it shall leave me be. In fact, I'm just plain lost. Lost in a sea of people wasting their lives away, wasting me away with them. What's the fucking point? You never really do anything meaningful anyways. You just want that extra drink, that extra puff, that extra FUCK.

Well Fuck you!

In another life, I probably would have been that Cho kid. I would have been the one who snapped and killed a bunch of people. But no, my heart bleeds too much for that. Instead, I'm watching my passions, my dreams, my hopes, and my life flood out my essence with the never-ending flow of blood. Maybe if someone cared enough to give a little back, I might be able to continue.


But no, you don't care. No one ever does. The world is filled with dung beetles masquerading as humans. No wonder you're so obsessed with worthless, meaningless SHIT. That's all you consume, that and your own waste.

All the while, I'm wasting away, doing too much to keep sane, yet not doing enough to satisfy my own drive.

I regret sleeping now, because it isn't efficient enough. I regret living now, because it isn't worth it. I regret walking away, because you shot me in the back. I regret it all, just so that one day, someone might not.

I feel it. I feel it's draw. Thanatos, you silly bitch. Why now? It's going to be brutal, but will anyone notice? Probably not. It should have happened years ago. A sloppy wreck of mangled flesh, metal, and bone. Alas, just a few shards of glass. No, now it's here. I feel the tingle in my spine, I feel the tug on my soul.

It's okay, I didn't belong here anyways. Those who wanted me, I could not/did not want; and those who I wanted, refused me. To belong, one must long to be, and be wanted. I am neither, and I feel it will soon be beyond matters of concern.


It sounds like a whisper
It seems like a dream
It breaks and it falls
It tears at the seam

Suppose that it happens
Suppose that it's real
Supposing you're right
Suppose it won't heal forever

And I will get old and tired
And nothing will get to me
No one will want to have me
Longing to be set free

If only the sun would take me
If only the wind was on my side

I wish I could see you
I'm stuck in a fog
I wish I had patience
A virtue says god

I wish I had wishes
A gold magic charm
I'd wish for more time
I'd wish to go far away

And I will get old and tired
And nothing will get to me
No one will want to have me
Longing to be set free

If only the sun would take me
If only the wind was on my side

I can hear voices calling
And I can feel weight upon my mind
You'll hold my hand in your hand
And after I'm gone you'll still have
Time to figure out the things,
The things that left me empty inside

If only the sun would take me
If only the wind was on my side
If only the wind was on my side...
Wooooa... on my side

I walk near-empty streets, late at night, searching for that which eludes me, that which escapes my mind, that which I know not.

I see lonely men and women, some without places to call a home, and I am helpless, powerless to do anything except give in to demands for a cigarette.

Where do we all come from?
Eleanor Rigby
by The Beatles

Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?

What is the face I wear for? Who am I kidding, what am I hiding? I wish I knew.

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong ?

Father Mckenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near.
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care?

Why do I care? Why does any of this matter? Shouldn't I just be slaving myself to the machine or searching for some mindless nobody to shack myself up with? What the fuck?

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?


So I keep walking these lonesome streets, wondering where all these people come from, where I come from (in deeper manners than just literal crap). Where do I belong?

I know not.

To belong, one must both be wanted and want to be, wherever that is. I have yet to find such a place. I have no real place I desire to call home. I have no group to call my own. I have no place to hide my face when it abhors me. No culture, no love, no destination known as "home, sweet, home." Sometimes, I'll find a group/culture I feel might suit me, only to have the feeling evaporate or my welcome wear out. I long to belong, in some place other than a thong, more like a well-educated throng.

And as I round a corner, I stare into the reflection a window has provided me. Cigarette in hand, earbuds in place, I stand alone. No one beside me; no one even near me. A car races past me in the street beyond, like a bubble enclosed from the world.

No, I am still alone, walking, wandering, searching. I know I have yet to hit rock bottom, or reach the peak of this existential mountain, but sometimes I wonder.

Is it worth it to strive towards the top, if it means doing it alone? Where's the sense in that?



I crush the spent cigarette beneath the soles of my ragged shoes, wondering if I am the shoe smashing the bud, or the bud being crushed.

And then I turn from my only companion, my own reflection in the window, and continue walking to who knows where.

I can only hope I end up where I belong.

I think, for now, I know what I need. I need a teacher, a mentor, a wise friend, or perhaps an experienced lover. I need someone I can actually learn from; not petty intellectual knowledge, but true experience, the experience of life, and how to live more fully.

I need this more than classes, more than finally becoming an "official" adult (fuck this stupid 21 shit), more than sex or simply "blowing my load". I have money, time, and my right hand for that. And all of those are worthless.

I find myself in classes becoming more of a secondary teacher than any student should. I'm always "taking the initiative" and putting on the leader (or is it dunce?) cap. But what I need, for where I'm going, for where I want to go, is a leader. I need someone who can shine a light on my path(s). I don't want/need someone to hold my hand or pick my path; no, I just need someone with the experience to give me a map, or a lantern, or maybe just a shove.

In absence of this for now, I must continue to rely on myself and the introspection of lyrical de-construction.



"On My Side"
Artist: Ra

It sounds like a whisper
It seems like a dream
It breaks and it falls
It tears at the seam

Suppose that it happens
Suppose that it's real
Supposing you're right
Suppose it won't heal forever

And I will get old and tired
And nothing will get to me
No one will want to have me
Longing to be set free

If only the sun would take me
If only the wind was on my side [2x]

I wish I could see you
I'm stuck in a fog
I wish I had patience
A virtue says god

I wish I had wishes
A gold magic charm
I'd wish for more time
I'd wish to go far away

And I will get old and tired
And nothing will get to me
No one will want to have me
Longing to be set free

If only the sun would take me
If only the wind was on my side [2x]

I can hear voices calling
And I can feel weight upon my mind
You'll hold my hand in your hand
And after I'm gone you'll still have
Time to figure out the things,
The things that left me empty inside

If only the sun would take me
If only the wind was on my side
If only the wind was on my side...[2x]
Wooooa... on my side


I did it again tonight; I went driving, to places that are someone else's destination. I listened to the irrational, intuitive element- the element of dreams -and tried to rationalize it. The fear returned, shriveling my skin; ghastly chills haunting my spine. And I saw what I needed to see, but no confrontation, no drama, no scene. Sure I got some inspiration from it, a feeling to drip into my script, but nothing to continue my own story. The ghost, my muse, sauntered out, friends in tow, perhaps a lover in hand. Not quite like I had imagined, but close enough.

Alas, no dreams were settled, not like the first two. Perhaps I should just let them go, let the ghost go, that seems rational right? But then the pain subsides, and my mind is left without enough pieces to draw this tragic scene. I still know not how it all crumbled down.


"Only"
Artist: Ra
(and as the sun goes down I cry myself to sleep)
I watch the bugs crawling across my skin
Now that you are gone, I can let things crumble
And though it seems that this was meant to be
It's so hard to see and all I do is stumble

The candles burn but it's still too dark
I have given up so it's not worth trying
I'll face the truth when I think I can
Try to understand what I love denying

I'm only
Falling through the cracks
I'm only
Losing my will to live
I'm only
Broken and beaten down
I'm only... I'm only

I've got to go; this place is poison now
Now that you are gone and your ghost ignores me
I beg and plead with eternity
But this fantasy I see abhors me

The visions come during day or night
Angels, devils pray on my weak condition
And out of reach there's a tiny light
That could set things right if I could change position

I'm only
Falling through the cracks
I'm only
Losing my will to live
I'm only
Broken and beaten down
I'm only... I'm only

If only the sun could spare me this pain
I would open up the doors and let him in
And look into his eyes
Just burn away your lies
Tear you from my heart and from my soul

I'm only
Falling through the cracks
I'm only
Losing my will to live
I'm only
Broken and beaten down
I'm only... I'm only [2x]

It's a sad day when a suicide would hardly make a ripple, hardly leave an impression, and probably miss the mark. Maybe I create my own lonely prison, it's entirely possible, but where's that damn bitch with the keys in her mouth? And even if I could get myself out, what's the point? I see nothing from this towered view worth saving, worth pursuing, worth living or even dying for. It's all so superficial and fleeting, like sand castles on stormy beaches.


"Tell Me"
Ra

In violation of a thought a long-long time ago,
Impressive reasons fill the caverns of my mind
No celebration for the people that I didn't know
Connected even though there's nothing left to find

There's more than I can say
And there's a deeper part of me
Won't you be my inspiration
Help me end my desperation now

Tell me what it is I'm meant to do
I've fallen to my knees
I've shed away my tears
And lost my destiny

I sit beneath the sun
My hands held to the sky
I cannot ask a question
But still I wonder why

Poetic justice never seems to make the world feel right
Chaotic voices in the darkness call your name
You turn away from me whenever I remind you of the day the sun
Saw through the lies exposing all the pain.

There's more than I can say
And there's a deeper part of me
Won't you be my inspiration
Help me end my desperation now

Tell me what it is I'm meant to do
I've fallen to my knees
I've shed away my tears
And lost my destiny

I sit beneath the sun
My hands held to the sky
I cannot ask a question
But still I wonder why

And there's so much pain
And there's so much war
And there's so much hurt
I can take no more
Won't you come and take me
To another daaaaaaaayeah
And Take me far away.

There's more than I can say
And there's a deeper part of me
Won't you be my inspiration
Help me end my desperation now

Tell me what it is I'm meant to do
I've fallen to my knees
I've shed away my tears
And lost my destiny

I sit beneath the sun
My hands held to the sky
I cannot ask a question
But still I wonder why

Someone, anyone, anything (I'll take little green or gray fuckers if need be) just fucking take me away. Away to someplace full of life, full of mystery, full of intrigue- not this lifeless noir, a real-life flick with a stick, a twig to gouge out my eyes with.

Perhaps I feel my ego swelling, perhaps this is the idealist rumblings of a not-so-special, delusional "child". Perhaps the myths and mysteries are nothing more than stories. Perhaps this feeling of purpose, of meaning is just another illusion, another shadow that dances along my prison's walls.

Who the fuck has that key!?!?

Why do I do this to myself? I torture myself, I torment myself, I put myself within pain's dreaded embrace. Why? I could let go at any time, I could walk away. I could forget (hell, I already did the forgiving part), but that's not enough. No, I'm waiting for something, but what I know not. That unamusing whore, Babalon's scourge, my psychedelic plague has my mind wracked.

I'm so used to people not sticking to me, that I cannot deal with being stuck to someone. Pressed perhaps, but only to the bottom of black boots like unwanted gum from a club floor. I wish I knew what I did wrong, so I could at least learn from the experience.

But no, just another teacher passing me by the wayside, a harried, shaggy hitchhiker on the road to enlightenment. Perhaps red stains would match my sun-burnt arms, but alas, the blade is jammed into my chest. Not enough to kill, just enough to make it hard to breathe, hard to move on.

I'm still not old enough to buy a fucking beer, but that only seems to reaffirm the notion that this damned world is just another meaningless abstraction, a distraction filled with shit. A rat race overflowing with spoiled, rotten cheese. Sure, I could take action, but you forget:

I'm too young,

despite my sagging eyes, my weary soul, my pressing intellect, my thoughtful words, and the growing lines about my face.

I guess it's just a visage, and I bought into it too.



Fuck! Gimme that key, bitch!

So this is meant to be a reflection of sorts in light of the past few days. Keep that in mind.

"The Sound of Silence"
by Simon & Garfunkel

Hello darkness, my old friend,
Ive come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.

Fools said i,you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said, the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whispered in the sounds of silence.


Take a moment of silence to reflect on these words and the events of the past few days.



Now, let it go. Yes I said it, let it go. Why? Why should you let it go? 33 people (if you include the killer) are dead on an American campus. Worst ever in our history. Ad Infinitum.

Now, back to reality... Just in one day, today, 233 people were killed in Baghdad, and who knows how many more were injured by four bomb blasts. Not only counting the mere fact that 233 > 33, but this happens nearly EVERY DAY in Iraq.

"One"
by Creed

Affirmative may be justified take from one give to another
The goal is to be unified take my hand be my brother
The payment silenced the masses sanctified by oppression
Unity took a back seat sliding further into regression

One oh One the only way is One
One oh One the only way is One
I feel angry I feel helpless, wanna change the world yeah..
I feel violent I feel alone, don't try and change my mind no..

Society blind by color why hold down one to raise another
Discrimination now on both sides seeds of hate blossom further
The world is headed for mutiny, when all we want is unity
We may rise and fall, but in the end we meet our fate together

One oh One the only way is One
One oh One the only way is One
I feel angry I feel helpless, wanna change the world yeah..
I feel violent I feel alone, don't try and change my mind no..
I feel angry I feel helpless, wanna change the world yeah..
I feel violent I feel alone, don't try and change my mind no..

I feel angry I feel helpless, wanna change the world yeah..
I feel violent I feel alone, don't try and change my mind no..
I feel angry I feel helpless, wanna change the world yeah..
I feel violent I feel alone, don't try and change my mind


So mourn for a little longer, but then, GROW UP. This is the reality we live in.

Is that cold? Perhaps, or perhaps it's just the truth of the situation.

Why is this the reality of the situation? Because this is the reality WE create. Yes, I said "we". The myth of the lone gunman goes beyond conspiracy theories and the like. "Mass-murderers" don't just come out of the dark like the bogeyman. They are shaped, formed, and CREATED by the society they reside within. So if you need to point a finger for all of this tragedy, don't point it at a dead man. Point it at yourself.

Oh shit, the jackass just crossed the line; he just pushed the little red button that you're not supposed to press. Fuck it, get over it. Truth hurts, and if you can't feel the pain, you're not looking the truth in the eye. I went to high school with the guy, and I didn't know him. And that's the point. He was a loner with pent up rage and anger BECAUSE no one went out of their way to show him a different reality.

You want to avoid another tragedy like this? You won't do it with gun laws. You won't do it by focusing on "mentally-crazed" individuals, or people with "sick" imaginations. Nope. You won't do it with increased security. Not a chance. The more you try to prevent a travesty, the easier they sneak up on you and tear you to shreds.

Nope, if you want to prevent another incident like this, YOU have to be proactive. YOU have to connect with all those around you. ALL means EVERYONE. The very reason this guy snapped is because no one cared to truly level to him and show him a world beyond his own torments (torments we very likely helped to inflict).

And I know, I know, you just want to slap me for touching base with the killer, and not the victims, but that's just the point. The more you identify with the victims, the more YOU BECOME A VICTIM. And when you become a victim, you open yourself up to situations to be victimized. No, to prevent these events, you must not identify with the victims (or even the "heroes"); no, you must learn to identify yourself with the killers, the victimizers, the tormented. Only then can you, through compassion and humanity, begin to change the damage that has been done, and prevent another tragedy such as what we've witnessed at VT.

Do you get it yet? If YOU don't learn to quit helping fuel a society of separation and exclusion, of favorites and outcasts, of haves and have nots, these fucked up situations will continue to brew and fester like a stale wound. And when the gangrene sets in, it's too fucking late. So yes, mourn as you will, and then let go. Take a note from the Buddha and detach yourself. Your suffering is directly related to your attachments to those you've lost. And it's subconsciously related to the fact that deep down, you know you are partially responsible for all of this pain and suffering.


Now for some more lyrics...

"If Everyone Cared"
by Nickelback

From underneath the trees, we watch the sky
Confusing stars for satellites
I never dreamed that you'd be mine
But here we are, we're here tonight

Singing Amen, I, I'm alive
Singing Amen, I, I'm alive

If everyone cared and nobody cried
If everyone loved and nobody lied
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride
Then we'd see the day when nobody died

And I'm singing

Amen I, Amen I, I'm alive
Amen I, Amen I, Amen I, I'm alive

And in the air the fireflies
Our only light in paradise
We'll show the world they were wrong
And teach them all to sing along

Singing Amen, I, I'm alive
Singing Amen, I, I'm alive
(I'm alive)

If everyone cared and nobody cried
If everyone loved and nobody lied
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride
Then we'd see the day when nobody died

When nobody died...

If everyone cared and nobody cried
If everyone loved and nobody lied
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride
Then we'd see the day when nobody died
When nobody died...

And as we lie beneath the stars
We realize how small we are
If they could love like you and me
Imagine what the world could be

If everyone cared and nobody cried
If everyone loved and nobody lied
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride
Then we'd see the day when nobody died
When nobody died...

We'd see the day, we'd see the day
When nobody died
We'd see the day, we'd see the day
When nobody died
We'd see the day when nobody died



I know that may seem hard to imagine, but it's simple. Love thy neighbor, and cry not their passing. Do not lie to me, them, or yourself, share your pain, and let it go. Swallow your pride (and your fear), and what is there that Death can snatch from your grasp?

Then we'd see a day when nobody really died (only in flesh, not in spirit). Then they'd join us in song, and stand next to us singing...


"Stand Here With Me"
by Creed

You always reached out to me and
helped me believe
All those memories we share
I will cherish every one of them
The truth of it is there's a right way to live
And you showed me
So now you live on in the words of a song
You're a melody

'Cause you stand here with me, now yeah yeah...
'Cause you stand here with me, now yeah yeah...

Just when fear blinded me
you taught me to dream
I'll give you everything I am,
and still fall short of
What you've done for me
In this life, that I live,
I hope, I can give, love unselfishly
I've learned the world is bigger than me,
You're my daily dose of reality

'Cause you stand here with me,now yeah yeah...
'Cause you stand here with me,now yeah yeah...

On and on we sing
On and on we sing
on and on we sing
on and on we sing

On and on we sing this song
on and on we sing this song

'Cause you stand here with me



So if those deaths mean anything to you, dedicate yourself, in their memory, to preventing another one just like it. Dedicate yourself to loving one another, acting compassionately, and including, not excluding those around you. Once you begin to exclude, once you sow seeds of disgust, seeds of revulsion, seeds of HATE; you're bound to get a crop of tragedy, and it'll be all YOUR fault.

Don't worry, your loved ones stand there with you, and you're only going to hurt them more if you fail to learn from their deaths. IF you fail to love, If you fail to respect, if you fail to act with compassion, if you fail to reach out to those in need, you'll only be spitting on the very graves you'll be burying in the next few days. Keep that in mind. Then let it go, let them go, and move on.

Can't let go? Can't detach? Okay, I'll give you one more song, and then by the time you finish reading, let it all go, let the shock, the horror, the grief, the anger, and the helplessness flow out of your essence. Don't hold it, don't fight it. It wants and needs to leave; it only lingers because you keep it within. Let it out, cry out if you must, and then let it go in one huge fit of Tao-ness. And if you fail to listen to my words, remember, you'll only be doing injustice to the very ones you claim to be grieving. They'd want you to move on, and remember only the good days, not the bad - trust me.

So, now we carry the blessed to their graves, and release...

"Carry the Blessed Home"
by Blind Guardian

Pale faced the innocent
Will drown in blood
Hurt and withdrawn
Don´t dare to steal my grief
In this haze of green and gold
He´s gone
Blind my eyes
And I still
Can see through the mist
To the very end
There I´ll face
What I fear the most

Blind my eyes ...
But it all doesn't matter
Right now
I will bury my dead
And keep on
Til the end
I won´t give up
I won´t give up
I´ll turn
To the "red fields of none"
There´s a grave
There´s a rose
Drift away
I can hear me say
Soon you all shall be free

Carry the blessed home
No one´s left here but me
And I will sing out your name
You call me insane, I know
I've opened my heart
And my soul to you son
So pale turns the innocent
And all I feel is pain
Suddenly I understand
He´s gone
Blind my eyes
And I still
Can see through the mist
To the very end
There I´ll face
What I fear the most
Blind my eyes
But it all doesn't matter
Right now

But it all doesn't matter
Right now

Carry the blessed home
No one´s left here but me
And I will sing out your name
Driven insane?
No
What I feared the most
I have faced and that´s truth
The gray faced is not innocent
Though I cry in dismay
I will follow decay
I´ll move on
Is there anyone here
Who knows
How it feels to be wrong?

Blind my eyes
And I still
Can see through the mist
To there very end
There I´ll face
What I fear the most
Blind my eyes ...
But it all doesn´t matter
Right now
Right now

Matter right now
Matter right now




Now let go and release...

"A Bit of This, You, and Me"

A feeling, a welcomed touch
A little, yet all too much
A kiss, brimming with life
A heart, flooded with strife

This phrase, broken like dreams
This fact, not what it seems
This scene, just memories
This mind, failed faculties

Your face, always glowing
Your boat, keep on rowing
Your lips, all-consuming
Your glare, always fuming

A world, without sunrise
A warmth, between your thighs
A place, but no one's there
A taste, not really fair

This truth, ugly and cold
This corpse, too much to hold
This hand, nothing to feel
This wound, trying to heal

My face, needing a nurse
My boat, stuck in reverse
My lips, need affection
My stare, no connection


"Ghosts Out of Reach"

Saw a ghost today,
Crossing streets so Broad,
Dressed in usual black,
So Iconic.

Black jacket lined with red,
Some words left unsaid.
No call this time,
Let her walk alone.

Watched her fade off
Into crowds never on.
Take another puff,
This smoke haunts less.

Forgive and forget,
A forgotten art.
Keep to your own world,
Sit and rot in mine.

"Sense of a Spark"
Finger Eleven

Let other words fail
I don't find it fair.
But anyway
This little string keeps on pulling
So I gotta pull myself down some different path
Inside my mind
Needs out
I wanna trip myself away
But I better wait I better wait I better wait

I get the sense of a spark so I follow
"I don't believe that she knows something I know"
I tell myself as I stay in the shadow
I tell myself not to go, but I go

Needing to see
Whichever way she's going
If there's any way
So far from here
There's little fear
Her words could ever hurt me
I Don't want to wait.
Don't want to wait.
Don't want to wait I...

I get the sense of a spark so I follow
I don't believe that she knows something I know
I tell myself as I stay in the shadow
I tell myself not to go, not to go,
But I go
Not to go, Not to go,
But I go

Don't look don't talk don't yell
Just close your eyes
This may or may not come
As some surprise
I've found obsessions
Which to live and die by
Don't look don't talk don't yell
Just close your eyes

I get the sense of a spark so I follow
I don't believe that she knows something I know
I tell myself as I stay in the shadow
I tell myself not to go, not to go,
I get the sense of a spark so I follow
I don't believe that she knows something I know
I tell myself as I stay in the shadow
I tell myself not to go, not to go,
But I go
Not to go, not to go,
But I go!


So my words always seem to fail me. I guess that's fair, though my ego doesn't find it so. So many "mystical" traditions warn us of the failings of linguistics and words, but such warnings fall on deaf ears. How could they not? We think in words, we can't help but use words, words are the code for our bio-computers. And yet, it's necessary to extinguish them from our very existence. If we could communicate telepathically, so many problems would be solved. If we could think in images, instead of abstractions, some many issues would be avoided.

I envy the Chinese, but even their pictorial language fails. Still, their failings is much less than our own. Like reading the Tao Te Ching, the words of Lao Tzu find a clarity amongst the contradictions and paradoxes that are only held back by being translated into English. His wisdom is clear, despite the muddled nature of the English language. My wisdom? Unclear, with or without the muddy waters of English ink flowing from fingers to paper.

These strings inside keep pulling, pulling me in too many directions at once. I want to change the world. I want to save humanity from itself. I want to fix this wreck of a society we call civilized. I want to mend the broken pieces of my own life. And yet, I also want to say FUCK IT! I want to destroy. I want to demolish the whole world. Perhaps humanity isn't worth it. Perhaps all the problems in the world and my life aren't worth fixing. Perhaps no one deserves this life. Is it right to think that? I let the ethics debaters waste their breaths on that question. Still, I feel these two yin-yang, pro-con, creative-destructive forces swirling inside, battling for control of my actions.

Perhaps I should just go with the song, and just go. Leave it all. Find some piece of wilderness (if there's even any left), and become a hermit in the woods somewhere. I wish I could, but alas the bullshit of modern society dictates that I participate or die of cold, hunger, or some other lowly end.

What we really need is a catastrophe. Not some 9/11 bullshit (I'm not even going to get started on that and the War on Terror crap, tonight is not the night for that shit), but something truly catastrophic like a meteor or nuclear winter or massive volcanic eruption (Just imagine how beautiful it'd be to see Yellowstone erupt in all her wondrous anger). Something that would wipe civilization clean like windex on a dirty mirror. It'd be beautiful, though most would only see the negative. In such a situation, there'd be immense opportunity for the world to recreate itself, for humanity to reshape itself into a much more respectable form.

If only apocalyptic Armageddons weren't just limited to my dreams and horrible blockbusters.

So now I go to bed dreaming of pictures and places and people that elude my waking reality.

Tumbling through a fog-ridden daze
Mumbling hurt-strewn phrases of craze
Memory fails the I these days
A self-drawn hex that never pays

Humbling their hearts in cloudy ways
Bumbling our way through this rat maze
Shadows of our real selves ablaze
Scorched bridges unworthy of praise

Soul burning and mind melting torch of mine
Hole churning and I'm dwelling on this sign
My flesh licked by flames of my own design,
All signs point from childish whine to "Not Fine".

Mind bending chaos causes ill-effect
Kind mending words allow me to reconnect
I burnt the bridges without much respect,
Do any remain or are they all wrecked?



I know I've been a bit crazy the last, almost 2 months now. It's not me to be this way; I'm supposed to be centered, calm, and the one who helps others, not who needs help. Yes, I realize we all find our ditches every now and then (hopefully it isn't lethal or involves automobiles), but nevertheless, I feel I should be above and beyond that. I've been living through my emotions too much, emotions which have no stability, at least for me at this moment. My strength lies with my mind and my unemotional, altruistic connection to humanity. When I allow my emotions in, I lose control of myself, my thoughts, and my actions. Subsequently, all else in my life suffers, sometimes for the mere rise of an evanescent whisper of some sweet nothing.

I hope I haven't lost a friend as a result, but I fear for the worst (lol, fear and anger come easiest, especially when there is little to no knowledge to set my mind at ease). There is something horribly wrong when someone feels dead to you even if they never ceased being or breathing.

Melodrama?

Perhaps. As I said before, I've been in a daze ever since being moved from Ackell. That sequence of events in early-mid February stole a huge rock from my stable mental foundation. I felt quite at home and content working at Ackell, and being forced to move to Capital Garage robbed me of an area of my day, week, and life that I took refuge in. It may sound odd, but I thoroughly enjoyed working at Ackell, my coworkers, the residents, and the overall atmosphere. It was fun and something reliable, something which allowed me to ignore anything bothering me and lose myself for a shift, lose myself in the people and the atmosphere.

Now that is gone, and as I look back, I see a series of seemingly unrelated events that combined to cause much more damage and hurt than they ever should have.

-A tarot card reading (during a chemical induced track meet with Infinity).
-A character in the novel, Siddhartha, that became a personified succubus in my mind.
-A decision to be compassionate; a mistake made in breaking silence.
-A birthday party; an "interesting" night (more track meets with Infinity, but I thought I beat it this time - I think IT just fooled me)
-A dream taken for too much meaning and a later dream not taken seriously enough.
-A screenplay in shambles - based on an experience from my distant past; a new hope for it found in a new experience, one that apparently reflected the old.
-A few simple words that hurt, confused, and caused me to obsess for answers.
-An obsession driven by a CREATIVE FORCE that possessed me unlike any other.
-Not enough said at first, and way too much said of late.

So how does all of this burn so many bridges? I wish I knew for sure, but I know it's all interrelated in some massively intricate way. Perhaps it was just a mutual arising of some Tao-like force that wanted me to learn and create from it. I will say that my screenplay is in much better shape now- a story that effectively combines all of the elements I was groping with before. But was it worth it? Is a screenplay (or any other creative work) worth the price of losing a friend, is it worth the ashes of so many bridges?

I guess it depends on how close the friend was to me. Perhaps it hurts so much because I cherish all of my friends, for the true ones are so few in number in my life. This is not meant to draw pity, I'm fine with my small group, but it just hurts more to lose one from such a small number. It hurts even more to realize that the feeling is not mutual. I was just one of many in an interesting and well-connected person's life. I realize this. To sever those ties hurts the other much less than it hurts me.

So why all the constant bridge images? Because it's time for me to get to work and attempt to make up for my mistakes. To sow the torn, burnt, and tattered threads of these rope bridge. To find some semblance of peace. To, if nothing else, find a closure. To, in the end, figure out why I still have this "Book of the Law" on my hands. I claimed I'd burn it, I tried to read it, I failed to adequately do either, and yet I can't seem to get it off my hands.

Perhaps now that this fog is lifting the craze from my days and leading me out of my maze-like daze, I may now begin the journey towards setting everything right. No, it doesn't have to be perfect, but it starts with a little compassion and willingness to forgive. Thankfully, I have both in good doses, but it takes two to rebuild a bridge from the wreckage strewn across rocky chasms. Will the other be so willing to forgive and forget? I can only hope, but first I must find a way to break this void-like silence.


A high-pitch screech wounds the ear, but silence wounds the heart and confuses the mind.

As I write this, more pieces, some only tangentially related, fall into place. I see in my searching for truth and an intuitive, "mystical/magickal" understanding some necessary steps that need to be taken. I need to open myself up more to experiences. I need to experience more. Specifically, I need to connect more with PEOPLE. What lacks in my life is the ability to truly and deeply connect to people. From there, I can attempt to connect to nature and the other elements lying beneath the thin sheets of this illusionary bed cover. But first, I must develop socially, on explicit, implicit, and intimate levels. I've been focusing too much on the void of intimacy (perhaps it's a natural "spring" reaction), but I really need to focus on all levels.

:) Here's to the hope of brighter, or perhaps, more fulfilling days, beyond the craze of this past/present daze.