light!

Hafu documentary film

2011-11-06T20:10:00.000-08:00

Growing up multi-racial and multi-cultural brought a lot of interesting curiosities and perspectives into my life. Some fellow Half-Japanese creators are currently in the finishing stages of completing a documentary film about the "hafu" (half-Japanese, half-other ethnicity) experience in Japan. This project is near to my heart in many ways and I'm personally curious as to how the final film will be.

First of all, as most projects these days, they need aide/help with the funding to finish this project.
Being as broke as I am, I decided to help in my own way and offer up some recent paintings I'd finished.

Please go and check out the site to help

HERE (hafu-film)

thank you and please help spread the word!

October Snow

2011-10-29T14:23:00.000-07:00

Chief Wan-Tun had sores that sung chants so irritably lucid that there'd be no going back once the twisted word shattered with the swift swing of the heart's hammer. Dripping with the grasp of metal screws, words set free into the hardly breathable airs shared, a confession of solemn honesty echoes beyond the hum of time. Set me free with your eyes, let me cry like a detuned viola forgotten in more dire memories. Snow covered sheeting came with the morning breeze as the trains began to pull out for an untimely shift in spatial consciousness. Allow the whims to subdue the ignorance we feed with nutrients of energies unseen. Collaborate with one's self to shed the comfort of the mind's disillusioned frame, for boundaries are no more than forgotten ink with no place to take shape and translate the unimagined harmonies.

frequencies

2011-10-14T11:17:00.000-07:00

rather infrequencies...

boredom brings the release

of things

hindered by dishonesty of

slandered thoughts

go download the FREE EP (click on the cover)

this early morning

2010-09-15T17:29:00.000-07:00

the moon is still out, hidden by clouds but still genuinely felt. Dashed by dreamscapes to awake to an un-abided energy calling out in constant revelry: the rain has come to clear the airs! every single tone has something to add to this joyous cheer. sketching the face of my beloved in dreams, learning a new shape and shade of nature reaching out beyond boundaries set by those unknowing. A certain calm falls over this being, this body sculpted for this skewed inner being, so curiously enamoured by the silence only the Earth can speak, which isn't 'silent' at all but rather a deep humming speech. Forever Endowed with Now. with a 'peacetime resistance' comes a new breath to what I only thought I knew, this comfort from another's eyes, opened or closed, beaming from a passed shadow, a place where we all felt alone at one juncture or another. though this chaotic haywire keeps sharing new colours with me, how can I possibly find perception stilled by mere ideas or notions, regardless of where they may be coming from or on what frequency I'm traveling. finding new poetry in the winds played again and again, there's no structure to this flowing vibration we call existence, only that which transforms to the wills we exude. imaginations explode with the fresh smell of african coffee brewing, what isn't from a foreign land these days? One must (and this is the ONLY way possible) orchestrate such morning glories. We must conduct our lives only as such, with brightness. With Love.

nau

2010-09-11T03:30:00.000-07:00

there shall never be an 'again'. phosphorescent life climbs from the dingiest shadow imagined, only to blossom in to complete light. basking and reviving the once lamed sensation of living, away from the material gain of levels only attempted to reach. There never was a before or an after, we only recycle what's chosen to be remembered in an unconscious fit of masochism. Forever Now is all we've ever had, the only song that came to mind on windy days, the starlit day-break that shoved suicide to another date. We've lit our lives on fire before, even for an instant un-recalled, disintegrating that looming horror of action's weight, for to create a dream is far more trying than chasing them. be still. listen. manifest from the heart with acceptance and love. what could ever possibly be distracted when so intrinsically attentive? Whole-heartedly admitting to the day's circumstantial elaboration as we embrace time and space. another one on the rocks for the rocky terrain yet to be tried, nothing comes easy: to appreciate simply being in simplicity. please.

it took traveling to an island many times...

2010-08-27T23:45:00.000-07:00

until we found one another...

Erin:

When her face speaks the sadness of yesterday,
I wilt a bit more,
than my own face allows the reflection to reveal.
Only if she'd let me hold her
for a little while,
I'd do my best to absorb the
blackhole vibes that sometimes
consume her eyes.
Then she's not alone.

a week ago, this came...

2010-08-15T09:29:00.000-07:00

while on the rooftop, star gazing with her:

If I accidentally veer from your
eyes,
please know my gaze is only trying to
capture the moon
for you.
Or a cluster of stars with
5 galaxies
devoid
of blackhole thoughts.
Chasing shooting stars for us
to survive on.
I'll hunt the night
perpetual
for the hope that
we'll never fade
into daylight,
or deviate
from one another's
hearts.

REAL ART!!!

2010-08-05T02:54:00.000-07:00

ok, fuck my art...fuck your art...fuck their art...

THIS IS ART!!!

my dear brother, confidant, and tatooist Gary Gagliano...

if you don't know,

KNOW!

Gary Gagliano Hubert Gallery NY

another gallery

enjoy the love!

peter pan is a 60+ year old senior citizen in Japan...

2010-08-02T04:02:00.000-07:00

What majestic pageantry this place can surprise you with...after a rather disconnected exhibition at "21-21" design studio in Roppongi's mid town, Kosuke, Erin and I went to wander about in Roppongi Hills...after finding a bench to sit on directly in front of the bathroom on the fourth floor, a magickal being made his way out of the loo. His gaze focused, a glint in his eye spoke of never-neverland and he approached us speaking some suave engrish. "where are you from?" he asked, casting a silent spell for a brief moment, "I'm from California," I answered. "O! I lived in Berkley, where are you from in California," he inquired with a rather youthful smile. After some exchange of english he revealed, "I'm Peter!" He asked if we'd like to join him and his girlfriend, "she's 60..." for a drink of shochu (soju) with them. Peter Pan apparently enjoys his drank. He led us to an establishment entirely fashioned of wood, polished and lively, he ordered us some magnificent drinks and scrimps. Peter Pan's girlfriend was a kind and honest older woman, she enjoys practicing her english which wasn't half bad...but my mind kept wondering, how did Peter Pan become a Japanese man with a PHD from Harvard in IT technologies...? Never-Neverland must have been eternities ago but his youthful demeanor still danced, taunting our shadows to come out and play. What marvelous imbibing potions he ordered, it was like drinking the night sky in a clear twilight. The moon began to sway the tides of time, now I know why he brought us to his tree house, to help us understand this presence of time, to learn to capture it with our entire might and make the most of it. "My professor at Berkley use to ask me, 'what have you done in a week? nothing???'...he was beeelly strict! but I learned..." Apparently it's never too late to become what we truly want and know in our depths we can be. Thank you Peter Pan and Kathy (his gf) for the wondrous time away from time! What's coming can only be up to us, to follow the beckoning of wonder or to deny kindly the opportunities we're faced with constantly. Let's all follow those magnetic energies which strike curiosity is such a naked way that we too are stripped clean of identity and can then share in random beauty!

∞∆¬øπ∑

2010-07-31T10:06:00.000-07:00

∆¬øπ∑∫√...alonely

WOWWWWWWWWWWWWW @_@

2010-07-29T22:08:00.000-07:00

to all my loved DJ friends...

well just enjoy this...

THANKS LEGS for sharing this with yiu

Tokyo morning poem...

2010-07-29T02:01:00.000-07:00

Collaborating a unique frequency together,
why resist this?
Where are you rushing us to?
Oblique commemoration of the past
set to a new understanding,
following the contours
of the sunsets,
full moon light baths
showered by the tree's shade,
only to remind us that there's only
today.
So let's go sing in the rain
before we dry up
and crumble
beneath tomorrow and yesterday.

MUSICS!!!

2010-07-22T06:36:00.001-07:00

the other morning I had a little online jam session with my brother Mr. O'Hagan.

despite the delays between digital signals and internet things, I can say it went interestingly well.

The Cosmic Boys & the Dreamers are in full effect!!!

jamzzzz!

I also decided to compile, arrange and cut out songs from my creations this year and made my first solo ALBUM!!!

light! ライト！[dreems]

go download it here!

light! ライト！[dreems] - Inbetween Between(2010)

enjoy!!!

oh yeah...and everyone...

LET'S HIT THE BEACH!!!

mourning News...

2010-07-20T07:36:00.001-07:00

Went for a walk, care of the good man Lonnie Liston Smith, such an amazing musician and orchestrator!

This is for fellow Lonnie Liston Smith fans!

and you'd never guess!!!

caught the sandman out in the broad day light! the savage!
lurking for leftover dreams as the sun rises...the heathen!

but it's all beautiful when you have amazing music to fill your ears.

Thank you Charles (Mono/Poly)!!!

everyone, please check out his album!!!

MONO/POLY(facecrook)

sacrifice...

2010-07-20T05:55:00.000-07:00

what does it mean? ego-less, naked, unabashed. heartful. from the chest.

let's all learn to forgive and truly accept...

a poem written with the sunrise on this passed Sunday morning after a wild night at the art compound..Saturday nights will be the death of me...and rebirths on Sunday mornings...all so fitting...

this is to all those who have sacrificed their lives so we, and especially "I", could learn such integral lessons about life, living and loving...thank you all dearly! from the chest:

Hello beautiful,
such obstructive elegance,
distracting me with her swagger
of a dance.

It's nearly sunrise
yet the moon refuses to subside.
where can we go together
and share ourselves? collaborate in
beautiful disgust only to rearrange
fleeting wealth.

Who will forgive you in my
absence?
Let's never seek the transforming
precipice,
only growing with distance.
Undelivered semblance, don't blame
the public dis-service of imbalance.

I'm here, indifferent to the
question of when, or how,
why wonder in distrust
about love when there has
only ever been right NOW!?

thanks for the youtube to this song Grace!!! (グレース)

passed...now...

2010-07-15T03:43:00.000-07:00

what a doozeydayzy...

discovered some of the smallest flowers ever seen by these eyes

and right after twilight shifted to night, the moon turned red!

haha also discovered this - from the mountains last summer in Kobe! bahahaa!

cosmic boys and the dreamers - mr. O'Hagan and Yardbury

http://citywestjam.com/mt.jam2009/artist/cosmicboys.html

makin a return this year too! haha comin equipt though with the mpc!

skedoooo~!

おはよございます！

2010-07-04T06:06:00.000-07:00

indeed it is

enjoy!

my new home

2010-07-01T15:26:00.000-07:00

so I found a place close enough to the chasms and abysses of the ocean floors for me to reside in:

this is supposedly a reality.

undersea adventure

the owl hoots a welcome to the morning sun, a dove on the steps, a whole hearted smile from the chest...

2010-07-01T06:12:00.001-07:00

Placed against the wall of depth, of what dimension, I'll know not yet, not ever. Forever in wonder. Fanciful etude of summer springs forth, quite near to the ears. Direct pathways illuminated, the body won't be here forever, enjoy it in all the marvelously skewed ways! Seeking out a different source-compound to supersede all other, obliterating the very holds of spatial friction allowances. Bursting beyond the very invisibility of definitions, between the light & the heart lies perhaps the greatest distance in need of care, attention, allowance. Listen in close and you'll be sure to hear, don't doubt the rhythmic speech in foreign frequencies. It's always been here, all ways, coming around once again. greetings.

vanishing...

2010-06-19T12:58:00.001-07:00

no longer do i feel...no longer do i wish to...no longer do i wish...

simply:

yearning...

2010-06-16T19:14:00.000-07:00

I confiscate and confess that the ego too is simply a notion, invisible, non-existent until we sprinkle it with life, with our essence, most often unconsciously and unknowingly. Like Pinocchio, we're still exploring, learning, gathering and harnessing the very life we're so convinced of living. How many of you make love to time? to space? to neither and both simultaneously, fluctuating, flashing with the rhythmic pulse of distant torsion ripples touching entirety. The sage of space hovers about in his obliterated head, reaching the threshold of capacity, there is only a natural and significant orchestration that must occur before one can even begin to break down and disintegrate all the Earth-culture's toxicity we're subjected to. Polluted at every step, knowing it, seeing it's ferociously hideous misshapen silhouette, emitting a dispersal of transformed energy. All light gathers space, embracing the truth of what it absorbs as it perpetually travels, never stopping, never slowing, never knowing what immobility even implies. Let us all eat, drink and be with light, with love, with true acceptance which brings the beginnings of forgiveness...learning to forgive through acceptance. For don't we all yearn to be accepted for who and what we seem to be through our motions and words and gestures? Shattering the circles, the zero which only implies infinite potential, come walk with me in directions never experienced rather than dig deeper with years of cyclic speeds.

forgetting to remember:remembering to forget

2010-06-04T20:18:00.000-07:00

This unsanitary and momentary constellation does not seem quite fit, nor unfit, for the gaze to relay much more than what's to be remembered and forgotten again. How lovely the skies twist in somber tones adrift. I enjoy watching the suns set, again and again, the moons find ways onto my notebook sometimes. oh gentle brushing gust of wind, playing with the phenomena of photosynthesized life, come dance along the rhythmic thumping of the Earth's heartbeat, an electro magnetic ripple touching us all whether we know this or not. Unabashed, delicate. Honest. On the distance of illusion remains another world, another word, another kiss. Let's all share our memories, and our forgotten realities. Our imaginations are synonymous.

Holey dawknesses!

2010-06-04T13:48:00.000-07:00

So i said this the other day on zee facecrook:
"kinda wanna throw myself off some deep, dark edge, and into a chasm where I can soar to the floor...anyone wanna join?"

my dear brother and wonder-friend Ken Yamaguchi sent me lots of wonderful and gargantuan holes to leap into! The one in Guatemala City that just came about was first -

then he sent me THIS wondrous mysterious dot on the Earth ocean's floor...I want to just float down to the bottom!!!

Is there something fatally sadistic about wanting to float, so slowly and so deeply into an embracing darkness, that wonder can no longer exist beside you, or in a distance, but rather becomes you...and you it? Do we indeed run to the vastness when it's offered? Do we breathe in the toxic fumes of the ether and drift off to wonder? Let the salts melt on our tongues and liquids turn to catalysts and glimmers of starlit love, infinite!

have a cup of water and remember!

enjoy!

go get LOST!

please!

live in love!

BELIEVE!

2010-06-03T22:58:00.000-07:00

let's all believe and do this...and MORE!

enjoy!

Truly Touching Words...

2010-05-31T19:30:00.001-07:00

Shared with me by my dear friend and loved brother Justin Davis...
a dear friend of Dennis Hoppers...

here's a copy of a polaroid that Dennis just sent Justin before his passing...

Rest In POWER!

enjoy!

Shoppinghour!

2010-05-24T03:55:00.000-07:00

So I wrote a contribution, an article that spun out of some twisted place one early morning after mutating all night, the mind spent and hardly twitching...something slithered its way out and spun a web of an article. Please read not only my contribution but the entire issue, the theme is Secular Religion. This is the best issue in term of simple aesthetics and striking beauty, yet!

here's the link:

Shoppinghour.net

it's also on the right on my cosmic friends links list!

also a peep, a sliver of a fraction of what i've been up to, caved up painting lately

enjoy!

always a new day, perpetually new adventures await!

なう！

2010-05-20T08:14:00.000-07:00

Another sunrise, the sky is absolutely a wondrous blue...clear...endless.
Thanks to all my loved ones who wished me a happy birthday and who could be there in many ways, some in other ways, otherworldly ways. So many coincidences and magicks found.

thanks y'all! we all in this together, let's expand, believe, remember..and shine that smile, from the heart!

: Light : : :Love :

LIS-TENNNN!!!

2010-05-19T16:09:00.000-07:00

put some headphones on...do yourself that favor at least...please

bee-boop-deep-doop

2010-05-13T18:31:00.000-07:00

the air of the future seems to be thick with all sorts of 'waves' traveling and undulating at all sorts of different hertz. gigahertz, frequencies and channels and who knows what else!?!?! well we've all seen or heard of these, but its high time we start testing such simple and cheap gadgets. While my friend's pussy is all over me (his cat) there is a new connection between us...well it seems so. I've been wearing this Aluminum Foil Deflector Beanie all day long under my hat and it's honestly had this warm sensation in and around my brain and mind since setting this shiny peter pan cap on my skull. As someone curious about all things in this life, I'm always one to say, "why the fuck not?" and try pretty much anything that isn't going to instantly kill me...or very soon after induce such distance to 'being'. So I'll see what it's like to wear a Deflector Beanie for a day or two and see if anything interesting happens. All things, everything changes the way we perceive things, perhaps not entirely noticeable, but everything is slightly skewed by everything else, all these lights bouncing and playing in a perpetual symphony, this is our 'reality'.

Either way...go build yourselves an Aluminum Foil Deflector Beanie and see what happens for yourself!...and be CERTAIN to pay attention to step/picture 7...it's a MUST!

http://zapatopi.net/afdb/build.html

Enjoy your travels!

cosmic funky love vibrations...mirror images with light we all are...indeed!

2010-05-05T09:07:00.001-07:00

If you don't know my man Dam Funk...do, please.

love...funk styles

honest-tune-gosh

2010-05-04T18:31:00.000-07:00

been listening to this song pretty much ALL DAY!
with the light again. delirium is wondrous. the shadows glaring in such specific ways, saying hello to the sun and wind without a murmur...

enjoy

as always!

light and love to all

The inspiration of freedom through explorative madness

2010-04-29T10:53:00.000-07:00

This man is a true mystic, innovator, explorer, inexhaustible curiosity and wonder (wander as well), and, to me, a true master of the English Language (manipulator and mindfucker) through the precise manipulation of both spoken and written words. Thelema was his passion...no, beyond that, his life.

Please check out a book of his if you feel so intrigued as to who/what-beast has influenced so much (creativity, philosophy [the disintegration of it, to dissipate confinement], and mostly how to loose the facade of self and belief) of my life and being.

In light.

a greeting: "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law"
a reply: "Love is the law. Love under will."

Thelema...do some research if you feel so inclined

With the light, a loved one, and nature...inspired

2010-04-19T23:12:00.000-07:00

Amazing video of an amazing artist

enjoy

texture like sun

2010-04-03T22:01:00.000-07:00

warmth spreading, embraced by the twinkling glimmers of creativity. Cloud shaped skies reach out and the numbness hums a melody in serene tones, a soft opera with the voices of the wind. With each beat of the heart emits a divine allusion towards the coming shape of change, transformations aligning with space/time moon cycles. Lunar lights glisten, raining down with gravity's aide to enshroud the silhouette of the higher self magnetism in stardust.
where is it that all these borders came from? sprung up, this invisibility, like the confinement of incarceration, both physical and mental, forcing the boxes, the limited reach of context and the vernacular we're able to explore: infinite potential wrangled, caged and stolen of all conscious freedom. This underlying poison, the leech of life-energy, vampiric, oh how they make us believe in what's a mere fraction of actuality! The hope. The availability in creative originality. Unlocked potential forced to believe that 'a key' is the way to be free yet not realizing the impact of the implication that a key is even needed, by proxy, already imprisoned unknowingly.
Imbibed in the blood flow, the directions and vectors, trajectories in all directions, meeting, leaving, simultaneously. Conscious of each other, quantumly entangled, a form of universal connectivity, sharing being. This is all so simple to see, the calm flow, the desire to live on, it's all happening, constantly, within each of us. Relativity in clarity, face forward naked flash of an irresistible honesty.
Let's all share this.
Let's all hope for this.
Let's all become this.
for we already are,
just in wait to accept it
all.

Potions and Tats

2010-04-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

here's some recent photographs captured while journeying...psychedeRic!

and the finished tattoo. Sak Yant style

obsession: sincerity

2010-03-29T14:22:00.000-07:00

I don't have much to offer as a citizen...
or as a person in this modern race,
aside from honesty and humanity.
connecting hearts and minds alike.
If this is all I have to offer,
would you still
care
to know?

slumbers

2010-03-29T11:40:00.000-07:00

How long have I been asleep? Un-everything and seeping in corners so abundant that one can't find a difficult way out of it all, like breathing, coming natural and passing with the ease of swaying motions. Confined only by the willingness to abruptly shake and rattle the silly shapes we draw of our lives, hindered by the words we watch ourselves speak. Piano sonatas play with the rain. A gaze to change the essence of a day. Where was it all mistaken for just another sequence of nows and entwined with the consistency of expectations? Heaving each hope to stay alive, encapsulated in a couch hidden by the drawn shades, festering thought provokes a fractal array, we stay away. Demagnetized by some static disruption, the desire to be plucked from time seems to be a conscious set: intention-thought-motion -- in no specific order, rather simultaneous in structure. Spanning out beyond the latent measurements of time, which causes irregularities in the constant presence of 'being' (thought, creativity, expansion, retraction), the essence of interacting with the self which is only seemingly, reaching a point of escape velocity. Snapped-rubberband-pop-action-energetic emission, to become the commissary to provoke those still sleeping, wake up! The alarms have been snoozed perpetually, phone-ringers silenced and gagged by all means, this forced silence, this space between breaths, this space...causing a tumultuous wake in sentimentality, in honesty, breaking the very means by which we communicate before words, together, silently. In dreams the distance is but a notion, loose and malleable, but the structure we unconsciously agree on while waking can only be trifle philosophy, a void of formulated consistency shouldering its own weight. The paradox can stretch on and we can also continue to slumber, waiting, getting over things, settle into changes...but it still remains a constant, this shifting, this becoming. Blind irregularities embrace and gather to loose form and become a flow, a wave function of organic matter. Fluctuating awake, smiling.

eye on

2010-02-13T01:18:00.000-08:00

Wandering in a frustrated compound fraction of a consciousness, deliberately distanced from sensing what feelings may be, what could be. Possibilities become the tormentor, potential energy withers and becomes nothing more than wonder, the stillness of a gargantuan imprint making the most silent murmur the ears have ever heard. Distance, unreachable and mistaken for what's honest, and nothing can awaken this endless dream. Harmonious horrors and the scattered remnants of what once could have been cut away at my feet, leaving the scars and pain of each day, here, unable to move, directionless blunder. Caressing the notions of disappearing so no one can wonder, to become the lost memory which eats away at time's essence, a consequence which only behaves as the answer to a forgotten question. Cast beyond the island of exile, a hindrance bellows in masked names, it's all so foreign and grows to be more so with each morning wake. Shivering amidst the very fire to be lit but all the matches have found their way through the cracked pavement leading to joy, and so aimlessly I ponder what trash bin to make my home. They know not the true insanity that carries this mind along the wafts and breezes of the insatiable collision of a life alone, an eternity drenched in the colorless stagger I mistakenly call my existence. Pardon the handicapped inability. Forgive the scantily diminishing center of what was supposed to be my heart. Ignore the static, confused thoughts I assumed were my own. Translated to music, we always hope alone. For that's what we are: misguided translations of a frightened child's hope for life to be better.

Herro Inspiration Surge

2010-02-03T06:12:00.000-08:00

A rather odd flight east, before I could drift into the space I prefer on plane rides - passin out and waking up at my destination, a man on his way back to his seat collapses right beside my aisle seat and has a slight seizure. A doctor/passenger helped him, turns out he has an internal defibrillator, diabetes, obesity and I'm sure an array of other health problems along with forgetting to take his medication...and we wonder why the world looks down on Americans. Creating an odd energy, sleep wasn't peaceful by any means. I woke up about an hour out of NY with the most nauseous feeling which lasted most of the few first hours. Then the snow came bringing unique flakes of inspiration which gathered to embrace me in and lull the recent lack of said inspiration and joy to an unconscious death.

Having loved friends is precious. Peep my abode for the next few weeks

what y'all know about Bast?

or the homie Gary?

and this is what the morning brought

utter beauty pillowed around me. Blessed. Lucky. Graciously smiled upon. Choose any other synonyms and they could only begin to skim how wondrous it is to be.

light to each of you!

A taste of a favorite of mine

2010-01-17T20:55:00.000-08:00

This song is one of my three favorite tracks by Aphex Twin. Not only is the song mind blowing but Chris Cunningham's direction is genius in this one, as usual for them both. Check them both out if you've never heard of them.

Here's the video for windowlicker

enjoy!

now boarding confusion

2010-01-14T13:42:00.000-08:00

Distinctly distanced in disagreement, day after pills keep me in congruent agreement that shadow-cast sunlights are but a demeanor towards the crucial crux that balances our honesty towards the heartless, puss-filled fragrance of life's susceptible circumstance. Dismissed phone rings, banished to the bellows of an incandescent light's shout, a massacre in the streets below beckon shipwrecked curiosity and inhale the defunct notions of a past which are all that go down easily. SIGN UP NOW! MAKE MONEY! PARTY TONIGHT!: all the bells and whistles that find no wind to help life along. The ashen buildup falls, a calcification of dreams hardens and there are no TV infomercial answers.

A coward brought his broken system in a dilapidated box, water worn and aged with stains, it all seemed to be coming apart. The seamless dire straights followed, the pre-school glued memories of discolored cohesion, scraping at the falling pieces loosely connect the same cyclic speech of a vernacular worn away and frayed at every edge imagined. Peg-legged marathon hobbles forward, blind captives caught in a maze drawn in the fashion of failed ventures venting the very depths of a congested hope. Sickened by the very nature that speaks in bright tones, drunk with daylight, no place left to rest the battered elements of creativity. Punch-in to clock out all the irrelevant whispers wandering the confined buzz of a drug ridden demise. This relic could mislead the focal points erased by the cloudless sky. Wilting amongst the weather-beaten reflection.

Heroic inflection, notorious rejections, harmonic commotion, words defunct behind the shades of nod-off eyelids. Expressions of leisurely confusion rings specks of shunned galaxies hidden within heartfelt sentiments. Twirling, leaving behind the modus operandi to befriend a fading wind behind the enclosed state of the payphone booth awaiting demolition. The crumbling brink. The fading state of instinct. Vanishing amongst the queue forever building only to revise the ways of delusion.

endless twilight, perpetual night

2010-01-10T18:18:00.000-08:00

Contorted by the assort which catches the forlorn sight, sparkling and glistening before it all vanishes eventually. Abort! Abort! A,B,or,T? Quietly sneaking behind the skin which knows it's own story, scribed by an illiterate bafoon wailing on his basoon to harmonzie the unknown scraps so many of us try to make sense of. Locked in the distance, sleepless and hindered by a self molded circumstance so concrete in its repetitive passivity. Flailing in the slight gusts sent by friend's breaths from across the oceans and on the other end of the continent, a requiem for the past. Layering guilt as if it were sustenance. Simply still. As idle as those who forgot. Filling my innards with the scarce soliloquy of a rush towards the unknown, but does one mirror not show the very blemishes of our insides each and every time? Wilting wonder. Wander the shaded pathway and embrace the pile asunder you've become. To witness the whisper which dissipates the flakes of misshapen being, to bend till you're heart tells you enough is but a speck amongst the fractal horizon. Pushing. Destroying. Absent to all that reaches beyond what most consider 'sense' until infinity is entirely accepted as a trinket in our napsack of life. Bewildered in silence. I don't blink until my eyes tear and my innards find a way out.

Digital Death

2010-01-06T17:38:00.001-08:00

Perhaps the most annoying and oddest aspect of facecrook is the counterfeit immortality it unwillingly and unknowingly gives you. I've lost quite a few VERY close friends in 2009 and as much as I love visiting them in a quantum and spiritual way, I certainly don't need to be reminded of their absence in this dimensional path nearly everyday. There's that tiny and absurd box that reminds you of all the friends that you haven't contacted lately via facecrook, and of course, why would anyone really bother writing on a passed friend's facecrook page? Honestly, the intention is there and that's what really counts, but must one do it in such a public way? Or is facecrook becoming the first and preferred way for humans to contact one another more and more? Usually such a notion would find it's written form in a notebook of mine but I believe it's quite fitting to publish this online since it deals directly with this new 'online consciousness' and binary life we all seem to be willingly (and scarily enough, more frequently) participating in and for some, consumed by.

Yes I find it annoying that a computing system made up of 1s and 0s is unabashed to force you to remember not only the fact that your dearly loved friend is no longer physically present, but it reminds me of death. Though to me, death is simply a notion, the loss of a physical state has nothing to do with the epicenter of being but it certainly does relate to our physical state of experiencing being. I might also mention that I sometimes visit the edge of that chasm and peer down into the endlessness and wonder what's so enticing and mysterious about physical death and it's relationship with being. The moment we start living, we start dying, it's an unavoidable proxy of existing in this realm, but does the opposite hold true? The moment we start dying, do we start living? The simple shift in perspective shines an entirely new myriad of light across the entire notion of being, in life or in death.

So back to the whole 'digital living' thing. No algorithms of an individual's entirety is recorded in these databases online, no essence of who we are even properly translates over the computer screen (though I do admit we can share parts of ourselves with more people now, which is interesting in itself), so why the obsession with socializing online? Can one 'die online'? Is it possible to remove every speck of myself from the finite capacity of these digitized minds? Set off an EMP (Electro Magnetic Pulse) shock wave and theoretically yes. For the naturalists, the Sun's electro-magnetism, even an immense solar flare, could shut down all electronic devices on this planet, so yes, it's possible. But is it possible to wipe away the memory of a loved one from one's consciousness? No. Not even if we tried the rest of our lives.

The point of all this? I hope all of us learn to start embracing each of our connections with people in a real way (sometimes due to physical distance, online is the only way to contact some loved ones) rather than simply gain presence through a digitized illusion of being, living. If any of us need reminders of our friend's that have passed on, especially by a computer, then perhaps we are digitized already ourselves. We're all already alive and don't need to be constantly reminded of death, the absence of loved friends, or that fact that facecrook is a digital vortex trying to intentionally and specifically gather information on lives (likes, dislikes, patterns, desires, etc) that was entirely foreign to the computing world just 10 years ago for who knows what means. I live on not only for myself but for the loved ones who gave their lives to help fill the lives of the ones they loved, so I live on to also fill the lives of those I love. And I love you all.

Although this is a digitized message, the intent comes from the heart. Quantumly entangled, all of us, I hope the true message is received.

this song has also been on repeat:

Again and again

2009-12-02T21:57:00.000-08:00

I stick my face in, only to find that flames still singe.
Again and again, the whithering of my heart grows thin,
to the point where I loose all senses of what it is to be human.
Not this digital joke of texts and lies behind colons followed by
a closing parentheses.
Emotionless. Disconnection. Growing distance.
The inhumane treaties, the vampiric kisses, all worthless when
it comes to an end.
We'll ignore one another when we share space some place, it happens,
again and again.
The world speaks in foreign rasps when alone,
trapped in thoughts long gone.
Again, again.

published work

2009-10-31T14:25:00.000-07:00

It took forever...but finally I'm getting published!
check it out y'all, just click below:

Jeremy Scott Tokion Interview

feedback is greatly appreciated

dire faith

2009-09-03T00:10:00.000-07:00

It happens without fail, everytime, ruthless and unable to cross that barrier. My heart on a tiny saucer, waiting for her to eat it as my time is very limited on this place. Yet they all refuse the offering, time and time again, left alone, standing under the bruised moon, separated from all the stars, dispersed amongst the flailing winds. I feel like a speck of pollen fallen to the infertile ground, smashed into the Earth by careless by-standard-passers by. Ruined.
Clouded skies, no longer clear to me, my heart told me before it ever came, that fragile ache. So I smoke the smog of ages unknown only to chance that degradation which has lost all beauty, to enjoy my life as I see fit. My honest breath is so often taken as the song of the blues, my actions and motions as timid lack of aggression, but I know not how to force regret upon others. Her voice sends a certain thrill but know the reach only goes so far to penetrate a place I'd once resided, and can no longer call that place home. Yet I know I'm not the only one, and that makes me feel more lonely than ever.
Each spanning a different path, criss-crossing along infinity. Though there is definitely something about us, and I'll always remember that last time our lips met, outside, by that gate, my swollen face and eyes colored like the pinot grapes of Napa.

I navigate the endless night seas by your star-bright beacon,
compass to my directionless voyage
across the crashing waves of society's
storm.
Dehydrated essence, shipwrecked,
morning-star magnetism so complex,
the eyes of hope spring forth geysers,
rush towards the sun.
And finally, clarity.
I'm here. You're here. We've always been here.
Together.

THROUGH the chapel perilous and to the light

2009-07-16T08:10:00.000-07:00

I hide my sorrows in all I've ever known, I embrace the death that I've lived through on this planetary orbit. I've watched my friends give up without a fight, the fight I know they still embodied, yet this atrocious parlay we exist in, this horrid world we fill, became defeat. Snorting the dust of our dead brothers & sisters till our lungs give out and cherish love no more. Devoid. Vapid. A walking, barren sparse of land called the mind. Alone and distanced all at once, I find no home amongst the treacherous map of the solidified confines of the mind. I speak nothing new and therefore fall upon the silence of my own fading breath. There is no going back, there is no 'there'. Forever confounded by this sickened slick of excrement, this light is shinning bright for only the coming of a new nowhere. Lost sensibility, ruptured hope springs leaks all about me. I know not where I'm going nor where I've ever been. Lost amongst the endless sky. I am forever floating. You may hear my cries when the rain glistens lights after a storm, but be certain that there's not a single drop of dying hope. forever immersed in this cloud of waste, please take heed at what I've created out of haste: a whimpering knot of endless pain. I've felt the tears on my shoulders for ages unwritten, these freckles and moles, mere records of an age immemorial. Remembering why I came & left with each glance at all that's never left. A barren expanse of a golden age, no longer present, but wrought with rage. This is the final hurrah of a dying man, with colorless sight & numbed hands. Reaching out in any direction for a slight reciprocation, they entertain the fool with lost words & plastic smiles. Gone. Gone too far. Far too long. No shrug in sight to lift this weight I see with every move I make. To dissipate into the smallest of dots, a single point forgotten & lost. This is what I wish to be in my brightest hour, a single star in the endless matter. Come forth and throw my face to the concrete so I may possibly feel again and cease to feel unworthy. Do away with me, these allegories. I fade to musk at the dawn's entrance and wish this story upon not a body. Nothing at all seems real anymore, I've lost the will & can't sing the score. Forget me so, this empty identity. Forgive me Mother, for you taught me better.

In a fey state of mind

2009-05-26T14:09:00.000-07:00

Perusing the burrows of spatial existence. Awakened the twisting helix with a gracious touch from light, sound, vibrations: information. Struck by the star-burst pattern, the morning came as night set in. Tracing the grout holding it all together, each corner speaks facade and shows me the fourth (forth) dimension, clear-connection, no static, devoid of pitch and full of fractal tones. Flowing with the body, climbing the ladders tilted at diagonal angles, reaching into a new sort of heaven, a present paradise.

Fleeting images speak specks of glittered memories. Remembering, for it's all been here forever.

Sharing what can't be undone, releasing the orgasmic sensation freedom brings: accepting the spectrum of being entirely. A perspective arises from a sliver between meeting points. Interacting continuously, a fey whisper of voiceless speech wanders inside the very rhythm of your heart, affecting the entirety. Shivers of light connect all dimensionality to this closed-eyed-vision of our place with infinity. Laughter causes the air to rumble and infects all of our chests, filling them with bright steam of sweet scents, allowing a shared sense of relativity. The heart awakens again.

waking up

2009-03-21T14:31:00.000-07:00

we've all fallen and this will be the hardest time to get back up. an extreme spike in information has washed over this vessel and overwhelmed the senses for a while. carpe diem is but a momentary hurrah for the cheerleaders in the blind squadron. But no matter how many blindfolds and masks are removed, there still seems to be this question-less, haunting spectre that lurks beneath, bellow new cellular development and other healing energies. everyday was once a bright reminder that it all could be done, and lately nothing but neglect has arisen as the new sun that shines life upon things. Am I peddling (pedaling) backwards? Where does my scattered heart find silence? Lost beyond the frontier, the sunset can't bend beyond the horizon to reach where I now live. Iridescent thoughts only lead to more schemes of forgotten shades, dreams sing an entirely new cavalcade of words from a forgotten time. It's all wound up and tied into a bun atop the head of the sinking ship's captain, nestled underneath his staunch white top hat. reliance upon the whims of the night's air bring nothing but the silent hymn of forgotten friendships and lackluster love. I've come this far without an honest speck of knowing despite all the flimsy beds i've made, and yet, i'm still relatively safe, cozy amongst what I've lost and gained all at once, for it's all at once. Never there or here but always alive and caught in the shadow of dried blood.

Anthropological studies conducted in the mall: dwellers and their habits

2009-02-21T19:55:00.000-08:00

So after last night's adventure, I woke up and finished that post, had a few, and then went out to meet up my homies Tachi and Conrad. They were DJing an in-store for the adidas store. This is the mall's idea of an "in-store"

Japanese canned coffe: fission bombs on roids (up there with viet coffee even though this one had no caffine)

busted out the creep cam. Like a true conductor of a study, one must be discrete in order to capture and study the habits of the mall dwellers in their natural habitat: utterly stupefied.

In a hurry

In a daze

In a rage

I don't think he liked the 'ethnic music'

InTense (yeah, she's pregnant, at least it seemed so)

In...bad taste
This lady must have been in her 50s and in some little ass cutchie shorts like that...not classy at all.

Wait...they sell beer at the mall now?!?

Went out for a cig. like Rockwell said, "why does it feel like, somebody's watchin me?" cuz they probably are.

Kev decided to stop by to spin some vinyl he just grabbed at the meet of swapping

Even the kids get down when he hits the decks

Pictures of...pictures

maxin, relaxin

some characters

Eastern Europeans can't resist a good bass line and a beat

"You don't like-a de Untz-a-Untz-a?"

Went for Ramen after wards at mitsuwa

Where we came across this odd meeting of what seemed to be strangers...things looked a bit cultish off in their little corner

This lady was in this wild outfit that looked like it snuck out of my mom's closet back in 87, those bright purples and pinks and reds. Her hair was honestly, scarily impeccable, like Jane Jetson but blonde...with a blank cartoon stare (no blinks) to match. The crowd seemed to follow her like some guru

That's herd mentality for ya...

Just to prove how bright the herd can be, my friend needed some cigs from the 7-eleven and as I stood waiting outside, two of them walked past me...

The lady was happily commenting on how much she loves to have a job that allows her to travel..."I worked in Antartica, twice before..." The Indian (yes, India Indian) turned to her with a rather funny look and asked her, "Where???" She replied, "Antartica...ya know? The bottom of the world." If those are the perks of the cult, count me out.

All in all, I'd have to say that mall dwellers are rather interesting and particular, some are happy, some are sad, some greedy, some just glad to be there and alive. Enjoy your days off herd-folk, you need em to do more of nothing next week.

oh yeah...and the dreams drawn...
from this

to this (while listening to the homies play tunes in the middle of the damn mall, birthed on that bench)

enjoy the night y'all!

It's a funny thing, the things we get into...

2009-02-21T05:52:00.000-08:00

Indeed. This screen, radiant light source, fake facade, angular and twisted in an odd sense. Stretched out, towards me? perhaps, but that time has passed, that which was soaked, drenched in ego and blind names: words (sounds, vibrations) misguided. And time as well! Oh the sorrow which we've given that endless sensation, that which carries the very source of motion. Current. Soaring through a light oblivion which migrates all hollowed drowning seams, that which seems to be lost, yes, in each of us.

Who's to know anywise. Things shine and shingles fall: that bind the sensational heart, oh that magestry which knows the soars of the windless whispers between silences.

I'll leave this here for now...

(24 mins later)

After most all the lights are shut off, there's a new breath to the enclosure, apartment rather. There's a fine variety of art work my friend has collected, some lit in a certain way, intentional? who knows.

Either way, some of it is down right awe inspiring...haha under these conditions at least. Who likes to leave a paper trail anyhow?

Girly kept starin at me no matter which perspective I was at

An array of things sit on the table in front of me, some speaking amongst each other. Now I just tuned into that world for a slight eternity...but it must go on! the transformation must still persist! Origami hit my mind, was forgotten (or rather left behind in that realm of consciousness during the brief infinitum), and then came back with a soiree of colors. Odd how words form sounds in the mind and then reacquaint themselves with another spelling: the correct as some would claim. La-Di-Daaa!h!

Here's Jesus relaxin with me, he's a bit out of focus but my hand just didn't stay steady. With the rest of the visual world waving and weaving, it just wasn't happenin

also...

The latest in faux home protection!

VICIOUS!

Suddenly the bright (BRIGHT!) idea strikes me, some music would be lovely. Luckily I'm in a DJ's home so there are some proper ear phones. Encapsulating my entire head, mind, entity.

Eyes closed, captured in real time, give me a second and i'll give it a try, an attempt...:

fingers touch all day long, whimsical spores of endless informiations covered in goldenpink words where even the solid bends to mountains, pyramids in the morn, morning tilt of smiles, wrapped in every single spatial matter, ....the twilring pa tt er n, song change.

pirate clowns befooled into a day long galant adventure towards the hidden seizure of joy, ectasy in the wild winds where blending notions know no better than to believe in the whims.

spotted specked open, no cordial dear light to watch but the sun is coming and some things never really last as the sounds pass. bleeding the fool's patience and sanity in believeing in hope.

And here's the view from my homeboy Japson's pad at a bit after 6am

Upon waking up, there's a horribly caught, perhaps stuck is a better word to use in this case, clot of phlegm that's between my throat and nose and hinders all swallowing by casting an odd sensation, a thick, gunky one. I suppose I'll end this tiny venture for a bit.

eyes cutting through disco lasers...

2009-01-12T09:49:00.000-08:00

Hungry Eyes

There seems to be quite a lot of staring going on in the silence/intense, thumping noise of clubs and bars from NY to LA. One of the most obvious and revealing looks during those inaudible hours where a conversation is lost to the scream of basses and beats, is 'the hungry eyes'. This is seriously a new language forming here, especially for those of us too shy to ever try (shit, I'll be honest, this includes myself) a damn thing and instead, end up cursing yourself the entire cab ride home. There are a multitude of variations to the hungry eyes that have been witnessed, some familiar, some as shocking as the plus symbol on a pregnancy test found in your daughter's trash can. There's the usual and most innocent, kind, gentle, inviting set of eyes, saying, "come over and say hi". Things get a bit sultry with the obviously beckoning pair of hungry eyes that nearly sing to you a sweet siren's song. And sometimes things get rough, a tad desperate, even straight up delirious, and out comes 'the starving eyes,' or yet, the 'i wanna inhale and engulf you' eyes. The latter being the most obvious and even slightly scary or frightening, depending on the peepers they're shot from. Just tonight in fact, this him/shim/she/herm in the most unflattering, mod, grey and black stripped dress (open back to portray her aging folds), was giving my friend the 'i'm homeless and hungry' starving eyes.

An entire spectrum exists in the realm of the hungry eyes. There can be the "ooo la la!" reaction from the firey eyes of a beautiful bird, and then there can be the "oooooh hell naw!" intrusive and annoying stare some creep can send your way. Like life, you gotta take the bad with the good. Just make sure you know what kinda hungry eyes you're displaying and to whom it may concern. No one wants to fall into the deep abyss of the unwanted hungry eyes.

Back to tonight.

Sitting against the wall on this oversized wooden bench, watching the youngins with fake IDs dance and wiggle their bodies to shitty tunes (YES! NY does NOT play good music at most venues!), when out of the crowd worms this TANKED chick and her bridge and tunnel boyfriend nearly holding her up. She sits down and is remarkably able to take her camera out of her purse. This classy lady had a different set of hungry eyes, we'll dub these the creepy leprechaun eyes, like that lil dude from the leprechaun movies, glazed with a tint of evil intent lurking behind the glassy stare. She begins to snap photos, she nearly takes one of herself first hardly taking notice that the camera lens is actually facing her own mug. Those leprechaun eyes were up to no good when I found them staring. Next thing ya know, she tries to be a drunken-sneaky, gold-hording imp and creep from behind her boyfriend to snap a photo of my friend and I who are simply sitting, awaiting the hopes of a good track to listen to at this random party. I turn my entire body to block this, you'd think such body language would be enough. Not for this broad. She seats herself next to me, basically shoving her body against mine, and begins to slur some inaudible blah blah to me while holding the camera towards us as if saying "hey, get in the picture!" I give her the 'is you crazy???' look and kindly tell her no thanks. Them eyes light up with a severe confusion, still hungry for some crumb and determined to get a bite. I turn again to talk to my friend, telling him about this nutty creature when suddenly a flash explodes from behind my head and I see my friend saying, "you can't just do that." Apparently, she did a shark move and slowly snuck up to the surface (around my head) to grab a mouthful. Hungry trick. She tries again and again to take pictures with us and as kindly as humanly possible, we ask her not to take pictures of us. Insatiable hunger overwhelms her and she starts to slur some more sludge from her mouth till we flee and have a cigarette out front.

Ladies, point of advice: don't get too drunk and send this last type of hungry eyes. They aren't flattering AT ALL, for anyone, after a point in the night.

What ever happened to taking it slow or just getting to know someone before rushing into the raging fires of hell? or is that just the old fashioned prune in me?

p.s. know your dealer

glancing at corners

2008-08-20T15:26:00.000-07:00

Everything was succumbing to the trails. It was surely the end, nothing spoke anymore. Only metallic screams from soft mouths made sounds. The numbness spread across the forehead and the skies were left blotted out by a bloody moon. Eyes sore, no one bothered to look anymore. Anymore. Any. More. Begotten ache, poking at my blinded consciousness, death was ignored and only got the answering machine. Tiny clouds cried all throughout the summer days that month. How the dried flowers held their color I do not know. How redundant connections found a mate quite frankly scared me during sleep. Waking up to a stagnant delight only helped the bacterium spread. Sore spots sang outside, a foreign jumble rotted all the fruits of our helpless labor. It was time to go crazy once again. In between the tiles lied a slight sliver of untouchable space, a delight that immediately caught my eye. Hurrying towards it, I fell on a knife invisible. Who’d been so kind to leave it there? Waking a phantasy so lame, the autistic children screamed all at once and created a new symphonic frequency. Pulling out the chair to lay down and die in, I found a crying mouse with a black handkerchief. Asking it, ‘why the flowing tears.’ It could only sob and point at my right side. Upon looking, I noticed a gapping hole filled with old Christmas decorations, ornaments covered in an old mold. Tiny critters crawled and sparkled in the shade of my wounded body. It’d all began to deteriorate. Disintegrating the past and future in the same moment, I could hardly bare to look or breathe. You’ll cry to death a voice said from the distant midst of confusion brought about from the streets four stories below. Stacked layers of history lived simultaneously in a wilting convent. A mysterious hum sprung from above, then the sides, and finally the front. Mirrored in the skin, the bloody secretion of bound secrets that fall off the lines of blank pages. She sung a high note shattering the sky. A sunken rope tangled in the tears of millennia rose up, then spread in all directions of misguided hope. Shaving the nails that stuck out, the dirt from underneath fell to the floor covered in sporadic single hairs like a dusty snow. A slush to taint even the darkest shadows of diligence splashed, splattering the broken faces of forgotten dolls of one girl’s childhood pleasures. The legs gave out and all the notes screamed from the grand piano, a suicide no one expected to sound this way. The brilliance left his face as he lay still in the casket. I stood there wishing he’d simply flinch one more time in that golden pavilion that echoed all our silenced cries. The rain came from outside and splashed yesterday across our conjoined memories that this had all happened before. Why? Crawling towards the spilt ashtray of our rushed lives, rotting all hellos and goodbyes. My back ached, sending a shiver throughout my turning mind. Round and round the flames gained height. No longer able to go on, we scrapped our skin away to reveal scabs that never healed quite correctly. Injured souls confined to this melancholy inhalation of each other. The sarcophagus of tomorrow played a tune that faded before it began, stars blotted out by bright knives shaving necks in dreams. The pools of blood were so great that time decided to cease all movement and grace space with a touch so full of intent that the planets quit their orbits and began to rotate in unheard of ways. Directionless, we wandered the bloated landscape of the chilling floor beside us. White hairs sprang from great wells, geysers held together by the mere mention of a fractured sanity, pressurized by fear. Who knew these voices could hear the sun’s dying days as they crept so near? The distance left us with a singular point to stare at, the fading now transformed itself into a gust of wind and escaped with the velocity of an exploding rocket ship aimed at the empyrean of reality. Never to show its twinkle again, we faded into today and forgot our true existence of gold and silver and white. Nothing became our focus and our disguise during brief shivers of love.

dot

2008-07-11T00:22:00.001-07:00

I am but a dying whimper fashioned in a facade of a body. conducted amongst the smog of being, trails left in the winter skies of july, a cloud loosing shape. infected by the loss of friends, solitude's angel. whisp of a beaten neglect carried amongst my chest, trapped beneath this shroud of sporadic particles quickly fading back to cosmic dust. shattered star pattern, timing has never been a good friend. I clink glasses and cheer disintegrating moments as I know they'll never be the same again. half-smile, camoflauge enjoyment as I breathe in deep the indigo winds. shattered plates scar my feet as i follow no path, drowned out by the macabre light my lenses can only find, stale monotony in my monogomous death. drill bits awake me from the sweat drenched bed sheets and i clamour to ignore the transiency of this waking fall some call life. taken aback, sore infections speak of the bloody gash i call my face. head trauma. thoughts.

and it all begins...

2008-06-27T00:55:00.001-07:00

A fractured falsity. the counterfeit culture gains numbers, but a head count is not a thing more than a frivolous gesture. The maneuvers have gone all wrong, a skewed, off course. Where the fuck am I anymore? Lost amongst the players, the fanatics enchanted by this game, a rat-race that speaks as the facade for all our collected history of being, and what have we? Killing machines to drive us nuts with fuel costs, distractions that sound and look as a leper feels: absolute disintegration. Disregarded. aching in the midsts of a thought, confused by sight for sore eyes that see all that's not... but insistent that existence is there. Never here. Vibrating along the static sound of an out of tune existence...but it's all up to me to see beyond the far-reaching distance. Now. The shift must be made. It's the only hope, all other routes are burnt, singed by unconsciousness.

some older random writings...

2008-06-04T05:04:00.000-07:00

resonance of times to be

Ravenous structure today, the waves become audible in each action filling the emptiness that only exists in memory. Building wings to fly because of severe impatience and longing for the high skies, yet each time we find the air to be too thin and once again, in a flash, we're grounded. Punished for reaching out for our hopes, for closing our eyes to dream, but rushing to get into the fast lane thwarts consciousness for monetary gain: distracted once again. Simply left with the metamorphosis Kafka showed each of us: this longing for attention for our self-proclaimed accolades, the distance brought about by alienation from those we support and love due to our self-prescribed pity and distance, forcing invisibility in our constructed destitute of depression. In the transitional end, it all comes down to our last bad act. That adheres, imprints itself in the unconscious tangents: the bear traps butterflies get stuck in. Adaptation to such notions draws the contrast and once again we're no longer holding the crayons. Giving into the colony, living up to the cliché destination that only holds mystery, interest, value, fame, money (you can pick your poison), in the chase for shifting shapes that you want to solidify. Nature's ability breaks all which beings have made and the resonance of waves becomes closer and thinner. The break becomes change for the days will go on in this constant measure of life's musical rearrangement of chaos.

optional angle

the carnivale sensations of the glints the morning brings. Traveling though a transitional belt of energy as the lunar rays whisper with a twinkle, does this sensation help us believe? On a layered shore, alibis dismantled, structures speak no more. Filling the silhouettes with my breathing voice, I'll never echo the past or ring in the future with a drawn out map. hanging off a terrace of excitement, i need a hideout to stow away in for a few nights. lets savor this scent as we walk out of plato's cave with the third eye wide open. No need for Saturn rings to make us together in this eternity of cosmic being, and i wonder how Osaka is like in spring. dancing on the ripple of the sky's smile, another night awaits, so I dream during daylight.

psychedelic psychic

What fun to speed away. Bending light and the notions that have calcified my mind since the first time words were spoken at me, moonlight has a certain way of speaking till it gives way to the day. Tomorrow actually starts at night, never during sunlight or when you wake from conscious dream states, funny how we're taught to assume so drastically differnt. Tuning in by giving into the flow, never a stuttered thought between action and silently spoken feelings. Delusions of time passing, the only distance to refer to is that which holds my soul down from connecting with the rest of me, the apparent silhouette that senses seem to favor unconsciously. Fractured value system due to my persistence, I'll shatter you soon. Being numb is still feeling regardless of what the heritics claim. Relativity found in the displacement of energy traveling through my point of being. Come out from the shadows, come out and play.

forgetting the forgotten

Deflated embodiment of nobody, sails caught in the torment of wandering thoughts. Could this go on? Is there anything else in the residual dishonesty discovered under the dried leaves? Magnified in a sleepless span, hours fall from the clock's hinge and hands turn up empty. Delusion megalith, contaminated business plan, a courier for infections of disillusion. The forms speak yet say nothing. Built and sent to the age of antiquity, lasting for decades in a shrinking frame. Enclosed in the drawn blinds, suffocating between sentences. It's a pity to realize that navigating through loopholes has lost its curiosity. Faded wonders and worn honesty find a new way to propel themselves. Keystone treasures.

some new...some old...

2008-04-11T17:16:00.000-07:00

Clarity

Driving. Swallowed. Open the palpable connections that we make strangers or bystandards, unnoticed sensations. Depth, the world moves and speaks out in an eclectic magestry of coincidences. The cherry blossom festival happened upon us, Tokyo reminiscent. Origami. Trees for adoption. The visage of dreams, some things can't yet reach beyond a threshold of comprehension, come to life. The winds blew away all the old, toxic factors that normally keep one close at bay. Suddenly the timing seemed right. Getting up, to my feet, in the skies. Not this time, not this life, but someplace else the opposite occurs. Knowing this is enough to fulfill a million lifetimes. Just simply knowing it's there, in some forms or others. Enough love to fill the outline of a tear, then the oceans, our planet, universal. Microcosmic fractal of being, we turn to leave and it all begins to fall apart, disintegration at the turn of the neck, to the left. Facing our backs, it all shifted to chaos. Colors blew off their relation to objects, umbrellas upturned and guarded the skies from us for once, paper napkins unfolded like the pages of a brilliant novel of the universe's tales, told over and over again: a loop, on loop, 3 loops of gold. This novel is never to be re-read again. The moment we leave, we really leave, anywhere, everywhere. To capture the nuance of one of these breaths, so full of life, love, hope, to perhaps show you in some way, some light, without a fight...this would make me smile.

nnnnnnnnn...

now. now. now. When is it never not now? It’s always been here, forever present, a spectre of the current. Shadow consumer, fresh dinner for sustenance, ideal or dreamt. Remove this veil hidden under the paths of light, that which very well enshrouds the fabrics of being. Soft senses, finely woven, braided by Georges, the X quotient becomes Magneto, the Frog enchants. Variable interchange. Emblazoned upon the forehead, i’ll see past and beyond, the very intention itself resonates in each conscious breath. Expand. Retract. Fractal outlines of exponential lives. I’m becoming who I’ve always been. What a funny notion since I’ve always been. Be. You. Me. Trinity speaks and melts with the touch of fingerprints left from Aeons ago, visually speaking today. Lunar rays awake me, come out and play. A soft dance with the rhythms, the waltz of chaos, the samba of balance. Fire energies off with the marching band, align chakras with my breath, i can. Can’t we all? Sensual harmony. We co-exist. Let’s share like it was PRE-school again.

ago: haunted

I thought about ripping it all down. No one looks when the windows are open, the blinds peeled away from their place. A facade spoken in silence so that only diamonds could capture their essence in refelctions of lights, began to waft about the battered path. Reverse-direction-glance, was it the truth forced out of the chest by some other strand of dead-weight words giving life to all new? Distracted: a yell from a far off place, "dinner is ready!" I'm stuck in the country home of a retired addict, death finally found them sober, and listless as my head may be, their voice echoes along the high ceilings, calling out to a child of 13. Doing their best. Berating all notions of honesty, convalescent timing has no place under that breath of theirs, snarling with the hot steam of defiance and assurance. A spectre it is not but rather a tired memory too worn to realize what time it could be anymore. I am wrapped around in this cubicle, doing the work of both good and evil despite the disregard for man's-made rules under the roof of the sky. Patronized by an undefinable microcosm of existence. This is the personification of the last gasp of life. Lost, haunted by the notion of committing to something that may change one's sense of being as it is known. Such a pity, sharing has lost its locomotive sense of inspiration, this spreads across ones awareness of their own boundaries. BreakdowncrashfuckingdeathlyexplosionBANGbangdisintegrationpopotherresidence!!!!! Morrison said it best as 1966's summer came to an end, no repetitions needed. Tuning in with the great pleas that fell upon distracted minds, destroying keys along with their confines. Herald these screams as war cries. Alas, tiring out the breath has become humans blind intention whilst unconsciously grazing along the boulevard and Wilshire, filling stations for the insatiable hungers prescribed. By the kitchen top slab, silence forced upon me. Her lesson was spoken in a newly formed language of action and silence that formed words in their aftermath. Nothing but flickers of flames found a place in the night's filling quiet, connecting to all vectors deriving from everywhere and nowhere in the simultaneous current.

daily executions in wonder

but a speck. on an endless wall tilting in an infinity expanding beyond dimensional temporality. Tipping off invisibility to the whereabouts of a wisp of the sweet wind which all thoughts are made of, an unconscious concept we can no longer relate to. root level elementary, resilience of the thin layered flimsy outfit we come into this life with is nothing more than a simple form of illusion in the name of disinformation: a test designed to test the designed, a chaotic fragment of consciousness. vertigo web. The rough draft of the path to death is nothing more than that, a tale and story so convincing that it steals life, which actually fulfills it's intent of being. At least some things still have function.

what could be most likely could be what?

plastic pop. dream icon. featureless main presentation sponsored by unconsciousness. ungrateful commemorative plates stacking up along the side wall of the shrinking space called home. It's no longer where the heart lives but close enough to the edge of invisibility, well, isn't it all at this point in the journey? at this point...point at this, finding everything in nothing: masturbatory zen orgasm. Fulfilled expectancy dry heaves all morning, waking up is a lot harder to do when the sun is roasting the insides of autumn and mangled binary text messages are woven into the banks of memory: gone to watch the pretty birds weep. Disconnected to be reintegrated into the Franklin Mint of complacency. Robots no longer require a disguise as they're your new neighbors, in the cubicle next to you, that empty seat collecting deja vu dust particles filled with stories to span cosmic-light lifetimes. A brainless fart, the stench and reverberation of the calls of warning that reach nobody, left out to collect ill-energies and rot at the bosom of humanity. you, shiny reflection everyplace. Destructive facade invading conscious thought. it is you which hides so well, masked by the time-sensitivity of life, consuming the connections we once all shared. You're at a distance too far to make out now...or are you too close?

shifting seasons

summertime dreamer, there's a smear on your face. Forget wiping it off, the
cold rain outside hardly speaks anymore and this is the cry to find peace
between waking and sleep. The house is all but drenched, soaked by age and
damp with life. Languages unspoken to the sleeping ears, searching so hard
to find cohesive meaning, so long, that it's lost by the time we find any
manifested connection. Brown leaves amongst a sea of green, no light for the
hungry.
The notion of departure slackens the taught heart and the strangle hold of society's impatience. we rush towards the finish line where the only thing that awaits is a face drained of light. speaking out loud while observed by those still awake as I dream, childhood manifestation of true intent which has fallen victim to rush pushing at me from all sides. Monetary gain, materialistic fame, the surface is no longer able to hold my weight and cracked concrete meets my face. gentle melody, lead this gaze in motion to a place unfamiliar to yesterday. A land with gentle hands, no allergens to catalyze a irrational scratch which only worsens the spread of defunct ideas, those moist with nervous precipitation my body unconsciously emits. transist. glorified appeasement of other's eyes can only be found in the personal sector of the mind which cowers at the crowd. Vibrations of ill-sentiments cloud my bright glint, perception becomes overcast, consuming the conscious variety of all possibilities let go by infection. Someplace along the way my breathe caught a viral wind and waking hours are spent in the shade. Counting digits, caught up in the investment that'll never pay off with such little hope. Residence of such an ancient building where the bricks crumble at the slightest touch. My fingers gaze along the bumps, the stories of another's trampled dreams, the reverberation of songs lost to the vast populous that might have just helped open the third eye realization that all we perceive is hardly a fraction of this universality. existing for tomorrow melts the wick, disintegrates the flickering flame of passion in each of us. Intend a true smile for yourself, don't allow the rest to dictate your desire. I'll share this belief with you all, my neighbors, no matter the distance.

discovered...

2008-04-07T16:26:00.000-07:00

the forest of organic beings...

...new mediums

2008-04-07T16:24:00.001-07:00

and the brain...two phases.

april

2008-04-02T01:48:00.000-07:00

you excite my heart, dissolving matters to the purity that amalgamation can bring. Courtesy flush, hands brush, lining the paths paved by two pairs of hands. minds contemplate and hearts desire, growth, abnormal or askewed, asymmetrics are what we're made of. floating. the stars. cosmic dust harmony soothes the tones that weigh down on tones fading. silence. conducting orchestral anomales, be my draft on warm days. the breeze that sends a nostalgia for the future to come and abruptly disrupt me from this dream. in between life and death we waltz on this thin balanced edge. twirl the world, spin the unspun, reconnect all that's been forgot for so long. so long. goodbyes are never quite real between our eyes. success is but a fantasy wavering in fleeting rushes. spun. a new world comes to play. neon fish waddle their way in mid air, hanging fluorescents entwine the difference in distance we can be blind to, not forgetting but never the undoing. precious collaboration. sense me across instantaneous transmissions, we teach one another about the skies over and over again, combine.

dancin in the moonlight

2007-11-25T18:05:00.000-08:00

oh vegas, you sparkling strip of lights and highrise facades. fanatical thought zooms by as we rushed the night and tomorrow through to your town. I wrote you a note and left it for no one to find as none look around anymore for anything less than wavering bills held down by the tips of ideas. Here's what I wrote in a spurt of seated whims at the desk of the penthouse:

No place. Everywhere, confused to be somewhere. Playing nowhere to know where the gamse are played. Second place. Third place. Placing none. No names to be anyplace. Being everyplace. Placing where everywhere becomes noplace for those everyplace pacing nowhere. Where are we?

Supernaturaldelight! spanning days for what felt like years in the dream box. Curved victorian fads and pinstripped walls bleeding in frames of flowing flowers. What happened to the hallway?

adieu till next time you desert space

Dig deeper

2007-10-24T03:20:00.000-07:00

The other night I was downstairs and the TV was on, the news on one of the network channels. I was under the assumption 'news' should be of some interesting topic and perhaps a bit informative, 'a bit' being the lowered expectations of today's media in any form. A story comes on about this kid, really, he was maybe 13 or 14, who was speaking to the Los Angeles city council about getting the ranking officials to sign up for his club...get this, the 'no cussing club'. This is bizarre on a multitude of layers. First of all, this child has no clue what it really means to curse, which brings me to the next point, 'cussing' isn't really even a word. Just because it's become a word in recent times doesn't mean shit to me really when his club is based on the use of words. Next, this dim wit goes on to explain why he started the club and his little ditty goes something like this: "my friends who never use to 'cuss' started 'cussing' and I just want them to be who they use to be and not 'cuss." What new sort of ritalin have they subjected our youth to? Are you for reals?? He wants his friends to be who they use to be? Well first lesson in life kiddo, we're all changing, constantly, that's what being in the third and fourth dimensions does to our human forms and minds. Get use to it quick or keep up the ritalin prescription. What I find to be interesting about all of this is the bare bone semantics this club is focusing on. Words are nothing but air, vibrations and halatosis...oh, and you need at least one sense to even know they exist. I wonder if the club members simply concentrate on actually uttering a curse word or do some of them *gasp* internalize the lesson of not sending out bad vibes and hatred towards others and come to realize that something actually comes before the cursing in their being? The intent behind the curse word comes far before the actual use of the word itself. Simply training to keep yourself in check before sputtering out the curse word only reaches towards band-aiding at best. Get to the root of the problem: the fucked up passive surface dwelling we numbly accept as lessons in our society are doing nothing aside from perpetuating the idea that holding up a facade will get you through life, and start fixing things from the heart of it all, have a little heart, be a real being for once: yourself. Practice a little self-awareness and get rid of those archaic values that are pretty much dust by now. Did I mention this club has spread across the US and a number of other countries? Words mean nothing yet they cling to them like wrists on a crucifix.

What's next? the no bitching club? or is that paradoxical?...good.

a quick thought

2007-09-19T04:55:00.000-07:00

koce,

flipped the days around, a whirlwind of twirls and insights.
the edge faced again, paying for the visit in so many ways,
dying to figure a way out of this sequence of orbits.
reset, give consent to yourself that's so familiar in fleeting
glances. glints arousing the lunar magnetism i'll share with the
distances and throw them into the current. fucking static atmosphere
blindly perpetuated by so many. motion will cure it all. I will indulge.

some old blogs

2007-09-19T04:35:00.000-07:00

April 17, 2007 - Tuesday

shivers

the old ghost of a stolen silhouette lingers in the light. Lost in each thought, guided by the shadow's delight in a televised masacre. Not only do the macabre sensations fill the frontal lobe of thoughts but they reside deeper inside and hinder any movement. It may very well be the final bout in deviation, loosing sensations of how to be alive, how to devise a new direction to lead positivity in the darkness of redundancy. Alas, the weight of a lofty phantasy comes tumbling down on the fading scalp. The calendar lies and age is only how you feel all throughout your insides. Disintegrating. Dust in the wind's mouth. Sunshine washed away by the rains. The frigidity of the air is only compelled by the lack of heat in the shower head: slowly coming to terms with the lost energy. Found the lost sensibility in dreams but they never transfer over to the sense of being a waking being. Stuck between the unknown and numbers disappearing, giving into the waning ticks of today. Carpe diem is a lie to invoke hope yet all we find are shards of glass dancing at our feet. The tetanus of life, infectious sense of trying to become 'somebody'. Unable to move, frozen in the midst of spring, the growing skeleton silently whispers to me: tomorrow we can be together.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

following boy's day

After loosing any sense of health, wealth, and well-being, I've arrived at a new epoch in this continuous rage which some of us refer to as being. Time has really found no new sense, each moment or each day all come to mean the same thing, unless you play the game of memory and recollection. But what is all that aside from the acts of a pack-rat? The boy has died. Does this mean new habits are in order? Changes must be made in the ranks? Yes and no...and this seems to point towards the answer to the underlying question. Maintenence of balance is essential. Some may wonder (including myself), do you feel or define when life reaches out towards one extreme? I'd say it's much more of a feeling...and that's all I can rely on. Words are shiny objects. Some use them to stab, others to intice (themselves and others). Most use them for reflection of self, basking in the limelight you've created yourself. Creating the self: must be undone.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

"let go!!"

most visible ability so easily overlooked while im woven into this reality, I can only be what I allow myself to be. No subjectin to the collection of notions passed around like propaganda's the new love potion. Fabricated walls I often bump against, governing more than just the suface-thought content, but I tell myself I'll invent the unthought of remedy, realizing the smiles that bound and bound to layers, building me up to face this adversity. The only one to blame can be your own absorbtion of situation's essence, complex solidity is really atomic particles cris-crossed so dense you think you can't manuver through it; fuck it, facts are hardly solid unless they're viewed to be. is it half of duality thats the anchor to my departure? gotta let go of man and embrace nature, crumbling self-constructed structures.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

falling debris

eric the mastermind, orchestrator of such a trip, seven feet tall and deceitful with his wit. Glasses thick as bulletproof glass, shields to the soul so as one can't read his hollowtip demeanor. So Joshua has Trees in the desert, how lovely, lets take a nice ride over east to the fridigity of meteor showers. Dotted lines build the darkness to sight, an all together different mode of perception in ancient transition. Interesting enough to hear foot steps patter at your back when theres nothing but sky there, dimensional membrane penetration. Turn around to see the ground speckled with comets. Lets see what we can't see. The debris begin to ensnare universal connectivity, green sphere cut by slant planes in cube shapes, transmitting my composition of immediate emotion to sound-brain waves, no packets neccessary for pirates fall in short distance. The tear in the night only forces demise. Snap shot impossible. Fear and Loathing amongst the sand. Keep on driving, whats behind us is left there for a reason, keep driving. Minutes to days, no allowance for sleep, gotta keep up with reservation guidelines. Drawn back to the mastermind, he comes out to check on us, a whole-hearted wave seals the escape.