7.6.09

I'm just kind of clicking on things
pulling hair out of drains
evading people who live in the internet and
creating order with braces
punched in the faces of models

clawing at animals
repelling objects
taking things inside of me
feeling vulnerable and shit

maybe I should be more social
maybe I should take more pictures of "social activities" that I partake in so that I can post the pictures on a public networking site and feel really interesting and loved, like I do "interesting things" and am "living life to the fullest" and have lots of "meaningful relationships"
maybe I should take more candid polaroid shots of myself so that I look like one of those effortlessly creative people who go to interesting parties
maybe I should write a long list of writers whose blogs I like reading and post them on the side of my blog, even though they are the same writers listed on everyone's blog
maybe I should show people that I like the same poets they do or something, that I appreciate the "hip" writers of my generation and have credibility
maybe I should learn how to "network" with people
maybe I should actually submit some poetry somewhere, I have never tried to publish anything
maybe I should be less intense and critical of things so that I do not intimidate and alienate people
maybe I should pretend to give a shit about your photos and your twitter account and smile and be all cute and stuff

Fail.

I am disturbed and frustrated and angered by many things and tend to explode outwards in a messy fashion, all over the streets, radiating hostility and anger and confusion like that one person who sees the iceberg hit the ship and tries to warn the passengers before anyone knows they're going to die. I have a desperate desire to touch people and pull them away and organize bodies and tell people how I feel under streetlights at 1 in the morning; people who are drunk and happy. But my glassy eyes do not penetrate those skins, never, and I want to let them be. I want to give them their smug happiness. I have those moments too, and I do not want to be penetrated, I do not want eyes to hurt me at night.

I'm watching the Blair Witch Project. I really like this movie, I feel a lot happier when I am watching horror movies. There are 30 minutes left and they just ran out of cigarettes and the girl is hyperventilating. People will die soon. I think I like horror movies because of their inevitability. The viewer is a prophet or a god watching things unfold without the responsibility of warning people.

6 comments:

  1. Your cynicism rings true in ways you can't imagine. These words are lyrical, even when they're just your venting frustration. Thanks for giving me something decent to read every once in a while. Are you a "hip" writer? Am I a person who lives on the internet?

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  2. Jeremiah's question can be answered with a yes. I like your poetry a lot. Could I remix your work sometime?

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  3. I would say no, no (quite the metaphysical question) and yes to 1979. Remixing, yeaaaah.

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  4. You are well on your way to perfecting a voice that runs a direct conduit to your spirit. And I don't mean 'spirit' in some vague new-agey way, but spirit as in the quality of the movement of being. It reminds me of a more lyrical Anais Nin, but that may be because I've just read Anais Nin. In any case, not many people can claim both honesty and the universal transformation of honesty that makes up the sap of what we call good and true writing.

    And yeah, you've just about summed up what I love about horror movies as well.

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  5. Oh Jerome, I love you. We really have to chill.

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