ones and zeroes

Better living through modern chemistry.

4.15.2005

Asobi Seksu had finished her set of poppy rock, laced through and through with these eighties-ish organ-like keyboards that had me bouncing and shaking my head like there was no tomorrow, drinking Sierra cause it tasted so mighty fine refreshing. Johnny whispered something into Lucy's ear, she signaled to me, and the four of us - Johnny, Daylen, Lucy and myself - all went downstairs into the back.

The door clicked shut and we took our seats where we could. Johnny pulled out his batty and a baggy that, when opened, filled the room with an odor I can only call "You can't wait to smoke me." 2 solid lungfuls of smoke later, we were headed back upstairs to catch the rest of a set by MONO, this awesome post-rock band I had been told was similar to Mogwai.

I leaned against the cold brick wall along the right-hand side of the room, feeling an all-body all-mind high rushing over me, aware of all my capillaries and arteries as they chugged along like organic steam engines to keep me running keep me standing while my mind was bathed in sound. I fell right into the music, the slow droning guitars, the building bass, the declarative and undeniable drumbeats, and understood deeply and wonderfully that music is truly a Temporal art, and in that moment it replaced time. Anywhere it went, I went. Anything it felt, I felt. If a note was plucked, it was a reflection of how I felt. And how I felt was a reflection of the note just plucked.

I started writing words inside my head and fell in love with language all over again. It seemed to me that language suddenly didn't even need to be something so concrete, a concretization of the abstract - it could be abstract and temporal itself, and I was writing endless poetry inside my head. And as the music sunk into a dark and morbid moment I was struck by the sensation that I would forget these words. They would slip into the history of a marijuana haze and be forgotten in the morning. But even these thoughts were coming through poetically, temporally, moving with the music, a confluence of all energies and beings in time and space around me resulting in art created that would never leave my mind.

The show ended. We went out on to the street and while Johnny ran upstairs to get his coat a beautiful black homeless man came over to us, singing an old love song from the 1950's, the tune of which escapes me already, sadly. He talked to us for a long while and when Johnny came back we all were talking like Real Human Beings. Status, that meant nothing. We were all just talking. No one was even thinking about who was homeless and who wasn't. After about 15 minutes we needed to leave and he asked if any of us could maybe spare a dollar. The three of them each gave him something, and I opened my wallet and was sorely, sorely dismayed to see that I only had 2 twenty dollar bills.

"I'm so sorry, I don't have anything.." I said.

And he wheeled towards me, his eyes wide and white and bright and said -

"Don't you never be sorry! What you is giving me, this? [holds up the dollars] THat's just material possessions, that's just something that can help me get by day to day. But what you gave me most of all that's more important than that - is yourselves. We talked like real human beings. We had a real connection here and that is a beautiful and rare thing. So you don't be sorry none. You just go on and have a good night."

[all of us]: "You have a good night too."

"Don't put it all on me! Y'all have a BETTER night!"

I slept like a baby last night.

4.13.2005

and life i learned was like a pomegranate bitter healthy dark and light so somewhere inbetween the pages i would find an answer like a riddle like a kind of blistered beauty fading into separations inbetween the smoke of things since when i came here it was in the body of a wingless bird a phosphorescent flapping phoenix nightmare dream a lazy boiled down experience progressing towards a day when none shall be but wings upon the nighttime daysky gibberish shall be the tongue and insufficient all the words this is not amanifesto this is not fiction poetry biography no no no no this is NOT BIOGRAPHY and I will not let it be i will not show myself as words or photographs i am so much more than tangible what justice can be done to me to you to all of this i know we know what god is that is not the issue here the issue is the situation is its wordless wordy wordy birdy flirty dirty nature nurture future pictures will not show us in our bodies crying BINARY BINARY BINARY finite is alright finite is all all all right and each of us is one tiny apocalypse of cocks and lips and sometimes i assume i boil down to shit and semen nothing more, just eat fuck eat fuck eat fuckm, this causes breaks and pauses i can not allow a pause i cannot allow a moment of my nonexistent time to spend itself inside itself it must all be forgotten, i must leave myself to move into myself to once again just drop myself and fly myself and cry myself and dry myself myself my self i could have written myself on to this page but instead i gave you this, which is myself, these pauses will not be tolerated commas are a question of an ethic in the judgment of our morals i find fault my good is evil and evil good but those are two and we are one i laugh at this, it makes me laugh, no pause just laugh this is my mind reflected how i think in ink how funny funny tralalalalalalalala believe me when i lie to you and lie to me if i begin to believe you that is how we'll start our own game our own life and planet in the beginning there will be light and in the end there will be nothing that is how the game is played the rules are clear my love my love my love is one long film about eternity this will not end this will not end because i write the moments as they come and they shall never stop so tra tra tra tra la la la fa fa mama mama if you only knew, but she is a pause, we will not pause the past we will progress the present, this is a present, stop it we cannot afford to wait your history is all a lie and this getting tired but it never stops just like sine it ups and downs and ups and downs and ups and downs and all around and side to side and somewhere up above i lied but if you took the time to find it you would already have lost i would be gone an eon a peon a psychedelic freedom biter wrighter writer righter riter smiter of the written i could burn this i will not burn this i miss her like rain right now the sun outside the thought of clout of cloud of star and shroud where did you find me where did you love me how did you need me where are you now what are you now i know the answer to every single question and i keep them somewhere i am not permitted to remember but i found a teacher and he taught me that