it

godamn it feel like taking myself away from everything/one right now.

stuck in 1989 bitch

i'm stuck in a world of tv babies


i'm stuck as a tv baby

we'd much rather get a handoff emotion than experience it for ourselves. its just so much easier when the screen is the same as your smile, tears, and fear.


tears for fear?

my room is a sauna, i'm out of here, you aren't the only one with feet.

yesh

sometimes people don't see what you see, its okay though that shit happens. no worries

Justus for today reiki

Just for today, I will not be tongue tied
Just for today, I will not worry
Just for today, I will be grateful

Just for today, I will do my work honestlyJust for today, I will be kind to every living thing

jagged energy

you were sleeping remember?

baby

have you ever done something so bad to someone else that you can never take it back? and it will hold your tongue for the rest of your "life"?

"he saw the random, countless impacts to create a surface like that"

cassette recorder turned ipod...

Its what
happens;

when...
...take
...deep
...breaths.

Teething

TEETHING

wish i had money and time for this

fatty happy

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/health-news/slim--sad-fat--happy-519034.html

and how the fuck does this make any sense?  fat people are happier because they have accepted their fatness.
 i'll never be fat.... i'll never be happy

Medication

“smudge” =life/time smear

 ....always thought i could see the world spinning when the clouds were moving, but it was just the weather

i love the smell of myself, somethings is dripping out the corner of my head i don’t know where the circle stops or where it begins, a baby wont you please come home. i ride my feet down the blocks in my neighborhood, i stop and walk to the streetlights to mute my mood. i wanna stop but just cant stop it feels to good. wont you hold me cant i hold you? wont you come back home again. i wanna teeth i wanna breathe i wanna hear new life, crying fighting dying smiling holding in its master thought, own a head make it float, its yours again, drag your spine leave behind your foot prints don’t separate, so i’m dragging my feet i’m keeping it neat as i walk passed humans n cubans and some sort of africans. eating only when i feel bored to calm the sounds, my windows open sighs are stolen through paragraphs. you chug yourself and you feel better you are what you eat so you wont stutter from these gulps and these drinking, cocking your wrist and head back your ready to feel something. if this habit didn't start where would i be on earth doing my own part. a activated thumb scan to show that you are the right person to be walking through that door your drop your lure and it sinks in the teeth you were aiming for. we shot what were aiming for, why are you always holding throats with your conscious life support. an itch on the nose, emotion sent and declined so i have to lie to myself covering my nose with my hand like a child again. maybe we can live forever maybe we’ll live again. i like your brown eyes in the sunshine. you lay in the perfect part where my body meets my arm. its a comfortable solution for feeling down, i wish i could be strong forever and you see it, you’ll feel it. i’ll be strong forever you’ll feel it, you can feel it.  why do i get so weak when i’m in the strongest position. why do i feel like hiding when i’m with my favorite friends one stops and one goest the lights shatter the atmosphere the bike rides and the gears keep spinning. i shake the blanket that we were laying on where,, we both saw something we knew might happen.  we searched miles in the park for the perfect spot, is spread the blanket with the dolphins holding palm trees up. five fingers like their human counter parts .if we keep going we’ll keep floating into the other side. if you get through i’ll be there when you sink in, i won’t stare cause we both feel the same pressure, lets put it down, i’ll be the clown let do this the right way. i want to show you the rawest focus through my lens, i want to tell you the things that hold me together. but when i feel like this i cant even hear my thoughts my self control has been over-clocked. i don’t get overtime and my pays a week late, i hover on the water in a fountain wishing it was a lake. passerby's can make you feel so related. i need that outside i need that sunshine or i become sedated. i can’t fake it but i try so hard. my hand shakes with every odd counter movement the opposite of what i was thinking the ship drops and now were both sinking. on the dock our feet covers cracks flowing over my crotch i hold my babies in. were holding a baby in, then were taking it out. i really wonder if two people that wont fart in front of each other can have a kid. and how often this happens and how its fucked up.  i want to give everything but i feel drained, i feel stuck. we both have the same life issues to depend on ourself but we look to each other to distract and cheer us up. it works for the moment, everything is fine. i love every second but i would really like to show you mine. i would really like to be me all the time.  i get into the groove of walking with two feet but then the fall down, and drag my feet. i cant feel my body weight above my knees, i’m welding down my touch so i can feel alright. i want to shape my face like clay i’ve never handled but i’m sure i could make something ugly i’m positive i wouldn't love it. if i could change my face it would be for the temporary beauty, something that doesn't last but looks good at first. basically flesh, teeth and eyes looking good in the moment, but when the worst times comes whose holding your cheeks up.  my smile shakes, and you ask about it, i don't know how to answer i feel worn out. i need to do me but i hate when you say that. i love you and i’m me for you thats all i can be. these things are how i act but its not who i am. i clam up in the moment. foot bone is connected to the cement bone, cement bone connected to the head bone, head bone connected to the feet.  i want to sleep with my own limbs on, stop them twisting into each other, and just holding on to my body. gravity is obviously pulling me down but i don’t feel it all the way, i feel my knees bending inward as i fleck the pelves, the backboard to my genitals. i can make a wall so stiff to sharpen a knife on my skin. i want you to hold it in, till it drips out. don’t think of it as such a bad thing its only natural we’re only hand stands until the sun goes down. we blend to posts, the walls the solid areas around our ankles piss drips down the dirts sidewalk.  everything i have ever known since i was a young boy being raised by who i was raised by in the environment i was raised. i used to rebel against their stupid anxiety and pride. worrying about a reputation when you’ll be dead and no one will remember, what was the point of sticking to that town again? feeling safe warm and spreading your offspring there. its yucky when you look down and can’t feel what you see, but somehow you know your eyes are part of what your looking at.  street children laugh not noticing the cars honk and the eye glances of my headphones, head blocked up in a whirl of distorted thoughts, or distorted reality.  i’m going to find out something for myself, if what i think makes me, is what i really believe. i’m a god and i cant be stopped i will keep floating around these randomly found spots, that leave my liver stained, sucking my ribs. my heart feels like its floating but i can’t feel my chest.  can someone please map out my nervous system the synapses seems to misfire in every direction. i need to hire a guard or get a dog so i can detect my own dialect that streams forever in my head. and it grows out as hair, dead. then i cut it and regrow my thoughts again and again, i’ll do this till i’m dead, or i run out of hair.looking down at my body criticizing everything thought we have to find out where we start and stop. i can hop on one foot till i’m antsy i walk on one leg two times with my feet. slip the cover over and dip it in the wax, it will come out as an over reaction. we sit hear in satisfaction glancing out the window when we hear a scream. just to pretend i acknowledged it, i would never call the cops. i hate the cops. its kind of a shit storm living in america and not trusting the cops. i feel completely alone here, i have stopped but my life keeps moving. dipping your head under water to pull something up your teeth are bleeding you haven’t flossed enough. when young get to the end how many of these things will be true. wasting time on opposite thoughts that we lean into. i trust my path and i understand its there, but it really sucks to see people ahead of you.  the choices i’ve made, and the judgements i make about myself.  some moment in time that we hold to close and it twists up our spine holding onto us and the things we love, getting under our skin, becoming those things we love and who we are. so much science to learn, so many explanations to ignore and make up our own for. its starting to be like the bible again i can feel time repeating itself and its really sliding down the latter. our smudge is going to stay here.  about a year and half ago maybe more i realized something so true it has never left my mind even though i don’t understand it. so my belief is this, we are born in a year say 1989 and we have a clear path projector style gears rolling and picture pushing out over the air. our starting point is a large pile of black tar that we are born from, leaving a small stain on the nerves of life.  i mean all of life, every string attached to every being ending somewhere. these aren’t the lines in math class that go forever. much like a slug we smear ourselves along as we grow older and think more into our bodies. we can go on forever in the moment, with our bodies staying still. so as we drag along leaving behind how we have effected life, our timeline builds and the earth keeps “spinning” if that even exists.  so we stand on our path, as the world turns with our feet on the ground writing our rounds in circles around the planet. so we start where we are born with a small black splat, and then we scoot forward in the big picture a whole 2 inches, we die and another black splat is dapped at the point of our death.  thats all we have a 2 inch line life span in the eyes of science and human measurement. there is no astrological way to measure how long we live, i don’t understand the standard of days and year set out for everyone to follow the exact same way when no one is the exact same. this has never made sense to me, because every year we live we cut down 1/80th of our life, and our perception of time decreases or get more used to spinning the seconds around in a circle over and over again. we are all so limited by the clock and the speed at which it turns, say if someone is about to die and they are in charge of the worlds time, they would have it set to such a  speed that every minute to a child would end up being   7 to an aged, drying, dying adult. we can’t find a solid stance on time because our conciseness is ever evolving and we aren’t stopping for anything even if its directly in the way. so now our smudge becomes a zig zag and we sag our bellies, they drag on the ground as we drop and stop holding thoughts and never letting them grasp our heads. fill my head like smoke, so i can stop my holding on and deep dripping lime, seeding your split lips tequila drips into your bloodstream and opens your minds legs, now your mentally waiting to get fucked, and you can’t say no, anything or anyone you walk by during your smudge of life can cut it short, or adjust the width. i think our life starts as thing as a single string, it sticks to the birth valley of tar and stretches out like saliva stretching from the roof of your mouth to your tongue as you hold it out you let the smudge slur around your mouth, now you don’t control where you’re going, you are on the other end of that line. its scary as fuck to think you are the only thing that can chose where it lands, where its going and where it ends. then we zoom out of control into the threshold of at least 1/1000th of the human population, we see a littered canvas dripping with saddles, and legs lower, spurts of insemination, and abortion dots clot the canvas. we are spread along these things, not over them like a layer, but more into them like a blending crayon. maybe more like wet paint that can leak into the other color making ten new colors to chose from before it hits the end of the rainbow. this may only be seen through a magnifying glass, we drop the hatch and leave the lid open as we are heated and streak down a canvas of clouds. when you have this experience and notice the rain, a cloud floats over your smudge and drains the color from your brush and paint, leaving it thin and unrealizable, unattainable. not really there. then we hit puberty, our cloud can finally bleed the color into something other than itself. in a dream we stray from the smudge.  then we wake up, so now we have tiny quills of alternate thrills and experiences that never existed anywhere other that in us. if i could sleep and dream my whole life would i go the exact same place as if i participate?  its so fun that no one can answer these questions. it keeps me deathly curious, and dead center on my smudge.  i wonder if at the end the smudge thins in width creating a point to the second tar mound. i will bury my head in the sounds of rock and roll to feel my own soul, what does that do to the color of my smudge? once i set my focus elsewhere i feel like i’m in control again i need to get away from my feelings because i can’t digest them. can someone tell me why my body eats things it can’t handle?  how much of my smudge is suppressed by the way i hold my body? the way i squeeze my hands into the center of this laptop to type these words that will eventually kill my wrists. what does that carpal tunnel looks like on my smudge?  its like a life line with only a y axis that you can call x because there is no y.  so it spreads thicker in whatever dimension your looking at it from, it becomes full and thrust into function.  the feet tickle the legs of the other times the pelvis was spread and it all leads up to this.  i am so easily effected by you. when i’m with you i feel like my smudge is more like a peel and i’m riding the wave as it is peeled over the side, like surfing on the curve of the turning page.  but 365 pages turned about 70 times, if we live until we are 70 we will have 25,550 days to our lives.  if we write a page everyday, an average reader will read our entire life in 3.548611111 days. but who will take the time when their smudge is still stretching to the end? i spend a lot of time doing things that  shorten my line, its not on purpose.  



“smudge” =life








 i seek constant thrill and companionship that alway is over always ends, just like myself, like everyone else.

mice

its funny how fast your outlook on something can change. in the heat of being intruded on you may yell in the face of the crowd.  but to keep to yourself you will guard the hole in your walls.   things feeling kind of strange like the usual things. time blinks on and off as usual skipping mass periods of time, i can't tell if i'm blacking out into nothingness or if i'm blank meditating. it feels weird to bleive such a snowball of made up information. i wonder how when i was raised if this stubborn thumb was left inside me that is too good for everything but not good enough for anything.  good old rock and roll keeps me going usually. sometimes rap will put me in an ok mood but it is all very hallow fun style music. rock and roll has some finger nails and can dig in.  people confuse themselves when they dont want a friend near but they end up there anyway and you are now to beat down and weak to say no. so you buy champagne and miss a good show.  but you didn't really miss it you.  eveyrthing is lining up atleast financially i hope so.  i can't wait to stert my jerb.

bushwick bird

job interviews are so retarded to me. I hate the application proccess. so stupid the protocol of copying the exact information i put on my resume to their form of application. fucking stupid then the interview where I can't stop from adjusting my hands and legs, speaking with a sight shakiness in my voice like i'm afraid of getting hired.  but the thing is i am overqualified for all of these positions in this tryfe city full of closet drug addicts and alcoholics.  i see people make it here through that. but how real is it to just get paid to party? i think this is the only place where that could be a way of life. maybe i'm jealous that it can work for some people but not for me. i saw a dead baby bird on my way to the interview.  on my way home i picked up a pack of cigarettes and walked by the local bum that practically lives on a bus bench. he of course asked me for a cigarette, a lady waiting for the bus asked me too. i told them they could share, but then on second look this lady look relatively clean and normal, so sharing with homeless jesus was probably something she wouldnt want to do. i decided id give her one too, thank god i did.  she told me there was a box of books right there that i could look through someone just left it.
so for the price of 2 cigarettes i got 4 practically new books
-Diary of a Madman (and other stories) by Nikolai Sogol
-The Idiot- Fyodor Dostoevsky
-The Sound and Fury-William Faulkner
-The Darling-Russel Banks

already half way through diary of a madman.

Into The Abyss (2011)

Werner Herzog's 2011 film Into The Abyss, a documentary about a man on death row and the humans he effected with his choices.  I enjoy the way Herzog always handles his interviewees.  He asks questions from an objective yet relative perspective.  The emotions and personalities he captures on camera in this will definetly break through your wall of blocked emotions.  you are able to see the inner workings of an Texas group that is riddled with crime and hick excitement.  what made me decide to blog about this is the great camera work around 1 hour 4 minutes, where there is a red camero. the camera man keeps the reflection of the camera smoothly out of the shot the entire time, then when the scene ends he shows the camera in the reflection and manually zooms into blackness, flawlessly transitioning to the next scene. 

Black Pus, Buck Gooter, Mounds 4/13/2012

Went to death by audio to check out a long time favorite musician that is one of the people that inspired me to move to new york.  I went with my girlfriend we were chilling to the other bands drinking some pbr's rolling cigarettes.  when buck gooter came on (a  two piece noise duo or i dont know what to call them) thats when we decided we must purchase the lame 1$ earplugs they were definetly out to take some  kids hearing home with them.
we saved our joint for right before black place, chippendale was watching mounds right next to me when we decided to spark up our tree's.  after we got stoned the complete scene changed and we both became very weak in the legs and i couldnt take myself off the wall when he started playing i think my mind was blown for longer than any other show.  watching his feet twitch and hit his loop and wah pedals was the only view we really had, but it was so worth it.

David Lynch Art Exhibit

this was at jack tilton art gallery right on the edge of central park.  I wasnt able to make the opening where the man himself made an appearance.  The gallery had 2 floors and a theater showing a less than minute movie on loop of a strange egg cracking and glowing.  the tilton gallery was nice, i had tried to go before the last day but got lost and showed up 4 minutes after it closed.
here are some pictures:

Lil' B at NYU

I haven't stopped looking at everyone like a baby, it has helped my life. glad i didnt go in person tho
'nuff said
listen

Doomsday device

finally built this little toy noise maker housed in a pencil box, highly recommended to any beginner that wants some soldering practice before they fuck up one of their precious toy keyboards. you dont have to do much circuitry, just folllow simple instructions and find body contacts. I plan on adding some potss and things to it. I've also bent a casio sk-5 and a yamaha pss, but this is a first kit i've built.  I also have an atari punk console that I'm going to be building soon.

Greg Dancing

made this video at an ital dj set at Tandem bar in Bushwick off of troutman.  pure boredom=

its my homie greg

New York City

Salem

Great newer electronic "band" there first album i smoke crack sucks bawls, but king knight and the remix/ fan made videos are so good

BETTER OFF ALONE REMIX-

gives me chills everytime. watch with lights off full screen

King Knigh Fanmade video AMAZING

Araabmuzik and Salem awesome song

download/listen

SpaceGhostPurrp, Smoke DzA, A$AP ROCKY@Highline ballroom

I went to this show and it was the coolest thing i've ever went to, i ran into a co worker outside who shared a blunt with us because they didnt want to smoke inside. i was with my girlfriend and we were the whitest people in the entire crowd. of course we compensated for that by getting extremely fucked up on whisky before hand, and a guy told me i had white boy swag (which is the greatest compliment i've ever had other than the diner lady calling me poppa) it started out with some gay ass florida kids using ripoff recycled beats and they were popped collar type neon swag kids. then i can't remember what happened next, but i took my girl nadine to the VIP section and we tried to sit at a booth and immediately got told that it was reserved.  so we stood in the crowd as the venue darkened and became flooded with heavy bass. i think it was the loudest bass i have ever heard. space ghost crept out and the best track i remember was my favorite (dont get yo head bust nigga). he was hunched and the beats were hitting so hard and good. i just remember bobbing my entire soul.  when he was finished i guess smoke dza was headlining who i am unfamiliar with, but he came out on stage with such energy yelling rapping almost into the mic and hopping around stage with an army behind him.
 the highlight of the show was when they passed out handfuls of joints to the audience, about 30 joints were passed, and he said "we'll keep bringing theses out but theres one rule, you have to keep passing it"  I was in the middle so ended up getting passed about a quarter of a joint and it wasnt all that great, but i was so fucked up i don't know if it was just me or not. but by now asap crew and asap rocky poured onto the stage to help with a song and stole the show for a second. i just remember thinking this was the equivalent to the punk shows i would go to when i was younger for the new hip hop culture. it was really amazing and no one got out of hand.

smoke dza

kisses

I was i will be and still am

my unconscious drips into a pool
collecting everything i’ve had, it goes deep inside of me
i’m a tall hole
please fall into me forever
the lights are too bright
you say this drip is too much
you cannot feel this planet underneath your feet
we’ll forget our breath as we step in front of a train with our eyes closed

i miss the rhythm of kissing
i miss exchanging breath
i used to love it when i was a kid
less tongue more lips
tasting the bottle i will be in that pattern for years
I will never feel the love that did with the ignorance to the fairy tale
so i don’t want something new to replace the old
I want my ignorance back

this flame on my lighter fills the room
its because i’ve ran out of air in here
i’ve got used to this happening
I’ve got used to you
i’ve gettin used to what’s happening
i’m getting used to whats happening.

Boombox

new york november
heavy stem under a hard heavy bark wearing a gravy glaze coat of sap. the sky is grieving behind leaves made from gold. as a flake falls from the tree I wish these days to glow instead of flicker, i’ve been growing since you've been gone.  i went deep repeating the name i had read over and bob my head while i make coffee listening to zeus’ boombox.

Daisy Dukes

 saw the blonde girl standing outside with her mans dog, oh go she is gorgeous in her leittle dress i want to undress. love ie

Making Plans

so i gag and catch it in mid air, before it hits reality, while its still rising up inside of me, inside of us. so i go with the people that move during all hours and learn the way they do things is not the same as i. i learn i need a break i need to take myself outa nd sit on a couch on the side of the road without asking or looking whos there, because we are all on the street, therefore we are the same thing. i have legs attached to feet, which i forget most of the time to see a hole that dives deep into the cut marks our space defines. we walk and stop to talk on the phone or check our text, we will find a skateboard, which is fucking freedom.  we will lose that skateboard by the end of the night, but the feeling in our feet will be how it used to be when we touched those layers of wood we used to push on and on.  now i squat in my own home because i’m so godamned tired of my own chair and the person ive been spiralling into. growing with every layer that sets my legs ablaze in these tight restricted jeans. i experience too much to lay down with words. everyday has been an adventure. i’ve seem a human being prevent death, i also smoked in the other room waiting for it to get out of hand. i had a fist banging on my door trying to warn me of the scattered peo[le that landed in my kitchen but her lips are dry and she is dead. so we are concerned and we put sugar on her gums and hope she wakes up, as the one who knows her so much he will breathe through her dead body like a mask gasping for life, but her lips are too dry to respond or comprehend. so i extended my hand though i was so gone by myself. now i have the constriction that was caused by a number of bad choices stacked on bad glass that will hurt your teeth if you put it up to your mouth to fast. i live too quick with a stick dragging on a fence, in an attempt to understand my past or to finnally get passed this goddamned nostalgia that is reapping all the guilt and no rewards because its no longer me. so i wake to a window that throws light into my eyes as they drip with thoughts that wont keep me going as i drop the schedule and never look at it or clock in again. i am here, but i don’t ever feel comfortable. i recently watched a national geographics special on street, the crazy curly haired hippy was experimenting on baboons. i got drunk with a stretch of white lines that ended in my best friend lying to me as usual, if he didn’t lie to me i don’t think i could handle him at all. but what he says when he’s in that state of mind is purely what i need. so i suck in air tangled in shards of temporary confidence that will last untill it is digested in the stomache of my face. i place these fingers on a flat surface that hurts my hands too much. why in gods fuck do i care about what other people think? how have i had such a good life yet i’ve got so used to being uncomfortable. i tease my dreams like a cartoon chasing a steak.  i’lll wash the dishes after i live hard for 2 days out straight, i found a skateboard then lost it the same day.  i stayed awake and kept fake shocked eyes on my face, because i couldnt feel my mouth so i looked like i felt, which is not how i am.  these letters haven’t been written for quite some time but i’m picking it up again slowly through the rails i drive with my spinning cyclist mind. minutes stack up and weigh heavy on your hour, but you can’t hold it back its too strong its an instant reaction. so you will meet the people that will show you the lows, what you really need to find is a fish that bites and you reel in, not the other way around. when i say you i mean ME justus joseph grant caruso. i’ve forgotten how awesome my entire name is. i’m glad its not going anywhere, thats something i can put some faith in, however names are manmade which is there for insufficient for the universe. which is what i’m struggling about a lot right now, rebelling about everything humans have made is so hard when you are human yourself. but there is something more that we can’t speak unless we dream, then we touch and feel the clothes pile up around my bed, then i finally get to a point where i don’t even care. i spread out on what i wear to work. work. work work. the only place where i can relax and feel ok, but i hate it and can’t wait to get out. can someone get me out. but what would i do if i didn’t have little bags breathe in what i would say? it would suck to blow out that hard that the lines spread into the desert and people are left still to evolve how they should be. the ammount of legs, feet, ties and wild eyes i look away from are building up. i just want to breathe how it feels right. i meet people that seem more lost than me, but my symptoms are completely unique.  my cheeks aren’t used to this kind of stress. where my tongue is always working, my lips are always sliding back n forth on eachother as i taste my thoughts. i redirect my minds malfunction to my mouth to take care of to the most naturaly habbit of drinking milk. which is what i never had. i wonder if i would have turned out differently if i would have sucked a mammal female womans tit while i was a tiny little baby that cried out the groundfloor room window for more and more.  the bottom half of my face shakes as i think about this same thing on the train. will it ever be with me. is life just one big sleeve i will finally push my hand through once i die. i’m sick of the build up, i want to cry. i’m on autopilot mode, i can’t turn it off even though it hurts so bad that my spine is numbed. my cries are hidden inbetween the bottom and top. teething, chewing rubbing the inside of my lower face into a void that never is cured because the energy is free, but i haven’t accepted that. i’m afraid for no reason, i was never taught to stop. it was mentioned a couple times, so when my fingers are slamming the keys of this computer i love but hate the things it make me addcited to. i’m so dissapointed the internet has boilde ddown into this time taker that isn’t afraid of real life. its all man made and therefore completely relevant. thats exaclty what boggles my mind, everything we do or make is man made, which is untrustable for death and the life we dont understand because its not man made. i believe in science because it makes the most logical sense, unfortunately there is a big part of me that makes me so uneasy about that. because i feel something that is on another dimension, not human. so i am a rebel against what i am.  it is a constant battle that i need to resolve before it turns into war. i will twist i will contort my eyes to see what i have been trained to believe. please trust me. all i need is a womans body to lay next to that isn’t half ugly. please let her land on my feet. help me find that little thing with the big doll eyes that look up at me and think of a dream they had too long ago. help me help them to remember the relief they bought when they got the toys they wanted as a kid. they ended up stolen or broken just like everything else.  we don’t think about that part when we are that young we are just taking ocnsuming the fun like osme succulant fuck of a life vaccuum that dreams of being themself.  but in theis day and age who could blame you and who could hurt you more than me? i mean who can hurt me more that me? who can hurt you more than you? senses will degrate over time, just like minutes get faster and the lifeline gets shorter as we experience more and more.  togetheness will bring us hope, but it is only that for one night some excitement that things can change and will be slightly different the next day. i will scrube the dishes that take all of a day to make, but only minutes to clean. its not that big of a deal to me. i want an excuse to feel this way thats why i keep going back to you. my teeth are getting darker from smoking cigarettes, froom pouring coffee into my mouth trying to figure out if i keeps me awake. it usually doesn’t the blast of tabacco and caffeine usally sends me into a tired sleepy state of mind that can only be cured by laying down. just like a long night without breathing, because you don’t know what to think about the people who surround you.

knock me down please

pretty soon there will be nothing, i will reach without thinking and fit into that perfect model maniquin drug addicts before me succeed to fill to the top. one thing i can never understand, the denial that goes with mass therapy, and the followers that believe it. i think its just like religion things don’t pan out like they tend to do, then you feel shitty so you replace them with an excuse of fake hope. the fakest hope that we all drop our bags when presented with.. dont you want to breath that air, that air that a baby breathes right wehn he leaves his first home, he drops like teenage balls ina na “adult” woman trying to say this is me. but you cant make your kid a better version of you, that is not how it works, to think so is a crazy wild thought that can be picked up by any other stray that happens to be floating aroudn when you hear it dont you love to hear the sound of fingers crackling wiht no mistake no st a distracted stance, i dont’ opping just you and what yoiu are what you right and becaome not like that sweaty dreaded girl with the high eyes and i dont know if she has found something great or if she just dropped it all, i think about dying almost every night when i soloute and trust whatever goes on.  dont you think kidneys feel? do you think its disgusting that we are taught nothing that is relavent to our well being, we are taught societys made up wardrobe that feeds the walking dead, they burrow in their taped off homes, something i can respect. i want to kill this keyboard righrt now it is a vessel for my bad attitude. non stop you look around you at the things you are with every morning, but youi don’t see them, you look into space thinking about something else something more in front of you and real than a haircut or a tied up lock on the back of your head. eventually that taste will turn bad and you will need something more, a kid can never make you what you need to be on your own, so why do you fantasize about that it is over and done, i know youre afraid of things never being like they were before, but trust it, change is possible in love, yes it will not be the crazy curious butterflies you felt going down the slide wiht the one you really love.  I guess it may be a better idea to stunt your thought so you fit in...so you agree with the rhythmic flow of the concerts you enver see right in the heart of it all you see the plague biking down a street that turns into a drop of water in a spoon that is brand new, so fun to use, so clean and real i wish my heart squirted every off beat please kick me cause if it occurs to you i might like it. which is not socially excetable, i’m having a realaly hard time adjusting to what is exceptable. in normal chill sessions with people i like sometime i lose control. i have lost control. and its hard to pick up which is what you need to do in this industry IE”the cocaine american apparel new york radio industry” is it an industry? i dont think i like industry very much i would rather sit hear and spit words at a screen that will see the candles i burn when its not on. jesus christ we are brainswashed by these screens, we are murdered and inacurate because of these red dotted lines under our words. when did reading stop being something to compfrehedn and something to watch and judge. when i read i feel completely alone and safe. everything is okay i am under the umbrella and the rain is really in us already. its comforting to meet another of your kind. i didn’t think they exist. i still don’t. fuckit it’s not something i can change. if i am proved wrong you will be the first person to tell my best friens that understands the clicking of my fingers in the night turned day. justus fucking christ. at the bar i introduced my self to a number of people, and this guy outside which looked like a sno bro, a cool guy still, sno bro is not a bad thing... /:  
Anyways i showed this fucking guy my idea to prove i was me, and he still didn’t belive it, i just brought my id in my back pocket instead of my whole wallet, cause i hate carrying....so i could see whipping out souly an Id is kind of strange or even planned seeming. have you ever kicked in front of you when you don’t feel the back. i will injest the air like a delicious scrumptious meal that i will scarf dwown and try to be real as i show the true colors no one will be blind they have seen them before my true colors are already what they are. so see them and think what you want because they are only me and something i can make but never change. what is change, is it giving in to the answer blowin gin the wind like boby d says? i think change is the acceptance of what is always going to be moving in front of you, you better get grounded and get used to it because its not going anywhere but more ridiculous and up. theank god i don’t have a tv thank god i dont have to stare into that mindless device that breeds small pupils and no love or self pleasure. don’t you want to take somebody home? is that on your to do list but something you are really not down wiht, cause i anted to get laid pretty bad tonight and i just fucking met and talked to a girl like a writer, of courser my wild fucking roomate brandon initiated the conversation while i was in the bathroom, then she talked to me and told me she was a writer of a blog.  jesus christ. i don’t know, i came here to meet people to collaborate with real people that won’t give my equal liveriam. is that what it is> a party pacer why would someone use a much more potent subestance to guide them through a party, seems kind of stupid to me. i wish i had a blog and small little cards like that girl that filmed bird call at the radio (that passage will only make sense to you justus) so christ stops once he stubs his to to swear and feel he is human to believe he is real to stop this insanity to hear these love songs without a love is retareded as the fucking next block you walk down. i listen to this song with people that are my friends and they get the wrong vibe. why cant you just enjoy the song with pure nostalgic value, why can’t you lay loose and hang in that hammock you built to do just that. you hit against the walls of the house and you see they arne what you thought before but a caugting sign of what came right before when you got out of the cab and reached for your walled you saw that cuban spread out on the pavement bleeding ambulance playing with the sirens as usual. you kill to get closer to it and see the human leak up front. we say out loud that it is a sleep over, thats why i never stay. if i have the option to wake up in my bed or someone elses i choose me everytime

left hand

Lately ive been masturbating with my left hand and it feels so fucking nice. omg i’m fglad i’ve waited this long to do it. oh my fucking god i just smoked a bowl, then came so hard i saw fireworks. this might sounds fucked up but i fantasized about having a really hot older sister and fucking her, then the porn i was watching started fucking her in the ass, so i imagined that. imagine that. oh it was so good though. i guess it was a fantasy that was revved up deep inside of me, aww yeah it felt good to get it out.  oh man i think that was the best orgasm i’ve ever had.
holy shit

Surreal story

a man is walking down the street in brooklyn new york, his yellow hat is blowing feathers of cash out like a fan to all the people.  a black woman flashes him her nipple and yells come on my sock big buddy, i see your big dick through them tight jeans. the man with the hat turns and bends down to cuff his jeans, looks up and says will you be so kind as to suck my dick until i cum blood into your nasal cavity? she asked if he was clean and unbuttoned his pants, she went down. and up and bobbed her head, as people drove by honking and whistleing at the whore, a crowd formed and people got riled up and out of hand as she started using her hands bouncing on her knees. faster and faster down her throat. people start throwing pennies, cake, and cigarettes as tips i guess. a flower hit him on the dick. it floated down and landed in the gutter next to a sleeping homeless man that is peaceful in his drunk, he has lost that other self of him he used to call his real legal name. now there is a couple things that happened to him that he can never look back, being stoned and losing muscle with every penny thrown the woman gets her head held down he buries his cock deep and blew into her throat, cum blew out of her nose, as she gagged and choked, and started throwing up kennedies fried chicken legs, and hot wings, and funnel cake dripping down his scrotum. then she picked up a smoke.  the man with the ostrich hat walked up to a passer by and grabbed him from the sides, impaling therm with his massive dripping whale cock with one swipe he took them down. grew 6 feet taller and took a shit on the road.  he walked down to the bodega and they would sell him a loosie. so i picked up the small counter clerk and said look you fuck i just skull fucked your wife out there and i want a Goddamn cigarette. his black lisping voice was a creepy strange sound. he was a gentle man 12 feet tall and angry. just out of control. he was not in the mood to sense any one being false. so you had to buck up, buckle your belt and heave into you. if he saw you look down he would slap that big cock in your face and poor coffee on your ass and laugh at your burns, and hold you there until blisters formed, and popped them and fucking your ass until you are  dead and raw.
this would POSSIBLY make someone stop being so anxious

God Fuck Me Please

 my heart beats for you
my heart leaks beats for you into
the void where i hand the cash over and get billed the strength of pushing that big deposit off my table into the trash, clearing my desk of wadded up foil and remembering it not at all. its only that moment that matters when you breathe it in. to where the pretty girls are no longer pretty. everything is in the same cast as it waits to take form, nobody is exempt from these taxes our living has put on us. we dip deep into ourselves to where we cant walk without being watched, or leave without being seen. i want that for me i want that for you why cant we just skew that part of our minds that thinks about everthing else and just kick it to the curb like that trash we just brushed off our shoulder. for someone to pick up and use in their own home, but it is invaluable and i dont give a fuck about anything so much that i do care. i’m thinking its the opposite i care about everything so much that i don’t give a fuck. i’m searching for an honest escape from mediocre living, it obviously isn’t drugs, but it is definitely the only thing that has shown its face in that way, i’m waiting for the guy with the sack full of bags, i’ll buy 3 so i get a discount, and suck them all down into me, into the base that really is me that doesnt look out my window or smile at a  joke, the one that laughs so loud, you cant tell who told what it was. fucking girls and strangers, and the effect they have on my shakieness. fuck that shit, i’m sick of it, i’m no worste than them, thats such an optimistic point of view...right? and fifteen minutes really means 35 in drug years, godamnit how i want to be ok without this shit, but it just doesn’t seem realistic to me.  i only see what is here, and tonight i saw two beautiful women, they wer ethe clients at the raidio show. i just met them and had fun, the one wannabe coco rosie girl was beautiful, and my buddy would have argued that she is original. am i secretly trying to die by doing this? because i am always gasping for air and never being relieved, i don’t know i fi just want ot spend the rest of my life doing this or if i want to live for real. and now the bottom of my tongue is numb so i cant feel it, all we need is love, but numb is sometimes all we can get, so numb is all you need
numb is all you need
numb is all you need
numb is all you need
numb is all you got
numb is all you need
do you want to live
no and don’t you stop me there i am beautiful, yet i will not tramp on anothers dreams to get me where i want to go, i purely want to see everything breathe how it does without trying. i want ot stop staying up till the sun rises, and seeing the kids go to school, but being unconcious for them getting out, i could do things. and i write in spurts in between even more spurts of this disgusting dish i have concocted, and cough up and breath in till i shake and scream without making a sound
 i wish i wasnt so drunk off the red wine that sits in my gut. i would rather feel this white powder that runs away and teases me. its a constant tease, i realize in the morning the things i have thought and done are not what i want, but the next night i forget it all, whiped clean the slate of my life. fuck fuck fuck now i’m not getting the high i expected. like they all say, it will never be as good as the first.
it will never hurt as much as the first
this is a love that i can find without looking inbetween somebodies legs.  and i don’t have to talk them into opening them, i just have to walk up my street and hear the horn honk. so this is what i’m telling myself right now, i feel great for two seconds and the bag is almost gone, i am going to hold back with all my might moving on to the next bag, but i doubt i can hold up because the craving is so hard right after you taste it. once your lips are numb and you can kiss without a care, its really hard to see anything else. cause the way i see it i have two options, sit hear and think about you, or forget. so i chose forget because it is real and closer.  i wish you were my forget. i wish you were real, i wish you were closer. i wish i had a longboard under my feet right now, i wish i could stop crossing my legs. I  just walked around the block to try and feed a familiar homeless guy some freebase, but no dice no one was there but some already cracked out black lady, i should have given it to her, god knows i don’t need anymore. and no wehre in america is before my time, so i’m sitting here trying to all everyone when its two hours back in time, they havent lived the next day as far as i have yet. its very strange to be on the point of this mountain that the sun hits first. its a pretty good place to shout your shit from. and the cat scratched on.
meow meow
walk walk
suck
suck
wait,
wait
smoke smoke smoke
pee
drink
smoke pee
repeat
go on


 e
                life.

and i do not want to die. i am just starting to see what life is like.  but when i take these drugs everything gets wrapped up into a single moment, like a movie. i love movies because they have the most important part of someones life wrapped up in under two hours (of course this differs per movie, its ok to  exceed the 2 hour mark.) i feel the same about drugs.  the second you do it you get false hapiness that is ridiculous and not worth much. what feels really good is not cheating and buying your way to false endorphins, but inner joy that we all have had since we were born. it is the kind of joy that helps you forget who you are when you are in the shower, or as a small child coloring in a coloring book, or doing anything , creating. tapping into that void that isnt a bad thing althought that word is usually associated with bad things. im tired of flexing my body for no one. i feel so hard most of the time, im at heart a very soft caring person. also in New york city i feel like i have to walk tougher than i am, because it feels like a million people will see me anytime i leave my house. this isnt true and i’m usually more put together than the people i see. i guess i’m just adjusting to this place. After all it was a giant leap to come here. like my little cousin fucking genius mikey said, if someone takes a piece of your lawn every day for a month, you will see it go slowly, but if someone just shows up and tears up your whole yard in one day, thats very different.
i believe in love, it is in yourself first, you cannot help somone without being ok on your own first. when you are young people always tell you this, but you have not really lived enough to understand, but now i see. everything everyone said is so true.  we just have to figure out a way to live content, being content in most things we do. otherwise we are fucked. we create the sidewalk we walk on by how we think. our eyes are very close to our brain.
and this binge that i wish could last forever will end very soon and i will be sad i will be deep into my head at this time and convince myself to make that call
fuck.
x
over indulgence is constanly sucking in air but not breathing it back out, was your lighter runs out you will try all the things you missed and retrace your steps into the void where you dont sleep, wehre you dont think, where you just are. being its what we all are but we forget so often. i hate the palace that the man sits on top of. i swear to god i will do everything to bring that building and that fuck sitting on the top floor being fed grapes and women to hold crack cocaine to his mouth. he will pay like we did to put him there.

Brain Process

so here we are and there it is. staring back at us like it wishes it could know it all,  but it will only move to show off..and reach way to far. search but not be found, in this hell. we reach for it to pull it towards us, but the flow is interrupted our thoughts continue to be useless... not even floating down the river.. just struggling and hurting ourselves in the freedom of the water. something in me is holding against every single current that is on life's side. is getting older the same as dying? for some reason i thought we would be revealed the truth, not get more lost in the open.  touching my thoughts i pull back a bit. i’m sick of sabotaging what i know i want.  i wanted her, she wanted me, but i couldn’t decide so i dove head first into the decision i knew was wrong.earlier it matter but now so much anymore i’d rather get gagged and straddled into the wind where the hammock sways and we lay in peace this dysfunctional fucking comedy is making me feel very guilty for laughing. doctor and cocaine.  the perfect love couple that keeps them both interested. fun. amen. die now.

i use the dot dot dot’s to avoid bad grammar...which in turn formulates the bad grammar. fuck this shit and the coma is just a sit or spin live or deal. split or stay. someday it will matter.

death of facebook

i finally clicked on people you may kknow on facebook and to my surprise a shit fuck ton of people from my past showed up. so of course like any other person now days i checked out what each of them were up to. holy fuck i am so much bettter off and literally more badass then every single one of them.  this kid named jesse bohannon looks like such a hipster dissapointment.  haha and ryan rudd went on a fucking mission.lolz. this is great the girl i loved in high school just got uglier.! this place is a circle that you can get trapped in if you arent smarter than the circle. looksl ike all these people are content on their douchebaggery. god i’m glad i got out of here these games they play and the blindness the insist on keeping i love it. i used to get somewhat jealous of the people i would find online, but wow i’m really doing the right thing with my life.  i am glad to be alive and where i am at today. i have an amazing carreer laaid out ahead of me , plus i can get any girl i want. these people think they can be cool cause they say they are, but they are ridiculous am i the only one that can see that? no wonder they have stayed friends since childhood they are content on holding eachother back and love the sick humor behind it.  they can easily convince any girls of this because that is what you need to get a girl to fall in love with you. a good actor. you need to have a cocky stance and posture ready to peck away competition by out lying them or out dueing them. i just want to make great records so i don’t have to tell eveyone how good i am, they can judge if they like my style or not.  i kind of want to get stronger so i can talk shit to these retards from my past and defend myself.  i was friends with some of them but they never cared about anything.  hahah i guess that prooves now as i get the last laugh.

Dry Heat

i’m home here back in utah and it feels great, its like settling down in a nest that someone made for you your whole life. i forgot all the memories i had here and all the cool stuff i own. i want to make my home in new york more like it is here, but i fear that is impossible, because i like the smells my mother has and nothing smells good for long in new york. and with my junkie roomates its way hard enough to keep it clean.  man i know what returning home is like now, and its wonderful here. everything is so simple and nothing is a lie.  i feel like i am in my place and i wish i could have a doorway that took me home whernenber i felt like it. but i don’t have that and i never will, so i’m going to have to make a plan here on how i’ll stay strong in new york and not smoke too much weed, and get a job and have my head on straight. i need to get a job and become independant. it was hard there new york wore me down quite a bit but i see now that my home will always be here for me and it is fairy tale perfect. my mother and rose decorated the house for my when i got home. i got picked up from the airport by scotty and mardy his girlfriend. we then hit up del taco and munched out. i was really sore from the day before and i’m still really sore.  it has been so nice to feel okay here and not be afraid of everyone constantly. we went to cafe rio with rose while my mom was at work and nicole and nick picked her up, and that asshole nick had the nerve to offer me spice (that smokeable bullshit) that waas the first hting he asked me.  and i told him fuck that it gives me a headache. i didnt care that he asked, but obviously infront of the kids was retarded.  i am preparing to quit smoking again and i feel ready again. its easier out here everything is soft and nice to me.  nothing feels threatening. but wehn i went to cafe rio i ran into my old teacher from allc and i told her i was living in new york interning at a recording studio. but then i got all anxious its like i was in new york again. everything was shaking and i couldnt relax i then couldnt order my food loud enough which always pisses me off. Scott and i got some beers last night and i had to chug 6 to get a buzz, and was extremely dehydrated this morning. they are worse on your stomache i think having to drink as many as you do to get drunk.  being alone in a house is the most amazing feeling. i’m lonely in new york but i’m not really alone. it kind of sucks like that. it feels like i have a guard up making me snap at some things my mother says. roxy is so cute i wish i could stay here, but i need to do whats right -adventuring.  there is so much to do in this world with soo many places with all different people living different cultures.  we watched teen mom last night because mardy wanted to. i was pretty sick of the damn show and went to bed. it feels good to sleep in a queen i was very comfortable. i found out explosions in the sky + no age are playing the twighlight festival.   i broke out my harmonicas that i have never played then beagan walking around blowing out my bluese like crazy. it felt good it felt fvery animal but natural.  i had to wake up to hide all the beer in the house , apparently my grandparents are coming up to surprise me by taking me to dinner. i’m excited to see them i guess i made grandpa cry when i talked to him once i got back. i love the old guy, i feel a very deep connection with him lately. like we are a lot alike, during his alcoholic days i think he just htought a little more than everyobdy else but the society and ienvironment he lived in was so limiting it crushed all his thoughts.  now he’s a jesus man , i’m cool with that he knows what makes him happy, gardening, watching birds, feeeding birds, cooking.  i dont’ want him to die soon but i fear he might. he is 69 years old i hope he doesnt before i really get to know him. it feels like i cant get to know him though. i wonder if he thinks he knows me like he wants to?  i’ve grown distant from everything and everyone for a while now , idon’t know why. I hate it i wish i could just be the sweet kid i am on the inside nobody can tell me different. i feel like doing something great like writing an album while i’m here only with less preessure. i just need to let my animal side out by blowing that harmonica. cj is going to let me borrow his guitar which will be great. the dry heat is hotter here for sure , my skin is dry because of it. flaky .  i’ve been confused with my feelings about love for a while now. i met michael colwill at the dock on the night gay marriage got passed, we have been emailing eachother. i have a positive friend when i get back in town. he does hot yoga in the city , he also told me that he would be moral support for me to go do it. i would love that because he had a great body, looked very happy dancing alone on a small platform.  i was suprised he talked to me. this fate shit is either really clever or a load of BS.  i need to not take out the fun of living,, be more like alli G testing th boundaries from people.
i’m relieved to here music about people feeling the same way i do. im playing portishead through my tube record player, it sounds so golden.  my dog is holding a grudge against me i can tell. i guess i taught her about distancing herself so she just is doing what her daddy does.  i’m confused about robyn. i dont really love her its been so long. i just need a fucking confidence boost, i need to know i can get her back. i want to be someone that is down to earth and not nervous about anything anymore. i am that person i can write to be myself.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011
being home has been a shake to reality. a lot of closure has happened. my grandparents took me out to lunch yesterday.  my grandpa said that he woke up and said”gloria want to do something stupid” which was driving 2 hours to take me to lunch. of course he knew my grandma would say yes to doing something stupid . it was really good hanging with scott we played starcraft. at sizzler we talked about this generation and the effect technology has on us. my grandma had to bring up this generations lack of grooming etc.  my grandpa bore his testimony to scott and i. instead of just being completely put off and not hearing what he had to say i heard every word relating it to how i feel with what makes sense to me. i could have argued telling him my side, what it means to me. the illusion of christ is the best way humans can understand the universe. its like teaching kids about things in simpler terms so it doenst blow their minds giving them comfort in knowledge with what is familiar or makes sense to them. vic came over after work and it was good to see him. he is a great guy that is in his groove doing what he does.  i truly believe he will be a semi famous musician in the indie community some day. he’s so much cooler than some of the people in new york. we laid on the couch while i told him all about new york city, waiting for cj to give us the ok to head over. then we finally did.  cj was awesome to see but i get social anxiety and had to break the ice in order to be a .
i just want to be normal and okay so badly. why do i feel like this? my brain must be the problem like my mom says. why cant i just be okay lik ei could wehn i was younger? what happened to me? i guess not trusting myself to take care and nuture is something that i hav emissed, it seems like i’m a different person then justus right now its really shitty. this is depression and anxiety i need to get back on meds i think. i hate to do it with the way i drink, but i need to slow down or i’m going to die very young. i hurt inside. my body doesnt feel like its mine, neither does anything i own. its like the real justus died, nobody can help me but me. i just wallow in this self pity and it makes me seem so pathetic to myself. i’m home with my dog who i love which i thought would make me happy, but i have a mental block up in my brain not allowing me to be happy. anti depressants make me love her! i woke up and had a good walk with my mom and suzi but i just dont feel like myself. i used to get really happy in the summer. now i feel more dead each year. somebody PLEASE tear this false self from  my soul. i need an exorcism. my head wont stop spinning, i can’t smell or taste anything or heare anything. i’m in a control room operating out of obligation. its a terrible feeling with shaky vision and my mine running rampant over its self crashing then burning then crashing then burning. nothing i do helps for more than a day or an hour.  what in the fuck.

new york shows

shows in NYC

MAY 6th -Lightning Bolt, Ducktails, The So So Glows, Pterodactyl
This was an outdoor ordeal, Great loud awesome band, been waiting to see them all my life, i went alone and walked around hitting my pipe in phone booths, i got pretty stoned and just stood around, drinking free redbull and smoking cigarettes, watching all the college students eat their cheesecake and have such a solid genuine fun time. ducktails was a bit of a dissapointment, i actually felt kind of emberassed for this guy. I was looking around wanting to say, this is cool guys right? but honestly it was just some big jawed guy making sounds and occasionally singing karoake over them. he obviously doens’t make his music for anyone but himself. which i s something i respect very much.  pterodactyle was really cool and fast and loud.  then wehn lightning bolt finally came on i was so excited and they played amazing, he hit those drums with trememdnous foorce that beat down like thunder pitched down and fast forwarded.

June 18th the oh see’s
This was a really great show, i got there and scoped the place out. it was a big inside, had a bunch of nice leather lounge furniture, and then there was a restuarant type setup, to the right a flight of stairs leading to bathrooms.  the alcohol bar was to the left and back in the dark rroom, wehre a black lady guarded like a dog the gate to the bowlers, it was dark and teh band was playing loud. a screen hung over head projecting nature documentaries and footage of elephants.  the bar was expensive as usual, and i spent all my money as usual on draft beers. brooklyn summer lager to be exact. delicious. i was sitting in a big leather arm chair people watching when this drunk woman and her friend asked me to take a picture of them, we got talking a little and then i ended up hanging out with them a bit. when we went up to use the bathroom he went in the ladies room with her and she told me to, but i didn’t want to get kicked out for a line of cocaine. so i peed and ditched them.  I think this pissed them off cause they saw me with a beer and said oh justus already has a drink. when we were talking they asked wehre i was from and they seemed suprised i was from utah.  i asked why they asked me and they said that i looked eastern european, like a polish or russian person maybe.  this made me feel kind of cool. if i wanted i can tell anyone i meet i’m from poland with some fake accent, i could probably get laid much easier this way.  i told them i waas going to save a bench, and they never came back. they ditched me i guess they thought, but i came alone for one reason- to see a band play.  i was smoking a cigarette outside when a redhead around 30 years old asked me about my cracked cellphone screen (more like shatttered) it struck up some conversation and we talked for a little while. she was an editor or something for a magazine and we talked about how many writers are in new york city. everyone calls themselves a writer, and none of them write good.  this includes me, i’m learning to stop thinking i’m an artist and just be one.  its hard though i’ve had a little pollution in my head spread out and go along way, beating on my body as i walk down the street out of sync with myself wishing i wasnt there, i go to this place in my head where i’m not there i try not to be there, and it sucks with the shaky control and loss of pleasure.  impulsively tripping down curbs and compulsively lifting my hands to my face in a habitual frenzy and not looking anyone in the eye.  i walk different in soho i feel more accepted and normal there, its beccause i’m white and it is strange but black people are still new to me and i don’t know how to handle them, i am a bit afraid of their naturalness. but the girls do turn me on i’ve seen some fine piece of black ass.  so at this show i was out of cash and didnt bring a joint like i should have.  so i watched the elephant movie and watched the people pack in to the large bowling alley venue.  the sound girl was admireing the sound guy, she must have been an assistant i sensed a strange thing between her and him as i watched her get close to his shoulder with her face and he stood there confidently not looking at her when he spoke.  she was leaning and puttin gherself there for him. i bet he was married. something i’ve learned about new york shows is that they are just like shows anywhere else.  there is an audience and a band performing. the audience however here is different, everyone is too uptight and busy looking hip and cool to let there hair down and bob their head, this energy efffected my ability to let my head bob, so i stomped on the ground hard all night and wiggled my knees.  when the band got on stage they looked exactly how i imagined trhey would. the bassist i recognized from moments ago outside, he was right next to me smoking during my conversation with the magazine editor, i thought he might be someone from the badn because a woman was taking a photo of him as i was coming back in.  the singer guitarist was a healthy guy with a hip milatary haircut if that is even possible. the band started with a hit form help, and was loud and fast.  listening to their record i never imagined how fast they physically have to play to get that dancing wall of fuzzy energy to jump out at you.  it was rock and roll baby, the bassist was like a natural  machine, he was constantly moving his head to the tempo of the fast songs, it looked impossible.  the singer had a great energy and when he spoke to the crowd he had a delay on his voice and he was very short and sweet. this guy looked like osmeone i would want to know. had his head on tight, enrgy to sing in a crazy voice and strum his guitar like a madman.  inbetween songs he would pickup new guitars and flaunt them around while playing with them high up right under his chine, the guitar was like a machine gun body part. he looked like he was part of the guitar and his arm must have a battery to move like that.  muscles too.  this was a guy i look up to.  inbetween songs he would shake his hands off and you could tell he had overcome and pushed through a certain level of discipline he needed to stand the physical pain and discomfort that was bound to be cause from anyone playing as fast.  the songs went on and they executed them perfectly with the tamborine girl not singing as much as she did on the record they have. they had a crazy new song that was kind of prog rockish and psychedelic but still sounded great. the drummer went off on a solo and he played in an interesting surfer feel and rounded the drums like bases on a field. they were up there for aobut 10 songs or so and didnt stop with the energy, they looked like they barely broke a set. when they announced the last song after the drum solo you could tell they were not letting you see how tired they were.  so they slammed out another tune and we all shuffled out like a pack of sardines.  i knew an encore wouldnt happen because it a thing of the past.  so i went out smoked a cigarette. and found a slice of pizza to counter some of the low beer effects i was beggining to feele. my legs were tired from standing and stiff from trying not to touch other people in the crowd



ERIC COPELAND

Fix

1..
is this digital age responsible for the loss of brain matter in this generation? what is going on with our social antics is completely opposite of the natural way. we’ve all learned to google anything and to flirt and be more charismatic and likeable through texting and what have you, smoking cigarettes and drinking. i’ve been unkowningly using smoking as a way to look normal for so long, the social advantages” are not really advantages when you think about it. if you stand on a corner and just stand there you will feel very akward andsense that everyone is looking at you even thoug this isnt the case. smoking is a reason to stand on a corner or talk to someone without feeling AS weird. but you know what i’ve outgrown it and it DOES make ME feel WEIRD now! also drinking, i’ve been reading my own body language a lot lately, and its like i am guarding my food like i’m in prison when i eat, when i sleep i am ready to pop up at any given moment. i love my seleep all i have to do today is sleep, i can be or do whatever i want. i just burned my throat. in little sections of my room i have labeled with tape the zones of conciousness, when i look down at the box that isnt mine i know i’m in level 1 layer 1 of my callice, it is a genuine struggle through the day l burn my throat and sing about carousels, or don’t sing at all.
1.
toppling over one another, my lives are no longer linear. i’m spread like a shot shell in the walls of the third floor new york city. it was morning on the other end of america, the coyotes were howling. “old kenny got drunk and beat vrigine up again” bobcats and oyster roads, coney island strolling up my back. sand is shooting against your skin the wind blowing hard like tiny shards like a shrapnel.  the pomegranite pops in my mouth as i gaze out my window onto my dirty street. I llit a cigarette. The night before i was at the radio station recording a live show on my laptop. I finally got out of there at 3am drunk and high. i couldn’t walk straight up my block and munched on sucker i’d been given. Of course, I reach for my keys and blunge up the stairs covering the whole flight in a fastforward hop. no keys. I was locked the fuck out... FUCK. so I sat down i made friends twith a cat but i didn’t want to touch it that much. it ewas a cute little bugger though, cats kind of remind me of a strrange bird. their body is all soft and loost with muscle like a  birds, the fur is almost like a shiny coat of feather. they haven’t a bone of nuerosis in there bodies.  chickens probably do, chickens are pissy little fucks. So i went and bought some munchies and waited for the sun to rise. when i lived on the second floor and someone was locked out they would throw rocks, not pebbles heavy rocks at my window to get my attention, it would scare the shit out of me when they hit wiht that hard THUD I would jump oup to see who had thrown it. then of course go down and let them in, i’m guilty of sitting up there and pretending nott to hear it, then he threw wa huge rock so i decided i better go down before he breaks my window. last night i threw peples, rocks, coins all sorts of shit on my bitch 2nd floor room mate natalie. I tried over 100 times and no one came, she probably isn’t even home.  after a couple hours of hanging wiht the stray tom cat and chugging milk and eating cookies, pouring the cat some milk out of the lid. i laugheed and pointed at the cat, itw as going to get diahread from drinkin that milk I mocked it and poored it more. I’m allergic to cats. I did hold its little face at one point when i became delirious as the sun was coming up/.  morning came and i started to get really pissed off that natalie wasnt coming to my aid when i wante dher to be the best she could well you know hwat she couldnt do it for me and i guess i’m just going to have to find out the right way to get in. so i got up and kicked the door as hard as i could rpeatedly, then i noticed a face wrapped behind the curtains from down stairs from the hispanic family I thought i twas a women, i couldn tbe sure i did have my glasses on. then the man answered and let me in. he looked so tired and comfortable. I was in finally and ready for bed. I sealed off my curtains and crawled into bed after a quick massage from the massage chair my roomates borrwed me. I lit a cigarette , turned my fan and went to “sleep”. at 9am, 2 hours after going to sleep I was woken up to a jackhammer directly outside my window. I wanted to yell SHUT UP FUCKERS! but i was too tired. so here i am now sitting on my bed, starring out my window thinking about my grandpa bob. he is a great man he was the mayor of this small town called orderville, i loved his house when i was younger we would play NES, dr mario and all sorts of shit together it was a blast. a fat fly is dying in my room, i can smell it. he would always have the best food and stuff like that, i should call him. the people outside doing construction is the most annoying fucking thing in the world. i dont know why i chose this city to live in with no money, i think i need to save up a bunch of money and move back here someday. but i don’t feel right doing that i just need a break to go home, i stop from the city. i fill my belly with junk.
goodmorning.


2.Happy Birthday

teaching someone how to be is retarded fucking retarded. iwhy have i gained this ultra sense of negativity and hatred for my own self? i lopve it. was it the drugs iv’e abuse, was it something i did?


i just watched an aepisodeof this american life and it was about an artist painting peopel as jesus, i saw a guy i knew and it made me cry a lot. i feel good crying. i miss utah. it was good to see it. all these things words cant describe are eating me up..



Thursday, June 23, 2011 4:14PM
i’ve been eating in the strangest psychotic manner for the past year, i eat whatever people give me and i don’t worry about getting my order right. i used to pick off the onions and scrape the mustard. now iam completely passive with my choice of food and the digestion never works because i never truly wanted to eat it in the first place. it was just something to do, something to hold hand to mouth, like the habbit i’ve been told i suffer from.  i eat untill i’m full and bored still.  then i find somethine else constantly craving opposite of what i just ate, and following up with a desert that is high fructose or cigarette.  it’s weird to not feel your food, not to taste it or smell it. i don’t really taste or smell anything anymore, or for that matter feel.  i wish i could feel like before all of this started.  i used to be very sensitive and vulnerable. i wanted to cake calises over that to protect myself.   i felt everything for everyone,  and it hurt a lot.  but i unconciously decided very young that i would do what all the star musicians i looked up to did, fucked with drugs and aimed direcetly between their own eyes  in an attempt to toughen up or cover up what they really were. to become unaffected by whatever is done to us or whatever we hear.  this bad habit has continued for too long, i’ve been constiapted in thought and in shit for too long.  I have had dislocated shoulder and shaky hands for too long to bear anymore.  so they only thing to get back to where i was is start caring again, because in the first place trying to not care was a major dis to myself becuase this was a lie and incongruent with my inner light.  i slowly became more like my physical body on the inside and this was not a good thing, because my physical body is unhealthy.  but it isnt’ i watched a show yesterday with a parapalegic that had such a great outlook on life and everyhitn, he sat there watching movies and writing with his thoughts and learning about the world, he pierced his eyebrow, hired assistance to help paint his fingernails when he got tired of his mother.  then he found a girlfriend and this made me feel so good because physically this guy was a head and a small dead body ( he looked pretty cool with his painted black nails, died hair and eyebrow piercing)  he was actualy unhealthy, my lack of health is an act that i implanted in myself to try and be less effected by the world. but it has stabbed me in the back.  the ciagerettes for social interaction have become a terrible crutch adn an akward habit, they are no long natural and calming up to my face. i shake and am in pain the whole time i smoke them. i convince myself i’m addicted and so i am.  i do want to quit feeling this pain. i’ve just fed the wrong wolf inside me for so long that he is much bigger than my good wolf, i need to starve the other wolf and gut his heart and replace it with a stuffed version of a puppy.  i need to feed my posiitve wolf so it can take control again and grow strong. whatever you feed in your head is likely to grow bigger adn become more dominant.  so you have to watch what your feeding, if you get cockroaches in the physical world, you wouldn’t start leaving out feasts for them, you would try and be cleaner and never crumb.  if you get the cockroaches in your head then you should do the same thing, not feed them just because they are there, you need to make a change to keep them from coming back, and let them know there is nothing here for them.  then they will die off in your head and be eaten by the good wolf that acts in completely truth to what i want. 







as i pace in my kitchen gliding over the tile patterns and gazing out the window through the lense of the screen, and my operating self is set off, i hear your voice i hear him i feel him in the other room that fuck of a roomate of mine, the epihany of unhealthy one clot of fucking worthless shit i would rather not be around anymore, sure he helped me out today but he is shady stupid and wierd like the rest off all these new yorkers, this place is not as artistic and raw as i thought it was, it feels likenew york is an ice cube tray, we are the water that has to fit into its little spac enad freeze, we cannot be ourselfves heere, everyone has their own new york persona that is completely unlike them unless they were rasied here, maybe its just me. but i dont know i see all these people being themselves here and i can’t understand how they do it, why are they not coweirng in fear and shaking from the trauma of the energy? i guees severyone is diefferent and i’m as unique as they come. so i just don’t know anymore i think i need a break and that is alll, i think i need to stop befreiending people i cant stand also.  so if anything new york has toaught me that sometimes we make the wrong decisions and things are not exactly what they advertised, but i’m judging off of people i know that are my roomates that arent even from here. i hate the fuck out of him, his snake eyes and shaky animal fake laughter, i just want something real, i’m sick and tired of spindiling this web of fake shit for other people to look at and it fall apart into one complete stream of nothing but negativity that actualy drives me lower to the ground. sad songs are like the heart beat, slow and loving. i love the lsad songs they ring through the air and make me remember what it is lik eother places. i knew new york would be hard, but maybe i just wasnt cut out for it. i have a hard time bleieving that i just need to get over the culture shock and live here for a little longer, if it doesnt start getting better i might die i migtht killmyself or kill my roomate, sitting htere munching on my cheetohs leaving godamned dishes in my room for me to clean up. grow up dood your 27 years old and you act weaker and less stable than me, and i’m pretty unstable. maybe you should fucking overdose you pig coward fuck. with you goatee and backwards hat. you are the exact kind of person i don’t like, why have i let you into my life. i’;m not friends with you nore i will never really be. you are okay sometimes and we do eachother facvors but a friendship based on favors is both selfish and useless to me. i cna myself favors just as easily as you can.  my thought constipation has stopped i’m okay now, my body is okay too, i am proccesssing myf ood right and i’m breathing deep into my diaphragm. i don’t want to be hereso i’m leaving. but i’ll be here now while i have to be. man it isnt even sad that i’m leaving i am so ready. i felt this way in arizona. what is it that i need to be happy? i should actually try all the shit happy people do, it actually works. i just always have to say but after everything and try and prove it wrong. thats my nature a littele bit. but it is also my nature to breathe and read and love, write, fuck, sleep, eat, kill, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckf i want to paint i dream a pretty cool picture from tripping.  the ups store seems so fare away right now and i just want to play super nintendo games.



Saturday, June 25, 2011 12:35PM
my body has a pulse that my eyes create from the blindness they have inside they are tired of reahing so far to see everything, and i roll a cigarette now watching my stomache beat down to my legs, my arm pulses and shakes as i dance inside to this sorrow of lonesome ness, i block out all love like i thought i would. i remember the night we were in your car, the comfort of acar heat has alwasy made me feel at home and releaxed, parked under that yellow light in the parking lot of some school as the windows get tattered with frost and snow. the air is calm and everything was still. now the skies shake, the cars beat down their path outside my window screeching and screaming for my to wake up, they make designs on my wall even with my curtains drawn.  i talked to you yesterday and now this one called me today. oh how i cant wait for the simplicity of home. i thought i would never look forward to winter butin utah it is so calm late at night when those big flakes fall and you can look up and see stars, and hear no one else around. i am here for today and tomorrow i need to know what to do to get you back. i think i need to let down my guard and stop treating this life a s a war. i’m not on the battle field i’m in a city.  it feels like a battle field with all the blacks gawking and staring as a walk by just waiting to yell faggot when i get out of sight.  since i cut my hair a black girl hasn’t blown me kisses, and i feel more like a revolutionary artist or something someone taht is prepared for the apocalypse with his looks, long nails and sore muscles from digesting fistfuls of mushrooms and cigarettes. i didn’t drink last night because i was broke i’m glad though i’m sick of it. everyday is the same when i do that, i feel hungover even though i slept pretty great. i am still recovering, letting my insides find their rightful place in myself again. i nuture and treat myself like a kitten to try and follow what the books say, but it just hurts still. i have this beat down behind my eyes dismantling everying i look at and picking apart all the flaws. or just looking at it completely indifferent to weather or not its really there. the blindness i’ve created for myself is what really scares me when i go out, that people can see this, not see me. and so i jerk and cry sometimes when i’m alone, and i havent felt whole since i went to the beach. but i should go to the beach today cause i wont be back for a little while. it was simpler when all i had were video games, it was right to grow up and continue on theis new york path the beautiful city i just need to leave my fucking room. i’ve tried reminding myself this numerous times, but my lathargy takes hold and ties my muscles and smacks them with a ruler for every attempt i make to get out or think of something better. so i fly lon airlplaneds tomorrow and instead fo being excieted for that i am worried about how i will get to the airport, and if i need to print off my ticket. i’m sick of falling into this human trap that society has grown into. everyone lives in their ego and ahs no regaurd for themselves. everyonece in a while you will be decieved by some natural snake that has become completely like their ego, they arent the kindt hat i want to hang around with or be with. they just want to get soemthing out of you like most other people. they want to hurt you more and more that you can hurt yourself. they will invade your space and make you not able to breathe. like teh ocean flows inside of us and i can hear it in my ears up past over the glow of sound the city of people creates. i will be at the dock soon sitting by fisherman and outcasts, drunks, and sluts. preps and more. the amusement parks roller coaster of coney island will rattle and growl at me as an advertisement, but i wont hear it i will have my headphones on and shoes to walk where i’m going, i’ll clip my toenails that seem to never grow back in the same ammount of time. i’m growing up now and my body is a heaven for my soul to sit. smelling my roomates potatoes makes me want to eat, as i creep by to take a shit and peak in the room full of friends and a bed spread in the middle of the floor, they are probably eating psychoblin and dusting records off the shelf to roll blunts on and keep in rotation untill the  night comes, wehn they pull out the beer, and talk and enjoy eachother i wish i could enjoy someone else, but i feel like shit around other people, i only feel slightly better alone. it is a tomb here and i use it to my advantage. but my selfish ego wants a  free ride, its a hard thing to deny it.  once in a while i’ll get in my circle of breathing i can be okay if i continue this circle.  i loved you a while ago, now i don’t know if i do. i hope i do cause i think i need to be in love to get over this slump i dwell on the women of my past like week old soup that i keep heating , then reheating, eating and never shitting out, then i gather the rest of the ingriedients from all my relationships and cook it into loving you. then i eat that but i never shit it out. i need to shit this love out .


june 25th



ioh my god wehat a fucking night my roomate brandon invited mtto his show iand i dindnt really want to go but i did and it weas amazing, we ended up leaving and seeing remi on the train and goign ot the waterfront and drining a bunch of whiskey i wasnt distorted like most would be, we did handstands on the boardwalk and we climbed the pull to do pushups. also the one legged squats killed my legs, it was so great this beautiful kindergardten taecher named michael talked to me by the water and i felt like i didnt knowe how to act but loved him still, he got my email and we continued forward. brandon played guitar here and made 17 bucks to spend on more alcohol. we went to the stonewall and squoase the rough the peopl, when i wlaked in i shatered some glasses as i brushed passed that fucking stuffed corner full of used derinks .  afterwrd we got on the train and talked to a crazy clown until we missed our stop  we had to get on the other train and were sitting at the platform waitng and i saw a beauty with short legs and coarse asian hair. i was inlove. so on the trian ride home brandon suggested that i write a note to her and give it to her before she gets off the train. it was so fun and excited and i was just drunk enough to actually do it. she was a beauty and i told her so in the note. to my suprise she texted me right when i got home and we conversed and i found iout she was 17 years old. that is illegal. fuck, her name is tina.


Sunday, June 26, 2011
i need to get back into my old listening habits to music i enjoy, this includes grindcore and mmainly the locust is still my favorite band and i’ve forgotten that heavy music is so damned good.  i woke up with sore legs and felt really good for being hungover. i am leaving to the airport in a couple hours and i’m very excited to be goign home hopefulely i’ll get enough lovin to last me when i come back here. i’m going to miss the pizza. its going to be a tranformation being in utah for sure. i will feel so much more comfortable and happy with myself, even though i’m starting to feel that way here. you just got to do it like nike, i always say that and then forget it and go into weak deer shaking baby mode.  brandon is breaking up with olya and i could hear the poor guy yelling this morning “why did you bring me here ? did you bring me here to destroy me!?”  and last night he kept saying things in a heavy angry and he cried in front of me. it was sad and pathetic because i agree with everything he was saying about himself. he says he lies to protect people but thats bullshit he lies to be a liar and is a fuck for that. but i have a friend in miami now and hopefully he will leave because his vibes are not the greatest although we have fun sometimes. i’m glad i came to new york and i’m living the dream.  i can nget any girl i want and do whatever i want here.  its a golden age and i thought that we werent alive for anything cool, but look at the gay marriage law passing and the fucking crazy visual music going on lately. facebook is tearing down the world as usuall, but it doenst seem like that big of a deal somehow anymore.  i drank a bunch last night and had such a wonderful time it was like ever since i read the first couple pages of the eckhart toli book i have changed and i’m not ever going back to that weak persont hat lays  around feeling sorry for himself. i need to move on emotionally with my life and these women of my are ready to topple over, i’ve stacked them so high and i confuse them all now it is a silly thing to do but i do it . when i was a young kid i loved being the leader, the source of energy and the short good punk skateboarder. i havent skateboarded for a while now but plan on it when i get bakc into utah. scotty is picking me up at the airport in salt lake at midnight then we are going to my moms house in orem.  i’m excited to have a good summer with my old best buddy i hope he feels the same and is ready for this. i’m excited to ride in cars again, the last time i was in a car that wasnt paid for or complete junk was 4 months ago in my moms car on the way to the airport.  staying away from family is hard but it really allows you the space you need to find out who you are and make it work.  sherry the land lord is too scared to use paypal which is just fukcing retarded so i have to mail a check. i’m goign to find a way to work out here when i get bakc and i’m going to make bank and move into a sweet studio apartment where i can be louder more like myself. alone.   i hope i get brick walls and no cockroaches. the way everyone is here is a veil underneath they are just all from other places in america. this is america i guess.  its a great city for its ugly streets, pretty tall buildings, ugly people beautiful people. ethnic diversity. gangsters. i hope i can get to the jfk airport alright i need to take a shuttle there or something.  i love it i love it i love it.  i’m a strong young man. i’m going to be 22 years old, this age actually fits my personality. 21 was a weird age much like being 17, its an ugly number that doesnt match my personality. another year older, another year wiser. i’m an adult now growing up is what this is all about it wreaks through my skin.  my body is still young and my mind ttoo. i feel like i’m sstill developing.  the water grows up to the dock and swallows everything whole every once in awhile and washes away the sins of everything. somethings are just not worth the pain. simple life with simple thoughts, lack of self hatred opens up every door one could possibly see. its not how you are but how you think about it. be your inner self and this wouytward creature will follow you .  its a clueless way to live but it works .