Flesh & Bone

I stood on the cusp 
of March
and breathed warm air.


Found Orion's belt.
Watched the planes,
drank in the jangling 
cosmic bodies.


And in contrast,
the clouds stood still,
and the stars whirred by.


Space was moving,
time was standing still,
breathing
through me
in the dark.

Jump Around

I'm excited.


For tomorrow
and the finishing of 
our film.
For the burning of the dvd
and the end of the process.


It will be bittersweet as
always. But it will be worth it.


I am sleepy.
Eternally, never-ending
sleepless feelings.
My body just says no,no, no.
Sleep.
But I can't.
My days are not meant to 
be spent hibernating.


I am afraid.
Of the future,
of my life, and whatever
it will bring.
I can't stand the look at a
long stretch of time before me.
There are too many unknowns.


I'm anticipating
a wonderful wonderful time
on April 28th.
With four awesome people
and an awesome road trip
and a rad film festival.
I cannot wait.


But why are the good things always 
so far away?

Old Joy

This album is just 

encapsulating every feeling

I have ever felt.

No joke.

Every song is

so perfect.

I can't stop listening.

I feel like Charlie Fink 

and I might have some things

in common (based solely on his lyrics...).

I love the guitars and the newfound synth

and his beautiful voice

and the strong lyrics.

Listen to it.

It's rad.

Paradise Stars

I would take good care of you

when you got sick.

I would make you tea

and keep you safe.

Lie in bed with you

and keep you company.

Try to calm your aching bones.

Hold you and tell you nice things.

I feel like you would not like this at all,

that you are sufficiently independent

and manly enough to handle getting the

flu or a cold or whatever.

But maybe it'd be nice.

I would take good care of you.

I would try very hard.

I'd stay with you

in your feverish states

of chills and sleepiness;

weather your coughing and sneezing

and broken voice,

and be there until you were well again.

Ghosts

I love you.

Edison Girls

You know what feels

great?

Doing what you love.

Doing it well.

And getting some

recognition for it.

In the past week

I have been 

told twice

(TWICE!)

"We are going to publish your poem".

Basically,

my heart exploded 

twice from joy.

And 

it feels

really fucking good.

Great, actually.

And my wonderful teacher

(hello Ms. Ressler!) 

got one of her college friends

to send me her book of poems,

it has just come in the mail.

Maggie Smith

is the poet,

and she writes inside

that she wishes me luck with my poems.

And they want to 

tell about my poetry awards

 at an awards assembly

(how totally lame, I know).

It happened last year,

and another teacher 

apparently said very nice things

about me,

but I missed the whole ordeal.

So this year he goes

"Well, at least you can come

and listen to me 

make a fool of myself 

trying to talk about you"

(or something very similar).

Sounds like fun.

So in general.

Poetry.

Poetry.

Poetry.

I feel really rad right now.

Hello? Is This Thing On?

Oh. Today.
Today was good.


Good because 
of this lovely thing
called film.
With the lovely people
collectively known 
as my mafia family.


We do not kill people.
Instead we make videos.
And now, a film.


Scripted, cast, filmed,
and currently in the editing process.


For those who do 
not know the joys
and frustrations of 
Final Cut
you probably do not understand
the overwhelming catharsis
it provides.


Razor blade tool.
Snapping.
WAV files.
Bad TV.


Watching scenes.
Cutting them.
Arranging.


Laughing
and watching
and making something
rad
with people I 
enjoy so much.


Working towards a goal,
throwing your whole self
into it. 


Beautiful.
Exhilarating.
Gorgeous.


I left my appointment
in the sad building of mental health,
and,
you don't know know how great this is,
I go back and walk into the room
to see three amazing human beings
in various states
of A/V geekdom.


Working in Final Cut.
Sticking the brand new fancy
camera to whatever surface they could.


I never tire of these hours.
Of this work.
Of this tedious, detail-oriented job.
The stress and deadlines
add a thrill I love,
for once.


And I had a sad thought,
what if there is no film after
high school?


And that hit hard.


No film?
No tapes?
No Final Cut?


No... rendering?


Oh god no.
I love that.
I sort of need it.


Two passions, I think:


Poetry.


Film.


And so a new adventure may begin.

The Beach! The Beach!

Here's the thing.


I absolutely need it to be
June.


I have an unhealthy desire for
the summertime.


Warmth, sun, 
late nights, long drives,
sandals, adventures,
dancing, parties.


None of this structure,
none of this sadness,
none of this pressure.


And as I listen to 
all this lovely surf music
I cannot help
but 
think of summer
and how far away it is.


Everything needs
to speed along and
be over with.


All of March, April, May
need to be quick
and uneventful.

The Grizzly Bear Sharktopus

Somedays
are good.


But this was the first 
one in a long time
to feel
really good.
There was edge-feathering
of sadness.


I could forget for a while.
Control something.
Make something.


Be with people.


It felt so great.


Not lying, either.


I didn't feel bad at all.

All My Rage

My beautiful friends
are falling apart.


And I can't even man up
enough to handle this.


I stood on your front lawn
and could hardly breathe
and wanted to puke,
wanted to just 
vanish.
Cried.


Couldn't do it.


Can't do anything.


Can't help anyone.


Catatonic
for some time.


Need to sleep,
need to get out.
Do some shit I shouldn't do
and forget who I am 
for a while.


Need to find an escape route
before all the exits
are blocked.

Scarborough Fair

I have some anchors.


I am trying to find them
and hold onto them everyday.


Thank you for driving over last night
and staying with me for a while.
You are amazing. I couldn't 
exist without you.


Thank you for listening to me.
For trying to understand,
for saying "I worry about you",
"There you are, I looked for you". 
For being you.


And thank you, 
film family,
thank you film.
There is such
deep camaraderie,
in a sense all its own.


I can control some things.
Some things I can't.


There will be something new someday.
There will be more
that is worthwhile and fulfilling.


There must be more.


Somewhere.


And then you said
"Maybe we should talk about 
something else."
And proceeded to walk over
to the board,
and next to Stalin you
wrote "Viva la Revolution"
(in full spanish, oddly).

Song 2

None of them ask:


'how are you doing?'


'how are you feeling?'


'tell me what's going on in your life?'


There is a 50 question evaluation.
There is another evaluation.
And another.


Endless paperwork.


No help.


No feeling better.


Then are simply things beyond 
my control which make it worse.


Where have I gone?

Pure Morning

I guess I just haven't had much

to say lately.

Gold Into Straw

I went on a film adventure today
with one of my few guy friends. 


And it was rather wonderful.
Sort of picturesque at times.


I walked through a muddy soccer field,
threw my shoes back onto the parking lot and then
ran. Swinging a camera and splashing through
the cold.
It was like a movie scene,
ironic as I was carrying a camera.


"I've always wanted to be hit by a car."
Who says that? Even if only for the lawsuit.


It was nice.
The weather was bad.


And the melancholy still
ate quietly at my burning insides,
but it was numbed
by cold toes.


Oh, and a first happened today,
this morning. 
Another of my few guy friends
offered me his jacket today.
How nice.


I know some really nice guys.


And at one moment I thought,
maybe I'll always just be the friend.


But would that be so bad?
Yes and no.


But maybe I will always be the friend.


Another part of me 
wonders, is anything I do 
ever appealing to any guy?


Sometimes I feel pretty
and I wonder if somewhere
in the hallway sea of folks,
does somebody ever go
"who's that girl?"


I mean, who cares.


But it would be nice to know.

Fly

I want to get in a car
and drive hours away.


Just so I may
start over again.

I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

I feel so fucking shitty.

I can't cope with anything.

I just want to cry

and sleep.

I don't care about anything.

I feel so empty.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Sketch

I'll be the first to admit.

I don't understand life.

                                    At all.

Family Tree

Only one more tonight,

I promise.

But this one is most important.

It's for my friends.

It's because I don't know

what would've happened

without them.

Where would I have ended up

without that support

the past week?

They are my anchors.

There are no humans I adore more than them.

I don't know anyone stronger.

I don't know anyone more loyal.

I am so glad there

are people in my life

who I know I can call

at any time if I'm feeling bad.

I know you mean it.

I know you aren't going anywhere.

I know you are there.

That is truly the most important

thing in my life.

I just don't know how to

express how amazing,

how devoted and lovely.

I don't know what I can do

in return.

Just know,

I'm here, too.

You need anything,

I'm going to be here.

I want to be your anchor too.

Waiting For the Moon to Rise

That voice he has,
when he's very focused,
sort of sleepy-sounding,
eerily calm.


It's my favorite of his voices.


I can't actually concentrate
on what I'm thinking
about or saying when I 
hear it. 


I have actually stopped
mid-sentence before
when he spoke in that voice.


There's a look, too.
It's that one when 
he stands beside me,
looks over and tilts his head
and smiles a certain way.
Gets me every time.


Again, I have become flustered
and probably made a fool
out of myself
when he looks at me like that.


Today he goes
"If you need anything..."


I don't know what part of
anything that was applying to.
But the fact that you say
it is so nice. 


Also,
"You know how much I care about you".
That meant
a lot.

The Great Car Dealer War

Isn't it devastating
that we all learn at
some point, that we'll
die? 


When does that happen?
We cannot be born with
knowledge of death,
that is not possible,
it is not in our bones.
It must acquired,
this fateful blow
to our souls must
be learned.


A snap realization in our lives.
Are we young?
Is that when our innocence 
truly fades?


We must become realists,
yes. We cannot act like we 
live forever, well, forever.
But those instances
where we do not know
of the human condition.
Before we have felt that
heart-seizing moment
of clarity
that there is no escaping it,
those instances
are pure.


We can't live forever,
but we can try.


This was sparked by the song
"Up From Below"
(Edward Sharpe/Magnetic Zeros)


"I was only five,
when my dad told me I'd die,
I cried as he said 'son, there ain't nothing
to be done" 


How sad and strange.

Morning Comes

I just want
to feel better.


I feel trapped.
Yesterday was going so well.
I felt alright,
I listened to music
and wrote a poem.


I hadn't done that
for a while.


But today I woke up
and felt shitty again.


I don't know if
this is the normal sadness
or if this is the sinking sadness.


I cannot recall what I
did to deal with this
before it
collapsed in.
Or if I dealt
with it at all.


I can't figure it out.


I can't feel better
because I don't know how.


I want to lie
in bed
and go back to sleep
but it's way to hard
to get up again.


I feel so closed in,
in a routine I can't
relate to,
in an environment 
which lends nothing
to me,
I am not
fulfilled.
I am not happy.


How can I get there?