as a wedding wov

i'm killing time waiting for my nailpolish to dry--it's such a drag. and that incident New Jersey--i'm tryig to look through that. oh i just love people... i'm going of to a wedding tonight--now we all know how i feel about that.

will be back to report.

bye.

bright midnight

sorry, got sidetracked with no direction home!--so i'm done with both that and don't look back. i'll talk on those soon, i think. gotta swallow and digest first. (yeah bobby would love that)

see ya.

into the wild

"Depart with your pain," Fyodor claims from a far corner. He gets older, slowly, and only after forever comes around, he'll be an old man. He then snaps his fingers in front of me to get my floating attention back on him. "...Truth is higher than your pain."

I glance over at Carl, who smirks, and mumbles to himself, "There is no coming to consciousness without pain."

I'll be aroung here tonight, so expect some gibberish.

"Life -- Death & The lumberjacks are coming'"

Oh there's so much to talk about.

I'm back home. For good this time. I had really missed that feeling of being on your own turf, and i got out of the car last night and realized--for the first time in my life--the air smells different in the paradise city. I swear I'm telling you the truth, and it's not a bad smell--not of cheating and robbing and killing, something much different, something filled with anything, good or bad--life. the air in the city of mine smells like life.

I'm done with almost all the books--except the idiot, which i'll come around to it. i'm saving that for the last (don't ask me why.) My head's already crazy enough with Kerouac in the back, Dostoevsky in the corner, Dylan walking around with his guitar case and glasses. They're all trying to figure a way out of life, and i'm giving them full authority up there--maybe, if they uncover something, i'll get to see it then.

Anyways--oh by the way, I'm at the age of 20 now. I'm not celebrating my birthday this year, or the years to come unless i feel like i learnt something new, or met someone unique, or felt something i never felt before. i'm not counting the years anymore, but the experiences. I'm waiting for the laughing lions, they must come, right? we'll see how long that'll last...i really wasn't planning to say anything about the whole bday things, but this is like a recap of the past months, i suppose, so i let it loose. Moving on...

"But why talk," Nietzsche once wrote, "when no one hath my ears!" That I guess sums up my unfamiliarity to everyone in my life. I speak--too much at times--but I speak the part of me that appeals to their ears. Others, I can't spill out the way I want. I used to think it was my inability to explain, a whole summer taught me something else. There're ears everywhere, not that mine is better or worse than anybody's, they're just mine, you know. i like things that way. i accept things that way. and if somewhere, sometime, i meet people with my own ears, it'll be another day then. anyways (again)--

"why dont you learn to dance instead of looking for new friends? dont you know that all the friends have been taken?"--that was dylan, not Nietzsche, if it makes any difference.

One of the great things about the specialness of a birthday is that you do things that you haven't been able to do. Reading Tarantula for example. Yeap, we've been staring at each other for a long time now--me and Zimmerman--and i finally had the guts to take it in my hands. Can't say I understood much--but i saw so many things, you wouldn't believe it--all these images floated around and i had a conversation with him for better or worse. and i came across some of the most beautiful words i read in my life. and between the pig and the lawyer and the "destroyingly boring" man and arethe "with no goals, eternally single& one step soft of heaven" and all the rest, I found a few diamonds in the haze. I could talk about it all day, but it's a bit of a closed box, or it feels like it should be, like it should stay between me and zimmerman and no one else. You should know when to hush.

"how come youre so afraid to stop talking?"--good point.

you know what, if you put me to it, i'll keep rambling all day. i should start wrapping this up. "Catch Peter at morn--" Dostoievski speaks of an old proverb inside my head, a smile on his wise face, at the break of dawn of a rainy day, "if you give him the day to think, he'll begin to stink."

so long lovers.

and the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming...

so got a few extra hours in town. leaving possibly on friday morning, maybe tomorrow afternoon.

last night was fun. i missed the gals. and midnight in the city is oddly peaceful--unless you're getting stabbed to death somewhere. we did dinner and coffee but it wasn't enough. as soon as i get my ass down here for good i'm gonna gather everyone around again. i miss people much more than i think i would. oh and there was the whole coffee fortune telling things. wolves are one repeating theme lately i asked my friend--she said it's either a big change. or that it symbolizes some sort of a proud loneliness or whatever. which--again--oddly (a lot of things are in this city i call home) is flattering in it's own way. you know the deal-- the dragon says "thou shalt" and i come around hopefully saying "i will." or maybe not. dunno.

bought myself another pair dylan glasses--been shopping all day. feet hurts head hurts still home is home. you get an--guess what?--odd feeling at home.

anyways--i came along this today and thought it was..you know..the fallen angel type:

food for something

here's something that made the curves of my brain tingle a bit.

"ice cold are the innermost wells of the spirit, a refreshment to hot hands and handlers."

huh. i kinda always thought of it the other way around.

brown rice, sea weed and a dirty hotdog

lovers, i'm back in town--shortly.

i'll be having dinner with a few friends tomorrow night then sail away from the paradise city--again. i'll let you know how it goes if i can.

in the meantime, me zimmerman and nietzsche have made quite a group.

miss me.

...

yes, the river perfectly knows.

summer's almost gone

na-ah, not really.

now i see it was actually pretty suitable that i left writing for a while following jimmy's anniversary, but it wasn't intentional or anything. i went out of town and no connection causes no sharing. anyways, i'm back for a brief day--i'll be leaving tomorow afternoon.

until then--i read some, thought some and listened to some. hopefully, we'll do even more of that for the next few weeks.

there's that dusty smell of heat in town--as it always is in the summer.

miss me.

july 3rd...

"All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier."

Walt Whitman

july...

is such sad business.


"The face in the mirror won't stop
The girl in the window won't drop
A feast of friends
"Alive!" she cried
Waitin' for me
Outside!"

july...

...

Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful
Comes death on a stranger hour
Unannounced, unplanned for

Like a scaring over-friendly guest you’ve
Brought to bed

Death makes angels of us all
& gives us wings
Where we had shoulders
Smooth as raven’s claws

....

jim morrison

july...

As I Look Back


As I look back
over my life
I am struck by post
cards
Ruined Snap shots

faded posters
Of a time, I can't recall



I am Scot, or so
I'm told. Really
The heir of Mystery
Christians

Snake in the Glen

The child of a
Military family...

I rebelled against church
After phases of
Fervor

I curried favor in school
& attack'd the teachers

I was given a
desk in the corner
I was a fool
&
The smartest kid
in class


Walks in D.C. in
Negro streets. The library
& book stores. Orange
brick in warm sun.
The books & poets magic

Then sex gives greater stimulation
Than you've ever known &
all peace & books lose their
charm & you are thrown
back on the eye of vision



History of Rock
coinciding w/ my
adolescence
Came to LA to
Film School
Venice Summer
Drug Visions
Roof top songs
early struggles &
humiliations
Thanks to the girls
who fed me.


Making Records

Elvis had sex-wise
mature voice at 19.

Mine still retains the
nasal whine of a
repressed adolescent
minor squeaks & furies
An interesting singer
at best -a cream
or a sick croon. Nothing
in-between.



Road days


fear of Plane death

And night was what Night
should be
A girl, a bottle, & blessed sleep

I have ploughed
My seed thru the heart
of the nation.
Injected a germ in the psychic blood vein.

Now I embrance the poetry
of business & become - for
a time - a "Prince of Industry"

A natural leader, a poet
a Shaman, w/ the
soul of a clown.

What am I doing
in the Bull Ring
Arena
Every public figure
running for Leader

Spectators at the Tomb
- riot watchers

Fear of Eyes
Assassination

Being drunk is a good disguise.

I drink so I
can talk to assholes.
This includes me.

The horror of business

The Problem of Money
guilt
do I deserve it?

The Meeting
Rid of Managers & agents

After 4 yrs. I'm left w/a
mind like a fuzzy hammer

regret for wasted nights
& wasted years
I pissed it all away
American Music

End w/ fond good-bye
& plans for future
- Not an actor
Writer-filmmaker

Which of my cellves
will be remember'd

Good-bye America
I loved you

Money from home
good luck
stay out of trouble



Jim Morrison, 1966-1971. Wilderness.

july...

...makes me sad.

whitman in alaska

so reruns of Northern Exposure is on--thank God. The episode today was entirely on Whitman. How sweet is that?
i think i'm the clod, but i believe more in the pebble.
love you tons.