This Blog

I have absolutely no idea what the future holds for this blog. I suppose you could call it a hiatus.

The Arrow and the Song, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Today is my mother's 50th birthday, and the day of my first Wiccan ritual.

I'll write down my experiences hopefully today, but sometime soon, when I have all the pictures to select from.

Until then, enjoy this:

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

2007 Burning Dreams

A friend of mine used to tell me about how he wanted to kill himself. He knew where to get the rifle in the attic, or he could leave the gas on and wait for an explosion.

I kind of wish he did sometimes. Not for his harm, but to watch what happens afterward. If I could go back in time, I would tell him to do it right then and there. I would stand on the front lawn and watch his house burn in the night.

Standing on the lawn, watching all these possessions, this life of interior design and expensive dinnerware. The family would burn. I wouldn't know what would happen to my life, but I don't think my life would be important in that situation.

The image is so beautiful in my head, the moon would shine like it always has. His house always had clear nights, where I would spend the night and stare at the moon. Isolated among relatives. The beds were uncomfortable, the climate never helped, but the moon was always glowing.

I would stand with two feet planted on the lawn of this disgusting house. I would watch the wind blow the flames to the sides. I wouldn't yell fire.

Running from the cops

That's what freedom is all about.

"How would you kill me?"

"How would you kill me?"
"I think by stabbing, because you enjoy pain because you want to know what it feels like. You like pain because you're curious about it, and after a while you start to become fond of it." I said.
"Where?" She inquired.
"Not in the stomach, around the chest." I replied, pantomiming sticking a blade in her chest. "Then maybe in the back, but the knife may get caught in your ribs and bones."
"Would you slit my throat?" She asked with a content curiosity.
"If you want me to. I've had this fantasy since a few years ago where I would cut someone's throat and blood would gush from their neck onto me. I thought 'Wow, I must really be angry.' But the way I see it now is much different."

I paused.

Yesterday we had a similar discussion:

"I fantasized about murder, and I would think about slitting the throat. It's like the removal of two different planes. The head, which is their ugly personality, all the contempt and hateful things, from the body, which is completely indiscriminate. You could put another head on the body, the body remains beautiful because it's not aware of the thoughts that go on in the head."

Today, I asked:
"How would you kill me?"
"I don't know, I would have to think about it." she answered.

Good Morning

To my Harmona:

I'm pretty sure you're missing me. Face it, who could survive without Meidinger for one or two days?

I'll text or contact you. I'm getting a new phone in a few hours, hopefully my contact list will be transferred.

There's so much I have to tell you and ask you!

It's sad that you moved out of the Journalism Cabinet home, but at least we got to gaze at the ceiling holes (which were equivalent to stars) before you left.

I'm happy you're graduating, though, it makes me glad to see you're moving on in your life, and Satan knows another year in this hell hole and you'll end up like me. It's not as bad as it looks, though, you get adjusted to the insanity. Why am I telling you this? You already know!

I know this post will cheer you up over an Q_Q-ing you may have been feeling lately.

So, let's make plans today! We'll go to Venice and eat dinner and paint the town so-gladness.

And tell me about the canole story you heard about, I'll fill in the details.

So glad, so glad

'Dinger

One cup of tea, not enough for company
Maybe tomorrow, you can let me borrow
Another cup of tea, another cup of tea
And your company, and your company 

Pee ess, I think you're the only person who reads this that would understand the picture I've used at the top of my blog. I have to send you what I wrote about the experience.

Men, There Will Be No Country for Old Blood

If there was ever a week of favorite memories it would be this one.

So, I'm going to start taking (or stealing) pictures more often and showing you depraved readers.

I couldn't begin to tell you the excursions I have taken part in these past several days, but I know that I'll have too many days to spend, and I must spend them out of this cell.

Have I told you about Peyote Punk and The Purity Police?

Peyote Punk and the Purity Police is the name of my punk rock band: featuring instant classics like "Fuck Driving!!" and "Lean Pockets (and Meth)" and "Hawaiian Baby Woodrow Wilson," as soon as they are finished being written.

We will practice this week, in sketchy ass Tujunga, the ancestral homeland of each member (except maybe the Purity pig.)

Our first show may be in sketchy ass Tujunga, the ancestral homeland of each member (except maybe the Purity fuzz.)

When we do record, which will (hopefully) be before July ends, will be posted here, and there, and anywhere.

Through a long, well-conceived rant, I developed a theory.

A theory that I may just turn into a speech, but long story short:

Burn money, dismantle military, and smash the state for consistently throwing their weight around to impede the success of anyone below the upper class. Spending the majority on an imperialistic military, accusing nations of holding criminals, and invading the nations like a vigilante police force in a crisis state.


Money changes everything. If you start spending the majority's money on one subject, the rest of the capitalist slave's currency will be put into the prosper of that subject. You spend the government budget on the military, people will support the military. (It's kinda like fascism, but we call it democracy.)

Instead of going to college, I believe learning how to grow food and build houses, learning first aid, and self educating myself on autonomous ideals outside of a specialized course will be more beneficial than a piece of paper telling you that you can officially design the interior of an apartment.

I have concluded that any borders of large land masses should be erased. If you're going to change how you live by taking a few extra steps in an opposite direction, I believe that you are a moron. We don't need massive governments, we don't need countries, we just need people and climate regions to dictate where we should farm our crops. Fuck your mass produced industrialized and genetically modified food for ravaging the bodies of people through outsourced labor and horrible chemicals in our meals.

In case you were wondering, I have no idea what I'm going to write next.

Did I mention I paraded down an incredibly busy street with a friend of mine who painted Death to America on a piece of cardboard? What a fun Saturday it was.

I've seen you in my face as I've aged.
You beautiful fuck up, so casually brave.
It made me less lonely, it helped me.
The conventions that broke your nose
I find quaint.