the last day of september

what is the reality and consequence

of existing in such a state

the prehistoric locust leaves yellow

as does my skin, glazing sallow and waxen

cold as a lizard, the chameleon, why

shouldn't i eat only air

the sun warms only one of my hemispheres

who ever said such a thing as a horizon exists

when it always does, but still never

my edges and insides co-mingle, lungs

crumple and soon i will open my mouth wide and

keep opening and split down the middle as

a succulent fruit,

sometimes sleep lets me forget

i am an illustration of a pomegranate

in an outdated encyclopedia

i roll cigarettes for mice, sometimes

losing the paper in the crevices of my

fingerprints,

young carrie fisher is my wife

she does lines of o.c. off my hip-bones

and sucks them until they are pink

self-portrait age 23

work rant 9/25/09

hearing the receptionist on the other end of the line
pick me up from hold, pause, sigh, and hang up
yes, i think, yes
this 30 lb. battery backup plus surge protection
one more dismissive aphorism from my boss and it is
going out the window
broken glass and crumpled mini-blind wings
it started an unrelenting high-pitched shriek earlier today
now thought it is unplugged that is all i can hear
the same tone when i was on hold, three beeps in a lonely vacuum
the company it came from has a nice trade-in service but
but, i've spent the last two hours searching through files for receipts to find out if the battery actually two years old and out of warranty or not though my boss recalls having the battery since before he moved offices two years ago and the model is discontinued on the website
so i asked my boss, are we ready to just trade in, it is a nice deal
you know
on the same brand that has served us well for at least over two years
he tells me to call some computer repair people he hasn't worked with for over a year
ask to speak with the owner, as for a general opinion? or?
"just ask what he thinks"
instead i got the receptionist girl, who put me on hold, picked me up, sighed, and let the phone drop back down
which is exactly what i would have wanted to do
fuck this shit
this is just goddamn ridiculous

interlude

(click for wet fun)

occupation

general learning ability verbal numerical spatial form perception clerical perception motor coordination finger dexterity manual dexterity eye / hand / foot coordination color discrimination strength climbing balancing stooping kneeling crouching crawling reaching handling fingering feeling talking hearing tasting / smelling near acuity far acuity depth perception accommodation color vision field of vision weather cold hot wetness noise vibration atmosphere moving electric height radiation explosion toxic / caustic other directing repetitive influencing variety expressing alone stress tolerances under people judgments

colorstrology

the color defines you, the color coyly strokes your ego, let the color into your life

this serves as a more general "oh god i'm getting older again soon" reminder

dreams > waking; viking

Of meeting a young man, tall enough to startle, who introduces himself. He's not from here, but some nordic country. His long hair is ice-blonde tied back with a white cloth and his eyes are ice-blue; he is such a combination of sunshine and ice that the effect is, naturally, blinding. He's introducing himself, but his name is lost in the glare and you ask him to repeat it, smiling and holding up a finger, "one more time, say it?" He says it, and again you do not hear, some snarling of syllables in the throat. You smile, he smiles, who needs a name, so unspecific and predetermined. You are on the flank of a mountain in the spring. He shows you a plant, a large shrub of icy-green tendrils and as you look closer you see the small glittering round leaves.

almost everyone i know

is punishing him/herself.

fuuuuuuuuuuuuck

"fuck"

sometimes i just want to lay and stare

i ain't interesting, hi.

just need to keep reminding myself how okay things ultimately are, and will be. "the screams" crept back these past few days and as much as i expect them especially around fall every year but it is so much of a bodily sensation paired with a mental state that i mostly don't know how to avoid it. I started calling it "the screams" because when you get a bad dose of the screams it feels like deep in the back of your skull there high-pitched female death shrieks, unrelenting, though you're not really hearing anything and it's not quite so literal. It gets almost impossible to focus on anything but the state of uncomfortable, trembling dread; it gets harder to breathe and you feel a little like throwing up, but mostly you feel like your skin is about to leap violently off and what you really want most is profound physical pain, to claw at your arms and pound your legs and slice your face and be beaten with strong fists to make it go away, this indescribable brain-rape.

things that need doing pile up; bottles of liquor drain like they've got no viscosity; the screams wake up with you one morning and you realize they've been coming.

this sounds melodramatic all typed in my words and really like, i'm fine, i can function. but if i describe it maybe i can recognize it and identify it and soothe it; i mean, i get by fine, some times are just wretched and i am wretched but i am strong

you got somethin' i need