sometime in early june

it grew like some type of mystical curse from a fantasy script. in origin, all you see is the good. our hero's abilities enhanced and energized through this magical plant. The stem smoothly pale and the bright yellow bursts surrounded by ocean blues. wrapping around the stem he pulls the roots loose and they slowly, but surely slide into his veins. the invigoration now becomes astonishing. but the wincing begins. the foreshadowing we are all to familiar with. the double edged sword shows its full length. the roots are by now, our hero's veins. pumping sap and pines to his heart. it becomes the new way he circulates. now the inital joy and shock of this whole new system, this new way of being clenches and twists, only on occasion, bringing him dramatically to his knees. this repition reveals the cause. by now he's so committed...by now he's coughing up nector. it becomes clear that it has taken him. his heart thinckens and his blood slows cold and he turns solid. in one single moment of actualization, of realization the roots that were once apart have now become him and that becoming has turned finally its true face forward, showing a deep rooted poison guised as a super-soldier-serum. what's worse? the tragedy of burning beauty or. the seperation. the pulling the tearing the hoping the crying, sighing, shying, the hopes of dying. the pines sharpen and the heart skips. its relience planned. like quitting a chemical. a chemical that never leaves.its black roots dangling deep inside knocking on walls and lasting as a shadow. the pain of complete refiguration and mutilation mixed in hope reliance and possibility. these are the poisons of this plant. energy flows withthin its juices side by side, embedded, dancing...razor blades to your insides. the scars of it all... they never leave.

sticky veins, and i'm the blood

i feel like i'm 22. like my passion is exiting stage right leaving a downed head and an empty theater. but i'm not quitting. i'm determined to defend my craft. to stay on top to make my life something considerable. soemthing not exactly boring and obedient. like the force of blood bouncing through my soft veins i will push through every cavern and every space to feed life too that which, without this surge, is left for decay. I'll push life into every hollow void forcing it to flutter into activity. vibrate into a hum and maitain an existence that worth is inherent not just the goal

the things you'll never try to know

it's something i...can't...quite understand. your temprament your aggitation. your lies your exaggeration. your inability to calm to reconcile to even deal. sorrow is lonliness moving through the blood. physical. atmospheric. lonliness of the mind, of a belief, of a concept, of an understanding. lonliness of no one else quite having the same vision...at all. so rest on your side even when your awake. you give up what you've never known and forfeit your mind. and i'm walking away quietly in the hopes of a call of a reach of a symbol that you're even still breathing. that you can see any shred of this light

things will always change

change? you ever heard someone say that things always change...or that they are always changing? yeah it's not true. the word change suggests a state of definition that will be altered. But if things are always changing then this definition, this stable structure would never exist. In a world of constant alteration nothing exists as a whole to experience change. The word change refers to 2 seperate ideas: that something is, will, or has altered and that something is in existence of solid unchanging structure to be subjected to an alteration. I attack the second assumption of "change." No set and whole structure exists to experience alteration. Alteration exists constantly without unity. Alterations are spontaneous and with infinite connectivity. What we see as a whole structure is merely a set of constantly a differing movement. Change is our generic word that has become outside the true meaning of the constant "flux" of the world.

quick, quiant, come

as criplling as paining as frail as it is...i'm in, tossed. thrown hated painted sainted and overall extremely frustrated. at never knowing when why or how any of this will make a penny's worth of fucking sense. i just move through the sounds and save the smiles and hope my overwhelming sense of doom and pain won't seek out my precious hiding spaces. i can't shake my shadows and i know they're there. i won't forget them. they are me and they are now a part of you

just keeps burning

i'm putting up new walls. i can't think. my crativity is gone. vaporated and my memory too. and it keeps getting worse

this is dragging me down (but trust me, i'm fighting)

more papers. ideas and blunders and analysis. all bullshit that just isnt' good enough for the man in the chair. but why the fuck should i care? It's life. a life not hinged on school performance, work, or social status. it very well could be...if you let it. but i won't. so this cloud looms over me and wish not to gret it and when i do i wince when i rach for it. i wish it nothing more then a safe trip on to the next poor soul. inquire from m a thousand words and get nothing back but blank. i've nver put my heart into any assignment not cause i don't want to, but bcause i've never felt the want to. call it slacking, call it whatever trendy phrase you'd like but i get the picture and the message without ever sending mine. i'm sick of never sending mine. of mine being mixd up in direction and insufficiency. in subjectivness and expectation. how can my words be exactly what you want to see? i can't find the will to motivate myslf to abliterate my mind. to devoid myself only to accept this assignemnt. at the moment i am incapable.

if i could only type an adequate exhale. it's like a biological purge. the exit of the unwanted. pulled in, mixed up, and spit the fuck back out. like a shodowy memory or anything you think you know. like all the dreams you tried so hard to believe could come true your breath mocks your attempts to just hold on. to keep it together. blink, it's gone. but the compression seeps away slowly. So you're confused. was it ever really there? yes. no. it exist in consequences. you move from its push, and you push back

this one is a killer. the feeling of superiority. That itching in your mind. it's like a diabetic type illness livable with, but still closely watched. The constant questioning, the ability to morbidly sift through words, commas, head tilts, eye contact, posture, sentence structure, phone activity, and subject matter in seemingly instances marvelling at the paranoid image before you. you investigate and, sadly, you always seem to be right. so then you fight inside yourself. "Am I just being paranoid again?" "but last time, and the time before that, it wasn't just paranoia. you picked up on it." This three way direct battle resounding in a crowded cluttered arena of millions of other Mini skirmishes, my mind going awry. contradicting itself. my imagination seeping into my morality, my mortality slipping into fantasy and my loves, my fears, my dreams, my memories clash. fighting battles that predict the future. form my actions. then those results enter and pick their fights. cluttering and cluttering. all around the one i ponder now. is it me? am i crazy? or am i just impossible?

we can talk about the mind in terms of health. let's consider some things. anger is the pathogen. unexpected. lingering. you can't shake it though. you don't wanna go to the doctor for it, but maybe you should. you're just too afraid of the diagnosis. justified or not? vengance is the beckonning of your primal rage. that insticnt deep in your mind, down in the depths of your blood. it calls on you to take physical control. clear the path so to speak. worst of all is jealousy. like a plague. a nuclear attack. it's the closest thing to insanity the sane ever feel. it's a panic, a nausea, a fear, and unsettling beyond description. it takes control. parasitic. it determines your speech, the glares you give, and smoothers your smiles. the warmth of your heart falls victim to these overwhelming symptoms. you become a mad scientist, your craft molded by paranoia and fueled by distrust. you're always looking for a cure or a trigger to pull. to shoot yourself with a justification for your illness...or you just create one.

power structures

ok this one comes from an interesting source. i had all my icp albums on shuffle and the song "Ninja" from the "Tunnel of Love" EP (good ep as well) comes on. I hadn't heard it all the way through but the beat caught my ear so I stopped surfing the web haha to listen to what Violent J was spittin'. So the whole song is about J's phantasy of having the fighting skills and ability of a romanticized movie-type ninja (ie seemingly unbeatable, never caught or punished, other worldly). The thing is he frames it all these situations where some one of certain social circumstances could viably find a sense of justice in this glorified violent action. It makes you think of social justice. Is it a natural inclination to feel a want for physical punishment on those who seemingly over step certain social bounds? Moreso I found the power dynamic interesting. basically J wants ninja powers just to be able to act without fear of circumstance. He yearns to erase the social stigma of repercussion associated with gut reactions to strike. mainly he is talking of a power to always know you can overcome the adversary. no longer is the person you wish to physically harm a threat to you. you wish to already have confidence in your power over another. the physical power dynamic (which i believe is a natural urge), i think plays a large roll in how people interact with one another. i'd be more likely to go after a few assholes if i knew my ninja skills gave me absolute advantage over them. so is fear and uncertainty part of social teaching or is almost like a natural check on our violent natural side? since we cannot have absolute ninja power over each other (with such fantasized confidence) we have varying degrees of intimidation causing ripples in social settings and how people treat one another. so the ninja thing sounds awesome right? but doesn't it threaten natural justice? but damn it feels horrible to not be certain of control...the contradictions roll on

my obsession with metaphysics

What we're like how many some odd miles away from one another?
there's something imaginatively cinematic about you're car ride
through all the lights
you're simple hair the foreground to this new kingdom
other wordly
void of all the familiar lows
the atmosphere looks amazing
your eyes focused straight ahead
She invited me on this ride
how privelaged am i
merely an accessory
she didn't have to include me
all the treasures she was newly obsorbing
and she held to me, for an extra smile. like a special circumstance
it changed
ups and downs
jealousy i've been entagled in by a world; a society
it's hard to pick through it all

the deacons in Philadeplhpia would be proud
this needle resting upon their bible
yellow light cast across
an deformed shadow and a full body with not an ounce of life
but the blood keeps pumpinp

damn damn damn. last night was a blast. like crazy style. i haven't had fun like that in i don't know how long. things just flowed. brittany was awesome. we talked all night and laughed and laughed and laughed. we got close. i mean that really made the night. like...this girl....something special

i can't focus. it's becoming my new habit. no hammers means the purpose of the trigger changes. now it;s just aesthetic. The conflict between my blood and my bones is reeking havoc on my nerves. Which one is right? i'm sure there is no definite answer... even that assumption seems buried under something else as well. something i'll never know. i no longer want to be a victim of circumstance. at least not on your terms my dear. you've thrown everything at me. every trick in your rule book and i'm still standing. i can't even read the words anymore. you've surely altered me. it seems. every wind turns some leaves. somewhere.

tool:a sad confession...

ok. i know i'll get railed by some subservient teenager who has grown up with Internet networking so that's what they have a trained care for it. i feel the same way i just imagine the generation after me must have been even further socialize as tech increased and availability did as well, etc. so one of you might come at me for this but in all honesty, maynard is getting so bad that he's affecting the pleasure i get from tool. now i'm as big as a tool fan as any of you i'm not here to argue that. tool is my favorite band. as has been since 2002. changed my musical perception. what i loved about them was their focus on the music. cutting out the mainstream shit. being passionately artists. not just products. as the events that surrounded the release of 10,000 Days showed a much more watered down tool with magazine covers and then the photography was terrible inside as well. no longer was tool just an amazing band, they had finally succumb to the commercial financial opportunities that await a succesful artist when they turn their works into commodities. it always was a commodity but now things become a little more aimed toward the financial aspect and not the art. as that unrolled alot of tool fans got very apprehensive. i think tool has nearly disappeared from the public eye. i remember days in ashland where you could not go 2 days without seeing a tool shirt. maybe that was just there but i hear similar shit from people in other places. these proud tool supporters and appreciaters felt excluded. like th art had suffered for the dollar. it was upsetting. but then maynard starts on this puscifer shit. and everyone thinks it'll be really good because of earlier Puscifer tracks (from the Underworld soundtrack i believe?) were really good (Rev 22:20 and The Undertaker (Renholder Mix)).but even at the time i didn't quite think every song was going to be so oddly sex focused. i mean have you heard Puscfer's ""V" is for Vagina"? i mean it is so weak. i mean what's that fucking title. then that weird cartoon devil? Maybe i was wrong in expecting another tool type project. but then that clothing line shit? i mean this seems like leeching off of tool's and a perfect circle's cult status by trying to financial dupe their loyal audience. and as much as i love a perfect circle you must admit it was somewhat aimed at commercial success. i mean think of the line up? and i mean that got popular. and tons of air play. i mean come on? i wouldn't mind this financial plug maynard's been pulling on us if all the shit was good. but then this "V" for Vagina shit is released. and it is utterly fucking terrible. inexcusably so. how could you like that shit? but it's just how i felt and how i see it. maybe i'm just complaining cause things change and i'm resilient and should be more compassionate to that and just appreciate what i had. so that's what i do. i say this but what maynard's other music has done in my life is astounding. so many nights just sitting ans soaking in Lateralus and Aenima. feeling it like i'd never felt music before. amazing. and i'll never lose those feelings and memories. i don't mean to sound harsh but i miss those feelings. i associated maynard's music with those feelings. maybe that was unjust of me. either way tool will always be the greatest musical experience i've ever had. much love.