Putting a face to a thought

I wrote some poetry while standing on a subway car yesterday. I haven't written on public transportation since the great Chicago Winter Extravaganza of 2008. This isn't really about yesterday, or Chicago, but this thing that happens when I write poetry.

I put it up here sometimes, poetry, like every six months or so. It isn't that I don't like it, or I don't know if it is good, I just feel weird about the idea of putting poetry up on a blog when I'm not a poet.

I mean, I guess I am a poet, from writing lyrics for the bands and what not. But it is strange. I think I figured out what it is.

The subject.

I EXCLUSIVELY write poetry about women. Every single one. For probably the last ten years. Women. Loving them, hating them, missing them, wanting them, thinking about them, kissing them and leaving them. And most of the time is about this combination of women I know, like a frankensteinian (made that one up) monster of ideas and loves and perfect character traits.

Hmmmmmm.

I guess I'll write another one. I'll put it up tomorrow, for Earth Day.

days bleeding together

Folding/rolling burritos fills my days. I spend less time with my friends. I don't stay at their houses long enough, or try hard enough, or even show up enough. I go to work while roommates sit on the couch and come home and they are still there. I smell like burritos. I feel like a burrito. I don't hate my job. I don't yell at anyone or punch boxes of frozen fries. I'm just there all of the time. I can't find time to write, I can't find time to post blogs, I can't find time to write songs. I can't give all the time stephanie wants from me or all the time I want to give to her. I don't cook. I don't read. I don't take baths. I don't walk anywhere. I don't have any money. I get on the wagon. I fall off the wagon. Everyday is a blur, but not like it used to be, when I would work 5 hours, make 20 hours worth of money, and have a great time doing it. Now I work 11 hours, make 11 (or less) hours worth of money, and don't know where it is or where it goes. I'm on my break from work right now. I'll go back in 20 minutes. More burritos. More tacos. More people not saying please. More headaches. More calculated breathing. More. More. More.

I want less. Thank you.


Tonight: Bill's birthday.

trees get chopped down

I went to a sake bomb party one time. It was at this apartment in Northridge. There was a keg gong, and chopsticks, and pot stickers, and Sapporo and sake. It was a wonderful evening. I bring this up because I was at that apartment a couple of days ago.

Congratulations to my good friends Adam Buus and Justin Hickman for graduating from CSUN.

I spent the day with these gents on Wednesday and it was good times like always. I just wanted to give them a hello.

Let the preparation for the blogger party begin.

Ready, Set, Go!