The symphony station is on in my ear hole. The piano is purring from a crack in the wall, every key clearly rings my false ribs; they’re rotating. There are twenty four ribs and thirty two teeth. Our wall textile is off center. Two of the ringlets around the blue and white planets are uneven, though symmetrical en bloc, as on a shield. My bare ( Read more... )

Earlier this evening the Benny Barth Trio played their final gig at Main Street Station. Sonoma County simply won't be the same.

I'm headed back to Isla Vista in the morning. See you then.

Before cock crow
is the loneliest hour,

when deep sleep
creeps along cheeks.

I am most forlorn
between books,

all I love,
reading dreams,

my deprived mind
dwelling, unhinged

from its millstone,
empty and alone.

Classical music fills me with an uneasiness I usually reserve for viewing photographs of our family’s dead. Playing in seven with Ben is phenomenal but I don’t care for the caravan afterwards. I think you should give up beginnings, you’re better breathless. I deleted all the other disparaging remarks from this entry. There were many but I have ( Read more... )

I’m going to Colorado ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

And the whole day
boils down to
being alone.

That’s sound not sad.

Most mornings, I feel like I’ve just surfaced into another pot of water, and I have to keep holding my breath.
Today, I guess I’m beyond, or what we had has turned dark and I don’t understand it anymore.

P.S.: Thanks for all the birthday wishes.

Yo, I’m throwing a party this evening for my twentieth birthday. You should stop by. Reunited, we could share a drink. That would be nice. I still live in the apartment on Sabado Tarde. So, see you tonight or maybe not. And if not, it would still be nice to associate with you again someday.

Earlier: the woman outside of my window lifting her rhythmic ( Read more... )