list of Authors to remember:

Henry Miller, Anaïs Nin, Jacques Prévert, Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs, Gregory Corso, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, James Baldwin and Richard Wright.

by the river in a little tent..." Man, Sam Cooke can really belt, or something. With each day that passes I grow a grey hair or two, maybe five, and my Ipod gets just a little bit more full. The sonority of the city changes every day, just like brother Cooke says "change gonna come". Uxoriousness is no longer of any interest to me; I've come to ( Read more... )

Isn't it strange how you think, and think often, that the friends you keep will keep tabs on you at some point in time and then it proves totally false? I mean it's as if you play no role in their life and they can just drop you at any point. I guess what I've been doing is waiting for that call to say "Hey! Let's do something, let's get together ( Read more... )

I miss her so bad I could puke.

I haven't learned to live without your spark yet. Any of your sparks. I don't really have the kind of manual stored in my skull to work and get my way through this; I mean, I know I will. It's just a mildly depressing existence for the time being but I guess it's necessary ( Read more... )

Sarah, you shall be now, and forever more, Lydia.

Nameless your name's now Chelsea.

Congratulations, 11. You've made your way into my most intense endeavor, ever.

You know who you are. Way to make me feel like a total tool. Found you somewhere. Found your shit talking, run of the mill, self-centered diatribes somewhere you thought they'd be safe ( Read more... )

Times don't change people; people change people. The United States is still the bigoted, racist, old fiend that it has always been, you know? I guess I have one question left for my political ideals: is it everyone's fight to push for civil rights and all that jazz or is it the fight of the oppressed groups? If it's everyone's fight then I guess I' ( Read more... )

Misery fucking loves me ( Read more... )

No more fire,
no more hate,
no more burning in my belly
these days.

Grifting across the land
the grass is free,
chainless, gamble-gone.

Stealing varying levels of
hope,
or some shit,
is the only way
to carry on; though,
these days carrying on

not essential,

be rid of it.