"A well pressed suit is a thing of beauty," said Allen ( Read more... )

From immediate despair comes that lacking which, like Oedipus’ father, engenders its own murderer: hope. Murder the present with the future! Distance yourself from experiencing misery's immediacy by envisioning a future full of comfort and beauty. Take comfort in the hope that you shall one day remove the veil which has separated your soul from ( Read more... )

A few days ago I was laying on my couch staring at the ceiling and thinking of something I had once thought. A record of Mahler’s 9th symphony played loudly in the corner, a particular interpretation which I hadn’t listen to in several years. I had put it on to beautify the bland chaos of my solitude, but something seemed to have muted its power ( Read more... )

The saga of trash continued ( Read more... )

This is the next chapter in my new trash novel ( Read more... )

Chapter 1 of my new book, A Ho's Honeymoon ( Read more... )

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You Eyes that cannot rest,
Rest.
Under the soft tryst of sadness and twilight
Let break the Ballooning night

Marooned upon an hour,
Marooned upon a lonely hour,
Having no strength to cast away the sun.

Have mine!
I sleep but do not rest,
My rest is yours when I dream,
For when I sleep You sleep behind my eyelids.

Lord have mercy
Christ have mercy
Lord have mercy

What I have avoided contact with in the past for fear of corrupting my idealized self imagined, has through time slowly become that which I seek to reverse the regressing strength of my dimming happiness ( Read more... )