what i did was concede. i took the train up with the best of intentions and yet let the place infect me all over again. it is like kryptonite. in the end i washed my face off in the bathroom of the greek fast food place and let my mother talk me out of going into town to see the show i much anticipated / already had the ticket to / looked forward to drinking by myself at the bar during / was hesitant to undertake on my own considering recent events.
how the thoughts start:
on how everything is fleeting; either fleeting or stagnant...
on how revolutions can be measured in a context of rpms...
on how you want to call people in the middle of the night but it is the middle of the night and you would just be someone waking them with no clear intent...
on how there is a desperation in every act...
on how there are no thoughts but in things; there are no decisions but in actions...
on how it does not matter until it is translated into the tangible; on how this is so if only because we must try to express the intangible somehow...
on the contents of this world; on how we try to contain it...
on how it is hard to grasp/quell the need to share; on how it is hard to share accurately at all; on how these are inseparable and contradictory...
on how there is an anger that comes with everything mundane; on how there is a depression that comes with any kind of unearned comfort...
on work. on how work works...
[ pause to retreat ]
i need to get a job. i am... conflicted... about this. i am trying to take this seriously, which means right now mostly just making room for the idea in my head. i am trying to make a habit of reminding myself of this ever approaching need. mostly though i am reminded of other things:
"...at its extreme, dependence can result in a particular kind of slavery, where, because people have become so impoverished that they can no longer support themselves they give themselves over as servants to people who can."
this from a treatise on anthropology, which is you know what i did. and then there is this, that i wrote a long time ago in examining ideas of work; specifically the semantics of it. the conclusion:
"Perhaps it would be useful to consider the definition of work in the field of physics. Here work is defined as the transfer of energy from one physical form to another, with such a transfer usually involving force. Consider this and think of the work you do: How much energy do you put into your work? How much does your work supply you with in return? What are you forcing out of yourself when you work? What is your work forcing out of you?"
what do you do when you hate it all too much to bear?
possible answer number one: mobilize your fear. march it against all those who would take what you love from you.
at three pm, i put on my headphones and walked to campus to pretend i was a student. the israeli ambassador had come to town and was gonna talk about some old bullshit. i wasn't going to go. until the action was proposed. so i dressed nicely and sat quietly while the introducers introduced and then when he began speaking, jim straub and amanda lewis and i stood up silently and turned our backs to him. we stayed that way, watched other people gradually stand up and turn with us, for the duration of his largely tragic lies. afterwards i shook with anger, i went and got a beer. and a double shot of tequila. we talked about t.p.ing israel the next day.
at ten pm, steve and i drove to the undisclosable location for the first real meeting of the bloody gore brigade. we waited just seconds at the specified gate with our bags of supplies, as eric miller arrived right on time. we passed time with target practice until the others showed up. the game commenced. we tested the various ways we'd discussed playing, we chiseled out the rules. i got shot up pretty good, but won the last round for my team. the night was a success and you can rest assured: the preparations for the second annual gummy bear/gumdrop slingshot invitational are well underway.
can i whisper this to you tonight, computer? while it is dark and no one is looking? while everyone is out, having the fun...
i go to northern virginia to be sick.
i drive the machine the silver machine through the curves of these ground swells. nova is like sickness, makes sense in this context... these roads arteries, these cars blood, these houses growths, these people a disease. a virus. i wanna devise a virus / to bring dire straits to your environment.... there is a sureness, a strength in my movements, but only when set to rhythm, track three on the rjd2 jason laferrera stuck in my mailbox. thank you jason laferrera.
in the doctors office i sit and swing my legs no keep keep my legs still and crossed above the ground, to act like an adult. but not on purpose, not even on purpose. the nurse holds my wrist, takes my pulse, says 64. i look out the window, am distracted by the sound of this world, this place -- the highway rushes from one corner of the room to the next, the building mystifies the sounds of its cars, there is an ambiance to it, an alien ambiance. i laugh, i say it is still beating? it is still there? ha.
i received james' cd in the mail, uss horsewhip, and listen to it a lot very loudly mostly because i think it is very good. i play it for my friends -- i turn it up, smile and say it's pretty good, ay? xxxxxx also has created a new album, beautiful in many ways. i listen to it, too, an awful lot. whereas with james, i turn up the first song, with xxxxxx i turn up the last and grin ear to ear.
i told my mom i quit my job and was getting a tattoo, the first of many, and then took her to a punk rock show. submission hold, the chase and local ace in the pocket liza... submisson hold is, among other things, married with kids. they took the stage -- well, the room in the church with fluorscent lights and all -- with their two year old. he wore big yellow earphones and played a little yellow guitar; it would light up occasionally, he would rock back and forth like any good guitarist will do, and inbetween songs he would ask the lead singer aka mom, when are you gonna sing again? and she would lean down and say soon, any minute now.
this a.m. as my mom swept my of course deemed too dirty house and as i prepared to take care of business, i said are you ready for your morning dose of rock n roll? and put on that les savy fav ep where the boy screams they watered down, they watered down, they watered down the poision in this town...
names of bands i could start with you: the wounds the contagion the maker outers the daughters of the national blues
name of the recording project to be undertaken with andrew bourne: witnesses of disenfranchised grief
lyrics to songs i have written for these bands: ... no, wait. i'm not going to tell you.
the music.
all of this with no mention of the prevalence of turbonegro especially in the mornings when i wake up singing their songs, on how if you come to my house i will make you listen to papa was a rolling stone by the temptations very carefully with me, as well as the original adventures of grandmaster flash during which i'll exclaim 1981! 1983! no computers! all turntables! the first!
