sweat
pours outta me easier than words in the attic these days. i feel like the heat keeps me from even thinking and making plans. all i know is its back to work at 5 and then maybe ill get off and itll be cool outside, cool enough to do something i actually want to do.
im looking for a place without to many health hazards. ideally it would have on site laundry, solar panels, air conditioning paid by landlord, 2 bedrooms, nearby lightrail station, with a small plot for gardening or barrels full of dirt, in midtown, for 700 dollars or less. brookie, if youre reading this you should watch the movie alex put on his livejournal not to long ago, "the tragedy of suburbia". then youll see why i wanna live down here. and why a mural is a legit reason to wanna live somewhere.
the floor is hot and the fans blow hot air
i sit in my leather chair in my underwear
its hard to think of an alternative way to make money. if i only stuck with writing (or even a little thinking) i could sell articles or try and publish a book. if i only had the energy (or the talent) i could di-myself up a cd worth some money. instead i sit online and complain about the heat, while that very heat starts to warp my guitars and drumset out of any usable condition.
will may very well end up taking over giannis as some sort of planner/manager for the next 3 months. he intends to make it a straightforward bar, thinking any spot on j street with a liquor license should in theory pay for itself. that way, fire the kitchen staff, maybe hire a pizza chef and keep 2 mini-cooks, hire a few djs and transform the spot into someplace people would want to drink. hes leaning on me for some ideas, i dont have any. just this time last week i said to brooke, "i want my own business, a little coffee shop with poetry and bands and the like, where people will want to be because it feels good to be there." maybe thats what will should do with it, turn it into a coffee shop/bar. i mean, does that exist anywhere?
im addicted to: touch, internet porn, marijuana, alchohol, astrology, reading on the light rail, a semi-positive spiritually enlightened fool self image, attention.
id like to trade those habits for brushing my teeth, stretching my hurt back, eating a balanced diet that doesnt give me heartburn, engaging in conversation with strangers, lust for education, a realistic self image, a healthy sleep pattern, and a knack for expressing myself.
sometimes i wonder what role this journal really plays in my life. every once in awhile i go back and read old posts "what was i doing at this time last year? the year before?" it can be truly embarassing, sometimes hilarious, mostly nostalgic. adrian said to me the other day during my mushroom trip, "they say, when the big change comes, everyone will lose their memory. everone will be like a baby again and well have to start over. it makes me think, what about those people who spent so much time documenting their lives? those with pictures and journals and music of their own? what role will they play?"
i should write down the url and password of my livejournal and tuck it away in my memory box, so i can find it later. i wonder if well all lose memory at the same time, or if itll happen slowly, 1 by 1.
that would make a very neat book, to bad i cant write very well.
im looking for a place without to many health hazards. ideally it would have on site laundry, solar panels, air conditioning paid by landlord, 2 bedrooms, nearby lightrail station, with a small plot for gardening or barrels full of dirt, in midtown, for 700 dollars or less. brookie, if youre reading this you should watch the movie alex put on his livejournal not to long ago, "the tragedy of suburbia". then youll see why i wanna live down here. and why a mural is a legit reason to wanna live somewhere.
the floor is hot and the fans blow hot air
i sit in my leather chair in my underwear
its hard to think of an alternative way to make money. if i only stuck with writing (or even a little thinking) i could sell articles or try and publish a book. if i only had the energy (or the talent) i could di-myself up a cd worth some money. instead i sit online and complain about the heat, while that very heat starts to warp my guitars and drumset out of any usable condition.
will may very well end up taking over giannis as some sort of planner/manager for the next 3 months. he intends to make it a straightforward bar, thinking any spot on j street with a liquor license should in theory pay for itself. that way, fire the kitchen staff, maybe hire a pizza chef and keep 2 mini-cooks, hire a few djs and transform the spot into someplace people would want to drink. hes leaning on me for some ideas, i dont have any. just this time last week i said to brooke, "i want my own business, a little coffee shop with poetry and bands and the like, where people will want to be because it feels good to be there." maybe thats what will should do with it, turn it into a coffee shop/bar. i mean, does that exist anywhere?
im addicted to: touch, internet porn, marijuana, alchohol, astrology, reading on the light rail, a semi-positive spiritually enlightened fool self image, attention.
id like to trade those habits for brushing my teeth, stretching my hurt back, eating a balanced diet that doesnt give me heartburn, engaging in conversation with strangers, lust for education, a realistic self image, a healthy sleep pattern, and a knack for expressing myself.
sometimes i wonder what role this journal really plays in my life. every once in awhile i go back and read old posts "what was i doing at this time last year? the year before?" it can be truly embarassing, sometimes hilarious, mostly nostalgic. adrian said to me the other day during my mushroom trip, "they say, when the big change comes, everyone will lose their memory. everone will be like a baby again and well have to start over. it makes me think, what about those people who spent so much time documenting their lives? those with pictures and journals and music of their own? what role will they play?"
i should write down the url and password of my livejournal and tuck it away in my memory box, so i can find it later. i wonder if well all lose memory at the same time, or if itll happen slowly, 1 by 1.
that would make a very neat book, to bad i cant write very well.