my heart as of this moment

is splitting in two

sure, animal cells always do

mitosis, you see

to repair tissue, to replace cells

this split

is a horse of a different color.

this split

is killing me.

it may be time, in today’s politicking world, to ressurrect the populist party, or at the very least, to create a more practical system.

“Hello, my name is WC like Fields, and like him I hate everyone equally. Now I don’t care if you like me, because that’s not my job. My job is to get this country to where it should be. I won’t be mean or generous. I will be practical. This country needs some practicality. I may not be a nice guy in a well-pressed suit like these fine gentlemen, but remember our first president was a farmer who prefered horses to people. I prefer many things to people, so I am perhaps more advanced in that respect.”

I need to revitalize the olden days, the good days, the mad days, the days when society wasn’t so fenced in, so global, so private and so inclusive. I don’t want to normalize the slums of the world. I don’t want to lose the Magic Kingdom and the old imperfections that sung glorious discordant notes with the American dream. I’m in a poetry class now, teaching me to love writing again, and teaching me rules. I must learn the rules and learn them well; this is the way things are. But once I learn all the rules, I want to break them all in a glorious fit of smashing china. I know I’ve lived my life for science and goals and morals, but there is a madness burning in me to travel, to go on the road and never come back. While browsing the blogs the other day, someone had asked, “What should I bring on a permanent road trip?” If only I could be so bold as to ask that question. I gave no advice, for speculating about it just reminded me of how trapped I often feel. However, I’m agoraphobic about my life, and while I want more than anything to step outside it, I don’t. I fear what perhaps agoraphobics have always feared: that if I leave, it won’t be here when I come back. I want to see the best minds of my generation….and I want to find the Neobeatniks. Maybe not so much the drugs, but the ability to go to such a place using just their minds, their thoughts, the wild cacophany most people suppress. In other words, phrased long ago by someone who thought more clearly and more sideways than I ever will, the only people for me are the mad ones.

rocking out to billy joel in my purple flannel ducky pjs.

 

I’m an ally! Happy National Coming Out Day 2008!

to the lost blogs

i can’t be the only

with a secret

a website

poetry and churned words

prose

bitterness and thoughts and blood

pieces of soul

bits of shallowness

a line of light cast out to the void

and a line of dark across our otherwise pristine search histories.

will they be discovered posthumously

or deleted!

by some bot with no music in its soul

and the work that we made

and never shared

never will be.

which is sad, because the time when these things should be

should be shared, that is

is after death.

ONLY then can these words

said in sorrow

anger

joy

out of some need that rearranges truth like flowers in a vase

for beauty’s sake

and now, when the words can’t touch us

they disappear?

 

the great bloggers of the past.

i’d be jack kerouac

on the road

but wouldn’t die at forty-seven

would just go on getting more eccentric

redefining normal redefining happiness

living free and with one goal

to experience

but then i face my bio homework

who cares about biomes, taiga

after reading jack kerouac’s sketchbook

disillusioned

and today is the day when i should feel life

an anniversary is such an arbitrary construct, however

and rules

and limits

at a time when i have so little freedom to do what i please

i have never felt less in love.

according to tradition love is caring, but i think now

love is heat, fire, passion

because it is then that you feel close and free but together

not tied [limited]

      because

you should be

         f   r   e   e

to choose and abuse and ruin your life in the most spectacular way you can think of.

i want the right to fuck things up and live with it

the right to screw life

in so many ways

to hitchhike

to work sucky dead end jobs

to fail all the ways society believes i can

to disappoint

and to enjoy every screaming wailing hysterical depressing enticing minute of it

hot as blood, filthy, raw, organic

 ……………………………..organic?

live not on the edge

not safe either

but in the gutter with the teaming masses of yesteryear

those society has nearly eradicated

and why shouldn’t they?

because it soils our new and

tidy little world

so limited

so perfect

and so given the choice,

i would ditch my morals

ditch this world with its rules

but i can’t bring anyone with me

when you go mad

you go mad alone.

i have to stay in this world

because i can’t grasp disposability

can’t bear to lose

when what i want is to lose everything and be happy

i still want to take someone with me

but that means ties

and rules

and morals

when all the pleasant sins of our age go untouched

brilliant drugs

hot sex

food that is so ungourmet and sustaining

that it will let me labor all day

and sweat -salty-

and bleed

and my blood will flow back into me like fire.

 

but that can never be.

so i’m going to go to bed on time as my parents told me

parents, those loving sources of rules and [gasp] order

   i

am going now to bed

tomorrow

    i will do homework

and work my dead end job

which has no passion

    no fire

  predictable

because i’m in the union.

 

so ordinary.

 

 

it’s a wonder

s  h  e

survives.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

i know this is silly

but

how can i fall in love without knowing

that we could work

that it could happen in the future.

how could i see myself marrying someone

who doesn’t believe in birth control?

he is so

INFURIATING

sometimes.

i could deal, since i have a medical reason

but i’m the one who will teach our kids about sex

because i’d rather my spawn have birth control and be safe

than be pregnant teens.

i don’t think there’s anything wrong with sex before marriage except that i don’t want to do it.

not because of my religion. i just think it’s the only way to be sure

that i have someone who loves me.

i won’t condemn my friends

who are having sex, and not regretting it

because why should they?

it’s normal.

i may have to modify my views

i didn’t think i’d do that for any guy

and yet…

i think things could work out

it’s possible

it’s the best i got

and this is horrible to think

but if things don’t work out

i get a second chance

after luke shows me what a boyfriend is supposed to be

i think my best friend will still be around

and amenable to suggestion.

i love andrew.

i’ve never typed it out before.

but if he doesn’t feel the same

i have a contingency plan

because i don’t let my heart get broken

without knowing how to piece it together.

it may not be healthy

it may not be right

but it’s safe.

i have been doing some thinking.

this life of mine has been so stressful lately

my best friend lying

my ex mad at him

finding out about the lies made me feel relieved.

i’m not a horrible kisser.

i’m not the world’s worst dancer.

of course, my boyfriend has told me that i’m not

 told me nice things because he’s a nice boy

but i was still ashamed.

he can always make me feel good

and truly, he is the one boy who has never made me cry.

ever.

 

i had a dream last night

this is what happens when i dream listening to the rain.

we were on the bridge

or in the hammock or something

i don’t even know

but he was leaning against me

and we were both cold and wet

and i was keeping him warm.

just holding him.

he does get cold very easily.

and i was holding him tight, and it was still raining.

and when he fell asleep in my lap i whispered, “i love you”.

but i don’t think he thinks of me in the same way i think of him

in terms of love and safety and comfort.

i’d like to know specifically what he thinks of me

and i’d like to know what he’d do if i said i loved him

and i want to know if he loves me.

this is how i count the people i love.

at night, when i pray

i know he has to be one of the ones in there.

he belongs there

at least for now.

How can I help it if I think you’re funny when you’re mad
Trying hard not to smile though I feel bad
I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can’t understand what I mean?
Well, you soon will
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of taking off my shirt

the barenaked ladies

too perfect.

when mom told me poppop was dead, i laughed uproariously

i deal with stress by laughing.

that time i got pantsed in eighth grade in gym, halfway up the ropes

i laughed.

people told me i was brave

but i wasn’t.

that’s just how i deal with things.

i don’t cry normally.

it took me a week after poppop’s funeral to cry.

i’m not a crier. i laugh

i laugh and laugh

i’m a grinner

a mad giggler

i think life is best handled with a laugh.

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