Sunday, August 29, 2004

Siring of a Madman


"I heard screamin' and bullwhips crackin'."

She wasn't kidding when she told him it was a little sketchy in that part of town. Being witness to four separate drug deals on the same block and within the same minute was a new experience for our madman. One might argue, though, that there could have been no more appropriate halftime show for the day's activities--a forty-block odyssey through downtown(?) Vancouver by a man in desperate need of his own shameful fix.

All things considered it was a hitchless endeavor. Most folks aren't lucky enough to have a jones that'll stay quiet for such little cash. God only knows how long this one's gonna be strung up.

Saturday, August 28, 2004

Siring of a Madman


"I saw a horse. There was a man on fire. And I killed someone with a trident."

Amidst a sea of bad coffee, afloat of a raft of good pizza, illuminated by the twinkling light of Korean lettering of indeterminable quality I'm getting sleepy (and absurdly symbolic). All I can think about is that, now that I've seen the sun rise from the Atlantic and set into the Pacific, I can't wait to see it all in reverse.

Friday, August 27, 2004

...yeah, it was pretty dark but I sure as hell didn't expect to find that toe there.
(not to mention all the rest)
Should have opened that second one.
Ah, well.
Live and learn, as they say.
Live and learn.

Monday, August 23, 2004

--take me from this place of doorless keys
where frozen ground is Comfort's chosen face.
Save me from this time of timeless grace
when patience falls as limp as apathy.

Can one be maddened by one's own silence? In this newest depth of acute desperation I'm afraid I've betrayed my own soul--speaking words for wordsake, making plans actionsake, moving every single muscle to fend off atrophy from parts of me I've never even used before. What I first wrote off as paranoia I now see as wonder: simple and and terrified. I don't know what to do when there is no storm to weather and no path to tread or cut.

I'm afraid I have found myself in a place where patience and drive are tools useless as flowers to a boxer or bullets to a dancer. I'm afraid I still haven't found the strength to stand and build instead of chase my tail like so many around me. I'm afraid of both disappearing from the world into my own silence and falling in love with my own voice. I'm afraid that balance is illusion. I'm afraid that balance is the illusion that brought me here. I'm afraid I've been given too much grace to not fail.
I'm afraid that I'm not scared enough.
I'm afraid this lack of fear is to be my end.

But I don't know.