I dreamt that we were poolside in some sort of tropical resort, sitting a few chairs apart from one another. We weren't saying anything but she knew I was there. Then some chiseled idiot stranger walks up to her and asks her to put his sunscreen on him and and she gets up, walks over to him, and starts rubbing it on his back. And in the dream all I could do was be brokenhearted and jealous about her wanting someone other than me, and about him getting to feel her hands on his skin. To see and think and know her tender touch on another man was like having the whole ocean in my eyes.

---

"Do you come
together ever with him?
Is he dark enough,
enough to see your light?
Do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
Is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
Does he drive you wild
or just mildly free?"

I can hear my roommates watching Silver Linings Playbook in the living room and it's just, it's... not good. I don't want to hear it and I don't want to think about it. The last thing I need is a bullshit movie about depressed people. Not to mention Katniss is in it. I'm feeling very anxious and alone right now.

Yesterday the soccer player Lionel Messi broke another record. He scored 3 goals (with the phenomenal help of his teammate Neymar) and those 3 goals have made him the highest goalscorer in the history of the Spanish league, where he plays for FC Barcelona. I thoroughly enjoyed watching it happen. It's goals like these that convince me sport can be beautiful.

Lionel Messi's historic hat trick

I just thought of a great idea for a book that could be a sequel to Dr. Seuss's Oh, The Places You'll Go!

It would be a sex-ed book called Oh, The Places You'll Come!

the S in sky

Can't sleep.

Today/yesterday has been strange. There was a giant "S" in the clouds, and I watched it linger there for long, hovering over the ocean. And me.

Later in the day I spoke with a woman on the phone, someone I hadn't hear speak before. I nearly fainted at her first words. She sounded so exactly like the S i know, i listened to her for five minutes with my head and my heart confused and flooding with phone call memories. It felt like it was a cruel elaborate prank from the universe. Honestly, the voices and speech pattern, the breathing, the pauses, were so similar i almost asked if it was her, but i almost didn't want a confirmation that it wasn't her. I wanted to pretend it was.

A storm just came through. A brief one but the wind was blowing hard and the rain falling heavy. I heard a strange sound at the window (it hasn't stormed here in ages) and went to see what it was. The trees were flailing and the water was falling in a lovely weeping.

---

I first noticed the "S" in the sky when I was listening to Nick Drake. A song called "Horn" came on as I was surveying the clouds and it was a brief mystical moment the way everything clicked. It was a moment I wanted to share, to anyone and someone who might be getting cold this winter so I decided to make a video, as a sort of early Christmas present. If you find yourself lost in winter, hopefully this brief view can provide you or any beach baby some warmth. You can pretend you're on the beach with me and that the mystical moment was shared and not just half-experienced. The two songs that play are "Horn" and "Know" from Nick Drake's album Pink Moon. I know the quality is not great but gimme a break it was done on probably the oldest digital camera still working today. You can see the lower half of the "S" sitting in the sky (full picture at the bottom of the page).

I ask you now and i shall forever wonder: what good is a sky without S?

---

"Time has told me
you're a rare, rare find.
A troubled cure
for a troubled mind.

And time has told me
not to ask for more.
For some day our ocean
will find it's shore."

Great Moments In 20th Century Music

My ipod was at it again this morning, hitting me with a heavy dose of the blues.

First in the form of "Brass Buttons" by Gram Parsons and then "Bad Liver And A Broken Heart" by Tom Waits.

On the plus side... well, I'll think of something.

"It was a dream much too real
to be leaned against too long.
All the time, I think she knew.
Her words still dance inside my head,
her comb still lies beside my bed.
And the sun comes up without her.
It just doesn't know she's gone."

"I wish you'da known her,
we were quite a pair.
She was sharp as a razor
and soft as a prayer."

p.p.s.

Political post script:

Watched Jon Stewart be interviewed by David Letterman, and was admiring how articulate and affable he is even when devoid of his comedic script/venue on The Daily Show.

David asked him what he had learned from spending several months in the Mid East (Jordan and Egypt) filming his movie. Jon said, "It's not even so much that I learned anything in so much as that it reinforced my belief that so much of the dialogue between countries occurs at a governmental level that is so one-dimensional, and that when you get into the weeds with the individuals in countries and the nuance, it's... you realize that there is a common cause in a way that you might not have thought possible. With these countries that we don't know that much about and we hear very stereotypical and very prejudicial things about... A lot of times in these countries, in that part of the world, they're sort of trapped between kind of authoritarianism and extremism. But the majority of people, the overwhelming majority of people, just want to carve out a little space for expression."

I hope when I die that people say I was articulate. Affable isn't bad either.

Bill Maher conducted a good interview with Rand Paul on his HBO program the other day. They discussed voters' rights, immigration reform, the war on drugs and the U.S.'s failing prison and foreign policies. The only thing I didn't like was Bill failed to press the issue of denouncing the Citizens United stance that "corporations are people". Since Paul is a registered Republican I'm sure he wouldn't directly denounce it, and he did give a cohesive, thoughtful response when questioned about the issue, but if a Republican said point-blank that it's a ridiculous position to agree with, that would be much more refreshing.

At the moment, I'd still rather see the Independent socialist Bernie Sanders or Massachusetts democrat Elizabeth Warren in the white house come 2016. Or of course that handsome devil Gavin Newsom from San Francisco, but he's probably a long way off from running. I'll bet he does one day, though. Sanders and Warren should run as partners, that'd be the political shit.

the robotic uprising has begun

I think our robotic overlords from the future have decided to start destroying humanity with me. They're going to take out the weak ones first, with sad music. I think this because my ipod was utterly against me this morning. First it played "Secret Garden" by Bruce Springsteen, then it played "Humble Me" by Norah Jones.

Clearly it's out to get me.

---

"She'll let you in her mouth,

if the words you say are right.

If you pay the price

she'll let you deep inside."

Is that why I talk so much? I miss her kiss.

I paid, I paid! Where's that damned receipt?!

"Then she'll look at you and smile

and her eyes will say

she's got a secret garden,

where everything you want

where everything you need

will always stay

a million miles away."

Why does it have to be so many miles away, Bruce.

"What do you say

when it's all gone away.

Baby I didn't mean to hurt you.

Truth spoke in whispers

will tear you apart

no matter how hard you resist it.

It never rains when you want it to."

Oh Norah. What do you say?

My niece is slowly (and quickly) approaching that first step toward womanhood. Well, a step anyway. I don't know all the exact steps. I decided today that it was an appropriate time to introduce her to Damien Rice. Don't worry, I kept her away from the rather complex adult material that pervades a handful of his tracks.

I showed her the songs "I Don't Want To Change You", "Lonely Soldier" and "Colour Me In". Then it turns out my mother was having a bad day so I told my niece to text her and say that she loved her, to cheer my mother up. Here is part of our conversation:

Me: Did you text nana?
Niece: Yes
Me: High five. That's teamwork! I love you, by the way. You're in my top five humans. :P
Niece: I love you too. And wow that's a privilege lol... Who are the other four
Me: good question. and way to go spelling "privilege" correctly. That word gets butchered a lot. But the story of my favorite people is long and sometimes sad so I'm not ready to tell you all five yet. Just know that you and Rocco are on that shortlist. Also, I love everyone.
Niece: Alright. Go Rocco!
Me: One of my other favorite people went as Katniss for halloween. I'm sure if you ever met her you'd love her.
Niece: Anyone who is Katniss is a friend of mine.

S and R are on that list. But I can't tell my niece about them yet. It'll be many more years. She's pretty sensitive and it would break her heart to hear about how i lost the love of my life.

Fucked up again, as usual. Emailed her when I shouldn't have. I wanted to post a picture of me in my halloween costume next to a picture of she in hers, then I looked at the two photos side by side. I look like an idiot next to her gorgeous self. Should see that it would never work. But can't see what she ever (supposedly) saw in me. Or maybe I do see it and that's what I miss. The eyes. Her eyes. They're like undiscovered treasure (sorry for the pirate reference). Sigh.

One of life's regrets is that I never got a photograph of us together. But I never thought I'd need one. I thought that in time all my life would be one beautiful momentary photograph after another, so fantastical that no mere digital capture could contain it.

Hope is a pretty thing. Delicate, like most beauty.

[Editor's note] Despite the fact that she's out of my league, we look awesome together. She's a dream I'll chase for the rest of my insignificant life.

The name I use in the depression chat room I sometimes visit is "messy", cause I'm a fan of the Argentinean soccer player Lionel Messi and word play, and I had a nice conversation with a woman named layeredpaper.

layeredpaper: we talked about circle stories, the way that a lot of children's books are written like that. like "if you give a mouse a cookie"
messy: if you give a mouse a cookie.... jesus. sad memories.
layeredpaper: yeah, i know that book sort of bites a bit but when you teach
messy: "if you give a mouse a cookie" has very personal connotations for me.
layeredpaper: well i am just bringing up all your life references somehow, with james joyce and "give a mouse a cookie"... sorry if i bum you out inadvertantly. i need to go because my senile old dog is needing something. he's got dog dementia and thinks he needs a million things at 2 am ish almost every night. so i take him outside...and i can't let him go out there alone because he gets lost in the fenced back yard :(
messy: i was with a woman once, a woman i truly loved. and she had a daughter whom i also loved. her little daughter and i used to read "if you give a mouse a cookie" together.
layeredpaper: oh :( that must be hard if you're not with her any more
messy: dumb dog. why is he following you? :P annie reference
layeredpaper: reading to a child is one of the greater gifts in life in my opinion
messy: agreed. have a good night.

In the house where I live, there is a fireplace. The owners have enjoyed using it a lot as the weather has turned crisp.

I really love fireplaces, but they are also very sad to me. I see so much in the flames. Very very sad.

Great Moments In 21st Century Music

Amazing that she smiles throughout this song, because it's written about her significant other who died from an accidental overdose. I think you can see she really loved him because she accepted his rather obvious faults and is able to remember him fondly rather than be angry at him for disappearing... "I'd do it all again" is a nice sentiment. "My heart's an open door/You got all you came for."

"I'd Do It All Again" – Corinne Bailey Rae

"All these useless dreams of living..."

Damn.

Sigh.

Three out of the last four times I've gone inside a convenience store, Sam Smith has been on the radio. It happened again last night.

Also, I got a short term contracted job with the United States Postal Service that expires 01/09/2015. 109.

I'm on my way to becoming Charles Bukowski, except for never getting laid and never getting published, but sometimes just as drunk.

---

"'Every time I see you you have a drink in your hand. You call that protecting yourself?'
'It's the best way I know. Without drink I would have long ago cut my god-damned throat.'
'That's bullshit.'
'Nothing's bullshit that works. The Pershing Square preachers have their God, I have the blood of my god!'
I raised my glass and drained it.
'You're just hiding from reality,' Becker said.
'Why not?'
'You'll never be a writer if you hide from reality.'
'What are you talking about? That's what writers do!'"

– Bukowski

Great Moments In 21st Century Texting

Sometimes I text my mother lyrics from a song and pretend that it is stuff that is actually happening in my life. She fell for one today that was pretty awesome. I had no idea that she'd actually buy it.

Me: Did I tell you what happened on monday?
Mom: No...what happened?
Me: I was just out Monday, ran into a friend down the street where i live
Mom: exciting...
Me: sad things begin, i could feel from within. i could tell from the message he had to give. about a buddy of mine who ran out of time. somebody past knew him shot across the room, and now the man no longer lives. too bad about him. too sad about him.
Mom: Your friend was shot and killed?
Me: Don't get me wrong, the man is gone but it's a wonder he lived this long. but there can't be no fun being shot with a handgun. sad bloody mess. shot all up in his chest.
Mom: that's terrible.
Me: up in the city they called him boss jack. but down home he was an alley cat.
Mom: wait a minute...
Me: hahahahaha
Mom: You dork! I was feeling bad about your friend... you suck.
Me: that was the best one so far. it's a curtis mayfield song called "billy jack".
Mom: yeah, yeah.

---

Also, "Billy Jack" by Curtis Mayfield is one of the grooviest tracks I've ever had the pleasure to hear, and I highly recommend checking it out. First time I ever heard it was a couple years ago when I went to First Avenue in Minneapolis to see Okkervil River in concert. Prior to the show "Billy Jack" came on the sound system and I was so into it I asked the sound guy what the song was. I had two Curtis Mayfield albums already but I hadn't heard that song before or the album it is on, which it turns out is a fantastic album. Here is a link if you want to hear it:

"Billy Jack" – Curtis Mayfield

Well, so far I've survived the emotional onslaught that is the music of Damien Rice. I really think the new album is exquisite, I just wish I had my dear friend to talk about and listen to it with. Only five of its eight songs made me cry, so that's a win for me, right? I was crying at the library, which thankfully wasn't heavily populated. Then I went to the beach to listen again as the sun set. I think my favorite song on the album is "Colour Me In". "The Greatest Bastard" doesn't even count, cause even though I love it I can barely listen to that song. It's too much like a cheese grater grinding on my heart. When I was listening to "The Greatest Bastard" I was staring into the water off the pier, and the sunlight was playing on the wave crests like a bright light bulb on silver tinsel. That old familiar warm blanket feeling of just falling into the blue green water and floating away fell over me.

Anyway. Here are some photos I took coupled with some of my favorite lyrics from the day's music.

"We learned that lovers love to sing
and that losers love to cling. Didn't we?"

"So don't give me love with an old book of rules,
that kind of love's just for fools.
And I'm over it."

"You could be my favorite place I've ever been.
I got lost in your willingness to dream within the dream.
You could be my favorite faded fantasy.
I have hung my happiness on what it all could be."

"I tried to repress it, then I carried it's crown.
I reached out to undress it, and love let me down.
So I tried to erase it, but the ink bled right through.
Almost drove myself crazy when these words led to you."

"It takes a lot to breathe, to touch, to feel.
The slow reveal of what another body needs."

Well, I just downloaded the new Damien Rice album. About to give it a listen.

Wish me luck, cruel world!

"You could be my favorite taste to touch my tongue.
I know someone who could serve me love but it wouldn't fill me up.
You could have my favorite face and favorite name,
I know someone who could play the part but it wouldn't be the same.
No it wouldn't be the same..."

Good god, here we go.

fun physics fact of the day

A light-year is often mistaken for a unit of time, when in fact it is a measure of distance. A light-year is approximately six trillion miles.

---

When I was eighteen years old I was accepted into the University of Iowa as a double major in physics and philosophy. I abandoned my enrollment because, while I met all other criteria, my ACT score was one point shy of the requirement for qualification for a full-ride scholarship open to freshman physics majors. I also was enjoying my job working with kids, reading physics and philosophy books in my free time. Education should be free.

Anyway. One of my soccer teammates is an older gentleman from Germany named Beren. He has a master's degree in physics and is a professor/researcher of nanotechnology. He's also a better soccer player than me, but he's from Germany for God's sakes, so obviously. I also have a dear friend named Stephen who has a PhD in philosophy and who is now getting a master's degree in German Studies at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY. He and Gina are trying to get me to visit but I don't have the means at the moment.

I'm sure that when I die I won't lament the missed opportunities for a college degree, for money unearned, for success unachieved. Love is all that matters. Life, without love, is just a series of meaningless hieroglyphics that aren't even worth translating.

Bought new sheets today. But they're not pink.

---

One of my favorite Third Eye Blind lyrics:

"Nothing much matters to me so I don't see why
I should hold so tightly to a memory that I can't speak of.
I think about it nightly how you opened up your life for me.
Why are you still lonely?
Though I'm not the type who begs,
I'm thinking how you'd open up your legs.
And I'm farther from you every day."

This song has been haunting my weekend:

"Find The River" – R.E.M.

I've had this poem stuck in my head all day, but I can't remember where I read it or who the author is. Maybe you can help me. Here's what I can remember of the words:

"I just want to marry the pussy.
I just want to marry the pussy.
I just want to marry the pussy.
Wanna go down on my knees
and ask that pussy to marry me."

... It was either Alfred Lord Tennyson or R. Kelly.

---

Okay that was a joke. That song was not in my head all day. Today I mostly listened to 2Pac and Björk.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine texted me because she was listening to "Nice & Slow" by Usher and it made her think of me. I asked her, "At what point in my life should I start to worry that women only think of me when they hear Usher or R. Kelly?" She said, "You should be worried already."

That reminds me of one time when I was sat at a bus stop listening to a new Usher album, waiting for S to come pick me up. We went to the park and held hands... sigh. I just want to marry the hand hold.

For the record, even I find Kelly's song "Marry The Pussy" somewhat disturbing. I'd love to get Tennyson's opinion, though.

Great Moments In 21st Century Television

I'm at the La Jolla library, next to the Bs in fiction. Apparently, Glenn Beck is a published novelist. That sort of makes me want to quit writing altogether.

---

For the purposes of the following joke, let me clarify a few things. This quotation is from the first episode of Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle called "Toilet Books", wherein comedian Stewart Lee talks about the history of literature and publishing and the condition the business/profession is in today. Lee derisively reads from radio DJ Chris Moyles's second volume of autobiography, which the author himself states is about "nothing" and is just a "toilet book" full of pointless anecdotes. Lee also makes fun of comedian Jeremy Clarkson, the host of the popular BBC program Top Gear, because Clarkson is a reactionary figure who is often making sexist, racist or otherwise bigoted remarks, yet still has like twenty books published. Enjoy.

"Apparently the eighteenth century polymath Thomas Young was the last person to have read all the books published in his lifetime. That means he would've read all the Shakespeare and all the Greek and Roman classics, and all the theology and all the philosophy and all the science. But the same man today, a man who had read all the books published today, would've had to have read all Dan Brown's novels, two volumes of Chris Moyles autobiography, The World According To Clarkson by Jeremy Clarkson, The World According To Clarkson Two by Jeremy Clarkson, The World According To Clarkson Three by Jeremy Clarkson... His mind would be awash with bad metaphors and unsustainable reactionary opinion, and one long anecdote about the time Comedy Dave put pound coins in the urinal. In short, the man who had read everything published today would be more stupid than a man who had read nothing."

Great Moments In 21st Century Film

In honor of yesterday's elections that nobody knew about, here's a nice little dialogue from the end of Killing Me Softly:

Two men sitting at a bar overhear President Obama on TV saying, "We affirm that fundamental truth, that out of many we are one."
Man #1: "You hear that line? Line's for you."
Man #2: "Don't make me laugh. We're one people? It's a myth, created by Thomas Jefferson."
Man #1: "Oh now you're going to have a go at Jefferson, huh?"
Man #2: "My friend, Jefferson's an American saint. Because he wrote the words 'All men are created equal,' words he clearly didn't believe since he allowed his own children to live in slavery. He was a rich wine-snob who was sick of paying taxes to the Brits, so yeah he wrote some lovely words and aroused the rabble and they went out and died for those words while he sat back and drank his wine and fucked his slave girl. This guy wants to tell me we're living in a community? Don't make me laugh. I'm living in America, and in America you're on your own. America's not a country, it's just a business. Now fucking pay me."

the sleep of the damned

When I go to bed, I lay on my side with my arms crossed around myself. I'm tired of holding myself. I wake up every two hours, every night, look into the darkness and see nothing looking back.

---

This morning I dreamt many things, but in the final scenes of my dream I sat at the bottom of a staircase watching TV. Next to me was a computer. Earlier in the dream a person I knew in my childhood was sitting at the computer. But this time, it was her. I looked over at the computer and saw her on it and at first I didn't believe it. I got up and walked around the computer to see if it was really her. She didn't look at me, she just stared at the screen with a faint smile. I felt lucky to be close to her, even if she didn't notice me, so I sat back down by the stairs. I gave her a goofy stare and she noticed me. I saw her eyes come around the side of the computer screen, which was glowing on her face, lighting her up, and she laughed and smiled at me. Then she went back to the computer. I kept doing it though, and her eyes kept making contact with mine and she would smile and laugh her lovely laugh. We were being silly together. Then when she wasn't looking at me, I just looked at her longingly, as if from a great distance. I looked at her and appreciated her beauty. In the dream I wondered what she would do if I leaned over and kissed her, but I decided that she would back away and I didn't want that humiliation. So I just kept making her laugh with my silly glances, doomed to be content in her peripheral view, I suppose.

Then the next thing I know I'm running in slow motion on a high, steep cliff above the rocky ocean. I knew that if I slipped on the gravel I would fall over the side. The gravel I was running on was spotted with all these clear puddles. I heard an ambulance next to me and I turned to see it pass. I was very nervous about taking the wrong step. I looked down at a puddle in front of me and there was a big puffed up fish (I'm certain it was supposed to be a bananafish) floating in the water. I misstepped and went plunging (still in slow motion) down the side of the cliff, watching the rock travel by me. As I fell I was thinking, "This must be a dream, I have to wake up before I hit the water," but I hit the water. I guess maybe it didn't hurt (I can't remember) because it was in slow motion but I remember an oxygen mask being placed on me and then I don't remember anything else.

Sleep can be a real bastard, sometimes.

Plus, why do they call it dreaming? I mean, if it was really my dream it would have a lot more picnics, jokes, autumn leaves, kisses, rain, sex, hand-holding, ear-nibbling, laughter, spooning, listening, sharing, deep eye-locks... all that good stuff.

Come on, brain. Go figure out how to dream and then get back to me.

---

"Crawl into my ambulance, your pulse is getting weak.

Reveal yourself all now to me girl, while you've got the strength to speak.

Cause they're waiting for you at Bellevue with their oxygen masks.

But I could give it all to you now, if only you would ask.

Don't call for your surgeon, even he says it's too late.

It's not your lungs this time, it's your heart that holds your fate." - Springsteen

Here's the mesmeric, poetic song that has been my companion today:

"The future here is shattered
your voice is thin as rain
Unholy broken shadows
you know you'll never tame

This winter lake is frozen
cold fantasy turned on its side
The screw just keeps on turning
but it's guilt makes you decide

That you can't cry
Although you've tried
Run and hide
But don't you cry

The clocks have stopped their ticking
time grips you in its vice
These hands have always claimed you
marooned here in midnight

Poets have their studies
Babies have their might
Just visions from the hilltop
or a train journey late at night

But you can't cry
Although you've tried
Run and hide
But don't you cry

Faces haunt the mirror
dark voices close behind
They're nothing to the horror
of the loneliness you hide

Your morning views its headstone
its cruelty knows no bounds
A mist enshrouds tomorrow
Today the hammer pounds

But you can't cry
Although you've tried
Run and hide
But don't you cry

Got no dreams to speak of
Hope's teeth they start to bite
Your heart of molten ashes
its sparks shower you in spite

You envy all the others
the ones who own their eyes
Serenity is a planet
on which you can't reside

Your lover's ghostly memory
haunts you all your days
His ship sails bold horizons
You stalk him in its wake

But you can't cry
Although you've tried
Run and hide
from what's inside
Oh you can't cry
Although you've tried
Run and hide
But don't you cry

He knows that she's so sad
She knows the clocks don't turn back
He knows that she's so sad
She knows the clocks don't turn back"

"Don't You Cry" – Richard Hawley

---

Sigh. I'm not ready to face another new month.