Milk...

Apparently milk is made mostly of a slow-acting protein type called cassein.

When I was a child I was forced to drink a glass of milk every single night before going to sleep. Now when I drink milk late at night, sleep eludes me.

These days I drink vitamin D milk. Growing up it was lowfat (2%). In college it was nonfat. Once in a blue cow moon it's soy.

Today I didn't put any milk in my espresso. It's actually quite nice.

The Wooden White Skeleton

Today it faces me. Today it's ridged ribs, chalk white frame, bulbous skull, today the skeleton faces me. Usually it peers outward, out the window towards busy Stark St. and I can only catch its eye in the reflection of the glass. Today it's as though it signals to me, one arm frozen in upright salute or condemnation. I think the former. But now that I've noticed I can't ignore it.

The coffee sits in my throat...

I have these two couches.

One is a cool faux leather with a big back and a decent love-seat with plush armrests. Earlier today I sat and watched a man across the street drill into a 4 x 4, constructing.

My other couch dominates my room. At one time it was L-shaped. I know because it has that slant-back end where it would turn the corner and connect with the other piece. Somehow, even though it doesn't have it's missing piece, I still have all of its pillows. So many that they are stacked double high, creeping up my wall like a tan, billowy fungus.

As I sat on my couches today I felt alone. So much room to sit.

I feel like de/construction surrounds me...

There's a steamroller in the parking lot of my apartment complex. The coffee shop is roasting with a general shaking and tumble of din. Even Halfway House across the street blasted engine noise throughout the neighborhood with their gas lawn mower from some by-gone era. Is it my ears that are sensitive today or something deeper inside me?

Hippie Zombie Jesus riding a surfboard with a rose in his mouth...

yeah, that's what's on my shirt. Along with Gomez from the Addams' family post-fame holding torches outright while he bellows out a visceral howl, cruising along on their tandem surf board, light blue ripples of water below them.

Dang notha double...

Increase shows the growth of fullness without artifices... Increase meaning another double. I thought I had finished the overworking. Thought it would give me a chance to clean up my mind and body, get the spirit back in line. Now I realize that I have to work at that too. Double today, no double tomorrow - but still work.

A small lake over an abyss...

Is it ennui this morning? I'm not so sure. My mind won't allow sleep but it also won't allow a happiness. Similar actually to the day outside, with its moments of mild sunshine that slip back into gray moments after they've arrived.
No matter.

For Jobs No Money....

Small keys to everyday existence like a fat nickel or thin dime
Hide quarters in exchange for peace and strife of mind
Peace this peace that
Every time someone wants a piece I have to grab my piece
3000 Andres and not a drop to drink
Between here and reality you fill the blank
Is it your hands or others that hand you your thanks
Be to all mind matters that matter - mine
I and I with eyes of planets in pairs and duos
hearts with near eclipses and collisions
Monica

To apologize...

I'm clinging, clinging as in a fish in a net, or an animal trapped in a hole, to the gnarled roots and strings that bind me. Fire burns brightest when it first flares up. I apologize and in doing so admitted guilt. The second fire blew into my face. Work is less about my profession and more about my ego.

Success In Encounters...

Hexagram 47 - K'un - Exhaustion/Oppression

The love of my life has spurned me once again. Of an age where I no longer can joke about my intentions, I realize that I can't fight it, and I respond with a white flag that hopefully wasn't too negative. I thought of defiance - in multiple ways. No, fuck no, I'm not going to let you go. Then, Oh, why? It hurts so much! But no, the classic, because I love her I have to let her go scenario. Lame how cliche life is.

La Cocaina...

Went to Grain and Gristle with my friends on Saturday night before a little hop skip and a jump down to Mississippi studios to see Tennis. The beautiful and bored were out in droves and I found myself dancing alone to "Marathon" and hooting into the void after songs while the disinterested checked each other out. There was a moment of bliss followed by a long walk home.

To Change A Life...

Dreaming of shattered wooden planks
but glide glide glide
there's a softness today in the air
with the mist of winter and the early week

The sun only shines in my skin...

When all is built to give you happiness
what does it mean when you can't smile?

When simple maya knows the space between electrons
how can you ever close doors?

Frozen Berries for Breakfast

frozen berries for breakfast
they shimmer with crystals
bulbous in shape like the
frozen broccoli for dinner

sleeping music for reveille
agreeing for peace
and mercy in surrender like
broken guitar-playing fingers

flat white landscape for travel
a mirage of the oasis
intangible in shadow like
yesterday and tomorrow

frozen berries for breakfast
they shimmer with crystals

________________________________

A light crackle of rain against the glass...

The morning was amazing in quiet. My neighbors even noticed and chose not to physically express their loves for each other directly above my head and I was allowed to lay there and fall in and out of consciousness. Different dreams about different things, including one dream of strange haunting. It wasn't altogether unpleasant either, though the world I embodied clearly had intention of grasping me in some fashion.

The Heater is Dead

Cold like a womb
the plush carpet stiff
under foot naked
tripping forward into
brilliant missiles

_______________________________


Car in the shop so working to get a ride from a co-worker. Should happen, get out of the shell apartment with its dripping windows of condescension. Yeah, that's what I said. But then when I'm not getting what I want done, everything challenges me.

Fire to Ice to the Floor of the Huckleberry Inn

Because pizza demands the skin of its labor
the burn of the taste lingers in the apartment
while my arm flies 5000 feet in the year

The frozen earth demands immediate respect
a landing less than expected but it should have been
and the arm tears tears tears away

A moment passed twice
and linger in single digits
the cafe with gravy and skin
warmth of a burn frozen to folds
rolled and curled on the floor
of the Huckleberry inn