Saturday, January 21, 2012


belonging to something

being a part of something more than yourself

to connect with life
to connect with another
to belong

to be one with another
to belong
as a part
of something

to feel your place
with something else

to belong
to belong
to belong…

to fit in somewhere


longing to belong

feeling that much more alive
one is to cry
to feel something that so-
to feel as though
you are where you are supposed to be

belonging somewhere-


Tuesday, January 17, 2012


It hurts too much
to think about
so I try not to-
but it is there
and that’s enough
to do its damage

(1/17/2012 appx 3:15 pm)

Sunday, January 15, 2012


The Collective Letdown.

The all that got away.

Life…to be able to laugh by the end of it.

On the brink of insanity stands philosophy.

Outdoor sporting goods stores are indoors.

Some things:
Vagina corn flake.
The bisexual peanut.
Oil lamp bloodshed.
Racist microwave.
Happy-go-lucky cereal.
Bubble gum taco.
The depressed banana sandwich.
Pink fantasy laptop.
Deodorant stick cancer death.
Beautiful white snow winter tie dye wool sweater.
Pizza carpet.
Hand woven basket rainbow smile.
A stick in the woods, alone, dancing.
Terracotta belief system.
Whitewashed murder, boiling hamburger piss mask.
Noah’s ark jet ski differential.
Ski trail slope fast Wal-Mart smiley face advertisement, yippy!
Sense? Making any. Nah. PARIS HILTON!
Old tires keep spinning - forever - some symbol, a child’s first black Barbie.
Doritos bag landfill sustenance dog poop frozen.
Mount Greylock hike fail window shade bug collision TEQUILA will make it better.
Mother bear hibernation soul.
Time chimney man boobs.

Fuck you. No, I’m not joking. Fuck you. And fuck you too. Asshole. Fuck you. Yes, and fuck you too. Thank you for being a part of this, mother fucker.

Here is one you don’t hear all that often: “You wear too much makeup for me.”

Once heard on the radio (Fly 92.3): “The prize is free Wendy’s.”

It’s easy to remember one negative, even in the midst of a thousand positive.

Last night I wore a fanny pack to a bar. (January 7, 2012 Pitcher’s Mound) Thank you very much. You can sit down now and stop applauding, I realize what a feat this is already. Thank you. I am taking a bow now.

If I’m nailed to a cross and people are there stabbing me with long sharp sticks, I will know I have made it. I will know I have done something with my life at that point.

Be who you are - no matter what it gets you, and especially no matter what it doesn’t get you.

I see sadness in your eyes, even when you smile.

The best answer to “Why?” is “Why not?”

Most of them are pretty at a distance.

There’s a lot of hate/anger to try to forget.

I hate to sound so cynical, but I must say that most of these movies aren't worth watching.

I know your mom. Just say this to random people.

Isaac Hesachia. Biblical name given to me by some guy at the bar after he came up to me and asks me if I was ever told that I look like Jesus.

An orgy is an odd concept. It must be tough to feel comfortable in that type of social circle jerk.

Let me taste your soul. I want to drown myself in it.

Nothing is guaranteed. That might be the only true guarantee.

In our society, we send the kids aged 17,18,19 go to college because they are still naive enough to go.

This says something about me: Everyone wants to play basketball to 11, 15, or 21. I want to play to 37.

Jesus looks into the mirror. He turns his head up slightly at an angle to the left, and scrunches his face up. He lifts his hand to his chin, and feels his beard. He gets out the Mach 3 razor he just bought at Wal-Mart. He lathers his face up. Jesus puts the razor to the hair on his face and scrapes it across his skin. Jesus is shiny and new. Jesus is sans beard. Jesus sans beard. I don’t know if the world is ready for this. Uh oh. What is he doing with those scissors? Oh, no! Jesus Christ! Don’t do it. He grabs a stack of his hair like he is holding uncooked spaghetti. He clamps down on a long clump and with his other hand, as close to the scalp as he can get, he begins to chop off his hair.

Nothing can tell me more than the mountains.

“Women are way more serious when they threaten to kill you than a man is.” - Some guy named Noah I went to middle school with while he was really drunk at the bar (Pitcher’s Mound).

Our biggest mistake is not realizing our second biggest one before it is too late.

A dog can be thought of as a moving doorbell with four feet.

To not have to write would be such a joy. The only thing better is to want to.

The all that got away. I realize I already wrote this, but it kept popping into my head so many times that I felt it necessary to write here again at least once so you can feel what it is like to keep getting a thought randomly over and over. The all that got away. There it is again, although that time it was a bit forced.

Some sort of metaphor: The clouds move. Do you think they moon knows that? When the clouds blot out the moon at night for a bit before moving on, do you think the moon realizes the clouds will dissipate, the clouds will float to somewhere else? The moon just might not realize that, the moon might think they clouds are there to stay.

Here’s a question you don’t hear all that often: How many shits have you taken this year so far?

Forever is always cut short by realness.

I’m still somewhat surprised that the world hasn’t run out of gynecologists.

To love and to lose. To hate and to have.

A good woman at a slight distance.

Yippity Ninja bagel!

Oh. Here is that "s" that is supposed to go in the title. Must have dropped it.