Hey all, sorry I’ve been away for a while, but it was for a good reason! I’ve been in the studio with my band, SUBCULTURE, and we are proud to announce that our debut EP is ready for your listening pleasure! Check it out above!
Drank a can of coke
right before bed. I drank
that can of coke and now
the sugar rush is in my head.
I’ll be awake for a bit longer, but
I’ll be shot all day tomorrow. It’s ok.
People are used to me
Scatter-brained. It’s good to be known
as scatter-brained. Sometimes,
you get to be brilliant–thoughts like flashes–
and all other times:
you’re forgiven. It’s a miracle one minute,
and That’s just the way he is the next..
It’s good. I like it.
Question about happiness:
like, for starters, what is it?
Probably a thing that’s
only enjoyed in the moment.
I can’t really say it can be prolonged,
or a constant. I can’t really say
you can look forward to it. I can’t
say that it’s been there–
time ever moves forward
and the means by which we measure things
are always changing.
I know it’s there, though,
because I’m confident and go-lucky,
and a bit quirky, so my friends say.
I know it’s there because
I’ve never failed to wish for it.
I imagine it. I pray for it.
I want it to be my life and I want
to give it freely.
A wonderful thing, yes–
I’m not sure, though, if all of us, together,
allow for it to be an open, warm, and
achievable thing. Some people look in the mirror
and see nothing. Nothing:
life as a thing that’s there, unavoidable and
unmiraculous. I wonder what we’re doing
that lets this happen. I don’t know–it’s all
scary answers. There’s only me I can contemplate
so I only think about me. Only I can make me happy.
Maybe that’s the answer and the question.
On the beach in the sand
I grappled with the rush to hold your hand
but questions—oh those questions–
of unknown futures and reactions
held me back. So I turned to watch the sun
hide behind the clouds, and then the chill
had us walking back to your car.
Then we left.
I went home to think and think and think—
Oh, your eyes, for once in my life
had me stopped, had me stopped, had me stopped.
Oh, what a moment that it was–
stuck on rewind while the tape in the back’s fast-forwarding.
Life’s such a blur, but in my mind I’ve paused on your eyes–
on your eyes, on your eyes, on your eyes.
I know how hard it is to break down walls–
I haven’t been the bravest man around, but
I did it anyway. You sort of say, “Enough’s
enough.” Something snaps in place.
You see how people actually look at one another
and it makes you sad–yeah, it breaks my heart–
so skeptical, so scared, so worried, so terrified.
“Don’t go outside at night.”
“Try to avoid that neighborhood.
We can’t help them there. They’re gone.”
We’ve gone and done made them gone.
Hm. Feeling trapped, feeling isolated, feeling probably
every claustrophobic anxiety-inducing thing.
We scream and yell, it’s–it’s what you do
when the brain doesn’t know how to–oh–
the soul’s in pain.
We are unable to share at that moment. We’re
walkin all alone. It’s miserable.
But that moment is a moment–
it doesn’t need to be the definition.
It makes me so sad, and yeah:
it’ll break your heart–especially
when I desperately try to be a warm person, singing
“Please, come here. Come here–
come here and walk with me.
Let’s wander ‘til we find a place–
let’s wander ‘til we find a place
We’ll see our fears and know
what scares our happiness the most.
I’m walking down the street and
the wind blows. Whenever the wind blows
I’m sent off to wonder–
the wooshes and the woos separate me from all of you.
I told my friend that and he asked me,
“What sign are you?” I said,
“Libra.” He said, “Well, then,
that’s an air sign–wind is your element, man.”
Well, man: there you have it. I am air.
I blow through the even streets
and the avenues named after states;
I crisscross along the lives
of lives being lived out in this city–
Nah, man. That’s still too touchy.
I disappear when the wind blows!
The gift of horrible hearing: the wooshes and woos
are natural static in my ears.
Someone stops me and says a
something. I just stare at them with the wind
blowing in my ears. They stare back at me,
and then shout, “Are you stupid?”
No. I am air and static and all of me is disappearing.
Life is a garage
that you don’t leave–
a hazy by-product
stumbling through foggy window pains.
There’s my bed:
that lump in the corner.
Haven’t washed my sheets like never–
$10 to wash and dry?
Would rather put my immune system
to the test.
Life’s an 8×8 entrapment
in the most wondrous of cities–
when I stand up in the living room,
I also stand up with a foot in the kitchen
and a foot in the bathroom.
Sometimes I watch TV while
sitting on my dining room table.
Life’s a panic attack
when everything about it
can’t fit on a computer screen.
But in all seriousness:
Life is a really stupid thing when I think about
Candy Crush assholes with security
and teachers living like they’re already dead.