Tuesday, April 6, 2010

the too late part of the too late night
























everybody loves somebunny by lauryn holmquist


sometimes it makes good sense to download 250 top hits of the 90s and to spend most of the night listening to them. i keep thinking any second Mr Jones is gonna come storming into my room holding a grey guitar ranting about some spanish girl he saw dancing with perfect black hair and throw me a bottle of Jack and pick my meds off the table and read the label with some difficulty, deehhxx, aah, phet, a-mine. hmm. and then throw me that too, tell me to mix em up nice. and to scratch his short beard and throw his long hair around and then say yo kiddo, lehss go, turning and walking out without checking to see if i'm following; __but next thing i know we're sitting on the roof of a building somewhere screaming PICASSO! loud as we can eyes-soo red we think we're on mars and finally, at some bar somewhere dancing the two of us holding hands and crying into each others' ears, don't say that word don't say that word don't say that word while we smell _l o n e l i n e s s_ in our heads uncontrollably. before, finally, in a fit of exhaustion we collapse into a small booth with two blonde 19 year old hairdresser-apprentices who complain about how their feet are uncomfortable in their heels and we look under a table and our groins twitch at their little feet in those long-necked aphrodisiacs. i think she's lookin' at you i say. but he just shakes his head without taking his eyes off her.


*___*___*

if you want to know why i don't write more it's because exams are two weeks away. and because i sometimes, especially lately, just... [he sits and stares away a while. she waits for him to answer; but after a few moments thinks she's probably lost him again.
___and that's just the thing with him, he lives somewhere between his thoughts and the interpretation of his thoughts he does (and does not) find around him in his daily life. and when he finds things contrary to what he thought he becomes confused and... [he sits and stares away a while. she waits for him to answer; but after a few moments she thinks she's probably lost hima again.


*___*___*

tomorrow we can drive around this town
let the cops chase us around
past is going something might be found
to take its place,

__(the 90s kick ass)


*___*___*

THINGS I PLAN ON DOING WHEN MY BREAK STARTS IN TWO WEEKS: A LIST;

1. is that ocean?, if it is, i want to sit by it and breathe a little.

2. read. i have books everywhere, you can' reach to turn off a lamp or close a door without disturbing a small colony of books living on desks and under coffee tables and littering the couch. anything will do. maybe John Ashbery. dear poetry, it's been too long.

3. listen to the well-tempered klavier with the score in my lap.

4. dream.


*___*___*

- oh, lookee here, now we have tired-Q.
- whha?
- we've had four Q's tonight, it's been hectic
- [for me too... trust that] whhich?
- first we had drugged-up wide-eyed no-emotion Q. then after the movie we had crazy run around me giving me the finger dancing to the bathroom Q. then for a while over coffee we just had normal Q. and now we have falling asleep tired totally retarded Q.
- ...
- you're asleep aren't you?
- ...


*___*___*

when i was 12 i would blast Who Is It? by Michael Jackson out my bedroom with the window open, which i'd dance to like a mid-fit epileptic while playing basketball while taking breaks to dance with my overweight cat named Molly that i'd become allergic to in a week or two and would eventually have to get rid of to my still enduring sadness.


*___*___*

these are nocturnisms i guess. if that means anything.
i like to think of it though, that 3:18am Wed 7th April is kinda a strange planet somewhere. like i'm a man who lives on a moon somewhere who walks around kicking rocks and dipping cookies in tea and masturbating and who no one knows about. my neighbors think it's just a light in the house across the street that no one ever bothers to turn off.

floating off.

in our strange galaxies.

listening to Michael Jackson and thinking about cats and forthcoming autumns and when life became an is that was possible of a was.

what i mean is...
___[




______________________________________________________]

_____what?

2 comments:

王志竹 said...

how do u do?

Anonymous said...

"The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration." ~ Pearl S. Buck