Wrote a song tonight, heres a draft:

I woke up this morning with a shuken head
my eyes were still heavy with the dream of my death.
I was laying there, in the finest suit i'd ever worn
people around me shedding tears of depression
deep down inside I could feel my restless soul
rise up above me and see the saddened people
and just like once upon a time you stood out among the crowd.
We grew older and far a part from one another
but through your salty tears I could see your aching heart
Oh, where your wrinkles came from, i will never know
and where your brown hair once swayed, now lays the grey

But to me-ee you look quite the same
to the dead man here you'll always be his fondest memory,

And to me-ee you look just the same
from the last time we parted and I would go insane

There no worse thing out there than a finding love
and to never know the pleasure of our intertwining hands
locking and feeling our hearts beat together
or your soft skin sooth away all my woes

and to me-ee you look quite the same,
though i've change, I can assure you darling you never fled my mind.

And to me-ee you look just the same,
your mournin' black dress makes my depression disappear.

Holding you close would of melted away my body
leaving my love exposed to everyone
hoping you take my love and always hold it close
maybe that's what i should have done from the get go.

But here I lie dead, with a restless soul
hoping your love will join me soon.

Early/Mid-90's car. Sunny. Warm. Driving. Nothing to look at outside.

1. yeah, but if life were simple then you'd probably be able to openly admit that you love me and deep down inside you know you won't need any one else. But you could say that that's the whole appeal to life, you get to figure shit out for yourself - you know?

2. You love me?

1. Well, Yeah. . . I knew the whole time. I saw you walking across from me once and life clicked from that point on, even the fucked up parts. Now that I say it out loud, I kinda feel like Lao Tzu.

2. Wno?

1. Lao Tzu. The guy behind Taoism. There's this old story about Lao Tzu, the founder guy, his wife dies, right? Well around his time in china it's purely a confucian society - so it's nothing but rules and regulation and rituals and what's "proper". Anyway, his wife's dead and the Confucian way of paying respects is to wait three days and then dress in all black and trek your posses' asses to visit the poor guy. So Lao Tzu lives on top of a hill or mountain - like every other ancient chinese guy right? haha. Like I was saying, so the a bunch of high up confucian guys get together and make the hike up to Lao Tzu's house. When they get there they're amazed to see Lao Tzu butt naked, dancing and singing around a fire - like some crazy guy. The confucian guys ask what the fuck is up with him, he looks like an insensitive son of a bitch right? Lao Tzu replies by saying "You should have visited me when my wife died in my arms as i tried to nurse her back to health. When I was too sad to move or eat or drink anything. When I was covered in salty tears and the solid earth beneath me turned into mud, where I slept and mourned for three days. Now, after these sad days have realized that this is the way of the Tao and I should be happy that she has moved on, forever flowing with the Tao." I guess what I'm leading to is the feeling of the fucked up, there truly is none. It all feels right. It feels like it's all supposed to happen. Thats why before we find love we have things that piss us off but post-love that shit doesn't matter, it all feels like puzzle pieces dropping into their place, perfectly - without effort. Love is like the Tao in its greatness and ineffability, but most of all in it's feeling.

2. And what does that feel like?

1. You know.

Sunday night before last

"There was a time that this wasn't called 'Hop-Hop', it was just shit you did."
- Futura

I started to write an entry about this that took up a few pages in my notebook almost bashing people who do "Hip-Hop Choreography". Then I realized that 90% of you won't get it. So I'll leave you with the quote that storm told us at story tellers night. This quote simmered in my head for a long while and will stay with me. Thanks Storm.

Thoughts manifested from conversation between StormKo, Optic, Mars, Drah, Bookum and I.

Monday Morning

The morning was overcast with a few rays of light here and there. I decided to go for a run. The air felt dense with heat. When I came back home I bade D'Artagnan good morning and washed away my sweat. I watched sixteen candles and ate soyrizo. The mood struck me to write so I put music on, "Little Joy" to be exact, and lit a candle. The sky had grown cloudier since my run and i stared at the clouds to find a character, a scene, something. The air turned cool in a summer way and heavy drops of rain began to fall. Dispersed among each other significant enough to make a hush sound. It was in between a sprinkle and a rain as the spanish red roof tiles grew in red intensity among the grey clouds and black asphalt. The scene was so beautiful that it made me want to reach over to hold your hand, though I am alone. If i could reach over all the houses and trees, all the streets and people to find your hand waiting for mine, I would. To find your fingers locked with mine, I would.

Grandpa

"You're in a grassy field. There are a few flowers, but mostly grass. It's completely flat. You look up and see the sun, bright and dizzying. As you stare at the sun you notice something falling. It comes closer and you realize it's a snake with a giant head; circling down toward you. As it falls closer it opens it mouth wide to eat you. "What's going on? What are you doing?" You ask the great snake and it replies "I am your mother." Just then you see her. "I am here to guide you and protect you from all the bad that hails from this land." You look up again from where the snake had fallen from and you see the sun is on it's way to meet the earth. A strange light sings to you from the gap that is left between the sun and earth. A melody so sweet and mysterious. You walk toward the light but as you walk it retracts, slowly. You begin to walk faster and faster and faster until you are running. The light retracts faster and faster and faster until it is completely fleeting. There is no more soft grass underneath you, only coarse, rough sand. As you begin to perspire the desert twilight haunts you. Your paranoia increase as you gasp for air. The cacti are plotting against you, so are the mice and tumble weeds. Night grows and the stars show their light off to you, teasing you. As the sun sinks into the distant earth you begin to cry. The light you chased after remains in your thoughts and you are left with nothing. You curse the sun and the earth, the night and the mother. You curse the teasing light of the stars and plotting tumble weeds. You fall to your knees, crying. Then you look down to see the most beautiful, simple thing. beyond words and imagination it is there - for you."

news

So i've finally finished my first draft of my kids book. It took a while to let the thoughts simmer but i finally got it done. I'm planning to print out a copy and bring it to story-tellers night for some criticism. Thoughts that i have about it already is that it's very short, it's about 10 pages. I could do more but I really would like some constructive criticism first then I can make additions and divisions. Also, I've revisited an old project idea from 2007 and am making it to a full blown project. I'm excited for this one, but it can be devastating if i don't take my time with it. I'll be planning to pitch this to the story tellers as well as some other people. My last project is that of my Alter ego's blog. I'm waiting for some criticism for my last update. I wanted to open this one open but since people have been unresponsive it looks like i'll just be working on this alone and i'll be deleting the blog. I'll give it another week to see if this lights any asses on fire. It's also because i've been busy so I haven't been able to focus enough on the A.E.'s but this next couple of weeks should be pretty filled with free-time. Just wanted to update everyone on what was going on.

This doesn't have to do with my other blog, but it's written in the same format. I had this flash of an idea and this is what came out:


After an eventful battle.

Captain: What are you smiling about soldier?

Soldier: We won, cap't. They're dead, and the one's that ain't are gunne be.

Captain: Is that so?

Soldier: Yes sir.

Captain: What do you see there soldier?
:: Points to dead body, opposing army::

Soldier: I see a dead muther fucker cap't
:: Begins to chuckle::

Captain: ::Emotional punch, soldier on back::
::Raise voice::
What do you see soldier?

Soldier: ::Confused::

Captain: ::Screaming::
This! This is all of us! We're all, already dead mother fuckers with lead and pistols!
:;Breathing hard::
Walking dead, killing. Doing the devils work 'cause some congressman, some president - No, 'cause some real sick mother fucker told us to. There is no such thing as winning soldier, only more killing. Were just playing a politicians game; a battle royal. The last men standing get a metal and an applause. Well, do you know the difference between that dead muther fucker and the survivors is? The metal.

I made another blogspot. my approach is a little different than this one.
I'll still be using this one for updates, random writing, etc. etc.. Hence the name of the blog. No worries.

http://writingofmes.blogspot.com/

Outlier

I write a lot. As a matter of fact tonight i was going to go to a Denny's or Diner of some sort and take my notebooks with me so I could write. I write a lot on my blog and my notebooks, and I would love to share all of it to the world but I can't. I've been writing a lot more personal stuff lately, stuff about love and other subjects rather than simple fiction. The reason I can't post stuff that I write down is because it's too personal and I don't mind sharing it. People are afraid of what they read if it reveals too much about a person. Especially if that person is closely related to them, in one way or another. Then all hell breaks loose because people read way too much into your shit and think that your a fucking ass hole, or a depressed looney. Then don't consider it's just a creative outlet, oh no not with all these fucking statistic's out about johnny and suzy and how fucked up they are. Everyone's an expert. Plus, everyone who encourages you or say that they want you to write some more only want you to write the stuff they want to read, what they think is pleasent or what they consider a "good read" or whatever the fuck they want. Otherwise it's no use and, again, you just turn into some kind of fucking looney. I'm not johnny, I'm not dick and I'm sure as hell ain't suzy or betty. I'm Alex, so fuck all of you - go analyze that.