my autobiography

While I was playing Mario Kart the other day, I determined the name for my autobiography:

"How To Never Win - At Anything".

included will be a chapter on how to have fun while losing. Pretend you don't even play their game: drive the course backwards! Mock the flashing "reverse" sign! Look at your friends with condescension when they, bewildered, comment on your zany antics, and laugh all the way to the nuthouse.

(p.s. - lost 5 straight rounds of pool volleyball today. Keeping the streak alive!)

and foot

the bus driver

The edge of the summer is around the corner - I can tell cause people are getting tired of the sun, and once we cross that threshold there's a good chance of everything turning down and falling like a brick, not a leaf, and breaking apart onto the (now hopeless) indecision of fall's hard ground...

The bus driver, grasping at the wheel and wringing his hands up and down around it, turned his head half-way back and spoke to me: "Nothing ever turns out the way anyone plans. Hell you try and try and get your schemes together in your mind, but ultimately it ain't up to you. I mean, you want ta predict the future, look in the opposite direction of where you're going, that's where you're really headed, yeah sir, every time."

abk

abandoned bombers collab piece

the green man and snake is the portion by Jenkins Prinkensplatt

at the foot of the muses mountain

"Your eyes are like a window to your retinas, in that case...yeah and what else? Retinas, the man says, and no soul - where you come from is where you're going, lump a' cosmic dust strewn across an expanding nothing...

(the jewel-scattered hand still beckons like it's got some desperate thing to prove...)

take your leave to Delphi, try and find some truth, mingled with the python's dream...gotta know how it all ends cause I can tell it's killing you slow, wearing down to nothing what might be your soul..."

-Jenkins Prinkensplatt, from At the Foot of the Muses Mountain

there can be no rest

O find me here
Look under the never-passing night, it's hot and the moon is mostly full, and you got enough time out here where the lights are now encroaching but still a ways away, you can see em in the distance in a straight line from one side of the horizon to the other,
Find me here,
Where you can write in the moon's bright blue cast, and even at night the shadows fall off of you and onto the ground,
where old buildings and old fences cry desperately to stay standing, prop em up here and there as they need it, and soon everything is coming down...so many memories...
Find me here, amidst falling words that I swear I'll never look at again out of spite, but I know I will, until a Narcissus grows up maybe, maybe just there's something in here that's got wings and soars...
Shed yourself of the rest of society's trappings, the trappings of words, and style and grammar and posture...
Why dontya sit up straight, nobody likes nobody who slouches

first graff

rats

this is a picture of me thinking about doing homework...it's what I look like right before I decide to paint a stupid doodle on the front of my sketch book instead.

something else

(rublev)

my notebook...

something like artwork

"ISIS AND THE MOON SHINE ON ME..."

all capitals reduce inflection to nonsense

this is what happens when I am very tired

CALL ME SISYPHUS
WHILE I PUSH ENDLESSLY
AGAINST POINTLESSNESS
AGAINST HEAVY, CRUSHING
NEVER
WELCOME TO THE
UNITED STATES
WELCOME TO
ZAPPIAN MADNESS
THAT WILL NEVER
SMALL SLIVERS OF
DICED CREDIT CARDS
SCATTERED
FIND ME
THE BOULDER ROLLS
SLOWLY UP THE HILL
IF ONLY I WAS A LITTLE LESS WEAK
FIND ME OUT THE DOOR
I'LL BE DOING IT FOREVER
LEANING
THE REST OF MY LIFE
BUT DO IT
NOT SMILING OR SPEAKING ANYMORE
FOLLOW ME OUT THE DOOR
AND AROUND THE BEND
DIRT ON MY FEET
FILTHY FEET
SLIPPING AGAINST LOOSE SAND
LEANING
FOLLOW ME OUT THE DOOR
AND AROUND THE BEND,
FOLLOW ME
TOWARD
THE CREEPING PYTHON'S PATH
OF OUR EVENTUAL END...

nevermind

look at this
http://davechoe.blogspot.com/2008/06/pictures-from-lee-root.html

and anyone reading should come to this
http://davechoe.blogspot.com/2008/06/dirty-hands-world-premiere-in-los.html

ART IS NOT PRETEND

empty seats

roll camera
roll, roll, roll down
roll out,
speed
and we're going to roll out,
all the wistle-blowing feet
and we will pretend pain
and death and destruction
and beautiful sirens will
pretend opposite things,
and pretend a pain that
is never known,
only pretended
always pretending
happiness
and tears of joy
the whole life
-- life?
life of abstracted light
through empty seats
life of dead moments in a
screen...
well the earth dies screaming...
as I lay dreaming...

Big Smiley

Came across this poem by a member of the North Hollywood Boyz. Thought it was amazing so here you go:

BIG SMILEY FROM THE VICKS...... A BITCH IS A BITCH

THERES ANOTHER WORLD INSIDE
OF THAT U WILL NEVER SEE,
THERE R SECRETS IN THIS LIFE I CANT HIDE,
SOME WERE IN THIS DARKNESS
THERES A LIGHT I CANT FIND,
OR MAYBE ITS TO FAR AWAY,
OR MAYBE IM JUST BLIND,
PART ME IS FIGHTING THIS PART OF ME IS GONE,

BIG SMILEY FROM THE VICKS......
A BITCH IS A BITCH
DECEPTION
DONT NO WAT TO BELIVE...
SO MANY VISIONS OF MURDERS
AND BLOODY TORTCHER IN MY DREAMS...
FUCK A BACKSTABBING BITCH...
CANT KEEP THIS NH BOY DOWN...