Digital Writ

I’m glad there wasn’t a fight if things are peaceful there is less to talk about I know but no hard feelings and no loss go home and listen to that song life in a glass house by Radiohead that’s all for now

quiet except for music which is the best thing for me right now if you think of code enough you start to dream it and life isn’t something very interesting to talk about code like a glass of milk you feel sorry and sore and wish for just a little more time regret working for…… Continue reading just what is emo

you know how you slip up and say something stupid? I’d like to recall some perfect things. let me start over. my cat was all wound up tonight, getting in the paper bag and tumbling all around. I banged on the outside of it with my hand, and with the other, attacked him with a…… Continue reading gotta light?

Saturday night was reserved for reading a few poems you might think, but really for dancing like an absolute fool. the right music was put on and I turned into an absolute freak. for a moment there I was the center of attention, because I broke away from my reserved nature and became like this…… Continue reading is this the center?

exist here opening up in the movies too the boss is like the stereotypical cop like a parent who never understands its child never understands anyone they speak German you speak English heart palpitations you can’t say anything distant from you I just sit and notice all I’m supposed to do the pains swell up…… Continue reading sludge

it’s another late night puncture wound, blood loss, clot, whatever. as much as I feel like writing, I don’t feel up to writing all that much I don’t think. I’ve no idea. I miss a lot of friends, some who I think have abandoned me completely. they play such an important role in all of…… Continue reading something forms

eyes sore like a bastard, like my shoulders, like the music watered over me. I rest in these blankets this strange winter. I could die, a train car could smash me open, slide over me, they’d curse me for jamming up rush hour, for being . . . selfish. hmmm. eyes sore, like I said,…… Continue reading the sore eyed chronicles

sitting here on a Sunday night, betting that a lot of people think I’ve gone into retirement by now. betting some are replacing garbage bags and setting their alarm clocks without the slightest care in the world, which is fine, ’cause it’s really how things have to be anyway. so I will sit here and…… Continue reading the way it should be

I want to be a natural writer this means writing freely and a hell of a lot to get to that free up inhibitions of the hand none of the technology means anything if the thoughts vegetate. think by and for yourself and be the mature man. he says he’s trying to have love but…… Continue reading go claim the damn airport sky somewhere else