dreamnewo's Journal

hop in my cab destination midtown just to get up with some kids that like to get down
it would have been okay if i sold shoes for the rest of my life. It really would have been okay...

i could have been just as happy

ain't that some shit

your life is nothing but an honorable mention on the radio
This was written:

Thursday, June 09, 2005, 5:38:19 PM (according to the properties tab in windows)

this is my self destruction page by page (note by note)
inspired by a quote from a song written by a guy
pretending to be a teenager again, because only teenagers are as fickle as
"i want my kisses back from you"

this self destruction is
aimed at a very specific point in my life

destruction is not necessarily a bad thing
though the connotation of the word is somewhat negative
isn't it true that something must first be destroyed
before we can construct something better in it's place?

in the particular case that i'm speaking of
my self destruction
everything i've ever known has been ripped down

the word ripped doesn't justify the manner in which
the world as i had known it
was torn apart in front of me

this was not a voluntary exhibition
this was the inevitable churning of a thought process
my thought process
evolving into something i didn't think existed

the common excuse i've been using lately is
"a year at college can do a lot to a person"
whether that is to blame or not for my upside down thinking
is yet to be determined
it just seems like the easiest scapegoat at this point

i've found myself on a philosophical quest for enlightenment
more than the meaning of life, but less then the meaning of the universe
karma, the subtleties of life and the violent changes that thrash out because of them
fate, destiny, and how it seems that mix tapes are the answers and the roots
to most of our emotional instabilities

and all this time i continue to consider that the possibility that all of this
was because of a black pair of low cut chuck taylor converse
how ridiculous is that ?
my world is in a potential state of mass destruction
because of an inch and half rubber sole and some black canvas

broken down somewhere in georgia
this church is a barn...
that's not a metaphor
this church used to be a barn
that's methodist for you

support group schedules are posted on the community message board

I scan for wednesday nights; 7 o'clock

tonight

i'm in the right place
the computer printed blue and pink paper posted
on the rickety wooden door reads

'Criers Anonymous'

i need the song started over; your crying made me miss my favorite part
I'm starting to believe that there's no reason
for people to speak to each other anymore.
talking just fucks everything up

i think that the world should communicate through mix CD's

these can do all the talking for you;
although i haven't decided if mix cd titles should be allowed
because in a sense that's communicating through written word

but lets say we have the same EXACT mix with two different titles
the first being "a not so special mix on a not so special day"
as opposed to "listen close; you might just fall in love with me"

these two cds, even though are the exact same thing
can carry 2 opposite connotations;

this problem could result in the destruction of
every social relationship in the universe

friends would become enemies
brothers would fuck sisters
parents would adopt orphans to shave them bald, and sell their hair

HOWEVER

the perfect title for a mix can be inspiring
whether you spent 5 hours deciding the perfect songs for it
or
if it's just a collection of songs on an extra CDR
that you might have had laying around

whatever the case may be; the title is crucial to the success of the mix

in conclusion;
the solution to teenage drama; genocide; nuclear fallout; wet snow; skin cancer;
chinese food with msg; daytime televison; and everything else in this world
that we 'can do nothing about'

will be solved by mix cds with titles no more than 2 sentences long.

make a mix;
inspire someone

a killer in me is a killer in you
we are a selfish people
Even if I were the most generous person in the world
there is an equally selfish person in the world to balance it out

and today my apartment buzzer rang
I pressed the talk button, nobody answered

I ran upstairs
(i had to run upstairs because i live in a basement apartment)
it's a shame basement apartment don't get numbers, only letters

My apartment is BR
when i order chinese; the guy taking my order on the phone
clarifies it by saying "boy rubba'"
however if it was 1 or 2; it'd be so much easier;
and perhaps people in basement apartments would be less
frustrated when ordering chinese due to the lack of
communication breakdown during this process.

ultimately, your chinese food order will be faster
and resentment of 1st floorer's and 2nd floorer's by the
BR's or BF's would most definitely decline;

when i get upstairs, i pull the foyer door open
there stands a femme fatal in a shimmering gold dress;
wrapped in a fur coat,
she pulls her cigarette holder away from her lips.
in a puff of smoke
she reveals that there actually is no cigarette at the end of it

engraved in diamonds and colored stones,
her necklace reads "Self Preservation" written in gaudy Calligraphy

she steps into me very close
her lips caked in candy apple lipstick;
i can see all of the cracks and chapness

does she drool when she sleeps? she must with lips like that?
i started rattling of medicated chap stick brands in my head
that worked wonders for me

but she interrupted my train of thought when she spoke...

"I'm a natural born leader"

she backs out of my face and composes herself
as if readying for a big entrance.
she starts to walk past me into her 1st floor apartment

in anger and frustration i scream "DANCE"
she turns and falls to the ground;
all that's left of her was her expensive dress
and a pretty coat that was probably bought by
an overprotective and meddling boyfriend

if they would only change basement apartments to numbers

if your heart was broken; you would be dead
shhh listen.....?
do you hear it?

"hear what" she says

the truth is she'll never know
because even if she does hear it;
she'll never know how it felt

and here it starts
the chaoitc domino effect
first in my legs,
my heals and toes start to push in and out awkardly
my knees start to push back and fourth
not long until my hips start to move and sway
then arms swing, and my torso kinks opposite my legs
eyes closed; my neck snaps on down beats and symbols

i'm the most awkward kid in the room

she looks down at me like she's 100 feet tall
but she'll never understand
because behind her obscure music collection
and everlasting knowledge of the "scene"

1. Something seen by a viewer; a view or prospect.
2. The place where an action or event occurs: the scene of the crime.
3. The place in which the action of a play, movie, novel, or other narrative occurs; a setting.
4.
1. A subdivision of an act in a dramatic presentation in which the setting is fixed and the time continuous.
2. A shot or series of shots in a movie constituting a unit of continuous related action.
5.
1. The scenery and properties for a dramatic presentation.
2. A theater stage.
6. A real or fictitious episode, especially when described.
7. A public display of passion or temper: tried not to make a scene.
8.
1. A sphere of activity: observers of the political scene.
2. Slang. A situation or set of circumstances: a bad scene; a wild scene.

she'll never understand why

why we make fun of everything we love
why getting a pat on the shoulder;
or hugs and highfives from strangers are so important

she'll never understand

why we pick each other up
why we ask if you're okay
why we love to do what we do

shhh listen
... the calm before the storm

the room erupts into a hoard of angry barbarians
the rooms used to erupt into 100's of friends
the dancefloors are used for standing
the the bystanders are used for dancing

she crosses her arms
but i wouldn't know, because here i am

the most awkward person in the room
using the dancefloor for dancing
knowing the only words to a tune that never existed
amongst a mob who probably never would have cared about it

the mob is the future
and we are the post pubescent past
sprung from the pre-pubescent before us
who called us the mob

the least we can do is set the best example we know how

just love

A place in my heart for my home to the west
...and somewhere along the line i lost hope
everything I ever believed was thrown out the window

I stepped back and looked and the last 5 years objectively
life is dull when your passionate about nothing

the world will self destruct in x amount of years

i've turned down x amount of oppurtunities to have a drink with my friends

i've smoked x amount of cigars in the last 2 weeks

i noticed that all my black t-shirts are bands
that i forgot about? i don't even remember the shows
i didn't feel anything when this hit me
it was just numb

was it a race?
or the opposite of a race?
an anti-race?
that sounds genocidal
is genocidal is a word
homicidal is so why not?

was the point to be the last one standing?
royal rumble of the old gang?
and i'm alone in the ring
fuck the ring
alone in the arena because no one is watching

and i am unreasonably vain for thinking they were

and is this how i look back on the last 5 years?
with a shitty wrestling analogy?
i think i've just dissapointed myself even more

on my last trip home i felt nothing;
well not nothing that's a lie

i wanted to burn down the bamboo forest; just to breathe in the smoke
i eagarly wondered if the dunes of our secret beach had been eroded to a sandbar
i wanted so shop at a strip mall,newly constructed over the last beautiful field on long island

did i lose hope?
am i reborn? or just dead?

if it were up to me, tonight;

i'd mix the strongest liquor i could find
with sweetest; cranberry juice concentrate

grill up a 32 oz. ribeye steak

and spend the rest of my night in a 6x6 air tight box
getting as baked as a person could get.

i need to feel new again

birds stealing bread
whenever i flip through books
i can't help but come across
the ones that we co-wrote

the spines smell of glue
and the pages explode with
dust when the books are shut

no ones ever read them besides us
but that doesn't matter
we did it for ourselves
right?

we were the vaudville stars of literature
and we learned how to sing and dance
on every page

imagination and the understanding
of not quite understanding
made us so insignificant
insignificance led to inspiration
and if what inspired us was nothing
then why was everything we said
so important?
but it was only important to the people who listened
and the only ones who were listening
were the people that already knew
which totally eliminated the purpose of what we were doing

this lack of importance
is what made us such an amazing team
write me a new book about nothing

put me on the backburner
i went to au bon pain for lunch today
it has a fancy french title,
i can assure there is nothing french about it

in the little dining area
i sat by myself at a table

i looked up to notice six other people
all sitting alone at thier own tables
aside from this being a complete waste of chairs
becasue each table had four chairs
it was sorta reassuring

we all fumbled with our phones desperately
to prove silently to each other that we're not as lonely as we seem
i usually just go up and down through my phonebook
to make it seem like i'm texting someone

while i was eating my yogurt with granola and fruit
(it was definatley lacking in granola)
i decided that
au bon pain means

lunch for lonely people

it all begins with a smile
i was coming home on the T tonight
bostonians call it the T because when you say it
to someone who really doesn't know the slightest thing
about boston, it increases your
"cityhood"
or give you more "city points"

i feel like a city boy
i walk too fast
i get frustrated with tourist
i always carry a bag (even if i don't need to)
everything beautiful in the city...
i forget about

anyway
i was coming home on the train tonight
and 3 guys got on
two of them belonged together, the third not so much
two russians, (don't quote me, i've never been to russia)
both of them tall, curly hair and beards, spoke with broken accents
they both wore clothing brands that are a dead give away that they are
from out of the country

if you've ever seen anyone with a plain black pair of "british knights"
you know what i'm talking about
anyway the thrid guy was typical kid, he watched blankly as the two
russians occasionally made fun of him in russian
he just sort of smiled, but i saw right through the two russians

they were a band, the two russians obviously playing together for a while now
the third guy, the one who doesn't fit in, he was the new drummer
it was the first show he played with them, i could tell by the way he said
the songs sounded so good tonight, i really love that part in "fallen"
the russian seemed uninterested, i laughed

it won't work out you know
the akward silences they shared
the forced topics of quazi humours conversation

"posh spice, scary spice i loved them all"
said the outsider

the russian didn't care, he didn't know that the spice girls even had names?
i feel bad
the new drummer keeps playing on his knees you show his interest and
devotion to the band without actually having to say it to the singer
i guessed he was the singer because he seemed to be the more important
one to talk to, the new drummer barely talked to what i'm guessing was
the bass player
who likes bass players anyway?
not any commercial music videos that's for sure
unless ofcourse, the bass player also sings, then it's a totally different story

when i got off the train
there was steam shooting out of a manhole

i forget that this is my home somtimes
in the city

run through my town scream till i faint
dear old friend i'm hosting a dinner party
you're invited... black tie affair of course

mid october is the perfect weather for a dinner party
what constitutes perfect weather for a dinner party you ask?

that's easy
when its time to go home, and we our helping our wives with thier fur coats
and the gust of wind shoots in from the open door, blowing up the leaves
that have just begun to fall
you'll pause for a moment, from straighting the shoulder pads
on your wives fur coat and you'll take a deep breathe
you know exactly what i'm talking about, it's that wonderful
smell that you can't quite explain

next we'll all step outside to hug and kiss goodbye
before not seeing each other again for another 10 years
unless somebody dies or gets married before that

before we say goodbye we'll all reach for our fancy metal cigarette cases
with our matching zippos that bear the enscriptions of our early 20's
i don't know about you guys
but my wife bought me them as soon as i picked up smoking
she's too good to me

we'll talk about "the good ol' days"
I'll hear "I can't belive we're still friends after all these years"
at least 10 times between my first and third cigarette
but then again, our skinny supermodel wives tend to repeat themselves
when they've had a tad too much to drink.
not enough is still too much

words like "tad" and "ol'" make me seem alot wiser than i am

after everyone runs out of cigarettes, or their fur is going out of style
after all out of style is measured by the digital clocks under the
tags that tells you to dry clean or machine wash

you'll all pile into your rolls royce's modeled to look exactly like the old ones
trends travel in circles, the same ones that i never quite understood
now however, i'm extremely proficiant in them
on the way home you and your wives will say "we should do this more often"

and right before you fall asleep in your bedroom constructed soley
out of brazillian pine forests (such good quality, so worth it)
you'll wish you would have moved to iowa when you had the chance

don't worry
purity will be a trend sooner or later

it's ladies night, all the girls drink for free
today we wave goodbye to parking lots and
ride our last waves of asphalt heaven

going through our trendy decorated photo albums
reminiscing of what used to be
or destroying each and every picture in it

saving the photo album of course because
decorating it was so much work

tonight
we accept the fact that the
double knot shoelace ties that we have with people
are officially expelled to the loose smacking sound
of untied laces frayed from negligence
for the next 10 months

we forget and force out any anticipation of
normality and a healthy diet

our idenities are erased
and we still have the whole car ride
to decide who we want to be

the disease infested slut becomes a conservative vegan kiss ass
(she's still disease infested though; always wear a condom)

the straight edge preacher puts away his podium and
picks up his hashpipe

the starving artist paints his last self
portrait of an obese politician

the asian inline skater becomes a black baptist preacher

by next may we'll be asking ourselves

should i wear my etinies or my doc martins ?
should i wear my abercrombie or my black band shirts
ras ice tea or water with lemon
drinking or drinking?
both?
exploding or imploding
socially inept or socially orgasming
books or movies
guys or girls
romance or sex from behind

tonight we say goodbye as friends
or in my case "amigos"
next summer we introduce ourselves as strangers
i can't say strangers in spanish

your father's dead he passed in his sleep
movies are often very similar to dreams

a film is a captured, recreated, conception of reality
much like a dream they can be surreal and intense
or very tangible and possible

i've noticed much like movies... in a dream
you can't smell or taste anything, i've never remembered
a smell or a taste from a dream,

touch
sight
sound

i believe all of these are present in both movies and dreams

what causes our dreams? our ideas?
my infatuation with the west?

if the west was a movie i'd ride a black horse
the hair on its head would cover it's eyes,
i say "it" becasue i haven't decided a he or she horse yet
just hasn't crossed my mind

if the west was a movie i'd ride side saddle
if the west was a movie i'd ride the cargo of freight trains
if the west was a movie i'd shoot straight from the hip
better yet, from both hips
duels at noon with double six shooters

the trick in winning duels is to listen for the hands
of the clock in town above the bank
i'll draw as soon as i hear the gears move
i'll never lose

black snake skin boots, shiny metal spurs
5 o'clock shadows all the time
pianos, whisky, bar fights, bank robbers
and bandanas

if the west were a movie i'd be lead cowboy
what a movie it'd be

art star
tonight i could write something like
"life is a perpetual cycle of dissapointment"
but besides a bunch of bullshit that sentence
couldn't possibly describe what i'm feeling

the truth is i don't know what life holds for me
and i've never been so scared

this has been one of the best months of my life
and in a sense i guess one of the worst
but my friend kate said something to me tonight
that made me think

she said:
before i came here my aunt told me
wherever you go
you just have to hope that you'll have friends around you
and just to gain from them i guess
you can't expect them to be in your life forever

she sorta mumbled off in an unsure way after that
and at first it seemd like the most unhelpful piece of advice
i could have ever gotten

maybe it was her subtle minnasotian??? accent
or maybe it just took a second to make sense
but kates aunt sorta made sense

so with a warm pepsi in hand
that i stole from my .. former roomate?
i'll toast to myself 100 times
thinking about the people i've packed up
with my extra long bed sheets
because in college you have to have extra long bed sheets
regular ones just don't seem to fit

they don't love you like i love you
so there i was straightining out
the kids section of the sears shoe department
for free of course because i get paid on commission
and doing little bullshit chores like this
don't get me paid

i think i was putting away sketchers pinwheels
they're these shoes for little girls
that want to grow up extra fast,
after they buy them, their parents probably
bring them down to libby lu for make overs
then to the food court for a snack, and then onto the street corner
kids gotta work sometime right ?

anyway, while i was sorting this shoe
that helps daddy's little girl turn into
daddy's little mommy

i had been feeling extra numb
every 5 minutes i prayed for a natural disaster
an earthquake, a hurricane , anything
right then i fell into a day dream
a really vivid one at that;

a loud crash made me jump and drop my box of
daddy's little mommy makers
i looked over my shoulder and i was exstatic
a gunman storming through the front gate
firing shot after shot into innocent
shoppers and co workers
i smiled
i couldn't stop smiling
i saw my boss fall after taking a hit in the back
of his right leg, he slid across the tile floor
streaking blood as he slammed into a table full of sandals
i just fixed that table, he's such an asshole

the gun shots and crys people was music to my ears
i felt like i was conducting an orchestra of chaos
people were running all around me in slow motion
someone pulled the fire alarm and the sprinkler system started
it was a masterpiece

a women in front of me was waving a shoe in front of my face
i just kept smiling,
waitng for her to take a bullet in the back
i couldn't even hear what she was saying, the screams and gunshots were too loud
slowly the water began to evaporate and the screams and choas
vanished into the department store antichrist that we know as sears
and this women was bitching to me that
daddys little babymaker didn't come in half sizes

right then i took a step back and thought
wow it's time to take a break

i went to the food court and got my food
i was enjoying teryaki chicken
when i look up and 5 mothers have teamed up
to push 5 tables together
and just as fast 5 fathers are tossing a bunch of chairs at each
and out of left field 17 10 year old girls coming running to
thier assigned seats carrying their build a bears

for some reason, i knew right then that i had hit rock bottom
and all it took was some
baby hooker shoes, teryaki chicken and 17
stuffed bears made with love

godbless the bears

just get in it's so amazing
i smelled spring for the first time today
scent is probably the first thing you notice about a new season
if you think about it, it's really true
there are days in the midst of december that are beautiful
these are beautiful winter days,as much as you want them to
feel like spring, they are still just winter days
today's weather could feel like any one of those
"beautiful winter days",

what really lets you know that spring is here is the scent in the air
it doesn't smell like anything you can describe, but you know it so well
i think it's the strongest just as the sun begins to dart behind the trees
people seem generally calmer on these "transition days"
i call them transition days becasue the new season is coming in
and everyday feels like your reborn,
waking up with a warm sun on your face,
and a chilly spring breeze through the window
too bad this only lasts for about a week
then you get used to the new season and
pray for time when you can smell the summer

maybe i'm a baby but i think it's time to go
i was sitting on the vintage red cow stool
talking to my new best friend
when suddenly a women grabbed me from behind and kissed me
without even seeing her face i pushed her away and looked at her with confusion
confusion soon turned to happiness,
not happiness to see her, but happiness that pushed her away so fast
this women was the reason you didn't leave your glasses at home
before going to the bar,
she was the reason that you drank just enough to make any women attractive
but not enough to go home with her
lucky for me, that my 234 shots of whisky were non alcoholic

she was a middle aged women, with glasses
her face was plain, her eyes were just empty
she looked unhappy, just generally unhappy,
i haven't seen a girl like this in a very long time
she was a short, skinny women with severe hormonal problems
i'm just kidding, i made that up after she left and i had time
to make some jokes with the bartender

"i'm sorry, i just really need someone"
"i haven't been held by anyone since "
"the first, of two months before"
"new years day, fourteen years ago"

i was puzzled at the way she talked,
she was obviously smarter than me
but she seemed timid and shy,
she wouldn't even raise her head and look me in the eyes
after a long akward silence, she started wimpering, and not soon after broke into a sob
i told her not to cry, i was very sympathetic, then again i can't really judge that
i once told my girlfriend while she was crying
to feel better because she could have been murdered by someone on
"Americas Most Wanted," she just looked at me and called me an asshole
i never found out if it was the right thing to say or not, but i like to think it was
"I'm sorry, i always cry over the dumbest shit"

she ran away hysterical crying,
i had a gut feeling that i was going to see her again
or maybe it was the whiskey coming back up
yea, definatley the whiskey coming back up
right there in my seat i threw up all over myself
i was really pissed too because i loved my outfit

i had the sweetest curdaroy blazer on
it was brown/gold and i bought it from
the thrift store my freshman year in college for 5 bucks
i remember the shoulders were really puffy,
but today it fit like i always thought it should have
i was rocking a blue zipup hoodie underneath
i had sort of an old school ho-bo look, i was really in love with it
i'm way too in love with myself

There's beauty in the breakdown
he interrupted my stare with a question
i actually didn't even hear the question because
it's rare that i can fall into a nice daze
and i was too busy thinking about how pissed i was that this guy ruined it

"what can i getcha?"

i wanted a cup of water, that's what i always drink... water
but i was informed that there is no water, only "good ol' fashion hard liquor"
i've never been drunk before, so i figured theres no harm in getting a few shots of whiskey
i was pounding shots upon shots, and i felt nothing
i figured that the after life was even getting cheap
and going with Jack's little baby brother Evan instead
just as i was thinking that,

"ya won't get drunk ere', if that's whatcha wonderin"

apparantly since my body isn't here i can't get drunk
but i kept on drinking, i don't know why
it tasted like battary acid, and it burned like hell going down
but i felt more and more sophisticated with every shot

the bartender and i were talking for hours
but according to the clocks on the wall
only minutes have passed
so either i have been talking way too fast
or this is where the term "Eternity" comes from
either way, this guy was my new best friend
he's probably the only real friend that i've had in a while
i mean how pathetic is that,
the best friend i've had in years
is the southern bartender thats
pouring me whiskey that serves no purpose
other than to make me feel like
i'm better everyone else whos begging for a drink
serious de ja vu with 8th grade

In the midst of my conversation with the bartender
something extremely unusual happened
unusual for me that is...
perhaps that's because i'm generally unattractive
or maybe because i'm too attractive, so much that often intimidate women
i haven't decided which, but i'm leaning towards the latter of the two
either way it doesn't make the occurance any less unusual

i drink to stay warm, and to kill selected memories
so i'm sitting at the bar in purgatory
because that's all purgatory really is
a giant bar as long as you can see
the bar stools cushions are
apolstered much like a funeral home
beautiful vintage red leather
even the after life kills cows to roll in style
i thought that to myself and chuckled

behind the bar, in the distance
i could see a figure moving towards me
it was a man, he stood much taller than I
but not too tall
he wore a small red feather tucked into
the ribbon that wrapped around his old bowler derby
a black button up shirt worn casually,
the top button undone, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows
a polished silver belt buckled that shimmered with each step
held up his armani dress pants,
were they armani? i don't really know
why would anyone spend that much on pants?
i couldn't see his shoes though, that botherd me
because i do happen to love shoes

the way he walked was hyptonic, i guess
if you've ever listen to the radiohead song
everything in it's right place, then you know what i mean
watching him, i didn't notice at all the time that passed from
when he was a 100 paces away to when he was standing in front of my face

take you to the forest let you feel the raindrops
as a reader slash writer it's vital to reconize important points of good writing
personally,color is the most important thing to me,
because if i don't like the color that i get from a particular piece i tend not to like it,
somethings however are unfair, coheed and cambria for example
when i listen to them i think of a very bright lime yellow slash green, i love it
but that could be perhaps becasue the album cover is that color
this would also explain why i tend not to listen to the second cd
this "color" emulates from everything, people books movies, etc...
and maybe the deciding factors on many points of interest
but if color in writing is so important
and in talking about color throughout this piece
do you get a rainbow?
i hope not becasue i hate indigo,
and if indigo has anything to do with anything i write,
it's time to move to black and white

on a new note i will be posting pieces of a short story slash prose i am writing,
each week containing the new installments of the story
if this sounds interesting drop a comment

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