:: Trying not to hide, aren't you? ::

Age: 22

Birthdate: 06/10/83

Venue: Charlotte, NC

Past: A broken boy from a broken home with a broken spirit.

Present: Actor, writer, dreamer. Student of Life. Artist, Seeker of Truth.

Future: Professional actor of the stage and independant film. Writer of wit, drama, and philosophy. Teacher, Director. And, I will be somewhere else besides here.

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:: Wednesday, August 03, 2005 ::

ah, did you hear the death of a severely long dead blog, no? me neither, i wasn't listening. maybe, just maybe, i'll pick it up again, but more likely i'll start a new one. and while i say "more likely" that doesn't make it very likely. what can i say, i'm lazy as shit.

:: 10:27 PM [+] ::
...

I might just as well get a barcode tatooed on my forehead and strap on an electro-shock slaver's collar . . .

Cinch your tie just a little bit tighter
hold your head just a little bit higher
Are you any less a slave when
you fasten your own collar?
I'm not here to judge, mine is just
as tight as yours.
And I'll wear it on my dying day
on display
Surrounded by candles and flowers
More fortunate than runaway
slaves hanging from trees.

Once upon a place
there lies a dying time
when where and when
meet to sing the
tale of when- or was it where?
the place- or was it time?
Nevermind.
They became the same.

Seeking to recieve
the place never tasted
by the all too familiar
tongues of the mirror addicted nation

Sometimes I daydream
of all of you falling on
your faces and staying
there, too embarassed even
to get up and see that
you all fell
Too embarassed
to get up and see
that you are all
the same.

seven minutes at a time
the story is told
over and over again
without end
or begining
merely cycling
over time
over ears
not listening
yet still,
seven minutes at a time . . .

:: 6:00 PM [+] ::
...

I'm thoroughly lost in a sea of distraction. I've lost a good bit of focus, at least focus on things I value. It's insane to want certain things so badly, but to spend all of your time hiding from them. It's hard to be unhappy, however, when surrounded by such interesting people. I find myself studying my companions with the eyes of a scientist. I've shifted a good deal of my attention away from myself, and on to others. This is prohibitive of self-improvement, I know, yet still it happens.

I've made a very interesting observation, however. Three people I know have told me about the demons they see in their day to day life. I mean, demons that they actually see with their eyes. I feel like I've been left out. I don't have the capability to see these manifestations, and I can't decide if it's an advantage or a disadvantage. I must clarify that I don't doubt the truth of these reports. I simply recognize my inability to experience them myself. Strange indeed. I hope that I make up for my blindness in some other perceptive manner. Alas, work calls, but I will close with a short poem:

I stood as you past
knowing your path
watching you go.
I sat back down
to the realization
that even while
sitting, I too am
going somewhere.

:: 9:41 PM [+] ::
...

Archives, oh archives, where have you gone?

:: 4:19 AM [+] ::
...

Once again, I'm back after another hiatus. I've some more poetry I'd like to post, though I think I'm off my game. I'm not too satisfied with recent works, but that's the game we play.

I went to Radiohead in Atlanta on Monday. Practically a religious experience. I got the t-shirt based on the these lyrics:

We Suck Young Blood
are you hungry?
are you sick?
are you begging for a break?

are you sweet?
are you fresh?
are you strung up by the wrists?

we want the young blood

are you fracturing?
are you torn at the seams?
would you do anything?
flea-bitten? motheaten?

we suck young blood
we suck young blood

won't let the creeping ivy
won't let the nervous bury me
our veins are thin
our rivers poisoned

we want the sweet meats
we want the young blood


That's from the newest album, Hail to the Thief, which is a must buy. Didn't I say something about poetry? Unfortunately, I'm at work, and don't (for once!) have my notebook with me. ::GASP:: Oh well, perhaps another day, and soon. I'll write myself a note, I promise. So, within the week expect a slew of new (though perhaps mediocre) poetry. Until then, farewell.

:: 4:53 PM [+] ::
...

Life's a constant party, only I wasn't invited. Eh, it's silly to say that. I've been so busy, I just haven't had time to play. Or work, for that matter. The paying, regular job leaves almost no time for the work I'd really like to be doing. I want to publish a work of fiction; even a short story would satisfy me. Only my schedule doesn't allow for the routine I need to fall into for this project to work. Frustration in big bold letters. That pretty much sums it up. Eh, at least I had today and yesterday off, except I've nearly spent these two days entirely on getting over the previous days, and preparing for the days to come. The Amazing Wes Brown has been in residence the past three days. He's a solo guitarist/vocalist with alot of blues and folk influences, mingled in with a good bit of political and social awareness. Bottom line: Cool cat. I've been helping him to produce demo recordings to send to prospective record companies, radio stations, and to help him get gigs. He already plays around Charlotte and has played alot in Greensboro. I am humbled. Aside from few other minor frustrations, I do feel pretty good right now. Things are pretty peaceful, all in all. Let it last.

:: 4:54 PM [+] ::
...

I apologize for the length between posts, but I've been exceedingly busy. I shot a film this weekend, an independant feature called Burning Darkness. It's a fantasy piece, and it was alot of fun, though painful. I'll be sure to update about how to get a copy and where it'll be screening, once it's finished with the editing process. Eh, but like always, work calls and I must depart.

:: 5:36 PM [+] ::
...

Funny, that we shoot bombs in the air to remember bombs in the air, and if only we were there, to see these bombs in the air, we'd only want to forget them.

:: 3:37 PM [+] ::
...