Saturday, February 10, 2018

sometimes the words hit me

and i wish that i had a pencil
some paper
but i look down
and all that i have in front of me
is wanting
no pencil
or paper
not even something to stab myself' with
and write the words in blood
maybe across my windshield
or on the sliding glass doors at whole foods
(i sure do like that whole foods)

the words hit me
like a ton of bricks
or a lifetime of bad choices
either way
it's a lot to carry around
when you have no pencil
no paper

sometimes the words hit me
like they did today
only this time
i looked down
and i signed into this page
this blog
this life
and i type
trying to get it out there
out of me
but it's useless

the words just don't seem to flow right now
dried up
and this is where i would insert a metaphor
about a river
being dry
and this is where i would insert a knife
into my chest
and turn it
pull it out
and stick it back in
and again

fucking dried up river
of emotions
and thoughts
and words
no reason for any of it
it's a lot to carry around
when you have a bad back
and a sore shoulder
sometimes it can be too much
the weight of it all

the words hit me
and life hits me
right in the fucking face and it hurts
and the hurt reminds me
of all the times before
right now
and right now doesn't exactly feel too great

and i have no pencil
or paper
but even if i did
tomorrow is grocery shopping day
and i'm tired.

Friday, July 14, 2017

i just typed a few paragraphs of bullshit

i won't post them tonight
or delete them
i guess i'll hold onto them
until i feel like they're not bullshit anymore

but that might be awhile
because i feel pretty fucked up
and there aren't too many words
that i can say
or type
to get that out there

that are worth reading

by anyone,
including you.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

july, 2017

i don't have much to say really.
things are ok
but i'm kind of down...
maybe it's because i'm thinking about my mother
she died 4 years a go, right around now.

or maybe it's because i'm sick in my soul?

either way
those are both pretty shitty things
to have to deal with...

Monday, June 26, 2017


i feel like i have failed this world
and there isn't much more that can be said about that


Tuesday, June 6, 2017

i've been pretty busy

still shooting pretty regular
and messing around with a little film too...
i am also pretty depressed, as usual

the depression usually has some words that follow,
but for the moment
i'm too busy trying to get ahead in life.

once i get a couple more bills paid
i'll stop
and pontificate,
about my life
my sadness

and whatnot...

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

when i was a boy

my mother would go over to my uncle frank's house
and help with things
sometimes i would tag along...

my uncle frank always had on his old green shop shirt
sitting at the kitchen table
half the man he once was-

i used to sit at the table
and talk to my uncle frank
mostly, i would listen
as he told me stories about my dad
his blue ford pick up
and that old fishing boat he used to have...

he would ask me how my father was doing

my dad was dead though.

had been for at least 6 years
but i liked hearing stories about him,
my father.
i never knew my dad
have no memories of him
he left when i was 2.
died when i was 5.
and all i ever heard
was that he was "a fucking drunk"
and i'm sure he was,
but my uncle frank seemed to like him
and i liked hearing his stories about him-
my dad,
"the fucking drunk".

now i don't know if anything that my uncle frank told me, about my father, was true?
because of the dementia
but i enjoyed hearing it anyway
i would answer his questions
with a simple "yes"
or a "i don't know"
and he would go on and on...

my mother would finish up
and we would leave
this went on for a few years
and then my uncle frank died...

i don't know too much about him,
my uncle frank
i don't remember what he did for work
and why he had a green shop shirt
with his name on it.

i don't really remember the stories that he told me,
about my dad anymore
but those stories
whether fancied or real
helped shape an alternate, and important image
of my father
something, besides me hearing that he was a drunk.
which i'm quite certain that he was...

i do remember going to my uncle frank's funeral.
i remember seeing him
in the coffin.
it was the 1st time i ever saw my uncle frank
in anything besides his green shop shirt...
i wasn't sad, but
i preferred him the old way;
at his kitchen table
in his green shop shirt
telling me stories about my father
and smiling
flicking his ashes
as the hours went by-
my mother cleaning...

i like to remember him that way,
uncle Frank...