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Wednesday, January 4th, 2006
8:56 am
sticky silence. mucous and chorophyll. random flavonoids and alkaloids, species of chemicals evolved over the eons for some teleological benefit of humankind. marijuana consiousnesss is an automatic repulsion towards capitalism. i daydreamed earlier about asking my boss, 'so in totally socialistic terms, wouldn't it be ok for me to be paid overtime once a week?' sometimes intelligence is equated with craziness. mistaken attempts at humor and a consiousness of the internal qualities of asphalt. you cannot escape the grey if you drive an automobile on a snowless winter road. the hashes and lines and signals, mystical symbols from dreams and hallucinations. hiccups and nicotine and wine. the more i drink the less drunk i am. and no sleep. a bright grey dawn and the tendrils of evergreen ivy. the prison bars on my window that keep me safe from burglars. the forever receding junctions of the walls in my room. the ceiling an apt analog for an expressionless face. chemicals and balance. withdrawl dreams of caterpillar tempura. in a jar the caterpillars squirm in a gel of protein globules and nascent cocoons. a delayed onset of marijauana intoxication wakes me and i reel. every movement amplified and rendered like the sensation of falling forever. sometimes this can be called euphoria, but not today. good morning starshine, the earth says hello.

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Saturday, December 31st, 2005
3:57 am
clock ticks noon and feeder bells in the waiting room. a weigh boat and bleeding lips in the bitter cold. the flight of the southern sun, a race to hide behind hill or horizon. the tendrils so carelessly falling over your eyes, tickling your brow and making you grimace in odd ways. your expression without meaning to reflects the plane of the ceiling. a sense of the geosynchronous sky and a fleeting dislike for you glances across the cortex. a polarizing event too weak to be noticed by the naked eye. but a viscous repulsion strong enough to be felt in the beating heart drowns the sound out of the room. we close our eyes in the sticky silence and wait for it all to pass.

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Tuesday, November 29th, 2005
9:21 pm - nostalgia exercise 440
bit 35, tears in the typing pool. the 2 year party draws to a close. my mouth is devoid of mucus membranes, raw and parched and bitter like a life that makes no sense. i will live in a hotel for a few weeks until i find an apartment and figure out what there is without a long and drawn out nightly ritual of imbibing whatever drugs you can lay your hands on...waiting in dusty cluttered rooms, watching the clock for your next hit...listening to a girl scheming for her next line of coke ramble about her fucked up childhood...driving 400 miles in the dark to take a homeless prostitute home. the search for meaning never stops. every change seems merely like a substitution, a shimmering veil that eventually gets tattered.

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Tuesday, September 27th, 2005
10:40 pm
falling apart and coming together. i've been reading a lot. the secret summer keeps going (but not for long, the deficits are piling up.) i wake up mumbling: 'is he a jesus boy?' the cool weather and the chill of longing coalesce into something warm and comforting. a shimmering river, crystal clear runs in my dreams. it's shallow and i can see clearly the rocks and smooth pebbles underneath. the water looks warm. in the distance the haze of a waterfall. the pull of the current i feel despite only standing on the bank. a jump cut to an opposing view of this scene: the waterfall is a dam, a cold and isolating structure, the foamy water gushing from the concrete spillways a sight of pure terror.

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Friday, September 16th, 2005
4:23 am - pickpocket
Friday, November 4 through Tuesday, November 8

AFI Silver

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Thursday, August 11th, 2005
9:50 pm - mothy moon light
a nostalgia robot humming a tune on the verge of being forgotten. a sleepwalker privy to the silent atrocities of 4am. a human answering machine obsessed with the mechanical nature of sex. a phase diffracted telephone voice from somewhere in mongolia implies vast red deserts. austere photographs of faces with glazed eyes. moth light. betelnut salvation and nicotine death in the same bag. lipid soluble panic waves. fingers coated in acrylic. a heavy silence and a quick goodbye. we can share fluid images. but my thoughts stutter like a skipping cd.

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Tuesday, August 9th, 2005
5:42 am - arcane atrocities and insomnic epiphanies
my friend jw came over tonight to put finishing touches on the backing tracks for our performance this weekend. we were incredibly productive and talkative thanks to the lack of drugs or alcohol. i happened to mention my bizarre dream from last night. he was quick enough to realize that he thought it was merely about the perceptions i have about my life at the moment. things i'm doing wrong, things i could be doing better etc. i was so relieved to hear this. and he is quite right. the bizarre array of dreams that have been afflicting me lately make sense in this new light. sometimes it takes a friend to make sense of my quasi purposefully garbled existance.

tonight i also resolved to get a new job. a co-worker and myself started a petition to change our company policy regarding overtime. after discussing this with our manager we were told that there would be risks involved in taking it through. in short our manager implied a threat to the security of our jobs. i felt like exclaiming it's a fucking petition not a strike. once i get a job lined up i will carry the petition through even if it means getting fired.

last night as i was laying in bed, j g ballard's crash made perfect sense. accidental collisions and the ensuing wounds are the stuff of connections. a more apt metaphor for love i cannot imagine at this time of the night. thinking now i find it strange that the metaphor of a car crash was used by the first girl that ever bothered to love me. (and it took me this long to aptly understand its the meaning.) these sorts of coincidences imply to me a certain singularity of the human mind.

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Saturday, August 6th, 2005
5:55 am - i was a code, you are a pendant
secret shine your pull never ends. the tether now merely a frayed string. a steadily spiraling elliptical orbit. a collision that was never meant to be. the energy in a covalent bond lost as light at the breaking point.

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Friday, July 15th, 2005
5:19 am
activation of muscarinic receptors by nicotine induces microparalytic events in smooth and skeletal muscle tissue creating a sense of relaxation in the subject. inflammation of pulmonary tissue causes the adrenal cortex to dump cortisone into the bloodstream during sleep. gross symptoms of prolonged cortisone exposure include facial edema and increased deposition of adipose tissue around the waist.

a shroud of smoke is momentarily frozen by the strobe like lightning storm. fingers of light reach across the expansive horizon in front of me. the lightening seems all encompassing. i drive up and down this empty road for 30 minutes. eventually the rain comes. i park in a neighborhood far away from home. i recline my seat and chain smoke as the rain pelts my roof. i close my eyes and try to make sense of the whisperlike patterns forming behind my eyelids. rhythmic arrays of colored points of light. when i wake the moon shines brightly. not a cloud to be seen.

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Monday, July 11th, 2005
2:23 am - seema seeta madhavi malathi
too afraid to say it. would you happen to have a cigarette i could borrow. the self proclaimed best rapper in the world proposes to buy beats from me. home made ring modulators and digital oscillators. i can only control these devices. we're so dependant on electricity. neuromancer by candlelight. the illiad by flashlight under the covers.

i cover my face with my sheet and imagine i'm in a one man spaceship, my feet on the bed post control the thrusters. the hypnagogic flickerings an arcane array of controls and meters. the layers of lies slowly seeping into my ears through a too warm cellphone. a childlike voice from a distant star laughs nervously after each revelation. like reichian counterpoint, an intricate stasis that causes the illusion of movement. i smoke pall malls so i can remember you 40 times a day. utterly useless nostalgia. the frogs by the pond lazily croak the pathetic song of propogation. the intermittent roar of late night semis induces a nauseous anxiety. the rabbits jumping across the dewy grass might as well be elements of a hallucination.

a steady acoustic guitar playing two chords. a beat that makes me want to go at my guitar like a seriously possessed murderer. the scars on its wood are so much more beautiful than the blood oozing from under my fingernails turning them blue. a packet of gutkha rotting my teeth slowly. the lime in the formulation stripping away the mucous membranes in my cheek. my angel sister died in the arabian sea when i was 9. her body never washed ashore.

the look of death in the singer's eyes. but i can imagine a sound more violent. the sound of my liver being pulverized by shrapnel. i've always wanted to see a plane crash. and read autopsy reports mistaken for poetry.

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Thursday, July 7th, 2005
3:35 am - the sensual hallucination of love
noise shrapnel causes a pulsing headheache. a warm bed 40 miles and 8 time zones away. a scent that sends a shiver down my back. the ashy aftertaste of a stolen cigarette. secrets i keep even from myself, strangled by swarms of snakes. the complex interference patterns of ripples in a secret edy within paintbranch creek. the spatialized sounds of unseen forest animals. the darting movements of tiny creek fish. the soft sensation of silt under my sneakers, worn to a perfect texture by the creek. the sexual connotations of an intense downpour lasting only 5 minutes. the knowledge that nature's rhythms are recapitulated by the body and all rhythms are merely consequences of physical laws. every pleasure slowly kills.

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Thursday, June 23rd, 2005
6:27 pm - back in the flow
a flock of geese in the park. they don't seem to mind me. i feel like a part of their group for a few moments. perhaps they can sense my state of mind. perhaps even telepathically reading my thoughts because they start taunting the everyday people going through their exercise routines...whizzing by on rollerblades and bicycles or jogging at a lethargic pace on the black asphalt trail around the artificial lake. after spending a few moments noting the movements of the geese i continue down the trail. it seems the etiquette on an exercise trail is to mind your own business. my attempts at meeting eyes and nodding with strangers result mostly in them turning their faces slightly to the opposite direction. i walk onto a pier and overhear a father arguing with some tiresome kids. i can only take the side of the kids. embarassed by their confrontation i move on past couples sitting quietly by the lake. my state of mind is meditative and i watch calmly at the patterns of sunlight playing on the rippling water. when i was younger i used to delight in the fact that certain drugs made everyday realities seem idealized like in a movie. i realized that the idealized nature of things is always present and it's merely a matter of perspective that allows me to find that beauty. i find a secluded enough seat and just sit in silence. i close my eyes and take in the sounds all around me. birds to my left. the buzzing of a bee behind me. the rapid low frequency swoosh of a speeding metro to my right. muted conversations from a distance. it's all quite nice. eventually i hear the approaching voice of a young girl trying to get the attention of the adults she's with. as they get closer i can hear their accents. they sound like recent immigrants from india. and the girl's pestering assertions and questions remind me vaguely of myself when i was that age. i'm sure i was quite annoying to be around as i always had loads of questions regarding the most obvious things. perhaps it's this tendency of mine that's put a damper on my own perceptive abilities, most specifically those involving human interaction. i get up eventually so i won't be late for practice but stop briefly to watch some bumblebees feeding on these strange flowers. the entire plant is a pale green and is coated in white hair that makes it seem like it's covered in frost. the flowers are tiny and pink-purple, shaped vaguely like orchids, but arranged in conical clusters. i'm amazed by the skill with which the bees feed. a complex almost geometrical web of motion plays out in front of me as the bees jump from flower to flower, plant to plant, never wasting too much time on a flower that lacks what they're looking for. i feel an urge to grab a bee and feel it's fuzzy body but stop short. i say goodbye to my telepathic geese on the way out and proceed to watch a family of people on my way back to the car. a guy is carrying a baby on his shoulders. he stops in the middle of the park and turns around proudly to display this kid to the rest of the family. they burst out in giggles. i too smile discreetly. i get to my car and finish off the contents of my pipe totally unaware that a middle aged guy is suiting up for rollerblading right behind me. the puffs of pungent smoke creeping out my car window. when i realize i could've been watched i hatch a plan that would in theory prevent him from seeing my license plate. i think this probably drew more attention to me as i sped away down the winding road, past the industrial park and the railroad tracks. there is a certain mystique to this artifical lake. my cousin and myself discovered it many summers ago by accident on one of our biking expeditions. in that sense i feel a sort of ownership for the place. i go there only when i want to feel truly alone. yesterday for the first time in many years i felt the excitement of summer once again. it's a good feeling. despite my usual lethargic pace with life i feel like this will be a good summer. i have new friendships to foster and old ones to reinforce. i'm really happy with the energy in my band who are also my best friends. most days i sit and whine and feel like things could be better. then there are rare instances like these that inform me to the contrary of my usual worries.

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Tuesday, June 21st, 2005
3:32 am
it's been a warm day full of positive encounters with people. my friend j has moved back from seattle and i got to spend time with him tonight. we listened back to some of the things i've done and he seemed quite happy with the work i've done and had ideas on how to make it better. i can't wait to start collaborating with him again and hopefully take it past the point of experimenting merely for the sake of it. and i got an e-mail which i have been reading over and over again. it is now time for some much needed sleep.

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Monday, June 13th, 2005
9:57 pm - the ritual murder of nostalgia
service tag industry workstation 2 technical production prototype engineer duane robot-o with the deviant septum drowns in nectar oozed from his overactive sinus simulation device. cash refund for free caffiene and a packet of supari. everything that is ultimately injurious to your health is certified by independantly owned facts, their contents under pressure. slide card here then select or adjust (+ -) to taste.

provolone priests in crater based chapels and pornographic priestesses conduct orgies with leper messiahs. their contingents of killer bees trapped in wayward surveillance cameras flattening the affect, losing the perspective, overemphasizing certain colors and ultimately masking the surreallity of your last time.

and you really believe that everything will fall into place after this? face the reality of your nonsense with gossamer veils of tissue and tangled pearl necklace tentacles of unnamed underwater creatures. the radial symmetry of the pulsing sea orchid a mouthwatering mimicry of the sun. a distant star with a voice like your melting heart. flickering fast undulations of zooplankton like the jerky motions of spermatocytes under the scope reveal the ultimate sameness of life: the ritual cannibalism of neighbor, friend, and the temporary provider of solace. eventually shitting the remants to diffuse into the overwhelming ocean of the past. never look back or you will become as useless as a figurine made of salt, melting in the first rain

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Sunday, June 12th, 2005
2:12 pm
dreams of armageddon at beltway plaza mall. and breaking the neck of my guitar in an outburst of rage designed to give my guitar some cool scars. almost getting a cheap looking overpriced cellphone at the burning mall. playing a show in my living room to an odd contingent of friends from all over my past that wouldn't acknowledge my presence. dn teaching me how to properly play a guitar with a swaying neck (it's all about perfect pitch.) and finally waking up to kylie minogue's 'love at first' sight stuck in my head which totally negates the apparent darkness of my dream life.

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Saturday, June 11th, 2005
5:01 am
many permutations of the same chord progression spill from my bony fingers weakly strumming to the delay trying to conjure up a rhythm i lack the dexterity to properly play while i randomly bend the strings. a sound simultaneously falling away and towards a simple counterpoint. the point being to highlight the melodic possibilities caused by a set of digital processes that make the sound swell in vague relationship to the original rhythms. music for embryos or alternately ghosts. which really doesn't make it music at all if you think about it.

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Friday, May 27th, 2005
3:24 am - the inevitability of your invisibility (an experiment in sample and hold writing)
outside the burn ward: the pungent odor of the burnt flesh of a new patient. a nervous flutter to block out imaginary dust: imagined irreversible mutilations that lie behind the double doors.

mild insomnia leads to a prolonged hypnagogic episode: phosphene blue angels dance among windswept wild flowers. an old lover visits in the form of a succubus. i lose my mind in the pianospan park. a crushed half valium and a rinse of water to get the chalky taste out. the brighter it is, the colder it seems.

i sleep inside a silent dream. before the plane crashes, i move to the nose of the aircraft to ensure i'm the first one to die. i feel my body fragment. death feels remarkably relaxing. a slow and graceful extinguishing of the nervous conflagaration.

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Tuesday, May 24th, 2005
3:33 am - scenario
a priestess in pornographic seclusion. connected to the masses by highly dithered images. she quietly bears the grotesque sequences of tasteless words flung her way knowing all along that she is a receptacle for the sorrows of strangers. her body shifts through various stylized postures under a green light. the distorted shadows of her body seem to sing. a weeping chorus of geometric melancholy.

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Monday, May 23rd, 2005
2:59 am - sample
what I feel is still warm like i was watching death in your powder box mirror. and the scent of flowers mingles with the beautiful amber. it sticks to my lungs, they spasm in the cold: a pair shivering wings. they burn like I once did, black and rotten like your precious face glowing.

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Thursday, May 19th, 2005
9:05 pm - for 50 bucks a week i can render your reality an endlessly bizarre dream
the only catch is you are stuck with your constantly surfacing strange thoughts and the inevitability of your invisibility. strange unsmiling women wearing bonnets and their preternaturally blonde 'angel' kids. feel like there is a recent increase in bonnet sightings at my work place. also lithe tennis players in town for some tournament...rendered wallaceian by my mind (hal incandenza and the eta gang perhaps...share a joint with me behind the dumpster.) knowledge on the relationship between slamming doors and doormats reinforced in conversation. extreme restlessness and desire to go home and work on something meaningful...meaningless --->>> meaningful.

'accept your accidents as hidden intentions.'

(reverb is diffusion...in reverse it synthesizes a new distrete event that is at best an impression of the original sound source. compression can be an autoclave. in certain scenarios it can synthesize new rhythms. and any sound making devise can be an instrument. even the surface of the earth. or your palpitating heart.)

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