The Trickster's Journal
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Friday, December 21, 2007
1:01PM
Sometimes I say something that I mean, but it turns into a lie anyway. It can't be that uncommon.
My heart is lost. He's somewhere in the jungle in a bamboo cage. He's a forgotten prisoner of war. He's learned to enjoy the taste of gruel and the stink of his own filth in the absence of hope. Back home they buried an empty casket for him long ago. The prayers stopped, and his wife remarried.
I'm starting to think our failure is part of the process. It must be.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
2:23AM
The heater whirs, the rain drips. Travel anxiety. Usually sleep is the most welcome part of my day, but the clock goes tick tick tick and the moth crunches pancake dust and cold sock dinner. At night the house lets out a deep sigh and Vancouver bats a hundred weary yellow eyes but the sound drops dead into water. The city is quiet and empty, except for the water and my anxiety.
Right at this very moment something stupid and senseless is happening in someone's life. Somewhere close someone's heart is breaking a little, just because. A poem is becoming worthless. A bad day is getting worse with each petty little insult reality hurls. A boil upon a boil, a sore throat and canker sore with a hard bit tongue.
So a man collapses in the street wearing a second hand auto shop jacket and sneakers with the seems busting loose. No one looks but someone with no teeth pulls the shadow of a baseball cap over their eyes and tightens a tourniquet. The cold water in the street soaks into the man's jeans. Slowly he shuts down from the outside-in, shaking all the while, capillaries recoiling from the water. As his heart pushes out its last few beats he asks himself, "why?". But no one answers, and in the morning a car comes to take the body away. His left sneaker waits behind like a blank road sign.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
8:48PM
The snow flakes began to plump with moisture, and the morning rang with sirens, each calling out a story of anonymous misfortune. The obese balls of precipitation burst into rain and the cars continued to slide and crash. My worn shoes yielding little traction on the compacted slush, and I hopped and bobbled, danced, slipped, and waddled up the hill, I was like a chubby kid with a peg leg gleefully fleeing the shortbus. My foot fell into ice water and god's slurpee of malaise poured through the holes in my shoe.
A brit with a quirky eye said something about the shit the world was taking on us. He sounded like Ringo Star but looked like John Malkovich.
Then there was a man on the corner in an orange hoodie and jeans in the sleet. His face bent with the pain of the cold, he was crying. His hand was twisted out from his side clutching a baseball cap, his fingers were purple and his knuckles were white. He kneeled barely moving, lit by neon and department store windows. Women with bags made of heavy pastel paper, each laden with holiday chear, flowed around him like the rivers flooding the city's gutters.
When I passed the corner again he was gone. His knees left two thawed marks on the sidewalk.
The ticket was soaked, it stuck in the machine, the bus driver grumbled, but I stayed. For five or so blocks he noted to the vehicle's new arrivals that they couldn't get a transfer, "that kid in the grey jammed it". The looks were dirty, like the crap on the pavement.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
10:02AM
There's a sprinkling of snow. The heat isn't on high enough. Today is for painting in a bundle of blankets, maybe the snow will act as a buffer from the world.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
11:03AM
Everything stays the same. The past, present, and future flicker like fireflies over the weeds and spent hay fields, on and on, off and on. Memories resign themselves to the past. Here, a blue eyed girl, green, rain. Another, with the universe nestling like a new born calf in the reflection on her green iris, the wind outside, the palms of our hands. There's blood in there, and needles, razorblades, a hundred diffrent white, pink, and green powders, a teal tablet like a split pea. Prayers, echoing unheeded, lofting in space, and others so carefully determined. But somehow, everything stays the same, everything is equal, and the heartache and exultation will go on existing autonomously.
So what now?
Saturday, November 10, 2007
11:02AM
Faith is what keeps me standing, what keeps me with my chin just above the crest of the wave. Maybe I've found god. I don't think so, but I think I've found something. Maybe I've just found doublethink.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
4:10PM
A stomach full of drunk bees.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Sleep, uncomfortable dream, toss bed,
Caffiene, twice, lift, move, wake, repeat,
Cigarette, cigarette, nicotene, repeat,
Opium, herbs, god medicine,
Repeat,
Crave, open mouth, salivate,
Crave, stiff leg, twisting arm, metal rod neck,
Wakefulness, resilience, constitution, cotton ears,
Repeat.
Monday, September 17, 2007
10:50AM
There's a hole in my house. Right through the whole damned wall. I noticed it less when it was warm. But now that little hole is making this room mighty cold, and I still don't want to take the time to repair it.
Monday, September 10, 2007
1:34AM
What is this perpetual dissatisfaction?
A higher power would give me something to blame it on.
How has life so effortlessly lost its profundity?
I'm staring blankly forward and the colour of it all is grey. Warm red and purple hues shift in the haze. A sharp breath inward, pleasure, bliss, all false and fleeting. Momentary relief. The roar of static with a yellow accent, sharp pain, burning, rusting, fading again. More grey, more elusive joy, a thousand more tiny boils. The sum of it all is nothing, a grotesque smudge at best. Something deep inside of me murmurs that somehow it will be worth it. I fucking hope so. If it isn't, atleast I won't ever really know it.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
11:08PM
Tick tick tick tick.
That clock could bore a hole straight through my brain.
Are things looking up yet? I'm not sure.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
2:38PM
My heart just doesn't know what to do anymore. Its at odds with all things sane. Its so tangled that even love might just feel like a crocodile death twirl, I wouldn't know for sure. Its pulled to each corner of the continent, tossed like leather on a foot ball field, buried, knotted, pretzeled, inflated, glorified, humiliated, blind, swollen, heralded, and molded all over again into some semblance of what it was supposed to be.
There's a field inside of me today. The grass is green, there's butterflies and the most perfect blue sky, there's an apple orchard, bales of hay, a red tractor leaning ever so slightly in a patch of alfalfa. There's birch and pine shooting into the heavens. There's clouds spaced so precisely, so soft and warm, that maybe they could have been painted. But it all evades observation. It exists centerless. Om.
My molecules are forgetting themselves. I try to hold them still, in place, but they burst outward effortlessly. Everywhere at all once. There's words which have no sound, no form. Everywhere all at once. Om.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
5:26PM
I don't know how I'm going to survive this week. I need cigarettes. I can't even get to a store to buy them.
I mean, what exactly am I supposed to be doing?
It sure is pretty here.
But goddddammmnit I've been here a few hours and I'm already going a little nuts.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
10:36AM
uhg...
This place is just immersed in crap.
I have to clean it.
Going to seattle to go to maine tommorow. 12 hours of travel probably, atleast. I love my grandma and all but god why? Out to the middle of nowhere with family and facades.
Its just no good.
I need something that'll put in me in a coma for a couple weeks.
Or the rest of my life.
...
Goddamnit life is so tiring sometimes. It seems like it should be easier but it isn't and probably never will be.
Mehhhh...
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
1:27PM
Canadian ice cream trucks play a really haunting tune. I don't recognize it but it always gets stuck in my head and it gives me the willies.
Its too bad life is all about making choices because I really can't decide.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
11:53AM
Puerto Viejo is about as close as I've seen to heaven on earth.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
11:58AM
There's never enough time to see everyone in Seattle, and I think even if there was there's almost no way I could and not feel like I was doing something wrong.
Friday, July 6, 2007
12:19PM
For some reason there's no way this bus ride can not terrify me. Its not like its so bad or anything, but I'm really looking forward to teleporters.
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