i love, love, love concrete. strong, cold and complete.

   When i was in 8th grade i had a teacher named Mr. Teed. He was the varsity soccer coach and my 8th grade "Bible" teacher. I remember one day i started arguing with him about some very insignificant bit of theology because i had been raised presbyterian and he was a very devout southern baptist. he interrupted one of my objections to something he had said. The reason he stated for doing so was because he had apparently looked up my "file" because i was that big of an asshole already and he had noticed i had an very unusually high i.q. he felt that i should basically "shut up" because someone "as smart as myself" would know they were just being an asshole to fight all the time about things that were by direct inference only there to fight over. why he wanted to teach things that were implicitly meaningless wasn't really as much of an issue to me as the "idea" of my own innate potential.
   Potential. what the everlasting fuck my "potential" means is still almost entirely meaningless to me. i just got home. i was out till almost 5:30 drinking with whomever was willing to be awake and drink with me. i was awake because i get off work at 3 am. i was at work till 3 am because i work in a bar. i work in a bar because i needed some form of a job to pay my bills. i needed a shitty job because i am still in school and my schedule was limited. i am still in school because i can't seem to get a grip and do bullshit undergrad general education requirements. i cant do those because i am as emotionally mature as a 16 year old. im that way because thats when my dad left. i have been doing whatever i could manage to do to keep from dealing with the monotony of life because 16 year olds are that stunted and act in their own self interests and for the sake of direct stimulus, shamelessly. i went to school in europe, montana and even in russia to not just be "myself" and therefore live up to my "potential" but to just as much not deal with how "shitty" and "ordinary" life can be so much of the time. did i mention i went to school in europe?
   yeh, i did that. i went everywhere. i saw better concerts than anyone I've ever met. i stayed in nicer places than any full grown adult i'll ever meet(most likely). i drank more than any such also. I've flown in an airplane over 300 times. i saw a person die. i saw carnival in venice. i saw st patricks day in Dublin. i went to and got bored in the Louvre. i took off half my clothes for a picture in front of the Colosseum. o and i have scars. i have more scars than i have stamps in my passport. i have a million stamps in my passport. I've been to brunch in country clubs former presidents were members of. I've met a fucking former president. i was drunk. i own alot of suits and they all fit fucking beautifully. i know what it is like to win 1-36 at a roulette table in a mafia casino in moscow. I've been part of 8 people fitting into a chicago cab. I've been bitten in a concert. I've been bitten in bed. I've been bitten by a dalmatian not seconds after proclaiming i was a "beast master". I've watched marriages fall apart. I've watched long term relationships fall apart. I've watched classroom discussions turn into fights. I've watched fight's turn into tragedies. I've watched tears well up in girls eyes. I've watched a house catch on fire. I've watched myself like a movie hide a sledge hammer behind my back everytime i was watching everything else, and im sure i was the only one noticing. my guilt.
   yes, mr. teed, i have incredible potential. i do believe you. i do believe the test scores. i do believe all the tests after that. i believe the sincere eyes. i believe the letters.i believe the kisses. i believe the scars. I believe the tears and my entire lack of them, except when i see some commercial or reality tv show or very obvious movie... and all i can think is "why are there tears in my eyes!" i fucking wish i cried. i'd love the catharsis. but honestly why then, why with all this "potential" would i fucking tear up now?! i was the only one there when my grandfather died(the good one), and he said some meaningful things to me. i had nothing.
    I'd believe my "potential" meant i just came full circle to being affected by dumb shit i would normally associate to dumb people that, bless their hearts, wouldn't know better, but thats not true. tonite i stood in the middle of central avenue and took a picture of it with my i-phone. i was standing on the yellow line. there was nothing human and alive around. no cars, no dogs being walked, no joggers. i was alone on central at 5 am, punch drunk and, at 28, living up to my full potential. there is more. i know it. more than a resume of how low a capable person can go, and i am going towards that more. one foot in front of another, slowly down the yellow line, falsely proving my sobriety. for that knowledge and for the promise of my thirties... my potential and i are grateful, with teeth showing, crouched and ready for the pounce. whatever the noise is for a simultaneousness "rawr" and "sigh"... dear reader i assure you, i just made it.

haha fuck, who knows... im going to the bar.

a clean dark, just as nessisary

you you you
unscrew
every single star
burn and bomb
the forests to shards

this is flat ground

this smoke is clearing up

i have this spade, this rake

and a plan.

what a big moon that was!

curl all around, me? yes, me for now.

sometimes its nice to not have to think too much. a great way to accomplish this is get all emo after you've slept straight through the nicest weather Memphis has seen in 2011, realize you feel compelled to skew you decision making process during the course of the fast approaching evening, find some dubstep remixs on  youtube and finally write a love poem with rhyme that you have no intention of rereading or editing before you post. rawr for catharsis!

curl all around
kindergarden love poem for the night


goodbye day star, how warm
you are tip toppling right back
into the cold
the place i keep you.

dear evening, hello
here lets do that secret hand shake
lets high five, and to make it loud and alive
watch each others elbows.

lets play out our rituals
one by one till we've shuffled through
this silly dusk
till we've done them all.

and then i find my shoes
and you'll clear our streets
and i'll push caffeine into my frame
and all the other clues we use for our pet names,

with fall like dusty lions
to this new new courage
and a remix of our song, some dumbstep
of falling boots and lighter clicks.

the small fires, shaking
hands no no trembling lower lips.
dearest evening, dreamy eyes
cut nails and street lights.

we, you plus i
are building another already!
its only been a bed and a night cap
since we buried the last comedic bits of our most recent night.

teeth out and clothes tight.

yay tuesday: a pep talk for midterms week

cut it out.
pull you lips back
down over those sharp explorers
those teeth of yours
rearrange your hair
it's getting ridiculous
and no
you mockingbird
you emotional vacuum
you very deliberate wishing well
theres no crowd
no swarming mass of short breathes and endless approval
no wave machine to constantly lick your shoreline
pick up and move your trash
soften your broken glass
or quickly erase those imbalanced art projects
the drunk version of you thought would pass for sandcastles
your jokes about disposable art are getting old
and if you keep picking fights
with old people
libertarians
the devout
some asshole
collared shirt
truck driver
is going to create new pleats in his khaki pants
as he winds up a punch or does something worse with some random piece of sports equipment
like a bat or golf club
and if you even crack a smirk
thinking to yourself how silly baseball and golf are

im gonna drop you off a curb on the way to school, right in front of some compact car
and send us both to the emergency room.