ill be counting.

i hear footsteps in the living room tile floor. in reality, im alone. sitting, indian style, in the living room on a mattress thats needing to be flipped. sounds reverberate and snowball around this unfurnished apartment. hallucinations are keeping me company. desires and missing wants projected on the walls. im not allowed to fantasize. i get too attached. they become possessions like the buttons on the shirt. then i get hurt when i realize that they were never really mine to begin with. was it ever possible for them to be mine? i couldnt tell you. i was too busy closing my eyes receding into the warmth beneath my eyelids.  people make an effort to pick me up and out of that place. to them, theyre saving me from myself. no one ever stops to think that i might be happier where i am.    thats not always true.
for me, here, where i am in the world, its less than 150min until the new year. 2011. holidays are the same everywhere. you just have to find the right people to spend them with. life is the same everywhere you go. you just have to be there long enough to see it.  i miss home though. whats strange is that there isnt a place called home waiting for me back where home used to be. i think that place burned down along with all the weed and heroin. still.. i miss it. i might not ever see it again until i start to make my own family. maybe thats all that a family really is.. a group of lost human beings looking for their home.  if thats true then i should feel better being close to people..but i dont. people always look and feel better behind the curtain of my mind. they tend to disappoint in person. including myself.  i should get ready to spend this holiday with a bunch of strangers that either like me for me or feel sorry that i have no one to spend to holiday with.   in either case, its nice of them right?

Space and Time will forget about us all.

i love chocolate covered cherries and whip cream. pretty fish scales and lavish dreams. love is a spoonful of virus..not quiet what it seems. fuck smiling at strangers..i wear my heart on my sleeve.  scar tissue tattoos bearing baggage while it grieves. grey clouds with silver linings tearing at the seams.  youll wake up one day without the sun or a reason to redeem anything that you could think to be worthy of a kiss or a scream. bleak, so very cold, full of hate and kinda weak. like living underground as head of a terrorist regime. hold my hand and count to three. i promise this wont hurt, dont be scared youre being greedy. believe. this is me. pretty fish scales and whip cream. fuck smiling at strangers..i wear my heart on my sleeve.

eh. i know its warranted to be labeled as something petty and or some sadly misdirected egoism  but i write because sometimes i feel like the me, in person, isnt enough. as if it were that if i was only the person you saw or heard in person that it would not suffice for a 'complete' human being. there has to be more. 
there is. 
i just havent found everything i need to get it all out. im not even sure what it is i need. which direction in which it could be. this is one of them. or a part of it. 
im high. drunk. and overcompensating. i feel like i could talk about anything. 
the act of reading should be synonymous with mental visualization. the way it does with a decent imagination and a good book. but in a way that would give more control to author over what specific image was seen during certain instances throughout the literature or story. almost the way a monologue narrative introduction does in a film but with words or 'script' visible at all times. 
i have the same thoughts about music. music should be played with synchronized visual effects. similar to the way Fantasia projects music and movement. similar to the way live projections do at music events but with holograms. objects that seems to stretch, bounce or flow along with the music. shapes and scenery that looks tangible but always seems to be just out of reach. a 3d hologram. it could be gooey and dripping at certain times or it could be cute, plastic and cut-out or toy-like. 
id want to be able to control the speed at which the text or holograms are played. sequences of the hologram could be looped. the progressions of the sequence could be mapped out. advancing only from the touch of a button. at my control.  an experience that plays with you. that picks you up and along with the movement of the flow. something seemingly more interactive than a film  but not in reality. its the proximity of the hologram that pulls you into the scene. and the sounds that move snake-like meandering thru the people listening. entering into a ball of life. a sphere of colors, faint memories and ethereal objects.  something that wants you there. something youd miss once it left. a palpable experience stimulated from words, music and holograms. 
the way i see it is that the holograms would be coming from behind me and stretching up and over my head. white smoke could be used as a kind of 3d surface that lingers above and around the audience's head and mine.  
id call it, The Button Keeper. 
moments and memories manifested into a spectacle. all, in some right, my own. but enough of a familiarity for a listener to remember; to feel touch and tapped into recognizing the instance and finding it in there own life. you probably discarded it. but i kept it. ive been keeping it with me ever since. and every time i see it its like im watching for the very first time.  i want you to see it the way i do. if not just once. 


eh, ill probably see someone else do it within my lifetime. and maybe they'd do a better job. 


im just going to put in ink because everyone is allowed to have at least one crazy thought in there head. in the future, private enteties, sectors and possibly governments are going to start buying and taxing for the airspace above their respective territories. and maybe a little further down the line, we'll start selling the airspace as its own realestate. and we'll trade and sell them like stock. who knows, maybe the sky will become its own respective realestate because we'll find a way to start building in the sky.  assuming we, as a race, make it and survive on this planet another 2000 years. 
eh, i think we have a chance prolonging the human species another 2k years. maybe. alan watts said that its only when we accept that it doesnt matter is when theres a chance we might actually do it. which doesnt completely make sense to me  because if we were to accept that an end the human race on this planet is inevitable then we'd probably become more lazy and reckless using the natural resources we have left..which would only speed up the process..
if i were to guess. someone or a group of people will create and produce a highly contagious and deadly virus of some kind with intentions of killing off at least half the global population. 

create the version of yourself that you'd want to be.    


or..  


create the version of yourself that you'd like to see if you were on a late night talk show.