importance in the form of people

The Resurrectionists are a band out of San Clemente, CA that i've had the pleasure and privilege of sharing a stage with a handful of times. they are all brilliant guys and as far as i'm concerned, the most important band i know right now. do yourself and go to one of their shows and experience them live.

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unclear

band aid girls
bend the rules
of ceremonious trites
and meant to be's

stale crates
full of blurry polaroids and miniature pets
we gave names and split the house
without cards or sleeves

this is what we foresee
and continue to earn
held close to hurt
to be born another wound

you're a maze, less amazing
living short stories out of conversations
we shared attempt-
fingers worn like notes i couldn't play

i'm with the park bench people
wallflowers and bar corners
strange like the company kept
or the uninvited fatherers

these are babymaking days
men of morsels
or better yet-
we never quite made mountains
out of meant trails.

even still...

every day we don't talk
is one day closer
to feeling like myself again.

and knowing you won't call
makes it that much easier
to expect anyone to miss me
et al.

stale skates

we used to clip our nails
and sift through dusty worn out sleeves
looking for that perfect soundtrack to our
best written version of our lives

i'd write liner notes to your approval
swarms of pastebins and scrabble inspired breach
shared baths and inched admiration

droves of metallic bands and wet paint
here lies the last of the galvanizing head hunters
i could never have been so close to expect retracted inhibition

the pastors have all gone to lunch
and the ideas of an arranged coexistence
salt on your shoulder
sweat on your binds

we wrote the letters
we took back the novels
and rearranged the furniture
clothes in trash bags
cut tongues and noteworthy feet forward mute locks

divvy up the dance hands
jackal bartered beer bellies
and shock put ankles

we'll all walk away from these things
well read and got it all figured up

procurements for the stag dads
bookishly well esteemed pebble drifters
kicking away at the dust clouds.

another familiarity

uneven palpitations

this is a hoax

used.

after having a pint at a local bar the other night i started to think about a handful of places that have come and go, only to be revamped under new management, even though it's pretty much the same concept (or far stretch from the previous).

i find myself regularly calling these places 'used to be'-

i've been around so long that i still call costco, price club, and still think may company and walker scott's.

it just struck me as odd that i never really learned or acknowledged these new establishments, and wonder if one day we'll be referred to as an afterthought.

speck.

today i lose again. and nothing could make things better or worse than knowing that the fight i've fought was nothing less than a second rate emotion that no one cares to acknowledge.

mock prine

short-lived fancy from a freelance purveyor.

i'm an abandoned tray fill, perverse fort cross-
fame-tinged tremolo kick, 
canned for nitpick'ed and filtered trash talk.

swash and swim, buttoned down for the winter. 

we all take turns shifting grocery tangents and mock tile aversions. 
shift change, 
hula hip----

trans-vent ceo's and celibate thoughts, 
staggering lines, last before first, 

farewell badgery, no wears for thing wavering. 

untied shoes and callous hands, 
smoke befitted gallants and trim trunks of treasuries unfounded. 

oh we shave our beards and board our balances, 
true unto true face, festered with the reminder that fallacies weigh more 
than we could ever slate. 
clean slate. 
clean slate. 
clean slated periphery.

louis ck is still my favorite comedian (as of the last 5 years)

today feels broken.

happy anniversary Port Brewing & Lost Abbey!

some of my favorite beer & people!

chartered from the remnants of our survivalist fits.

' i.

love.

crazy.

chicks.'

she smiled speculatively, and took a sip of her bourbon.

'but i'm not crazy.'

i can't pretend to know you, anymore.

i can't pretend to know you anymore.

i read more about you and what you write more than conversations or appearances may provide.

i'm just an onlooker, still admiring, still piecing myself together.

and you are unavailable, in the sense that you have no time for me.

so let's stop bargaining chips and call it what it has been.

a passerby.

no more quotations, exclamations, hyperbole, excuses, partitions, wanderer's remorse.