You shot me
through the side of my eye,
those few days back.
From distance.
Naturally.
Blood welled up
in my heart.
My mind ran and ran and ran.
Came first down the dogs, actually.
And then I died around an hour later.
Now the blood is all gone...freeze-framed to a once-magnificent tiled floor.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Seemless...
Perhaps it's just me, but
nothing ever really
seems
to seem
as it seems,
or at least as it
should
seem.
Does that seem right to you?
nothing ever really
seems
to seem
as it seems,
or at least as it
should
seem.
Does that seem right to you?
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Ninety Three...
...You would have been.
But then you still are...in my mind, at least.
But then you still are...in my mind, at least.
Sat here in the back draft of some old theatre in Indianapolis, drums checking and ol' cotton mill blues and Augustus Pablo smoking through the PA. Daily.
Still sad, sometimes happy, generally a little lost, but still.
Here's to you...then and now, wherever you may be.
I love you.
Always...
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Monday, February 8, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Hello, it's me...still.
Stepping out on the balcony, overlooking Vernon/Borden to the right, Empire State to the left, the sun sank into a muted blaze of old Iranian pink and rosey grey suede to the West.
Same sky,
Same time,
...Same shit; back when I left you for the last time.
Seven years all the same now.
Cigarette at an end, but no, my phone didn't ring. Full signal too.
You, of course, were there.
But all had gone...
...including you.
And as I walked back up Blakenham, eyes planted up into the celestial ether, I knew it...
That was it.
That's it.
Did you know?...that...
I knew?
I sincerely hope so.
And I miss you terribly...still.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Saturday, December 26, 2009
As if I ever really needed a reason...
It simply has to...just...be.
And that's it.
Three hours and 59 minutes after the almost-same-day-each-year ceased to be, I have silence.
Well, kind of. I guess you could call it a peace, some sort of peace, in pieces as rare as they come. Yeah, people pay top dollar for that shit, or at least so I'm told.
Outside on fizzy, wet black Metropolitan, the sidewalk has changed; everything's melting down - both literally as well as figuratively speaking.
Everything's changing and changed...almost there, kids! All aboard!...
When we got back in from Tel Aviv the other night there...what was it: Monday?
Anyway, the sidewalk was dry and iced. Long lines of uncut blow piled high from curb to sewers...choreographed mess, if you will, beautiful like the clouds going into Osaka in August.
Equal measures of lengthy cigarette ash banks layered alongside the Charly...for sure it was some sight. Dirty and poetic, one could say.
Blue, but not ALL blue, my friend Facebook'd me earlier. "ALL was so last year," they said...and I still believe that.
Phonecalls to London, texts to NY, Milan and back to NY, emails West, South America...just for festive politeness, you understand, and then...silence.
In pieces.
Okay, so a little sadness thrown in for good measure, but only a wee dram. Equally, key catalytic inspiration and hope via Vermont, Jim Kerr and Andrei Tarkovsky...while Herbert provides soundtrack unknown. But what about scanning that thing there for tattoo man tomorrow?...you reckon on the left side of the chest, huh?
Everything makes sense now.
Doesn't it?...
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
And that's it.
Three hours and 59 minutes after the almost-same-day-each-year ceased to be, I have silence.
Well, kind of. I guess you could call it a peace, some sort of peace, in pieces as rare as they come. Yeah, people pay top dollar for that shit, or at least so I'm told.
Outside on fizzy, wet black Metropolitan, the sidewalk has changed; everything's melting down - both literally as well as figuratively speaking.
Everything's changing and changed...almost there, kids! All aboard!...
When we got back in from Tel Aviv the other night there...what was it: Monday?
Anyway, the sidewalk was dry and iced. Long lines of uncut blow piled high from curb to sewers...choreographed mess, if you will, beautiful like the clouds going into Osaka in August.
Equal measures of lengthy cigarette ash banks layered alongside the Charly...for sure it was some sight. Dirty and poetic, one could say.
Blue, but not ALL blue, my friend Facebook'd me earlier. "ALL was so last year," they said...and I still believe that.
Phonecalls to London, texts to NY, Milan and back to NY, emails West, South America...just for festive politeness, you understand, and then...silence.
In pieces.
Okay, so a little sadness thrown in for good measure, but only a wee dram. Equally, key catalytic inspiration and hope via Vermont, Jim Kerr and Andrei Tarkovsky...while Herbert provides soundtrack unknown. But what about scanning that thing there for tattoo man tomorrow?...you reckon on the left side of the chest, huh?
Everything makes sense now.
Doesn't it?...
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
From Tuesday 7th August 2007...
Moleskine & Stuff...
Seven or so months ago, I found myself aimlessly wandering the winter-frosted streets of Berlin; cold as hell and not really sure of where I was headed. Drunken-minded, I'd left my supposedly reputable guide to the city in the toilet of some random Moroccan-named bar I had just exited, so any further course of direction seemed totally futile.
Taking wrong turns off of various wrong strasses, even jumping the wrong U-Bahn, I was truly lost. Thankfully, I passed a brightly-lit bookstore, minutes away from closing, and somehow managed to cajole the kind owner into allowing me in to purchase a life-saving guide book - my only means of getting home without spending an arm and a leg on cabs.
Fate must have had its fat, sticky fingers in what happened next; an unassuming black leather notebook almost beckoning me to give it a good home. As I was soon to discover, this was no ordinary notebook. Sure, it was made by Moleskine, the Milan-based home of world-renowned notebooks used, over the years, by anyone from Apollinaire and Van Gogh to Picasso, Sartre, Hemingway and, more recently, Bruce Chatwin and Luis Sepulveda.
But this was something very special - unique in fact: a guide to your chosen city, complete with street maps, transportation networks, blank pages to note your favourite places and even your own itinerary section. Essentially, all of the key ingredients for the traveller to create their own personal guide to their respective destination and, subsequently, their own story of high times and adventure recorded for posterity. A treasure simply not granted via your average rough guide.
But then it was only a matter of time before Moleskine dreamed up such a worthwhile idea, now covering anywhere from London, Paris and Barcelona to New York and San Francisco, while guides to Chicago, Seattle and, of course, Los Angeles are due in the autumn.
If that wasn't enough, Moleskinecity.com invites writers, artists, travellers and free-thinkers the world over to share stories, experiences and general interesting stuff via the site's regularly updated City Blogs.
"The first idea for City Notebooks came from the fact that you simply can't offer tips on the top ten things to do, spots to see or places to go, to different kinds of people or needs," says Maria Sebregondi, VP of Moleskine Brand Equity and Communications in Italy.
"Moreover, in a world changing so fast, guidebooks can't be really updated, unless you do it personally, browse the web or are constantly exchanging information with friends. That's why we thought of something both analogue and digital: a guidebook still to be written, interfaced with the web. The new City Blogs of moleskinecity.com are a meeting place open to sharing and participation."
www.moleskinecity.com
POSTED BY SWAX T. MCIVER AT 1:10 AM
Seven or so months ago, I found myself aimlessly wandering the winter-frosted streets of Berlin; cold as hell and not really sure of where I was headed. Drunken-minded, I'd left my supposedly reputable guide to the city in the toilet of some random Moroccan-named bar I had just exited, so any further course of direction seemed totally futile.
Taking wrong turns off of various wrong strasses, even jumping the wrong U-Bahn, I was truly lost. Thankfully, I passed a brightly-lit bookstore, minutes away from closing, and somehow managed to cajole the kind owner into allowing me in to purchase a life-saving guide book - my only means of getting home without spending an arm and a leg on cabs.
Fate must have had its fat, sticky fingers in what happened next; an unassuming black leather notebook almost beckoning me to give it a good home. As I was soon to discover, this was no ordinary notebook. Sure, it was made by Moleskine, the Milan-based home of world-renowned notebooks used, over the years, by anyone from Apollinaire and Van Gogh to Picasso, Sartre, Hemingway and, more recently, Bruce Chatwin and Luis Sepulveda.
But this was something very special - unique in fact: a guide to your chosen city, complete with street maps, transportation networks, blank pages to note your favourite places and even your own itinerary section. Essentially, all of the key ingredients for the traveller to create their own personal guide to their respective destination and, subsequently, their own story of high times and adventure recorded for posterity. A treasure simply not granted via your average rough guide.
But then it was only a matter of time before Moleskine dreamed up such a worthwhile idea, now covering anywhere from London, Paris and Barcelona to New York and San Francisco, while guides to Chicago, Seattle and, of course, Los Angeles are due in the autumn.
If that wasn't enough, Moleskinecity.com invites writers, artists, travellers and free-thinkers the world over to share stories, experiences and general interesting stuff via the site's regularly updated City Blogs.
"The first idea for City Notebooks came from the fact that you simply can't offer tips on the top ten things to do, spots to see or places to go, to different kinds of people or needs," says Maria Sebregondi, VP of Moleskine Brand Equity and Communications in Italy.
"Moreover, in a world changing so fast, guidebooks can't be really updated, unless you do it personally, browse the web or are constantly exchanging information with friends. That's why we thought of something both analogue and digital: a guidebook still to be written, interfaced with the web. The new City Blogs of moleskinecity.com are a meeting place open to sharing and participation."
www.moleskinecity.com
POSTED BY SWAX T. MCIVER AT 1:10 AM
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