tribal connection

we've seen three continents together.. so long old friend.. (2001-2008)

yeah.. i'm a hustler baby..

the wizard

i am the wizard...the...hush...awkward hawk-eyed wizard...
who's melancholy state of stubborn shows him the hard place up close
and conjures a lucid quandary...
the dreamiest paranoia....
where's the rock...the rock...i want to fix the rock..
talk it into being my pal...
better yet my indolent solid stood apprentice...
but thanks, but no thanks...but...there is no rock...
just me...and my gloomy hand-carved hard place...
no student...no new chew toy
for my bootleg hug and kiss to tear in to ribbons...
worst of all...all my fuss and careful obsessing...frivolous...
it gets painted over with lacking and stuffed...grotesque with missing...
now fruitless...
i set meticulously sharpened traps...for bugs
with ferocious little mechanised insect crippling jaws...
and throw away my junior wizard cap and wand...
these pupils will be dinner and hopefully cephlopods...

now i can smile at the cut out moon and pretend...hardcore...
it's comical and made of cardboard...
in a while i scamper in its film about my quarters
collecting all the intricate sprung death bundles and free
the teeny-weeny thinga-magiggers...
dropping them in their bruised seeping abdomens into a jar...
one by...one...

brrrmeow

i miss you tiva..

god damn

"i'm the gg allin of this shit" she says before smashing a wine bottle into a million pieces. and so begins another week. a token of summer's end like a smooth descent into the colors of fall. the sun used to set behind the stadium, now it sets behind the abandoned projects once again robbing from our skyline. it's cool out at night and my dreams are intense. i like to hide out during this time of year and take a camera for a walk robbing the souls of those i pass. as it it were a sine wave the craziness of the city holds it's energy below neutral and us tribesmen walk our own paths for a short while. although it is a short while for some, other walk a longer path some never to return for a very long time. but the city waits and listens. and a bottle is smashed to pieces in front of the verona. my bike lay in temporary ruin in the foyer and i am outnumbered in the land of a different tribe. her friends circle me like im a foreigner. some offer an open hand and some spit at me with their eyes. we look different. what are our intentions? but a hatchet is burried in the form of a half full bottle of red wine and all night we sink together. at any small point i wonder how much closer we're getting to the end. how much juice the sun's batteries have left or if anyone knows which wire to cut when the volcanoes self-detonate. during the winter where i live there is a man who sings the same song every night in the bus stop. he asks the universe, "why do we fall in love?" and it makes me wonder if life and love both function upon the same forces are they not both one and the same after all?

Húu

Húu who?

tonite, tonight, what'll it be tonight?

thats the kind of motivation i need. a shirt to wear my colorfulness of actions or a silencing clean white. a wizard cap and wand. tossed in your surroundings, shuffling the stars, don't ever forget how crazy you are. zooted are the backs of my eyes - this is why i don't take midday naps.

now it's morning again at 5:54 pm.

<"+++><

a silencing that still haunts the streets

georgian bay

died April 15, 1902
lived 24 days