i had an idea on the train that wont materialize for me again for some reason. I just walked into my room and stood by my window with shades drawn staring at the beige sheet of hard plastic trying to recall exactly what it was. it had to do with the phrasing, thats what made it special, but now it wont come back to me. maybe it is gone forever and maybe its only a momentary loss. i guess it depends if the thought was part of a larger arc of internalizing lessons or if it was passing and superficial. right now I am typing into my blog for the second time in my life and i think it is going smoothly. to soothe my peripheral perceptions i have the tv on to public television, there is an old timey movie on, in color, and it has something to do with making people laugh although it is obviously not funny by virtue of the fact that it is old and the sound is on too quietly. from the kitchen sounds of the new brooklyn realworld blare from tinny computer speakers. thats funny, the visual of an old movie and the sounds of new tv, i guess its pretty old for being new but i would say that the real world is definitely of the new school, its just not an emerging or bleeding edge show. it is not bleeding.  i have to pee. i like doing things when i have to pee, it gives everything a sense of urgency. my left forearm is sore, the veins are popping out to an abnormal degree and it makes me worried for my right arm, which i feel isnt keeping up its muscular developement, but i have no idea how to deal with that. i still want to buy a jump rope and some business cards. if i had spent ten dollars less on coffee and alcohol in the last fifteen days, which is when my desire for these two things first emerged, then i could buy them now and it would essentially be free. i think money was mostly invented for the purchasing of substances that alter the mind state though, thats why the addiction to doing drugs and the addiction to spending money on meaningless and trivial trifling items feels the same. the high is short lived and afterwards you want to eat but dont want to cook. i think i am doing well by myself by not doing too many drugs, i think it keeps me a little bit sharper especially when it comes to communicating, i have been suprised at my ability to speak with other human beings in real time recently and in places where i felt i was due for a major fuck up and consequent time in reflection and self improvement thought i've been met with meaningful and gratifying conversation.

the cold swift water of creative fearful energy surges through the desert of boundless possibility and gives nothing to the shore. it pounds away at the night and plugs away at the day but never for a moment would it change direction and the negativity of the water inhibits me from entering its murky and inky body. the waves and ripples and edges and arches in the river. it is a sharp river and it is an unforgiving river, its flow is swift and it is filled with crocodiles. cold water crocodiles. if it was warm water they would not be so grumpy but you can never trust a crocodile so swimming is out of the question. i have no response and i have no remorse, little recourse and no patience. the show must go on, we must irrigate and canal and dam the damn thing up. i dont see another option, the truth is i barely saw this one and i sacrificed much to reach it, many vague and replacable people and ideas were given to this dream and i will awake with a sore back, to eat the same meal i have eaten a million times before. im not lazy, im industrious and there is plenty to say about that. karmas a bitch, you get what you give, it all equals out in the end. throw me a fucking bone.

Today is just like everyday before it but now I have a voice on the internet and now I must be a new man. This is the internet, this is the future and I am now a part of it. I am the future and gaining from it. My thoughts are yours now and I am happy to let them out and into the world. I am embarrassed now, I cant type as fluently now, I have to make a new language and a new personality to deal with the fact that this is for everybody, my whole heart and soul. I think I want to be an actor, I think I want to be a director I think I want to be a writer but I know I want to get payed no matter what. I got a dunkin' donut muffin and big sugary coffee for breakfast today and I am now gascious like Saturn. I finished my book yesterday and I will pick up another one today. I will take a nap today. I will pick up my check from the catering company today.  I have sent out three resumes today and printed out 18 at the library. I have a jammed toe and it hurts to walk, I am listening to Outkast for the first time since a couple days ago and it is good. It reminds me of a better time. And this brings me to a new point. I got an $86 bill in the mail today from a credit company that I owe money to because I took a bartending class with no money. I took the class for the fact that I was sold it by a slimy and ugly little fat man with a beard, he told me I need breathing room and days off to think about what I really want to do with my life. Oh yes, I thought, Oh yes I need that and I coughed up $800 dollars I didnt have and now two months later I am writing a blog and applying to temp agencies over the phone. No job got got, no interviews were set up and upon visiting those motherfuckers I hear about the woes of the job placement officer, bitch you have a job I dont want to hear about how hard it is, I want a job so I can pay the credit agency that pays you. Fucking trickle down economy, trickle down my leg.  I'm wasting your time I know, I need a nap. But if I ever had advice I would say dont take a bartending class, it is a waste of money and time and spiritual and emotional energy. Check out lose your life on youtube by alchemist, it is nice. 

I need a book deal and I need to move home and be with my mom and my boo. It is pointless here, all I seem to do is not fall deeper in the hole or slip up and fall deeper, running at my fastest just to move the ground beneath me but I never seem to get anywhere. I feel like the ice cubes in a glass, you can spin the glass as much as you want but they never move towards you, you have to walk around to the other side of the glass. And mistakes I've made a few, the New York treadmill. Do I really want to be here for the summer, steamy and hot and with nowhere to swim, if theres nowhere air conditioned to work I will not be here, know that. So its all about me ultimately and what I can do, who I can influence, tricks of the logic even though we all know its not all about logic, switching gears words poems thoughts never ending and nonsensical and just as easily to be judged by the judgmental the only way to be a man is to be both advocate and stern judge stuck and squeezed forward, both the wind, the sail and the keel of your own sailboat together coming to squeeze through the water and cut through the waves pushing on past the shore and past the bridges and past the docks and houses that creep up onto the waterfront, maybe into the cut, maybe just to the northern most tip or maybe to circumnavigate the island. Oh and reading you will inevitably learn alot of words and you will become more strong and more flexible in your speech, even this dribble it is good for you but better for me because I am the creator and final say. I  can say whatever I want but I want to say whatever you want to hear.  I want to be farther out than the farthest comet or planet from the sun, and the scientist might say that there are planets the right distance from the right stars that would be like us, they might be alive like us. Just alive like us and far away, but maybe if we are their dream landing on their planet will wake them and annhiliate us, serve us a sobering reminder of the fact that we dont create we are created. What we consume we are but it might not be digested until you dream it, maybe you dream your food. That is the fuel and we are all only five tanks away from having clean plumbing and running clean but some of us have been running on empty for so long that we dont need nothing but a bowl of rice once a year to dream about the world.  To make a whole world to invent all of space and all of time and smash it with the alarm clock. thank the gods for snooze buttons and door bells that stop ringing after a while. my mail box brings me anxiety and bills, my mail key is tiny so it could fit into my head and open up my skull, reveal my brain and all the places it is probably rotting and all the places it is weak can show you a map of how to attack but dont forget, that underneath the surface I am just one atom, at the very center of my being one cell exists that wont ever go, it is in too deep.