the cosmic lounge (ISS)

We do not determine Space/Time. We are conditioned by them and the Human mind cannot comprehend anything without reference to them.

El Cajon Blvd
University Ave
Those were the main two streets that ran down the central corridor
Of San DIEgo
Two narcotic filled arties
Two gaping wounds
From these two bowl ducts
You could get almost anywhere in town
Get almost anything
And still end up nowhere
Their intersections seethe
With rotting agitation
Like two parallel carcasses laid side
By side
North and South
Running East to West
Two bodies in a grave
Two bullets locked into a chamber
Cars fire down their barrels
At killer speeds
It was easy to get lost on those streets
Hung up
Left for dead
San DIEgo’s mortal tomb
Transplants
Junkies
Faggots
The used
And abused
El Cajon – 'The drawer' en Espanol
University -  An educational institution designed for instruction, Examination
Advanced learning
Well, I got all I could stomach
All I could ‘learn’ From those two streets
To see that The Gateway into San DIEgo
Leads strait into the mouth of Hell.

untitled

What happens when the absence of words takes over? What do you do with all that silence? Do you live inside? How much terrain exists in there? Entire universes? Do you feel like a child again?

It's been many months since my last post and I've had to break my pact with this blog. There have been a lot things going on that I just didn't have the time nor patience to catalog.

I will say that I've grown exponentially - mentally physically, spiritually - i may have just gone through a Kafkian metamorphosis, except I don't have six legs but my eyes are certainly compacted.

I've noticed things I never noticed before, things about myself and the people around me I never realized.

My quest to understand what's out there, the cosmos had led me inexorably back to a place where all things begin, inside our imagination...

...so much so that I'm now considering to write a novel, graphic or just a book.

My roommate is away and I should take advantage of this time.

The bike rests against a wall to my right, below the blackboard. The tires have little air, the single brake cable is shot, and I haven't had a ride in months.

I'll have to fix that.

Summer might be a good time to get out there.

Where The Sidewalk Doesn't End

by Matt Rhodes on Thursday, October 29, 2009 at 9:16pm

Take a walk and look at how scarred the sidewalk is. Whether it's gum stains or blood stains, puke puddles or mud puddles, the urban environment is a textured old skin.

The old patch of concrete outside my door has a history of abuse. Where did this crack begin? Who poured the mortar and who passed out on it last night?

The false permanence of the sidewalk is marked by the only constant that it tries so hard to erase: Nature. Signs of Her are everywhere and she often pokes through in odd places.

The pathways created by humans are linear and worn. What more can we say of the modern infrastructure? Humans have become their sidewalks and alleyways; their worn-out buildings and leaking pipes...

In certain areas, a block of the sidewalk is repaved, but soon it blends in with the surrounding pavement. People live their lives with others or alone...all in a certain fashion, pattern or style, creating a ruckus around them-then they change, and eventually it all blends into the obscurity of/as humanity's mortar.

The sidewalk is often a place of loiter, conversation and intercourse. The sidewalk is filthy place. It is a place transition...

This path of concrete is also a place of delivery, where people arrive or depart from destinations, say hello or say goodbye. It is were some people sleep and wake-up in the morning. Most importantly, it is the place where all things intersect and points of human interaction converge.

Our lives are a host full of coul-de-sacs, bridges and tunnels, intersections and highways. Humans are transient...our lives come to an end someday, but these are things that appear as we get older and we see that the sidewalk doesn't end...

Slave Manifesto

I drive a hybrid but I still drive a car. I live life but I'm not alive unless I spend it away. I'm a carpenter but I'm not Jesus Christ. I'm a dreamer but I'm a nightmare to those around me. I recycle but it still ends up as trash somewhere else. I'm a talker when words won't suffice. I'm an atheist but I have a soul. I live in a house but I'm never home. I seek spiritual wealth and end up monetarily poor. I believe in friendship and honor integrity but I still have reservations. I believe in love but have never loved anyone completely for who they are or were. I breathe in oxygen and when I exhale, I pollute carbon dioxide. I can fix other people's problems but the one thing I can’t seem to fix is my own thoughts at the end of a workday. I eat healthy foods and shit out opinions. I feel but I'm not emotional. I tend to be loud but not overtly misleading. I feel stronger but I'm not better. I think of myself as a conscientious consumer but my choice of products is rather careless. I like to have a few drinks after work (nearly everyday of the week) but I wouldn't call myself an alcoholic. I was angry at a girl who used me but I enjoyed letting myself be used. I care enough but not enough to really truly care.

I am a slave and this is my manifesto.

"Life being what it is...a series of intersecting lives and incidents, out of anyone's control...that taxi did not go by, and that driver was momentarily distracted..."

- Benjamin Button