yeah.

sup bro?
hey man
you good?
man, i feel amazing
yeah, i can see that. you listening?
nope, and i never will
set an example. you do everyday what we're all trying to stop
so?
yeah. whatever

word safari

reach
around the hope of
facilitating a passion
fiction
next to syllabus
you do the things that need to be done
quick information
lasting change
upsets you
take a stand
caution
equal responsiblity
positive
furthering education
lights
envision the world
place ourselves
special thanks
bounce light
knowing who you are and what you can do
control of your destiny

10 narrative ideas

events from history:

vietnam war
hippy era
9/11
columbine/virginia tech shootings
the rise of punk rock in the 90's

personal events:
my horrible summer
discovering how to attain happiness
losing innocence
losing friends
knowing your real friends

untitled

my breath escapes in ragged bursts
the skin ripples and shines
and I; i battle steel
clink clink clink as i pump my burden up
and down
up and
down
i defeat it; i beat it down
it pleads for mercy; i show
no quarter
foreseeing its demise: devious lowblows attempted
devious lowblows parried, and i strike back; hard
a finishing blow
the end of a battle, but the signal of a war
i let the barbell fall to the rug,
remove my armor.
i stroll outside, letting a ciggarette calm me
my battle fervor ebbs
i grin

let's don our google goggles

google;

giving useless insight
otherwise uneeded
obliges us with knowledge and filth
grants the wisdom of pure numbers
lays bare the secrets of life
enable your cookies!

descent

falling;
ma's eyes balling;
rest.
a summer spent falling deeper and deeper
into blackness that would do nothing
but devour the lives of angels and men
as god watched helplessly and wept.
i stagger about the room,
flailing limbs searching for the loving reprieve
of the lamp switch, but the only thing to be seen
is the swaying red cherry of a cigarrette
i swing my arms crazily, my screams escalate,
fury awakens
i am a trapped rat, but my disease-ridden paw
lands itself on the doorknob, miraculously
the cigarrette falls to the floor

mantra

what makes me feel wierd about being wierd? nothing. i am my own odd, abnormal 17-year old teenage boy. everything i do is performed with unwavering purpose and a deep, deep love for humor and making others uncomfortable. long live wierdness.

the gap

i once met a heroine addict. i know a few, actually, all in varying degrees of addiction or rehabilitation. addicts truly are not uncommon; one must simply peel away the rotting layers of the suburbs, digging deeper into the heart of society, as more horrors are unearthed and the putrid stench of shit and could've rear thier mottled head. everyone is inherently selfish, content to take and take and take, and things'll never get better. like a used needle, society has begun to oxidate, sitting in a murky puddle of it's own tossed-out ideals and fantasies, rotting away even as it feels the warm, comforting wave seep into its very veins. innocence is stripped from children as a junky would relieve an elder of her purse; quickly, unstoppable, and leaving that gaping hole in one's stomach that often accompanies the whims of fate.

stupid kids

there is nothing to say about this image.

(cheating).

this is a black and white photograph of a plump, unknown figure in a wheelchair with a silly mask and hat. it was taken by diana arbus and has no relevance to my life.

a 15 minute college essay

To me, the biggest failure in this life is to live a passive, accepting existence. What is success without determined action and hard work? What is achievement without first breaking norms, escaping the crowd, being different? You don’t know me. You don’t know my story, and you don’t know what happened in the past for me to get where I am at this moment (sitting shirtless with a fan 6 inches from my face, typing this paper and sipping orange soda). Sweetened carbonated beverages aside, why should some shmuck like me be allowed to attend one of our country’s fine centers for higher academic learning? Well, because I belong there.

Learning is my love. Nothing slates my thirst for knowledge better than a superbly answered question that has been gnawing at my strong sense of curiosity for the better half of an Anatomy lesson. I ravage through literature like a masked figure in a girls-only summer camp, eating up pages and chapters, and a well-executed literary trick or a clever bit of irony gives me a satisfying sense of fulfillment like no other. Any subject tickles my fancy: from learning of the tactical formations of the ancient Athenian armies to the kick-ass feeling of nailing an especially quarrelsome algebra equation.

I want my name to be remembered by at least one person as someone who greatly impacted their life for the better, and I believe the experience of college will get me on the right track. I have seen enough people who are merely content to passively float on by, wallowing in drug use or sports or their social lives, but I do not want to spend my life that way. I want to rise above, to prove myself, to brighten people’s lives. I am an academic. I am a goon. I am a friend, a comedian, and a musician. I am the kid who sits at the front of every class, one moment contributing to class and the next proclaiming racy jokes. Take it or leave it.

stranger danger

the stranger twists the knife in the gut of the first victim, a small smile twisting the mouth inside the mask while a small knife twists and tears the gastrointestinal system of the poor man. upon removal of the blade from stomach, a torrent of blood frees itself from his innards as the two-bit security officer slumps to the ground. keys are slipped from his belt as three other strangers slip from shadows and other places unknown. all wear similar garb: a delapitated hodgepodge of ripped sheets, aprons, tabards, and robes. all wear the same headgear: a rumpled brown bag, with eye and nose holes sliced into the front. one mask is bloodied. curt nods of greeting are shared between the siblings, the most emotion expressed amongst them all day. the stranger opens the door.

the crowd's laughter can be heard clearly now, and it slowly expires like a dying wolf in the winter. the strangers compose themselves and walk forward, through the maintence hallway, and the side-door at the end of the hallway is open a mite. the leading stranger opens the door, and the entire stage can be seen now, but from a side perspective. the strangers remain unseen.

the court jester on stage continues immature antics while the king comtemplates uninterestingly and the peasents beg for his favor. they wore drab collections of ripped sheets, robes, and aprons. they donned wrinkled paper bag masks. the scene shortly transitions to the musical's central piece, its stimulating swan song. the peasents prance about the stage. the strangers file onto the stage and remain motionless at the shady back of the stage.

pace quickens as the piece rapidly nears a crescendo of hollywood proportions. the strangers ready thier tools, and paint the town red.

there's a storm a-brewin'

list of interesting prose/poem/lyrical topics:

lost innocence
fighting the "dark side" of one's personality
teenage angst
drug use
alcohol use
teenage drama
horror/gore stories
rape stories
war stories
anecdotes from a crime-ridden, ethnic neighborhood
crime and consequence
becoming a man
beating the system
achieving something in life
living up to expectations
disapointing expectations
how my dog has the most influence in my family
lots and lots and lots of pot
how to roll a good joint
depression
anxiety
hope
curiosity/learning
the freedoms of driving
why driving sucks
fake and real friends
belonging
finding, and attaining, happiness
responsibility
how to steal things
how to pull off any crime
the power of politeness
perception
surrealism
the effectiveness of a well-executed handshake
how a first impression makes all the difference
why should we help starving african children? help the jobless and the addicts
connection through music
the undeniable sexiness of someone who knows how to play a mean acoustic guitar
tattos/piercings
fistfighting
telling if someone is genuinely a good person or not
fuck politics
seeing a friend fall all the way down
watching a friend pull himself up
happiness through a friend's achievement
drug overdose
suicide
emotions
punk rock bands
making rap beats
video games
bb guns
world war 2 action movies
drug use in vietnam
motorcycles (harleys...obvs)
hell's angels
gangs
violence
girlfriends
love
crushes
teenage romance
texting
hitting on girls
helplessness
empowerment
having a job as a teenager
how to hustle money
exactly how to handle the police
the innumerable amount of loopholes and cut-thru's in the american legal system
chubby, polish lawyers
seeing an event from someone else's perspective

the innocence time bomb

a goofy face
no time spent trying to erase iffy deeds and regretful throws
an easy mind;
where the only time that mattered was nap time and
sleeping with a girl meant 28 other children in the room; and
playtimes the only time
kickball? dont whine
four square- watch the line
and freeze tag? all the time
planes are soaring into buildings and the only thing
you will to do is go back home to mommy and
your plastic platoons.
innocence is a precious lense: cherish it
remember when you'd send a handpicked squad of only the finest warriors
into that dreaded room-next-door, that realm of terror,
and getting out with even one bare-skinned barbiedoll was considered
mission success? sisters protest
yet, grenade primed; your happiness timed
it won't be like this forever

To Pharmize

Pharmize- (v)- to degrade something to lower value; to give someone or something less credit than what is due

ex- When Henry learned that when he sold his watch the pawnshop pharmized the watch's value, he was beyond angry.