New York
2003-02-12 20:42:14 ET

(it´s about New York dude)

Well the locals never look up there in much too big a hurry
trying to watch their backs while their off pissing in some doorway
afraid that if perhaps, they are mistaken for a tourist,
that they wind up decomposing in some jersey pine-stub forest
and they come here from the heartland leaving fields of corn and soy
to beat swords out of their plowshares pounding men out of the boys
they live in thousand dollar closets doing something they can't stand
she´s an actress, he´s a singer waiting tables, driving cabs

and I know, that there´s a dream for every rat down underground
and another starving someone everytime you turn around
the city they named twice is more a timebomb than a town

Now the folkies play Manhattan though they all live out in Brooklyn
they come over on the F-train or so I hear I never took one
they play yuppie bars in soho and lesser joints on the east side
where they hope to be discovered by someone other than each other

and I know, that there´s a dream for every rat down underground
and another starving someone everytime you turn around
the city they named twice is more a timebomb than a town

well I packed my Honda Civic and i told my friends goodbye but I can't afford to breathe New York so I stay on the Jersey side
and I come up here from trenton i spend my money on the toll
It´s 3.15 for the turnpike four dollars for the hole
and I pass those Bayonne slumrows thinking my shit sounds the best
because all those goddam folkies come from towns in the midwest
and I come out of that tunnel like Bob Dylan did before me
so I can go up to the Gaslight™ and Jack Hardy can ignore me.

and I know, that there´s a dream for every rat down underground
and another starving someone everytime you turn around
the city they named twice is more a timebomb than a town

2003-02-12 20:30:10 ET

I should try to keep writing.

I always do this to myself - write nonstop for a week or so, and then have a break that's sometimes a day, sometimes a week long.

then I'll just pick it up again.

and I don't think that's "healthy."

Tonight I saw a short film by a sophmore here at school,
(it was good. I've seen a lot worse, story-wise, but I've seen a lot better, production-wise)

and at the end, the audience called for a speech, and he stood in front of everyone and cried, and even said
"we're making films. We're living the dream."

and it just makes me realize how cynical I've become when I can't even understand why someone could get that emotional about the piece of "art" they just made, and how much effort they put into something.

I'm producing a film this semester, that is a 16 minute long music video, made up of 12 short films, each with it's own director and it's own story...
I've been working on it for over a year now...
I've put my heart and soul into it...
but I don't think I could cry because of it.

I don't think I'd even think of saying I was "living the dream" because there's so much life ahead of me, and so much better I could do.
I'm wasting so much of my own time and money on something that probably won't even get me a job, cause I can't show it to anyone, cause I don't have the rights to any of this...

now I'm babbling.
see? this is what I'm saying.
this is where my writing should come from.

or maybe just my cynicism. I often hear about writers being praised for their "biting cynicism" or wit.
I don't think I have either.
my cynicism is more like a blunt tool than a bite.


*sigh*
I really should be sleeping.

is this BLOGing? goddam.

I fall in love with folk music so easily. it's kinda funny.
1:00-1:30
11 comments

why do I feel so old?
2003-02-10 10:45:08 ET

yeah, I was just wondering what the average age is on this site.

cause reading everyone's journals,
and replies,
and general comments on life,

I feel like I'm the oldest one here.

I mean, we're supposed to be child-like, but not child-ish.


damn, I'm cynical.
1 comment

2003-02-09 20:06:09 ET

A poem, by JSP:

We've danced the tango on green cemetery grass.
We have invented things no one, not even us, will ever use.
We have secret codes for the most mundane things.
We have pulled off our skins
and communicated entirely
without words and everything was fully understood.
We have shared secrets that no one knows, and really,
we knew before we told each other.
We have played tag in the space between
the stars and played leapfrog with the moon.
We have climbed redwoods and jumped
off them into shot glasses full of water.
We have dreamed and breathed each other.
So why aren't we fucking?

2003-02-07 06:53:58 ET

last night I had a dream where I was Batman.
I was fighting ninjas if you mus know.
But the funniest part was the end,
where I was pushing through a crowd of little leaguers who were lining up at the sports complex (that’s where the ninjas were) for breakfast.
eventually I returned to the parking lot,
and after I couldn’t find the Batmobile, I remembered that I had driven there in my own car. So I drove home in my Mercury Sable.
1 comment

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