The Longest Story[west texas]eleven

Out in the West Texas town of El Paso
I fell in love with a Mexican girl.
Night-time would find me in Rosa's cantina;
Music would play and Felina would whirl.

Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina,
Wicked and evil while casting a spell.
My love was deep for this Mexican maiden;
I was in love but in vain, I could tell.

One night a wild young cowboy came in,
Wild as the West Texas wind.
Dashing and daring,
A drink he was sharing
With wicked Felina,
The girl that I loved.

So in anger I

Challenged his right for the love of this maiden.
Down went his hand for the gun that he wore.
My challenge was answered in less than a heart-beat;
The handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor.

Just for a moment I stood there in silence,
Shocked by the FOUL EVIL deed I had done.
Many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there;
I had but one chance and that was to run.

Out through the back door of Rosa's I ran,
Out where the horses were tied.
I caught a good one.
It looked like it could run.
Up on its back
And away I did ride,

Just as fast as I

Could from the West Texas town of El Paso
Out to the bad-lands of New Mexico.

Back in El Paso my life would be worthless.
Everything's gone in life; nothing is left.
It's been so long since I've seen the young maiden
My love is stronger than my fear of death.

I saddled up and away I did go,
Riding alone in the dark.
Maybe tomorrow
A bullet may find me.
Tonight nothing's worse than this
Pain in my heart.

And at last here I

Am on the hill overlooking El Paso;
I can see Rosa's cantina below.
My love is strong and it pushes me onward.
Down off the hill to Felina I go.

Off to my right I see five mounted cowboys;
Off to my left ride a dozen or more.
Shouting and shooting I can't let them catch me.
I have to make it to Rosa's back door.

Something is dreadfully wrong for I feel
A deep burning pain in my side.
Though I am trying
To stay in the saddle,
I'm getting weary,
Unable to ride.

But my love for

Felina is strong and I rise where I've fallen,
Though I am weary I can't stop to rest.
I see the white puff of smoke from the rifle.
I feel the bullet go deep in my chest.

From out of nowhere Felina has found me,
Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side.
Cradled by two loving arms that I'll die for,
One little kiss and Felina, good-bye.

Expiedient exaggeration;[A six foot obsession]

i recently finished building a new home for my two bearded dragons, here's the low down.

They both seem very happy in there new space, should be plenty of room for them to spend there lives, or at least until i cant wait to build another one, any reptile or critter lovers reading? need a new set up for half the cost of commercial enclosures, you know how to reach me.

In thE jungle! NYC Pop-Ups

"Designer Daisy Lew created this great series pop-up books inspired by New York City icons, including the Big Apple, the Chrysler Building, a cab, and the Statue of Liberty. Each pop-up, if viewed from the top, represents the icon, and a view from the side represents a cityscape."

That aint a surfin movie*, Architecture or street art?

On my way home from work today i took a bit of notice at some of the more modernized homes and thought about the architecture that went into them, i often think about what i would choose to build given the chance, i try and stay out of the box when i think about it, then i came across this guy who did just that!

-[Bridges and Balloons]-

Now here's someone taking advantage of there time. This really amazed me thought you guys would enjoy it.



Special thanks to
Chuck Sutherland

Old Socks;Basement Files

            Today while working i found some inspiration from my cousin who i don't see often enough but still hold very close. I appreciate his words and his wisdom and this is my thanking him for reminding me how short life is and that every moment needs to be accounted for and enjoyed to its best ability, our lives are what we make them i plan to do great things with mine and the people i have in my life. i hope that over this next year my cousin and i can grow closer again and make more memories together. A Chance to be kids again. Much love Mike.

this is only the start...

My Bucket List

1.Go on a Cruise to anywhere (Alaska is at the top of the list)

2.Go sky diving by myself at least once.

3. Fly a plane.

4. Open an art gallery, even a small one.

5.Land in Spain with only a backpack.

6.Survive the running of the bulls.

7.Make my way through Europe, the right way.

8.Have a Spanish girl steal my shoes.

9. Own a business, or partnership.

10.Sell a painting for $1000 or more.

11.Play music with a favorite musician.

12. Water ski in New Hampshire.

13.Read and own over 100 books.

14.Invent something useful.

15.Complete a wall mural, legal or not.

16.Finish an MS walk, run, or bike marathon.

17.Visit Graceland and Hall of fame.

18.Buy a house.

19.Drive a 1959 Cadillac.

20.Play a show for 1000 people.

21.Finish at least one full arm sleeve.

22.Organize an event for charity.

23.Learn to tattoo well.

24.Learn to speak at least one other language.

25.Buy a dog and name him Jefferson.

26.Own another pair of hand stitched Italian jeans.

27.Drive across the country again.

28.Take a walk through central park during Autumn.

29.Spend a week at Disney World and Epcot Center.

30.Hear my band on the radio.

31.Drink with an Eskimo.

32.Naked sledding in Alaska.

33.Cook a pig in the ground.

34.A keg in one evening between 5 good friends.

35.See the northern lights with Mike.

36.Take Mariah to the Children's museum.

37.Give someone the shirt off my back.

38.Quit smoking.

39.Cook a meal for 50 people.

40. See Chicago and phantom on Broadway.

41.Ride a hot air balloon.

42.Time square New years.

43.Learn to play the Chello.

44. Create a new style of Art or music.

45. Be better at the piano.

46. Make amends with my brother in law.

47. Go snow boarding.

48. Build an entire dining set out of one tree.

49.Write something that moves people.

50.live to see my Children a success.

There's a start . i found this entire thing very calming and relaxing, definitely in a good mind set now.

How Not to be...

"Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior.  You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know.  Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now.  Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles.  You'll learn from them - if you want to.  Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you.  It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement.  And it isn't education.  It's history.  It's poetry."  ~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye, Chapter 24, spoken by the character Mr. Antolini

The American Dream revisited

I try to avoid the news, over the years I have felt that the majority of things our media goes on about is lacking a certain...propreity. and not just our media, our legal system and the kinds of things we spent our time and tax money on are so trivial when compaired to real issues our public faces; education, health care, crime and taxes, our economic situation perhaps.

Instead our court system spends its time and our money on the sillist of things. Kind of makes me want to take a knife and stab it into "the whole idea of itself"
Now that'd be some top news yeah?

Its this sort of stigma that only furthers the views of our country to those around us...



Personally, I can't wait for the movie.


http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/43145411/ns/today-entertainment/

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[ Take 7& edit piece]

Litoria infrafrenata

Backwards Marathon

.Burning like a bridge for your body.

Yeah so im done with that, at least for a while. Ive gone through things and it seems a little rediculous to even think about it, let alone put those thoughts on paper, or in this case the internet for everyone to see. Although there is and always will be a huge story. Im begining to question why i keep all of these things. I mean sure its kinda cool i suppose, to have a box filled with all the memories of a different time. But im starting to feel like the marjority of those memories are not thing i should/ want to carry around with me. So what to do? Im certainly not going to write from it anymore, its all bullshit anyways. I was stupid.(young).
The tattoos, well theres nothing that can be done about those beside extensive laser treatments, not that ide consider it. I have grown very fond of every piece of art on my body, some just remind me how shitty people can really be.
Anyhow, since i will no longer be redrafting things from the past, im not sure what i'll write, but i will indeed do just that.

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Page 67; Destructo Spin

"Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . . 

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time—and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened. 

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights—or very early mornings—when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . . 

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . . 

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . . 

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back." 
— Hunter S. Thompson (Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas)


Read it 10 times and it still gets me.

Viridian

Well it's wednesday, and thats where we stand. Long day at work today im unwillingly staring at this pile of papers i need to process and about ten thousand dollars in company checks waiting to be gone through.
Oh well no big deal really and once i get started it will be a breeze to help 9 o clock get here that much sooner.

Ide apprieciate any feedback on the previous three posts. Seeing as ive been stuck at the point for going on 3 years now, ide like to add to it, without getting to involved with the actual reality of what was happening at the time.
Gibberish.
That said, ill be going now thanks.

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Informal Gluttony; Part three

I try to read the novel I picked up in town but I was to fidgety from the nicotine craving to let the printed words soak into my brain, I slip the book back into my grey leather messenger bag that sits very snuggly between me and the wall of the subway car. I let my fingers graze through my bag and I finally pull out my I-pod. After a moment I close my eyes, and feel the world leave me. A few minutes go by, I look up and seated across the car from me is her. She looks a little like she has been dead for a month or two. Matted black hair and pale white face seated uncomfortably against the hard cold seat of the subway car.
Her arms were long and covered in what could be track marks but most likely scars, self inflicted. In the soft, dirty hands that hung from these arms is a cigarette, smoking and burning slowly down. One hand on her thigh due to the exposing nature of her dress.
She is beautiful to me, most men would consider her untouchable, a wolf. I saw something in her though, a sort of rebellious beauty, someone who, like me, had lost it all. “you shouldn’t do that” I tell her, “do what?!” she quickly shot back, smoke billowing from her broken lips. “smoke, I’m pretty sure they don’t allow it on the subway” I explain, she rolls her eyes and turns her head the other direction. “just a suggestion” I said under my breath but obviously loud enough that she still heard me. “And what makes you so high and mighty? Just because your in that suit doesn’t make you the fucking hall monitor of the subway?!”. She’s upset, to say the least, its erotic…sort of. I interrupt her, “I’m James” “--the hell gives you th--what? Ann, get lost!”. If you asked me then I couldn’t tell you why, but I took the seat next to her.

Reaction; Part Two

How romantic, I’m standing in the crowed front section of  a subway car that reeks of piss and stale beer. I find my way to the back, where the florescent lighting has all gone bad, and the lights flicker intermediately before finally sparking out. I am seated quietly in the back of the dark subway car heading towards my office in Manhattan.
I unwittingly found myself catching bits and pieces of a conversation between two teenaged boys dressed in all black with patches of punk rock bands lining there tapered pants, their feet resting on skateboards rolling back and forth with the cars motions. A man who looked to be in his mid forties was talking with them. Something about acid, ecstasy, too much shroomage?
Welcome to America, home of the free living sons and daughters of wealthy stoke brokers, who live incredibly well off home lives, but like to wear tight pants and bitch about politics and how the man tries to bring down the underdog. These kids haven’t met me. These children of tyrants snorting lines of blow off the pocket mirror they stole from moms vanity, they like to use there dads prescriptions to pop pill after pill looking for a quick release from there sturdy families, there well endowed lifestyles. Fakes. They proceed to openly discuss these topics with strange old men in dark subway cars. Strange old men who wish to share a relationship with these boys, why? Mid life crisis? Pedophilia? Who knows, maybe they just cant pull it together enough to hold an honest, mature relationship with the people there own age. Welcome to America.

Three stops and half a dozen acid filled stories later the kids step off the subway, so does Mr. Pedo-fuckin-phelia. I’m alone.

Fire For A Dry Mouth; Part one

                                                                            Lets start somewhere between 2006 and 2007 shall we?



    Don’t ask me what because I really couldn’t tell you, only what I saw in her. She was somewhat of a car wreck, in the sense that she was a complete walking calamity, but for some reason you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. Her petite body so thing you might think she was on heroine or something, which she probably was. Her hair was black ash and never seemed to leave its matted, disheveled state, laying there, shortly trimmed, almost like a boys hair on her, not unusually, but large head. Her eyes were so dark, almost black yet still mesmerizing. Her face, much like the rest of her body, was very pale and her lips were thin and cracked. Not quite short but not very tall, and she seemed to be wearing some kind of slip that looked as if it has just been pulled from under her bed and hung from her body like it was made for a woman twice her size. She was having trouble keeping both straps on her shoulders and depending how she sat in the seat, her slip was so short that you could almost make out what color, if any, panties she was wearing underneath it all. Beneath all this a pair of small breasts suited for a girl in junior high, first year of high school at the most, leading down to the longest legs I have ever seen. They were smooth but covered in scars from where she had vented her frustrations with a kitchen knife. Her hands were probably my favorite part of her, small and delicate to the touch, soft and smooth. I knew they had been through a lot of strenuous needle pushing though. She was everything I have ever hated in a small chest and great legs. I met her on the subway.

A Feed From Cloud Mountain

"We woke up and the one string of light creeping through the doorway had crept down to our feet, she saw me looking at the door and pulled my head back towards her face." - Opening page; The pool hall tango. Revolution on canvas.

Hello Tuesday, how are things going for you today?
Today my father will travel through the sky and find himself landing near downtown los angeles, I'm extremely excited seeing as it has been over a year since I've seen him. Which means that I am booked solid for the next 5 weekends, on the 15th of febuary I will be flying back to Ohio to spend a few days with my grandparents and other family. 2006 was the last time I saw any of them, so it is definately due time for a visit.
I've been trying to keep my jacket off here at night and sit outside to get myself use to the cold, but nothing can really prepare you for 4 degree weather and a few feet of snow when your from sunny san diego.

Either way its going to be a good thing for me to get out there and spend some time with everyone, and it will help me apprieciate this beautiful city and state that I live in even more.

Well, I'm on my way to finishing this paperwork here and then I will beging typing out sections of this old story.

Should I post all together or break it into pieces?

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prove my hypothesis; issues

well, after typing out this great morning post, it seems that android isnt capatible with this website and i have yet to find a mobile posting program, so needless to say, the post was wasted and will now more than likely just take up space on my phones internal memory. i need to invest in a better wireless card fo i can just use my lapot here at work without hassle. anywho, ill stll type somethings out today but sadly cannot post them until the evening when i am at home. bare with me

swim to the moon

        So here ends day one of this new venture, so far, pretty much just talking to myself. healthy. anyhow, tomorrow i will be taking my laptop with me to work along with one or more of my books from the previously mentioned "box". In no particular order i will start to re write and rephrase a few things. i've got a great short story in the works, that hasn't been touched in ages, maybe i can get some good pointers on here somehow? we'll see.

That being said, heres a little something else i'm working on at the moment. Goodnight.

“May the wind always be on your back and the sun upon your face and may the winds of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars.”

(Shevanel Take 2)

something i came across;seemingly fitting;      although myself and the witness were the only ones listening, i once spoke of what was needed to create the perfect world. i spent time talking about all the elements that, as far as i was concerned at the time,had the validity and the character to create blissful serenity and happiness throughout the entire planet. "if everything was this way, the world would be perfect". blue pin strips and pink tops. when i woke up the next day i realized...i should have kept my mouth shut. i know now that what i was thinking was very wrong, and had the world been subject to these, elements, that i felt strongly about,not only would our world fall apart but it would be cold,dark, and as dead inside as the trees that once covered the hillside benches. but more importantly.the world would no longer be a symbol of life, better transformed into a heartless sphere of constant confusion and internal ignorance. no one would ever be hapy or connected to anything. lives would become counterfiet, only serving the world as a game in which the goal is to cleverly find out how many souls you can take down with you. for our sake, this never  happened

the decade of statues

consider this your introduction, because its all downhill from here.  depending on how you choose to look at things.  this blog will be composed of my thoughts and other random things i feel like telling anyone about. i will be posting journal entries dating back through highschool and the first years on my own. purposly bringing back the past for you all to relive, and hopefully give myself a new sense of organization to what have unofficially been named "the box". ill start with something more recent. also it appears that android isnt very savi when it comes to this website, so bare with me if something seems out of place.there seems to be a reoccuring theme around the page, ill have to fix that shortly.