I like everybody else

carry an envelope in

my chest and through

the plastic screen of

the envelope you can

see grass clippings from

my childhood lawn.

My father and I hung

carpet from the walls of

the room in my first

apartment, there's no

reverberation and I keep

a clump of your hair and

other fuzz on the carpet.

It sticks, born of static

or a velcro property

waiting to be rolled

one day with the grass

clippings and smoked on

a beach with people I

feel okay about 

things. 

Day #2 of 30

Just had a mild panic attack and took several laps around the
block at different times walking down the street and then
through an alley, back up the opposite way then back down
my street, a square loop, 3 times.

Feel better now.

Sleepless night listening to Young Family, should probably
start making music again because otherwise this is going
to be a long 30.

Have plans for a chapbook/zine by the end of the month, possibly with an accompanying CD.
Anyone ever do Zines at half a page size? You kno, back pocket size?

Seems appealing. Seems more difficult w/ copying and logistics but they
have a nice paper cutter at school so I'm thinking this is a viable option.

EDIT: Actually very easy and can get a 16page book out of a single piece of A3 paper. Email me your address and I send the book to you! More information to come. Release date planned May 1.

Dave's father taught Dave and his brothers the values of capitalism by allowing their tiny hands to brush and floss his teeth for a period of one month and for a payment of one Lego set each, chosen from a catalog.

sitting at two different spots
looking through windows
trying to spot one person
out of hundreds passing
w/ no idea if these areas
correlate w/ that person's
schedule at all

feeling insane
feeling ghost
feeling fine yah
we're feeling fine

3.28.14

2:24pm

my mom bought two angel food cakes

a key lime pie on monday and a second on friday

a package of oreos, some ice cream

two packages of keebler's, “fudge striped”

today she bought fried chicken

my father, brothers and I are worried about her

I gained five pounds

i'm not mad, I lay on my bed

watching the ceiling fan pendulate

while it spins

I feel double vision

applied to my innards:

there's the body here and

the reluctant personality

six feet behind it

my eyes are holes that work

like those cigarette-butt

receptacle things,

feed me ash 
calmly

Archival Post #1: 

"Three Stories involving Diet Coke and One about Cooktop Cleaner"

3.26.14

11:08pm

My brother is sitting at my grandfather's desk typing a paper, drinking a diet coke. I am laying on the bed typing a short story. My brother is eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. A glob of jelly falls out of the sandwich and onto my grandfather's desk.

My brother says “come here!”

As I get up to walk over I instantly know what I'm walking over to do.

He says, “slurp this shit!”

I bend over and slurp half of the jelly off of the desktop laughing.

He says, “more!”

I slurp the rest and we both laugh for about 10 seconds.

Then we go back to typing in our respective word documents.

3.29.14

12:38am

yesterday a funny thing happened.

I kept telling my brother that his nipples looked warm and

that perhaps he would like them chilled with a diet coke from the fridge.

Then, I was standing at the base of my brothers bed, he was on the right side drinking a diet coke and my other brother was on the bed. I picked up a twin mattress someone used to sleep on the floor and began to “beat” my brother on the bed with the cumbersome mattress. It veered off to the right as he tried to kick it off and hit the diet coke out of my brother's hand, spilling coke on his shirt, legs and the carpet of my grandfather's condo. He then proceeded to film me as I vigorously scrubbed the carpet with towel and handsoap. 

Then later tonight I couldn't find any handsoap so I washed my hands with glass ceramic cooktop cleaner.

4.1.14

day #1

she was the kind of girl who would take

cigarette breaks while jogging.

The kind that would have sex with me on

a slide in an empty park at night.

She was the kind of girl who didn't mind

smoking K2 on our first date or the

kind that you could bring to the railroad

tracks, the beach or your parent's basement.

I loved the girl, I love the girl. She's inspired

a great change in me:

This is day 1 of 30 and I see a therapist,

work out three times a week and

tutor black kids from an underprivileged

school on the south side of chicago.

I've quit drinking, I want to be a good person,

I want to make things possible for us so

I can once again feel her toes against mine

beneath a blanket lying awake, anxious

and exhausted while she sleeps next to me
breathing nauseous breath in my face.

3.1.14

In Southern Illinois we rode along curved highways and gazed at the simplicity offered by everything, advertising, architecture, a stark and depressing mundanity. Rather, there were no complicated lures, simply food or gas or strip mall with block buildings and no way to access anything without a vehicle.

No one had spoken for several minutes after we'd left the museum w/ its tunnels and otherworldly interactive feel. Drew piloted the SUV w/ fingers in groupings of two and three splayed on the steering wheel and the general impression that his driving “field of vision” extended only ten feet in front of the vehicle.

We had been listening to a top-40 radio station and as we moved it became apparent that the dial was either in between stations or more likely that we were on some sort of dividing line where two separate stations fought over the same frequency: top-40 vs. religious-drivel interspersed with bursts of static and other exciting effects.

2.22.14

4:00pm I saw your dad driving in his car. he should sit up straighter.

4:14pm bought a beefy five layer, a soft taco and a caramel-apple empanada. 

4:31pm put fingers in throat to try and throw up what i just ate in north brook court parking lot. didn’t work and just ended up hurting my throat a lot. 
4:50pm cried behind my brother's sunglasses as i drove my brother's car down waukegan road while listening to Eiko Ishibashi