|
Holy shit this cafe is dominated with estrogen. I can like feel it pushing on me. Same with the leaf and bean. Its like I walk in and theres eight female eyes looking at me and its honestly kind of bewildering. Can I get you something????? I just saw a former officer, "Officer Adams" we used to call him. He did this program called D.A.R.E. to stay off drugs. I remember they tried to get us to sign a contract that said we would never do drugs or abuse alcohol. How could anyone in the eighth grade know that they aren't going to do that when they get older? I mean I said to myself I was never going to do that shit until I was a sophomore in high school at that sausage fest bonfire at my house.
Its funny that the day I decide to wear my Bob Marley t-shirt is also the day I see my ex anti-drug enforcer guy. He told me I look good, which is nice.
I've ordered the same coffee drink at several different spots: Blended ice coffee with a banana and chocolate syrup. Its called a Chocobanana and its been kind of my thing lately. At the Sola its more bitter than how they made it at Wild Joes, but its still good. When people hang out in cafes a drink is like your entrance fee to be here. I mean you can't just hang out in a trendy place for free! You have to pay 5 bucks to be in a place where people are having intelligent conversations and the walls are littered with local photography and earthy tones. Oh I just spotted a one guy working here. 1 Guy to 8 girls. Same thing at the leaf and bean. I interviewed there and I am 75% hired just because I am male. I have a sexual advantage. I feel like most bars and restaurants would rather hire an attractive young girl. Its weird that I could work at a bar since I am eighteen. I can't legally drink the stuff but I can serve it and make drinks and stuff. Laws are real fucking weird. I can't let a liquid with a certain composure of proteins that make alcohol and let it pass to my stomach. People try to not let me do that. Same thing with weed. I can't put a flame to this part of a certain plant and let the smoke go into my lungs. I can be arrested for having something that comes from the ground. Fuck that.
Its funny to imagine that people can hear what kind of music you are listening to. If I was listening to Dre's interlude on the chronic "Pause for Porno" and the people around me could hear what I was listening to on my headphones and they were all down with it.
I was walking with Brooke on this street in Mexico and there was this huge black suburban parked on the side of the road. Brooke stopped behind to look into the Suburban because there was really loud techno music playing. She looked at me like she walked in on someone taking a shit. They were watching porn with the volume cranked all the way up. Thats so badass, like why would we stay at home and watch porn? Lets do it on the fucking street!
Im living with my friends parents right now, there's kids are all off on trips. There oldest is in Alaska working for three months in some camp in the middle of nowhere and their other two are in Minnesota or something. We were eating dinner and somehow we started talking about masturbation and porn. Its funny how some people you can really quickly get used to to the point where you can just talk about that. I wouldn't even talk about that with my own parents. Thats weird. Whoah.
Well I started this post with the intent to have some purpose but it has evolved into an amorphous rambling. Thats okay though.
|
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Wow I haven't made a post in a while, I'm not really sure why I keep making posts. I don't think many people see this blog and think to themselves that they should follow it- I wouldn't follow it. I guess I make posts because in twenty years someone will be like "hey remember blogger?" and ill look at my blog and be like woah. Anyways I think Im going to start to give this blog some shape, some purpose. I am going to start talking about things that happen in my life, instead of just posting random artsy poems, although theres nothing wrong with those.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
"Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it, but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper, fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars. I cannot count one. I know not the first letter of the alphabet. I have always regretted that I was not as wise as the day I was born."
-Thoraeu
"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are words, and some of the words are theirs."
-Norman Maclean
When I moved to Boise I didn't fly fish for the two years that I was there. God why would I just desert something like that. Im back in Bozeman and doing a fair amount again. Its almost intoxicating, that pulse you feel when you have a strike. The other day I went on the Gallatin with gramps (yeah I still call him gramps) and fished for hours. I was lightheaded because I hadn't eaten in a while but I kept fishing because each fish I caught was worth the wait. When Im fishing with someone and they catch a fish it almost feels like I also caught a fish. Its like how I love watching people paint and draw, its like I'm doing it. Fishing.
-Thoraeu
"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are words, and some of the words are theirs."
-Norman Maclean
When I moved to Boise I didn't fly fish for the two years that I was there. God why would I just desert something like that. Im back in Bozeman and doing a fair amount again. Its almost intoxicating, that pulse you feel when you have a strike. The other day I went on the Gallatin with gramps (yeah I still call him gramps) and fished for hours. I was lightheaded because I hadn't eaten in a while but I kept fishing because each fish I caught was worth the wait. When Im fishing with someone and they catch a fish it almost feels like I also caught a fish. Its like how I love watching people paint and draw, its like I'm doing it. Fishing.
Monday, February 27, 2012
I need to walk, make my feet tougher. They've gotten softer since I moved to Montana. No shoes. Walking down a black cement path with light poles on the right- they're like little pop up drones that look at me. White dog behind black iron fence ready to pierce. He reminds me of Tucker, that vicious one who braked at me whenever I walked to the pond. I was walking through private yards so I always tried to go unnoticed. I'd say- Brooke don't be afraid and she would tell me that she's not afraid. Zem. I told him that there were natives that lived in those woods and that he shouldn't be there. Good kid, bad judge of character. Find a forked up stick, I haven't just picked up a stick in a while. I never really sit on benches- the ones on the side of city paths. I don't think many people use those that often. Trying to sit cross legged, squinting in the sun with geese in front of me. You see more when you look straight in the sun and don't let your face constrict. In front of a line of house all made of ticky tacky... I'm in front of one of them that has wind chimes- put there to evoke a false aurora of calmness and zen. Just there for aesthetics. I want to stay no no no. Do do do doooo doooo dooo! Where were you? Oh, just on a walk.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Immersed in the fire, transfixed on a single ember,
A big ruby of an eye,
Pure mind, nostalgic state of consciousness... maybe its the
Cedar smoke; it takes you back to that huge house, you know the place.
The place where nothing mattered, you could run naked &
Dance
Scream
Whisper
and you would receive nothing but smiles.
"How do fish sleep?" says a cousin...
Vapid nonsense,
Any speech, any noise is pesky, you just want to remain untouched in this clear state.
Rangy Poplar fingers, with their blackened joints riddle with arthritis
Curl and straighten in the inferno, are they trying to stretch?
Are the logs in pain? maybe they're screaming at the top of their lungs, being burnt alive
And they receive nothing but vacuous stares.
You look up at the heavens, your face cooked by the heat
And think to yourself
Time spent in front of a fire is never wasted.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)