tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37915044938372066682012-01-25T20:07:34.528-07:00Not completely integrated.Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.comBlogger391100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-22558747012039451642011-08-08T20:39:00.002-07:002011-08-08T20:40:44.530-07:00

I know you don't know me But I'd sure love to know you Your body is just my speed You got me thinking 102 If there ever was a lover for me Baby, I know it's got to be you I'm sittin' here all by myself Just drinkin' a bottle of wine It's just you, there's no one else And, baby, your dancin' sho looks fine If there ever was a lover for me Baby, I know it's got to be you I sit back, and I relax

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-21178494431994490072011-08-07T02:54:00.005-07:002011-08-07T03:43:20.681-07:00

Brick, brack, breaking groundI never thought I'd hear the soundOf rock, rock, rock and rollBuried in a corporate hole*riff*Sit, stand, move to the frontI'm gonna give you what you wantRock, rock, rock and rollCome on, baby, lose control*riff*Stand up!If you wanna rock, babyStand up!If you love to rock, baby*riff*Love, hate, it's all the sameGet on the floor, it's in the nameOf rock, rock, rock

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-30904350045256847202011-08-01T20:54:00.005-07:002011-08-02T20:46:35.906-07:00

I'm tired of all this noisy and pointlessCommotionEnough money to hold back the tides of all the world'sOceansThe animals in Washington fight and feastOn the flesh of those they representTheir children aren't at war, but my brothers areHow do they intend on repaying the dead?You let them die for profit and greedJustifying that it's what the other people needWhat about us?What about the people

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-36592966691545004512011-07-31T20:49:00.003-07:002011-07-31T21:10:06.688-07:00

Something about you draws me nearMaybe it's your DNABut you're always here with meIn my heartPulling me softly into youYour deep blue eyes, so warm and clearMaybe it's in your bloodAnd your smile is so endearingTo my memoryPulling me softly into youI can't escapeThe innocent way you don't know meBut you doDeep down insideYou draw me closer with your gravityEven though you're so far awayBaby,

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-90831555320066199502011-07-29T19:09:00.001-07:002011-07-29T19:09:37.546-07:00

Some things are better left unsaidYou never know who you're gonna hurtBut some things, some things, some thingsNeed to be heardTell me you didn't turn to alcoholChecked the bottle, nothing left at allI watched you drink itBut you said I didn't see what I sawI may be a stupid manBut I did just about everything I canYou say it's not enoughAnd it's more than I can standSome things are better left

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-74732910014925914842011-07-29T19:07:00.000-07:002011-07-29T19:08:59.029-07:00

YouAlways lose your keysThey're on the pianoWhere they always are and always will beYou walk out the doorSunglasses on your headLeave me sitting aloneWhile the baby sleeps in her bedWhat have you done to make things right?All you wanna do is fightLate night conversationsAnd endless accusationsI couldn't take it anymoreThat's why you saw my ass walk out the doorIAlways lose my wayI'm never where

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-22453473165528690662011-07-24T11:05:00.002-07:002011-07-24T12:42:02.357-07:00

"You should write a book. Your dad is a great story." - NickBe that as it may, I am not ready to talk to the world about my father. I do my best to speak the coldest and harshest of truths, but my dad is still a sore subject for me - perhaps the only subject I cannot broach because it requires an honesty for which I am not ready.To write about my father is to open up a trove of dark secrets that

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-62893972272208244262011-07-24T04:43:00.004-07:002011-07-24T05:32:50.392-07:00

God, you're beautiful. The delicacy of your nature inspires me.I love that you're always there for me, putting your body on display like an erotic porcelain doll in a curio. But you're just out of reach. I can't touch you. I won't touch you, lest I contaminate your beauty with my unworthy hands. You are the untouchable, the unfathomable gift bestowed unto me by God's artistic hands.You stand

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-64676386288278301142011-07-23T23:42:00.003-07:002011-07-24T00:46:34.010-07:00

A tiny rock hurtles through space. Falling into the earth's gravity, it hits the atmosphere at 10,000 miles per hour. In the darkest distances of planet earth, man watches the night sky. Across the starry expanse shimmering against the blackness, a bright white streak of light flames into existence. Two seconds later, it fades into the black night.Such is the life of a falling star. Its beauty is

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-727722548853057752011-07-17T13:47:00.002-07:002011-07-17T14:20:55.882-07:00

I have a love/hate relationship with facebook. I love the idea that I can stay connected to people across the world, as well as reconnect with friends from my youth. I hate that it's used in place of e-mail.I'm old enough to remember a time when there were only two ways to stay connected - long distance phone calls and the U.S. Postal Service. What's funny is, people spend more today on their

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-82280807735738967972011-07-17T00:20:00.003-07:002011-07-17T03:29:59.220-07:00

"So do it," he says.As if writing is something to be turned on like a hot young school girl. It isn't. Expression takes time, thought, discipline. There is a lot more to it than even I, an experienced writer, ever imagined.Two years ago, I thought my illness was holding me back, so I turned to medications to right my mind and feel normal...like everyone else. Big mistake. What I didn't reason was

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-15979516943397898662011-07-04T02:14:00.002-07:002011-07-04T02:51:47.140-07:00

I am a writer. All the questioning and confusion over so many years, and I learned something about myself that I already knew. I had a feeling that the answer would be simple, but I had no idea it would be so obvious.I have been on bipolar medication for the past year-and-a-half, and I have yet to decide whether I prefer it or not. It is certainly a grand step better than where I was when I

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-15023223255938046422009-01-22T03:03:00.003-07:002009-01-22T03:39:11.079-07:00

I sit on my bed hunched over, legs crossed Indian-style, hands clasped in front of my ankles. I rock back and forth in time to the thoughts racing through my head. My eyes turn backwards to see, but the messages and words and images move too fast. There is no grasp but that which is before me - that which holds no significance to that which remains internal. No grasp and no expression, there is

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-67390346740459649792009-01-20T03:51:00.004-07:002009-01-20T04:02:27.970-07:00

I've been sitting here for the last couple hours listening to Tool music (all the classics). It's weird. I smell drugs. Oftentimes a smell can spark vivid memory recall, but how often does a sound evoke an olfactory memory?Four years ago I was smoking a lot of meth. How I got into it is irrelevant at this point. All that matters is that I remember the smell, and Tool is bringing it back. I don't

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-72608931662556808522008-12-02T01:02:00.002-07:002008-12-02T01:34:12.456-07:00

What should I do?Briefly returning from my mental absence to find the questions piled against the walls. No one has been here to answer them for me, nor did I find any while I was away. There are more than there were before, and the ones before are buried deep under the ones there now. Where to start....Where have I been for so long that I have nothing to show for the time I've been gone? Nowhere

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-66442150891527817722008-09-09T12:26:00.003-07:002008-12-04T07:20:44.664-07:00

A? What is A? Is A, A? If A is A, then A is A. If A is not A, then why is A?Is A, B? What is B? Is B, B? If B is B, then B is B. If B is A, and A is B, then why is B?If A and B, and A is A, and A is not B, then B is B. If A is A and B is B, then A is not B and B is not A, then A and B. If A is not A, and B is not B, then why is A and B?If A and B, is C? What is C? Is C, C? If C is not C, then why

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-72877768710683672772008-09-02T11:13:00.007-07:002008-09-02T12:09:58.644-07:00

*Originally written 11-4-2006 out of frustration and anger at the shit jackasses use to vandalise YouTube.*Fosse! Fosse! Fosse! Thanks to the release of the film version of Chicago in December 2002, and the “best of...” Broadway musical Fosse in the mid-90s, Bob is again all the rage in the dance world. This is understandable to the extent that he was a choreographic genius who should be revered

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-21160235226518747492008-05-27T17:03:00.005-07:002008-12-04T08:23:37.053-07:00

The ride grows long, and the night stretches thin as Joe traces his steps back. Ever the analyst, he always must know where he had been and how he got there, lest he gets lost in the random meanderings of his life. It isn't enough that the power went out, that the world around him twisted into a chaotic swirl of discontent and frustration, leading directly to the breakdown of the comfortable

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-48797017688571529082008-05-24T13:29:00.006-07:002008-12-04T07:57:00.328-07:00

The black hybrid SUV raced westward on an isolated stretch of desert highway. The bridge at the border had been breached, and scores of Californians fled east through Arizona. Three men and one woman headed into the razor thin silvery blue horizon, the truck hidden in the silhouette of the rocky mountains that bordered the valley. Four people armed to the gills with stolen military hardware

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-68988515077221558582008-01-02T12:12:00.000-07:002008-01-02T13:53:50.229-07:00

They planted a seed on November 28, 1972. A spark of life injected into the belly of a woman who would become my mother on August 28, 1973. That's me. That lump of flesh spilling forth in a deluge of feminine ooze. The doctor pulls me out, holds me up, and slaps my ass. Of course, that is all based on assumption. I don't remember anything about that day, really. I don't think I would want

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-4628093175571105902007-12-24T06:43:00.003-07:002010-02-02T19:15:39.620-07:00

"Are you a religious man?"The question resonates in its own hollowness."What do you mean by religious?"It's a simple question."Are you a religious man?"As opposed to what, exactly? A secular man?"What are you asking me?"For a simple question, this sure is getting fucking complicated. Do I believe in God or A god? Do I read the bible and have faith in a being that started off as a murderous

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-28622392904698561002007-12-09T23:47:00.000-07:002007-12-10T05:14:04.969-07:00

I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's work, banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it. We know the air is unfit to

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-45683248287832389572007-11-08T00:13:00.002-07:002008-05-30T16:56:06.331-07:00

Harvey is not an old man, but certainly past his prime. The salt beginning to show through his wiry hair and scraggly beard, he is a man who has seen enough time to know that it is not guaranteed for any man, not even himself. The deep lines of his harsh, sun-roughened face tell the tale of a man who has weathered more than a few storms, his sturdy, steady hands speak to his focus...his direction

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-69963047367571802332007-09-12T15:47:00.000-07:002007-12-12T04:35:00.018-07:00

Some of this may be repeated from the last foray into the quantum realm, but I have pictures now. This is just a re-posting of something I put on a message board. It just happened to come up in conversation. No, really.OK. Let me back up and give you the background for this whole idea. This whole thing started because I was sick of seeing crap on TV about dark matter and dark energy. I fought it

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-40150985393775656112007-08-21T01:12:00.000-07:002007-08-21T01:50:36.258-07:00

Time is the concept that is preventing us from analyzing the universe because it's an unnatural construct. It is a means of accounting for motion when trying to explain an active system in static terms. Time, basically, is an illusory effect of varying rates of motion.If you have two identical ships with identical loads and identical amounts of fuel (and all the other crap that makes them

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-67612833659514389712007-08-20T01:31:00.000-07:002007-12-12T04:07:29.266-07:00

Before I continue with the yet-to-be-titled story and other cynical rantings, I wanted to take a moment to talk a little about myself. I'm basing this on pure speculation, but I get the idea that some of the things I write go way over most people's heads. That's not an insult to anyone's intelligence, rather it is an indication that these people are not yet in on the "joke"It is true that I am a

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-67894104223865516622007-08-06T16:24:00.001-07:002007-08-06T17:32:40.603-07:00

I've never really gotten into the groove of 420. To begin with, I have never understood the origins of the pseudo-tradition, being that there are so many out there that are not just plausible, but downright uninteresting. Whether it was a group of stoner students at UC-Irvine, a referendum in California (Prop 420), police code (I understand that this is patently false), or Hitler's birthday, I

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-40841085602998715322007-08-04T02:48:00.000-07:002007-08-04T04:50:33.525-07:00

**Continued from "The Lady Killer"**It always starts out the same way. It’s the weekend, we made it through another week without terrorizing the office with small arms fire, and it’s time to do the usual “guy thing” and blow off a little steam. As I assume is the case for most male children of the 1970s, the ritual involves a short session in a well-ventilated room away from the front of the

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-2564299579625092032007-08-03T03:56:00.000-07:002007-08-17T00:03:36.876-07:00

"Take this," she says, slipping a tiny round purple pill delicately into my trembling palm. "It will make you feel better."I could only hope. I haven't had a headache this bad in . . . ever. The only one that comes close happened on spring break in Tijuana, 1995. It was my first taste of genuine Mexican mescal, and four hours later was my last. The dirty liquid eased down my throat as gasoline

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-65390529568041343532007-07-24T20:43:00.002-07:002009-01-16T13:57:44.685-07:00

Definition of apathy: zealous indifferenceAmbrose Bierce defines a cynic as "a blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be."The cynic looks at the world with a certain child like perspective (not to be confused with "childish", which means "maintaining an immature attitude") in that he never predisposes cultural knowledge within himself when making an

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-71797177402774990732007-07-24T00:18:00.000-07:002007-07-25T12:19:59.942-07:00

I have never seen one, nor do I know if one exists. But I'm in the mood to write some lyrics to the opening ensemble number of a porn musical.

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-91377522850283559392007-07-18T06:20:00.002-07:002008-05-13T20:13:16.662-07:00

Black nigger spic white fagNut hareButt woolDownfallApartBreakBrokenBrokeSuck it you comeRag further under downWhere feeble feces fall flatFlat against the brain cell wallBars seeping blood over umbragePast timesCloseDownDose clownScumSomebody killSomebody killSomebody killSomebodyElse me or nayBoreBoredBroken faces everywhereOver the timeAfter everything all is doneSaid onceUntil free screams

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-10242376526389145562007-06-06T11:58:00.003-07:002010-02-02T19:33:18.463-07:00

What is ten dollars worth to you? For only ten dollars, you can help feed and clothe a starving and abused child for a month. What does that get for you? Eternal peace and the presence of God's grace.That's right.I am raising funds to feed and clothe starving and abused children of broken inner city homes. Your donation of ten dollars gets you a free "I Fed Starvin' Marvin" South Park T-shirt,

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-76891519978114808332007-05-31T17:51:00.000-07:002007-05-31T18:21:11.596-07:00

I consider myself an artist of sorts. I would say more to begin, but I forgot the brilliance of all I would say. So I'll just jump in.Art is nuanced. An artist does not need to exploit nuances in order to appear artistic. Frank Gheary's architecture is ugly and convoluted, as far as I'm concerned. His twisted metal creations may be innovations in architectural design, but that's science. He

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-17221042926535667402007-05-27T22:18:00.001-07:002008-12-12T09:19:01.249-07:00

I was on a good path a little over a year ago. I was starting life anew on my own terms, I was working on what I am still hoping is an Academy Award nominated screenplay, and I was feeling free for the first time, probably in my entire life.Things were going so well, and I was working so hard, I decided to give my brain a little break every night. It wasn't much. I just went outside just after

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-1690855585136072622007-05-22T10:28:00.000-07:002007-05-22T10:39:27.060-07:00

Flaming trees in desert grass growBurning down the houses of our malcontentThe giant swirling masses of extinctionCome crying out loud for a bitter endingFour horses draw four carriages across the sunStretching and gnawing at the purple rainbowThey bring time across the waves of consciousnessShining the beam onto itselfThe bright, burning murderers of times pastRely on acid dreams to take hold of

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-37557974408021734222007-05-13T21:55:00.000-07:002007-05-13T22:49:05.909-07:00

I can't do customer service. I'm really good at it with my people skills and math savvy. It's just that, after a while, I get too good at it, and it becomes more of a reflex action. When I'm on my game, I'm flawless. I'm polite, patient, optimistic, funny. Over the course of time, though, my mind gets bored, and it starts to wander.I think of new, creative, fun ways to go out in style if I ever

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-31882362251516315882007-05-10T03:40:00.001-07:002009-01-16T13:44:38.636-07:00

I don't know what I'm going to do with myself.I don't take care of myself. I don't eat enough, and not well enough when I do eat, I drink too much soda, I don't exercise. I'm rail thin, but I'm fighting a gut the size of Camelback Mountain. It's not a place I ever imagined myself.I don't go outside and interact with people enough because, quite honestly, they frighten me. I know all too well the

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791504493837206668.post-68329877822924737442007-05-07T22:09:00.001-07:002008-12-11T07:53:10.622-07:00

If I had one wish, it would be to travel through time - into the past. I have always been severely disconnected from the perpetual present in which I live, and it has only been recently that the reasons have become clear. I stopped listening to the radio ages ago, and I stopped buying music long before that. It had nothing to do with the digital revolution (although I do download the odd song on

Jeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15151310645859530325noreply@blogger.com0