Baby, How Long?

Things

smmr 09

Dead Things

Brown Book Prose #10

We made our way to a shabby, aged trailer

Deep in the wildernesses of Nowhere, Virginia

Speed limit 10 in Glens

20 on Main Roads

The waters were docile and the green from the trees above

Looked like algae on the water's surface

I couldn't seem to focus on anything but the gravel in my canvas shoes

And she told me there was no time like the present

Well how shall I know she's present?

And we made love so that everyone could see

I realize, now, that we were everyone

We were fighting for our lives because who knows how long we'll feel this young, right?

She scribbled something sloppily in Spanish she probably thought I'd neither see nor comprehend

I told her about my infatuation with this American wilderness

But she didn't believe me

And I sang her that Outfield cover

And she didn't believe that either

I can recall my voice

While checking the time like late December in Manhattan

What happens now?

What does that mean?

I think it means, er...

Is this en route to inevitable destruction?

God, you worry so much

We can always continue from this ellipsis

It has always been a habit of mine

To acknowledge every cloudings potential to metamorphose into a downpour

And I arose to a desolate space

Devoid of all affection

And I realized the seeds I had planted had taken root

Fair to say, packing my umbrella was a worthwhile decision

Eight Mile/Seven Hour Poem

Despite my body's plea for change, I ignore the routine of an early morning trot.

I am fully aware of the dangers of subjective judgement 

Here in this oddly misplaced age of neatly tied neck ties and symmetrically laced shoe strings,

But this God-given free will continues to have it's way.

I am greeted by the mid-afternoon breeze 

And the stench of rotting berries from a tree I've been trying to identify without much success

Even with the assistance of my literature on the flora and fauna of North America

I have the tendency to do nothing on days like this

You know, sluggish, warm, Do-Nothing days

But I will make most of this one as this hazy atmosphere is usually unappealing to me

But has grown resplendent in mine eye

The body is a machine, a mechanism He created with such delicacy

All the pieces packed compactly within a shell

Yes, a machine and machines operate on fuel

Peanut Butter on toast

Great, now we can begin

Public transportation is such a drag and I barely have enough room 

Between two large, odd regulars to think about the unutterable history

Between the number three line and myself

Three stops, two stops, my stop

Oh shit! MY stop!

Minding one's business is a philosophy taught to every youth

In every school yard across America

But I knew this girl from Anatomy & Physiology

God, how I dreaded that class

In all truth,  I find it completely farcical that I often end up

At the hindquarters of every dying discourse

But I assume it's because I'm always conscripting tiny banks of audacity or intestinal fortitude 

For efforts to make my words engaging.

We discuss old passions and what became of whom

I am surprised by a sudden selfishness as she informs me of those doing worse than myself

It makes me feel better about the fact that I am not as ambitious as I feel I should be

Again, selfishness

Tales of aborted love affairs and irresponsible thinking

Bidding farewell, I am late and there is a first time for everything

Breathless from choking down cigarettes, I climb the stairs

Today was a day for damning my existence, evaluating silent romances

And practicing brisk pragmatism

Lists for Liars

To Do Everyday:

1. read a poem
2. write a poem
3. listen to a good song
4. eat good food
5. make something to be proud of
6. express humble gratitude
7. drink good tea
8. touch the earth 
9. watch the sky
10. let go of inhibitions
11. eat fruit (for the body)

I am an avid collector of good cover songs and I have built quite a playlist of them. If anyone who bothers to read this stumbles across a good cover song, please be kind and send them my way

Thnks Bunches,

Keith

Drawing Final: Spring 09

 Portrait on nine sheets of about 12x12 paper and one 15x20

Sorry about crappy wall, but I was in a rush

Johnny Cash

Assignment was to find an image and draw it in a grid. One piece should be larger than the rest.

Close up on largest piece.

Summer Summer, Oh Bummer

Tonight, 

Yes, this very night

A overwhelming wave of melancholy crashed against my fragile frame

And I believe I stood with open arms

Welcoming the tidal wave of crushing emotions

I divulge in literature and writing to occupy my mind but

I have developed a longing for a girl

Who fascinates me more than any other

Yet, who I feel like I only know by the narrowest of margins

Again, typical me

So, the expanse of music collection mirrors my emotions

Throwing at me the sappiest of songs I sometimes forget could bring me to tears

Blah Blah Blah

Oh, and here is my favorite bit

It is completely impossible to know if my feelings of almost deep infatuation are felt in return by said young woman

I guess it isn't the improbable cause of my lack of inspiration, huh?

Oh, and Venn Diagrams!

Lately, these devices of comparison have made frequent appearances in my sketchbook

They seem natural

Organic, if you will

Great, another sad sad song

Only in the summer do I feel this way

Seventy-Six Days Plus

God, these hunger pangs

No socks

No shirt

Solitary light seeping from the refrigerator

Boylan Bottleworks Black Cherry

Inaudible breathing in the upper levels of the edifice

I hate writing like this

Narratively

Descriptively

A lone tear fell when my eyes fell upon this house

I said to myself

"Here...again?"

These people do not know me

As much as they believe they do

And I lack the adroitness to tell them as such

And no longer do I find comfort in my old allies

We share no common ground

"Yo, you hear that new Gucci?"

"No, but lately my migraines have grown past the level of incapacitating"

"So...you wanna hear that Gucci or what?"

I guess one could say I've been dreaming of freedom again.

C2-106C

I came to, ears still ringing from the night before

Rolling out of a bed that is not my own

I grab my dirty shoes and worn flannel shirt

Stumbling torpidly toward the front door in a semi-hypnotic state of subconsciousness

I am deathly silent

I am inches away from the exit

Inches away from disappearing without making a sound

A sudden movement in my peripheral vision

"You're leaving."

"Yeah, I'm going to do work"

I am given looks of uncertainty and despondency

"Okay...well I'll see you at some point"

Is it wrong, when one knows his heart is elsewhere, to try to give affection to another?

Specifically

In that very room

Tucked in a blanket

Uncomfortable with the adjacent situation

I find it hardly fathomable that the mind and heart

can ever concur

They are of opposite poles

Data Transfers

Exhausted.

Feet blistered from a day of extensive walking

I lay my heavy head against the cold glass

and drown out the drones of conversations around me

Somewhere around Dover

she lay her head on my shoulder

Could I have been dreaming?

No way to be sure 

The brain does peculiar things when it lacks what it needs

I lean into the window 

in efforts to create a comfort zone for her

(or the apparition of her)

My neck

It hurts

From hours of being still

She shifts...closer

And she is warm

And this song is a cover

And this gum is stale

A few more miles to Baltimore

Flickr Flickr Quicker

I have not finished scanning these but they're coming.

Helplessness Hood

This was an Elements of Visual Thinking project. The assignment was to engage a space (that space being the classroom) so that it is changed from its normal function. I used this canvas hood to blind me of sight, smell and a bit of hearing and I also vowed silence so that I was completely vulnerable to the outside world. I let the class do what they pleased with me. The real point of this hood was to show how humans act when given power and how, in most instances, the power is abused. I was lead into walls, objects were thrown at me, I was taunted and overall, I was used as an object of amusement. 

Six More Days at the Bottom of the Ocean

Violet-black skies linger over head

I see her everywhere

Apparitions of that face surrounding me,

There and there,

Here and here 

Spring arrives and astonishment ensues

Petals adhered to the wet, cement stairs

Yet, the formality of it all is profound

Just then, the Great Star crawled over the horizon

but my intentions are flawed

Just as they were when you knew me

Those trees are dampened with the dew of daybreak

and I think I own too many readings on the local flora and fauna

Names and names of things I have yet to encounter

This wind is whipping far to violently for me to bear today

Shake off the dust from my trusty, five-year-old windbreaker

grab my camera

and get a late start on an early day

I closed my eyes

and opened my ears to full capacity.

I heard a voice

but the words were in a voice I could not comprehend

I can only imagine

that what was said was nothing in my favor

and a stab at my character

On this journey, I have met too many individuals

who concern themselves solely with richness and decadence

fame and fortune,

and things of that nature

Me?

No, I am not the same

for my only goal in life is to make a sincere impact on as many people I encounter as possible; whether it be positive or negative

I want to be remembered

That is all.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine and ten.

Ceci n'est pas une pipe

vain, vane, vein

I am a man of peculiar tastes

mmm...food

I've had recent run-ins with old friends--the majority being the imaginary ones--and I realize how much of a change I have made as a being. 

I used to think it was possible to ensconce oneself on clouds. I made it my primary goal in life. I later found out it wasn't possible. I cried for hours upon hours.

"I quit my job and moved to live in France for a short while, because I wanted to spend time with a girl that fascinates me more than anybody I have ever known"

Strange Times

This Didn't Go Over Well But...

I'll post it anyways...

So many ideas went into this self-portrait series, that it was too hard for the class to grasp. I have to find a simple way to incorporate all my ideas without confusing the viewer. Two of the drawings are layered tracing paper sketches of my face: one in india ink, the other in pencil. One is chalk & charcoal on toffee colored paper and the last is just ebony pencil on found paper. All the drawings have a projection of a photograph of me onto them. So many concepts, so little time.

Stream of Consciousness is So Overdone

There are times when I stop and think

about the choices I have made

and how arbitrary they have become

Based on nothing but pleasure of the flesh

So I think of what good they have done

...nothing

I draw up blank.

In the meantime, I compare myself to those idolize.

Of course, with my own revisionism

and I make of mold of that which I chose to be

which I long to be

I have so much work to do.

Mo' Sketches, Mo' Problems. 5x3 Moleskine

word.

Trojan Horse

watch the branches sway

and we go where eagles dare

spin out, baby, spin

8x5 Moleskine scans

8 Words

They can only shut me for so long!!!

#1

there is a castle

on a hill

and I am approaching its peak

and the winds whips

and my ears tear

and my legs are weak

but I continue to push

because beautiful fields arise before me

but I'm not sure how much more of this I can take

photographs

unexpected

can 

be 

beautiful

http://www.flickr.com/photos/operationdoom/

untitled.

it

is

only

the 

wind

that

rustles

the

trees

.

The Artist's Warning!

Don't push an artist because we already live close to the edge!! LEARN YOUR LIMITS!! Appreciate the art because if we didn't CREATE the SHIT that you LOVE you would stand TRAPPED in a BLAND WORLD! DON'T JUDGE US! DON'T QUESTION US! DON'T CRITICIZE US! It takes a lot to OPEN our HEARTS and POUR ourselves to you! My WORLD is not the SAME as your world. I have seen SHIT that you would NEVER understand and if you saw it you'd KILL yourself! I FEEL PAIN that you'd never be able to TOLERATE! I don't always SMILE because I'm HAPPY, sometimes I just smile because it FEELS great! We don't have to do what we do! We are giving out gifts for free! Merry Fucking Christmas!! Don't complain about a GIFT! Consider yourself LUCKY, and consider yourself WARNED!  

If | 2.8.09

Tessa said :

"You know, there is only a fine line between genius and insanity"

and it wasn't the first time I'd heard that.

Not that I am a genius or anything (nor do I try to be) but 

for those geniuses out there, 

one could interpret that many ways

Meanwhile

I am rotting away

I feel like a flightless bird

knowing my potential and seeing what my peers can do

yet feeling so uninspired that I just don't even try to get my feet off the ground

"what a waste of talent"

"Hurting someone is an act of reluctant intimacy"

Today was the most one of the beautiful days of the new year.

Sometimes I wish I was a snake so I could stick out my tongue and taste the air

taste the joy,

taste the relief,

taste the life within it

feeling the wind gust whipping against my skin

and the faint sounds of children skipping in praise of the day

it is at times like these...I am okay

it feels good to feel alive every once in a while

goobledeegook

my mother always told me to "choose your friends wisely"

naturally, i didn't listen

but to watch a friend hurt a friend hurts, my friend

so i have to make my choices wisely.

an ode to mass

James and I went to Mass

but neither of us is Catholic

so we knew nothing of what to expect

but, both of us being Christian, we knew what Communion was

and we could make it through that

as we walked thru the pews, I was amazed at the how grand and gothic everything was compared to all the churches I had attended

I listened to the Word of God

I ate His son's flesh

I drank His son's blood

and we sang the closing hymn

as I exited the doors of the House of the Lord

I felt as though I had just been rained on

and as I looked at James, I could tell he felt the same

it's funny how a little worship can change a man

because...

Love

is

not

a

synonym

for

eternity

Importance of Quietus

yesterday, one of my roommates friends passed away

despite our differences, i was sympathetic

he was so down; as i have never seen him before

it is at times like these i realize people all have feelings no matter what

and death makes us all realize that

welcome

we are a collective

and we want to be your pal.

We Humans are Condemned to Be Free

i don't remember much of what she said

i remember the crying

always crying

things never change

she still cries to this day

but there is something comforting in her tears

i think absence is the key to painlessness

but these things are never easy for the weak

we give in to empathy

God...empathy?

she laid her head on my chest

"i think i'm comfortable with you"

i think you're delusional

"yeah...i guess, if you want to put it that way"

"what do you mean?"

"you're always comfortable with me when you're hurting"

perfect.

i'm no good at things of this sort

at least we know things won't change