The Prodigal Daughter

foaming at the noses wild bucks race
muscles seen through taught skin
coarse furred beasts they travel
stomping on the earth they are mythical
arising from the dust of mediocrity

you have seen them on the horizon
as earth quakes and natural disasters
are spread from the epicenter of hooves
a ripple in the time that our own vibrations
create for the comfort of being

mind wrapping around science
a daily news item to be forgotten
in the midst of an execution; western style

	
Teeth grind
      into graves
Words erased backwards an imprint
On yellow lined paper are still mine
Cynicism lodged in the back
Of our throats cause to cough
	
no one else will do it
put the call in; hollow ring
from the plastic receiver 
	
Teeth grind
      into graves
Don't hang on words that cling to a
Precipice of brain tissue in you
Reading the ones and zeros as
Words pixelated to compute(r)
	
everyone looks good blindfolded
as forgivness only works blind
mouth full of kind words 
	
Teeth grind
      into graves
Flying in a metal winged albatross
Back over landscapes of desert
To realize that home was a deceit
Don't change the interaction
	
teeth grind into graves in a
cemetary mouth full of corpse words
this is what we call communication

The Godfather of soul passed away on christmas day 1:45 AM…

something i putz around with:
Untitled
Apathy infected suburban junkie
she sits in her house in the hill
a pink hair spray heart
rise up against the flanks of
herione moons turning your glass
eyes to the rear window
	
Apathay infected house frou
ignoring the battle in your
empty refridgerator door swings
cutting thin sliced peas
singular into moons in the
satallite of making a living
	
Apathy infected cough syrup
vodka cranberry mouthed youth
killing time waiting on things
not reaching for some warm revolver
of heart pumping rhythms in
your moon rot tooth mouth 
	
Love enraged torn out scorned
torn from the jugular of a feirce
beast trailing blood to call
for an apathy infected pack as they
shake up from the dry needled ground
	
image by:sergio lira

She’s waiting there with some boy I’ve never seen before, who commences to complain for the rest of the evening. She sure knows how to pick em. We go to baggage claim and wait around the glinting metal carousel for about 20 minutes until we notice that my bag has refused to pop out onto the moving track. It occurs to me that my bag is missing. I have to wait behind the asian man in the plum corduroys who has been with me since albuquerque. I haven’t mentioned that i haven’t eaten since i had that leftover italian it is now (12:30 AM). We talk about getting drinks and end up at John and Peter’s in New Hope. Where i have my first yuengling in 8 months. Kyles buys it for me and it finally feels like I am home.

Scott shows in his peacoat. He looks like a sailor and his hair is cut close to his head. I am relieved to see him and we all make off for the Eagle diner. I commenced to eat a cheesesteak and a piece of scrapple that Angela orders. It feels nice to be back on the east making butt jokes and ripping on Angela because it’s normal and that’s how we show our love. I forget about being tired. I forget about him. I am with the people that mean the most to me at that very moment, of course minus a few. It would be great to see jim or eel but what are you gonna do? They’re in china and i surely send my love. Of course I end up wearing the same clothing for 2 days until my bag arrives. In those two days i can’t get no satisfaction and my parents buy a huge box of liquor. I am drinking right now because the afternoon drunk suits me. I still think about calling. I think about what’s going on with Scott and my Pseudo date with Nick, but most of all I think about the man that stole my heart. I still love him with the pieces that are left.

I am packed. I get home from Ian’s at (4:30AM) and eat my left over italian. I don’t call jen like i said i would because i figure she’s sleeping. I check my e-mail. put on Wilco and make sure everything is packed. At (5AM) I call jen and she sounds asleep. Well maybe it was a few minutes before then. i head over. the steering wheel does an ice burn on my fingertips and there i am. shooing her out of the house because my lack of sleep has turned into impatience. Patience was never one of my strong points to begin with. We are at the airport and forget to give jen a hug. I am an asshole. The flight begins fine. I am only able to sleep when the plane is in the air. I guess it’s the dull roar of the engine that lulls me into sitting up sleep. I hear that we can’t land in houston because of fog cover and that we have to go to San Antonio to refeul.

We commence to sit in the pane for 3 hours while we wait for fuel. By this time i have missed my interchange. Wonderful! I also can’t sleep while we aren’t moving and a man who drives buses in Espanola gives me the number for a dentist in Jaurez. He tells me they’ll save my teeth, and thinking of this i think of him. I look at my phone and notice that he has called. I call back to report the irony that I am indeed sitting in a plane in his home town. Guffaw. I miss you. See you when you get back. We finally leave around (1:30PM) We get into Houston and they tell me I can catch a 2:30 if I fly standby. At this point I am praying to get onto this plane. I want to be home and sleeping.

What actually happens is I get on the plane and we never leave. We taxi and they tell us that the fog in Philadelphia and Houston is just too much. I guess the whole country was covered in fog the only day that i desperately want to get home. We are herded off to sit in the terminal and our gate happens to be right next to an airport bar. I get drunk with a middle aged man and a very thin jamaican med student. He pays for it all. She is loud and entertaining. We talk about life and parenting and being different ages. I am loaded when we get back on the plane (7PM). I quickly pass out to arrive in Philadelphia at (12:00AM). By this point my phone is dead. Angela is waiting outside the gate.

Like a greyhound ride. I started Wednesday morning (9 AM) putzing around on the computer. That is not interesting. I went to the mountain with Adam. We ate…italian and had a weird time. Not drunk, just kind of stoned. My edge wearing dull. Looking at the waitresses and waiters (6 PM). I don’t remember other then the sunset. We got up there around 4. I was wearing a down jacket that made me feel like a combination of the michelin man and the staypuff marsh-mellow man. My legs were blocks of ice on top of tense muscle. But the sky was full of colors that only your eye can see. I’m sure Adam took pictures, but the human eye is raped by intense color changes. My ears started to hurt because of the wind. And I thought of places that I have been. the top of the mountain. Frozen in ice and wondered what the natives thought. You have to land to get what it’s about. The mysteries of space and the ocean.

Went back to my apartment and commenced to putz again. Not really wanting to think about leaving or do anything about it. It’s not as if I wasn’t excited. it was just that i was feeling something in my stomach at the bottom. Jen came over. Her skin looked nice like she was taking care of herself again. I am sure that I didn’t look very nice. self abuse is a deal breaker. The phone call came before that. It wasn’t something i expected. I was going to go to bed and decided an all nighter was better. I threw all of my clothing into a plastic bag and then directly into my suit case. It’s not hard to pack when you have so little to bring.

Jen and I watched some television. I’m sure I tried to finish Wendy’s pot. What a nice gift. I also received a picture of us. I like the way that woman thinks. The phone rang again. I felt uncomfortable. It wells up. The drunken voice at the other end. The mysterious number it came from. The familiar guffaw. Oh the gift of cellular. We are tied to the device and it make me want to. break it. Burts is a busy place and I heard wyatt in the backround. He sounded like a lumber jack yelling at fallen years. So we went. I got there at (10 PM). I went straight to the back and didn’t even look around. There was a very sick girl in the bathroom that i fetched water for. on my way back out i heard my name through the smoke. It was the lumberjack. Hello sir and ladies. Oh look he’s sitting across from me at the booth. Excuse me I have to take care of something. After i heard the voice. “are you going to come sit over here at some point”
“i was having a conversation” i reply.

I slid in. not going for physical contact. avoiding it completely. This is dan, this is natalie. Hello…hello. I was sitting under the velvet mariner’s stare. Come over after this beer. It was all such a blurred watercolor. paint bleeding into smoke. I am wincing. It struck me from above. I am never as alone as I think. The loud lumber peanut gallery. We are suddenly squished by the return of jen from her id excursion. Into the uncomfortable position locking me in. And then it’s finally time to go. I stared at the mariner and dave’s glass heroine eyes. Sucking in the air as if it could provide me some comfort or relief. Off we went. Leaving the rest on warm december night. It was like any walk back to 14th street. The same route is always used.

Arrived at (11 PM). He put a movie on that i couldn’t hear. Don’t be a bitch. I love you. Here all I will say is that I am even more confused than ever. I will use jim’s definition of what the best kind of kiss is because he is entirely right: The perfect kiss is: genuine, long, coming after a long absence or admiration, and one that you didn’t expect to have when you got up that morning. I was asked to stay and at (4 AM) after he had fallen into a drunk coma I decided to walk back. It’s not like i know anything that i didn’t before.

That’s not the end. But I’ll spare you the rest so that your eyes can tear away from the screen. More to come. To be Continued…

So I updated the way the site looks. Erp. I wish I was better at reading code. It would have made the whole thing a lot easier. lemme know what you think. I have discovered a cool site called COLOURLovers. It has palettes that make choosing colors easy. Check it out.

It’s been updated. Ideas for Christmas. Look on the right. You’ll see it. I will be adding more. Basically lots of black turtlenecky things…

I was pretty bored last night and my adventure to the frontier landed me on Sabrina and Levi’s sofa to watch The Plague with James Van Der Beek (yeah he spells it that way, i looked it up). During the film I dubbed him The Beek. It’s just easier that way. I haven’t really been a fan of Mr. Barker since Hellraiser, was there really anything else? Not to worry he only slapped his name on this little baby. It was a straight to the shelves and an On Demand release. Digital cable is so wonderful in this way.

The Plague is a tale about children that all go into comas and then 10 years later wake up and start eating people’s souls. Or at least that’s what I surmised from the terrible screenplay. This is one of those films that you want to talk through the whole time. Otherwise it is completely unbearable and hard to follow. The best jokes we made were concerning what all the adults would do if there were no children for ten years. I forgot to mention that any child that was born was also comatose. Brilliant! What would video games center around? Girls gymnastics would totally be fucked. Etc.

The best part is The Beek anyway. He is a really buff version of himself from Dawson’s Creek and someone finally told him to put his hair over that huge fucking forehead. He’s also grown out the facial hair to soften his chin up a bit. What The Beek does best in this movie is reactionary facial expressions. He furrows his brows just the way you would want a confused bar brawling ex con to. The Beek delivers. Other than him there’s really no one else mentionable in this film.

What it comes down to is drinking heavily or being under the influence of something while hanging out with a lot of people. There is no other way to watch this film. It is one of the bad baddies that everyone enjoys making jokes during. I suggest starting a drinking game that centers around when the group of you says “awwww” in unison because it will happen. Every time the book Grapes of Wrath is shown would be another suggestion. There’s really no point in making any kind of symbolic parallel or plot connection during this one. You have to wonder…how did someone sell this to Clive, and then, why can’t I write terrible schlock?