Summertime Howl

While watching Bravo you are bound to see at least three Bravo ads every commercial break. I don’t get it. They’ve won. I’m already watching Bravo.

And she is screaming in the kitchen breaking some things.

I bought Miller 64 cause I thought I was getting fatter. I just drink twice as many.

“I need something from you!” she says and puts her head down on the counter.

Ramen is a good snack. I remember when it was ten cents a package, now it’s almost thirty. What a rip off.

She tears at her shirt “Can’t you see me bleed? Don’t you see anything? Don’t you care? If you want me gone, just say it.”

I don’t. If she could just sit and be quiet, we could watch Top Chef and everything would be fine.

1st Words

1st words

here i'm catching your words in the air like a butterfly who is

fluttering his winds inside the morning breeze. it's strange to find

somebody who could understand deep feelings and to keep looking scents

and learning with the sunrise message. in that way, magic changes a pc

for a soul, and gives me the possibility to share everything i find,

lost pieces to unite two lands. here where i am , i can feel the

nature smells , but not like yesterday. everyday and every time people

is robbing our environment, creating lifestyles, imposing rules, which

i don't believe. because i still believe in the strong and

unpredictable soul language that in silence can communicate more than

usual. so that idea let me feel that all we do isn't just trying to

survive, and it's to learn more, growing like van gogh sunflowers

looking for the sun, enjoying each moment and understanding that world

has hidden surprises for us ,and all we have to do is getting that,

and live the process knowing that our melancholic and our joy transcend

like our wild nature, waiting for the time to meet each other in a

same halo.

Acabo de pensar en esos momentos de estar volando en el cielo liquido

del mar, el mismo mar que tal ves nos une y separa. pero ¿Alguna vez

has visto la cantidad de colores y formas que guarda nuestro mar, el

mismo que esta entre el imaginario de tu urbe y la mia? es el primer

paso para acercarnos,ademas es entrar a un avismo infinito de

silencios en donde reconoces lo pequenos que podemos ser y lo mucho

que podemos cambiar todo. sin embargo, camino por las mismas calles

olvidadas, tratando de esperar la primera lluvia y tambien imaginarte

y en un suspiro robarte una de esas sonrisas escondidas que tienes.

pero no estas en ese plano solamente siento con tus palabras la misma

sensacion de poesia que yo con un alma dispuesta a ser descubierta y

compartida. poco a poco te ire entregando algo de mis sueños para que

pongas el color que mas te guste. no se te olvide tocar el los

delicados rayos de sol que se filtran entre los arboles, respirar,

llevarte de la piel de tu amada el perfume con el que escribe su juego

de seduccion. no olvides saborear, probar, soñar reirte y llorar y

tambien que la luna es la misma que te da la luz y que ilumina las

noches y dias en que mis palabras vuelan hasta abrazarte pero se que

hay cosas que se escriben en la piel espero poder hacerlo.

Stefannia Doria

Please, I Need A Ride Out

I now regret dropping that acid.

It’s a steamer out and August hasn't been very good to me. Justin dropped by and gave me a couple hits wrapped in tin foil. I took them, went to the lake and the algae in the water was buzzing electric.

I went back to the house and Big Tom was there eating eggs and bacon out of the frying pan, sweating like a goddamn monster and I quick took a shower.

And closed my eyes, and for a second I was lost, folded peels, pushed inside themselves.

Then I forced my eyes open and gasped. I turned off the water and for a second I was alright again. But then I noticed the flies. They all had long trails so the hundred flies in the house looked like a trillion. Which was scary as shit so I ran out the front door.

Just then Newman pulled up and I jumped in his truck. We drove a few miles out of town which felt like the other side of the world. I drank savagely from the artesian well that sat on a long stretch of ghost house road.

I felt it there, the distance between farmers and their shadows.

“Do you want to go to a party?” Newman asked. I agreed and drank out of a bottle of Jack under the passenger seat.

It was a 3 PM on a Tuesday. Neither occurred to me.

And we drove to a pole shed on the big farm over looking highway H and I understood what was going on.

“What is this party for?” I ask.

“My aunts 50th birthday.”

I swear under my breath and we head in anyway.

First things first, his mom comes up and takes off my glasses and asks me if I’m one of Newman’s druggie friends.

“I don’t think so but my PO does” I say. She doesnt laugh but she tells us to get some food anyway. They have a great spread but I don’t want to eat anything.

I keep thinking I am seeing truths but I get distracted and figure I should get a plate, to look normal if nothing else.

I sit down with his grandparents and drunk uncle and look down at my plate. I pick up a chicken leg but the meat is squirming around on the bone so it takes me a second to bite into it.

I sigh with relief because I am being largely ignored. I lean back and light a cigarette. Three guys in kaki shorts and Hawaiian shirts play a cover of Freebird in the corner.

Let Me Clarify

Do not drink and blog. Nothing good will come of it. unlike this picture, which everything good will come from. I am alive,

your friend,

sean

if

Don't worry. my will is in my email. I'll bother my brother to figure that out.

fuck everything.

Satisfaction

The search is over. You’ve found what you’re looking for.

Cocaine Is An Empty Promise

It was easy and it shouldn't have been.

I dated Becky Reynolds and Jamie Sandoval. I pitched some good games in high school, I was pretty good at the guitar (before I quit). I told good jokes, I could drink a lot of beer, I wore cool clothes and had a lot of friends. I was popular.

When I finished school I figured it would be golden, from there on out.

Now I’m at the corner bar by the race tracks and no one is looking at me. No one is laughing or buying me drinks. Got no job, got no honey. I got shit, that’s what I got.

My degenerate friends, as least as slimy as I am, call me “dirty”.

Sometimes, I’ll sit and eat in a chair by the road. I’ll watch people pick their noses while driving but they are going somewhere. To or from work, getting their kids from daycare.

Eventually I’ll turn away and look in the store windows. I’ll get distracted by a fly on the wall or an Indian girl with a nice ass and short black shorts.

I wish I had been abused more, pushed more, ridiculed more, hit more, embarrassed more. Humbled, then humbled again and again.

Cause if I had it wouldn't hurt so bad to be like this. To be a shadow, to fall in and out of love for the first and last time when you were sixteen, to be a terrible drunk, and to fail, endlessly.

But I always remember I have some friends and a family. No matter what I cannot give up because in the end I may have a chance to dive on a bomb for them.