april 2002 || may 2002 || june/july/august 2002 || September 2002

visit my melo site for all new writing. trust me, you won't be disappointed. the location is poetry all over the place.

12/16/02 @ 02:50AM monk;Scribble

-----

i've forgotten to write in here so much that my head hurts. i will update you
more often, i swear.

i found a girl that i love. it's insane. nuff said.

12/01/02 @ 12:04PM monk;Scribble

-----

eeks. neglect. i am such a sour-puss. still writing a LOT.. LOT.. LOT..
mainly poetry, but i will return to my story in a bit, and try to
force more out. i wonder if anyone knows of any publishers out there.
i've got the hookup, but i wanna just send out like my non-really good
stuff and get that thrown on page.

10/15/02 @ 6:50AM monk;Scribble

-----

working on gucci screaming again. I hope to possibly manage to scrap
another 10-12 paragraphs out of it by weekend. Joyce is planning on
throwing up the first section in a teaser for flippersmack. It will
be illustrated. Can't wait to see the madness begin to hit california.

so war seems probably over in the middle-east. it's like a risk game, almost
with the absurd hoarding of troops over time, waiting for that one chance
to take the country that will give you control over the world again.
i'm betting on the roll of the dice to dictate this outcome.

need a hug. it's justifiable i think. of course, under a court of law
i'd probably lose that case.

10/09/02 @ 12:27AM monk;Scribble

------

this impeccable unattainable world. it creeps up on you while you
sleep. you slumber away waiting for that moment to see the sun ray
smack you cross-eyed, and what happens? you forget to eat breakfast,
your kids don't make it to school on time. the earth caves in.

in the meantime though, we did discover the earth is round. chalk one up
for pioneering travellers. it only took 5-600 years. it's reminiscent of
the whole Palestinean/Israeli conflict. everyone thinks it will be resolved
by us, through force, in a matter of a decade or so. nevermind the fighting
has been going on for half a century and they don't seem ready to stop.

check out flippersmack. it's a cool web-thing,
magazine, porno reader (maybe not porno but real, not in the real world sense)
kind of art/story featurette. you can only read so much crap out there on the
web, it's about time to treat yourself to a bit of that chunky chocolate gooey
ice cream you've been deserving for awhile.

in late breaking fashion, the polls have resulted in a landslide victory for
Gregorian chanting over Martha Stewart Living. Go figure, you can only
put flowers together in so many ways, while you can hoot and howl
in a multitude of variations.

October. Boo.

it's almost there. trust me. i saw the light coming through the cracks of
your broken window. just remember to wake up tomorrow. it's worth it.
and that is all i can say about absolutely nothing today. from a remote
locale, complete with coffee and crack-heads, i'm signing off.

10/08/02 @ 12:14AM monk;Scribble

------

when you reach the pinnacle of achieving over 24 hours of non-sleep,
whether through multiple amounts of drugs, late night talk radio, surfing
an internet that shuts itself off on you every 30 to 45 minutes, or
watching C grade late night movies on the 2000+ channels that are beamed
into your house via stolen wires, you tend to not recognize many
things that are going on around you.

i feel like the weird desert guy in the doors movie, that jim morrison sees
after countless experiments in dubious deeds. it happens once in awhile.

i just know i need sleep. it will come like a bill in the mail, or
some person knocking at the door wanting to sell really bad stuff that
no one cares about. i'd rather settle for fake sleep that assaults all
the senses and makes you feel the same way you do when actually not-existing.

i'm starting to randomly construct sentences of nature that have nothing to do with each other, make no sense except in some very odd literal sense that only i get the time i write it and fail to recognize afterwords. also, this major concern of mine is that i will eventually run out of new ways to describe everything out there in bizarre fashion. there are only so many ways you can dispute the difference between pop culture and personal style in the english language, and pretty soon those will become null and void.

i might have to find a ghost-writer to appease my curiousity.

i need a hug. i know where i can get one, but i don't feel like a 4 hour trip elsewhere right now just to pop in and say let me hold you for about an hour.

that's all. sorry for the lack of interesting stuff to read on here. i'm lazy.

10/01/02 @ 5:16PM monk;Scribble

------

The justification of arkansas is no more. Apparently, the entire state is moving to St. Louis for a weekend, the same time I was supposed to go. Instead, I stay.

the planetary alignment's are gone.

09/15/02 @ 2:12PM monk;Scribble

------

Day two of the barrage that is placed before me. I have yet to succumb to the pressure and anxiety that a trip of such magnitude should place into my hands. I say "play it by ear". It seems only months ago, that the contemplation of this angle had never entered my head, which is very true. However, events over the last 2 days have pressured me into delving full-force into this masochist ideology that I need to be elsewhere. Ok, actually, I have placed notions into my head I need to be elsewhere soon.

It's not the thought of a cold dark isolated location that keeps me up at nights. It's not the buzz or the commotion caused by so many commuters trafficking there way down into the southern climate. I think it's more the barrage of questions that will be asked when I arrive.

The people there just don't seem to understand others as well as they should. It reminds me of the 1950s or even the early 80s punk movement. When the differences in dress caused people to sweat a bit. I can only fathom how a sincerely nice guy like myself will handle such pressure-filled situations when the time arises.

I can see the scene playing out before me like a bad game of poker. On one hand, I have the do-gooder being honest with the cards dealt before them, and knowing exactly how life will turn out, barring any sudden stops due to a miscue between them and their protector. On my hand, I have a honest and gut reaction to all things causing tenseness within, and have to accordingly react to situations that I may not have been involved in before. So, the do-gooder-ites will lay forth their neatly stacked and carefully put together hand of cards and announce, "ho ho.. a full house", to which I will just have to either bluff my way into winning, which at that point we all know is futile. Instead, I see myself laying down my full house that just barely beats there hand, and instead of gloating like the apparition that they seem to think I will be, I will gladly just accept the chance win as it is, and offer a second game, that they can win. It's about being equal anyways.

People strive to find perfection. Whether they find it in a being, a mirror, or their last fast food meal, it's up to them. My thoughts consist of solely the ability to look at someone and smile. I know the trip will be worth it.

I haven't slept good the last 3-4 days. I haven't really eaten either. You know you are at the point of possible starvation when your body starts making all sorts of weird pains or sends signals to places of your body that you have never felt things before. I think it's a sign I am either fading from not enough calories, or I'm getting stronger. We'll see soon.

Going back to the sleep thing though. It's amazing the kind of perception that you have when you really get on a truly bizarre sleeping schedule or lack thereof. I've found myself dazing into the air due to smoking just because it's all I feel at the moment. Of course, I also have felt light-headed, tear-struck, maddening, lost, and other various states of emotional undress. It's comforting to know that at least creativity comes out a bit during such times of play.

I've been thinking about writing some short stories, and seeing if I can't just put together a little staple book with them, call it "three and a half" or something equally as entertaining to myself. I'll have to consult with the publishing guru that is known as pinguino and see what she thinks.

09/13/02 @ 11:29AM monk;Scribble

------

It's been settled. I have to somehow find a way to sneak across treacherous borders, dodging guards, dogs, and the occasional lit cigarette on the ground. I know you are asking yourself, but why would you have to dodge all these implements of capture? Very simply put. I am on my way in a week or so, down into the rustic jungle, the eerie eerieness of a state. Not just any normal state, with their state bird, state song, and state pair of under-roos, no no no no. This state happens to have a mythology about it, a history, a factoid that has lived on longer than most of it's inhabitants. Arkansas. eww. I said it. Seems a bit devious, devilish, doesn't it. Almost like the word itself conjures up meanings beyond meanings of how evil the place can truly be.

I get to go though, and after dodging the uniforms and poisoned darts, I will find myself smack dab in an "our way is the only way" society. Regardless of if I believe or not, I can't understand force as an issue when making viewpoints. So, I shall find myself battling the good people, only to show them that I am indeed a good person, and not part of that twisted Arkansas underbelly that follows the ancient principles of home schooling for nefarious reasons.

Why would I go through all this? The hardships of making it there, the hardships of battling the holy denizens just to prove that you are not evil. A girl. I know, let me make light of the situation, by just stating a girl.

Oh, but not just an ordinary girl. Someone who can think and make me smile. Someone I just need to see at this point, because i'm tired of just reading and feeling good everyday. Ok. I really am not tired of it, I just wanna hug her.

So in 8 days or less, I trek off to the forbidden land, not to rescue the girl, because she is strong enough to kick enough ass down there and keep afloat, but to join the girl and just have a good time for a weekend, and get her mind off of the treachery and debauchery that goes on in those parts of the world.

If I do not make it back, it'll be because I am captured by the guards, dogs, lunch lady, or the deep-rooted conspiracy organization I.N.C.E.S.T. (International Network of Companies Evolving Stereotypical Torture) and may never make it out alive. Note that, as much as I feel I can survive the hostile country and escape, this may be the last note that reaches you good people. Well except for the next 5-6 days of writing until I actually trek forth. But, let this serve as a warning if no other writing follows, Arkansas can swallow you whole, unless you have the strength to combat it's many minions.

Take care.

09/12/02 @ 6:13PM monk;Scribble

------

blip. i said all i need to say last year around this time. i don't feel the need to be an "anti-american" as a lot of people do, nor do i feel the urge to let my "patriotism" run blindly. i feel sad for the people that can't move these days.

i really need to get un-lazy and move this over to the gorgeous space that is being provided by the one and only ping. Of course, since my laziness factor is astounding high these days i think the chances of me migrating might be awhile.

"the caravan only comes at night; stolen whispers and bodies drift away."

regrettably i am.

09/11/02 @ 10:40PM monk;Scribble

------

ALRIGHT. SUE ME. IT'S SEPTEMBER. Before the lack of a host took place, and then the sheer laziness on my part, i had a website. It died due to the mishaps of the host I am on, Eccentrix. Ok, I can deal with that. Then I got lazy, and now I am back on them, just because I cannot bear to deal with linux/unix boxes and logins currently. So, here I am, straight from inbetween a bunch of mountain ranges, next to a river, and watching some redneck beat his wife up, my life. When I last left you, it was hoo-hum, doo-drum. It is well, ho-hum, doo-drum. However, behind the magic eightball that continually lies to your face, I have been enjoying decent conversation with my friends, including the great one-eyed peg-legger Wally Wumpett, and of course the usual lot, consisting of, the mad italian, little miss hot pants, and some girl from Columbia, not the drug place, but well, ok, it probably is a drug place, just not South of my border, ya know. That's it this day. G'night.

09/09/02 @ 2:41AM monk;Scribble

------

i seem to not write anymore. i feel like i am making everyone, everything just seem so much further away then they should be. i should write. i should let all my thoughts out, release, release, release.... like a fisherman popping the poor bass back into the water. fuck america. we are egotistical. we are intrepid. we are the mighty and the weak all rolled into one. we kill for killing sake, and we laugh at those less fortunate. there are countries worse off. there are cultures broken in two. there are people dying for no reason, and that is all true. but america the big land of freedom we all cry each and every day, the red white and blue, sprinkled with all sorts of gray. we are not the beautiful. we are not the free. all you have to do is walk down the street to see, that what we are is a big iron fist, with a big middle finger sticking out, and a small prick. we like to wag it around to every other country and show them how proud we are to be so small hearted. that is what i think. sue me.

7/30/02 @ 7:22PM monk;Scribble

------

i'm sorry for the banner ad. apparently the really nice hosting has turned to the darkside and threw it at you. i apologize for not writing either. i'm sad.

7/25/02 @ 5:32PM monk;Scribble

------

delayed reaction. i seem to have that lately. it's been over a week or so and well, i haven't updated. these are trying times in america, not as trying as the depression of the great late 20s or so, but the depression of me.

i'm behind on bills. go figure. pretty soon the lawsuits, bill collectors, and guys in black coats start to come. i need to get a job. meaningless. pointless. job. soon.

do the ends justify the means? does my justification use on each paragraph perpetuate falicies? inquiring minds need to know.

7/18/02 @ 8:55PM monk;Scribble

------

decadence, and a bit of class. audrey hepburn was just such a perfect lady. she had those dreamy eyes, with the always competent hairstyle. the perfect outfit to just match her body, and sometimes a cigarette. wow. It makes you wonder why everyone wanted Marilyn.

just seeing if anyone is still paying attention, no one talks to me anymore really. i have an email address, but i understand the silent bob characteristics of the net. The nature of reading about others lifes in the background. It's kinda funny though, if you think about it, because in here I typically never really mention my life usually, I tend to just rant and rave on subjects that make no sense but seem to. A bit odd perhaps. So for that one shout-out, of how my week was.

i drank sake. i drank alcohol. i passed out. Vanilla Sky was good, as is Vanilla Coke. New Wave is cool. period.

7/06/02 @ 7:18PM monk;Scribble

------

i've gone from having a happenstance of activity to none at all. I know, I exude the possibilities of boredom and dreariness, and my writing style is definitely sub-par. But, typically golfers enjoy sub-par status as well. I guess if i had the cool socks and the cabana boy hat I would be just as special.

Instead i'll just ponder how it looks to be the only one on the block with a badtz maru alarm clock, skittles that don't bit the rainbow, and a very happening scene that consists of just me. Enjoy the day.

7/05/02 @ 6:02PM monk;Scribble

------

palo alto. the dead panned sky. that wonderful way you were able to make rabbits out of smog. you ever wonder what it would be like if we just fell in.

the suitors are calling. they keep demanding my time, my attention, my ever-waking moment, ever-changing perception, revolving thimble. i just hang up after each unknown caller presents the dead air. the cuffs will just chafe anyway when they are put on.

can i be anymore abstract with my thinking, then thinking this way?

7/01/02 @ 3:50PM monk;Scribble

------

there is a wonderful person just minutes away from me right now. she dreams in multi-color and b-grade. unfortunately, this weekend has been such a failure i most likely won't get to see her. i've missed out on two parties that friends threw, and now this. what's the use. this aquarian/pisces is too old.

6/30/02 @ 4:20PM monk;Scribble

------

there's chalk on my skin, etched deep within. scars of summers past, and lovers left on the road cloud my thoughts. they said summer this year would make the rest seem abysmal, yet i keep falling in line. you never knew me, you never cared, i never stayed long enough, i never felt.

this turquoise sky is disrupting. this floating moating pool just laughs at me. those people mowing lawns threaten me. i hate the color green. i wish it was 10 years ago, and things were simple. you play a song, you fall asleep, and you study. the learning curve is harder, longer, scarier, and i never liked rollercoasters anyays.

6/28/02 @ 4:07PM monk;Scribble

------

death to vegas and parent's just don't understand.
forget summer, winter is so much more relaxing.

6/26/02 @ 2:14PM monk;Scribble

------

justification is all for naught. beware of those little turnstiles that stop you from subway cars. i plan on Lo. i plan on a heavyweight championship. I plan on many things, like car insurance.

6/24/02 @ 8:12AM monk;Scribble

------

sleep deprivation hits me worse than a bad comic book. it comes out of the blue and snaps my neck in two, leaving me gurgling that leftover water on the ground.

i hope your friday is more than just visiting, and you can finally be part of that night air. enjoy.

6/21/02 @ 10:50AM monk;Scribble

------

the atlas comes. dirtbike saga. you ran away.
the water's cold. summertime, summer love, summer dreams,
squashed; a bad game of tennis.

------

they never knew...

one hand. it's all you ever knew.
back to skin, leaving red marks all over.
you thought of them as temporary tattoos
when you were younger,
little did you know.

he said come here darling, keep me warm
late at night, there's room under the blanket.
you never liked the talk shows
or the stroke at midnight,
scars tucked under thick layers.

justifiable, deserving, terms you use these days.
you just want some coffee not a heartbeat
that twitches everytime the street turns.

people knew. it's in their nature.
turn the head, leaving bad tastes all over.
you thought of them as unguarded watch towers
when you were younger,
letting the enemy in.

the officer said turn the cheek, now again
sometimes the photos, they don't take too well.
you never liked the solid colors
or the bars for windows,
wiping blood away from your lips.

regrettable, sorrowful, terms they use these days.
you borrow that creamer in the open market
that keeps eyes out these days.

-----

i'm cold. fluffy blanket requisition force is out.

6/18/02 @ 11:09AM monk;Scribble

------

under suspicion of investigation i flee into the night. they said the robberies were becoming multiple now and occuring at similiar times. i said i sleep at those times.

they said what do you know of dreams. we might have to polygraph your answers to verify your sleeping habits. i said what do i know of dreams. ha. what do i know. i know they inflict pain across your entire body in the span of 2 to 8 hours, and cause you to regret any single moment you wished you had never had. they also manage to make you go through a century of living in a matter of minutes. whether you laugh, cry, love, adore, romance, or relinquish you're there. it's real. you feel. but, none of it is meaningful.

taken aback by the frankness of the conversation, they left. i always felt that i could alert them to the real nature of the robberies. it just seems they wouldn't realize who did them when they woke up.

----

welp. that is what i feel like. yep.

6/17/02 @ 6:48PM monk;Scribble

------

frozen turquoise. watermelon whimpers. wasted luggage. 3 different meanings. 3 different loves. sometimes i repeat myself all the time, and i freeze the rubbage i found on the corner of my stair, i stare so hard at the wall, hoping something will enlighten me, frighten me, keep me occupied in this time of occupation, corruption, greed is not in my vocabulary, i misspell it so little. i forgive those around me faster than i care about myself, timid, shy, little me, stuck in this box, i try to think outside of. the air was cold that night. you always wonder why i say the things i do, because that is who i am. i cannot be anyone else, but the world wishes sometimes. i wish sometimes. a magical ride through the suburbs brings about memories, history of picket fences, stolen kisses, and a dog always barking at the wrong time. where is mr. rogers and the postal truck when you need them? the bells ring only once a week as ice cream drifts by. swift of foot, means you get to lick. i'm jumbled. i'm worthless. answer your new york city crossword puzzle. it's easier to figure out. independent, immaculate, the record grooves, all things i aspire to comprehend. love, that four letter word dripping with so much meaning and so much sarcasm, it makes you realize that sometimes pictures can convey the emotion better than those cheap paper cups filled of water could. i could go on and on but i'd rather stop now while the tears dry and the sun rises.

6/15/02 @ 4:36AM monk;Scribble

------

i was told i was beautiful today. it brought a smile to a face that needed one. thank you. i appreciate it. i only wish i could get some cuddle time once in awhile, but i guess that is what the penguins are for, aren't they.

in other striking events, i did not get hired after the interview, that means the long cold road has begun. i need to find something, anything, someone, anyone to just be around. i'm scaring myself lately with all this negativity that i have within and all these happy positive thoughts i am letting out just to try to remain laughing.

i'll push through it though. i think so. i've got the motivation somewhere in a back pocket, and some rather interesting outtakes of an old movie i never saw. it's amazing how you wonder. *grin

forget me nots. forget me. forget that week. you've seen the emphasis on certain words lately, haven't YOU. they imply nothing, just though i'd say that. and i'm off like a rusty tin can, in a bad game of homeless soccer.

6/13/02 @ 5:13AM monk;Scribble

------

an interesting turn of events. apparently the sky fell inwards. now i am in a bubble. SOCIAL DISTORTION: was awesome. a great experience, very very nice to see those boys and rock out for one night, feel great, feel alive, feel like the world meant something, rather than got removed by a stick from my shoe.

in other pressing matters, coconut love is dubious. the white stripes are coming. beware. FEEL free to email me at any time, as well, my life is boring, and i have no cool friends, other than like 2. I need some people to spark my awkwardness.

did i mention that spandex is up there with spam on lunatic fringe creativity. it makes andy warhols paintings achieve whole new levels of artistic height, and i mean that in a good light. free the salmon. that is all today.

6/12/02 @ 3:39PM monk;Scribble

------

delays. delays. the plane flight never left. the tickets were voided. all searching has stopped. they'll never find out what was in that bag. cargo holds just don't rely on valuable information that much. btw, did you ever truly notice that sometimes shaking is expected.

in a twisting turning taking world,
a breaking shaking world,
the chest pains take their toll,
the heat collapses down upon you,
the sidewalks aren't safe anymore.

in this ever-reaching seeking world,
this truly impossible to know world,
you can be harassed without turning your back,
attacked for just stopping to ask
begging to just crawl back into your shell.

the injustice, justice, revolution world,
the regret, sorrow, whatever world,
it never ceases to slip one on past,
you'll forget about feeling sometimes
you'll forget about breathing sometimes
and you'll die a little bit at a time.

6/09/02 @ 2:29PM monk;Scribble

------

well. june. june june june. Sweet june. she was lovely back during the frozen periods of time.
those days i withstood the gusts of wind and her fainted breath on the back of my neck. the way she rubbed my shoulder gently, relaxingly, like she just wanted me to move the direction she chose.

I remember those steps she used to sit on, and stare from. the boys playing with their plastic toys. the girls with ribbons. i remember her smile. it came out when you least expected it.

she always said stars appear only when you truly want them to, otherwise they just would rather hide. she left me a long time ago, almost a year or so, but i knew she would come back again. she likes to surprise me like that. a little bit of hands over eyes medicine. peek-a-boo.

it's amazing how you smile just the same after the distance.

6/04/02 @ 7:41AM monk;Scribble

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

copyright, trademark, bleh bleh, on all pages are reserved for companies that are shown. all others are monk. woo.