James’ blog

TODAY

I have hair like dog fur
I have problems with sudden down moments and cracking up and strangers at bus stops and being professional and having people read my thoughts without bothering to tell me and most aspects of society as I know it
My favorite color is green, but not really
I lose things too frequently and check words to make sure I really know them, which I really do, by the way
I think I sound like a dumb puppet but you (whoever you freaken are) probably won't understand
I have different tastes in music as I like the taste of rock
I paint things but only in the least amount of time, meaning I get a lot of abstract compositions
I lose interest in things and I like to have people see what they want to see instead of what's titled in a corner
(Double-entendre?)
I make a lot of those but I have to watch out for the sharper people
I hear things and think things before someone actually says it
I'm used like favorite jewelry when they see I'm lookin' handy
I taste weird things in different waters
The smell of my deodorant is fascinating
I walk funny when I walk by people who I think are thinking I walk funny so I'm stuck with a funny walk
I guess I'm funny in some ways sometimes
I wish I could jump out of any window safely
Sometimes I sing because I like to hear myself and don't mind what people are trying to do too often
I have great teeth, I suppose, but I want braces
I really wouldn't mind if I had to wear headgear for a month or two; it would be an excuse for my lisp I hear. It would complete me.

Honestly. I'm a dork. I feel so unnatural I'm surprised it's become so natural. I'm really an exceptional guy, but I think it's only because I'm an exception to other people. I don't fit in to many categories we are compelled to make as teenagers. I freak out about things, overthink things which gives me an untuned instinct of things I can immediately anticipate. I have sudden daydreams of things I worry that I'd do spontaneously and I have little stabs of genuineness when I'm barely sincere. FREAK FREAK FREAK.

YESTERDAY
Has anyone composed you a ballad comprised of half-smiles and times in which all that lay between you and yourself was the body you've inherited from birth among the many other breathing counterparts that would come to be in time as the words tied themselves to the pictures of the days you were the time of a life where dust blows past slow roads with cars with nowhere left to go but around the same streets with names that only half matter in the place time only half exists?
I'm sure we've all tried.

AND THE DAY BEFORE
Sometimes you stick to my mind like cotton candy at my fingertips when I'm smoking HOT in the rain and feeling up the orchestrated raindrops combing through my hair to sizzle at my thoughts which are at times the perfect moment and place to ask me what I'm thinking in my speech-impeded brain so maybe I won't fuck up in my effort to say what I mean because that is usually what I try not to do as a public faux paus to maintain composure as an even keel otherwise I'd blurt out a kiss
or something stupid like that.

She paints whats on her mind
namely
intellectual somethings and music distinct to her style of golden hair, art-class-manner and amazing photogenic personality
as
you
can
see
while you look at her across the universe where she resides in and looks back with eyes blue I imagine came from living in the land of ice, or staring at the sun too long
(although you'd never tell sunlight had the privilege of touching that space of warm porcelain skin)
and if you heard her, you'd hear the better things worth talking about
that keep you wondering how she makes you wonder
orsomethingalongthoselines
with smiles to cover all minor pains, tucking away the last of despairs and what have you, so you can revel in this incredible lapse of calm

or play.

Let's take down all the little bits of us and string them along our necks
You're so pretty adorned with all the little memories of our little triumphs and little wrecks
And the nostalgia tides us over as the beads of yesterday beat against the heart
Delicate and vague they grow, and with frailty they fall apart

Let's collect the best of yesterdays, as much as we remember
From conversations, art, escapes and things caught from late November
To temper into rings to place onto fingers or into lips
The brittle memories start to fade, and then the rest just rips

Why take these little bits of us to wear?
To hold onto tightly or fasten in your hair?
We're still here there are still things
We'll find, anything that next week brings

Let's drive somewhere
Let's stay close
Of whatever is left
We can make the most

Small thoughts catch like spider thread,
Sticking at the back of my emptied head
To all that is remembered and all that is said.
Hair cut short and fatigued eyes red,
Our shoes lined up and hunger fed,
Gentleman and lady characters shed,
Tattooed imaginations are taken to bed.
We amount to dreams only to be led
To trivial memories long past dead.

Thoughts constricting like spider thread,
Giving depth to a hollow head.
Remembering "I miss you"s and promises said,
On roads under dust beneath sunsets in red.
Shoes in disarray and we're nocturne-fed.
These daytime personae and manners are shed
To fall asleep exhausted in an innocent bed.
Simply talking and thinking and dreaming had led
To appreciating the fact that we're far from dead.

Speaking cotton dreams and climbing shipwrecks rusted,
Sneaking into homes to leave visits un-busted,
Eating over bridges and planning out our fates,
Losing track of hours and losing track of dates.
Playing in the playgrounds and flying towards the sky,
Dancing in the heat of night and waiting for the sigh,
Running off to God-knows-where and missing you when I'm gone,
Another summer rolling away, another summer to long.
Call me, tell me, dance, you must
And so goes the way of the land of dust.
Time doesn't matter unless you're leaving,
But escaping is usually a part of daydreaming,
In a town so small, there's fun in screaming,
So you know when you hear it, you know that you're breathing.