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if pretention was pretending
my other homes:: The LunchBreaks / The BadCore June 2008
Tue, Oct. 9th, 2007 12:30 am

comeback episode of 'it's ok to cry' available at thegunsel.com

please please please download and listen. please tell your friends, please.


i'm not beyond begging.


Sat, Oct. 6th, 2007 01:24 am

how could i have ever hoped you'd love me?

a young boy at my grandmother's funeral, and
i tapdanced for the grieving.
i used her words as a cliche to spend my inheritance
and cheapened her memory to convince.

the night i almost left your side
full of confidence you'd lent me

i'd say something like
'i missed your back in the dark
and how you press yourself to me'
and with some work i'd fix my
free transgression.

how could i hope for it?

for all my fire, i am broken as you
as anyone, i hope.

i wouldn't have loved you truly
until we'd had time to lie.


Mon, Oct. 1st, 2007 11:03 pm
my home away from home is launched.

check out the new biographical compilation available at



Sun, Sep. 23rd, 2007 07:51 pm


just checke with babelfish to see how it translated this... and thought it was interesting... i realized there's an ambiguity in it that the translator would have to make a decision on.


At outside cloud
You became the one person, but
Fall it comes.


Sun, Sep. 23rd, 2007 07:20 pm
i've been in a place where it takes some time for things to happen and feel real enough to bother talking about. so much has been going on and yet i haven't written anything, even when i have an idea or something i feel i should get down before it goes away... there's always something holding me back from doing it. maybe i'm trying to redirect my energies, maybe it's just that i don't want to share myself in a public venue anymore.

on any given day i feel just fine, and really enjoy my job and my life here aside from a few typical complaints, but the other day, a friend asked me what i did last weekend. i always have a hard time assigning a list of things i did with a certain day of the week, because i never think 'oh it's saturday' when it's saturday, but this time it really bothered me. i thought back on the previous week or two, and just couldn't generate much of anything. i knew a few things that had happened, but wasn't sure if it was this past weekend or the one before. i've been having some really beautiful days, but i worry that i'm just letting them fade away as they happen—or worrying that maybe that's how i'm supposed to feel and act. i feel grateful for so many things, but i really do live day-to-day at the moment, and i'm trying to decide if i should punish myself or praise myself for this. i know i have work i like, friends i love, beautiful places to go, wonderful things to do... but my goals are intangible and based more on making me the kind of person i like than to complete things. i want to record and produce more, improve my songwriting and playing, learn new instruments, etc etc. i feel no shame in being a host at a restaurant, because it's the only job i've ever had that keeps me fully engaged—the only job i haven't had a bad day at (yet). still, i feel like i should be pushing towards something else, but also hesitate to push towards something rushed and that wouldn't make me happy or give me the time to dedicate to what makes me happy at least. i could potentially move to colorado in a few months and GM a pub/restaurant that a friend is building, which i would find more satisfying than most work... but it might not be a move for me...

the executive chef said i could start cooking with him, and i would love to do that kind of thing... the manager offered to make whatever i wanted happen for me in terms of moving up, so... who knows... maybe i could own a restaurant in a few years, or at least manage one. though the work is tiring and underpaid, i find it so much more satisfying to be there, associating directly with people and especially around great food and drink and conversation—it seems far more human to me than working on content in an office or some such...

i've been dwelling on the idea of death lately... inexplicably... and it makes me feel like so many things i've thought i could/would do are just wastes of time. being around people, making them happy, showing them hospitality and kindness—in whatever form—appeals so much more to me. in this position... free food and wholesale wine and great people appeals to me. i would rather be hosting at this place than coming home feeling drained and unaccomplished from some job i didn't feel a connection with.

but yet, the time seems to pass without me noticing, and i feel like i might just be treading water, in spite of greater enjoyment i find in my endeavors... i can't tell if the answer is to push to go forward, like we all seem to be programmed to fight for 'better'... or if the trick is to be at peace with the peace and happiness i've found and just spend time letting that keep me.


Mon, Jul. 30th, 2007 01:47 am
i really don't know how i live this sometimes. on some days everything is a joke and on others, forgetful. one afternoon i feel close to where i've been, and on that night it is so far that i have to remind myself not to touch it, for fear it will break or have never existed before—like by reaching i could step back in time and take these moments from myself... all in an attempt to make them live just another day.

there is such promise in certain paths, but every day i spend anxious that it won't come, or that the right thing won't be what i want to be right. i looked at apartments in new zealand on a whim, and suddenly the world plops itself down in front of me and says 'what the fuck are ya gonna do?'. i don't know. i feel like my inertia is far too easy to sustain and that the things that motivate me are few. the idea of up and leaving is sometimes more appealing than continuing with what i know, but i'm sick of stopping and letting things dry out and break.

i'm dangerously close to getting close enough to be vulnerable, and it is daunting at best. what lends this idea to me but pure chemistry and emotion? it feels lovely. still, i know i've thought how simple it would be to not know anybody now. i spent so much time moving that i am spread across the country and across the world. why not move to sweden or italy, why not go back to japan, why not back to new york? i want all and i decide on none.

sometimes i want to blame it for how i am now—i want to believe i was like peter when he got married... that things were good and set and easy... to take part in something your friends call 'blinding'.

it takes time, but you get to see how right they are, but usually after the blindness gives way to clarity. it is never sudden, but grows in completeness. how could it happen becomes a statement of query.

i don't want to carry any part of what has hurt me sometimes... but if i got rid of it, how could i know that these new hands are more gentle? how could i know gratefulness without knowing desertion?

how odd it is that in all these circumstances, i feel gratefulness first, then an announcement of reflection after. i am thankful and afraid, i am thankful and angry, i am thankful and excited, i am thankful and hopeful...

but always, just to know that i'm allowed to rest on your leg and you will remind me that my hair stands up when fingers comb through it... that is enough to remind me why anybody has survived beyond the short taste of love and deceit in the first kisses of childhood—beyond the cruelty of the traitors that lay dormant within us until we have warmed someone to their most vulnerable. for this reminder of potential and kindness and love, i am always grateful first.

"You are like nobody since I love you." - Pablo Neruda


Sat, Jul. 21st, 2007 10:29 pm



Wed, Jul. 18th, 2007 12:27 am
it's strange how these habits form.

how a weeknight will come around and
whims run the game.
the next plate, the next drink,
the action before, the action after...

i end up talking a bit too long
about things i think too much about -
someone who i like or
someone who doesn't love me or
someone who doesn't love me anymore.
...what i'm going to do next, when
this all fades with travel and time.

it has become so regular that
most of the time i'll come down this road
and see the lights turn red
all at once before blinking yellow
til tomorrow morning.

a friend called me for my address
even though he could walk to my house in the dark.
he needs a reference for an apartment
and can't remember the number of the house.
he fills out a line on the application
reminding us it's been 10 years since we met.

on the way home a song comes on
that i found familiar a while back
but now it reminds me only of when and not why.

it was raining a little bit in the summer
and we tried to save a turtle wanting to cross the road.
this was the first time i remember in new hampshire -
buying a ton of cheap beer for his little brother and
loving a car of people shutting up without being asked
at a quiet song.

the lights turn to a blinking yellow and
at least a mile ahead, a slow pulse down the streets.

a heated mile down the beach at
and i keep slapping my legs, bitten and sunburned
not knowing later today i'll feel at home with you.
naked and aching with the nantucket sun
with recently requited tastes.

i'll pass this way like it was years ago

wishing while trailing behind you in the tidepools,
bashful and silenced by passion and anger...

that this was a distance as easy to cross
as the few feet i had to cover to shake your hand and say hello.


Thu, Jul. 5th, 2007 06:33 am
this morning i feel both older and younger at the same time.

i am off to my job—selling sake—and i have to put on clothing that fits the position. costco requires me to take out my labret piercing and cover my tattoos. i am a bit upset about the labret, as i think it will close up by tonight... it makes me feel older to have to do something like that, but i feel that clean shaven and without a piercing, i look like some 20 year old preppy kid. it's a little depressing, but the amount of money this will bring in is nothing to scoff at, so i let it go a little bit, but still... it's odd.


Wed, Jul. 4th, 2007 11:40 pm

his voice aged when he spoke about her,
this girl he loved so many years ago.
we were crossing the golden gate bridge
and the sun was climbing down the side of the bay
the fogline intermittent, like morse code on the water.
"i carried a torch for her for years" he said.
the time had passed, ultimately,
and she didn't come back.

what a kind gesture, i thought—

he carried a torch for her.

for years he walked, a quiet crackling flame at his side
as if to say that should she get lost in the dark,
he would always be just on the horizon—
a dot of light murmuring in the wake of the waves.