I've been searching everywhere....

for i am an island
of a boy

and i often miscommunicate
what it is that i truly want to say

about who i am
and not what others
tell me

for people are strange animals
never meant to be tamed
just misunderstood

i have had to write a whole
new map
of the human heart
this year.

so believe in
me

as i believe
in you....


i can only go forward from here
in an exquisite way

a deep, meaningful journey
inside of myself

It's up to you, yeah you.

the best-laid plans of men and mice are no more than just good intentions if never acted upon..

so many individuals lead lives of quiet desperation, i breathe in through my mouth and cast myself into the fire, swimming until i find my stride, for what is this life if not for this elusive happiness?

the dream. the desire. to live in a city surrounded by culture. surrounded by friends who to you are the moon and the stars and the sun.

i often miss certain people more than places, the warmth in their eyes, the empathy in their faces, their tell-tale hearts beating in 4/4...

so often that i forget to express my camaraderie in words when i can see them again....and just smile knowingly.

When friendships end...You will still love her.

...and with my hands under my thighs
i swore an oath to be near the things
i love the best.


as i rake the coals i try to re-discover what is beneath me and what i am capable of. i can love. yes. i can still love amongst the January embers for as this year draws to a close with its gaping mouth i walk amidst flames. Emotions and explosions the alchemist inside of me dreams of fire and renewal within a moment's breath of yesteryear. The tricolor tongue of crimson, gold,and amber color the night sky with the wind behind my eyes and a song nestled in my memories...

for whatever armor i had before i had to learn to let go for the taste of the days that still burn. and i have learned that a need can run so deep that the only way to end the thirst was to risk it all. With a wineglass in hand i call out into the night illuminated and sing the names of those who i admire most. Standing alongside the choir of flames for they know how i sear, they stand witness to my laughing eyes and dancing heart. For i am cut from a different cloth than others, i wear my heart on my sleeve and my courage in my throat. Through these times of troubles i know i will stay true to myself and live again burning brightly....

I know the feeling....

listening to the National now, is like listening to REM in the 80's, wishing that i could could wrap my arms around the stereo for hours...

la,la,la,la...la,la...

Killing time in Japanese offices while missing my vinyl record collection,
 it takes a forced perspective to look at life through these lens..

i capture kind moments as much as i can with these eyes sunken as a raccoon, prowling around online when i should be making worksheets.

could it be that i miss people. not places? their personalities? their faces? those who are not strangers but with whom i can break bread and not be rebuked..

often times it's the elusive memories that get clouded over.

the weight of someone in bed next to you, the feeling of euphoria that comes over you while singing earnestly, the smell of peach blossoms, the sensation of floating on water, the comfort of talking to someone in the dark even though you can`t see their face...

****************************************

i can`t see that far,
and i can`t feel that near
only when cold water splashed
on my face can i wake up
from such volatile daydreams....

"people are strange, when you a stranger..."

is it strange? ... feeling that family members are
strangers?

or that i long for a rare
roundtable
of us meeting together
for non-superficial things....

too many times
its tragedy that brings
us together
but it does not bind us

like other
latino families...

*************************************

Paronychia infections, saltwater, bento boxes, fighting fruit flies on a daily basis....

July 15th, 2009:

hands not held, lips not met,
hips not swung, necks not caressed.

these are a few of my favorite things.
and yet. it's so difficult to
share them. espouse them.
involve them.

metaphors for different women
in different times
in my different lives.

i feel like i have used these lives all up
in an attempt to find my own
identity.

rambling incoherently yet sober as ever.
i picked a bad time to curb my drinking.

****************************************

i take comfort into singing songs aloud with my little iPod by the wayside....

July 14th, 2009:

taking trains across Tokyo, the Yamanote Loop into stagnant heartache, i sit there waiting for my stop wishing my life was a Murikami novel instead.

i float through Shibuya and Harajuku on a hot afternoon nameless and lacking identity. drifting through a crowd of fashionistas and tastemakers i wonder how much more time i have to kill in Ibaraki prefecture before i can live again.

i stand bravely in the face of emotional and financial debt to more than one individual or institution.

but knowing that it will never end.
the gnawing sensation that i just don't know...
i just don`t know what to do about it.

but jane says.

that she has never been in love.
and listening to that song about it.

thinking about
tomorrow.
i am still thinking about
tomorrow.

i'm going away.

i will get on that silver bird and fly away to
where i can get my head straight
and wonder why i wander
around so aimlessly

**************************

"I'm going away to Spain when i get my money saved...I'm gonna start tomorrow"

July 13th, 2009:

....what exactly has stolen my joy?

my love of things greater than me has evaporated like alcohol on a barroom floor.
i have become disaffected again while uncomfortably numb.

...now i am about to embark on a mandated month-long summer vacation with little, if any, fanfare.

****************************************

Sung to the tune of "The End":

June 24th, 2009:

these days i feel
just like a empty bottle of
wine...

had to say with a whisper
despite everything that somedays
i still miss that mouth of
yours

*********

talking like two adults
never ever
came without compromise

instead

words that leave bruises
and sores
left an impression on me


oh. but where do we go from here..?

i just couldn`t measure
the pain. the passion.
or the sarcasm.

whether or not we would argue
i couldn`t get this Radio out of my head...
playing songs
that said something to me
about my life..

and inside i could never quite decide
how near love and loss hold hands together...
but fear makes them
hold a knife...

guitar strings and beautiful things
i hear them drifting off
deep into the night....

London calling me home
oh. something tells me it
will get better.

glory or consequence
this too shall pass...

Oh baby don't it feel like heaven right now...

August 16th, 2008:

walking around Washington Heights "Little D.R."- 175th Street.
wondering how New York City always feels original to me.

dining at Dominican restaurants.
El Malecon.
Midnight Manhattan not to be out done.

going out in Yonkers.
seeing Ed Vedder onstage cover James Taylor's "Millworker"
getting handed a guitar pick by him
outside the venue
only to drop it once
he slides it into my palm.

Twilight metro rides through The Bronx
proper all way to 34th Street.
Zulu Nation elsewhere.
no excursions to Brooklyn this time around.
i'll catch her on the "L" train
and we'll go to some indie rock dance party
somewhere near Ocean Avenue.

"There was a flood...."

....and it came over me like some sort of quiet fire from within.

earnest inspiration soaked in kerosene

ablaze 

 

lighting up the dark ink of the night sky 

even though i sat alone in the cold room. 

 

i wondered enough to wander 

through thick seas of remorse 

to find my ship set alight 

with no regrets. 

 

a burning funeral pyre for the misbegotten. 

the timbers crackle with singing flames 

taking delight in the unison.

 

 a fiery chorus of voices engulfed 

and indulged in their song. 

their wordless joy made all the more louder 

with colors dancing. 

 

a rocket Gibraltar nestled among the stars. i smiled twice with eyes closed in laughter and a tooth-baring grin wide as a riverbed....

for i can only go forward from here.

 

to cross the Pacific Ocean set afire.

stringing paper lanterns full of January embers glowing.

i stand steadfast at the bow of the ship. 

 

a taste of wine mixed with blood & cinders in my mouth. 

 

i drink deep from the bottle in passionate salute of those who came before me. a strange warmth rekindled in my heart. for when i set sail from this shore despondent i will feel alive once more....

There’s hard feelings...There’s pointless waste.."

i want to hear the wind in the trees...


i want to be a wanderer again. listening to strange rainstorms and walking home along street signs in other tongues. singing Bob Dylan songs all wrong because my voice is hushed into a gruff whisper....

i missed those days when i believed in myself a little more often...

the world was new again and i drowned in delight whenever i heard a song
that would make my heart burst out loud and into color.

i dream in color.
i dream in red.
blood and wine.
light and life.
love stained brightly like dyed lambs' wool.

return to where my legs move of their own accord and
my arms spread akimbo before slowly raising to take flight.

traveling without moving.
songs without singing.

ocean tide and rustling wind rising to meet me
making music like some sort of secret laughter.

so i cup my mouth with both hands.
open them lovingly in the beautiful quiet.
close my eyes and i breathe out warm invisible air.


it comes from my inner furnace
where January embers still glow
from yesteryear.

and it must be my love for things that are greater than me....

these personal mysteries become mired when the stories stop arriving by daydreams. and the days do not pass without some small sacrifice on my part to forget what was once important to me.


to forget who i am.


past glories and cruel misfortunes recounted not romanticized.
i do not remain the victim but the victor in that i learn from my diseased triumphs


so i take these intangible desires and hold them in high regard for when these dreams finally die i can stop struggling against what truly stifles me....

"Gone"

"No more upset mornings
No more trying evenings
This American Dream
I am disbelieving.
When the gas in my tank
feels like money in the bank
I’m gonna blow it all this time,
take me one last ride....

For the lights of this city
They only look good when I’m speeding
I wanna leave em all behind me
cause this time
I’m gone
Long gone
This time I'm letting go of it all
So long
Cause this time I'm gone....

In the far off distance
As my tail-lights fade
No one thinks to witness
but they will someday
Feel like a question is forming
And the answers far
I will be what I could be
Once I get out of this town....

For the lights of this city
They have lost all of their feeling
Gonna leave em all behind me
cause this time
I’m gone
Long gone
This time I'm letting go of it all
So long
Long gone I'm letting go of it all
yeh this time I'm gone
If nothing is everything
If nothing is everything I’ll have it all
If nothing is everything
then I will have it all.
I am gone."

- E.V.

Sea above, Sky below....the restless waves.

 August 31st, 2006:

 these last three weeks have been a time of troubles.

and yet while if fills me up like a longneck bottle full of loneliness. i drink deep to soothe the scars.

no wine in the house. so i have to settle for this generic can of beer with an aluminum aftertaste.

i find myself night-dreaming....


Awash on a bed floating amidst the ocean tide. when the day breaks my back all I can smell are the vinyl records buried in the sea breeze. I squish the sand between my toes and think of simple pleasures and dear friends not forgotten but so far away.

in two weeks time i turn yet another year older. it does not seem to faze me but my flame is flickering. it only comes alive in the moonlight with wet hair and wine glasses.

so i raise my glass heartily to better times and rainy grey afternoons. to live guitar and pirate doubloons. to Asian cinema and Swedish bedframes, to Sonic Youth records and Emily Haines....

summer comes to a close like the last droplet of alcohol evaporating in the air. were it not so that i could have spent it in love with something more than just an idea. we grow cynical and lose sight of what makes us wonder with hearts outloud and laughing eyes.;

so drink up as your years slide from you, but keep those close who bind your heart with the naiveté of youth. for they know what others do not. hold tight to the ring of friendship and hope they never let go as you easily would....

a good friend once wrote me:

"....how the sickle moon swung over the Nebraska cornfields tonight. it made me think of you and your unabiding wanderlust...."

- j. townsend

These rivers of suggestion are driving me away. The trees will bend, the cities wash away

May 11th, 2006:

am i my old self again?

wandering New York City streets after dark. East 17th and Madison. 4th and Broadway. Times Square and 42nd Street. time passed and i was inside my head for a bit listening to old boleros. singing them out loud like i did in Bogota. shifting my feet in time to keep the rhythm.....

i ventured forth into the NYC metro in search of Canal Street. old tourmates and new faces in abundance. forgotten feelings surfaced and i was ready to brave the miserable uncertainty that plagued my formative years.

Seeing my favorite musicians onstage rekindled the phoenix flame that i had lost in Korea. and it came back in 4/4 beat.  as i walk around Union Square. exploring Manhattan. learning that this island is not my own. but my body navigates as it has been here before. floating memories held in time from Grand Central Station.

 i didn't make it to Brooklyn this time. but i caught up with some of its denizens at a local bar. Tequila shots and green magic made Gotham seem that much larger with more finesse.

so yes.

i still love New York City.

its lucid spell will always hold me
capitvated by comic book stories
and troubador songs.

we were little boys....

April 2006:

i killed a wasp tonight.

its body was smothered on the corner of a window frame by a light pink towel.
with which i smashed into the wall with a frenzy that occupies most four-year olds....

it was that delicious sort of fear and that scarce rush of excitement that i used to imbibe with a childlike wonder.

i simply cannot stop listening to this vinyl record.

it reminds me to dream deeply and richly again. turntables spinning black circles. wine glasses held aloft. warm kisses on wet lips. of lazy summer days jumping into rock quarries and singing along in the car. air drums and air guitars aplenty. springtime eternal and autumn excursions to Europe. where is my passport?

Michael Stipe and i singing Murmurs of memories long forgotten in Massachusetts. driving with the window down and the wind in your hair. a light drizzle of rain kisses your face and then i remember that i do know how to smile past all the mundane bullshit.

upset stomachs and thwarted months have been spent in changing addresses back from self-imposed exile to familiar lands. 

flying Ghost faces and twisted Chinese kites in Lynch Park to kill the monotony, flying Beijing opera click-click, skipping stones into oceans to save them from worse fates

sweet songs lilt in recent memory gone up in green smoke
and broken French phone conversations

Elliott and i go about on our carefree adventures flying kites and such through teenage wastelands and beyond. it brings out the big kid in me. we laugh about nonsense words, talking ornaments, and carpet mouths.

.... even when everything was fruitless and uneventful.

I yearn for the ability to make the most mundane moments seem like precious things. a sort of temporary elixir for this human loneliness. the poetry of ourselves hidden in double meanings and everyday life....


i write so many songs in my head, but every day i always forget to put the words down. There was a time, maybe there still is lurking somewhere, when i used to just want to write for the sake of writing.... 

my writing has suffered....

the way i string words along merely
 because i like the way that they sound.
 ,not necessarily what they mean
although i am given over to double meanings at times.

once again. i miss people, not places.

A hole in the ceiling....

He swims in water
poisoned in the wells

caught in the pincers
of something else

sang songs of future lives
breathe in the fear
to delight in my eyes
before i defile my ears
my soul is ill at ease
it troubles me to say
what exactly...

the irony lies in a question
of morale not morality

this time is fleeting for 
mere falsehoods
from which to choose.

for what i lose is not equal to love
truely the burning dove.

thunder broken
when my anger burns
brightly

this bitterness is not a gift....

Say it's true..And we can break through..I will begin again....

why did it take so long to feel this way
again?

to feel like a child with some shred of innocence
 in a world gone mad with warmongers.

i am a desert rose
longing to be found.
Into this wild country
i must have lost sense of
who i am.
The free spirit
that i know i am.

So i pack up my wineskins
with my love of books.
and i set out for the sea
between you and me.

and then night comes.
like a kiss on the mouth.



np:  The Xx - "Intro"

Mu...

the bleeding rain falls down
bringing everything into perspective
once more with fleeting precision....

like a wolf baring its teeth
unto those who are untrustworthy....

...chilly is the evening time.

i feel like frozen tonic water.

caught in a crystalline state that i need to break out of
to beat back the stagnancy that i have wrought.

if i would have had my own Josephine these battles
i've staged may have been different altogether.

into something worth fighting for.

******************

"All the tears and all the bodies bring about our second birth..."

in regards to the Fall.
Adam is Death
in so that i fear
that i will become
physical with my lies

- everytime -

i go on to you
it's like some sort of
quiet assassination....

being given over
to my own words
that will murder me

these inherent
character flaws
become so
predictable

its when we pretend
to act like adults
do these insecurities
overwhelm our desperate
love

for desire....

we silently scream
for those things
that we hold
to be so true.

it must be tragedy or providence
that no one knows my own
secret failures or
feelings
that seem
ever so
teenage
to me
now

oh!

where does it end?
don't dare tell me
how much i hope
and i how much i scheme
with the fruit of all that
i gather
but this gift is not like
the trespass

Maybe its better off this way....

Korea.

Oh.

Korea.

we have had some times together.

we have stayed up all night talking to each other
breathing in the night air.

we have wrestled our tongues in the moonlight
and we've emptied our stomachs onto the pavement.

lap tops and lollipops, broken skin and medicine, digital cameras and dancers in the dark, I have gone stark raving mad. utter confusion and controlled chaos mixed with coconut rum and coca-cola.

it takes time to get so lost or so i keep telling myself
that i need a new watch as a reminder that
heartbreak happens on the hour.

but something inside me keeps prodding anyway,
"stay alive and you'll find out".

fititng i should get so sentimental since
 i found his death to be such a waste.
for the people who knew him.
but for those who didn't
it amounted to pseudo-sainthood.

in so we can find
the phoenix of
ourselves.

to conquer our
day jobs
to touch our
erstwhile dreams.

licking flames with cold tongues........

a certain fear
brings a certain price

a certain love
brings a certain prize

for when these curtains
tear from the bottom up

burning

we can only assume
we become cousins
of our own intuition.

can someone love
something so much
in earnest
that it defines
their very perception
of other people?

individuals who subscribe
to ideologies that makes theirs
seem less mere at the end of the
day.

we are only as trivial
as our materialism
aspires to be

for what we are truly afraid
of can never leads us
astray
if we master
our self-interest into
servanthood.

so kiss me hard on the mouth
and clasp your hand under
my right thigh to make it complete

the promise that
we will never fear the
abyss together....

She never did make it to Santa Barbara with me,

There was always a time to throw away those past and future regrets to live our lives uncompromised.

Our passion eclipsed our fear for those summer days even if it was just for the briefest of moments. We lived in the moment.
one spontaneous situation after another.

Our faces shone like diamonds
and we laughed with the ease of children
at our misfortunes.

We ended up in Harlem and spent time with Olga,
our beautiful friend from the Czech Republic.
Drinking vodka, talking music
laughing about people and life,
i sat in her apartment dreaming of visiting Praha
with my own eyes.

Now Olga moved to Brooklyn
we are plotting to go see her quite soon.
Perhaps even make it all the way to Prague
in the springtime.

i have sang that song with crowds of thousands
but it meant so much more with a crowd of 10.
We belted out the words with an amateur drunken flair.

for lack of a better word the night felt like....






magic.

A hundred summer days bottled up inside one guitar....

A hundred summer days bottled up inside one guitar..

a sense of innocence...

I remember loving certain things
without being pretentious.

i am fighting my own Cold War within myself.
refusing to grow up.


"Mr. Gorbachev. Tear down that wall!"

no new McCarthy era.

Honestly i can't remember all my teenage feelings ....and their meanings

if i only saw myself as i see you
a true lie, between you and i
Venom sacs ballooning in my mouth
 to poison my words,
but fragile as an Easter egg
if you dropped me
would i land on all fours
like a baby cat?

i became smitten.
 Zoey she became Ziggy
and he disappeared like stardust
into her arms.

Smoky gray black midnight
with white patches on your belly.
You were just a kitten
but i conquered foreign civilizations for you
even if it was just a game.
Moses tried to drive you out of Egyptland,
but Jaime gave you a home so faraway
it feels as though you are on Mars.

i feel like a John Cusack film
only someone edited out the cool hair and mannerisms,
an eternal teenager too cool for adult rationale.
 i still flip up my jacket collar.
content to give up porn and cigarettes,
but not wine and chocolate.
 i even thought about making a mixtape today....

These next few months will be a trial by fire
nowhere to go but forward
to find that strength i stored away long ago
it goes to show the future is quite unwritten
so give me a pen,
and i'll send myself a letter....

i was naive once, cynical twice,
three times is the charm i'd say,
an apartment split 4-ways.
5 minutes to the 6 o'clock news.
Drinking until there are Seven hammers
ringing in my head 8 days a week.
Nine lives to when i reach 0
and then i start living my life again....

nothing seems to stay the same forever.
 and Hands never seemed so far away,
clear water in these raindrops,
exhale through my eyes,
an illustrated smile on my mouth,
with your whisper in my ear....

it's time for a re-inventing of self.

i grow restless as the hours grow on me
making me lose passion
for the days to come.

 i am a tapestry of feeling
interwoven with emotion
as my locks of hair
weave together
a story of redemption
within myself.

brown skin. yellow sun. i got two lungs.....two lungs.

np: Talking Heads - "Love Building On Fire"