Change is due.

10 10 10

2009-09-30T16:58:00.003-07:00

"We do not inherit the Earth from our
ancestors, we borrow it from our
children."

Today I walked my dog and we went for a car ride and I altered some old jeans. and and and I made my favorite lunch. Grilled Cheese with apple and onions.

Niner...

2009-09-27T16:04:00.001-07:00

Today, I slept in like IN. I wanted to go to church, but for once I wanted to sleep and not cause I was hungover. so I woke up at 4:30 and now I am going to cook dinner.

day 8

2009-09-27T16:03:00.000-07:00

bought 7 landsharks from work.

seven seven seven

2009-09-27T16:02:00.001-07:00

napped.

#6

2009-09-25T12:42:00.000-07:00

I am doing terribly about updated my3.6.5 but i am participating everyday. In fact I am halfway through my kerouac poem book I checked out 2 days ago....

Bus

EAST Society has good intentions

Bureaucracy is like a friend

5 years ago - other furies other losses -

America's trying to control the uncontrollable

Forest fires,

Vice

The essential smile

In the essential sleep

Of the children

Of the essential mind

I'm all thru playing

the American 
Now I'm going to live

a good quiet life

The world should be

built for foot walkers

Oily rivers Of

spiney Nevady

I am Jake Cake 
 Rake 
Write like Blake

The horse is not pleased

 Sight of his gorgeous finery 
 in the dust

Its silken nostrils 
 did disgust

Cats arent kind

Kiddies anent sweet

April 
in Nevada -

Investigating Dismal Cheyenne

Where the war parties 
In fields of straw 
Aimed over oxen At Indian Chiefs 
In wild headdress

Pouring thru the gap 
In Wyoming plain 
To make the settlers 
Eat more dust

than dust 
was eaten In the States From East at Seacoast

Where wagons made up To dreadful 
Plains 
Of clazer vup

Saltry 
settlers 
Anxious to masturbate The Mongol Sea (I'm too tired in Cheyenne - 
No sleep in 4 nights now, & 2 to go)

FIVE

2009-09-22T23:02:00.001-07:00

I pretended to be a beat poet....next step slam poet with a mic (in the privacy of my own living room ofcourse)

#4

2009-09-22T05:32:00.000-07:00

Although it was 2:00 in the AM last night and I woke up at 7:00 yes 5 hours of sleep and that is not including trying to fall asleep.
I sat with the piano last night trying to figure it all out. I learned 2 chords with both hands and fingering and how to properly walk up the keys...that's the term too "walk up the keys". I played part of fres jacques. This will probably be my most frequent 3.6.5. although I am on the older part of learning to play and it may be difficult to learn. I am going to have piano-ing be a hobby.

starting again... we'll start with day #3

2009-09-20T21:03:00.000-07:00

A belief in hell and the knowledge that every ambition is doomed to frustration at the hands of a skeleton have never prevented the majority of human beings from behaving as though death were no more than an unfounded rumor.

break.

2009-09-13T20:35:00.001-07:00

well I started this thing friday... and I am already taking a break.
but not really family matters arose and quite frankly me doing what I want is not thinking about anything and just watch tv...

#1

2009-09-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

Marie Howe.
      I did not write this. I have mentioned this poem many times, but reading it and re-reading always shows something
        new. There is truth in what she says and our daily lives. This won't be an epiphany, but it is nice to know we are
      not alone. In fact the people right next to you are more like you than you think. This sometimes is comforting.

"What The Living Do"

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven't called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It's winter again: the sky's a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat's on too high in here and I can't turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I've been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss--we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,

say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless:

           I am living. I remember you.

Johnny was Marie's brother who died of AIDS in 1989. This was a lament for her brother she emphasized the last line by not emphasizing it at all. She said it plain and straight... I am living. I remember you

3.6.5

2009-09-11T09:19:00.000-07:00

I am trying to redefine me. I have created something and tainted it. This is a deep cleansing. I am finding out the longevity of specific priorities. I am finding non-truth from truth. A deep breath of reflection and seeking out something to discover. Reclaiming patience. This is my therapy, my cheap self-induced therapy. Maybe it won't work, but in a sense that's the point. Never stop trying. Never say I wish. I am looking for rejuvenation...