Success and the People Who Forsake It (Re-post)

Hobo

Hipster

Hayseed

Homeless

Hot

Haggard

Humid

Holistic

Everything is talked about being cool and no one has anything to say except for what cool is. Often I want to be a vagrant on the street.

..

I see so many homeless in my daily life... I often misspell daily dailey. Why is that?

..

When I see them, I hear their pleas. I see their limps. I feel their war stories... The words!!! They drip from their mouths like blood from a wound, and the vampire I am licks it up. Kitty milk. Dont consider it a form of revelry.

..

This empathy/sympathy/pity/y/y/y HURTS. Every day I see the sign or a sign that says, I have liver disease. I got a job but I was fired after 2 days.

..

I am a black ninja.

..

I wont lie to you. Its for beer.

..

HOMO

..

This is where the attraction and the allure come in.

..

I feel it, and I hear it, and sometimes I smell it but a large part of me wants the street life 24/7 all the time and through all the pain... Do I deserve to be where I am?

..

I question my place, and what I really want out of this life and this place. But minute by minute I find myself saying Why the hell do any of us persist with this daily toil? Are we appreciated? Are we respected? Are we valued?

..

If the voice of a leper woman from Europe has the power to make me cry, is that not a sign my urge to sing and make music is dying to take over? Its silly.

..

All I think, and all I love, and all I yearn is music, travel, love, and fashion. The music and the fashion and the philosophy all melt together in the heat and quickness, and still I find myself avoiding and procrastinating with my craft.

..

I know I am meant to do it, but I almost flirt with it knowing that its the one I will marry, so before I put the ring on, I want to play the field for a while.

..

..

I moved here to make music. I am coming up on my 1-year anniversary living in Manhattan. New York City. New York, New York.

..

That anniversary is June 25^th. It is 5 days before my parents 27-year anniversary. 20 days after my 26^th birthday.

..

Delightful.

..

Another year on the streets.

..

*$9!

..

Corocet

Currently listening : Élan Vital By Pretty Girls Make Graves Release date: 11 April, 2006

The Freedom Act of 2006 - F.O.F.F.A. (Re-post)

"In a river the color of lead
Immerse the baby's head.
Wrap her up in the news of the world.
Dump her on a doorstep girl.

Oh this night has opened my eyes,
and I will never sleep again.

You kicked and cried
like a bullied child.
A grown man of 25.
Oh he said he'd cure your ills
but he didn't and he never will.

Oh save your life
because you've only got one.

The dream has gone
but the baby is real.
Oh you did a good thing.

She could have been a poet
or she could have been a fool.
Oh you did a bad thing.

And I'm not happy and I'm not sad.

A shoeless child on a swing
reminds you of your own again.
She took away your troubles.
Oh, but then again, she left pain.

Oh PLEASE save your life because you've only got one..." (the Smiths)


Camus basically said slavery is necessary, or else no one would know what to do. We need masters and bosses in order to have SOMETHING to serve. If we can't serve our own purposes, we need to find someone whose purposes are in accordance with our own and serve theirs. In many ways I agree with him, but once again if it came to semantics, I think the presentation of his philosophies, and as a result the ideas themselves, are dated/premature. But as an innovative writer/philosopher/revolutionary, one often must say MORE than what one means in order to ignite change or in order for less extreme versions of your views to be adopted into the mainstream consciousness.

When we are fetuses, we are slaves to the womb. Born, we are slaves to our parents and teachers. Adult, we are slaves to love and "bosses."

That said, I have taken my indentured servitude elsewhere. I'll be a slave to something or other for the rest of my life (dick, music, writing, the pursuit of _____) but I think I'm getting better at choosing my master.

This week has been a personal molt with proportions so grand and ever-unfolding I can't even begin to describe. This entry will be a bit (or completely, depending on how ego-centric you are or how ego-centric you view me to be) journal-y. Sorry for the lack of interactivity folks, I just need to wax on wax off and I get there through writing. So if you think my life is boring or lame or that I'm masturbating while writing this, then go elsewhere. But I think my words and experience might ignite a lightbulb, or perhaps make someone break something themselves... or like me - put an end to the bullshit relations in their lives and start enjoying them again, and for that reason I write despite the lack of your participation directly or indirectly in this particular instance. There will also be those who read this who actually DID indirectly participate in the Emancipation of Mikey, and in turn the release of Corocet. And you will all know who you are, precious things. I thank you for your contribution to my exodus, and I bid you good day (and good life).

The decision to cut out certain fixtures in my life was indeed difficult. It wasn't until after cutting said things and people out that I realized how much grief and emotional/spiritual energy the ongoing maintenance of said interpersonal relationships were inflicting upon my lightening frame in any dimension. Hindsight is 20/20, and looking back, I am so happy I had the courage and wits to give up on trying to make friendships and certain aspiring notions WORK.

It's not like I didn't know these things were addictive or that they were hurting me more than helping. Or if not hurting, not doing ANYTHING for ANYONE. But still we kept up the rouse. I ask why!?! Well, it's that in giving up an irrepairable broken friendship or lack thereof, I feared seeing myself as a failure. And not just a failure in that instance of schism, but perceived as a moral and interpersonal failure. Sounds crazy, right? And it is! But when you have someone you love(d) and RESPECTED telling you what a horrible person you are, it sort of hits home. That teamed with the fact that perception is reality, nobody wants to be looked down upon.

As an advocate for peace and tolerance, the idea of a world with undying feuds and bitter adversarial relationships really hurts me on a soul level. Real pain. Ouchies! If the "relationship" really just consists of the silent treatment being tossed about like a ball in a tennis court, it really does break my heart. I have always hated the idea of throwing people away. Friends, lovers, the person who cuts my hair. I know well the anguish and despair that's anxiously waiting in the wings of your heart after being told by someone you care about that they simply and succinctly don't want you in their life.

The whole last two years of my life has been almost primarily focused on "fixing" (by accepting and forgiving) the wounds suffered after the end of an unhealthy relationship. It seems this fluff (and sometimes cancerous) extraction marks the end of my transition, and the beginning of the life I moved here for, and on the flip side have been waiting to come to me for a year now. I now see and accept that sometimes letting go is necessary. Often it is. And that letting go of something too tired, proud, fragmented or broken is better than persisting with a vehicle that was pretty much faulty to begin with.

Self-preservation verses Sainthood? I used to think so. But now I know that I can not only be a saint, but also look out for myself and my own well-being. That's the beauty of living in a reality system of duality. That's how all of us (but especially I) can be such a contradiction in terms when reviewing our behaviors, opinions, and quirks.

So in short, Fuck OFF Assholes!

Love,
Corocet

Currently listening : Hatful of Hollow By The Smiths Release date: 09 November, 1993

Astrally Speaking, Of Course (Re-post)

It's time again for a suppository blog insertion by yours truly, Corocet.

Do I speak of the lovely New York Spring? The tree pollen so high I could propell a small hovercraft with my sneezing gusto. But really, it is quite beautiful here right now. Floating above the city one could see a slight haze beginning to form, especially on a day like today. Standing behind a bus, or waiting in a crowded elevator, one really gets the sense of how fast it's going to be sweltering hot. We have to enjoy this while it lasts folks, because in a month, we'll all be complaining about the stench-filled streets and whinging over our "why-the-fuck-doesn't-this-shit-work!?!" roll-on deodorants. Personally, second to fall (maybe even tied), Spring has been my favorite season so far in the city.

Do I dare speak of my blossoming theory that James Iha of Smashing Pumpkins fame is going to be this summer's "Itgirl" for Manhattan nightlife and bar culture? I see his blond-gone-bad Asian ass ALL OVER THE PLACE. Almost always downtown (in my neighborhood), almost always somewhere borderline but not-quite mainstream, and always with a confused Keanu kind-of look on his face. It's so sexy and random I think if he simply cashes in on his elusive/everywhere thing he's obviously got going on, he could make a mint.

Do I talk about how reading Albert Camus' The Fall has made me that much more excited about life, and about society's (and in turn my own personal) evolution? His words have a timeless quality about them, yet at the same time they date his philosophies. Here's a quote I loved: "You know what charm is: a way of getting the answer yes without having asked any clear question." Another: "No man is a hypocrite in his pleasures".

Maybe I'll discuss my dreams. After fighting with my Self, my enemies, family, and friends - waking myself up screaming though tears - I wake up feeling like I've truly said my piece, nobody wins, and we all just move on with our lives. Pretty heady shit, and I'm not talkin' 'bout no Devil weed. But maybe I should? Ah who cares, weed is pretty boring when it comes down to it.

Maybe I'll talk about my obsession with Stargate SG-1. I tell myself it's based on truth, because it validates my own experiences, but moreover - imagining a world without alien life is too damn depressing. I know personally that alien life exists, but what I don't know is if they are here to help us or enslave us. That sentence may strike some of you as a joke or plain crazy. But as a college graduate, and as a sane, working professional, I swear to all of you reading this right now: my experiences are real (read "Kundalini Activation" in my blog's archive if you don't already believe).

Aliens are here. They can look like us. They can sound like us. And they are watching. As of yet, there is no danger in sight... only an anxious sense of mutual curiosity. But with world affairs in the loveless state they are in right now (Moussaoui told a court filled with people "America lost. I won."), who knows how much faith our alien counterparts have in our ability to handle technology and knowledge responsibly. This is why I love SG-1, and sci-fi in general - because it embraces the notion that man is not the pinnacle (of God's creation), nor the epicenter of the Galaxy. That we have not ARRIVED, and that culturally and technologically we are mere babies - zygotes - in comparison to some of the more advanced alien races that exist in the Universe and whose representatives are already on the same dirt you shovel in your garden, and whose ships watch and wait in the same skies you look at when you wish on stars. While this may sound paranoid circa 12 Monkeys to some, I patiently and positively assure you - I am not afraid of anything (except maybe not living up to my own personal potential), and I am not saying these things to you for any reason other than I think more people need to start waking up to the changing tide around them! Are we as people obligated to fight for truth and spread that word? Are we supposed to enjoy subjugation? Or perhaps are we too concerned with monetary success and the quest for power? You thought the tsunami was crazy?! Wait till First Contact!!! Wait till the aorta of humanity (the common man) gets informed through network and corporate media about who the Annunaki were, and their role in our planet's history.

There is so much to talk about in life that it's a wonder any of us can open our mouths and string together a cohesive thought/phrase/sentence at all. How, and I think more imporantly WHEN will the rest of us realize that linearness is sort of like a red herring in a novel!?! We think it's all about TIME, when time is really just a scene or a setting to color and provide a kind of frame.

I think I'll just talk about nothing. What do YOU think???



Currently listening : Film School By Film School Release date: 24 January, 2006

C_O_R_O_C_E_T (Re-post)

C
curious cootchie cove catch copulate conspicuously conquer cite costly conspiracies convince concepts continue conception coerce creativity cohabitate connive corrupt corrode cum complete contrive contrast conceal consume consummate con co-dependency congeal consider cooperate contain careful care consult carefully cast collide conspire children considerations
O
orate on oscillating orchards of oleander or over oblique obelisks obsolete operation obstructions obstruct obvious oracles other overheard options onward
R
rather rent revolt rest retire recoupperate resuscitate revive roll run red raid revel raise ride relish remain repair rethink redeem rub rush relax revolutionize rip return reduce replay reveal really rancid raking roaming
O
oh! oh? oh.
C
contagious cup-like calypso cootie cavern canned
E
evolving everything entails exposing exclusive eschalons enough entirity even expells edgy elusive eels enter ebbs escalation expanding easy entrails extra expedited elbow
T
touch try teeth telling television toms total top to tread truth towards totality tuberous toughies thatch thistles take tastle tours tummy treachery tempt testy time

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



Currently listening : True Colors By Cyndi Lauper Release date: 25 October, 1990

OverHead in New York (Re-post)

I just got back from running my usual 3-4 miles on FDR. I was listening to this new band a good friend (and fellow house dj) turned me on to. It just goes to show house djs, the good ones anyways, DO know their music... and djs in general are great at recommending things to people and crowds that they may love but would have never found had that dj not introduced them to it.

The sun was making the river on my right glimmer and shine. The air tasted salty and dirty. Birds flew overhead. Helicopters took off and landed right in front of me, and the unique smell of the fuel gagged me momentarily. Sweat beads formed above my eyes. A man jumped rope on a granite slab facing the river, Queens and Brooklyn. I finished, crossing 14th st. in a huff. C to B.5 is my cool-down.

Anyways, the band is called Love is All, and they are infectious. Combine what's good about the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, !!!, and Broken Social Scene. I would say Animal Collective too, but I'm mad at them because I just bought some shitty side project cd for 9 bucks and wanted to throw it out the window after listening to the 50 minutes of droning drivel. Rarely does that listening experience happen to me; usually even when I'm only MILDLY aware of what I'm buying it turns out to be enjoyable on some level. But not this cd. So I won't say there are good things about Animal Collective right now. I will just nod to them, off in the corner I put them.

So I get back from running, and I saw my gmail notifier was fatter than when I left him. He's hungry, I swear! I don't mean maybe! And as I click Inbox, I am shocked to read this:

As you may have seen on Overheard in New York, I was informed this
morning that I am no longer affiliated with the site. If you don't know
me, I'm the guy who edited the entries and wrote all the headlines.

I have launched NewYorkOverheard.com. Same Overheard, less overhead.
It's the same thing you and I have built and loved. If you have any
links, please change and please _spread the word_.

An explanation is forthcoming, and will appear on the site.

PS OverheardAtCollege.com is live, too!

Yours,
Michael Malice
Editor, New York Overheard

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

I couldn't believe it!!! I love this site. Coincidentally, an entry I submitted two weeks ago made it on the site ON ITS LAST DAY with the wonderful and amazing Michael Malice as its Editor-in-Chief.

If you're not familiar with OverheardinNewYork.com, check it out. I always get a laugh out of it, no matter how crummy a mood I'm in. It also shows you just how "colorful" the city we live in is, and how often people are really talking and thinking the same thing.

I guess it just got too big for him to handle. I wish him the best of luck, and you bet your ass my submissions (cuz dude - I hear a LOT of crazy shit) are going to NewYorkOverheard.com instead from now on.

Lovely,
Miffed,
Corocet

Currently listening : Born Free Forever By Bobby Birdman Release date: 06 May, 2003

Throw 4 I Love Yous (Re-post)

The first "I love you" we ever hear is probably from a parent. Usually a mother.
Then we might hear it from a sibling or a relative or a close family friend.
A time comes when we start hearing "I love you"s all over the place.
Our friends are saying it.
Our mouths are saying it.
Our hearts are screaming it.
Our crotches burn with it.
Eventually we say "I love you" and mean it in a way we've never meant it before.
Magical first.
Desperate hunger.

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

I've been seeing someone for almost a month now.
There have been no "I love you"s, and I don't see them coming any time soon.
But it's no more or less there than any other situation I've been in prior to this. It's just quieter.

If anything, the unspoken "I love you" is there more because there is a sense of excitement, wonder, and anxiousness. The "I love you" is not thrown like a ventriloquist's voice.
What nervous joy to contemplate the ultimate surprise (and yes love), when someone has love to confess. What a gift. What a miracle.

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

I think of my mother. A woman with a sharp tongue, an at times scathing demeanor, and
a heart of gold. She says "I love you" at the end of every conversation, in person or on the phone. But the "I love you" is always a closer, a conclusion... never a focal point.

I don't know if I like the "I love you" as an afterthought. I want the "I love you" in the middle of a funny story, or after you pick me up when I fall on my face, as I am wont to do. Maybe this is fucked. My life is lived in a never-ending climax kind-of-way, therefore I guess it's only natural my desires and yearnings follow that curve.

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

The most significant love of my life doesn't speak to me any more. What's crazy is that I love him more than I did when I was with him. But that's how I'm wired. Perhaps I idealise the past; I do idealise the past. When "I hear I love you" I want to hear it forever. I don't want it for a few years and then have it taken away. I want it to breathe and live and change and grow and eventually, with me, expire. It's not that I believe in a "One" for everybody. I do think love is about commitment - to each other, and to the relationship more than anything. It is about experiencing life with somebody. And even if you're not fucking that person any more, up until almost 2 years ago, I have always found it very simple to maintain loving and powerful friendships with exes.

Obviously I have moved on. I've moved on in so many ways and changed so much I often feel like I've metaphorphed in a very Kafka kind-of-way... complete with the revelations, the epiphanies, and the resolve. But I still can not give up this silly human desire to love and be loved. To deny it would surely kill me! I've come so far, and I feel as if I've just begun.

Stardom, Rejection, Veto Power; Satire and The Insatiable Need for Approval (Re-post)

Last night

1.
New York City. Chelsea. XL. America's Next Porn Idol. My roommate and friend Everett went because our friend Derek (*69 Records) was the makeshift Simon Cowell in the D/E-List panelist of "celebrity" judges.

2.
Living rooms worldwide. Fox. American Idol was seen in tens (hundreds?) of millions of homes around the world. Mandisa rocked the party fo' sho', but Catherine (whom my friends and I lovingly call "Nanny") McPhee totally brought up the rear.


Today

1.
New York City. Avenue of the Americas. UBS Warburg. 1 pm. Interviewed for a position I didn't really want, but knew they would want me for as soon as I walked into the office and sat down. Even though I had no interest in the nature of the position or even the field, I wanted a group of strangers' approval SO fiercely I could taste it. As soon as I knew they wanted me and were willing to pay for me, I began slipping in addages and stories I knew they would be tickled by or interested in enough to ask me a follow-up question about.

2.
New York City. My bedroom. 4 pm. Read somebody on Myspace's blog who has this experiment to go on 75 dates or something, and write about each guy/date. At first glance (date 1) I thought this was sort of an original idea. But by date 13 (current date), I really see this blog for what it is - a half-assed and rather lame attempt to stealthily justify promiscuity! Not only in hindsight does this poor bloggist seem like a whore, he relies on an HBO character's writing style to deliver his self-perpetuating cart of rat manure. I don't care how fabulous you think your New York life is, or how great you think your "snarky" style of writing is, YOUR LIFE IS NOT SEX IN THE CITY YOU STUPID FAGGOT. Get a clue, get a style, and then let's talk!

***

From American Idol and America's Next Top Model, to the growing trend of blogging, it's fast become obvious to me now that we are a culture obsessed with judging others. Many people are not blogging or contestants on American Idol or ANTM because they LOVE writing, or love singing, or LOVE modeling (!?!?), but instead they are there for VALIDATION and status. It's like blogs are the new Dior Handbag or Jimmy Choo sandals.

I feel like there is this elephant in the room nobody wants to acknowledge but we all know is there - swinging trunk, floppy ears, fear of mice, and everything! If we deny it, it doesn't exist, right?!? WRONG!

My sole intention in practicing my craft (writing and music) has never been to become famous or because I approval sought. Sure, praise and come-uppins are GREAT. Amazing record sales or getting picked up by a literary agency would definitely make me feel like I've made steps in realizing my dual dreams... but alas, I know that my insatiable need to CREATE will never be qualmed or quieted by a blue ribbon in ANY competition. Even if I was the winner of some TV beauty pageant. I am my biggest competitor, and I have only myself to deny or celebrate, and I think that goes for all of us.

My plea is for love. We need to put more love and care into our crafts. If you feel the need to create, do not create out of emulation (though inspiration is often found through mimisis)... create to interact! Give your fellow man (sorry girls) a REASON to think about your product in a way that engages them and perhaps even inspires THEM to create something.

It's like those HORRIBLE fake Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirts that were going around Wal-Marts in the 90s, or the miles of tables of fake Louis Vuitton handbags lining the streets of midtown and Canal Street. Everyone know's that it's fake, contrived crap. Maybe the people who bought them didn't... but there will always be people like that - the people who buy the fake shit for status because they can't afford the real deal, the people who vote for the Kellie Picklers or "the next Carrie Bradshaw"s.

Well I'll be the first to say - I DON'T WANT YOUR ADORATION. REJECT ME. I love it if you love me, but I really don't care if your lame ass thinks I or my work for that matter suck. Because people like you simply do not know how to think. For yourself, or anyone else let alone me.

When I read or listen to music I want to feel engaged, not like I have a ticket to see an ugly guy jerking off in the front seat from the back of a really ghetto silver 80's stretch limousine. GET ME THINKING. Don't just put your stupid and confusing shit on me, cuz I don't want it! I have my own to (not) make sense of, and to be honest - your shit de-inspires me and takes away my faith in humanity.

NOTICE something. Ask for guidance. Plead. Scream. Just please don't sit there masturbating and expect me to watch and wait until you're finished. Cuz I'll be gone, and by the time you get your clothes on, my shit will be in Times Square above the steaming Cup-O-Noodles. And by the way - your new handbag sucks.

Currently reading : Do You Suck as Well as Fuck? Totally Sexed Up Tales of J. Edgar Hoover's America By Ken Ichigawa Release date: December, 2005

The NO NO Place - Courtesy E.T.Verett (Re-post)

My dog has cancer. He's almost 5 and he'll be dead before he's 6.

It's the year of the dog; transition, rebirth, renewal.

Controller. Controller is a really whatever band.

They remind me of a similarly-forgotten troupe: The Strokes, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs... annnnnnnnd though some would cheer "Clap Your HANDS!!!!" NOOOOOO!!!

CONTROLLER. CONTROLLER *puke in mouth a little*

So.... I think

The Boy Least Likely To

and

LD and the New Criticism (after drinkin' it up with LD tonight at Phoenix)

ARE THE BEST CDS of ages.


Good

Night

(and good luck)

**************** FASHION KILLS

Currently listening : Best Party Ever By Boy Least Likely To Release date: 19 July, 2005

It's All Four Du (Re-post)

sorry to be a disappointment Ladies... but sometimes Korean or Japanese really isn't THE BEST.

The Asians have the best intentions, but the road to hell is paved with such... the Olympics can only back a pack. Chinese figure skating pelvic-crunchers can only my point support.



Oh Zhang Dan and Zhang Hao - Silver medals are what I speak of here, when tasty tuna and succulent wasabi combine to make supah-gay-c-o-c-k-z-e-e-r-a-a-h. Feeeeeels sooooo goooooood.

I just ate an egg roll from a chinese place that's so authentic I've eaten dog.

I wish you were here to cuddle and nonsense and shush and hush me in to nothingness.

O I wish you were here to stick your finger in my mouth and stuff me full of silence... until I can tell tale no more.

Stick it.

It's time, boy.

You.

Me.

Night.

Now.

Currently reading : Edgar Allan Poe: Selected Works, Deluxe Edition By Edgar Allan Poe Release date: 03 October, 1990

Closure: Forever Sentimental (Re-post)

Of course I thought of silly old you this weekend. How could I not? Geographically speaking, it was the closest we'd been in many months. Emotionally I've never felt farther away from someone.

Surprisingly you didn't come up as much as I thought you would. Of course you came up, but honestly not too much. It was an unexpected, though welcome phenomenon.

What was interesting was how visiting the old haunts and seeing the old faces made me miss my life here. I missed what I've so passionately and energetically created for myself on this crazy island of freaks and fools.

The weekend got me thinking about a lot of things. I thought that perhaps going home might bring you back out from the shadowy corners of my heart's attic, but really and if anything, it sealed the attic door even tighter, and gave me more closure than any five or twenty frustrating conversations with you would ever do... now or a year ago.

If we were still together, I never would have moved to New York.

I would have never seen Rip Taylor in front of my office.
I would have never seen Ethan Hawk from 3 feet away.
I would have never attended that party in the Rainbow Room.
I would have never gotten drunk with Boy George.
I would have never worked on photo shoots.
I would have never gone to chic chic industry parties.

I would have never had those central park picnics.
I would have never memorized the subway system and all of Manhattan's neighborhoods.
I would have never known how amazing New York is in the fall.

I would have always felt like less.

I would have never realized how much I actually loved someone *you*.
I would have never felt like I'd done something by myself.

I would have never loved you forever.

I would have never gone crazy.
I would have never come back to myself.

I would have never understood you better by being with someone else.
I would have never forgiven you.
I would have always beaten myself up.

I would never have the life I have now.

I would never have the friends I have now.

I would never have the happiness I have now.

If we were still together, I would still never have you.



Currently listening:Songs of Love and HateBy: Leonard CohenRelease date: 07 February, 1995