Hold up in a hotel in West Virginia
Living out of a car wasn’t bad when you could sleep inside
I’d been doing it now for a few years
Life on the run
From just about everything
It wears you out
Fake
Plastic smiles
Influenced eyes
I understand why the priest brewed bread
Some say that church is where you make it, home is where you lay your head
I have no home, no religion
I live
Or at least I try to
This life, this world
It makes you question everything
Especially when you actually live it
Some say I’m brave
Some say I’m stupid
Some say I’m afraid
Some say I’m brilliant
I’m none of these
If anything, I’m just as lost as the rest of you
I’m just not afraid to say it
I may be hiding from something, but it’s not myself
Hiding from the world around you
That’s human
Hiding from yourself
That’s cowardice.
You can’t hide from yourself
Yourself always comes out
You always win
You can’t lie to yourself
You can’t remake yourself
You can’t be what you are not
You can try
But in the end
You will always be you
Love it
Hate it
No difference
You are you
Run
Run
Run
Fall and get up
RUN
You are still here
Standing still
Gone
...
I left my room around 6:30, bored & hot. For winter, it was amazing how hot my room would get by mid day. I had arrived in town a couple days earlier, all my possessions packed into the back of my truck. Strung out on caffeine and white lines, I had trouble sleeping.
I wondered town the first night by foot
There was snow melting on the sidewalks & it made it hard to walk. The town was small & dirty, as if time had stopped 20 years ago. Just cold and coal dust and the smell of a dirty river
I’ve seen hard living up close before, but this was a new kind of tough here
The kind of tough that had been given opportunity, but bought a bottle & had a kid instead. Rejection was no stranger here; some may even call her honey.
It was amazing how the smell of fresh snow melt mingled with fresh piss outside my hotel.
The charm of the place was unmistakable. It was the type of place that everyone ran to when you had nowhere else to run. Time forgot, old & quiet. Everyone had secrets here
...
Stale
Like bread left out of the wrapper for days
Moldy and hard
Crispy to the bite, sour to the taste
I can’t
Let go
Can’t
hold on
like fog on the morning
my head
fuzzy, soft
damp
between warm and cool
lost
but on familiar ground
stale
like open beer, in the morning, in july
stale
like pizza from anywhere at 9 in the morning
stale
like my life
amazing how still one can be, even on the run
stale
like 4 hour old gas station coffee
stale
like “anyone can play guitar”
one
two
stale
my ambitions
so many ideas
like too many drinks
half empty
half full
cool mist of rain
warm smell of piss
loud sirens
“anyone can play guitar”
Stale
Like the latest summer love story
How many times can you remake the classics?
Stale
Like the bed in every flop motel
Stale
Like every cover band known to man
“anyone can play guitar”
Cool pavement
Soft concrete
Sinking like quicksand
“anyone can play guitar”
Who can you blame
Who are you?
Monday, March 16, 2009
To Vahalla
I stepped off the car to the smell of oil and diesel.
Unmistakable.
I had Philip Glass and the Kronos Quartet
No 3 – Mishima / Closing
A majestic procession of rail cars
Warehouse condos and fenced lots
The grey skies seemed to sparkle with the lift of the strings
Glimmers of what was a spectacular sunset
You could see the winter cold
Rush hour in Chicago
Timed madness
Like a river with controlled currents
Go
Stop – Go
Stop
GO
People everywhere
All in their own lanes
Like a well choreographed ballet
Simplicity from complexity
Beauty in the Stand still.
Dim lights and bright neon.
I find a cave to crawl in
Warm glow of cable news
Absurdity in a 24 hour loop
I run through messages
Nothing new
Same old list of refugees
Camps closing
Whispers of better confines on new horizons
March of Hope
Towards what, none of us are sure
But march we must
An hour passes
Two veterans from the early days of the war stumble in
We drink
We remember battles past
We speak of life without war
We all decide peace is boring
Another round of drinks with dinner
Time to go
Back to the cold embrace
Like the station inhales and exhales
Before spewing our steel home back out
East into the black
The Einherjar call us to the Hall.
...
A steel grey tube
Thin metal track
Chilling black
Almost 24 hours
Iron horse zephyr
Express to the Capital
Of a dying nation
Maybe already dead
Limbo
Someone forgot to call the time
Toe tagged for decades
Trailing on the last flashes of hope
Stubborn ideals
Like street lights east of South Bend
Rural Indiana
No one for miles
But they hold their candles lit proudly
For warriors never returning home
So many strangers
All running
For what?
What is left to run for?
Even change comes in time
Like a water fall from a leaky facet
All it takes is time.
Time
I have no time
No ability to wait
Earthquake of motion
Shakes you like a good hangover
I’ll never drink again
Pass the bottle
So often hitting the end of the tracks
This time seems like the worst of them all
Racing to the promised land
Upon Valkyrie wings
No candles lit at this church
Here they blow them out for kicks
No one cares unless they can get the take
People fain surprise at the announcement of corruption
Another blustery storm on its way to jail
Another realization of a broken dream
Unmistakable.
I had Philip Glass and the Kronos Quartet
No 3 – Mishima / Closing
A majestic procession of rail cars
Warehouse condos and fenced lots
The grey skies seemed to sparkle with the lift of the strings
Glimmers of what was a spectacular sunset
You could see the winter cold
Rush hour in Chicago
Timed madness
Like a river with controlled currents
Go
Stop – Go
Stop
GO
People everywhere
All in their own lanes
Like a well choreographed ballet
Simplicity from complexity
Beauty in the Stand still.
Dim lights and bright neon.
I find a cave to crawl in
Warm glow of cable news
Absurdity in a 24 hour loop
I run through messages
Nothing new
Same old list of refugees
Camps closing
Whispers of better confines on new horizons
March of Hope
Towards what, none of us are sure
But march we must
An hour passes
Two veterans from the early days of the war stumble in
We drink
We remember battles past
We speak of life without war
We all decide peace is boring
Another round of drinks with dinner
Time to go
Back to the cold embrace
Like the station inhales and exhales
Before spewing our steel home back out
East into the black
The Einherjar call us to the Hall.
...
A steel grey tube
Thin metal track
Chilling black
Almost 24 hours
Iron horse zephyr
Express to the Capital
Of a dying nation
Maybe already dead
Limbo
Someone forgot to call the time
Toe tagged for decades
Trailing on the last flashes of hope
Stubborn ideals
Like street lights east of South Bend
Rural Indiana
No one for miles
But they hold their candles lit proudly
For warriors never returning home
So many strangers
All running
For what?
What is left to run for?
Even change comes in time
Like a water fall from a leaky facet
All it takes is time.
Time
I have no time
No ability to wait
Earthquake of motion
Shakes you like a good hangover
I’ll never drink again
Pass the bottle
So often hitting the end of the tracks
This time seems like the worst of them all
Racing to the promised land
Upon Valkyrie wings
No candles lit at this church
Here they blow them out for kicks
No one cares unless they can get the take
People fain surprise at the announcement of corruption
Another blustery storm on its way to jail
Another realization of a broken dream
Thursday, March 12, 2009
You Know its Hard Out Here...
So, I've been relatively absent for quite some time. You may notice that this particular fan club has also seen some removals. Well, let me explain. I've spent the past 2 years of my life much like the previous 4.5, on the road defending freedom. In this particular case I was traveling for our now President, Barack Obama.
It was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. I've met some truly wonderful people and places in the past, but this particular campaign resulted in more than I can quantify. Never before have I seen the type of impassioned and empowered, simply beautiful people that I had the great privilege to work with on this campaign. The absolute brilliance that took place on a day to day basis, on so little sleep, strung out on coffee and your snack of choice (mine was snack sized butterfingers and coca-cola) was simply amazing to witness and something that words cannot describe.
I have found that in the 3 months now that have lapsed since the end of that extraordinary quest, that it has been very difficult to 1) not speak of it and 2) to explain it to those who were not there.
I've caught myself reading back through a series of emails from the closing days of the campaign and thinking about what not only this campaign, but the last now 7 years of my life have meant to me and to those that my work has touched. One particular email has hit me harder than most. It took me several readings to accept what it was saying and for myself to accept what that person was trying to tell me. She is an inspiration to me and that is why I've decided to restart this blog.
I am going to attempt in the next series of posts to lay out my experience and what this campaign and this lifestyle means to me, what you could call the 2nd Inaugural Launching of this fan club. I encourage those of you who have shared in this journey to comment and send me posts. To those of you who have been on past journeys with me or to those who witnessed this journey from the outside of the organization, please send me posts and comment as well. Not all will be rosy descriptions of the amazing volunteers, not all will be rants about the things that drove us nuts. It is my hope that each post, each story will be balanced and in the end, educational. It is through each perspective that I hope to illustrate to all those who read these entries, just what this life we lead is all about and why we do it.
It was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. I've met some truly wonderful people and places in the past, but this particular campaign resulted in more than I can quantify. Never before have I seen the type of impassioned and empowered, simply beautiful people that I had the great privilege to work with on this campaign. The absolute brilliance that took place on a day to day basis, on so little sleep, strung out on coffee and your snack of choice (mine was snack sized butterfingers and coca-cola) was simply amazing to witness and something that words cannot describe.
I have found that in the 3 months now that have lapsed since the end of that extraordinary quest, that it has been very difficult to 1) not speak of it and 2) to explain it to those who were not there.
I've caught myself reading back through a series of emails from the closing days of the campaign and thinking about what not only this campaign, but the last now 7 years of my life have meant to me and to those that my work has touched. One particular email has hit me harder than most. It took me several readings to accept what it was saying and for myself to accept what that person was trying to tell me. She is an inspiration to me and that is why I've decided to restart this blog.
I am going to attempt in the next series of posts to lay out my experience and what this campaign and this lifestyle means to me, what you could call the 2nd Inaugural Launching of this fan club. I encourage those of you who have shared in this journey to comment and send me posts. To those of you who have been on past journeys with me or to those who witnessed this journey from the outside of the organization, please send me posts and comment as well. Not all will be rosy descriptions of the amazing volunteers, not all will be rants about the things that drove us nuts. It is my hope that each post, each story will be balanced and in the end, educational. It is through each perspective that I hope to illustrate to all those who read these entries, just what this life we lead is all about and why we do it.
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