cinq: ten percent of your happiness comes from your neighbors
i guess this is one of those concepts we dont bother to think about often. The night is cold and windy in the desert . weather testing?.santana winds.? or desert demons ? ask an expert all i know is that it made for a perfect backdrop for an interesting question posed that would lead into a long converstation about cultural relations and human connections.Marco ask's me. are you mad at her ? interesting how blind i can be sometimes.blind as to what effect i have on people, and my interconnections to there lives.Marco sits next to me in geology class . we dont talk much .but last week i did lent him a dollar if it means anything. hes the nice guy type . fairly quite.he wants to be a police officer and has a lazy eye.Tonight he brings to my attention that my recent break up has been causing him much suffering. He tells me how unconfertable it is for him to sit next us now that we are no longer producing the ubundant playfull energy that once was.if it wernt such a brave and interesting question i would be gone now. The wind is intense and im getting sand in my eyes.Regardless ,at this point im smiling but not know i have been causing him discomfert. rather it is that type of smile you get on your face after falling off bike to realize that besides some scraps and scratches you are ok . the "im alive" smile .sometimes pain is a good reminder for present existence.The converstation of my break up and its interconection with him goes on for almost an hour. As we sit in his car old mexican boleros are playing. I think its "noche de requerdos" on 96.7. He begins to tell me stories of how it made him so happy to see us exchanging smiles while we shared lunch together or walked to class. And now he feels as if though something is missing.like a part of his life has been rudley ripped away from him. I dont really have much to say but thank you. it is clear that things are much larger than oneself. some one is always watching.

sleepless in the spring.

insomniacs quatre:

I haven’t had any sleep since Sunday, now my head hurts and footsteps seem costly, eyes burn like lava beds and my throat is dry like Death Valley. My heart, content and sentimental. But it’s only after long moments of pondering the many minutes, moments, smiles I have seen, my childhood, the first time my lips made contact with a girl, riding my bmx down to the circle k by the freeway for a jumbo pickle and big Gulp, falling in love again in my early twenties. Things often don’t go well like on my first date when I elbowed Christina in the eye while trying to do the “distract the girl by yawning and but your arm over her shoulder trick,” which only works in movies. But anyway misadventured dates are topic of a different story. This one is about the new found insomnia that has been perpetually visiting in these days of 2010. I couldn’t really say when this started. It seems as if no pivotal instance can be found. Maybe I am dying, maybe its resurrection. All I know is that things are changing and every day I am heaving hallucinations, overloaded with emotions. Along with them come burning lights that leave painful incisions on my pupils. Even my hygiene is taking a beating, not that showering ever seemed very enticing to begin with. There’s something very unpleasant with the feeling that comes after being in water for to long. How long would it take for a person to turn 100% water? I’m thinking somewhere between three and four days. But this isn’t backed up by any real facts and I am far from being a dermatologist. There have been many suggestions for curing my sleepless torment things like Melatonin, chamomile tea, marijuana, and even drinking before bed. None of which I have made an effort to try. Last night when Sarah and I were in bed I was sighing to distract myself from the tossing and turning. But I don’t think she liked it very much. “Do some Yoga,” she told me. Stretch, breath, be the swan. Perhaps the corpse pose. At times I’ve wanted to apologize for this unstable sleeping pattern. Apologize to her, to my neighbor who have to hear my blaring trumpet to off set moment of the night, to my dog Marley who’s been loyally keeping me company and missing out on her midnight walkabouts and to myself for God knows what. But when I try to extend these apologies, the over amplified Ticks and Tocks drown out my voice and leave me defeated and in many ways too embarrassed to talk about the condition of sleeplessness. “Stop Stressing!” Sarah’s voice echoes. Kiss me to sleep I plead in silence. Remind me of childhood, warm embraces and better times.

Day Six of Sleeplessness
from the secound issue of the Common Good Press zine of College of the Desert.
for a copy email fameconnection@gmail.com

tres: un poco para el audio

numero dos: being bored is only an illusion

example.uno :. art straight from the xerox machine in the office.

i am home

day one: I have come across the information that information is now a free giveaway. im joining the bandwagon . literally and figurativley . and of course my spelling is terrible but maybe creative writing skills my still be good enough to make something interesting out of this thing. my mother always loved to hear me talk as did most of my friends well atleast thats what it seemed like even when i didnt have beer to drink or grass to smoke.but really it was all the beer i had and weed to smoke who knows. Anyway. so be it here i am .Now . the wind blows gently into my window and the sounds of La Habana ooze heavily out of the decreped laptop speakers. tommorow will be a new day with stories to tell.











alas you are here now.