My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

I formulate infinity stored deep inside of me…

Archive for November, 2009

Tattoo #28

November 11th, 2009 | Category: Life,Tattoos

So, it’s the afternoon before my last trache change. My friend, Kim, and I are just sort of lazed out and listening to music. I’m trying to decide on my pre-trache change tattoo. I always get at least one in between traches, it’s been my routine for awhile. I have a bunch of ideas, different lyrics from different songs. They’re all good, but they don’t fit my current melancholy. Then Elliott Smith starts singing A Distorted Reality is Now a Necessity to Be Free. He sings, “I’m floating in a black balloon…” I say to Kim, “Oh, idea! Draw me a black balloon…” She grabs a notebook, and a cheap black pen, and she draws something perfect.

Tattoo by Colt, hardcore fuckin' badass at Doc Dog's Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor City

Tattoo by Colt, hardcore fuckin' badass at Doc Dog's Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor City

It’s a perfect visual metaphor for how I feel much of the time, just floating around all lonely, all dark.



November 11th, 2009 | Category: Life

So, this domain,, is renewed for another year. I know, it’s exciting


In the next year, year number two of this blog, I’m going to focus more of my writing on tiny babies, tiny baby unicorns, tiny kittens wearing pashminas, and turtles having sex. Turtle sex is really hot, just think about it.


Open mic tomorrow

November 11th, 2009 | Category: Life

So, it’s open mic again tomorrow, and I’m running out of old stuff to read. I want to write something new, something really worth reading, but I’m just kind of stuck lately. Sometimes the words are so easy, just so right there, and other times they’re just not. I’m a fellow in need of inspiration.


Tattoo #27

November 10th, 2009 | Category: Life,Tattoos

So, there’s this Nirvana song, Hairspray Queen, and my favorite line ended up being my twenty-seventh tattoo…

I don’t sleep easily. I have trouble turning off my head, I almost never feel content enough to just close my eyes and drift off. I’ve tried liquor to lull me, and meds to make things fade, but honest to Christ sleep is very rare to me. I don’t sleep, I have only the dark to keep me company more often than not. I stay up, sometimes until the night starts to go from black, to grey, to blue. I stay up, and think about so much.

At night, I always feel things that I want so badly, things that the day can drown out. Most nights, I just want a particular someone asleep next to me, asleep with my arm around her. When she’s close I don’t feel lonely, night is actually peaceful. Loneliness is the feeding I hate most, loneliness is all that scares me anymore. Loneliness is why some nights I’ve felt like opening my wrists just to make it stop. At night, what I want is so clear, and the wanting is so intense, whether it’s something beautiful, or… not.


Tattoo by Colt, hardcore fuckin' badass at Doc Dog's Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor City

“At night, wish the hardest…” It’s so true, at least to me.


Negative Creep

November 09th, 2009 | Category: Life,Opinions,Random Thought

I have to say that Negative Creep is probably the most fun song to sing when in a dark mood. The words are garbled, Kurt’s pretty much just screaming into the mic, it doesn’t really tell a story, but it’s just so full of raw energy. I like to sit here sometimes, screaming with Kurt, and sometimes I still expect to feel air move past my lips and hear the voice I hear in my head.

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Tattoo #26

November 09th, 2009 | Category: Life,Tattoos

So, a few months back, I had a poem published in an issue of Weird Tales Magazine, and I wrote it a few months before that.  I got the idea in my head listening to a Nirvana song, Stain. I was feeling especially lonely, especially empty, and the song just sounded so right. I felt like a stain, something awful. I wanted to take the word “stain” as a metaphor and make it something more literal. I wanted to write about how being close to someone can end up causing so much pain, how it can cost a person everything. I wanted to write something beautiful, and dark, and brutal, all at once. So, I went out, had couple of vodka tonics, and wrote what I wrote. It’s just a quick little piece about a woman who seems beautiful, and this fellow, and an encounter that ends very badly. I wrote that, and it got published.

I often still feel the way I felt when I wrote You’re a Stain, and it’s the first thing I’ve ever had published in print, and I love the song…


Tattoo by Colt, hardcore fuckin' badass at Doc Dog's Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor City

Hence tattoo #26.


Almost forgot

November 09th, 2009 | Category: Life

Aside from love of the craft, I write to be known, and to make honest connections with people, that’s why I started this blog. Nobody has to read what I write, or like it, or even like me, but the writing’s always out there. Lately though, I’ve been really down on my writing, just hating every single fucking word I slam down. Which isn’t really right. I love writing, and I know there are some people who like what I write, sometimes it even helps people. The problem, a problem, is that I just hate how I feel. Lonely, bored, depressed, uneasy, functionally suicidal, afraid, it’s all me, and it all shows up in whatever I write.

For awhile now, I’ve been very self-conscious about showing these things in writing. It’s very easy to write wide open when you feel like you have absolutely nothing to lose, it’s so easy. Palahniuk writes about it, there’s a certain sort of freedom in losing all hope. It’s a horrible freedom, the sort of freedom where slitting your wrists seems like a fuckin’ awesome idea, but as a writer I could feel that feeling, write it into something, and not worry that someone I love will read it and maybe stop loving me back. You don’t have to worry about someone to lose, when there is no someone. When there is someone, honest writing gets complicated, at least to me. The thing is, and it’s something I almost forgot, if I want to feel genuine closeness to someone, I can’t stop being honest. I want the freedom found in honesty, not hopelessness. I can’t stuff things in a box, and stick that box in the attic, and expect to feel close to someone.

My writing has been the one place where I don’t hide things. I’m the sort of writer who bleeds out in words, that’s how I write. Even when I write fiction, I’m still in there somewhere. People write differently, for different reasons. I write descriptions of whatever’s in my head, dark or otherwise, because I don’t want to fade out feeling like no one ever really knew me because I never let anyone in. I’m not perfect, and I write about those imperfections. I want someone to love me, imperfections and all. I want to be worth it to someone. I’ll never find that if I’m locking things away.


Away awhile, mostly

November 09th, 2009 | Category: Life

So, I’ve decided that I should go away awhile. I won’t be Tweeting, or IMing, or Facebooking, it’s all stopped. I’ll still answer e-mail, and blog comments, and I’m going to try writing more, but all other digital communication is ceased. I really don’t know how long this will last, I suppose until I figure some things out.


Open mic night #2

November 06th, 2009 | Category: Life

So, last night was another open mic night at Cafe Bohemia. I, for whatever reason, picked out many of my more obscure pieces…

Drowned kittens

Happy and Sad

I wonder

Your daily suicides

You’re all

And he made a whisper out of you…

One passing dusk

Waking up someone who isn’t me

Let you in

I think people liked them, but I’m not sure. Listening to Jimmy (my open mic voice) read, I just started thinking about how so fucking weird I am. Then I started thinking about someone close to me, and wondering how all my weird looks in her eyes.


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