things have not changed
the center will hold
nothing unknown will be loosed upon this world
do not think innocence is lost
at best, the worst stumble beneath us
no revelation is at hand
excepting that one i trust
darkness held at bay with words
rough beast among us? only these lines.

dreadful things
full circle around
places been
leave
step out from here
leave out reasons
can trust be
thought once strong
imagined support left
crumbled
crying for
please leave for greener
post applied for
belated wishes upon winds
changed places
beggars about pieces
cleft into
I often wonder on this
look into respected eyes
left unsaid
too late for last minute goodbyes
blanket this world with your gaze
push this boundary beyond
place this where all can see
wonder at
this once
well thought
resounding yes
lacks faith
lacking faithless
last full plates
take all you
can hoard
gorge
into knowing
nothing.

I've decided to write everyday until something happens. I can't tell you what that is yet, but perhaps the goal, long term, is sufficiency; to provide any monetary sum for this life by writing would be good. I'm willing to concede that, as I don't consider myself good enough to write for art's sake. So, I will continue this until I produce an economically viable product.
Let me cry at night knowing I am ought but a sellout, a lying no-good deceiver.
Read: sarcasm.
I like $.

Attention staff:

Please forward all concerns through the proper channels, ensuring they will never concern me. Active participation in the facilitation of a positive work environment is aggressively discouraged. Notification of management in the case of beleaguerment, depression, fatigue, truancy, improper training, or general malfeasance will be met with disinterest, annoyance, or anger. Please consider only yourself in all actions. Customers are not to be trusted, engaged, notified, alerted, helped, served, or talked to, except in dire circumstances, or under duress. There is to be absolutely no talking, touching, laughing, singing, dancing, horseplay, shenanigans, tomfoolery, bumfuckery, asscrackery, poopshackery, blazing up, throwing back, belching, vomiting, moving, calling, or talking, touching and laughing while at work. Under no circumstances should the management be troubled with any of the following: broken down vehicles, annoyed customers, equipment on the fritz, complaints, bathroom breaks, phone calls, nametags, emergencies, time off requests, boyfriends, girlfriends, pets, families, or anything else.

Thank you for your continued efforts in making this the best workplace it can be.

The management.

interesting...

ladybird unition is playing a show on december 29...
i'm listening to upswing right now, and it's a damn good song... damn good.

i have several things to mention here...
-what the heck?
-please, stop bringing cell phones to movies.
-again with the tuna?
-pass the mayo.
-look to windward
-read a book
-leave me alone.

-Rob
"fear is the mind-killer"

look out onto this pathway trodden
I’ve passed this way countless time before
I consider myself
myself not well traveled I consider myself
arrange yourself in a certain way
arms over head
reach for this that I hold for you
create emotions
searching for you
I looked out
this path I’ve traveled
I’ve placed my foot so often here
gather my friends
not too near
bless this piece
this land
dear
lover finds you
I can’t imagine a place I won’t find you
I can’t imagine a place inside
do not try
take this worried sullen face
keep it close
don’t live in fear
look out onto this pathway trodden
so many times before
consider yourself
well traveled
steps remembered well
I can’t imagine this place without you
my curse forgets you
my curse forgets true
this frequented valley of laughter clear
I wish this end for me
I place my own
figured factors unravel
I can’t arrange this perfectly
bless this
find you.

not so assured
self-centered
careless feelings
some work so hard
I among them
wrong
treaded path
forget what I tell you
bring what
to each game
catch words
said in what
attempted privacy
keep out
away from me
consider this I say
look to me
with confidence I tell you
this is not for us
this is not for them
do not lie
hold back
a smile
kill it inside
please with each finger bent
each digit placed
perfectly
align my fingers
in so many ways
so little
say this place
broken tossed shaken
please don’t let me turn
turn into me.

One life lived in perfect harmony with its surroundings; one person in accordance with their environment. A perfectly reasonable goal thwarted at every turn by internal upheaval.

Oh, were it so, I exclaim. To lay all problems upon the table for all to see, and in doing so, absolve oneself of blame.

Consider this instead, I say. Keep all problems at your own peril. Only then will one be forced to confront, contain, and overcome. Work things through as you go.

Attention all: no longer shall I burden you with what ails me! No longer shall I proclaim bold stances, shout ill thought solutions, or type wary claims of clarity for all to see...

No… from now on, I will fill these pages with the fiction of my life, not the bare, hard, sad truth. Look to me no longer for soulful reflections, thoughtful dissertations, or peculiar confessions. The man known as Rob will no longer be an open book; nay, fine reader. “Closed indefinitely,” says the sign o’er my heart, for I’ve locked the door, with the key safely inside. I now declare myself repressed, and better for it.

“Hello, my name is Rob, and I masturbate… and this is the hand that I masturbate with.”

-Rob

road trip Rob

leave me alone
leave this altogether
bring back
whatever looks
nicely done within the confines
of the task
laid before you
look back
wonder
where did things go right
when did I become this
he who stands before himself
blurring the distinction
man and what
who are we you might ask
a shake of the head
do not
look so sad laden with unseen
emotions laid out
for the coming day
ordered for maximization
break off the bead
fling strings across rooms
bring it back
to this
leave me not alone.

The feel of earth between my fingers. The wholeness of being that comes with it. I can’t imagine something different, something unclean as earth is. The sweat, grime, semen and blood that becomes one; isn’t there something in this? Can’t you imagine the clenched fist, proclaiming love? What if this is all there is? What if this is all there is? What if this is all there is?
Look across this bloody sky, take it, make it yours. Proclaim this soil “mine;” not for some utopian ideal, not for some moneymaking play. Greed comes from sight, from what’s in front of us. It comes when we have nothing else, and all we see consumes us.
Pretend what you feel means something. Look to your blood; clench your fist high, feel the flow and flutter of muscle beneath your flesh, rippling beneath skin. Imagine you think I had no idea what I was talking about.
Consider that I suppose.
What we need is in front of us, what we need is there for taking, for controlling. What we need is to take control of what’s in front of us, rein it in, bring it into our being. A shallow man, grasping for some semblance of control? A shallow water running, slipping away. Please come save me from this, look at this and tell me I need saving.
Whatever you do, do not come.
Do not read this with intention, for with intention means with thought, with planning, with the idea that this means something. Read this as a man feels, as a man feeling, plunging his heart into another, pounding through.
Look at this skepticism, look at this is all I ask, look at this and take nothing. Take nothing to your next day. Take nothing to your next day. The slippery feelings fall away.

I’ve been in this spot before
looked out
or in
as the case may have been
I think I can say for certain
I’ve been in this spot before
relay this message as best you can
from some non-abyss
shallow depths of my mind
watch these lines
literally
skip lunch next time
eat more dinner
next time
I’ve been here before
born again
lost again
afraid again
afraid again
look out across this expanse
vast curtained left behind
look, this means something
I’ve been in this spot
I have been here
laugh
if you will I know I will
shake your head
you know and I know
you know
so meet my gaze partway at least
look down in surprise
scream
wail
pretend this is something else.

I write because I have to? I’ve considered that option. I’d like to lay claim to it. I’d like to tell people when they ask, “I’m a writer.” Too many “I’d like’s.”

lay claim to this
take it for your own
the same letter jumps out
looking down
considering such
pleasant thoughts
some such
plaguing haunts
stretch
reach
internalize external
embrace the new
stop making
statements
felt shards
I felt shards of
shall we say
sorrow
morosity
laid at her feet
I danced that night
under a smoky dark sky
on tilted floor
place this
erase this from memory
for only good.

ebbing life
ceasing flow
filtered down
unheard not felt
like this with skin
in hands
softened by tears
pain
filtered from
inconsequential places
in my mind
hidden behind
what lies beneath these thoughts
not a mystery
not wanted
or thought about
forgotten
never existed
an empy space
carved with malice
what once was
skipping stones
lapping water
sample this
for later
please
let's talk about
filter my thoughts
to some end.

the price of something
held for
moments fleeting
cost benefit
maximization
in choice matters
satisfaction cannot
be achieved
in this or
what you might call
experimentation
confronted choices
balance outward
signs of struggle
bring me the head
bring me the head
dare this
to me
I can’t won’t will not
choose
a likeness less
leveled upon me
more than given
broken by more than weight
take this
take this
strangers across crowded rooms
in infinite poses
beckoning choices
learn something
beg for more
come back for less.

I think its Count of Monte Cristo meets Cryptonomicon, with a bit of Lord of the Rings.That would be something to write home about, perhaps even be proud of.

I’m not even sure about that. I’m not even sure about that. I can’t say enough about how unsure I am about that.

Leave it to me to think of this, to bring myself to this and leave it. Left for a purpose, sure, considered, not really. I can’t think of a better way to begin; a better way to think about, or approach, this “matter.”

I sometime wondered what reasons I had, wondered why G was so prominent, and how I’d come to this. The lowest of the middle lows, the basement of mediocrity, the lower middle class. I thought wondering might bring clarity, but I see now, it’s clear now, that it didn’t.

My next question is this: how far can I go; how far can this go? The inevitable conclusion remains a looming stone. I would say teetering, but I won’t. Boulder? Cacophony? Please. Spare me, spear me, spar with me. I almost lost it there, you see. I could tell.

Harold Pinter, a man, met once, well met, and considered. I looked out across, reaching leg for open space, stretching my legs for freedom.

I’m not sure about this anymore.

blood and soil
earthen toned
down repair
consider a path taken
worked and clenched
moist man
smell
odor of earth
ejaculation bringing
release
comfort
sorrow
question not this
instance friendship fades
take not away
these deep lines
lay back and consider
some patterned success story
not this
grasp for nothing
in this
slips through
hours
more control
long curling lengths
give not a memory
cut this leave nothing
becomes less
as still this day.

03.23.06

underhanded
compiled
resented
complicated
grounded
judge a book
grasping at straws
adequate depiction
events left
find an end to this
write an end
bring this down
to a level
left unsaid
spoken
rehearsed
practiced
until perfect
rolling of fingertips
the sweet resolution of it all
look back upon
a meandering swath
cut against a wall
complicate things
imagine things
wonder about this
in particular
keep me at bay
after
sense me
across time space
always wonder.

I've never quite figured this out, as i've said before. I find it difficult to dedicate the time required. I find it difficult. It's easy to say it, easy to think about it, easy to decide in some instant to change it. Doing it is a pain in the ass... not like some people who sit and churn out pages upon pages on a whim... people who like it...

Maybe I like the idea of it?

Maybe I like the thought of it?
The romance of it...
probably the closest i've come to figuring it out.

why the fear?
fear is the mind-killer i proclaim where i can... why not make this available?
i don't know...

maybe it's time to change that...

tried and failed
tried and died

come concern
some unkown
worry about less
than worried about
chasm of space
multiplies falling towards
nothing
imagine the discovery
of nothing
the confirmation
of nothing
the abyss doesn't stare back
focus on something far away
focus on me
remember me
look to me
ask me
wonder about me
realize
nothing
the mystery we so desire
empty
without meaning
try to bare your soul
it's right here
there's nothing more
don't be afraid to smile
laugh
screw them
and leave nothing.

01.10.06

I still really am not sure how to go about this correctly. I don't have a plan...I don't have what you might call... desire... at any real level...

apparently depression runs in the family... first i've heard of it...
apparently i've always been "emotional"...
wonderful...

in a world seemingly dominated by depressed, confused, lackluster, mysterious, wannabe writers... i'm just another brick in the wall...

i suppose at this point i should say i see myself in what i choose to read... that darkness breeds
darkness... or something...

if i change the frame of reference... you see...

choose to live positively... choose to change what you can and accept what you can't...
choose a life lived... with choices... even if they're wrong, the choice was still made, and that in
and of itself is what's important...

so to start over...just fuckin' fire away man... not even thinking about it already produced results...
it's contemplation that really causes problems for me...
plans within plans turns into crap...
rather...
damn... i just lost it... i had it... and i lost it...

well...
there's always next time...

every year festivus comes around, and i really want to make an effort to "connect" with my father, but it seems to elude me every time. i'm not really sure where to start, because although i feel like there's been a disconnect at some point, i don't really know what it involves, or what started it, or how to end it. part of me just thinks talking is the best thing; the every day kind of stuff i'm not very good at with anyone it seems like... a much better listener than a talker... so i've come to think anyway...
i hate to think of myself in the role of estranged son, it seems lame... why so much sameness; it seems the thread of humanity runs throughout... i really have no idea what that means... repitition is great, in music, not so sure about it in writing, but why the hell not?
it seems some thread connects all of us, some shared experience... why else?
i have this tatoo, and i'm embarassed to admit that i'm embarassed to admit to my family what it means, because they'll look at me and say "where the fuck have you been that last 12 years? connect? christ man, you've barely said 5 words to us... we see you all the time, and you don't open your mouth..."
why the struggle to make the most important to us understand just that?...