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American Splatter

art up your arse!

23 June 1982
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  • dave_gringo@livejournal.com
Tonight babe Im inspired not sure how long it will last so I better get this out before it runs away again. God gave me hair so I cut it all off just to show I was an independent creature still believing in Karma. Some days I wake up and I think I should cut off my hands to keep myself out of trouble and other times I don't think at all my brain turns into wet sloppy cement waiting for someone's something to make a long lasting impression. Of course nothing ever sticks, it dries up and it gets paved over with someone's new something something that makes more sense at the current moment than what was imprinted there before. My own mind becomes sloppy seconds to ideology, philosophy and politics. Questions of god mans nature mans destiny a personal question here and there will I die young will I be lonely the rest of my life will I be a famous writer or a genius left in the gutter with. Some day I will take a jack hammer to my head and I will dig up all the old impressions just to see what is there. Some bullshit your mind will pull when you have a lack of love in your life. A word is all it will take to make you think someone is worth the time but its just a trick no one is worth another human beings time. Molly you flip your wig too easily. There is nothing worth spilling tears over in this life; a baby dies but two more are born to replace it so its no big loss. My you are a beauty; you’re beautiful so you cant be trusted. Not a word of what you say seems legit, the more you talk the more it just makes me suspicious of the times you don't call when you say you will and there are only so many times I will believe that old we->haven't->met->yet excuse you keep giving. The more times you tell me you care the more times I begin to think there is someone new someone better someone that isn't me. I know you think its rough but its easy, it goes down like cake and leaves a sweet taste too. Don't feel down just cause you got it all wrong, its something that you don't understand a complicated math problem that is still being worked out by the higher ups. Smile for me babe cause Im going off to war to die die die.Tired out of smokes sober and alone dying to get touched by a kind woman who probably doesn't exist in real life thinking about all the women I've been in all the girls I've fucked and how many of them fucked me in the end wondering if it was worth getting off wondering if they didn't walk away with more than I did think about if any of them tell there new boyfriends what an asshole of a lay I was I wonder if they tell them about me at all or if I have become a deep dark secret. The world, microcosm universes, blood rushing through my body, people falling in love, couples fucking these are what Im thinking of none of it being work or work related. Being a hopeless defunct romantic idealist in these days is about as useful as a gun with no balls. It’s good to be what I am, its good to have the gun but what use is it without the balls to pull the trigger; what good are the thoughts without any action behind them. This thought enters: Am I a writer because I write or do I have to be published go on a book signing tour make out with literary groupies become addicted to an upper or downer and then land my ass in front of a camera plugging my latest piece of shit recovery book on how the drugs and groupies ruined me or is it as simple as the first school of thought:I do therefore I am. I am out of shape, out on my ass, out of a relationship and soon I will be out of work. Life is looking up because essentially once it all falls down it can only get better; once a building falls apart it can be built back up with a stronger foundation. Tired out of smokes sober and alone dying to get touched by a kind woman who probably doesn't exist in real life but above all more than anything even more than that cocaine fix I have on a woman all I really wish I had was a cigarette. It was a great Karmic mistake that we were all born and so we now have to work toward a better life and if we fuck this life up its ok, dont worry, dont shed a tear because we have a lifetime of lifes to get it right and as long as we try together we can fail together. Never flirted with a waitress while I waited for my coffee. Maybe it would have been good for me to flash her a look and who knows maybe she would have given me a cute look but I grew up shy and Im still that little quiet kid too shy to speak to anyone. The waitress could have given me a look of love but she didnt she gave me my coffee and some creamer and thats what I ordered so thats all I deserve. Too bad she’s cute otherwise I might feel more comfortable about giving her a look up but the coffee is good and the check is cheap so I pay and leave no tip. NO! I never flirted with a waitress Ive never given the eye to a cute girl who works for tips maybe it would be good for me maybe it would be good for her maybe it would be good for the both of us but Im already halfway down Grant Ave. Drank some wine outside Dans door and thought about all the times I sat in his bathtub smoking cigarettes talking to myself thinking things would be like this forever but I walked out of his bathroom and I drove home drunk a million times and it always seemed to fall apart but outside Dans door with a bottle of wine to myself and some good times with good friends I feel alright with it all right now. My head exploded so I knew it was all a dream; my body wandered aimlessly without a head to guide it. Walked the streets sit on a corner and smoke a cigarette headless my lungs fill up and blow smoke out of my neck making me look like a smoke stack or chimney. I wonder what I look like to the folks who dont get a headless dreamer smoking his last cigarette on a street corner somewhere in America. I should be at work Im late but what difference does it make its the thought that counts. Im not even thinking of work. No desire or greed anymore, no drugs, no drink none of the old vices just strong morales and ideas paving my way to sure fire success. At the end of my cigarette which is the last in its pack and coincidently the end of my idea; I stand unstable on my feet (always had a problem with stability of all sorts) I walk one foot then the other then the previous foot again and that is the beat I begin to walk to. Work a hell hole of an idea pointless and all together useless in my eyes. People come in and out of the shop while I sit behind a desk and do nothing but put random words together to keep myself from growing dull and mindless for the next six hours, would be eight but I was two hours late for obvious reasons. A cute girl comes in eighteen which means legal to look and touch. Curvey hips, retro shirt a vintage rock shirt like Velvet Underground or Psychedelic Furs but of course she probably bought it at some big chain store that sells reprinted vintage t-shirts. A guy, an older fellow but only by a year or two comes in looking like a lost puppy dog. He finds her and shoves his nose right up her ass like a puppy should. Dont ever leave me alone that little puppy says; I was so scared and lost that little pup barks; I missesd you so much let me like your face like a good pup should. Words fail to express the failure I can feel sometimes. Seeing folks younger than me with full time jobs supporting a wife and kids I wonder if I'm just single or if I have just been prolonging my adulthood. Is it that other person that puts you in the next bracket or is that other person just a burden that slowly kills you? So I ask myself all this while I try to sleep.