Dig the eyes.

The only music I feel like I'd want to go see other than Sixto Rodriguez anymore is underground hip hop. Is there a set limit of listeners that you get that prevents you from being underground? Is there some rule?

Immortal Technique.

Morning (((((((PP))))))))

I'm stealing that picture.

It's always a cat's game.

Cool picture.

Here's a stylized photo capture of what happened to me today.

Insomnia in California.
Like expecting
the streetlights to blink with you.
Getting home drunk
from church service
or SA, or
maybe a PTA meeting.
Acronyms and alcoholic
wonder fill the blank page like
bottle rocket kisses on the
frothing lips of
neon children,
heads bent backwards,
waiting for
an awkward sun.

And I never believed in the ocean
'til I was swimming with some Brit
outside a pink castle in the
Gulf of Mexico and
he says,
"Great water for sharks."
like
that's something to pour
on the front page of the hotel pamphlet.

And I didn't think I'd
ever be so tired my
shadow needs to
stretch.
Reruns of Nip/Tuck.
Broken TV.
FX.

Colors like broken crayons
assaulting my wonderlust, wandering lost
nowhere, here in
the strip, naked in baggy clothes like
so many rolly pollies that
I never named
back where all my friends
call home.

That's all I got. I'm supposed to wake up early.