Bereverence

1.1: Gaze upon this child
As he crawls out of bed
With a frown on his face
And tears in his puffy,
Red eyes staring down
Trinkets and photos that
Only remind him of his
Bereverence.

1.2: Observe the despair
In his canter, and the
Stoicism he fails to mask
Himself within.

1.3: The bereaved believes
Baptism is what he needs,
To that end he seeks to soak
His sadness and drown it
In a frigid shower.

1.4: The child hesitates to
Check his phone, lest a
Reminder of any variety
Appear as a notification.

1.5: Watch his agony and
Learn, for his body is too
Weak to expel the stress that
Sticks to his bones, and he
Must induce the pain himself
To feel better by retching.

1.6: Make way for the child,
As he has finally summoned
The strength to stand again.

1.7: Do not mistake his strength
For his being strong, for he
Is certainly not strong.

1.8: Do not make his same mistake:
That of experiencing the wrath
Of bereverence.

1.9: See now as he walks as though
He has risen from the dead, for he
Has, and he has the strength of
A corpse left flayed in the sun
To decay.

2.0: Bereverence take thee, and smite
The deathly hollow within, rise
From dirt and rocks and experience
Regrowth in the form of yourself.

Bubble Bomber

Nothing quite like
Bathing with you
In the crumbling bubbles
Of a bomb dissolving

In between what can’t
Literarily be described
As making love
On a bed we didn’t own

Then we got Wendy’s
And you got
A chicken sandwich
And I got it spicy

Whereupon we had
Brunch in that bed,
Clean and carefree
Seemingly and

Watched a show
On netflix
You were the one
That turned me on to

And kissing you
Every moment of the day
Is above and beyond
Something I will cherish

Truth Or Consequences – Journal 3/17/18

Let’s talk about quantum immortality a little bit.

It’s when you’re about to shoot yourself in the head, but in one reality the gun jams, and in the other it keeps going. Imagine it like leaping from one existence to the next, understanding the you’ve made that jump and also carrying the knowledge of your life while you enter a different universe entirely.

I feel like this week has been a lot like that.

I have secured permission from Tape to use their song Beams in a recording of “Wrong Number”, as it was originally meant to be heard. Distorted, fucked up, and generally garbled. It will be everything that poem was originally meant to be, and I smile at that.

Good-Planes continues to be a copyright infringing specter, and my last journal has taught me that the one standard they do have is a profanity filter on the bot. Damn…

And I’ve decided to pilot a new new series that I tried to do a very long time ago called Ad Basher, where I take advertisements and deconstruct them to tell everybody why they’re shit and just how shit they are. Especially that 45 second one I had to sit through on YouTube mobile yesterday, that was a travesty. It put me in an angry mood, so I seek to use that anger in destroying the hearts of awful marketing!

Also also: did a massive site-wide redesign to reign in the new era as we near Year V. Indigo is a prominent color, it all looks better on mobile, and I’m making way for the oodles of content that seep from every pore of my equipment. I’m going to need a lot of room for things to come, and part of that is kicking around the idea of going for WordPress business class at a staggering $300 a year. 4K video is, however, quite demanding. It could be worth it in the long run.

Something about dropping near $1,100 on a drone over the course of a month seems like a rational expense but $300 a year seems like more of a dedication. I assumed that’s mostly because it relies on me continuing to make content and do cool stuff that attracts attention. What an awful way of phrasing “do things that I like doing but also have people look at it”. Maybe I’ll bite the bullet when I hear back from UWT about how nice they’re going to be to me.

So the other day, guess what happened? I absolutely drove to Ellensburg again, this time with the pretenses of flying the Monarch instead of just fucking about waiting to visit someone for 30 minutes.

I learned many things on 3/13/18, and chief among those was that there were WAAAAAYYY cooler spots to fly a drone out there along the way than Ellensburg itself. Snoqualmie Pass? Yes, please! Cle Elum! Hell yeah! Why didn’t we stop there and there? Because my head was clouded too much with nostalgia for a summer where I had visited it previously. Wasn’t even that great, to be honest.

So it was with this whimsy that I started up a truck, grabbed a friend, and drove for 5 and a half hours to be disappointed. I got footage, though! Very, very uninteresting footage that I even put in the video itself.

But let’s get away from disappointments and look forwards towards Year V. Year IV begins to draw to a close in this final quarter of not just Pierce College but also this concurrent year of Radio Reality City.

I have a list of things I would like to accomplish when I go to a 4 year school, or something. Anywhere that isn’t Pierce god damn give-me-all-of-your-money College. Where evidently the chancellor has even heard my plight and declared “Oh, the system has failed this student!”, not realizing that it was CONTINUING to fail. Fuck college, I have a drone.

Things look so small on an iPhone screen when you’re flying a DJI Phantom 3 Professional at an FAA-demanded max altitude of 400 feet. Next stops for the Monarch include Tacoma, Puyallup, and maybe even Olympia! I mixed up my schedules and got out with the Monarch much more than I recorded Days of Reality City, so maybe Days will get better in spring instead and I’ll be focusing on the Monarch until then.

Fuck me, it’s already the 17th. Spring is in 4 days. I’ve got 4 days, essentially, until my self-administered deadline expires. That ought to ramp things up.

Also also: lately I’ve been in the market for a new vehicle and for some reason I specifically want a tank to drive around in. I think it’d be fun.

As part of the opening statement’s theme, let’s drop an excerpt of a poem about quantum immortality in here, because we’re in that kind of riotous mood. Here’s an excerpt from “Thursday in the Danger Room”:

“I wouldn’t let it, so through
My helmet burst tendrils
Of old gods to smite the thoughts
That the pain had caused

Splattering my head against steel
Smashing my chest, so it could steal
The last motions of my living body
And keep it standing so bloody

It was already tomorrow,
Said I,
Yesterday, said the cosmos,
And then it was”

Alright, enough distracting myself. Gotta type up some more stuff tonight, because I’ve been writing again and reconnecting and taking photos and something’s gotta give.

Thank you for tuning in to this little update, and consume reality!

Radio Reality City!

https://radioreality.city

 

Ten Hours

Italian desserts in an afternoon waterfront sun breaking down the chains that bound ships to the piers we walk along

Walking for miles for no particular reason and with dusk we turn to cruising all around the county aimlessly

When we kiss you taste so good like a sweet medley as you roll around as words in my mouth and everything else stops

A 24/7 coffee shop that mixes energy drinks isn’t all it takes to keep me from zombifying as I’m still entranced

Strange how after two years it comes down to three beaches in ten hours and a show of force of what we can do now

How things have changed and yet are still the same because we’ve still got reactive chemistry with no strings

Kinda fucked up how it took this long to get to a point where we could express it. Have you been waiting for me?

I don’t know, but I do know that it’s here now, whatever this is. Nobody question and let’s keep the pressure on living.

Limping into my home tired as hell at 3a.m. after spending an entire day with you who made it for me especially.

Taking pictures of the sea and driving along while we listen to songs and belt them far out loud to annoy everyone else.

Something interesting is happening here. The wait: anticipate the potential that the chemistry we have can make.

Qasidat L Nadin

From the concrete jungle
Beaches of Olympia
I have set sail
In winds’ prevail
To land upon a coast
Of any fresh hell.

Gone are we
On an endless sea.
What bay shore
Upon we may prey
As predators is what
We hunt for:

Experiences.
Made memories.
Us both are
Birds of prey.
Into abyss
Let’s interplay.

Ibila

Sneaking out
Driving out
What we have
We can’t live without

Thrill
Mystery
Exploration
Murmuration

Making memories

Kissing you
After a long drag
Of your cigarette
Flavored nostalgia

I could feel
Smoke rushing
Between lips
Like a

Chemical cloud
Between us

A wonderful
Rough kiss
With lethal
Potential

Corrupting my skin
Collapsing my lungs
Staining my mouth
And venting through teeth

Lips so hot
Our sweat starts to steam
In the day, in the place
That shouldn’t be
And never was

And never was
Raining down

Not at the beach
Not at the clean sea
No casual trail
No corroded bridge

Nothing I see
Should be

This whole thing:
An anomaly

Your hair
Your body
Lingerie
City talking
Dirty to me
And how can I

Walk away
From this day
When it
Still wants me

Fingernails gently carving
Up my back
And being ran
Through my hair

Even as the incense
Of your love
Sticks to me
While I drive away

Even as
There are promises
For the impossible future
To take place

We continue
No expectations needed
Just you and me

Days and places
That shouldn’t be

Our Esque

Bare bodies
Dog tags

Idle clink
Idyll sink
Of heat

As our brands
Gravitate
And demand
To touch

Two murmurs
In our
Heartbeats
Yearning
Conquering
The other

Ramadan
Memorial
Some weekend
Shanghaied

Cigarette smoke
Swirling sunset
And we’re only
Protected

By our marks
Our murmurs
Our esque
Dog tags

Clashing
Jingling
Moving
Together

Like waves
In an ocean
And you’re
A rowboat on
My bay

Jingling
Parallel
Mingling
As I sink
Into you
And you rise
With me