Happenings and Happenstance

I'm needing models (of sorts) to take portraits of. I have a bunch of black and white film and need to take photographs of faces for my own enjoyment. Let me know if your interested.

On Saturday, March 7th, at 7:30 PM, Artocratic Presents
Greg Dember,
Evan Gross,
and Willem van Spronsen/ the Super8

at the Neptune Coffee house 8415 Greenwood Ave. N. Seattle

I am good friends with Willem/The Super 8 and they can be found here: www.myspace.com/thesuper8band

Well worth the check out at least.

Speaking of bands, Saint Brickhouse is changing to Mahoot and has some wicked songs up at:
www.myspace.com/mahootmusic

Other than that, I wrote my shitty poetry I then proceeded to throw out. I lost my work when I lost my harddrive so I'm struggling trying to re-create and innnovate new stuff.

Been working hard on this so called "memoir" which is primairly about two very different points in my life I merged into one. Its "creative non fiction" for sure.

Here is something small I was wrote one night with my head in my clouds but my feet hung tight to the ground

Passive moments in wintertime as it paved into spring. I left you when the morning arose and I found myself a new person hiding beneath this skin. Finding love in overlapping circles of social grace and personified glory. A car driving north to friendships on tin foil and lace. A clean house and a romantic gesture leaves traces of forgotten romance that died in early 2004 with a man, a guitar and a hope for the future.

There is a silence in the early morning when the rest of the world is sleeping and I’m taking pills and drinking drinks to keep the hurt from turning to hate. There is nothing else to say. I swear, I know it’s true. I keep remember the day you first left, the cocaine on the floor, the trip to the dump. “I *heart* huckabees” on the television. The kisses and the promises that we would never keep. There is a tired romance that comes with greyhound terminals and the lovers I have left for dead at them. Leaving always, for farms that hold no home. Its as if holding you in my arms were as if holding strangers to lose change they ask.

There was a connection so deep between us it scared the life out of anybody who came close. Or, at least, that is what you told me. It explained a lot. I tried, for months I tried, to figure out how to say hello without sounding so cruel. Then I tried to say goodbye without sounding cruel. It's hard.

That is all.