A Ralphs Among Whole Foods

When I catch my reflection in a dirty mirror
and see that I am not the same
as them
I get sick
and break out into a cold sweat
harassed by the noise
by the image of the guy who is talking

He has straight, combed hair
he had a new orleans themed wedding

I miss hear what he says to me
and I blurt out Anaheim
and say it again

And then I understand my mistake

But the whole while
I think how we aren't really all that alike

He looks like a normal, clean
healthy man
and I am sweaty
and balding

and my hair is frizzy and curly and thin
and my face is bloated and red and dirty
My blood is confused
and lost

I look around the table
and I don't belong
I look around the bar
and I realize that I don't belong

I avoid looking at myself in the mirror
I avoid looking at all the people who are not like me
though

I want to be clear that they are not wrong
and that I am

Though in my head I know
that they are closer to what i'd want to be than I care to admit

We drive home and talk
and I think about my reflection in the mirror
I feel shaky
and sick still and I miss the onramp

I think about my reflection

I think about buying a package of Kraft Singles from a Ralphs around the corner from my house
and wonder if whole foods is secretly a subsidiary of Kraft Foods
marketing to the healthy sect
of society

From head on, i don't hate myself
From the side I nearly die

The time is coming when I will have to become my best self
to give up the Kraft Singles
and beer
and Lays Vinegar and Sea Salt potato chips

and eat a plain salad
and go to the gym
and get a haircut

But even with all these changes
I will still be an alien
masquerading as a normal human male

This was a better night than most
though

There is a video of Sufjan Stevens playing a banjo on a fence on what looks like a farm
and in my heart
I wish it was me

Breaking the silence

when you sit alone
smoking a cigarette
knowing that these things can't go on forever
and the helicopter flies over
shining its light

and two police cars speed up behind you
or pull up to look at my face
when i'm running around the block

when these things happen
you know that change is coming

that it must come

When the world is full of hate
and it seems like nobody knows
what to do

when God is watching
everyone play god
and the people who have no god
are playing god

and the people with guns are speaking for god
and the people with pens are mocking the idea of god
and the people with pens
are writing legislation for god

and the people who don't participate are watching it all
happen on TV
or reading it on reddit

when these things happen
the only truly right thing to do is
stay still
and silent

and sit alone
and watch the helicopter and cars pass you by
while you smoke a cigarette
knowing that this all cannot last

like this

Finger fall off, wagging empty

The chorus
screams for blood
every single day
emptying out their hollow vessels
in shallow tears
shallow emotions

Genuine hardship
genuine regret
purchased for someone else
prostituting themselves
out for causes that disappear in just a few days

Like a child crying
the chorus knows there is a problem
even if they can't articulate it
so they scream
and turn red
and try desperately to be heard

Finger wagging
falling off
empty anger
this is the legacy of the chorus

Who enjoys tragedy
because it feels so good to be right

There is blood on all of our hands
but the fingers still point
while plasma beads and flows to the tip
of our finger nails

We just buried a body
time to bury another one

Don't think about it
don't ever think about it
lest you be buried too

Don't think anymore
it isn't worth it

Used to be one of the rotten ones

Thinking back to cold nights
learning how to smoke a cigarette
crushing so hard
confusing cool friends
for potential saviors

It's hard to regret even a second of it though
freezing air seeping in my jeans
and nervously adjusting and readjusting
to hide the whole time

Everything from then smelled like ash
But it was sweeter to me
when I was young

Reading magazines furiously
forming in my mind
the things I wanted to be
And mostly missing the mark

But I wasn't sitting on my hands
at home

Remember blogs?
When somebody cool told you about one
and they seemed so amazing
to a suburban boy

And now they're all gone
or something might call itself one
but for anyone who remembers that short time
it just isn't the same

I remember driving when I shouldn't have
where I shouldn't have
sleeping on couches
and having the privilege of seeing the peak of a
time and place
and person

Those girls
those cool girls
They were my teachers

I remember them now
differently than I did then

Just the same way that smoke is more annoying
and headache inducing these days
It has to end

I only hope to make something as bright and good as that again

Navel gazers

At once all the wars seemed to blend
together screaming
out at each other like a bloody antelope
coming to grips
with the lion's jaws around its neck.

The world was falling apart
in a constant stream of terrible tragedy
and bad becoming good
and good becoming bad
With the weak an downtrodden
now crushing a new minority
and somehow not remembering what it was
like to be crushed.

Yet still with all this noise
flooding my ears
I can't help but wonder if it has always been this way.

Is there a tipping point of no return
or a circular, repeating saw
with each sharpened tooth eventually making a cut
while on the opposite end
another blade wonders if it will ever have its turn.

Is it like watching a sunset and saying to ourselves
that it was the greatest sunset of all time
because of how we felt
in that moment
from that perch
ignoring the fact that
even on a cloudy, rainy day
that same sun still displays its splendor
out of our unfortunately limited view.

Does an ant know what is happening on the other side of a grassy field
or have concept of creatures under
the water in a pond?

Does it matter?

Is our attempt to connect all corners of the globe
and right all wrongs
and feel all pain
from the west to the east
and north to south
not just in vain
but vanity itself?

An animal might gather food for a
cold season
because it is necessary
and even in our own complex world
we must ask ourselves
what is really necessary?

The ugly haze

The morality of the crowd
is a yellow smog
that creeps under doors
and around fences
into our souls

It is strengthened by hate
by ambiguity
made powerful by it's numbers

There was a man who blew smoke
in a woman's face as he walked by her
on the lake bridge
and he didn't care
because the haze is uncaring
inhuman
but a product of human nature

The frenzy of self righteousness
is inhaled
like a noxious drug
it feels like the high ground
but it obscures itself
in itself
and deceives those who believe in it

The morality of the crowd is like religion
with no rules
a god
whose only rule is to stay out of the way

preaching happiness
we find that
nobody is happy anymore
because nobody cares anymore

Just like that man on the bridge

Burning the trail

Smoke between your ears
you judge
and protect yourself from judgement
but like an approaching fire
the heat will eventually
inevitably march on

Burning your skin
singing your brow
until the little beads of sweat
start to boil
and bubble
cooking your skin
red faced

You hide from reality
too easily
you hide behind made up words
and supposedly deep philosophical
garble
that come out of your mouth as awkwardly as
gravel

The worst part
is anyone who really loves you
can see how far the fire has come
charring your heart
of its former green
life

You lose yourself daily and hate
hate hate hate
hate
everyone who doesn't love

and in that hate
you find shelter

Like a crustacean taking a warm bath
in a boiling pot

An expected failure or fork

Am I really such a loveable loser
that my flaws disappear
in the glow from my heart?

And these things are always on my mind
moreso every day they become more real
when future plans become procrastinations

Like my future is school paper
that I should have started weeks ago
and it's due at midnight
Will I even have anything to turn in

Or to show for it

And you
so willing to allow yourself
to be carried along by me
convinced that someday
I could lead you
to a place uncommon
a better place

And I admit
feeling that myself
But it was easier
when failing to do so
would have resulted in
lost potential

But with you
it is so different isn't it?
And you willfully ignore it
or brush it off
don't you?

I guess sometimes the future is either too hard to predict
or too scary to look at?

Is it really so hard to know the destination
when my feet are set in this path?
Or should I have faith
that somewhere
a ways down
there might be a fork
I never could have
expected?

We are two explorers
in an increasingly dense wood
looking for a clearing
but you are just
looking at me.

The special ability in youth

When my mind races
At what feels like 1000 times
Faster than it should
Time seems to slow down
And it's hard to concentrate

It used to happen all the time when
I was young
Like a special gift
I was given and had no
Control over

But I know that things like that
Have left me since getting older
Like being able to
See many colored dots before I fell asleep

Or knowing that wasted time was
Mostly time for self exploration
Like the electric swirls I learned to control
Or the anxious dread I can
Force my body into on command

And it all shaped me into
A very tightly controlled
Defensive machine
Where all my attributes became defense mechanisms
And my tastes became closely guarded secrets

Putting others around me into the
Position of being threats to my
No longer special traits
And instead imprisoned
My mind in paranoia

Of a nuclear submarine out to sea for months
Pinging the ocean
And mistaking schools of fish
For foes

Not a part of the sea but a
Drowning island within it
Like Atlantis
Or the colossus at Rhodes

And since my mind continues to
Lose touch with the freedom I
Once had no control over in youth
I've become trapped
In a system of my own invention

Unable to love freely
Unable to think earnestly

Just a torpedo barreling
Toward a blind but plotted
End

The thunderstorm and the clock and a Beach House song

Time to me
is like a sad melody
putting us in a place we could not reach otherwise
a fleeting imprint of emotion
that will
end

The song is precious
like a gold dust in its impermanent perfection
raising the spirit like a natural act

Yesterday i watched the splendor
of God in a thunderstorm cloud
in the darkness
lightning flash after another
incredible pure energy
caused by the most natural process
on our earth

Just warm air rising

I watched the time on my watch
rotate and felt stagnant
and immutable

Unable to fathom another day like this
a day where I did nothing
and was no better for it at the end
than when I first awoke
a natural process
a rhythm that a needle drags accross
until my melody is over

and I want so bad
for it to be something great
and not a metronome

To see the seemingly chaotic
blasts of light
in my own life
from nothing but warm air
exhaling in
and out

like the inaudible tick
of my watch
rounding out another day

One that begins in pain
and ends in addiction
my addiction to avoidance
to stagnance
to giving up

An hour later the lightning had ceased
but i still looked east
to see if it might
strike once more
for me

A supernatural nod
from nature
to me
letting me know it was ok

But the storm had passed
and I know some day soon
I will too

It seems the only things which are eternal
is the rounding of a clock
and my unexplored
potential

Tuning forks and empty wine glasses

Saying things to say them
is like getting drunk
to throw up
It's all vomit and mess
and the result of going to far
away from yourself

Hiding in excess is despicable
its meaningless
like wandering in a circle
hoping to find a new path

We live in an age full of intelligence
smart beyond our ancestors
arbiters of millenniums
of compounded knowledge
so self aware
so far reaching in our mental scope

So worthy of praise
so enlightened

So void of wisdom
because wisdom cannot be learned
through a browser window
or a professor's word
or pastor's for that matter

Wisdom comes from life
life we seem intent on not living anymroe
because a selfish pursuit
is an empty one
and a crowd of cheering people
is like a row of
empty wine glasses
humming their resonant frequencies
when touched

And is that all we are?
tuning forks
to whatever randomness abounds

A sad arrangement
of instruments without a will
who don't even know
how rigid their lives
will be

A forgetful goodness

Sisters and brothers

come near

witness the birth of

the new Right

the new Good

the new Morality

the brightly colored prism

of a new reality

a new judgementalism

fearful of debate

afraid of

the disagreeable

Proclaimers of reason

doubters of dissidence

A new society

formed in ideal looking forward

forgetting the past

looking on it with the regret of a long 

night and wobbly morning

Once again

drunk on the idea of a new way

filling up 

chugging and chugging

the rhetoric of a confused

pantheistic 

athiestic

but deeply religious society

worshipping many more idols

than the Athenians at Mars Hill

Philosophers 

Epicureans

Stoics

Endlessly streaming consciousness in public forums 

spewing thoughts on each other

until something sticks

This new era is perfect in its own way

moving together as one

gaining momentum

like the Facists in the 30's

we are swept off our feet

by the inherit rightness of our leaders words

Impressed by the prosperity of our minds

blown away by our potential

always thinking forward

never dwelling on any moment for 

very long

This new society has a strong hand

which sweeps swiftly

removing the inharmonious chorus

trimming and pruning

with impunity

unsure of what we are creating

but striving for it

For the ultimate end

for that perfect sunset

for that long night

for that wobbly morning

and for the long nap and medicine that follows

A perfect people

standing on the imperfect lattice 

of old

While the vine of a new morality continues to creep

twisting and branching

like wild ivy

unsure of where it started

covering up 

what doesn't belong.

Roots to china

The tree stump in the desert

has no purpose

but to turn to stone

some day

It's life is over

no longer able to grow

or hope for something better

it mearly sits

decapitated

while the sun bakes it's heart 

And a sun baked heart

is the hardest kind

because

it feels heat and longs for water

but cannot see the day

for which the floods might return

And just like a dead 

petrifying tree stump

I have no mobility

and feel the pressure of 

a life now wasting

in the sun

A once promising life

beaten down

by God's life giving rays

because I am not in a position 

to accept them

No leaves

no branches

no families of birds and bugs 

no rich

cool

dark soil

the kind you would dig your fingernails into

when you were a kid

and you had an idea of what 

life would be like 

and you wrenched your fingers through the dirt

searching for China

and worms

and other things

that made being a child

so much better than now

We hug the cold shoulder

We wont know ourselves
until
we reach that crest
 where the sun hits our eyes
like an arrow with three halos
piercing in intensity
yellow

I thought the light would be different
yet
it wasnt that the light was odd
but I could not fathom what it was

Do you know the feeling
of unknowing?

Of course you do
we all do
we are humans
and humans
do not know much

But we are familiar with
uncertainty
the cold shoulder of the void
is like a comforting fire to our
imagination

We embrace it
not quite like friends
maybe, like a parent
we have a hard time seeing eye to eye
with

I abhor complacency
and adult sensibility
I think nothing exciting comes from it

Sensibility never built anything that stood
the test of time

And yet we fear the illogical
the unreasonable word association
we call it
crazy
schizophrenic
manic

But my God
what is it that we truly love
that isn't a bit crazy?

The wanderer's heart

What worth is there in love
to be cast aside so easily
disguised in a mire of
personal struggle

That happiness can be found
in a break is folly
a fool thinks to himself
that his needs should be put above
others
to help them

Trickle-down familial politics
the worst policy
of an unregulated heart

Who knows the mind
of a pride-less lion
aimless in it's direction
gaunt and hollow
never able to set down
and claim a place for it's own

And if you are in the savannah
it's these lions
you must be most careful of
because they are shifty and unpredictable
dangerous because they
abandoned the decor of being
the king of the jungle

And likewise
a heart without love is unpredictable
and dangerous
hurting indiscriminately
guilty and hardened in it's obstinacy


And so cold
likened unto dead

So again,
What worth is there in love?
when it does not last
when our best intentions are superseded
by our temporary desires

When a family is broken apart
as carelessly as the wind changes direction

The answer is another question

What worth is there without love?

The oath to mediocrity

Why is my life so inconsequential
that 2000 dollars is the difference between life
altering change
and being stuck

That something good can be so consistently tainted
by old things
that cling to me
with mechanical will

Every year the things I wanted
seem dimmer
and further away
frustrating me
with their unreachable coyness
causing my hands to shake


I shake
because
I hate what I am forced to be
the most meaningless tooth
in the most meaningless cog

part of a machine i thought i would latch onto for a while
only to find that i had become stuck
by a shoelace
and now i'm being dragged behind
the choices
which at the time seemed so small
now bound to them
like an oath
to mediocrity

A pledge to un-success

I wish i could go back in time
and focus myself
reorient my priorities

less on relationships
and self deprecation
more on becoming something

though
those things which caused me to fret
6 years ago

have hardly left me.

I see my generation crumbling
under the weight of their dreams
not achieving the lofty ambitions set before us
since we were young
feeling the bleakness
I believe
only a true lost generation can feel

and trust me
we are a lost generation
never living up to our potential
never making our mark

Forced to fill in the gaps
caused by recession
and sometimes
slipping through them

Like a half a cup of water
like a few grains of sand
drawn by gravity
to unremarkable
end

Separation from ambition, pure expression

I feel
Shackled and at the same time
I feel like a figure with
arms stretched wide
albatross
free

Free from the expectations of those who dont know
jailed by those who do

I feel
like a box which rejects no content
free to mix
and collude
together in color
SOUP

I feel like a thousand fire crackers
burning hot
and booming
that perfect blend of light and sound
all around startling

Lingering as a black mark

I want all art to be
merely a black mark
of some beautiful reaction

The soot from energy and feeling
and new neural pathways
being forged

A pioneer of the mind
Free from the religion of
solidity
of reassurance
of tradition
of piety

Like Sampson
crumbling the pillars
with his chained arms
is the final act
of a creative mind

Beautiful
and Godly

Like the big bang
Like anti matter
Like a coral reef

I know the tongue behind their teeth

It took a wedding to realize

that my girlfriend's

parents

will never believe I am anything

worth spending time 

on

They will hug and handshake

and smile

but behind every smile

will be a cloud

of thoughts

those thoughts will be my shortcomings

or their perceptions of them

They will judge me 

against every other guy my age

and maybe against an ideal of themselves

at 26

But they've never really asked me about myself

I realize now

that there are people who will never care to know me

whatever their first surface impression 

of me

was good enough

But it still bothers me

it bothers me that they will speak for 20 minutes 

to an aquaintance and laugh

and engage

But they will never care enough

to ask me about my thoughts

my feelings

I admit

I'm horrible at small talk

and I have been many negative things

and respect is something to be earned

But at night

they would rather walk right past me 

than spend 10 minutes trying to find out something new

as if I am so simple to read

with no complexity

no ideas

no real hopes

To them

I am always just a Used Car salesman

selling my dreams 

To whoever will listen

And sometimes

I worry that I might become a used car salesman

or roofer

or office secretary

If I don't find my place

in life

But i've never lied to them

I don't lie to many people really

nobody wants to know my secrets

my depths

They look at me

like an idiot

they speak to me like a toddler

in entendre's

inserting jabs at every pause

double speaking to my face

as if I am not perceptive enough to figure it out

but I do

I always do 

I am insulted continually

but I can't say anything

Here i can say something

I can say that I think they treat their daughter like an afterthought sometimes

I can say that regardless of the amount of pictures of God

on their walls

I find little evidence of him in the quiet places of their home

I can say that while i will defend them if i think they are right

they wouldnt give me a hand if i was sinking

in a tar pit

they wouldnt give me the time of day

except when I'm expected to leave

they will hurt her to demean me

they will say to me that they care

and wipe their muddy boots 

on my face

they will smile

that goofy toothy smile

with red cheeks

kissed by alcohol

and teary eyes

belying their obvious pain

and whisper in secret

That I am nothing

And for that I will only trust them

when i can see their hands

because I know that they wait

for me to screw up

so they can reveal

their hate

"Lighten up"

they say

"Come into light"

I reply.

The can't feeling

Tearing through a bag

of kettle barbecue chips

with abandon

sad

and angry

all things but myself

all things but thinking the thoughts

i default to

All things to no men

The sky has been all gloom lately

grey and wet

like a soft piece of tofu

nearly inedible

and blank

Like my mind on most days

except to distract myself

job number one

is to forget reality

these days

Some turn to drink

or drug

I eat

I am sad

I feel chained to the swivel chair 

in my office

held in by a two walled

cubicle

My heart

as well

snared

to a job i do not love

But I just

can't

Do you know the feeling?

the can't feeling?

It's just awful

almost every day

its awful

Some call it depression

but I call it

can't

not even cannot

The weather will warm up soon

and i pray that I move on as well

even if it means months

of heat

and smoggy days

I think

Sometimes the smog is more breathable

A Conversation between Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre About Coachella or How Holographic Tupac Came to Be

Setting:

Calvin Broadus Jr. AKA Snoop Dogg AKA Snoop Doggy Dogg AKA Snoop D OH Double Gee and Dr. Dre are sitting in the family room of Dr. Dre's Beverly Hills mansion at 10PM, 3 weeks before their Coachella performance.

Scene:

Snoop Dogg takes a drag on an illicit substance and looks at a platinum record hanging on the wall. That record is the 1995 single California Love.

Snoop Dogg

 Yo Dre.

Dr. Dre

Whattup Dog?

Snoop

Gotta give em what they want.

Dr. Dre

 What's that G?

Snoop

 We gotta break em off somethin'.

Dr. Dre

 Hell yeah.

Snoop

 And it's gotta be bumpin.

Together

 CITY OF COMPTON!

Dr Dre

(Rap Laugh) Haha, good times man.

Snoop

Oh fo sho.

Dr. Dre

You man, though seriously tho, did you want to tell me something?

Snoop

 What ever happened to him?

Dr. Dre

 What do you mean.

Snoop

 I mean Pac. What happened with him?

Dr. Dre

(Somewhat confused) Uhh, what are you serious right now dog?

Snoop

(Takes a hit) Yeah G, I literally mean 'what happened to him'. I feel like it's been years since I seen him around and I was wondering why he wasn't comin to Coachella with us. Fo real tho.

Dr. Dre

Snoop...

Snoop

What.

Dr. Dre

Man, he's dead.

Snoop

Dead? Dead like Interscope or dead like Eazy?

Dr. Dre

Dead like Eazy. Like 187 dead. How did you not know this? We even went to his funeral, you sent flowers to his family.

Snoop

Man I've been to tons of funerals. Remember that time I killed that dude? I even went to his funeral. I'M INNOCENT.

Dr. Dre

You woulda remembered this one dog. (shakes his head) Honestly, remember East vs. West? Suge Knight? Biggie Smalls? People still try to solve the case.

Snoop

...

Dr. Dre

...

Snoop

Man, I think the all the chronic is goin to my head. Especially that real sticky icky, oo wee.

Dr. Dre

Yeah.

Scene:

Snoop doesn't speak for a few minutes. Dr. Dre sits at his mixing console and turns on a tv. Snoop sits up suddenly.

Snoop

What about a hologram?

Dr. Dre

What tha fuck you talking bout?

Snoop

I mean, I know Pac is dead and can't go to Coachella but like, what if not Tupac showed up.

Dr. Dre

Man, I seriously think you have a problem.

Snoop

Hear me out, hear me out. Yesterday, me and my son were watching some wack movie about space or some shit. It was a trilogy like the Godfather movies.

Dr. Dre

Star Wars?

Snoop

Man, I guess. Anyway I wasn't givin a fuck until, this tiny chick appears on the ground and asks for help and I say to my son, yo why is this chick so small? And he said to me, 'dad' thats a hologram she isnt actually there. He said it was like a 3D movie but without the screen.

Dr. Dre

Dude, what does this have to do with Coachella?

Snoop

Remember that song, Unforgettable, where that chick sang with her dad after he died? Well what if we did that with Tupac, but, not for the radio. For peoples eyes.

Dr. Dre

Is that even possible? 

Snoop

That space movie is like 35 years old, shit we gotta have that technology now. Get those scientists who worked on your headphones on it. They ain't doin anything.

Dr. Dre

You know, Snoop?

Snoop

What's that Andre?

Dr. Dre

At first I wasn't sure that what you were saying made any sense. And honestly, after thinking about it a little bit, I'm still not sure that if we could pull it off that it wouldn't seem tacky or maybe even come across like a big joke. It's been a lot of years since Pac died, man. He's meant a lot of things to a lot of people and I wonder if he would even want us to remember him in this way. Would people think we were just cashing in on his fame? Trying to squeeze every last dollar and cent from an artist that has already been wrung dry of all he is worth? Would people think that this is just one more egotistical act of a couple of formerly innovative musicians trying to feign relevance while at the same time showing how out of touch they really are?

Snoop

Man, those people can eat a big fat dick.

Dr Dre

That's what I was thinking too, Snoop. Coachella is gonna be tight as hell.

Snoop

Hell yeah.

Dr Dre

Wanna watch a movie before you go? I got Blade or Scarface, which one?

Snoop

Both.

Dr Dre

Hell yeah.

And that is how the hologram performance of Tupac Shakur came to be part of  2012 Coachella. 

The End