throw water on it

i'm hiding from this town in this town and everybody keeps saying your name these walls are closing every time they talk

get wise, listen to your friends

"i think

maybe

good people have nothing to do with anything"

pKa -10

when i was twelve years old i had these warts on the bottom of my foot. i tried duct tape, homeopathic remedies, the works, and they wouldn't go away. i let a doctor try to freeze them off with liquid nitrogen but a year of cryotherapy didn't get rid of them. finally, they were so fucking obnoxious that i let this doctor cut them off with a scalpel after sticking 10 needles into the bottom of my foot. after 2 weeks of not being able to walk or sleep because of the nerve damage done, the doctor lamented to tell me the warts were coming back. FUCK!!! so i said, fuck this doctor, he's no good, i'm going to try something else. i went to another doctor that a friend recommended, and he tried to burn the warts off with some extremely concentrated acid. one day the doctor used too much acid and it dripped down the side of my foot all the way to the front leaving a 2nd degree burn and an 8 inch scar on my right tootsy. so i said FUCK THIS, fuck these doctors, i have to get rid of this shit myself and i went to the pharmacy, bought the strongest o.t.c. acid i could find, and nuked the shit out of the devils on the bottom of my foot everyday for almost two months. i couldn't walk sometimes, i couldn't sleep sometimes, bits of previously applied acid would frequently meet with a nerve ending sending excruciating pain up my leg and straight to my brain, and i didn't care how bad it hurt as long as those fucking warts wouldn't come back. my mom always felt bad for me because i was limping, but i told her it was no big deal, that i was temporarily engaged in chemical warfare with a nasty virus but i was positive i would win. well, now its been over 10 years, i still have the scars on the top and bottom of my foot to show for my victory and suddenly i realize that certain people in my life have become like these warts and other nastier people are the acid, and if it wasn't for their repetitive causticity i might still be screwing the warts.

dope

Jim Morrison was born in Melbourne, Florida.

noise

how does a mother feel when the world is cruel to her son?

dear john

your message made my day. also, i am looking for freedom, ethics, and the little prince, do they have those out west? i'd like to stay out there with you.

slander

you shout about morals but where are your ethics man?

chamomile pines

everyones off flying solo through mangroves and mountains sending messages back home. the doers the chasers the dreamers, the ones who get excited, beaming with elation and wonder, they are so alive abandoning chains and committing to spontaneity. i find solace in their freedom and chastity links their success in an unlikely way; happy, peaceful, pioneers, reliable, adventurous, well-read and untame, they are the one-way ticket youth.

another one

bicycle letters

my friend likes to amuse me by sneaking pugs into bicycle rack designs spelling kurt vonnegut quotes. he's my adventure buddy.

let me emphasize

"I die a Queen but would rather have died the wife of Culpepper"

-Katherine Howard

found a match to light the fuse

this old flame is beginning to burn when i listen to bon iver and bee hives separating myself from things past i'm interested in rekindling a romance that won't leave me with empty hands, black and white will lace my fingertips pulling melodies out of the universe bringing me to the pinnacle of evolution expression emotion something that i never gave up because you couldn't possibly understand with such a cold heart the ecstasy dripping from each note. now i feel closer to who i was and who i will become with the help of metal strings, a metronome and a boy that can sing. floating through fields of red poppy flowers and lavender breeze where the clouds admire the earth they swing low almost within reach the words scroll through my head and commit to memory replacing far less lovely things. this seed i once sowed is now ready to grow carrying a familiar tune of excitement for original sounds that paint images of new dreams. absence makes the heart grow fonder i miss my music box and i'm grateful to be consumed by something finally worth my time.

benedict

adding insult to injury

how can you sleep?

cinderella

why didn't you pick up my bags?

possibly maybe...probably, no

I keep wondering when my luck is going to run out, now I love the tune of this new company but its something almost too familiar that makes me weary and makes me want you that much more and somehow I think you might be the only person in this world that could possibly know yet I hardly know you. i keep telling myself that this time I am older and I won't be as careless. everything becomes more and more tenuous as we grow older and as we move our separate ways how are people supposed to come together? yet somehow I met you amongst fountains and monuments and my godmother tells me there are no coincidences and I desperately want to believe her because then maybe we could both sleep peacefully or I could stay awake and keep you company through your insomnia and you could wait for me to come home. I can't believe you are so amused by my most ridiculous indulgences or that I actually believe any of this is a possibility. I am wildly optimistic constantly finding myself in trouble when things come crashing down like they were always meant to.

you say gravity is heavier in this city but maybe it was gravity that brought me here...

jenga

how can you lament the loss of something that was never yours?

this time

climbing through castles thousands of miles away thousands of years old without regard for the floating straw from across the ocean that broke the camels back. because the camel doesnt give a shit anymore and he'd rather be broken than fighting sandstorms for someone else who's too weak to cross the desert on their own.

romance has new meaning in an old country. i'm loving the final words of King Henry VIII's fifth wife, Katherine Howard, upon the scaffold..."I die a Queen, but I would rather have died the wife of Culpepper."

down the valley

I met you on the Summit County bus, as I walked towards the back I caught my first glimpse of your western boots and dark brown hair and I all but lost my breath. you sat back deep in your thoughts as I carried on a shallow conversation over the phone I was so embarrassed, you embodied my ideal of hip, you screamed sexy in tones I had never heard before and I found myself instantly wondering what you were thinking while completely aware of my homely appearance. I turned around to ask if you knew where my stop was and you had no idea, you were a traveler just like me and to be honest I didn’t care if you told me get off in Dillon because I only asked to hear the pitch of your voice. You wore dark sunglasses like Elvis Costello but I was lucky enough to catch a glance from your piercing almond eyes before you hid them behind black curtains. I moved to the front of the bus to ask the bus driver where I should get off yet I could not help but look back as I watched you indulge a child and ask him his age (he held up four fingers) and whether he would ski or snowboard (he said ski). you cracked a subtle smile of amusement laced with mystery more intoxicating than cocaine soon I tried to guess the contents of the bag you carried and I gathered it held an adventurous melody with a chip of apathy and a grain of sorrow. I lament that before I could devise a clever plot to make you fall in love with me the bus slowed down and the driver hollered the name of my stop. so long handsome traveler…

coffee rinds

taste bitter but make the soil fertile and the trees grow.

i'm sitting in starbucks, a place i avoid because i can't afford a 4 dollar hot chocolate but i've found my way in nevertheless at the bottom of the hill and i'm staring at piles and piles of white snow, contemplating capital letters and fortune cookies. i envy the lion for its ability to roar and scare the shit out of everything in its way and i need more than a prayer and a shot of whiskey to purge me of days past. things become more interesting when i hear nina simone sing lilac wine over the speakers at starbucks and i start to think that everything can be made cheap and commercial and that nothing stands for anything except for a mother's love. the sun just fell behind the arapahoe courtyard giving mercy to the snow until it rises again tomorrow to melt its perfect crystalline structure. have you ever looked at a snowflake? it is the tiniest fleeting miracle i have ever seen and far more charming than a drop of rain. i'm living a fairy tale and i keep letting in monsters that fuck it up, but they have something i want, like music or books or love so i put up with their terrible manners.

My friend writes well

Joe Goosey