It has been reported...

It has been reported that some victims of torture, during the act, would retreat into a fantasy world from which they could not WAKE UP. In this catatonic state, the victim lived in a world just like their normal one, except they weren’t being tortured. The only way that they realized they needed to WAKE UP was a note they found in their fantasy world. It would tell them about their condition, and tell them to WAKE UP.
Even then, it would often take months until they were ready to discard their fantasy world and PLEASE WAKE UP


xposted from John Yadollahi on mySpace

the coast

i feel as though i haven't been at home in forever. i know that i have-- i've been home pretty recently, as a matter of fact-- but i can't shake this feeling. sometimes i just can't stand to be away from home. it kills me. i don't care what we do here because i'd rather be home. it isn't that i don't like the places we go, i guess i should, but i can't help feeling like i'm missing something by not being home. like i'm missing something in me.


could've done with a fucking day trip.

i hadn't had La Costa

for like a week and a half until today. that's a long time, i usually go at least once a day... at least. sometimes i go twice. if i'm working on the cars with my dad and making AutoZone/Kragen trips it could even hit 5 trips, a taco each visit.

anways, i got my usual. un taco pastor y un taco pollo con todos. i got it to go though... i just didn't feel like eating there for whatever reason. he put the extra lime he already knew i'd ask for in my styrofoam container and i went on my way.

i'm not in the mood for anything. at all.



i redid my oral interpretation of Here Am I in speech today. i did better, but i got the same score. this might confuse you, but never-fucking-fear, i'm here to save the day!

you see, the first time i gave it i had 5 points of extra credit added onto my score because i gave the interpretation the day before to have it critiqued. it bumped my original 84 to an 89. today i regave my speech and picked up 5 points in various locales of the rubric, but i didn't have the extra credit so i ended up with an 89 again. fuckin' hell, eh?

i mean it's alright i guess because i like reading the piece and it isn't one of those things to just bust out with. gave me an excuse, i guess. i really need these A's, though, 'cause i gave chem the bird. chem can suck it.

is it narcissistic

to sometimes think about how my life would work in a movie?

it's times like this as i eat green bell peppers and drink orange sport drinks after a fucking stutter-fest out of my anxious fucking self that i can picture in my head on the silver screen. sounds like some shitty indie flick that i'd watch.

i just read someone's story

about their dog Rusty. and putting him to sleep.

and it made me think of putting my old dog to sleep last year. hardest thing i have ever done... and i've talked about it before but i don't recall moving my hands up the other times to find a wet face.

some days i want it all

i want the fancy cars, the custom suits, the italian leather shoes, the swiss watch. those are the days i drift off and dream.






most days i just want something cold to drink and to take a good, solid piss outdoors.

here am i

we all wanted that highschool sweetheart.
we wanted to be young in the 50's with meatloafs and sockhops and lawns...
lawns so perfect they looked like clark gable was kissing them.
we wanted to be thirteen and alive and meet a girl that was thirteen and alive,
and walk with her past the grandstands.
to sit and hold hands with, to sit and kiss with, to sit and sit with like it was something you would miss
but that... never was.

we once went to bed like between the bedsheets was a valley with dinosaurs still breathing.
and how we would catch these triceratops, and bronosaurases,
but even they were opened up with the smoke that rose from the homes on the corners
of the streets we once climbed through.
the streets and the footballs of which we once threw,
desks upon we once drew, windows set open through which we once flew
before the outside world of parking spaces and dead friends came flooding on in
and we forgot what we wanted, and we became what we've become.

waitresses and bartenders. city employees and temp positions,
we are junkies, and one kiss poems, and we cry the stars.
as we write our scars onto dumpsters and electric boxes
because the only thing that we can hear is our hearts,
and the only ones listening are the streets,
through the blood that bleeds, through the letters we leave
and we dream to rise ourselves up out of these burning buildings
but instead we get buried somewhere beneath.

'cause i know my life... it's like some highschool kid's notebook.
a highschool kid that shuffles back and forth between school and home,
stacking the letters and the pictures too close for anyone outside of his own imagination to read
because its through the ink that his heart beats, that his heart breathes, and we all just wanted to write these notes.
check if you like me, check if you don't, check if you'll date me, check if you won't

because we all wanted the love songs to be true,
and we did love dinosaurs once, and we wanted the stars
to hold our hands, to lick the teeth,
to fuck us, but they ending up fucking us, so...

let your smile twist, like my heart
dancing precariously on the edge of my fingertips, staining them like that same highschool kid
licking his thoughts using his sharpie tip writing
"i was here. i was here, motherfucker. and ain't none of y'all can write that in the spot that i just wrote it in."
i'm here motherfucker, and we all hear, motherfucker, and we're all motherfuckers, motherfucker
because every breath i give brings me a second closer to the day that my mother my die,
because every breath i take takes me a second further from the day she caught my father's eye
because every word i carry is another stone to put into place in the foundation i'm building
because these days it's a race for something i never saw,

what all of us wanted and none of us got,
what we all had and have and we all forgot,
that we all wanted to be something, that we all became something,
and it might not be the shit you once thought it'd be when we were kids
but something is still something, and like some cats say somethings better than nothin.
feet are smarter than an engine and dreams are stronger than thighs,
and questions are the only answers we need to have to know that we're alive in a time when i have a mind of a child
asking

"why is two plus three always equal to five
where do people go to when they die
what made the beauty of the moon and the beauty of the sea?
did that beauty make you? did that beauty make me?
will that make me something? will i be something? am i something?
and the answer comes;

already am, always was, and i still have time to be.

"I like where we're at right now.

Friends and no pressures"

direct order

you've been given a direct order to rock the fuck out.
rock out like you were just given the last rock and roll record on earth and the minutes are counting down to flames.
rock out like you just won both showcase showdowns
rock out like the streets are empty except for you, your bicycle, and your headphones.
rock out like your lips were just placed on a breakdancing muse with legs that go all the way up
rock out like Publisher's Clearing House is ringing at your front door
rock out like you'll never have to open up a textbook again
rock out like you get paid to disturb the peace
rock out like music is all that you got
rock out like you are standing on a rooftop in a city as loud and glowing as the river flowing beneath you
rock out like your plane is going down and there are one hundred twenty people on board and one hundred twenty one parachutes
rock out like the streets and the books are on fire and the flames can only be extinguished by doing the electric slide
rock out like it's Sunday afternoon and Monday is a national holiday
rock out like someone has a barrel pointed to your temple saying "rock out like your life depended on it, fool, because it does"
rock out like your eyes are fading, but you still got your ears, but you don't know for how long so
rock out like it's 5 o'clock time? make it pop n'lock time
rock out like you got pants full of tokens and nothing to do but everything
rock out like you are the international skee-ball champion of the entire universe
rock out like you just escaped an evil orphanage to join a Russian circus
rock out like your hero has fallen and you're spinning your limbs until they burst into a burning pyre of remembrance
rock out like you are enslaved in the south and dancing is all that you have to know who you are
rock out like your dead grandfather just came back to take a ride with you in your brand new car
rock out like the table was full
rock out like the neighbors are away
rock out like the walls won't fall but damnit, you're going to die trying to make them
rock out like the stereo's volume knob only has the figure-eight of infinity on it instead of merely numbers
rock out like its raining outside and you got a girl to run through it with
rock out like you're playing football, football in the mud, and your washing machine is not broken
rock out like you threw your window open on your honeymoon because you want the whole world to know what love is
rock out like you just got a book published
rock out like you just went to your highschool reunion and found that everyone, even the women, are overwight and bald except the former homecoming queen who has just been divorced by her impotent husband and only has eyes for... you.
rock out like you got a date with Heidi Klum
rock out like the shadow of a man passes behind you, drops you to your knees buckling in a sweat, cold metal pushed to your forehead, the trigger is pulled and the gun jams.
rock out like you got an empty appointment book and a full tank of gas
rock out like Jimi has returned, carrying brand new guitar strings
rock out like the mangoes are in season
rock out like the record player won't skip
rock out like this was the last weekend, like these were the last words, like you don't ever want to forget how.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znIXyFh6dsI

i don't drink fight or fuck

but these days, quentin, it's only 2 out of those 3 that i don't do. and these days i dream of driving sixty, praying to hit children so that they may stay forever angels, and may stay forever full of crayons and outstretched limbs trying to pick up way too much, way too fast, forgetting what it means to be a person. here in a world where beliefs are like naps, you leave them behind when somebody touches you

-Anis Mojgani