It could happen to you

landongrantham@gmail.com — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 07:45:19 GMT

is this (cyber)space?
why are you miserable.
existance
and we
exist to move and we do!
how can this be right?
if you lie?
one shoulder across my chest in this chair
you will saturate.
become one with the dust in the air
you are not miserable?
at dawn every dawn I feel my heart pulse strong
at dawn every dawn I torture myself with fear

landongrantham@gmail.com — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 21:43:03 GMT

I am ridiculous and have so much to learn about the world.

landongrantham@gmail.com — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 20:23:45 GMT

holla?

landongrantham@gmail.com — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 05:41:14 GMT

sometimes(always) my keyboardmousejoystickbutton is stuck, it is stuck now.

9

landongrantham@gmail.com — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 09:05:25 GMT

to watch my paintbody explode to watch my paintblood paintstain the sand my paintsand
blow mix east wind watch dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead

the desert is not clean.

3H w/frequent streaks of 9B wish it was 10B for fear of charcoal

landongrantham@gmail.com — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 18:38:35 GMT

I forget livejournal.
more often than
I remember livejournal.

I was asked if I wanted to load my previous livejournal post from drafts, to which I replied "yes".
This was 39 minutes ago, this post was not loaded from drafts.

I watched a dog eat a cat sometime around 8:30 AM.
This was 3 weeks ago, there have been no cat sightings since.

landongrantham@gmail.com — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 20:56:12 GMT

you have to wait for you to grow!

a short (mostly) fictional (dia/mono/dia)log(ue)

landongrantham@gmail.com — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 00:13:17 GMT

"What if it's watching us?" Max asked.

"It's facing away from us, and I haven't seen it turn its head once. Even with birds-eye vision--"

"No, no, I mean, what if it's not really a bird. Think about it- have you noticed that every intersection on this road has a red-light camera mounted a different way? They're testing. They're trying figure out which method can see the most cars."

"I'm not sure how many license plates you can read from up there."

"It must be a good angle. The height doesn't matter; you can see two miles away with dollar-store binoculars, these days."

I looked away from the apartments across the street and thought about who they might be, and about why they would even want to read my license plate. They must be the people who own the roads, and they must need to monitor the cars that ride on their roads. The cars, not the people- they’re not videotaping faces. There must be a database in their system titled The Cars Which Ride Our Roads, filled with thousands of license plate numbers. There must be hundreds of employees to enter the data, unless, of course, they omit duplicate entries. The database would then be titled The Cars Which Have Ridden Our Roads, with maybe fifteen employees who check the daily lists for new numbers. They must separate this database into sub-databases for analytical purposes, something like The Cars Which Have Ridden Our Roads Rightly and The Cars Which Have Ridden Our Roads Wrongly, separating the cars which did or did not violate the roads’ regulations. They must go further than this, something like The Cars Which Have Ridden Our Roads Wrongly Requiring Reprimand, being those whose owners will receive citations, or The Cars Which Have Ridden Our Roads Rightly Receiving Reward, to which the owners will be offered “Safe Driver” on their licenses.

"How did they install it without us noticing?" I asked.

"They didn’t have to. It flew here."

I wonder if I’m in one of their databases. I ride a bicycle.

landongrantham@gmail.com — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 21:00:01 GMT

"The possibility that we are living in a false vacuum has never been a cheering one to contemplate. Vacuum decay is the ultimate ecological catastrophe; in the new vacuum there are new constants of nature; after vacuum decay, not only is life as we know it impossible, so is chemistry as we know it. However, one could always draw stoic comfort from the possibility that perhaps in the course of time the new vacuum would sustain, if not life as we know it, at least some structures capable of knowing joy. This possibility has now been eliminated.

The second special case ... applies if we are now living in the debris of a false vacuum ... This case presents us with less interesting physics and with fewer occasions for rhetorical excess than the preceding one."

S. Coleman and F. De Luccia (1980). "Gravitational effects on and of vacuum decay". Physical Review D21: 3305.

strange

landongrantham@gmail.com — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 02:21:58 GMT

"I have the coolest brother there is and a Best friend named Shelley. I think you are defined by who you associate with. You want to know me, you need to meet them."

the difficulty is that I really want to know them, so I am franticly trying to meet those who define them, but he won't let me get any closer, and I can't help but think that I'm not the person I used to be

Cabernet

landongrantham@gmail.com — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 07:34:27 GMT

Daredevil commons haunt
my days
and dazed with clouds
of vapor and ice
cream of wheat
or weat or wheat
It's all the same
to me.
This isn't poetry, it's bullshit
and you know it.
wine and sulfites
slow my mind and
synapse filled gaps
with sins and subs
and BLTs at 2:00 AM
spontaneity and nostalgia
and friends I barely know

And to me, a good night!

landongrantham@gmail.com — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 03:59:48 GMT

Wouldn't it be beautiful to have somebody you could think with instead of talk with? To transcend that intermediate process of forming your thoughts into sounds, forming the words in your throat and mouth, watching the meaning behind the sounds dissipating in the air as the molecules vibrate emptiness into the ears of your companion who never sees the lost energy and form of your thoughts? Two minds, linked in energy and synapse, a mesh of thoughts, interconnected and interacting as if thinking the word of God? There's an analogy as example, the letters, the words, the pen, the ink, the sight, the recognition, the chain of impulses, the schema, the loss?

Exercise in Dialectic

landongrantham@gmail.com — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 03:55:40 GMT

LANDON: "I think I would write better on scrolls of indefinite length."

LANDON: "I think you would write better if you wrote better."

LANDON: "I can't argue with that."

Fields of study I find interest in

landongrantham@gmail.com — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 03:49:25 GMT

in order of recollection? No, that's not right... I don't like the phrase "in no particular oder". Every list has an order: every random has a reason. To completely randomize? It cannot be done.

1. Random Numbers (and everything.)

Descending from the top of my mind? What the hell am I saying? ...

2. Epistomology
3. The science of memory and retention.
4. The root of the desire to study, to learn, to think, and the root of the desire to stop all thought.
5. Vision

What does it mean to see? There's something there, which hides from me, out of my line of sight (hah!).

6. Humor? (get it?)
7. Poetry (no, I don't get it.)
9. Space. (How can we distinguish? How can we ignore anything, write it off as un-related? How can I focus my study to a finite number of fields? I'm running out of time.)
10. Geometry. Shapes. Visual art.
11. Realization of Visualization of thoughts (through any medium, particularly three-dimensional painting and music (noise)).
12. Synthesizing (sp!) of music, language, and communication.
13. The science of memorization and retention.
14. Ink and color.
15. Color and colour.
16. Paint.
17. Mad Lib, apparently.
18. Beauty in mind and body; beauty through unconventional methods in societies today. My idea of beauty.

(concept)

My concept of beauty is the only, true beauty. Beauty is not transient; something beautiful, rather someONE, can change forms, without ever losing the beauty it had once.

19. Time consciousness. (Phenomenoligicaly (word?)). (recent; brief, without follow-through)
20. Recording my thoughts (through any medium) at the rate they flow, or manifest themselves, I can't keep up and it makes me feel that I will always lose this battle, and nobody will ever see my true beauty. ISN'T THAT WHAT BEAUTY IS ALL ALONG?

Of course, it is.

Poe and Max: Imitaded Ideas

landongrantham@gmail.com — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 03:32:03 GMT

How strange is it that our ears detect not sound,
but vibrations in the fluid that fills the canals
which connect all beings, in one way out of five
from the lives we perceive to the reality of life?

landongrantham@gmail.com — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 17:30:58 GMT

www.purevolume.com/landongrantham

More alive than ever before.

landongrantham@gmail.com — Fri, 29 Sep 2006 00:47:06 GMT

one night we lay beside each other, so close to a sweat
with two fans circling overhead, we sleep on borrowed time
and the traffic lights direct empty roads, the stars can't break the city sky
but they still try despite what they know is already true
and tomorrow we'll take aim, just like a storm waiting for a calm
i can feel everything coming in my chest, my heart's already pounding
my head's on far-off highways, sixteen years old, on a road that never ends
might drive into something that looks like a sunset, and it lasts forever,
and i never look back

from hoboken to l.a.
from portland to gainesville
from the great plains to niagara
route 66 straight to california
electric lights carry the night
we move in 4/4 time
our feet on wheels and in the sky
yes we're going cause we'd die if we stayed here
and those dying dreams will carry what's good, and real, and pure
and the rest can burn in hell
and for the four-year-old girl found dead in a dumpster
shot by her mother, her eulogy,
the sound of construction through head-to-head traffic
today is just another day.
and me and my friends are just growing into the drunks
and the liars that we've always hated

every shortcoming has trapped us, every mistake is now our own infinite failure
so we steal every chance we get
every advantage is taken when no one's looking
we hide behind closed doors, and we don't stop until
we are the people we've decided we should be
i wanna be a shot heard round the world, fucking unstoppable
this distance is not something we'll regret
from here, and now, and today, and forever, and days after that till the very end

landongrantham@gmail.com — Mon, 07 Aug 2006 19:03:55 GMT

Titusville until the 10th.

landongrantham@gmail.com — Mon, 07 Aug 2006 04:47:06 GMT

All first person writings are autobiographical.

landongrantham@gmail.com — Fri, 04 Aug 2006 03:25:14 GMT

My life began, today
My fear of death, guides me on my way
My faith in god, that never was
Still doesn't breathe

I need a job, to spend
Money that is never mine, to buy what I don't need
I'll waste it all, to alter your
Reality

You'll call me names and judge
Based on the chemicals I take, tell me that my perceptions are fake
That my pleasure is drug induced
That may be

Why do we fear what we don't understand?
Why do we question all that we can't see?
Why do we seperate heaven from hell?
Why can't I accept that you're the same as me?

Just like you I do what makes me feel alive
Evicts that lonely bleeding heart we all share inside
That desire to destroy emotions, stop going through
Your daily motions and end all your fucking commotion
And just love and live and love your life

Why do we fear what we don't understand?
Why do we question all that we can't see?
Why do we seperate heaven from hell?
Why can't I accept that you're the same as me?

Why do we fear what we don't understand?
Why do we question all that we can't see?
Why do we seperate heaven from hell?
Why can't I accept that you're the same as me?

landongrantham@gmail.com — Fri, 04 Aug 2006 03:20:18 GMT

I never thought, that I could be
Yet here I am, addicted as ever
Physical this time, what I secretly feared
And desired from the start

The shear stress on my veins
Stretching them apart, at alarming rates
Kills me slowly and obviously
I pray to a God, I don't believe in
That I will die before I wake

I've never been so afraid of death before
Or losing the only ones I love
I know I would kill to save my own life
I would kill myself to save my wife

It's time to stop waiting and open my eyes
To the inspiration that saturates my world

There's a widow, inside of me
Mourning the loss of what always could have been
I need guidance, and direction
To create the art that moves

Structure and composition are dwarfed in
The importance of lyrical genius
This fear is what keeps me alive,
Fear of death, fear of failure, scolding and shun

It's time to stop waiting and open my eyes
To the inspiration that saturates my world

This one's for me.

landongrantham@gmail.com — Fri, 04 Aug 2006 03:03:35 GMT

They are more afraid of me than I am of them. They understand that congress is not where change really happens. Checks and balances is the foundation of the status quo. Countries are the rocks and we are the water, shaping them towards that primal sphere: man's perfection. We move as one body over the river bed. I'm not asking for riots and anarchy, I'm asking for change and diversity. I'm asking for one voice to lead a revolution. I'm done asking, done waiting for that brave soul. I realize now that they are more afraid of me than I am of them. They are terrified of every one of us and every thoguht we think and ever idea we hold. I can't believe it took me this long to understand that the future has already begun.

landongrantham@gmail.com — Fri, 04 Aug 2006 02:57:12 GMT

I'm not looking to impress with this osng
I don't really give a fuck if any of you sing along
In fact if I were in your shoes
I'm sure I'd walk out on me

No lines were ever written to move
Not the real ones, I should clarify
The emotion we all love to hear
The tears were never yours

The fists that fly through the air and the lungs that bleed
Blood on the microphone, this always leaves
A feeling so bittersweet as I remember
These words aren't sung for me

As I scream with all of my life my voice goes out
I climb on top of the crowd, so they can see
That I know every fucking note to the solo
And have no confidence in myself

I've always understood that the true heroes
Are the ones who don't know how to save a soul
The people who's names nobody knows
Save my life

The fists that fly through the air and the lungs that bleed
Blood on the microphone, this always leaves
A feeling so bittersweet as I remember
These words aren't sung for me

As I scream with all of my life my voice goes out
I climb on top of the crowd, so they can see
That I know every fucking note to the solo
And have no confidence in myself

landongrantham@gmail.com — Sun, 30 Jul 2006 21:47:55 GMT

Designing machines that make batteries for battery makers isn't my ideal way of changing people for the better. I don't even design the machines, really. None of us really design anything anymore, nobody thinks independent thoughts, myself included: it's all a matter of who stands up and claims the thought first, it doesn't belong to you or me or anybody. It's not the music that changes people for the better or help them see the light whatever that light might be, I'm not sure myself even when I strive for it keeping myself up at night. It's not the notes, it's not the chords, it's not the rythym that catalyzes or even knows how to spell it's own name, it's not the words the lyrics the hook the verse the bridge, it's the emotion. It's that intangible untouchable unexplainable emotion that I stive for because I know it's not real. It's never mine, and never yours: only when it's mine or when it's yours is it anything at all. I realize now that the only thing that you will never let you down is the only thing that you can't count on to begin with. I can't depend on myself anymore, I have to lean on the crutch that is individual to myself, my ideals of a better person. I have these crazy dreams to create and to share my creations with others and move them with my ideas and my emotion and my love and my destruction, and that is where I will always fail. The only person I can really change is myself. I'm trying at the top of my lungs to portry and idea that I never understood before and the only thing that I know how to do perfectly is die.

I will be the first to admit that I do not know enough about government or politics to make an informed decision about our Commander in Chief. I do realize that there will never be a country who's leader is supported unanimously and that there will always be decisions which are not agreed with regardless of whether they are right or wrong or religiously motivated or violent or scandelous and that there will always be somebody else who could do the job better. Everybody who doesnt follow or respect would do this and do that and be a better ruler for the country because one mind is smarter than six billion minds and it's common knowledge that my opinion on how the America should be run or which wars should be fought and how they should be excecuted is better than yours, it's better than yours. The laws that I would enforce would make every person happy and if they're not happy with my laws than they are unpatriotic and have no real political knowledge or know what freedom really means. At least those who are completely apathetic about the government in general realize that the government has no real effect on their lives and the only people that it bothers are those who can't sleep at night because the majority of the voting population allowed George Walker Bush to fill the illusion of the one man who controls our lives. At least those who think that the government shouldn't take any taxes out of our paychecks realize that if taxes weren't payed that we would all be happier richer people. It's my money! It's my facade! It's my time for fucks sake! Why are you paying me for my time? Why are you paying me for my skills and my tallents and my knowledge and my jump shot and my looks and my self-awareness why are you paying me why are you paying me I don't want your money! I want your body, I want your music, I want your clothes, I want your knowledge and your compainionship and your protection and your security and your freedom but I don't want your God damned money! I want your God.

I don't want your God.

I will be the first to admit that I do not know about life to make an informed decision about my life. Can you belive I acutally think that I you really alive?

I believe that every person that I have met has shaped me into who I am right now, which is a much different person than I am typing this, or when I'm done typing this, or when I realized that I never really typed this and you never really read this and I'm still working out the details on how you shaped my life when you exist only in my mind which had to be shaped to begin with to even recognize your existance. I'm still working out the details on why I want to forget and why I want to escape, or why I want to see things in a twisted, distorted perception that I only achieve through drugs and self-inflicted pleasure. I'm still working out the details on why I would sacrifice so much to have a less than one minute onset followed by twenty to thirty minutes peak where everything finally makes sense and I understand why I'm here and why I've done the things that I've done and why I've hurt every person I've come in contact with, some more than others, why I have constant impure thoughts why I have thoughts of death and dying of plesaure and ecstacy thoughts of power and money and posession and posessing you in more ways than one and abusing you (out of love, you know that, dear), and everything makes sense and I understand why I'm working to pay rent and working to pay for me and working to pay for you and working in case a friend needs to borrow money or if my family needs help or if I call up a vendor who accepts cash not change with no taxes payed on this transaction and I finally understand why I have thoughts of sleep and thoughts of exercise and swimming and flying and rolling and thoughts of fucking you and killing innocent people to keep you safe and thoughts of changing the world and writing this bullshit (this is all bullshit) for twenty to thirty minutes of peak followed by five to ten minutes of that coming down phase where we all ultimately crash hard and remember how fucked up we all are and I remember how fucked up I am and I remember that people aren't born good and I remember that I was not born good and that I am not a good person and I remember that I have to go to work to tomorrow and I remember that I feel pain again and that I am perfectly imperfect just like you and I remember that I can taste again and I don't like it and I remember that I'm throwing away my third pack today and I remember that you love me and it all goes away.

I still crave that zenith and have no regrets.

[sic]

landongrantham@gmail.com — Fri, 02 Jun 2006 01:55:42 GMT

I'm sleepy, and irritable. But I'm happy.