I really don't think I'm good enough to be compared to an author. I lack the polish and varnish that it takes to recognize them as a peer, which is like saying that I am like them. I really can't hype myself up very well. Whenever I try, the words just die as they come from my mouth/brain onto paper. It just doesn't work. I think that I might be a bit more stream of consciousness and a bit morbid. I'll let you decide who I am most like. I really couldn't say.

-does a lot of your work come from personal things or only some of it?

Everything I write comes from personal experiences. Most of it is just from a snippet of my life or what I was feeling at a certain time of day. Sometimes, I just think it sounds nice. . .so I write. It's hard for me to concentrate on one subject and write. Also, I rarely remember the full details of the day, so I can't write about that. Most of the time a certain phrase or feeling is screaming out to me. So, I put it in here. It's just sporadic.

-what is your favorite poem?

I really don't know. I don't really pay attention to poems much, let alone read many of them. To tell you the truth, poetry kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth. There is a song though by a unknown rapper, yes rapper, by the name of Sage Francis. It's called Broken Wings:

"She's a fairy with broken wings. I used to go watch her perform/

And if she hears me...I hope she sings the song/

That had me going right back. I couldn't find anyone in town to talk/

About how no one like that...should be confined to the ground we walk/

She glides so much it seems like she floats and these folks,

Decide to crush her wings until they're permanently broke.

She's ride gusts of wind just by the way she spoke.

She cries, but loves to sing songs of freedom and hope.

On the east side...hustling...discussing things that we quote,

In daily conversation as if we have deep throats.

We choke on our confusion. Not sure if it's a heat stroke of if we need coats.

Trading in our cheap jokes for her C notes.

I see notes being passes so I ask to see what these creeps wrote,

To find silly kids had flying privileges revoked.

Ski slopes have been blocked off. They can't chance it.

Had weights tied to her ankles. She most definitely can't skip

town. Held down by the transcripts my hands grip.

Tried to tie her wings back on before they're once again clipped.

Panic stricken...she'll remain stuck,

on a Titanic sinkin'...and she's trying to stay up.

Changed her plan, think'..."It's ok." See this is strange but

Abraham Lincoln...freed the slaves in a way that kept them locked up

I'd like to see...her take flight into the stars.

Instead of letting her fly free...they keep her in jars.

Instead of letting 'em fly free...they keep 'em in jars.

I'd put my hand to the glass so hard that it might break the prison bars.

It isn't hard to see why they keep her captive.

She's naturally attractive. Speaks with ad-libs. She's uncommonly talented.

There ain't enough adjectives to do her disposition justice.

Kids are wishing for just a kiss and it's a mission to touch her lips.

They can't trust her with...freedom of movement. That's a chance to lose her quick,

If she ups and splits...so you might as well call that discussion quits.

They have ways to keep her down. The Governments underlings

Enslave people in this town, especially if their culture's rich.

Exploiting talents. Making her do a bunch of tricks,

With the rest of the wingless imports repeatedly told, "You ain't a fairy...you just a bitch..

with a butt that's thick

so rub your tits

and thrust your hips

and suck my dick

and run your shit

and run your shit

and run your shit

She's a fairy with broken wings. I used to go watch her perform/

And if she hears me...I hope she sings the song/

That had me going right back. I couldn't find anyone in town to talk/

About how no one like that...should be confined...

When I was down in New York she's send me letters and I read her passages,

About how I left her to the savages.

No matter how sad that is...I didn't cry,

Because it was only a matter of time before they'd figure me out and try to strip my pride.

I knew the scoop. I wish she could've seen the blueprints in my eye,

When I flew the coup, utilizing over ground railroads in the sky.

It was live or die. Let me let you in on this secret of mine.

Me and you are different, girl...we don't need wings to fly.

Keep on singing."

I would have to say that's my favorite "poem".

-are you afraid of death?

I was a long time ago, I don't remember when. I remember not wanting anyone to die and how horrible it would be. Now, it just seems like the fear has turned into a curiosity. I can't explain it really. I lay down and think. What would it be? Is it like a movie? A sickening movie that always has a happy ending and will never stop? Will it be whatever I want it to be? Or will it just be what everyone says. The darkness of oblivion wrapped around you like a blanket. No senses, no words, no thoughts, nothing. Nothingness. It would be peaceful I imagine. . if you could realize the piece with no thoughts. It's all relative anyway.

-have you ever been in love?

Once, I have. I was so in love that it hurt. It was so much love and it felt so good that when it left. I felt pain that I could never describe. It still hurts when I look back. The human brain makes me remember only the bad things, but the thing is. . there was no bad. When I was with her, I was wrapped in a blanket of warmth and love that I never felt before. I was addicted to it. I always will be, and that addiction makes me think every night when I go to bed. . .why couldn't I win? Why couldn't I be the one that was wrapped in that blanket? Why didn't it say? Why didn't she stay? Why did she leave? What could I have done? What if I couldn't have done anything? The cut is deep, and I'm not naive enough to think that time will heal it. It will always hurt, and I don't think anyone can fill that gap. It has been a while since I've experienced that love, and I've tried to replace it. Everyone, everything, seems to be a photocopy of itself when I'm not around her. Life was so much sweeter. Now, all I see is more bitterness than I did before. She caught me off guard. . .and when I fell out of that love a part of me died, and it will never come back.

-what do you like on your pizza?

Nothing really fancy. Someone told me once that cheese pizza is the best thing to have after sex and fuck cigarettes. I tend to agree. It may not be field tested, but I agree.

-if you could have been born in any other time/place, what would it have been?

I don't know what it would have been. I wanted to be born in feudal Japan. I love the culture and the traditions of that time. I actually thought of becoming a Asian Studies major just to get closer to it. I feel that the code back then is something that should be followed today. Honor, benevolence, etc. It's something I think I could hold standards in. . if I don't already.

-what's something that you've never told anyone before?

I have never told someone everything about myself. I never trusted anyone enough to let them truly inside me. Sharing the childhood memories, baby pictures, old stories. It seemed irrelevant, and the one time I did want to share my entire being with someone. . . it was ripped away before I could express myself. Pity. . .

-what do you live for?

It might sound dull, morbid, and popular, but here it goes. I live for other people's happiness and their way. I know you probably don't think that's a good way to live, but I really think I'm living on borrowed time. The only reason why I am not dead is because people would care that I died. They would be hurt and knowing that I hurt them like that would damn me eternally. I can not stand for it. It would tear me apart.

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If any one else would like to ask me some questions. . just look at the previous entry. The rules are posted there. I just wanted to get these out and off my chest.

Too many things have forced them into the light.

. . .And all I can do is write. . .

It's not easy being green.