42

WORLD SICK

It took us all day and night, but by the end of that black night and into this blue morning we found it. Oh, we found it! We found it, and none of us thought it was possible except for you. You had enough lion ruffled main roaring energy to pack the several laughing individuals around you, all running along side through those orange poppy fields and apple orchards. We would dig into those topped green ground and bottomed brown soil. We would swim into that naturally passive pacific ocean against her and his waves. All of us tripping, rising, falling, and laying together as that smoke would come out of our mouths in a manner of laughter punched me in love with the common natural disasters; such as, being world sick or relocating from hurricane damage. Freshly world sick, our resting bodies heads up lift, and on top of the coconut tree you found it. The intelligent design itself, the cure for suicide, the positive ad progressive purpose. The warm white radiant glow balls connected like dots to the thin think silver linings hovered over us suspended in gaffa and sang. I will never forget all of the melodies I heard these past 24 hours. I'm going to sleep and lucid dream.

41

ode,
these cloudy days

o,
these cloudy days.
above my head is a blackberry cloud,
and it's bursting with blackberry bubbles and juices,
as i listen to my mother's voice count down the days these cats,
and dogs fall freely down.
being still is the movement.

upward and over the cliff,
is something suspended in thin air-gaffa that isn't visible.
unlike a cloud,
you can't see this shit.

is this weather really that unlivable?
because i think it's bliss when others can't stand in it.
o, for these are the days our sunlit space shapes the way our paths will go.
ode for these cloudy days.

NO,
these cloudy days.
don't deserve an ode,
but the lens' of the people who see dope
in the things that are whack in this world space
DO.

this endless repetition of life definition outlines
our admission into a jackpot of an existence everyday
through all of the endless contrast, exposure, and temperature.
We are extremely fortunate,
for we are heirs to an oil tycoon,
and livin' in a mansion.

weather dogs and cats, or blackberry juices
fall from the sky shattering your bones to the floor
and sting a sour pain into your eyes
Don't CRYeye
LAUGHa ha ha,
because I did,
and I'm fine,
but one of my favorite friends didn't,
and he shot himself in the head causing every single cat, dog, mother's voice, and drop of
blackberry juice to meow, woof, count down, and explode out of his beautiful oxygen accepting orifices.

ODE, for these are the days our sunlit space shapes the way our paths will go.
O for these cloudy days will pass,
so appreciate them while you can.

40

that's wack, man, gotta look at the dope.

39

Pillow

Thank you for the eyes that I have to see.

Thank you for everything I need.

Thank you for my mother whose love can never be reenacted or replicated.

I really gotta burn this letter,

While in a lightly black dimmed base of an unfamiliar space,

There is nothing to comfort me cept this green sleeping bag and madras pillow cased,

Pillow.

See.

I never realized how much of a beautiful word pillow is until right now.

Thank you.

38

FUCK

37

Michelle

I have never cried or felt pain departing anyone until today. I thought it was different, so I hid it. Until I found out I wasn't the only one.

36

To Jourdain, wherever you might be: Si nadie va a escuchar, seguir hablando. Todos somos dioses, todos somos dioses y diosas. Culto a todos, todo el culto. Amaos unos a otros. Te amo.

35

34

I AM REAL!
I AM SURREAL!

all of the things that you are march in during the night;
say hello before settling into your mind; making you a
funkacidal quirkalicious ambidream.

33

MOVING UP AND SO ALIVE


It's weird to me that i'm alive, a living person. I could be anything else but would I have a consciousness? What if I were the bed that I'm laying on or the hair scrunchie holding my rat's nest at bay? I would have no idea that I was one of these inanimate things. It's not within their capacity to alert me to the fact that they are a part of me or that I am a part of them. Or should I be intrinsically aware of this fact and treat all entities as I would treat another intelligent entity (i.e. a human)? Or what if I were an animate thing with no consciousness, like an ant or a tree? How would I recognize this fact? Do they send messages to me that I don't apprehend because of my human upbringing that isolates me from the universe in its wholeness and entirety? But maybe our entities are actually all blended together, it's the simple fact that we possess this thing, the human consciousness, that separates us from them. How sad that we are inherently isolated from the purest form of the whole of the universe. Hell, we damn well know that we originate from the dead organic matter buried in the earth's crust--carbon rings and organic molecules waiting to be forced against the entropic forces in the universe just to fucking create me or you or that asshole sitting next to you reading this (except this feat has already been performed--your parents procreated and you were fucking born, man, trippy).

But maybe that's where consciousness starts. In the detritus laying beneath your feet. Maybe it's sprinkled among the dirt, sand, rocks, or whatever--like an undetected magical element, at some point collected among the organic molecules to form you, with your individual consciousness. Or is it encoded in our DNA, the consciousness? But even DNA is created from these basic elements and molecules. Hard as I might, I honestly can't seem to wrap my mind around the thought and truly believe for more than a few seconds that I might not be an individual. But I guess I like that idea too. I can branch off and fucking be myself if I damn well prefer. Maybe that's like a human gift, consciousness: we can alternate between being ourselves and being a part of the whole fucking universe. Consciousness is like my bedroom where I retreat to during my introverted, enigmatic states; whereas, the rest of the world outside my space is the universe that I unavoidably must rejoin at times.

I suddenly had the thought of how alive I was as I walked across the hallway to my room and it half terrified me to think that I was suddenly conscious of such a thing. Not only did it occur to me that I was alive, but that I was a human. Not an ant. Ants have exoskeletons and are asexual (although they are the only species besides humans that occupy every continent in the world--minus Antarctica of course). But think about it, as a human and due to the consciousness we possess, everything we see is skewed. It's because humans are inherently flawed. We possess this consciousness. What the mother fuck. It's like a gift and a curse. It's like a wall that allows us to temporarily isolate ourselves and shape our perspective and develop variation, idiosyncrasies, quirks but at the same time allows us to move through doors that open us up to the idea that we are all connected. Maybe for a split second though, for that brief walk from the bathroom to my room, I suddenly broke the walls down and met the pure universe. Caveat: I don't really understand or know any of this or really anything at all, I'm just babbling throughout this damned journal entry written around 3 AM that you're kind of reading now because I damn well felt like sharing it.

Anyways, moving on, language is related to the human consciousness, I think. I have a love-hate relationship with language similar to that of consciousness. I'm a horrible speaker, I'm fucking awkward and weird. Half the time I come off as a confused, pot-addled hippie, something which I am not even close to, I just have so many thoughts sometimes my brain jams up or my stream of consciousness creates connections so quickly that I jump from one idea to another in speech and no one else can follow the connections. So really, fuck language it's like the band-aid that sort of covers up and binds a gaping wound that extends between people. I recently read an article by Lera Broditsky of Stanford University detailing her studies on language. According to Broditsky, language affects the way we think, varying from language to language and culture to culture.

In fact, without language there could never be interpretation; everything would have set meaning. Whatever I felt, saw, sensed, the next person, perhaps you, would immediately understand and through this symbiotic understanding, any need for language would be bypassed. Our minds would be melded as one. It's our consciousness, separate perspectives, and most especially language that prevents this. Everything is always lost in translation; it's an inherent characteristic of language. How would I understand precisely, exactly, with no misunderstandings, tiny gaps or even slight flaws what you meant? If you felt euphoria, rage, grief, etc., I can imagine your emotion; I could even go so far as to compare it to a related experience that I had, but it will never be the same. The only way I could truly gain your perspective is to remove my consciousness from my own head and body and place it in your brain in such a way that you would be unaware of my presence and still act as you naturally do. Only then could the barriers created by consciousness be broken down. Language would be void. It fascinates me to no end. What are they really seeing? Thinking? Hoping? Wondering? Or fuck who knows I could be entirely misguided. Maybe it's the universal sharing of human consciousness and isolation that brings us together. Which is it? Are we individuals wandering throughout space looking to make connections? Or are we already inherently connected through the commonality of our state of isolation? Fodder.

MADE YA THINK.


Laura Broditsky

32

31

Love one another.

30

29

Brian Doyle (left), Foty (middle), Kyle Tatum (right)

DISCLAIMER: I have a raw writing style. I have ADHD and this way of writing is the only thing that keeps me going. Please, please, please, please, please don't read this if you are appalled by dialect, drugs, poor grammatical structure, profanity, and or over the age of 29. I was going to say like 25-26, but I have a friend who is 28, so i'll give him a year to stumble upon this and read it. I love you. I mean to you, not just my friend, who's name is Keith Stephan by the way. Look him up on the face, he is doin' big thangs.

HUXLEY - Brian Doyle & Kyle Tatum. They are one of the freshest up and coming DJs/producers in the Buffalo, New York dance and music scene, which if you haven't know is somewhat of a pretty big deal. So ladies, look in your closet, find your most striking American Apparel dress, grab a pair of nice flats, call up o' text yo fellow female specimen and gay followers to tell em that we're off to soundlab fo Huxley emoticon emoticon. So guys, finish up your brew with your bros and/or lame beer pong game, check your facebook, see that all of the girls you want to take advantage of have their status as "Everyone go to soundlab fo Huxley tonight, " and go there at least at 11: 30 pm to rub your jean covered male reproductive organ in and around the female specimens' bodies to the dance remix electronica booty bumpin bass sounds of the duo, Huxley.

High School, oh High School - DRUGS! MUSIC! What more do I have to say. Tatum went to Frontier High School, which if you don't know is notorious for having one of the largest ratings of students to consume all sorts of narcotics, hallucinogenics, opiates, and methylenedioxymethamphetamines. Ok, that last one is supa de dupa long fo MDA, Ecstasy, Molly. AKA, the drug of choice among rave and dance party goers. Please, don't take it. It's bad fo yo brain and it makes music sound/feel phenomenal, thats right I said feel, as well as sexual relations and intercourse. But, enough about that. Basically these drugs were like an epidemic at Tatum's educational facilty, so he got a taste for good drugs and good music. Doyle, too got into not doing drugs at his original school, Orchard Park High School, and his momma and daddy dukes sent him to my high school, The Canisius High School. Might as well call it The Cannabis High School. He made friends, duh. But he made friends with this one kid who's dad owned a DJ service. Daddy Warbucks needed some mo heads to service sound to bar/bat mitzvahs, graduations, weddings, and wherever sound needed to served. So that's how the seed got planted in Doyle, if you will.

Canisius College - Doyle and Tatum enrolled at the prestigious private institue, located somewhere close to the overworked blood pumping heart of Buffalo, as first time incoming freshman in the fall of `08. I don't know Tatum's freshman story all too much, but Doyle really wasn't havin' it with his soccer-bro roommate his first year living on campus in the honors dorm, Dugan Hall. The guy was listening to too much Taylor Swift or some shit, constantly having his gf stay ova so they could have sexual intercourse like pygmy chimpanzees, and overall he was just unfair to Brian. Sounds like a douche bag, but I bet he has a family who loves him dearly. Anyway. In return, he chose to live with a random roommate fo the following semester. It was Kyle. They hit it off quite nicely, almost too nicely. I think they are cute together, really adorable. They are soul mates. Anyway one thing lead to another and they started sharing musical interest which lead to playing, remixing, and producing music. Electronica and Trance music, more specifically.

Starting to get legit - MONEY IS BOTH MONETARY VALUE AND TIME. And they spent a lot of it on all of the proper equipment, illegally downloading programs to their laptops as well as music, and thrice producing, remixing, and remastering tracks. Money can only go so far, it is the time you spend with the spent money that really makes the difference. Hours upon hours of "practice" as well "stage performance" had been the key to Huxley's vast improvement. They started spinnin' house shows, which turned into spinnin' at selective events like the Buffalo Fashion Show, which eventually turned into spinnin' at Buffalo's outrageous night life venues like Soundlab and Pure Nightclub.

Too legit to quit - Communist Party is a married DJ duo based in Buffalo composed of Jessica and Cam Rector. They got their shit together to say the least, by playing and organizing many events in and out of the Buffalo area. Check em out, oh and I just realized I am in the profile pic pretty weird, http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=134304700471 . Anyway, Tatum messaged the Rectors via facebook some of their music; they listened to it, liked it, and asked them if they could be their managers. Ever since then Huxley has been booked for plenty of shows and festivals, including performing as the opening act for Black Eyed Peas member, will.i.am. Also, they have been currently sending music as well as their press kit to professional DJ, Steve Aoki, www.steveaoki.com. Aoki built his own record label, DIM MAK records, spoke with Doyle and Tatum, and is thinking about signing them to the label. Pretty big stuff for a group that has been together for little over a year.

I love you - Huxley, you guys are great! Thanks again for playing that private intimate show in my dining room last month. You guys are super nice, hard working, and very positive people. I see so much potential in y'all. Keep up the good work. And, thank you for reading this attempt of a piece on my friend's music group. Hopefully I did them a baby bit of justice. I love you.

28

27

26

This is not a cup
It's more of a nosehider
When you take a drink.
I wanted to call you up to
tell you that I love you
but you were out of range
so I thought of that instead.

25

You can't hide,

what you intend.

It glows in the dark.

24

gushing like water
floating on air
my lungs fill with breath
my bones are laid bare

23

Everything is relative.
Everything is perfect.

22

movement

21

I can see the reflections of the street lights underneath your eyes.

It's hard not to smile when your smile's so bright,

like the sunshine that is outside during this summertime.

I think I just might, kiss you.

20

Four Friends at Five in the Morning

With a stuck out head looking up,

I see black trees and stars in the sky.

City stars more specifically.

While morning is barely breaking into the night.

A quick switch of ideas,

and gears leads us to pools and puppies.

What momma thinks is wrong,

the kid thinks is right.

Adult consumer goods,

with wet feet is lovely.

Time passes by as we are laughing,

so it made for a good-goodbye.

The best things in life are nothing.

They are more than things, they are relationships.

dedicated to: Garrett, Gian, Mai-Linh, and Pat

19

Please Do Not Feed the People.

18

A poem about rainbows

Look at the rainbow spanning the city.
It's sublime right?
It marks a complement that is ever so fitting.
Sometimes at night,
I'm with you in a lovely luscious lake of lime green sitting,
And wading in the waters underneath the rainbow as it provides the light.
When I'm on my deathbed my milky mouth's movement will be slow as I'm wishing,
For you, me, and everyone else to be in a land where day lives with night, and there is nothing but rainbows in our sights.

17

hate is wack, and love is dope: what do you see?

The night nighs everywhere in time,
Even when it's daylight.
The subtle soft-shock of the sun scrapes the inside of my skin.
I hide in a deep darkness to never be discovered.
I hate it.
Sweet semi-toned sepia-tone sun color seeps through my bed sheets.
While I'm underneath the covers a smile is drawn upon to me.
The morning's glow fills me up with its' warmth.
Even though it's storming, and even though I'm torn.
I couldn't be happier.
I love it.

dedicated to mai good friend

16

Everyone hates seagulls. I will kill you seagull.

15

Chestnut Ridge Park, 2010

See the Dopeness?
Clouds ripple with loveliness,
moon is pure.
See the Wackness?
Something unattainable
except for the flawed
imitation.

14

The Richardson Towers were designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1986 by the U.S government. This, as well as the fact that it was one of the greatest architectural structures Buffalo, NY has to offer, gives great appeal to many urban explorers. You can find photos taken by people who have broke into this mammoth of a complex all over flickr and photo bucket. These towers give off an eerie and intriguing vibe to my neighborhood, the Elmwood Village, and I love them. They were designed by Henry Hobson Richardson, hence the name Richardson Towers, and the landscape was designed by everyones favorite, and my boi, Frederick Law Olmsted. I am moving further away from the towers in the fall, and it makes me sad that after all of these years I have yet to illegally trespass these great towers, So, with that being said, who wants to break into them with me!?

13

The lovely locust

In the village of locusts located in northwest Africa; locusts become alive, fit into their bodies, eat their body weight in plants, swarm, reproduce, then die. That is all they ever do, and all they have ever been doing for the past tens of thousands of years . However, today something unordinary is happening in the village. A female locust is born to live, and comes into this world laughing. A locust has never laughed before, and all of the locusts gather around to witness the obscure occurrence in amazement. Suddenly, all of the locusts are able to communicate with words rather than buzzes, hums, and songs. Suddenly, all of the locusts are enlightened.
The first thing the lady locust sees after opening her eyes from laughing is death about to occur among an elderly locust as a group of youthful locusts begin to trample over him. She rescues the elder from the trauma, brings him to safety, and asks:
"Are you alright?"
"Well, of course I'm fine, but you could have just let me die."
"No, never! As long as time has us nigh*, I will serve this life, our life, for us to live together."
"That's lovely. You are a lovely locust."
The lovely locust embraces the elder and with empathy sheds tears that heal the elder's wounds.
In celebration of being happy for the first time the locusts decide to swarm to Great Britain. The lovely locust pleads for all the locusts to stop and that she will die in twelve hours if they do so. The mayor of the village confronts her:
"What are you talking about, lovely? We can talk now, we are happy, we can live with the humans!"
"They don't know who we are, they only know who we were. Our ancestors, and those before us ruined the trust of the humans due to a lack of higher consciousness and infestation."
"Oh, come on our ancestors weren't that bad."
"What? We are related to the eighth plague, mayor. Trust me, all they are going to is contact professionals to terminate us."
"I believe you, but it is too late. The swarm has already taken off, and there is no turning back once there is a swarm; you and I both know this."
"Well, lets have fun right?"
"I agree, lets."
The mayor and the lovely locust head for swarm after a hearty meal and many laughs.
The swarm reaches Great Britain and heads into the city. Professional terminators are called in and the lovely locust laughs at the site. She scoops down to the eyesight of the head terminator and says:
"What's the difference between you and I, my love?"
"This."
The head terminator then proceeds to squash lovely in-between his thumb and index finger. All of the locusts lose their enlightenment, vocabulary, and higher consciousness. The end. Be happy, we are in heaven.
Psalm 2:4 - He who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord holds them in derision.

12

Glorious, dirty water. So unfortunate, so lovely.

11

HARD

As the rain pours down hard
ill let go of my head
and let go of my heart
kicking those autumn leaves
in disbelief that we have been
torn apart thus far.
The light love of lightning leaves my sights in seconds
disappearing into the thin cold blue and black darkness
what has happened i seemed to have slipped sliding down
hard.

10

I miss you (dedicated to you)

I know how it feels to love someone.
I know how it smells, tastes, and sounds.
I know that these tired tears trickle down each cheek.
While you are bound for a special specimen, more specifically not me.
Ch-ch-chaterring teeth crushing down at my fingernails, while I go back and forth rocking.
I don't care; I would walk out in the snow, even the hail.
I guess that is what depression does to me,
by dropping my confidence till its got me.
I know you are normal,
and I have issues.
I ran out of tears
for my tissues
because
I miss
you.

9

Life: Go for the ride

to the left
run,run,run,run
stop.
to the right
run,run,run,run
stop.
Wherever I go,
It will Not Change.
Whether I choose to,
Stop or run away.
My mind often shifts to
An altered state.
While my feet rest still,
and my arms comfortably by my side.
It takes two hemispheres to equal whole life,
And the product is us being alive.
But!
Some hemispheres are at war,
and some are at peace.
Take things in stride.
And your mind wont be sore,
your mind won't be weak.
Go for the ride.

8

7

6

5

4

3