blamo.

i think i got the culprit.

i think the culprit has chastised me, but i think the culprit and i have different philosophies on things, and so i think the culprit’s conclusions about me have ended up wrong.

i allowed myself 24 hours of spite and fun. i was happy to participate.

i guess it’s a coincidence how there’s no drama when i’m left alone.

if you leave me now,
you’ll take away the biggest part of me

woo woo wooo no,
baby please don’t go
…

and so i walked back inside,
with my broken heart,
and i got a coke from the fridge,
and i watched a bit of conan.

there’s a greek festival happening, about twohundred yards from my front door.

the streets are packed with parked cars and there were lots of strange sounds and smells, so i went to see what was going on.

it’s shoulder-to-shoulder people, with huge tents all over. there is what seems to be traditional greek music, and fields of food as far as you can see with cataracts.

all this souvlaki and moussaka. i was going to have some but there’s nowhere to sit, and i feel out of place because everyone there seems to know everyone else and they’re all talking.

i don’t want to seem unnerving by being secluded and silent.

there are lots of girls and they’re all carrying opened bottles of wine.

maybe i’ll go back later to help people find their cars.

i don’t know how you’ll ever find the first map, but if and when you do, it will instruct you on finding your way to where i’ve hidden the second map.

the second map will be tricky to figure out, but if you’re really smart, you’ll find that it leads the way to where i’ve hidden the third map.

the third map is pretty easy, and in no time you’ll have found the fourth map.

the fourth map gets really difficult, and plus you’ll get your legs all scratched up if you’re wearing shorts, because it leads you right through the middle of this prickly thistle patch. and then across this stream and things like that and you’ll be about to give up by the time you find the fifth map.

the fifth map is friggin pie, compared to the fourth map, but in reality it’s still pretty tough. you have to shatter some shatter-proof glass to get the sixth map that i’ve hidden.

the sixth map is courteous, because it takes into account that you’re probably really really damn hungry by this point, so it takes you straight through a Quizno’s(tm). i recommend their chocolatechocolate chip cookies, too. and then you can continue on to find the seventh map.

the seventh map will self-destruct in sixty-three minutes, so you’d really better hurry.

the eighth map is ffrustrating because it seems to take you ’round in criss-crossing loopdeeloops, much like the number ’8′ itself. but if you keep your cool, you eventually come to find map #9, though your opinion of me might be diminished when you find where i’ve managed to hide that one.

and so then you’ve got map nine.

#9 is a map to my heart.

(awwwyeah, waddup?)

the legends are intrinsic, like they usually are.

today i should go to the store to buy more band-aids.

they will be for the impending scabs on my feet and my conscience.

and i only have one band-aid left, and i’m not prepared to make those kind of prioritizing decisions.

hello boar’s head on a sharp stick in the middle of the jungle,

i would chat intelligent jargons with you, and wax philosophical and all that, but i’ve just got a quick comment.

you overestimate islands.

love,
-tim.

the first clue would have been a sixth-sense. ive remembered to promise myself a proper realization of the past ten years’ triumphs. i’ve gotten caught up in the windowless onslaughts of the graveyard strategies that raise your voice from the ground. it says “what you’ve amounted to..” but never finishes the sentence.

your green was always winter and you’d always try to hide it/from me but i never told you i’d known all along and i was /practicing spring in my yellowest ways [to glow]

and i know how the treble erupts from a doubted ocean – a wet salty smell gives you a faithless headache, and the night’s dreams are of shimmering temples on golden shores.

/cannot see the lost in the eyes on the photograph., the boy was shining his light at himself and hoping to see where the monsters were}

&but the monsters collected in the backgrounds and surrounded the boy as he was leaning in on himself / and all the land became graveyards / and all the voices became hisses on a nighttime wind and his light was told to winter and was lost in the blizzards that had slept in his heart//

and when the dark had come it was a new warm to feel against the skin, with the snow that would bury him cold.