The Open Matt Project

From a conversation last week:

From a conversation last week:

"When someone tells you they are too busy to spend time with you, what they mean is that everything else in their life is more important than you."

Personal Daily Horoscope of Monday,

Personal Daily Horoscope of Monday, 21 April 2003
for Matt Holmes, born 3 November 1972

Heart over mind
Weak, transient effect: This influence usually denotes a brief period of good feelings and generosity toward others. This morning you feel that everything is all right, and you have nothing to fear. You express your self- confidence by being above petty irritations. Not easily angered, you tolerate even the most harsh behavior from other people. But you probably won't have to contend with "harsh behavior," because the energy of this influence does not arouse it in those around you. You will get what you give ­ kindness, friendship and nurturing support. This influence can also awaken your concern for the deeper aspects of life. You may seek metaphysical and spiritual insights, but with your heart rather than your mind. Rational knowledge is not likely to satisfy you at this time

Nothing. I mean nothing, could be further from the truth.

Today is one of the

Today is one of the harder days for some reason. I'm not sure why. Third week of the month - I think there's a pattern there.

I felt another story in me today. I decided to not write it down this time. At least here.

Oh, and I officially fucking hate hockey.

No seriously, I'm like checking

No seriously, I'm like checking out my own site and I'm like, uhhh yeah like what the hell man? I write these crazy-ass superbad things and like... nobody even comments on it even to call it presumptuous, pretentious bullshit or anything.

How depressing!

Pretty fucked up... but I

Pretty fucked up... but I laughed.

For more laffs.

I fucking hate morning birds.

I fucking hate morning birds. When I am old and I have my own land, I will start my day by getting up early and shooting them from my porch with a high-powered rifle. "tweet tweet THIS motherfucker bird fuck!" BOOOM!

Deserted By Matt Holmes There

Deserted
By Matt Holmes

There was sand, there was sun, and there was Sayyid.
The sand never changed, but constantly shifted.
The sun burned and froze, and burned and froze.
And Sayyid roamed with his tribe, as it was always.

With camels and tents and robes and blades
Always shifting and never changing
Sayyid and his tribe lived and died and fought
With the sand, under the sun, as it was always

Splashed with blood and under the dead
Sayyid found the boxes and the flowers inside.
Outside they had color and scent that changed
Everything about the desert, as it was always

Hunting and roaming and long days and nights
Through slashing sands and hellish heat
Their beauty cleansed and healed Sayyid
And filled his heart as it had never been

Their life changed his, the sands, and the sun
Surrendered their nature and opened up
Their blossoms and leaves and wrappings
To give and be given as it had never been

For days and weeks their presence bloomed
And change came and came unwanted
Sayyid saw the darkened edges creep
Beginning to be as they had never been

No wine nor milk nor shelter would help
The crisp and wilt took root without end
He cared and cursed and cried for change
To sustain and keep his joy there forever

Alas they could not live Sayyids life
A thirst for water and a hunger for soil
Unsatisfied too long, the end was quick
And the truth came from then and forever

There was sand, and sun, and Sayyid
And movement no longer was change
What once burned had been frozen still
In his roaming alone to forever

You know the world is

You know the world is going crazy when the best rapper is a white guy, the best golfer is a black guy, The Swiss hold the America's Cup, France is accusing the US of arrogance, and Germany doesn't want to go to war.

"There is a stone in

"There is a stone in my heart"

This is what I said earlier today. It's a big cold stone, and it's heavy. Probably more heavy than cold. If you take a really long, hot shower or bath, and then drink a full glass of ice water, you'd get some idea of how it feels. It hurts and it makes you want to tear your insides out. A little.

I have a logic loop in my life that brings new meaning to "vicious cycle." I want X but can't have X because of Y and Y is non-negociable, but even if it weren't I'd want Z - and Z is not good for me. So I have A. Except I can't really enjoy A because of X. And so we're back at the beginning. Whee!

Toss in some emotional baggage, a history of psychotropic drug use, and at least one severe blow to the head, mix and enjoy.

I know I don't.

*gngngggggnnrrrnnnn* must not say *UGHhnnngnnnnn*

*gngngggggnnrrrnnnn* must not say *UGHhnnngnnnnn* what's on ... *rrrrgrrnnnhhh* my mind!!!

Oh call me if you

Oh call me if you ever need to. If you ever feel like you need someone to reach out to, don't forget me.

Yeah, right. Got it.

Sweet dreams.

Drinking can be hazardous to

Drinking can be hazardous to your health.

Tonights episode of "Boomtown" was

Tonights episode of "Boomtown" was about a drunk driver hit-and-run. There were all these scenes involving people who were alcoholics. I felt that terrible pull in my chest again while watching some of these scenes. As I understand it, alcoholics are never cured, but rather they go through a process wherein each day is taken sober - one after another forever. I felt that heart tug of inevitablility watching these characters face their challenges, because I feel it too.

You want another drink. Just one more. Just let me sip it. How about just a sniff. Ok, let me hold the bottle. No? Then tell me a story about it. Still no? Screw you, I'll just dream about it. And if I can't sleep because my whole existance is keening for any fucking connection at all, maybe I'll start a website and try to bleed myself of the disease.

But it doesn't work. That's the thing. Your feeling of emptiness comes from a hole in you. A hole you try to fill. You can fill it with lovely flowing drowning alcohol, or the shit you buy and never use and call your stuff, or money money how much do I have, or golden-god bioflex trimmed abs athletics in urea stenched basements, or sweaty grunting moaning desparate fucks clutching meat mirrors of yourself, or doppelganger mothering self-pity, or maybe just plain love. You must fill it.

Are you addicted? Do you need that hole filled to draw breath? When your blankey got taken away, wasn't it the end of the earth? Your best friend betraying you was nearly your end. When you first saw that your father was not invulnerable, didn't you feel cheated? Speaking of cheated, when your other cheated on you, how did you survive? When your parent died, or left, how did you go on? Where is that first love of yours? The one you couldn't live without? The thing that gave you reason for living? That part of your heart that you felt more than your own pulse?

It's gone. She's gone. He's gone. It's over. You did something wrong. You did nothing wrong. It doesn't matter either way. You feel the loss and it sucks - the hole, I mean. It sucks and sucks like a baby for a dripping tit just out of reach. Give it back! Put it back! Give me! I am dying.

you want your whiskey, double on the rocks.
you want finer muscle tone, to fit your bill.
you want to go pray to your god.
you want your lover.
you want

you want what fills the hole.

I hate not missing my

I hate not missing my mother. I make up stories. I pick my nose. I'm ashamed of my teeth, and every time I look at them I still hear the kids from school calling me beaver. Every time. I don't wash my feet. I love the feel of a soft ass cheek against my face. I masturbate at least twice a day, sometimes up to six times, and I love it. I wish my sister were free from her useless, scumbag husband. I rescued a princess in a series of dreams from when I was 7 years old till I was about 10, and when I finally rescued her and told her how much I loved her - she slowly dissipated in my arms, whispering "goodbye... goodbye..." My mother died when I was 7 and although I remember that dream with perfect clarity, I can't remember the night she died at all.

I like salty, spicy, hot, and filling food, like peppered beef jerky and thick chili. I wear my socks repeatedly without washing them. Sometimes I do that with my underwear as well. I have fallen in love under the moonlight, baking in the sun, on trains, in busses, over a desk, standing on a steaming manhole cover in midtown Manhattan, in the attic as well as the basement, on the beach, and in a tree and I wouldn't trade any of it for anything. I believe in the death penalty. When I feel comfortable enough and I'm not obsessing about myself too much, I love eating pussy. I love it more when I don't have to break my neck doing it. I love to run and I love to dance and I love to climb rocks and I love to wrestle. I hate hearing my heart beat. Almost every night of my childhood I spent on the lower bunk of the bunkbed, under my sister's foam mattress, having to constantly brush off the foam dust that fell on me all night. I have hated okra my whole life and even though every four years or so I try it again, it is still a despicable vegetable.

I think I know better than most people, regardless of how frequently that proves to be untrue. Despite his best efforts, my father could never hide the Christmas presents from me and he never could figure out how to keep me off the computer after he went to bed. One of the first things I used my original modem connection for was to find pornography. I enjoy bizarre pornography, yet even when offered free rein in bed, I am completely traditional. I like to hold doors for women, and give up my seat to old people. I don't think I have had more than 10 pairs of shoes in my entire life. My asscrack is hairy.

I have inadvertently dealt out pain to people I have loved and people I have hated - and they have inadvertently returned the favor. Consistently. I don't believe in karma. I do believe in true love. I destroyed my knee when I was 14 chasing after a woman who had babysat for me and it has never healed. I was in love. I went to her wedding years later and got drunk and called the groom an asshole. Later that day, her younger sister hit on me and I decided to get the fuck out of there and I don't think I've ever been back. I love being touched idly when I'm resting. I hate people who fidget, especially when it makes sounds. People who spin their pens are either asian, or I hate them, or both.

I love seeing breasts, but I don't particularly care what their size is when I get to touch them. I am so lonely that I see it in everyone around me, and their efforts to comfort me strike me as nearly macabre, or perhaps slightly vampiric. I have never been into girl-on-girl action. The one thing that attracts me most in a girl is her eyes. Blind people scare me. I have never been afraid of the dark, due to a realization that if there were to be anything supernatural lurking there, it would most likely be my mother and the worst I could expect would be the buckle end of my father's belt.

I didn't really believe anything my father told me as a child, but I really believe that nearly everything my father told me was true. Keeping your word is important. Stealing is wrong. Don't go to bed angry. Apologize. Brush your teeth. I cried when I heard Jim Henson was dead. I have mood swings that range from day to day. I read somewhere about something-something "bipolar" something, but I decided that if I was going to place the blame (and the solution) for my problem on something, it would be God and not some trendy psychology. I'm a sucker for redheads. I don't like sweets. I don't like sweet things in general. I miss my mother.

It's raining today. Hard, heavy

It's raining today. Hard, heavy rain. The kind that you can't protect yourself from because the wind wooshes it under your umbrella and into your face. I went out with Ian today and ran some errands. It was pretty fun, and good to get out-and-about even if it was completely asstacular weather-wise.

I pierced my face - two-time. It hurt a hell of a lot more than the first time I got pierced. I tried to explain to the guy who was doing the piercing that the reason I was better off gripping the table was because I have a tendency to punch things that hurt me - and he was hurting me. I think he understood, but how much understanding can you give someone who announces that it's likely they're going to punch you soon? At any rate, he did a good job (I think) and even though my face still hurts, and I've got weeks of annoying maintenance to go through, I'm pretty happy with the whole deal.

Maybe I'll take pictures and put them up. But probably not.

I really want to go out and have a drink. I've been kinda judge-sober, binge-drinker recently. Yesterday I went clean altogether - no caffiene, nicotine, or alcohol. It was kinda nice actually. But right now I'd like to go out and get a drink. Maybe some tea. Mint. More for the smell than the taste.

For Liz (since hotmail will

For Liz (since hotmail will not accept large attachments... whee!):

Fleming and John - Ugly Girl

New post for all those

New post for all those who have been asking:

I'm hung over.

ugh

Funniest review of "The Core"

Funniest review of "The Core" - no wait - ANY movie, I've ever read.

I laughed hard at least 5 times

One of the things that's

One of the things that's a known hazard of loving someone is being unavoidably blind of their flaws. Assuming that the negatives are coming from yourself or from the world, it rarely occurs to you that this perfect being, this unmarred soul, could in fact be flawed. They can make mistakes. Repeatedly and of the same nature.

Maybe you let them babble endlessly, only absorbing the occasional sentence - but isn't the sound of their voice magical?
Maybe you're thrilled they remembered your birthday, even if they've forgotten all the other important dates - but your birthday is the most important!
Maybe you let them be right, even when they are dead wrong - but who's right all the time?
Maybe they keep you up at night, with their snoring or tossing and turning - but feeling their breath on you is just the balm for the insomnia.
Maybe they're moody
Maybe they smell bad
Maybe they lie

What a horrible revelation to find this dusty catalog of sins lying underneath the corpse of your love. Oh, what a fool you've been. How could you have tolerated it for so long? All that time, and you never saw it. Why didn't I listen to all those people? Damn me!

NO. Damn them. Go ahead. Trade the old veil for a new one if you like.

Love is infinite - and infinitely patient.

I'm too sick to type

I'm too sick to type much.

Sometimes you feel like people don't understand you. Sometimes you think people understand you and then it becomes clear that is not true. Most of the time you don't understand other people. You take these moments where you're balancing figuring out who you are with who other people are, and sometimes you get it right. You understand who you are and what you must do and you understand what they are and what they expect from you.

But that doesn't happen very often. At least as far as I've seen.