Saturday, April 30, 2011


"So, sir, enough about me. Yourself?"

"I have been traveling alone."

"That's all?"

"I tried traveling alone... and something, went awry. I did something..." tears...

"oh no. You poor man." reaching over to the open shoulder. It's pushed away, tears are pushed back behind the eyes once again.

"Don't, it's my own damn fault. And I've been running faster than I've ever run before."

"You can't do everything."

"Says who."

Monday, April 25, 2011

Random writings trashed, something I found and simple adventures.

-Random Writings.

Professional killer, destroy me not
provocative instigator, I revel so
I wasn't quite true
so we bled through

Childish beholder, never forgot
untimely death, into the depth
Success is nothing, but greek to me
growing weary and weak.


Wasn't built for greatness
wasn't built for fame
It's all just a shame
and I don't blame You


Poster child with no poster

I ain't got nothn' to lose.
Only the exhaustion from huntn'.
Lines entangled together,
cut it loose for christs sake!


-Something I found

While on a hunt through Bens' Potter shoppe. I found a room, covered in glass and a sound booth inside. The first day I found a letter written for a last anonymous playlist a group of people were making for each other. It appears they would write notes about their troubles anonymously as a group and share, just hide them or put them in a pile. I found the remnants of one persons mix cds. Just the list of songs from the month October and a note that goes with the last playlist shared. Here is the note I found:

"You - (you),
I am sorry to tell you that this is the end - the last of the Monthly anonymous mix cds. i don't know if i will ever be able to explain what it meant to me to be part of this - and to be included in your lives. Thank you. for giving me this outlet - this beautiful place to exist as something secret, & intimate, & rare. if you want to know me, please! send me an e-mail - (

if you would prefer to have the intrigue, take it - it's yours to keep. Thank you, again, for listening - for being a breathing human being with ears & heart & penchant for mystery & eccentricity. thank you for letting me into your life. i loved this. so much. thank you, thank you, than you. & goodbye.
with love,
your secret friend."

This is the first playlist I found:

(to be listened to in the dark during a thunderstorm.)

1. mirah: cold cold water*
2. the mountain goats: dilaudid*
3. mark mothersbaugh: we call them pirates out here*
4. the decemberists : II (from the train)*
5. rufus wainwright: evil angel*
6. elysian fields: black acres*
7. denale: function
8. cat power: the werewolf song*
9. radiohead: exit music (for a film)*
10. murder by death: that crown don't make you a prince*
11. sufjan stevens: john wayne gacy, jr.*
12. elliott smith: angeles*
13. low: whore*
14. bjork: unravel*
15. sigur ros: saeglopur*
16. the new year: 18
17. m83: safe*
18. the album leaf: window*

I wondered if this was the last playlist mentioned, but I decided to look around the next day again... a bit more thoroughly. I brought a flashlight this time. I found another playlist printed this time, it was the last one! It was in May, here is the mix cd:

[alas! the last, the last. how I loved this (you).]

1. the one a.m. radio: measured mile begins
2. editors: let your good heart lead you home*
3. sufjan stevens: chicago (acoustic)*
4. badly drawn boy: camping next to water*
5. casey dienel: the la la song
6. joanna newson: clam, crab, cockle, cowrie*
7. bob dylan & johnny cash: girl of the north country
8. arcade fire: cold wind
9. ben lee: in my life
10. elliott smith: i better be quiet now
11. the wekerthans: left & leaving
12. denison witmer: this and that
13. figurines: race you
14. destroyer: streethawk II
15. sunset rubdown: us ones in between
16. jeff buckley: last goodbye
17. andrew bird & nora o'connor: oh, sister
18. wilco: she's a jar
19. the shins: harvest moon (live)
20. nick drake: which will
21. ben folds: evaporated*

I found the last playlist, I went on an adventure in the store. It's so big and has so much history. At one point it was an art studio, school, computer lab, dance studio, stores, pottery shoppe, recording lab, and recreational hall. So there was soo much stuff to look at.

Also, through this I need your help. I really enjoy the idea of being part of this history. This liturgy fromm people I don't know and I won't get a hold of. I tried to e-mail that person, but no luck. Which is ok, I can let my imagination fill in the rest. It makes for a great story, people who knew each other but really... didn't. Helped one another through something, something great and something different. Just by making playlists and mix cds with a note attached. How amazing we are! This human race. So much despair but so much tenacity and curiosity that leads us into danger and greatness. It's considerably absurd and such an audacity but, truly beautiful.

So, this is the help I need. You'll notice a * next to some songs, these are the songs I have. If anyone knows or has some songs to help me obtain to have these mixes in a whole... I will, give to them, completed mixes and a special something with it for the trouble. It would be much appreciated!

Now here are some photos and a song by Morrissey.

bai bai.

Have you ever had any adventures like this? Going on hunts and finding random pieces from time past?

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Night (freshly edited)

By: Kristoffer Denoyer

Part Uno

As I have come to slowly realize, that once I have lost what I hold dear, literally everything, I have gained eternity. A sort of... infinity so to speak. With that in mind, I started my Night and as Night persists, while life carries on I shall forever delve into insanity a little bit more. From what I have experienced this eve and now that dawn is upon my unrested body. I think of a joke first thing, if there is no rest for the wicked, then I am Voldemort. I giggle to myself. Straight away my mind turns to a serious note, I feel neither life nor death shall bring me closer to truth. So do not disturb these bones, please. Perhaps that’s what should rest on my tombstone.

Maybe death and life are nothing more then perceptions amongst a world powered by nature and nature is quite far from our human logic. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against it nor chaos, these Nights are made for chaos and insanity. In a way the only branch I have left to feeling, for pleasure, to any spiritual existence once held dear. Growing tired of the saviour, no longer wishing to be saved, no, I wanna be free. The two are separable and if it is all perception, what I am being saved from? My own self? I dig me.

Now my morning begins, warm cup of joe and a fag in my mouth. Stepping outside in my pea-coat, I allow the dew to settle on me before taking any hasty movements. Taking a seat as if I am forming a piece of the stone that rests under my ass, my body never truly settles. I decide it is time to light up, each move is cool and crisp. I can’t feel the strains endured from the Night before. Upon staring at the dew I ponder all the girls I once loved, Green comes to mind, if people are like rain, I would be drizzle and they would be hurricanes. I mean, that’s what seems so exotic about it. The flare, mystery, an unknown element that grasps the attention of any onlooker or passerby. The sought adventure, what’s more interesting then something beyond understanding? All this whilst the blinders slowly crack open, freeing the once sheltered eyes. Seeing a sun anew, as if stars never existed. All additives to the Night, an extension of the existentialist existence.

My coffee’s bloody cold... my square isn’t quite finished. I wonder if anyone is up quite yet. I shan’t wake them. Can’t believe it’s seven in the morn, my obscenely tired body hit the mattress only two hours ago. And already my blood is pumping, heart is racing, my leg is hopping at a considerable rate. That’s good I suppose, means this body hasn’t objected to the Night I have grown in to.

Lost in thought as always, I was startled by a loud bang behind me. To my surprise it was May, I quite fancied her. She was a great girl, but a hurricane. She sat right next to me, without question took a smoke and a sip of cold brewed coffee. Standing May briskly went inside and freshened it up, handing it to me, “Here man, no use having a chilled cup of coffee on such a chilly morning.”

“Thanks, Amiga. Everyone still sleepn’?”
“Umm,”, she says while looking back, “not sure, I was hoping the bang of that door would wake their asses up.” She started to light her cigarette. I don’t know what it is but, watching her smoke makes me want to smoke. It looks like it’s her first one every time. Also, watching her smoke is of interest to me, no idea why, just is. I looked over at her smirking, “It’s about damn time,” I respond. Pulling out another stick from the pack, “I’m hungry, May” I liked to say her name, there was something eloquent about it, a name with class.

“Ya man, how did you sleep last night?” I had been awaiting that question, so I can make room for my joke. So I got ready to re-quip, “Well if rest is truly for the wicked, then I my friend, am Voldemort.” From behind came a gasp, We both had turned. Mika was in the doorway, “He-who-should-not-be-named! My gawd.” we all chuckled. “Let me grab my jacket.”

“Did you sleep well, man?” She moved her neck around, “Not as well as I had hoped, just a bit stiff.” She took a drag, “Getting better with every puff though.” Which made me smirk. Mika had made her way outside, “Mind if I have one of those?”

“Not at all.” May and I stated in unison. Quickly I followed it up with, “Jinx! You owe me a coke!”
“DAMMIT!” She exclaimed. Mika was laughing as she tried to light up, having a deal of trouble as it was jumping around from laughter. “Dude, I didn’t even notice you open the door.”, I mentioned. She finally got her cig lit, “That’s right bitches, ninja skills.”

May snickered and slyly rebuked, “Ya, something like that, creeper.” Mika frowned, trying to keep her reaction serious, “You don’t mean that.”
“Aww... let me hugs you!” May flung her arms open, “No way, fuck you man!”, exasperated Mika. Pushing the embrace away with one arm until finally a loving bear hug occurred. Events like this happen frequently between them, but always for a good laugh. They were adorable.

As only an onlooker, I commentated, “Isn’t that just the cutest dammed thing I ever did see.” Taking a sip of my coffee, adding a southern twang, “Good Golly Gee Wilikers.”
“Shut up, you know you love it.” Exclaimed Mika as they both swing down to share the love my way. Making sure I don’t spill my coffee or burn anyone with my smoke, entrapped on both sides, “Oh yes, how would I survive without this affection? I’d die I say, I’d die.”

May started to stand, “ I’m gonna go get ready. Then wake up Diana.” I finish puffing on my fag, “Go for it, ma’am.”

Mika hands her cigarette my way, “Could you hold this? I need to use the restroom.” I grab it, “Thanks, man.” They both head inside, I make note that her smoke is in my right hand, while my smoke is in the left. Not that it really matters. Share and share alike, I say. My mind wanders back to the dew upon the grass, thinking about how I am the only male here. I don’t mind it in the least, most the time I appreciate it. Though they’re hurricanes, the exception is Mika, who is more like myself. In the areas of love, her and I have a certain connection of understanding. I mean, still have similarity to May and Diana, just in different areas.

Damn, my butts cold. So I stand, leaning my back against the house. It’s also getting bright outside, I exchange my thick rimmed glasses with similar sunglasses. I feel like Dylan. On that note, I take a long methodical drag staring into the sunlight. Today is not where I saw myself a year ago, but I don’t know where else I wish to be. As Douglas said, “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”

Mika sauntered back out leaning across from me, I relight her square, it had gone out. “Thanks darlin’.”, putting her sunglasses on. She was a ravishing gal, so caring and loving. I just absolutely love her mussed up hair, it’s amazing. I wish I had it, but couldn’t pull it off nearly as well. “No worries, ma’am. Now, how did you sleep?”

In the sunlight, the peace before she answered, I wonder, how did I get so lucky? Surrounded by beautiful people both inside and out. I question this oft. She moved her back about, “hmm, I had a goodnight. I never really sleep though.”

“So, you feeln’ alright?” I bent over, putting out my fag in the dirt.

Laughingly responding, “Tired.” Blowing smoke over her shoulder. She looked at the bright red glow, ashing the cig. She seemed rather distracted. Out of curiosity I ask, “What happens to be passing through those thoughts of yours?”

Pulling her gaze up towards me, crushing the glowing ember, “Huh? Oh, nothin’. Let’s get to the coffee shoppe.” Pondering if that’s the truth or not, I look down at my cold mug. “Ya, Lez go.” Meandering back inside. Starting to yell, “Diana! Diana! Diana! Wake up!” Her small voice echos back, “I’m up already.” So I take a seat on the couch and switch glasses again.

Mika heads back to the other end of the house, assuming to pack up.
May is siting on the kitchen counter, I can see half of her from the door way. Most likely on her phone catching up on conversations.
Diana was getting ready to leave.

Which reminds me, I haven’t checked my phone since I went outside. I don’t expect to have anything new. The main posse is here, oh, it seems I misplaced my phone in between the couch cushions.

Surprisingly I have new messages, both from the same person. Forgetting the fact I have been documenting my Night. Sending pictures with commentary to a friend far away. Just so they feel more in touch with life here. To him, at times, this is a whole new reality. It could be, considering my brighter times prior in life. His messages read, “OH! New people I don’t know and a dog, can we turn that dog into a battle puppy?” and “Her face is very blurry, you should work on your photo skills... or is it she’s a suspect in a crime and her identity is secret? I hope for number two.” Giggling at such responses, I write back, “Yes, we shall make him a battle puppy. Send me some drawings with the supplies needed. Yes, she is a suspect. We keep her well hidden and with a generator blurring her face constantly.”, clicking send.

Tossing aside my leash to society, in this age a necessity, I decide to close my eyes and rest my weary head. Hoping for a mere moment of shut eye, I fell asleep. Next thing I know is May’s voice, “Hey man, wake up. It’s coffee time.” Groggily rubbing my eyes from under crooked glasses, poppn’ and lockn’ into some standing position, we head out.

Part Deuce

Before this trip, I had my first day of counseling. Depression and mental disorders are considered the norm for my family background. It seemed only a matter of time until I’d be laying on that couch. And for the first visit she mainly asked personal questions, family history, how do you feel on a scale from one to five type stuff. Then she asked a humdinger , “How are you today?”

Fidgeting from side to side, “Not to well. Stuck on some thought.”, this couch makes my back sweat. “What’s that?”, she asked. I enjoyed her already, she does well asking questions and allows for my “verbal vomiting.” Which is directed her way, “Well it’s the cyclical human nature, the despair versus the joy. How when embraced they can create such passion like Kafka or Vonnegut, though, like most it has its negatives as well as positive. Kafka forced himself into such agony and Vonnegut gave into despair on the brink of the Iraq war.”

The same love of humanity and despair, I feel I share. I look at the world, from an Americans perspective. We have two wars, Libyan bombings and whatever other endeavors or investments seem to be occurring in the world. Civilian casualties left to simple mathematical faults. Yet I am no soldier one can argue. I have never nor shall I ever see war. I live a comfy suburean lifestyle. These luxuries I can’t nor shan’t refute.”

Those things just baffle me, even if it’s for some greater good to do such heinous and blasphemous actions... what is the cost? Not a cost to us, but to the future? What footprint is it we leave? I can lead and leave my own print, but it is at a mass, eras are judged in time frames.”

On a stronger note: If deeds with good intentions instill in themselves hardships for the right. What does one expect from justifying right through ‘ends justifying the means’ process.” She stops me there, “What do you mean? Elaborate.” I move back on the couch and lean my head to the side, “I call it my barrel theory.” She jots some stuff down, “Explain.”

I rattle my brain a moment, to line up the story necessary, to make my point, “Well, it takes a tale, a few years back. I was living in Colorado at the time, so seldom I would get word from back home. One story hit me deeply. While there I was dating a girl who was the poster gal of the ministry department. And she was being fired, supposedly for teaching social justice, leftist, liberal crap. In a place where, unluckily for her, the towns people made their living at the armory. With the wars going on, they prospered far more than the automotive capital in the country. I’m not saying that’s some proletariat versus the bourgeoisie, socialist agenda. It’s just the honest to god’s truth.

Doing what seemed best or seemed right at the time felt ridiculous (sometimes, my right isn’t the Right.) When it rains it pours, it’s darkest just before dawn, all those typical things. I digress, the church I worked at in Colorado had asked me to leave, mainly because I was confused. The youth leader taught Calvinist Tulip and pastor was Wesleyan. Two different doctrines. And I’m overly analytical, I don’t blame them. The situation left me more unsettled. Wondering if I can ever truly coexist anywhere.

Back to my friend, He and his amigos in excitement for his twenty two years of life were out partying. Because of work schedules they had to wait two extra days. A build up to make the party extra crazy. Sounded like a riot, they went to several bars through out the evening. They ended up at two different houses of friends for more good times, good food, and good drinks of course.

But, sadly, all grand times had to end, it was getting late. But in such a state though he didn’t realize the good twenty minutes from home he was. Thinking this was his neighborhood, he decided to walk. One can only imagine how far gone he was. So, twenty minutes away from home and two blocks in the wrong city. He figures, his ‘neighbors’ could help him out. Point him homeward bound. As luck would have it or coincidence, there is two sides of this story.

The man inside:
Someone was anxious all day awaiting his doom. He owed and he owed big. Sweaty palms, trying to go through the day, not to worry the wife. Buying groceries, each dime spent only leaves him cringing more and more.

'Tis tough keeping up a household these days. Money has to come from somewhere and he only a month ago hit pay dirt, the giving tree. Sadly, no one foresaw the future, loss of the stock market and failings world wide. ‘Too big to fail.’ they said. All of it gone and loans shall be repaid. Times get desperate. Desperate times call for desperate measures, they've also been known to say. The man inside was awaiting the loan shark, whom was out on the prowl. Looking to muss up all who had debts to pay. And the man inside trying to keep his house and home from the shambles the shark types reap. He waits, itchy finger on the barrel.

I heard, in a shark attack if you hit him on the nose, he’ll back off. Like training a dog, neither of these I’ve done.

These two mens stories now entangle:
Drunk guy eying down the barrel, he just so happened to ring at the wrong time. Looking for home while the man inside hoped in only to keep life together, hastily shoots the newcomer.

Dawn nowhere insight, though the physical sun rises. All good things come to an end, a screeching halt even.

Finding the barrel.
Eyeing you cross-eyed.
A staring contest.

The cyclonic human nature of some greater good. Coincidence, unlucky, sin, predestined, even innocent civilians in crossfire. Friendly fire. Doesn’t matter how it’s defined, the feeling lingers in such a great out reaching pain. Singing Dylan’s lyrics, ‘it’s a hard, it’s a hard rains a-gonna fall.’”

Friday, April 1, 2011

"An actual journal entry? Oh your god!"

Life has been, new as of late and I cannot complain. Change is always tough to grasp at first and if I am honest, it's still settling in my bones. From time to time I crave what I once knew, but that is to be expected. It's only when I really let it sink in that I realize, I am only seeking comfort and how settled I felt. Which is good and great, but not always healthy. I hope we all have bright and better futures ahead of us. What else do I expect? Everyone I know is talented, they'll do just fine. I just hope I can do the same. And new experiences are great as well and I had two of those in one trip! The weekend was pretty fantastical... I just won't share it here. Because I don't feel like typing it all out. Just because I'm awesome. Enjoy the photos that go along with this, actual journal update here on this very site that you are on... ha.

I have decided to start going to a counselor, I figured it's about time anyhow. The best comment I heard about it was, "I suppose it's best you work it out now, so you don't have to deal with it once you're older." That's a great point. I'm down with counseling. So we shall see how it goes, still nervous about it all. I felt weird answering certain questions like, from one to five how depressed do you get. Which is a point system based on just how bad it can be... to me is like comparing it to other people in what is a norm of depression? I'm not sure I'd be there if I knew what normal was, I mean I feel that I'm normal but that is only because I don't know what it's like to be anybody else. Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be me.

I read today that Vonnegut said, If it's clear when you are writing, your mind most likely doesn't work the way you think it does.

This is one of the few times I write and don't, edit, edit, edit... mumble to myself what I wrote... edit, edit.. throw away and start it all over again. I feel as though writing is one of the few things I'm really good at. I can play music, make jokes, shoot movies, act... but writing is what I really enjoy doing. Only because I can see progress in it and well, I enjoy sharing. There is nothing like taking an adventure and creating a story based on reality and fiction. It feels good, spiritual even. To take people you know and situations, analyze them to make sense in some fantasy realm. Everything seems more real to me while I perform a delicate operation, cutting life open and carefully extracting what I want. Then in a Frankenstein manner, I create a new living breathing creature, one of my creation and perception. A monster of what it is I see in my daily life. How I see me and everyone else, both a gift and curse. Just as anything in life can be.

Also, the pictures don't really go with what I'm writing... I just like to look at them. (Borrowing a few from Mon-mon.)

Well, I don't know what else I can really update here... I never really keep a steady journal in the sense of laying myself out there. Normally it's in prose, story form or random nonsense... so I have no real layout and I love me some structure! My own structure, but structure none the less.I am excited for whatever is to come and I love the people I know. Though, I do expect everyone to leave me constantly, I never really want to allow myself to believe it. Each time I say I know no one will leave or get annoyed with me, it seems to happen. I'm not sure how else to look at life, perhaps it's my despair and self-conscious behavior that makes me so cynical. I wish to change that, hopefully with writing and counseling I can find a good medium of focusing my cynicism into writing, keeping people involved in my world. Being heard finally like Holden Caufield. Making sure the reader doesn't leave thinking they wasted a moment of time, I apologize if you feel you wasted time reading this. ahaha I'm not gonna read over this nor edit it. If I do that it wouldn't be a free flowing journal entry as I wished it to be. I will end on a picture of myself! So, until we talk one on one again, latez.

p.s. If anyone reads this that knows me or just knows of me through reading, what was your first perception of me? First thoughts during our first meeting.