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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Adam's LiveJournal:

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Thursday, April 9th, 2009
3:49 am
baring the day
today when i was walking i noticed how un natural a city houston is.... there must be a reason why it wasn't untill the early nineteen hundreds that it became a city other than air  conditioning. most people who live in the city i guess that ive seen riding the busses suffer from the allergens spread in the air almost throughout every season. Spring is always the worst for me, nowadays though when i was younger a bit less. there has always been something pretty unnatural to me about houston. Its almost unwalkable layout, its constant architecture. It seems that new stores or new anything are always making up for something that was never there. I guess something could happen now to where we could make some sort of history, but it seems that its doomed to stay one of the ugliest cities ive ever seen. This isnt easy to say at all since i pretty much spent my childhood here, as depraved as it was. I cant remember anything much else in this city that i felt growing up here other than fear. Im sure it has its historical districts and such but it has completely evaded me. id love for someone to show me where my city looks inhabitable. I should probaably spend more time in the heights, but living in montrose and not having a car kind of fucks that up. Menil park is beautiful and is probably one of my favourite places in the city, so i try and visit it only when theres something goin on. maybe i should start just going to read there or take the time to wander around and get lost. tommorow i have 2 job interviews and than my day is open. i dont wanna go have dinner with my father.
Its so dumb and arduous. I think im ready to leave soon. I still like this city but i cant stay here very much longer due to my health and my head health. i need to. get away from all this stuff. all the things that clutter peoples minds endlessly and for no reason. Im tired ot  aimlessly going to the cafes and talking about nothing all day... it seems i aint very good at it anyway. I need a new heart and a new place to rest it. I need to see trees and valleys and breath the air. need a different place. but it aint anyone im going back to. I want to see my mom but i dont need her and living there without purpose other than to hang around her is crossex out. I just need a place where i can rest for awhile and put thing back together in my head about whats imp kortant.

i hate looking at this screen and my back hurts...

Current Mood: curious
Wednesday, March 12th, 2008
1:51 am
this sucks
my life
is merde

haikus for the blues..
Wednesday, December 5th, 2007
6:34 pm
ok... its 3 am in the morning.. Kent st in Brooklyn, NY overlooking the EAST RIVER with big manhattan sticking out of blackness like the neon fortress that it is. Looking at the paper in my notebook which is laying in the cupholder. The keys to my small half room are sitting in the crack between the chair and the cupholder, but i am tottaly unaware of that. I am stuffing my hobo army jacket with clothing i brought from jersey to try and keep warm while lying down in the back seat. i close my eyes. Trucks pass every 5 minutes Rocking my Black Parked Chevy back and forth like a small cradle for a moment of bliss between the hours of cold biting at my legs. I'm telling myself i can do it, and it keeps getting colder, and i keep stuffing my jacket untill i realise that i wont be able to sleep in this for even 5 minutes. Sharon lives 5 minute walk away but she has a cat in her pants tonight so im in shivers. I finally turn on the car and start the radio. the 2 forms of heat begin but the car is frozen. I get it to start and pull out of the space. the east river dissapears and the slalom between the low rise box tenements of brooklyn begins.

Tommorow was the planned arrival time back to my house after a year of sleeping in foriegn cities. Today i am still sitting in new jersey. harnessing heat for the cold months ahead of me. I woke up today, in the morning and the ground was white and my keys were still gone but i was calm. After i logically thought about where the keys could be, (something that apparently i was incapable of doing yesterday) and found them, i than went back to the house to get my glasses so i could start off. But the glasses were gone, the snow was falling heavier, and the day grew dimmer as i searched under every crevice in my uncles basement 2 Br Apartment for the only thing that kept me from driving back south.

The last 2 weeks were painful and demented. The car smashed on Kent st. the drive back to my uncles in jersey. the bus from jersey back to NYC. The thanksgiving dinner with misses "Hai, How are you?". All of the hiding and beatles and blood and tears from my hands and eyes. Everytime these women take me for my mind and than send me back to my half room and sick bed to watch the clouds slowly parting over the projects across the street. The way they pull me in and than throw me out i cant understand. it seems ive been either growing uglier or getting slower. All the people that drive me mad with love and with hate stand spectators entertained and i am the tainted object of their amusement. slowly the restraints begin to soften and the mind begins to deteriorate. like a neglected flower. like a plastic flower. like a paper flower. The whole thing ended at 3:30 am last night on the steps of my uncles apartment.....

Not crucial though it would seemingly be appropriate to note some of the
Thursday, October 18th, 2007
12:12 am
Her Dress Goddamnit
Black coctail dress, she wore
upon him
he sat
hung eyes like hed missed
his whole life
in her
was nothing

Drunk and friends
and old scores
which i do not know
since i am a runner
so i reconcile
my own

I used to watch him
take his courage
leave him to write
my broken

they used to beat him
with a pipe
so hed sing
something sad
for them

Now lamenting on
silvery east winds
metallic drums
park holiness
fathers blessed
by sons and sons blessed by their
own forgiveness

"New Jersey before
the big winter" they said
and tied me to a pole and i
will watch the tearing of the seasons their
out of control

i am the beat holy blind elf horrid calf
with a cape and yellow blindness to burn and bare my hate
and she is a blanket of forgiveness and generality
i soothe myself in her

i watch her crumble into the dozens of parking lots
which sit in the streets waiting to be bought out
and owned by the black earth people

How much will i pay for my generousity in this
kingdom of slime, there is no taste or sound
or guru or sweet llaaaaadeedaa in your ear

nothing but the million drums of the poor
beaten with madness and
the holy horns of the rich
sitting silently in their glass

And everyone in between who is waiting
for something
to enter
and exit
for the last time

oh god and where is he and where are his children today
and what is warm is cold
and what is cold is scalding

we trace the lines of our life backward into the bluest
all this young "yofi" and madness

i cant even see the nest anymore i
try and its all tangled in the branches
and babes are born and are fed
by their destiny

meanwhile i grow
flowery all
covered with sweet nectar
and dust and winds
which bend and confuse me

and carcasses which hold sadness bright with belief
and young emptiness
for the young nothing but
hiding and trying
to make
love and
destroying conversations and
who miss everything
just sit with their heads all hung in the black out
of the finest woven
coctail dress
and her hand
pressed against your head
loving you like
she cant love
Monday, September 24th, 2007
2:47 am
Lately ive been trying to give up.. and it really isnt that hard... you just have to be really determined at it... No sun can change this.. its... scum... the real kind of breathing room they sell to you in back alleys.... Nobody wants to fix anything... everythings done... just done to be done... and thats how i feel now.. done... if i had any sense in me i would drop the guitar... if i had any sense in me i would write... and let the music be... You know, in these kind of places you really think about it so much... you think, how can so many people, at the very same time, be so stupid.. how can it function? I am a working artist.. they pay me to sit... the one thing im most terrified of... just sitting...

New york city... specifically brooklyn... is beautiful... like mad dreams... well lets say williamsburg.. haha ... old geometrical tenements all lined up.. as unimportant as the bricks they are composed of... only americans would pay out their ass just so they can live like poor european immigrants... hahahah.. i love it... i love the absurdist scenes played out in the area... the family parks filled with kids that looked like they just stepped off the set of some obscure movie about bohemianism in the 50s... its stimulating, it really is.... mike is quiet... eva cant stop talking... " Ahhhhh " and the steel stairs of the fire escape that hold the sill-flowers...
And i try not to think about evas legs when she talks... and i try not to adore her... and..
wait a second, since when do i try? since when do i care? this mind that was given to me.. how much has it really helped me since i moved here... maybe it got me some pussy.. ehh little bit... but what? While everyones just trying to put it out, im trying to light it up..
Still moving.. Still Breathing... still yearning

So heres to another night of pills, wine and impressions...
Gevench Year
Fuckin jews...
2:42 am
From Books
I returned to
Black Coffee
Employee phsychology

Hello America
how are you feeling toooday?
Friday, September 14th, 2007
11:52 pm
Fair weather
fairly demented man
standing on an open door
looking at the burning floor
looking at the corner mirror

fairly ugly child
running wonderful and wild
chewing hundreds of cabels a day
just to suck the life out of the way

Running blue green
long running deserts of dream
you walk a mile a mile a day
just to convince yourself to stay

If i ever had a bone
i would bury it alone
All these things that chase me
are meant to be gone

To create... to wait
Tuesday, September 4th, 2007
12:56 pm
One of the most important lines to remember....
"And Ill know my song well, before i start singin"
Sunday, June 24th, 2007
3:53 am
What a dream,
the water tearing at the rocks as three youths sit at the edge of the shore telling...
i dont remember the limbs of that boy, dont remember his laugh.. he was framed somewhere, across the atlantic. the picture vague, the words, the thoughts, even vaguer. He was brought up to think of himself as stupid, maybe ill figured, dreaming all the time and a pussy. he wouldnt fight ever. a reoccuring dream of raising his fist only to find his arm weak and powerless. he was the prince of nothing. Only darkness over the meditteranean and whispers and odes to confusion and carelessness. Thus spoke god, with unrelenting love and care for the forsaken and drifting.
The pilgrimage began every midnight. The green key turning in the lock, mother coughing her lungs out in her bed, or crying or something like that. steps out into the dark apartment hallway. Down the elevators, humming with something. out the door and into the empty AM streets with only eyes and heart. Walking, everyone and everything were spirits in the doorways, monsters in the dark alleys, but when they approached, they were like fragments of dreams. they were parts of god, angels from the deep valley. I talked to these people. these people were my family. the crazys of night. the arabs of the shore, working the marina. I watched everyone. the kids in the backs of yellow seats, working their way up to heaven in conversation. the silent beach.

i was warned not to leave my home by foot when i lived in houston as a child. it was too dangerous. too many men who were eager to kidnap a little boy. to take him away from his family and his home or chase him with knives into the night. Everywhere we went i was scared. scared of losing my mother in the middle of a supermarket more than she was scared of losing me. Awake all night in my little bed listening for noises from the kitchen. so many times completely sure someone was in the house. Someone with horrible plans on his mind like the murderers on the news who tore babies out of their mothers wombs for no reason. Horror would come for no reason. i would circle my parents bed untill daybreak, scared of the moonlight and the awful midnight dreams. Scared of noises and visions i could not control. scared of the blooming leafy life. the horrid garden of dementia. the roaches and spiders of will. they taught me how to talk.
Wednesday, June 20th, 2007
7:58 pm
NJ in 10
Houston, Baton Rouge, New Orleans,Mobile,Jacksonville......

Half the plan is now complete...
i will be driving to NJ in 10 days or so and beth will be accompanying me... Beth is a virginian writing mess that lives in austin and cannot talk... or maybe its different... maybe she can talk... im no0t sure... but to understand exactly whats going on with her... between her exaggerations.. is wierd.. its like someone continously overcompensating for silence... but its ok... she has her thing, i have mine, and that is what will give this ride a good engine... 6 hrs to baton rouge.... than 9 hours to jacksonville... stops scattered all over the place in between.. shall we take the turnpike? shall we take the ferry? who knows.... Lakewood is the last stop... than its traintime.. all the way to new york.. 4th of july celebrations.. wierd.. but a good idea.. now fill the car with the neccasary things like music and laughter and all those things we think well need.. and than fill it with whatever in the hell everyones always missing forever...
a destination...
Tuesday, May 15th, 2007
2:20 am
back to my own, the penny they called home
im sitting again
by the same old fire
thicker it burns
its harder on the eyes
on the chest
in the lungs black and beaten with such indifference

who are you to remember whos fault it was
and at what time it happened
where has it run to?
to its mother or father or sister or brother?
where has it run to?

does the doctor remember his patients?
does the dying man remember his flowers?
do the young sit in barb wire fences and talk of how great it is to be young?

i cant remember when i started counting
like fishes in the dead sea
you are completely certain you can hear them
but they're not there at all

they just lay on the beach
staring and talking
friends like angels in the sun
to release the madness of animal happiness
to understand the flavors of time
to return to stages before sex took your life away
hid your eyes from eachother
stretched itself over your existense

noone is haunted now
not by completion
not by extinction
not by cold reason

everything is tossed
on the mesmerizing beach
when you forgot happiness and became it
something oddly shaped and misfigured
deformed by its very existance

and what were you
who were you
where were you when they took it out
placed it in a plastic bag and said: "hey,
let me show you something!"

The Shape of things

hours and turns of days
digressing under the moonlight
seeing the patterns and wearing the patterns

believing that jazz still exists in the eyes and heart of every african american
the horns and the stray dogs
fighting off eachother
feeding on eachother
cutting up eachother
learning from eachother

sitting back to back in some cold dark room
the walls cracked and the fire engine screaming
"Go Go Go!!! you must save another!!"
another what?
you must save the engine
because the engine will not save you

in this part or place or conjunction
where the worms peek out of the still warm ground
we have a name for these people
thats it.
Saturday, March 24th, 2007
4:32 pm
no adrien
hot weather
bad dreams
Saturday, January 27th, 2007
4:35 pm
the library says.... moooooooo
Adrien is now where i stay when its cold out.. ...
tracks recorded... finding musicians...
this city has yet to show itself to me...
maybe i havent asked politely enough..

Tuesday, December 26th, 2006
3:37 am
Love is reaching, reaching love
Theres only one person who knows who i danced to mr tambourine man with.. and thats the person who i danced with....

back than i didnt have a clue

you probably didnt either

Merry Christmas

Im leaving friday
Friday, November 3rd, 2006
2:43 am
Austin and back
i love the music here... its bright and clear, cold and solid, whole and terrible... people dont stay very long... people get scared... or dont want to waste time.. which i can relate to.. and i understand... i used to never waste time.. i used to constantly be on the move... i loved my feet.. and my freedom.. these last two days were crazy... i thought i was gonna just go.. drive to austin and stay there and never come back... i wasnt meant to work at chilis... what kind of dignity am i suppose to keep... i love english and i love the poets here... i like writing music.. its grat and fun and stuff.. theres a huge audience to write for.. mostly the people who dont show up at my shows... the best i could do in this life is see more than i have... i know that soon ill be able to be off on my own.. live in austin and write and play shows and work and stuff.. i know that soon this stuff will come to an end.. i love houston... i dont have more than 2 or so friends.. but its ok.. theres no one really to talk to much... i keep wondering if i should go back to israel... live out the bum poet/songwriter lifestyle.. without a care of where my poetry or soingwriting will land or if it ever reaches the ears of anyone... i had these strange dreams the night i decided i was going to austin for good.. terrible and scary dreams.. dreams dreamt to detter me from making the move.. and they didnt.. i saw my freedom and wanted it so badly.. and i couldve done it.. but at the last second... i had nothing to say.. i realized it wasnt time yet.. and that things could be a lot easier later with alot more options... i made the long drive back i wasnt counting on making.. and when i got back.. i realized that i was ready for the move.. my heart had hardened into coal and i was ready to take on anything and i just gave up... first time i failed to follow through something i was completely certain of.. and thats not a good sign... i bought a tim buckley record at waterloo records and a daniel johnston cd... both are now laying on my bed and on my floor... my guitar was first and foremost coming back...
i wrote another song and than put it down.. i need sleep.. im gonna go to work tommorow... should i go back to israel? what am i doing here? whats wrong with me and why is everything failing to make sense at this point? what should i do after work? should i come home and do nothing? should i go out to a show i dont even have the money for.. i wish i had more friends i could talk to instead of writing in this humiliating format... i hate this.. its bullshit.. i need a present much more than i need a past...
go to sleep
come see me play
of certainty..

be kind
Adam Bricks

Current Mood: discontent
Wednesday, November 1st, 2006
12:32 am
1/2 sa(i)d
Well, Frankie Lee and Judas Priest
They were the best of friends
So when Frankie Lee needed more money one day
Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens
And placed them on a footstool
Just above the plotted plain
Sayin', "Take your pick, Frankie Boy
My loss will be your gain".

Well, Frankie Lee, he sat right down
And put his fingers to his chin
But with the cold eyes of Judas on him
His head began to spin
"Would ya please not stare at me like that", he said
"It's just my foolish pride
But sometimes a man must be alone
And this is no place to hide".

Well, Judas he just winked and said
"All right, I'll leave you here
But you'd better hurry up and choose
Which of those bills you want
Before they all disappear"
"I'm gonna start my pickin' right now
Just tell me where you''ll be".

Judas pointed down the road
And said, "Eternity"
"Eternity ?" said Frankie Lee
With a voice as cold as ice
"That's right", said Judas Priest, "Eternity
Though you might call it Paradise"
"I don't call it anything"
Said Frankie Lee with a smile
"All right", said Judas Priest
"I'll see you after a while".

Well, Frankie Lee, he sat back down
Feelin' low and mean
When just then a passing stranger
Burst upon the scene
Saying, "Are you Frankie Lee, the gambler
Whose father is deceased ?
Well, if you are
There's a fellow callin' you down the road
And they say his name is Priest".
"Oh yes, he is my friend"
Said Frankie Lee in fright
"I do recall him very well
In fact, he just left my sight"
Yes, that's the one", said the stranger
As quit as a mouse.
"Well, my message is, he's down the road
Stranded in a house".

Well, Frankie Lee he panicked
He dropped ev'rythimg and ran
Until he came up to the spot
Where Judas Priest did stand
"What kind of a house is this", he said
"Where I have come to roam ?"
"It's not a house", said Judas Priest
"It's not a house, it's a home".

Well, Frankie Lee he trembled
He soon lost all control
Over ev'rything which he had made
While the mission bells did toll
He just stood there starring
At that big house as bright as any sun
With four and twenty windows
And a woman's face in ev'ry one.

Well, up the stairs ran Frankie Lee
With a soulful bounding leap
And foaming at the mouth
He began to make his midnight creep
For sixteen nights and days he raved
But on the seventeenth he burst
Into the arms of Judas Priest
Which is where he died of thirst.

No one tried to say a thing
When they carried him out in jest
Except of course, the little neighbor boy
Who carried him to rest
And he just walked along alone
Whit his guilt so well concealed
And muttered underneath his breath
"Nothing is revealed".
Well, the moral of the story
The moral of the song
Is simply that one should never be
Where ones does not belong
So when you see your neighbor carryin' somethin'
Help him with his load
And don't go mistaking Paradise
For that home across the road.
Saturday, October 28th, 2006
2:10 am
oh mama, is this really the end?!
and me i nearly got busted
and wouldnt it be my luck
to be caught without a ticket
and be discovered beneath a truck

thank you diana

i almost forgot it was friday....

Current Mood: awake
Monday, October 23rd, 2006
1:03 am
(Im not here, this is not happening)
ohhh what is goin on here... jesus christ...

wtf is going on here

(i want out)

Current Mood: tired
Sunday, September 24th, 2006
3:46 am
whatever colors you have
stay lady stay,
stay while the night is still ahead....
Monday, September 18th, 2006
8:11 pm
its time to move on....

next week... im visiting austin ....

in a few months... ill be moving there

havent heard from anyone in a very long time...

but hey.. i dont blame them... i dont blame you...

you feel i have nothing to offer you... and you couldn care less..
and thats fine

to say the truth i possibly have 1 friend...

that right now doesnt even want to be here..

i work.. i drive back home.. go have cofee sometimes... in the village.. dcont go to agora anymore simply because its just dissapointing without people to hang out with....

but hey.. im growin and i cant say that ive tried so very hard to keep people close.. maybe for now its for the better...

im reading a whole bunch.. baudelaire's "flowers of evil" and jean paul satre's essay on baudelaire...

im so healthy...
so young...
but so tired...

i know theres no use in whining.... i just wanted anyone and noone to know that im out, and ive been out for a while and maybe before i expected someone to come pull me back in, but now i dont... and i wont because it only does damage...

i love singing... love playing.. love performing.. but dont have any shows coming up...

i will continue to sing and perform and put my heart into the art of my choice...

maybe ive long accepted the fact that noone dare sleep beside me...

but thats beyond the point, there is reason and its pointing out. .. out of crumbling marraiges, out of bullshit homes... out of dumbass fucking useless morals... and out of solitude...
the hunger strike is over

ill be seeing you soon... or never
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