Scraps

My internet went out this morning, and having nothing else to do I started sorting through the random files on my computer.  I came across a few different things that have been written to me over the past year or so that have held some sort of meaning, so I figured why not share some of them, maybe anybody reading can pull some interest or significance from them as well.

To start off we have an excerpt of something my graffiti writer friend Moze2 once wrote me.  Moze is a pretty abstract guy and always has something interesting to say.  This was written to me shortly before I had to intervene in his attempted suicide.  Moze is doing better these days and lives in Atlanta. 

"Nirvana can be a beautiful place even if it is in the room of a 17 year old law breaking loser. it mmade me think. i dont want to be herre. i want to live in the woods far away from everyone. my dream day changed at the moment. i no longer wanted to be in the city for that one pperfect day. i wanted to be, on the outside of a tent. in october while its raining. the water hitting the tent like little angry fists shunning its existance. then falling off the tent and landing in a puddle next to my head. im laying on my back staring straight up but no water hits my eyes and i'm... happy. ha. i havent a care in the world on that one day... not my wet clothes. not the temperature. nothing. am i that close to insanity."

Haven't spoken to him in awhile. I think I'll write him later today.

Next we have a poem written to me by Sarah.  It's sweet :]

We live in a world of robots. 

Mechanized, well oiled machines.

Inside, gears turn, perpetuated in metal aesthetics--

yes, we live in a world of clones.

Each face baring the same plastic smile, each laugh empty, and every breath, the same.

And then, there is you. 

Made of flesh, and bone, and sinew.

Warm, and full of life.

You, with a mind like the ocean.

And a heart as warm as the sun.

You, in your skin. In your smile.

And even your flaws. Making you...

More perfect than robotically possible.

This next one is written by Joshua Neil Geissler.  A little background is required for this.  Joshua Geissler is a musician, under the name Worrytrain.  When I first heard his music I enjoyed it quite a lot, and after listening to it for a few weeks I decided to write him.  So I sent him quite a long message via Myspace telling him I appreciated the music and so on.  He replied with a message asking me for my address.  A few weeks later I received a package in the mail with a few albums, and a handwritten letter.  Me and Joshua have kept in touch since them, he's a very deep and introspective person.  Check him out at these places-

http://www.worrytrain.com

http://www.myspace.com/worrytrain

Here is the letter he wrote me, I tried to type it out exactly how it's written, copying the capitalization and punctuation as he wrote it.

Jackson, sorry I could not fit more inside This package.

Thank you again for writing me. Because I wouldn't know.

There is no way for me to know even if I Really wanted To If people

listen to it on a Regular Basis or if it affects anyones Life. I Just do it.

Because I cannot stop doing it

Just like we did not chose to be born. but we were.

Collecting things I know to be true

or atleast probable i should say.

I shouldn't use Truth lightly.

anywheres Here we are.

trying to know things. to understand our own Life experience.

Man in A chair at the bottom of

the ocean

Sorting drugs from Natural Feelings

Goodnight children.

-J