By Tom H. Brooks 3
ANOTHER MAGNIFICENT VOLUME FOR THOSE WITH A.D.D.
MORE FUN THAN A BARREL OF MONKEYS
THE BOOK OF APHORISMS
Summer of 2003
Follow the White Rabbit
“I am one of those who live
in the middle of the sea
close to the twilight…
The day had spread itself
and everything was light,
and the sea was beating
like a salty lion, many-handed.
All that deserted space was singing
and I, lost and awed, thought,
here I will begin my own rejoicing,
my own particular poetry.
From then on I was never
let down by a single wave.
I always found the flavor of the sky
in the water, in the earth…”
A man says yes without knowing
how to decide even what the question is,
and is caught up, and then is carried along
and never again escapes from his own cocoon;
and that`s how we are, forever falling
into the deep well of other beings;
and one thread wraps itself around our necks,
another entwines a foot, and then it is impossible…
impossible to move except in the well–
nobody can rescue us from other people.
It seems as if we don`t know how to speak;
it seems as if there are words which escape,
which are missing, which have gone away
and left us to ourselves,
tangled up in snares and threads.
And all at once, that`s it;
We no longer know what it`s all about,
but we are deep inside it,
and now we will never see with the
same eyes as we once did when
we were children playing.
Now those eyes are closed to us,
now our hands emerge from different arms.
And therefore when you sleep,
you are alone in your dreaming,
and running freely through the corridors
of one dream only, which belongs to you.
Oh, never let them come to steal our dreams.
Never let them entwine us in our bed.
Let us hold onto the shadows
to see if, from our own obscurity,
we emerge and grope along the walls,
lie in wait for the light,
to capture it, till,
once and for all time,
it becomes our own,
the sun of every day.”
Standard Hotel, Downtown LA….I love that fresh hotel towel smell…
it reminds me of countless places passed through on the way somewhere
else; motels, hotels and dives, free, driving across the spiderweb of lost
highways that entangle America. Nostalgia, derived from the scent of a towel….
“Do not expect too much of the end of the world.”
The following is by Stephen King, on his strange mixed feelings of dissatisfaction with
the reasons for the popularity of his internet E-book, Riding the Bullet…
“…all the guys in ties wanted to know was, `How`s it doing? How`s it selling?` How to tell them
I didn`t give a flying fuck how it was doing in the marketplace, that what I cared about was how
it was doing in the reader`s heart?
I gradually realized that I was seeing yet another example of creative ebb, another step by another
art on the road that may indeed end in extinction. There is something weirdly decadent about
appearing on the cover of a major magazine simply because you used an alternate route into the
marketplace. There is something even weirder about realizing that all those readers might have
been a lot more interested in the novelty of the electronic package than they were in what was
INSIDE the package. Do I want to know how many of the readers who downloaded Riding the Bullet
actually read the story? I do not. I suspect I might be extremely disappointed.
E-publishing may or may not be the wave of the future; about that I care not a fiddler`s fart, believe
me. For me, going that route was simply another way of trying to keep myself fully involved in
the process of writing stories. And then getting them to as many people as possible.”
On short stories…
“For me, there are few pleasures so excellent as sitting in my favorite chair on a cold night with
a hot cup of tea, listening to the wind outside and reading a good story which I can complete
in a single sitting.”
I am 34 years old but I have been sleeping almost half my life, so really, I am only 21….
it`s a good way to delude yourself into thinking you`re younger, anyhow….
I wouldn`t cross the street to piss on you if you were on fire.
People say they hate their marriage, but they stay together and argue anyway.
They say they hate their job but they continue to kill themselves slowly doing it,
the same routine, day after day, until death.
People say, “I don`t like this movie,” but they continue to waste their time watching
these stupid movies because they can`t find anything better to do.
Their feeble brains have almost completely lost the capacity for original thought.
What the fuck is wrong with us?
Do we like punishing ourselves?
Do we enjoy paid slavery?
CARPE DIEM!! SEIZE THE DAY!!
Open your fucking eyes and do something with yourself, and for Chrissakes, do it quick,
before it`s too late!
some facetime with sweet lady brick
I went to see the movie, The Italian Job, at Chinese Theatre, got some popcorn, watched the
previews and then suddenly decided to skip the movie and got a cash refund and went home
for a beer…
Why do old people always stick their gnarled fingers into pay phone coin returns? Are they that
cheap? I`m sorry, but a nickel doesn`t buy you a steak dinner anymore like it might have in 1934,
Grandpa Moses. If you see me doing that someday, go ahead and SHOOT ME….
the belly of the beast
of the City…
the subway is
through the center of it…
“The New Atlantis”
“Only for you, children of doctrine and learning, have we written this work. Examine
the Book, ponder the meaning we have dispersed in various places and gathered
again; What we have concealed in one place we have disclosed in another, that it
may be understood by your wisdom.”
Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim
“De Occulta Philosophia”
“Never again will I go from one bar to another, disintegrating alien spacecraft with tracer bullets.
This is far more beautiful: here you disintegrate thoughts instead of aliens. The screen is a galaxy
of thousands and thousands of asteroids, all in a row, white or green, and you have created them
yourself. Big bang, 7 days, 7 minutes, 7 seconds, and a universe is born before your eyes,
a universe in constant flux, where sharp lines in space and time do not exist. No constraining
laws of thermodynamics. The letters bubble indolently to the surface, they emerge from nothingness
and obediently return to nothingness, dissolving like ectoplasm. It`s an underwater symphony of
soft linkings and unlinkings, a gelatinous dance of self-devouring moons…”
“The extension of light into the void…”
“I been uptown
I been downtown
I been all around
I`m the Changeling
see me change….”
“Looking at your Crystal Ball…
what do you see?”
I`m not gonna sit here and blow sunshine up your ass…
Bateman`s IQ is only half his shoe size…
Just sitting on the train, sprawled out with my feet on the seat. I am looking out the window,
watching the darkness pass by when my reverie is rudely interrupted…it`s a soldier from the
Sheriff`s Department. He says, “Are you comfortable?” I say sorry and take my feet off
the seat. No argument from me. Little does he know that my pockets hold enough herb
to smoke out the entire population of girls at the local Chinatown high school and the bag
next to me holds enough illegal explosive fireworks to blow up half of Yucca….
I`m wandering around Old Pasadena with no clue of where I am, which is a very rare thing for me.
A perfect adventure, ME being lost in LA. I am searching for the Huntington Library and somehow,
I know I will find it within the hour….
Pasadena; tree-lined avenues with colorful flowers and the smell of gardenias on a misty morning…
“Bad literature brings no redemption.”
“I live my life a quarter mile at a time.”
“Fast and Furious”
this place is a HOASIS
“I see the girls go by dressed in their summer clothes,
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes…”
The Rolling Stones
On my way to work at 7:30am on a misty Sunday. I`m watching all the cops harass all the junkies and
scumbags. If I were to guess what the pigs call this process, I`d say it was called `morning clean-up.`
June 8th, 2003
From the beginning of this gloomy day, there has been nothing but aggression. Some muscle-bound
psycho at Jack in the Box at dawn wanted to fight me for some unknown reason. It was too early for
that kind of shit so my temper was on the razor`s edge. I almost picked up a metal chair and crushed
his fat, steroid, hammy face, but then thought better of it. Honking cars outside, cursing out car windows,
bums screaming at their personal demons on gloomy and dirty streets. Sometimes, I hate this fucking city…
At the end of a miserable day, the last thing I remember is lying in my bed trying to fall asleep with my
black blanket over my face and my headphones on listening to “Wild Horses.”
All the girls I meet lately have boyfriends and husbands. I`ve been alone for so long now that it almost
makes sense. I get cold, very cold at the core of my being, like I`m a single cell drifting aimlessly as
the chaotic and cruel universe whirls relentlessly around me…
June 9th, 2003…..8:45am
I`ve been up since 6, eaten breakfast Downtown at a shitty McDonald`s on Hill Street, had a mocha at
California Plaza and watched the suits going to and fro while reading Umberto Eco. Walked around
and now I am sitting at the rooftop Standard pool. I am trying to swim my blues away even though
it is cool and misty. I do more before 9am than most people do all day.
Twice today, I could have died stepping into intersections without looking, even with a green walk signal…
A truck AND a Metro bus both ran red lights on two separate occasions and they missed me by a narrow
2 or 3 foot margin. I guess it`s just not my time….yet….
HEAD IN THE CLOUDS
I`ll put your head in a sling…
“rosy-fingered dawn gently caresses the waves…”
June 10th, 2003, 8:40pm
My fireworks show (Dave is my partner in crime) brings cop cars and a ghetto bird helicopter which does
two laps around our building with the spotlight…..ANARCHY!!
some places have more magic than others…
“Cowards die many times
before their deaths…”
“The Prince of Darkness is surely a gentleman….”
“Give me convenience
give me death…”
“You only understand what you want to understand.”
Naturally, you have to know your own attributes, your own strong points, the sources
of your own personal magnetism, the magic touch. How can one give to the world
if one doesn`t know what he has to give?
The Navel of the World
Masters of the World
“The Broken Bridge and the Dream”
“I`d rather die than reveal the secret of My Art…”
“If our eyes could see the demons that populate the universe
around us, existence would be impossible.”
“I was so much older then,
I`m younger than that now…”
“When I Paint My Masterpiece”
Listen, don`t give me a bunch of shit
if I can`t tell WHAT TYPE of African or Asian or Latino you are!
I bet you can`t tell me WHAT TYPE of white guy I am!
AND WHO THE FUCK CARES ANYWAY?!?
Well, I`m pleasantly sedated and I`m off to work….
Marijuana; the only way to get through Marmalade Cafe….
“The definition of beauty is easy;
It is what leads to desperation…”
“I know the moon is troubling;
Its pale eloquence is always
such a meddling,
I know the pearl sheen of
the sheets remains the screen
I`ll draw back against the night.
I know all of those silences
invented for me approximate
those real silences I cannot
lose to daylight…
I know the orchid smell
of your skin
the way I know the
blackened path to the marina
when gathering clouds
obscure the summer moon
just as I know the
chambered heart where I begin.
I know too, the lacquered jewel box,
the obsidian patina;
the sexual trumpeting of the
diving, sweeping loons…
I know the slow combinations
of the night and the glow
deepening the shadows of
all I do not know…”
David St. John
“Exile and the Kingdom”
Yucca Corridor Blues
OH, I`M SORRY…
YOU MUST HAVE
WHO GIVES A SHIT…
Copy, roger that, over, 10/4, over…
“never hesitate to put a nigga on his back…”
Dre/Snoop “The Chronic”
drive so fast,
in their shiny
through the woods
of steel and glass,
Please come see me…
in the Citadel…”
The Rolling Stones
So, I met a Hell`s Angel in jail who wanted to give me a formula to make speed
and tell me how to make $2000.00 in a couple of days….
but, I wasn`t sure I could trust him….he had no friends on the outside. I wonder why?
Alright, you caught me. I`m secretly rich $$$. I`m only living on Yucca for a sociological experiment…
Oh, Bateman, how I treasure your clever little comments…
My cup runneth over…
Bateman, get to the back of the bus!!
“I`ve gone to great lengths to expand my threshold of pain;
I will use my mistakes against you.”
guest on a Tool album
I`d like to move into the realm of popular fiction (as a character)
We spend our whole lives trying to figure out who we are.
Oh well, EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF….
“All these veteran heads keep telling me to get off the speed because
it`s dangerous, but every time I have something to say to them late at
night they`re passed out.”
Hunter S. Thompson
“…understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in the water
with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow.”
YOU KNOW NOTHING,
I didn`t write that.
When you think about it, it`s really funny to walk by White Lotus nightclub on a busy Sat. night,
everyone dressed in their finest trendy clothes—and I`m wearing swim trunks, a wife beater,
and sandals. What a beach bum. Fuck `em…
“Tangled Up in Blue”
Throwing knives, AGAIN, on the rooftop with Dave Polston. We are making an ungodly ruckus. When we
make the knife stick in the board, it`s ok. But when we miss…..well, then there is the CRASH and the CLATTER!!
The crazy lady downstairs is pissed and she`s screaming out her window but we just laugh and scream back. And,
of course, we keep throwing our knives relentlessly. The neighbors can thank “Gangs of New York” for this, that`s
right, just call up old Marty Scorsese and see what he has to say about it. I`ll bet he`d just laugh. But then again,
he doesn`t have to live in the same building as us. If we`re not throwing knives, we`re screaming gibberish off the
roof at people on the street; or we`re playing REALLY LOUD MUSIC; or we`re setting off small bombs in the street
(seriously, one of them is called THE DISRUPTOR….HA!) We will not stop until the drugs wear off or we pass out
drunk and until then, you can all just go fuck yourselves. If you want silence, you should not live in Hollywood.
This is no place for the faint of heart. This is a place for crazies and lunatics and people who seize life by the throat
and choke it into submission. This is a place for chaos. The LAPD ghetto bird helicopter flies over and circles
as we continue throwing knives. If we were wearing robes and turbans, they would think we were running a terrorist
training camp up here. But we are just white dudes in swim trunks with beer and knives, surely as dangerous
and perhaps more crazy than any “terrorist.” We are simply NOISE terrorists. We are drunk and angry and we WILL NOT STOP.
The key today is
I live beyond space and time……..for today, anyway….
Sitting on the roof in the sun. Somewhat windy with scattered clouds. A SWARM of fucking bees just flew
right over my head….with purpose!
Hollywood……a pit of vipers
“The dead are so close,
they can hear us.
Ah, but you see,
in New Orleans, we never
really leave them out…”
The wall between the living and the dead is breaking down…
There are certain things that are better left unsaid…
Nobody knows the realm I live in…
YOU DIRTY BIRD…
How have we come so far
To this lush Equator…?”
“The eternity of diamond consciousness makes this Herculean task
seem almost worth the price of admission.”
What a bunch of fucking degenerates…
that includes us…
The further the train goes,
the further I go…
Ever since my trip to deepest Mexico, I have developed into a pyromaniac of the highest order.
I love the power of fire, its energy and potential and mystery and chaos. Now don`t get the
idea that I want to burn your house down, for this is not the case.
I`ll never forget each day down there in Mexico, gathering wood and by night, building a
HUGE pyramid of flammable materials and then watching it explode into flame on those
warm tropical nights, fighting off mosquitoes, smoking joints, drunk on tequila and hearing
the train roar and whistle past the graveyard and deeper into the dark of night. And always,
the primal celebration of fire and the blue heart at its center…
Later, when the fire was just dying embers, I would sit quietly and listen to the crackle of its final
gasps and the crickets and the silence of the night…
And NOW….the Yucca Street Fireworks show is about to start. Watch the old white folks complain
over the BIG BOOM of the DISRUPTOR, watch the blacks drop, tuck and roll, thinking they hear
gunshots ( “so hit the floor, nigga!”), watch the Mexicans stare in rapt amazement and hear their
kids laughing and clapping and yelling. The crowds gather for our (Dave and I) pyrotechnic wizardry
and then disperse as the sirens near. The helicopter flies above, as usual, with the spotlights
zig-zagging across the street, nothing to see here, pigs. We`re all inside now, laughing and taking
heavy bong rips. Go ahead and bring your firetrucks. There are no fires here. Go ahead and question
our Mexican friends across the street. They will say nothing, their kids love our shows, it lights
up their whole week. “Yo no say nada,” they say. “No Habla Ingles,” they say. And we will all emerge
from our caves after the smell of bacon has left the street below.
The next morning, I lit a 7-shooter in the morning sunlight, and dropped it in the middle of the road. Thing
starts whistling and with an almost dreamlike slow motion, it comes shooting at me like a missile in 3-D,
an in-your-face effect if I`ve ever seen one. With cat-like reflexes, I dodged and it exploded midair off
to my right with a proper BOOM!! I fucking laughed myself to work, made a bunch of cash and came home
and did it all again.
YOUR PAST IS WHAT MAKES YOU WHAT YOU ARE
So many familiar faces and locals now in Hollywood. My time here has made me know all of them. I see so
many people; I know where they work, where they shoot up, the homeless, the workers in the stores on the
Boulevard, the hookers, the junkie scumbags that would stab you for a rock. I see the old crippled Vietnam
Vet who polishes the stars on Hollywood Blvd. all day everyday. It is strange and amazing to live in the vortex,
in the heart of it…
every stoner finds a way to get high
for shits and giggles…
GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER
AND I`LL NEVER CALL YOU
LET`S EXCHANGE CELL NUMBERS
AND THEN NEVER CALL EACH OTHER
“word to your mutha…”
drop the bombs
watch the monkeys run
whatever you sellin`, mothafucka,
I ain`t buyin` it….
but don`t live in the past.
ALWAYS MOVE FORWARD
IF YOU CAN`T FIND ALL THE ANSWERS,
AT LEAST MAKE PEACE WITH THE QUESTIONS…
Another Hollywood Night, the dark is upon me. Ahhh, the possibilities for mischief, for love, for trouble,
for endless things…..what to do, I say, what to do? With so many options, I just sit here listening to
X “Los Angeles”, drinking a 40oz and writing this note to remember…
There is nothing wrong
YOU HAVE A WAY WITH WORDS;
YOU KNOW HOW TO SLAUGHTER THEM.
is only a gift
if you appreciate it…
June 30th, 2003, 3:45am
Dave chokes Blake and puts him in a sleeper hold.
Blake deserved it and he knew it.
He always knows just how to push your buttons.
Love is everywhere.
15 minutes later, they`re getting along like nothing ever happened…
We all laugh and continue drinking beer through the night.
Naked girls swimming and giggling (I`m NOT kidding).
I just love fortuitous luck, when a day is tailor-made
for me, for my personal convenience and enjoyment.
Sipping Coronas and listening to an eclectic mix of
reggae, calypso, and Indian music while watching
the sexy girls frolic and smile at me.
How I get up in the morning, I will never know……
EVERYBODY`S TALKING BUT NOBODY`S
SAYING ANYTHING WORTH HEARING….
Fucking Marmalade Work Meetings are TORTURE!!
it`s worse than death. Yap yap yap, blah, blah, blah…
this guy is gonna drone on forever and I will slip away into oblivion, slowly fading away….
Far above the maddening crowds…..
on the rooftop…
“If you lose memory,
you lose everything.”
This is why I scribble in these books….
Everybody loves a winner…
“I would hate to forfeit my place as the wise and patient one. Anger is too painful for me.
Anger is too pathetic. It`s too much at a disadvantage always. I can`t act upon it. I can`t make it mine…”
“Difficile est saturam non scribere”
“It is difficult not to write satire.”
“Don`t make a religion of reason and logic. Because in the passage of time reason may fail you
and when it does, you may find yourself taking refuge in madness.”
“I wanna live
I wanna give
I`ve been a miner
for a Heart of Gold…
I keep searching
for a Heart of Gold…”
“Art is greater than Science because the latter proceeds by laborious accumulation and cautious reasoning,
while the former reaches its goal at once by intuition and presentation; science can get along with talent
but Art requires genius.”
THERE ARE NO ANSWERS
SAVE THE ONES
WE INVENT FOR OURSELVES…
“Do what thou wilt
is the whole of the law…”
what do we have to do but kill time?
I guess we`re all just waiting for the grave…
my mind is a wealth of images. I can close my eyes and BE ANYWHERE. I can evoke any image of any place
in any time. the world is in my mind, entirely contained within, and in its own way, it is MUCH LARGER than my
“yo ho yo ho
a pirate`s life for me….”
DEAD MEN TELL MANY TALES
Riddle me This
“Stop Making Sense”
“It is totally illegal for me NOT to smoke herb. It is against my religion…”
Again, let`s do the LA thing and exchange numbers and never call each other…
My horoscope on 7/11/03
“Life will expand to the level you believe it can. Maybe it`s not too late
to become a bestselling author.”
or maybe a garbage man or a gravedigger or the guy who shovels elephant shit at the zoo!!
The wind is calling me somewhere far away beyond land`s end…
We`re all in charge of our own destinies (to some degree, anyhow…)
but truly, often enough,
I am the author of my own despair…
SORRY, I GOTTA GO….
MY A.D.D. JUST KICKED IN………