it's the right of passage that i seek

any amount of anything is still more than nothing.

what can you say to the clenching of your fists? watching as your knuckles turn white. there can’t really be a man, if he doesn’t exist. he passes me in the halls and rarely in my dreams.

the smile tells me to never underestimate the power of denial. anybody can be a stranger and any moment can become unfamiliar. those you loved, can betray you. “it’s all a fucking mess”, we manage to whisper to ourselves. convincing others that channels scramble due to outside frequencies.

we create our own disasters. at least that’s what you told me, when you created mine. lies become lies as soon as you seek your version of truth. your mass statements of glory and rigid searching of morals, can be defined as anything, but the truth. the truth never hurts as much as lies do.

noble was the man who once walked these halls, but dark were his eyes as he explained me.

if only you could recognize that mass amount of storage you keep vacant. filled that void with some worth and the emptiness shall subside. how does a man that does not exist measure his worth? apparently against my made up schemes. you can’t embrace what you’ve been through in life and therefore you need my bullshit to measure your worth. it’s the elaborated shame that keeps me real and my mistakes that me undeniably human enough to feel.

i have learned to learn and it’s the right of passage that i seek. i’ll never get it, for how can a man be a man, if he ceases to exist? just look at my white knuckles of my clenching fists. i can’t insist that you didn’t do this. oh fuck it, he is just another man that passes me in the halls. at least i think so. it’s a burden of tunnels that i doubt ever end. i don't recommend that you take that route, but if you do, won’t you just acknowledge me, next time you pass me, dear friend?

music video: excuses for skipping by the print factor©

what? a new music video by yours truly, the print factor©

who? excuses for skipping ////*there is an older blog post with an interview i did with EFS and pictures from their cd release show** if you want to know more..

song? "decision to be normal" *i actually choose this one out of the choices given to me. some reasons are obvious, the title says it all and others simply just have to do with fucking liking that song the best.. which, by now, trust that i know it by heart.

etc; obviously i wish i could display higher quality, but ya know how it is.., so, with that said... the print factor© presents:

excuses for skipping
"decision to be normal"

'thank you' n' other nice shit:
THANX! to all the ladies in EFS. tammy, linda, allison and wendy, for being great sports and an all around good time. for choosing, hiring and for believing in the print factor©, to make this video! you guys rule! your support means sooo much to me and i always feel honored when you guys choose the print factor© for any of your graphic needs! you guys are all amazing people and dear friends of mine! it's been a blast getting to know you all even better through this shoot!

ps. a double thanx for the long, long wait for this video! sometimes good things take awhile to brew.

xo- pipes
the print factor©

adapt.

I've become quite used to fruitless writings, to pointless hate, to unanswered questions, and certainly, to getting no reactions. nothing. how does one get used to nothing? by force? it truly is rather amazing how adaptable we "humans" are. living in the most intolerable conditions, will become as comfortable as home. after all, home is where the heart is. 

i know now that i can believe in anything, yet fall for nothing.  yes, i've become quite used to fruitless searching and i've given up my right of passage. for i am the bad apple in the cart. dragging along these miles of ball n' chains, wherever i don't go. i write it across my forehead, for whomever i don't know. where does it end from here, and furthermore, how did i get here? certainly, it wasn't me who did it, for i swear i just went along with it. 

fucking fruitless dreams, that melt in silent anger, dripping through the cracks and seeping into the seams. what do people know about life? what do you know about passion? when you have everything, but a reason. excuses flow like fair weather friendships and bullshit is the native language here. 

i've become quite used to fruitless moments, for i'm adapted.