March 2011
1 post
November 2010
1 post
ive hada tumlblr for over two years„„ win
July 2010
1 post
feeling sad
a small feather,
floats through the air
with everlasting precision.
it lands in a town,
making a small incision
and gathering enough emotion to bear.
my life is a series of letdowns,
one after another
drops add to pounds.
kings and queens,
they’re all the same.
city folk and farmer kind,
all play the same game.
they call it life,
i call it shame.
they catch the criminal,
while really its...
February 2010
2 posts
register
I’m registering for the SAT’s today… I don’t like the idea of a standard test to create your entire future (I know this is no new concept)… Although, I do believe I will score well on these.
I plan to go to college for film, I’m looking at Emerson, Full Sail, and maybe some others, not really sure yet.
oh well
hi
January 2010
1 post
The American Drug War: The Last White Hope
I know this is completely old news, but the documentary, The American Drug War: The Last White hope is an amazing documentary. It is eye opening and gives a reason to your beliefs……………………… Yeah.
December 2009
11 posts
we're planning something big
me (kyletuchayfilms.tumblr.com) and b-hall(wilesfilms.tk), are planning a hugee production for march/april/may shooting/editing.. Out sometime in early june or before then, should be sick. We’re writing it now.
going to borders AND barnes and noble today… gona see what i can pick up there…. pretty fucking PSYCHEEEEEEEEEED
i
can
punctuate
poems
like
bukowski.
isn’t this
the biggest cliche of
our generation?
useless spacing
and improper punctuation.
woe is us.
woe is us.
merrymerry
have a good day today, tumblr.
i’ll be posting a new poem or story today.
all of the sounds in the universe, compiled together, and making one dissonant groan. as a silent man passes, he falls into it. creating noise. and the cat sleeps on the doorstep of that home. weeping fervently for what’s coming next. the universe lets go of the noise an endless quiet.
we're no here
no one can hear the face of the little boy who can’t see. and the precipice of life, it isn’t you it isn’t me. chased by the thoughts of redemption my heart waits by ask him ask him why. hunger strikes without warning and you’ve got caution tape all over you. principles of life and death stick within our veins pumping through and through. no one can hear the...
purple trees blow into the sky
Nothing new today, filming shit tomorrow. Word.
WatchThis is a film I made for no reason.
1 year ago, not today.
I don’t know what I was doing 1 year ago, today, but I probably wasn’t blogging on here. I started getting active on tumblr in 2008. I feel like I’ve grown as a person, a poet, a filmmaker and a storyteller since them. I still have about the same amount of followers, which is humbling, but is the least of my concerns. I don’t even know how I got as many followers as I do, I...
November 2009
2 posts
sea
I write a letter to myself thinking most literally in the dark. The cold wind hits my face from one side and lightly wraps around the next as if to grab it intentionally, every few seconds tightening its grip. Soon I will be suffocated by this air.
I look into a sea of streetlights; dully brightening the already dull night (as oxymoronic as it sounds). This place, at night, is where I find my...
Two Russians Over Vodka - A Very Short 1 Act Play
TWO RUSSIANS OVER VODKA
A play in one act
By Kyle Matthew Tuchay
CHARACTERS:
VASILY KALASHNIKOV
IGOR CHUISKY, his friend
[KALASHNIKOV’s apartment sits above the city of Omsk, Russia, it is snowing outside. It is lit dimly, by candles, which are flickering. The windows are frosted as the two Russians sit across a round table, both reading identical newspapers, and sipping vodka.]
...
October 2009
1 post
lebel 2
the room seems to extend ,two dimensional shapes apparently aparent, and now they begin to blink and subtract, as the hidden variable sign rejoices with one other sound and the door becomes more open pump bump bump my heart keeps beating and my head is breathing. and the door becomes more open damn, go to sleep but the last black z is left and finally i think back now im normal my arms are ticking...
September 2009
2 posts
the sory of your long lost life.
the world deteriorates at a mile a minute.
tick tock
another person gone.
tick tock
another person infected,
tick tock,
and we’ll disappear too.
and not a day goes by where i don’t think of this.
and not a day goes by where you shouldn’t.
there is nothing you can do to save us,
i promise,
you couldn’t.
and after i stop staring at this clock
after it stops our...
To Whom It May Concern - A Rant on Religion
Before you read: I am open to your beliefs and ideas. Please give me feedback on what you think. I do not intend this letter to be militant or offensive in any way shape or form. To Whom It May Concern, I would love nothing more to believe in a higher being with a heaven waiting for me. I would love nothing more to live in the clouds with my deceased ancestors and my dead gerbils from third...
August 2009
7 posts
Summer’s heat rages, soon he explodes. A million pieces created in the wreck spreads everywhere. The world is now plagued with summer’s rage. Men kill and women steal. Steel melts.
JAKE AND AMIR
If you by some miracle see this.
Hi.
Something in nature makes me want to believe, everything is better than I really perceive. It’s something about the waterfalls, and the leaves flowing ever so gently. It’s something about the flowers and the people. Are they blooming intently? Altogether they wilt just as everything else, a house in its place. Things like this makes me hate our race.
the breeze of man
I wish I was a bird so I could fly far. Far away from here at least. I can nearly feel the wind blowing against my skin. The sky turns towards the east. Around my head wraps a cloud, protecting me from the words of grief. Quite the shroud. I land on the ground, a field of wheat. It blows me away with enormous deceit. The sky is the only good place to be, I wish I was a bird.
July 2009
37 posts
cwphoto:
Tim Gilbert - Silly Rabbit
Tim wrote a...
People like to talk about me.
cwphoto:
talkitytalktalk. don’t give a shit.
I just wanted to say I love Rainy Days. Definately the best and smartest trance out there.
Your art keeps me alive.
//consume?burn//
Down the syrup, burn the smoke. Kill the beast and chop the oak. Build your cities, start your cars. Remove a lung, show your scars. Sit back in your chair, and enhance your grass. Start your car, keep your gas. Let’s watch the world fall apart. Now and forever I must depart.
Open up the Velcro locks, and slip into the old pinebox. Settle into the ground.
I-81
12 ounces of drainer fluid and 2 packs of tar. 30 miles of gas and a lifetime of new scars. this is the life a celebrity lives. good and bad each day. this is the life no god gives so why would you even stay?
why is your demeanor so obscure? are you even trying in live? have you even found the cure? i’ve been searching for hours but i think i’ve found it, listen and i’ll tell you about it. let’s make this happen, said the man with the syringe. i’ve got secrets to tell that would make any man cringe. self ashamed and self regret, accepting death, two days without a...
lamest sherlock ever.
My mother was an admirable vessel, and my father was a man of the sea. Two were the products of water, and one would soon become me.
lost in a haunting thought
death is so sellable EDITED
His coffin carried to the center of the street. People glance and stare, people he’ll never meet. Skyscrapers overlook the scene. From underneath the wood he stares back. No one ever knew this teen. He is the face of millions, one to hate corporate greed. Death is so sellable, and being sellable is all you need. The casket is crowded now. People wonder, wonder how. They step away, the body...
“Universal truth is not measured in mass appeal, this is the last time I kneel...”
– Immortal Technique
sitting back
having extreme revelations and listening to immortal technique.
and relaxing.
sometimes ya’ just gotta think.
old
i wish i could drown myself in this feeling,
a sense of sight i’ve never lost.
i wish i could block my skin to stop the peeling,
another paper torn and tossed.
love is a sensless object,
a guidence that remembers night.
and how the stars somehow connected,
our feeble cognizance’s plight.
