A Hint Of Jasmine

Another orbit has come around my way again. Tears welled up as I read her first contact with me in what feels like an eternity. Now she is back. Close. She needed to talk and, whether she knows it or not, I needed her. The timing was perfect, and the conversation was beautiful. Her voice has never really left the forefront of my thoughts since i've known her. With it there, only a few hours from me now, my thoughts do a little jig at the idea of getting to see her.

It's nice to know she still thought of me, even as her life moved into extraordinary. I made wishes for her. For her safe journey, for her health, for her to find love, friendship, companionship. As she told me of her time in Greece, her good times, her bad times. I felt like we were leading the same life a few times in the past months. Maybe even having our hearts broken at the same times. Maybe, in some small way, it was Destiny's way of letting us know that we're never alone in the worst of our emotions.

I'm thrilled to see her, thrilled to talk to her, thrilled to know she is close enough to drive to, even for just an evening, even for just a moment. I thought i felt something in the air last week. Something that changed, a new scent. Now I know what it was I was sensing. A hint of jasmine.

Redux

Nothing has changed
Her voice, still returning
Sending chills, bumping across bruises

The way she stands, emblazoned across my memory
The way she kissed, still a fantasy
Her voice, still returning

Nothing has changed
I fade across shadow lakes
Recalling the way she kissed, still a fantasy

The parade outside is never forgiving
While penance in my world isn't necessary
Nothing has changed

Remember that returning isn't easy
Being apart was like a lesson
Now i see the way she stands, emblazoned across my memory
Redux

4ever continued...

Why more now? Everything i've said has fallen on jaded ears. Everything I've done has been seen with clouded eyes. There was never a lie, there was never a motive, there was only this. So I respond now, with words, because they are what I have. I respond now hoping that you will take them for what they are and know that I would never lie about something so important, something so huge that galaxies cry at the sheer force of this feeling. Ignore it, deny it, and still it is true.


I love you unconditionally. I love you without ever needing it to be returned. I would die for you. I forgave you for everything you may ever do that hurts the minute that I fell in love with you. It will never change, never stop, never grow quiet or lessen in it's intensity. It is yours to have. It is yours to keep. I will spend the rest of my life, if need be, trying to show you that what I have, what I feel is not love in words, it is love in action, in thought, in perfection. The only perfection i've ever experienced in life is love. So few times have I loved so perfectly. You were one, you are one. I told you the first time we ever talked of such things. I recited it to you more than once while we were there in perfection. I will always return to there. Always hope to remind you. This love is true and beautiful and undying and will not change.

I believe in you. I believe in this love, even if other love seems so petty and useless. I will always be there with accepting arms. I cannot tell you enough that you are beautiful. I cannot tell you enough that you are loved, by this lost soul.

Maybe you don't believe me. I will always hope for the chance to prove it.

4ever

I'm overtired. It happens when you don't sleep. Not sleeping is symptom of coffee too late in the evening. Not sleeping is a symptom of that one state of mind that exists inside me that is not calm, or zen or happy. That part of me that is still unsure of everything. There are so many things I need to say. More importantly, there are so many things I wanted to ask, wanted to know. Instead, that part of me is in oblivion with no ending, no understanding.

So this is a list then. A list of things I need to say. I could ask why a million times and it wouldn't be enough. I could sit here and go through every moment, every second and come up with everything and it wouldn't be enough.

Why did you say you loved me?
Why did you come looking for me if you were just going to walk away?
Why did you just stop, with no explanation?
You wanted honesty and respect and I gave you nothing but that. Why, from me, was it not enough?
Why did you not believe those words I said to you?
You danced with me and sang with me.
I was never mad, only confused.
I was never angry or spiteful, never lashed out or was disrespectful.
I believe in you, in all that you are.
I called and tried to communicate and all I received was silence. Why so silent?
Don't you know that I love you more than anything? That nothing you could do would change that? That all of the world could tell me to forget you and I never will?
Don't you know that those words are not fluff or cheese though they may sound like it? That they are the most serious statements of the truest feelings?
Can you see how beautiful you are?
Can you see how much I hurt?
Do you know that all I wanted was to talk?
All I ever wanted was you to be happy.
All I ever hoped for was your love and your honesty and your respect.
Do you think that you are so imperfect?

You are beautiful and strong and one of the most amazing people i've ever met. I would never have said those words, never have held you or kissed you like I did if that was not true. In the dream that was the beginning of our relationship, all I could see was happiness ahead. Where did the road turn so swiftly? Sometimes these words all sound the same, hoping that maybe you read them and take them to heart, the way that I mean them.

I never wanted to move on. I only wanted to wait. I only wanted to see you again, in beauty as you always were. So you've slipped and I am helpless to find you. Someday maybe you'll find me. I'll be waiting with arms wide, a smile on my face and nothing but the love I have for you, will always have for you, in my eyes.

No rest and no sleep and always hoping that you are happy. Always.

Faded

The day outside was bleak. I did not want to wake up, to climb out of my bed into the warmth that wasn't there. I didn't want to face a day that had so very little in it to distract me from my constant thoughts as of late.

Today filled itself. I got a christmas tree with my cousin and her boyfriend for her place (now my place as well.) We decorated, went grocery shopping, made dinner, just had a generally homebody/new england type Sunday. I was faded from the week and still I spent the day with part of me distracted.

Saturday was Garden State. It was grab some food from the pizza place and play with OnDemand and find Garden State and eat greasy food, smoke a little pot and watch. It was the day that I broke down and cried because of a movie like i've never done. I cried like a child. Then i fell back to sleep and went out later in the evening to wash away the faded thoughts.

I could do that for every day of this long weekend. I'll sum it up instead. For every action i did, for every function, meal, family member I spoke to, beer i drank, there was a small portion of me that was silent, brooding and on fire with anger and love and withdrawal.

And now it's faded because I am not sober. I haven't slept well lately. Why would tonight be any different.

Eden

All I want is the world
And everything for me
You can rattle off your talk
All that matters is what I see
If you break me down
Selfish desire is all you blame
Cause desperate times
Call for desperate measures
And I am not ashamed
Oh it took me a long time to come to this
And I have chosen my path
I am only for me
All my dreams are so closed
If I open them to you
You can count them all as lies
You can believe me or you can believe the truth
But I could let you in
Put your feelings on the shelf
There's only room cause it helps myself
Oh I could let you in
But it's to no avail
I only listen cause it helps myself
Oh it took me a long time to come to this
And I have chosen my path
I am only for me
I took a cane from a blind man
And I've tasted the fruit in the garden of Eden
When I walk out of here
I know I'll stand clear
But the taste in my mouth still remains
Still remains
Oh it took me a long time
I am only for me

===Guster

Seeing Double

I went with LegalQueer last night to see her favorite and, possibly, my favorite girl guitarist. Melissa was on fire last night. We went to the Iron Horse for five-thirty and managed to get great seats. We were staying for both shows (the 7pm and the 10pm) and had hoped to not have "lousy" seats. We snacked and talked and waited. The show started and Melissa was playing the flugelhorn for the first song of her opening act's set. It was amazing. I could use amazing in the post quite a bit but i'll try not to.

The opening act, Natalia Zuckerman was phenomenal and worth checking out. I bought one of her CDs. She was an interesting mix of blues, a little alt country, dashed with some good NYC flavor. She definitely held her own next to Melissa's unstoppable bursts of guitar energy when they played together. That is no small feat. She's in my CD player as i'm writing this.

Melissa took the stage both time and was just pure energy. If you could measure this woman's aura in front of a crowd it would bury the needle on every instrument. Even before she opens her mouth to sing, her guitar is screaming at you, "PAY ATTENTION, IT'S GONNA BE A HELL OF A RIDE!!". That's what it is every time. Every song and I can't tear my eyes away. My entire self just wants to be right there at that moment. She played songs i'd never heard. It didn't matter. The sound in the Iron Horse is perfect and the words echoed clearly over her guitar, whether it was roaring or yearning. I could go on for hours about her variations, her rhythm, her movements, and the overall beauty that is Melissa Ferrick on stage.

The one moment that is in front of my memory took place during the second show. After some of the more upbeat selections in the second set, the mood shifted in a moment and Melissa began to play Anything, Anywhere. And it was all I could do to not cry. I had heard the song before, but I have never had such a place for it in my mind, in my heart. Thank you, LegalQueer for showing me the wonder of her music, and thank you Melissa...for this...

I want you
To know me
To need me
Smile when I call your name

I want you
To never
Look at
Anyone else this way

So strange
This something
We have between us
And it's not fair
If you've never
Loved this way

Anything, anywhere
I would give everything I own away
Always I will sing
Picturing you singing right back to me

I want you
To know that
I will always have you
No matter if never
Physically in my arms again
This love
Is like
Mercury
Splitting off
Endlessly
Every time I try
To nail it down

Anything, anywhere
I would give everything I own away
Always I will sing
Picturing you singing right back to me

Too bad
The best love hurts so much
But it's so good yes
The best love hurts so much

Anything, anywhere
I would give everything I own away
Always I will sing
Picturing you singing right back to me

Anything, anywhere
I would give everything I own away
Always I will sing
Picturing you singing right back to me
Sing it right back
Sing it right back
Sing it right back
Back to me
Anything ... Anywhere

Poetic License

I'm sick. Physically not feeling well. I'm not quite on my deathbed but i'm ill enough to have stayed home every night since Sunday of this week. That's a big deal. I did venture out for coffee briefly the other night and it was great, but other than that i've been sitting here. I've been alternately depressed, happy, content, cold, warm, stuffy, coughing, teary-eyed, lamenting, reminiscing, longing, smiling, laughing, missing...

I'm not feeling in the least bit poetic at this moment. I'm feeling though. I'm feeling lots of things. I don't think they are things I can talk about here. I don't usually curb my thoughts here. But then, my thoughts are usually all decorated like some elegant dining room with way too much silverware and ridiculous chandeliers.

And now that i've written and erased and written and erased about ten things, I'm lost. I can't do this right now. Sorry for the tease, those of you that are reading this. Without some poetic license, sometimes it's just easier to say it straight.

I'm depressed, not feeling well and wishing on stars that I haven't seen for days. I guess you'd call this the "down" part of the cycle huh?

A Sanctuary Safe And Strong

I think we all have to be alone. I was reading MissRachelle's latest post and she mentioned getting away to her "spot". I know what she means. I've always had a couple of places to go. I've always needed somewhere to run, regardless of the weather or the time or the season or the circumstances. I have a place I can escape everyone. Everyone except myself. Usually, that's why I'm going. I'm going because I need some time with just me. Maybe it's to think, maybe it's to feel, or maybe it's just to be without the need to explain.

I went there just the other day in fact. It was late, I was tired and still I needed to get away from the rest of life. I needed to sort things out. By the time I left, life was still there, my problems were still there, but i felt just a little bit more ready to deal with them. And the song that kept running through my head as I drove home was by a man that has gotten me through quite a bit of my life with his words...and sometimes he just hit the nail on the head.

In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along

I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense

And every time I’ve held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose

But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break

And this is why my eyes are closed
It’s just as well for all I’ve seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you’re the only one who knows

So I would choose to be with you
That’s if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break

And so it goes, and so it goes
And you’re the only one who knows

===Billy Joel

Presence And Absence

At once I feel alone and somehow comforted. Without this presence I've grown so accustomed to I have some emptiness inside that is both unexplainable and explained. I am balancing, like a good Libra, between those things that I need to do and those that I wish for. I'm waiting and constantly convincing myself that I should. That I need to wait, to fight, to make this thing worthwhile. What if that is not my choice to make?

I wake up and hope, I drift to sleep making wishes. I exist, in some sense, between the times I sleep, as a functional body. I move and work and laugh and watch myself from some third person view. I am going through the motions of life so life doesn't forget I'm here. All the while, distracted and meditative.

Such presence. Such overbearing power in the memories and the dreams I've had. Yet absence, like some wasted city block, stretches out in front of me. I have no control over it. I have no recourse from it. It is part of me, even the functional me. Behind every laugh i miss her lips. Behind every smile i see her face. Behind every conversation I am listening to her speaking. Some simultaneous presence and absence, drawing and quartering me into useless sections.

Wondering what will make me whole again.

Who Needs Words

No Music For Dancing

I hate not knowing. The complete rage it causes is so deep seated it often scares my logical side. I need to know where I stand. I need to know what I am expected to do. It doesn't matter the context. In my job, in my life, in my relationships. I need to know where I belong in all of those things. Some of them I can discover on my own. Those that I cannot find on my own, where that knowing is dependent on another, are those that I fear the most.

I need to know. Maybe it's the control freak inside of me, clawing at the surface of my laid back facade. I need to understand because I don't want to fuck it up. I've never discriminated between those things that would hurt if I knew them and those that would not. I don't care if it's going to hurt. I'd rather hurt than not know, I'd rather be broken and know why then shattered and wondering. It's the person I am.

I'm disappointed in myself. I am weak and easily destroyed. I played, for so long, the game of being strong and confident. When the realization hits me that I am far from that it takes away a little of my identity. I need to know myself more than anything. When I discover something that I did not know, it infuriates me and I have to understand, I need to know what it is that makes that part of me tick the way it does. I need to count it's beats, understand it's rhythm so I can have some semblance of understanding.

Unanswered prayers, unanswered hopes and dreams. Life is made of them. The glass, it seems, is half empty for me right at the moment. Perhaps because of where I am, what I'm experiencing right now. Perhaps because of these new revelations about myself, about others. Perhaps because i'm growing again. Still my questions are unanswered, still I sit here broken with no hope of resolve. I am not dark now though, as I have been. Only dealing, learning, going through this with my head held as high as I can make it. I am here because of my choices, and I am strong enough to deal with them. It does not make anything easier. The one question I do know the answer to is what drives me.

I will make it through this.

River

I am a creature of the water. Neither of my astrological signs (I'm a cusp) would ever say that about me though. Still, I am. It was hard to get up today. It was hard to face the world again after this weekend, after these past days. I'm functioning but not well. I am alive. That much I am thankful for. Still, I am weighed down with so much. I remain functional out of necessity. Crawling into my bed and sleeping the world away just isn't an option any more.

Today, at lunch, I wasn't sure what I was going to eat. I'm on a limited budget this week and wasn't exactly hungry anyway. So I drove to the water. The river actually. Getting to the river took me past the center of town. Past memories. Dancing on that big round stone. Sitting at the fountain, laughing as it shut off right in front of us. Walking down along the train tracks, content to just be with each other.

Today I drove to the water, looking for some sort of comfort. Comfort from the turmoil. Comfort for my bruised heart. I didn't think I would find it. Then, Destiny seems to like throwing curve balls at me. I shed a tear for the first time in a week today. To my astonishment, it was not a tear of sadness. I am sad, depressed, and generally in a bad state. Still, the tears I shed were joyful tears.

I ran through the memories so fast in my head, and they were all so vivid. All the amazing moments, the perfection that I could remember. The shared looks, the shared emotion, the simple touch of a hand, the caress of lips. I watched the movie in my mind play through the past six weeks and smiled.

All I have now is what I keep within myself. I have hope that Destiny has a plan. I have memories that I would never trade. I have a direction, some purpose.

I wanted to share it all. I don't know if I will be allowed to. I have all of these things and I am still broken. Am I taking them for granted? Or does she stand there, blazing in my mind and overpowering all those other things. I want this to be "us" again. I want to make memories for the future. I would forgive and forgive and forgive for the chance.

And the logical side of me is screaming. But then, he usually is. I can't make sense of it, because it's a feeling. No matter what I want for myself, I want her to be happy more than anything.

And the water kept rushing past.

1000 Words

A picture is worth a thousand words. So then, the picture of you I have on my desktop is thousands of words long. Then there are the words across the top of the picture. Words I see every time i look at my computer screen, every time i close a window or open my laptop...

"Thinking of you"

That is what I'm doing right now. Worrying and hoping and loving you. No matter how many words are said or not said, you will be on my mind, in my heart, and that picture will never change.

Namesake

I have written about mountains and lakes and islands. I have written about faces and hands and eyes. I have written about travels and journeys and adventures. I have made up stories and had stories make me up. I have played games of chance with the devil as often as I've made my peace with God. I have sinned more times than I can count. I have loved deeper than can be explained. I have ridden on the backs of dragons in my dreams while reality delivered blow after blow. I have put my faith in things that should never be trusted and I have fallen so far I often remember how it feels, even when the light is bright on my face.

Darkness is a haven. There is no evil in the darkness that comforts me. In all absence of light the truest nature of the world is there. Without light to change things, the darkness is honesty. Without the image all we have is the emotion, the feeling, the gut reaction that guides.

I am discontent now. I can feel the chill seeping in. I can feel the difficulty this winter brings. I hope with wishes and dreams that this winter passes without so much of what I fear. I am surrounded by the amazing. I am surrounded and in love. I should be content with these new found comforts, as mundane as some are and as special as she is.

Tonight I am not sad, or angry. I am not sinking into some depression or being dragged down. I am just quiet. Thoughtful. Thinking of her, thinking of this, thinking of tomorrow. Thinking about yesterday. Remembering those moments i've memorized. Those parts of me that life changed and I changed.

I have written about dancing and singing. I have written about loving and hating. I have written with music pulsing through me and I have written in silence. I have sacrificed, I have suffered, I have wept. I have been given great gifts and taught great lessons and been loved by those who would accept me for who I am.

I can feel the winter quietly making it's way here, hiding behind beautiful days. I can feel the discontent in myself, the changes I can feel coming and I hope will be beautiful.

I have lived and wished to die. Tonight, hunched over and writing, I have a different wish. A wish to live for the present and cherish the past and fear the stunning beauty that I pray will be the future.

"Now is the winter of our discontent..."

Constantly

Last night was strange. It was a Wednesday but I didn't have class. I was planning on attending anyway, but came to find it would have been strange for me to just "show up". I decided I didn't want to risk the important things (and important people) by being there. So, instead, I went to see The Constant Gardener with Kizzle.

The movie was amazing and brought up a very poignant thought in my mind. Aside from it's messages and it's story line and all of it's amazing camera work, the movie made me remember that THESE are the kinds of movies I truly love. Movies that make you think, that evolve and don't stand stagnant on the screen, same old characters, same old ideas. These movies, most of which start off as limited release, seem to be catching hold of me recently. I hope to catch more of them.

Then after the movie it was driving home. My lovely one called while I was in the car and I couldn't hear her very well. We talked for a moment and when we got off the phone I was quiet. I had been thinking about her all night, and hearing her voice quieted me in such a deep way. My soul was still for a moment with the thoughts of her now reeling in the forefront of my mind. Even when other things in the world are happening, even when I am living and she is living and even if we are apart, she is there. And when my mind is on other things, it is my soul that is lost in memories of her...

...constantly.

Not Going Anywhere

Now that the world isn't ending, it's love that I'm sending to you.
It isn't the love of a hero, that's why I fear it won't do.

---Chad Kroeger "Hero"

A Letter To Myself

I am writing this to myself as a reminder. I am writing this to myself so that when the world is falling apart around me, when the avalanches of life are tumbling ever closer, I will have this to remember. Nothing was ever guaranteed to be simple, or easy, or without it's problems. My life, the one that surrounds me with amazing people, is the only one I have. I have struggled, and fallen, and struggled and fallen and I still fight to live. Even when I wonder why, I fight. I say that I'm a lover, not a fighter to people. Then sometimes I remember how much I've fought to love.

I am writing this to myself for when I want to give up. For when my trust in the people I love fails. I am flawed and always feel unworthy. I am always atoning for the sins of my past. I am always living with those sins, and they are a constant reminder of who I was, and who I will never be again. When they come to haunt me, to judge me, I fight for my sanity. I fight knowing that there are people there to fight with me if I need them, even though the battle is my own.

I love deeper than oceans. I love with my soul. I am blessed with a life that did not give up on me and I have a promise to keep. I will not give up on my life, even when I drown in the past, in the mistakes I make, in the mistakes I will make. I will not give up on life, and I will never give up on the people that I love. Love like a bright neon sign blinking to the universe.

I am writing this to myself to remember the small things that sometimes sit in shadows of bigger, more "important" parts of life. Those small things that make me, made me and continue to sculpt the person I am...I remember...

Standing on the beach, wearing my suit, and her in a dress ready for dinner
Standing on stage, in darkness, alone with my thoughts before a show and feeling the touch of beauty from all around me.
Singing to my grandparents on their 50th wedding anniversary
The first time I told someone I loved them and they weren't my family.
The first time I saw someone die.
Dancing without music, under stars, in the center of town.
Breaking my foot during a volleyball practice.
Standing on the beach head of the Saco river, talking to the moon.
Holding her hand on the drive home that New Years, and my soul was at peace.
Holding her hand on the drive out that New Years, and realizing what was missing.
Sleeping next to the people I love.
Making slightly intoxicated love in the back of my Jeep.
Listening to music I wrote being played by other people.
Riding my bicycle down Worthy Street, feeling the wind, feeling alive.
Loving and laughing and crying and yelling, all at the same person, and still they never left.

I remember that memories are precious and they have shaped me and that every moment, every thought, every action I've made, has helped make three words more powerful than all the hardest moments in my life...

I love you.

This is a letter to myself so that others can see who I am. A note to them. Some of them will read it and nod, or smile, or shake their heads at my sheer cheese. I look forward to the reactions, the comments, the moments shared. Any moment with the people i love is a moment I cherish.

This is a letter to myself, so that you, the one that I'm fighting for now, can see. I am not weak or ready to give up. I am not just going to run even if you hurt me. I want you to trust me, believe in me, understand me and be honest with me. I want to do the same for you. This effort is ours to make together, whether slowly or quickly down the road, we are traveling together. I want this road to be long, but for now, today is today and tomorrow is the future. No matter how this road twists and turns, and even if it comes time, someday, to take our own paths apart, know that the weight of my soul has been measured by your kiss. I know , that I could live without you, but I choose to fight for this love. I hope you'll fight for it too.

Just Wait

If ever you are feeling like you're tired
And all your uphill struggles leave you headed downhill
If you realize your wildest dreams can hurt you
And your appetite for pain has drinken its fill

I ask of you a very simple question
Did you think for one minute that you are alone
And is your suffering a privilege you share only
Or did you think that everybody else feels completely at home

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

If you think I've given up on you you're crazy
And if you think I don't love you well then you're just wrong
In time you just might take to feeling better
Time is the beauty of the road being long

I know that now you feel no consolation
But maybe if I told you and informed you out loud
I say this without fear of hesitation
I can honestly tell you that you make me proud

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come
Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

If anything I might have just said has helped you
If anything I might have just said helped you just carry on
Your rise uphill may no longer seem a struggle
And your appetite for pain may all but be gone

I hope for you and cannot stop at hoping
Until that smile has once again returned to your face
There's no such thing as a failure who keeps trying
Coasting to the bottom is the only disgrace

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

---John Popper

The Soul Of Jack London

I remember Jack London. I remember the amazing short stories he wrote. Of all of them, one sticks out in my mind today. "To Build A Fire." I made a correlation in my mind this morning that didn't quite seem to fit until i thought about it some more. I connected my current life, this piece of my existence to that story.

In the book, a man desperately needs to build a fire in the freezing cold Arctic. If he doesn't build the fire he will perish. It's an extreme story about extreme conditions. When the connection was forming in my head it wasn't that extreme, but it fit the bill.

That's how I feel right now. I feel like I'm building a fire. It's going extremely well as far as I can tell, a small, but extremely hot flame is burning. I want it to grow, to be a roaring bonfire. It needs attention and care and fuel to keep it burning. The fuel I have, and I hope I have enough. The attention, I can give and the care is overflowing.

The problem with fire is always the same. You must pay it attention and feed it what it needs to burn. Don't give it too much fuel or it will burn fast and hard and then die quickly. Fan it, give the embers the oxygen they need to get hotter, but don't fan too much or you will eventually just blow it out.

So here I am, in my life, trying to fan this fire and not put it out. I want it burning brightly. I want it to shine through the night. Fanning it too much, giving it too much attention may smother it though, and that would not do. So i'll make sure, i'll try very hard to give it the right amount of care and let it burn as it's supposed to.

This fire that lives in my heart, in her heart, started so quickly. Now we must keep it alive. It is what I'm living for, and without it, I will freeze in this arctic winter. Let it burn forever, because we've only just begun to feel the magnificent heat.
Let the soul of Jack London be witness, that to build this fire I will do anything.

Past And Future

At the beginning of something new, there is always the need to deal with those things that have happened to us in the past. Dealing with previous relationships is the hardest. When those from our past don't deal with the situation well, it's difficult to see the brightness of the present, clouded by a shadow from the past.

In some cases, I understand. In the beginning of this relationship I am dealing with a few pieces of my life that are important, that have history, that aren't necessarily obligated to be thrilled that I am in a new relationship. All I can hope for is that we stay open and honest. All I can hope for is that they remember, that they always remember that I love them.

Sometimes, though, we're not so lucky. Yes, I've needed to deal with history that is important to me. Because it's important to me. Because they are important to me. Sometimes, people react before they think. They say things, harsh things, and things they may regret later.

My beautiful woman has been dealing with this recently. In the midst of happiness, she has been brought down. Because of history, and because she's trying to deal with it correctly. I've been blessed with the people in my life, even if it was hard, even when I made mistakes, they stayed willing to give me a chance, to love them and show that I do.

The challenge isn't being happy. We are happy. She, as she has said to me, is happy. The challenge is not letting the sadness that comes with hard history, with the feelings of those around us, take over the happiness.

I hope she can. I hope she remembers how much "us" means to me. I hope through this she knows I'm here for her. She can always come running, always call, always ask whenever she needs it. Sometime I'm going to need her shoulder, her comfort. To know that she cries over these things tears me apart. The beauty of the idea. Crying because she does care. Yet, crying all the same.

Helpless is my word for last night. It's my word for today. I just wanted to hold her. I wanted to take it away and I couldn't. She's a strong soul. She will survive, even without me here to comfort her. It still rips me apart. Because now, I am here. I want to be her strength when she needs it. I hope she knows she can ask.

Above all else, we are together. We have only just begun, and even the hardest things are temporary. While the love we share is eternal. Haunted by a past of our own making, and still the future is bright and beautiful.

7 AM

I got back in the car at 7AM. She was safe. Tired, and she'll probably have a hang over, but she was safe. I didn't sleep because I didn't know if she was. I'm paying for it now, but it was worth the worry. She'll always be worth the worry. I got in the car and the cd I had made for her was in the stereo. It was in between tracks. When the next track started I smiled, tears in my already puffy eyes. I smiled because of all the realizations of a sleepless night. I smiled because she was there, in her bed, asleep and beautiful. I smiled because, as usual, Destiny was letting me know it was all ok now.

"The Blowers Daughter"
And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...

Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to
Leave it all behind?

I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind...
My mind...my mind...
---Damien Rice

Something Missing

Something is missing tonight, as I sit here in bed. It is her. We've seen each other almost every day. We're learning so much so fast. It's been a roller coaster of emotions and confessions and life stories. We've shared so much in just such a short amount of time.

Tonight she had to help a friend. We had planned to get together. She called to ask if I would mind. I smiled, thinking of my own friends and how much they mean to me. Of course I didn't mind. Those people we love sometimes need us. Tonight, someone needed her. I told her to go, If i got the chance to see her later on, I would...

...It is later on now and I won't see her tonight. I'm missing her. I'm sitting here wondering what I should do with myself and getting lost in thoughts of the past three weeks. The time that seems to have flown.

She has been there. She is there. In my mind, so much a part of everything I do, or think, or say now. I've never imagined losing myself to someone and being okay with it. Now i'm drowning in her eyes even when they are miles away. I'm lost inside thoughts of her lips and her arms around me, her eyes, her breasts against me, her hands on me. I'm lost and happy, longing for her and content in the mirages I keep creating in my mind.

Something is missing.

The sound of her voice.

Raining

It was raining as we got out of the car and ran to the door of the hotel room, our bags across our shoulders. She laughed and made comment that she was going to melt. I smiled and let us into the fresh smelling room. It was the beginning of an amazingly perfect day, evening and morning that was this morning.

We had spent a few minutes at my house, before we left for the hotel, looking at old photos of me when I was a child. She laughed and told me how cute I was. I made sure that she would show me pictures of her someday. Then we made the drive, in the rain, the windows of the car foggy with our breath. We were smiling, holding hands in the car.

Once we were in the room, we inspected. It wasn't large, though the bed was king sized. It wasn't beautiful, it was perfect. It meant just us. It meant so many things in my mind, in my heart, that I shivered, whether from cold or from my mind i'm unsure. I lay on the bed, jokingly "testing" it for it's comfort level. We didn't leave the room or the bed right away, even though we were both hungry. We were hungrier for each other.

Then out into the rain, to dinner. I carried her across a river that had formed where part of the sidewalk had been. She laughed the entire time. We both looked like we had taken another shower when we entered the restaurant. We waited for a seat talking about traveling.

Dinner was divine. Whether it was the company or the meal or the atmosphere or the sound of rain beating against the windows, I was content. Sitting across from her, lost in her gaze one moment, examining her beautiful features the next, always trying to remember to eat, to chew, to swallow.

The rest of the evening was a beautiful blur of wine and conversation and laughter and love and passion and fun. It was an evening that I have never experienced. The rain poured out of the sky, even as we climbed into the shower together and she washed my hair and we kissed under the hot water. It was raining outside, and it was raining inside and our lips drank of each other as much as they drank of the wine.

Then pillow talk, and sleep and waking up in early morning to roll over and watch her, laying there, fitfully resting beside me. She doesn't sleep well in strange places. Neither do I. Still, in her fitfullness she was beautiful. And then I woke her with kisses and soft words and we showered and had breakfast and drove home in a daze. A daze of perfection. I'm still there, with her face in my mind and smiling uncontrollably.

And even now, I know in my soul, that we've only just begun.

No Need For Daylight

During the day is easy. The day was, and is, a time when things are there, visible, easy. Daylight is honest. It shows you things with no hidden meaning, just exactly what you see. It takes away the difficulty of truly seeing, believing, by always illuminating, regardless of what it is.

That is why i love the dark. All the best things in my life have happened at night. At night, when it takes ourselves being honest, being our own source of light. When it's harder and more worth it. When seeing isn't necessary for believing any more. I have faith in the darkness to always make me work for those things that are important to me. Then in morning, I'll let the sunlight in and remember how beautiful the world can be with daylight, even after the beauty of the night.

A Warm Winter

In the beginning of any relationship, I suppose there is infatuation. An overbearing "love" of someone, because they are new and different and have stories to tell and history to share and viewpoints and ideas. I suppose people will call it the honeymoon phase, and people will be disgusted and roll their eyes. But what if, in this sick, cynical world, there is a love that is so impossible to describe, to express, that even every word, or action or kiss couldn't bring to light it's completeness.

That is how i'm feeling tonight. I'm feeling cheesy and sappy and ridiculous. To me, now, those words mean good things. They mean that I've found someone that takes me for my cheese, all of it. Someone I can see a future with. I am happy, happier than i've been in a while. And if you're rolling your eyes, just wait...

Though I need to interrupt myself and say something to at least one person that will read this. To the other woman I was priveleged enough to spend 8 wonderful years with. I want you to know how much you mean to me and will mean to me and always meant to me. How much love I have for you inside. It's part of why this new relationship is so good. Because you gave me so much, helped me be so much of who I am. I love you more than you'll ever understand for that. Even though things didn't wind up perfect, I know we shared so much perfection, so much beauty and so much love in our time together that we shook mountains.

This year will be a winter of warmth. Whether fires burn in fireplaces, or on the back deck with snow piled around, or just inside my soul, the winter will not touch me. The cold will have to wait.

The honesty and the beauty and the connection and the sheer destiny of it all. It rocks me to my core, trying to search out words to describe it. I've felt this, i know this, but not this way. This time, with it's subtle changes, has me lost for words, lost for thoughts, and just feeling my way through.

There is no too fast, or too slow or too easy or too hard now. There is only this. There is only a deep love, something I hope never fades, never leaves, never decides it's had enough and seeks out a more worthy man for such a wonderful gift. And still, as it slips into "late" I am hunting for words I cannot find. I could write poems and songs and stories for an eternity and not touch on this feeling that I thought I understood.

Maybe it is true. Maybe all the past, all the love I've been lucky enough to have. To have been so blessed with those women that have been so wonderful to me through my flaws. Maybe they were getting me ready. Maybe even this is getting me ready for something else...but right now it feels like the only thing.

I feel guilty for being happy. I feel guilty telling people, telling those whom i've cared about so much in the past. But then I hope that somewhere inside them they are happy for me, just as I am happy for their happinesses. I love them with a never-ending love from the depths of my soul. I would die for them, because they taught me to be love, they taught me how to be loved.

In the end of this i'll say that I want to read this again someday and I hope it still makes sense, I hope it still rings true. I hope and I hope and I dream and I wish and I even pray. That I am worthy of the people in my life that care about me as they do. I hope I can give them even a fraction of that in return.

And to you, who I will try to keep warm this winter, remember...We've only just begun.

Here With Me

"Here With Me"

All this time I’ve been sitting here, trying to think of the words I could say
The chords I could play
And instead all these thoughts of you, flying around, keep getting in the way
Of these words I could say

All this history gathered here, stacked up like building blocks, are all I could see
Somehow you found me
Like lovers in Marquez books, waiting for all the looks you keep giving
Life seems worth living

‘Cause I keep thinking that maybe this might be the last time
I’ll ever try to write a love song
‘Cause I keep seeing that maybe this might be the best time
Of my life, now that you’re here with me

In darkness, your lips on mine, keep stopping the hands of time, my heart beats so fast
This feeling will last
In morning your sleeping there beside me and beautiful, I’ll love you today
More than yesterday

‘Cause I keep thinking that maybe this might be the last time
I’ll ever try to write a love song
‘Cause I keep seeing that maybe this might be the best time
Of my life, now that you’re here with me

Quiet Entrance

I walked outside today and immediately felt a familiar sense. I smelled a familiar smell. It was Autumn making it's quiet entrance. Sometimes it bangs in loudly, rattling the dishes and stirring the baby from it's sleeping. This year, it's entrance has been quiet, softly stepping through the house, trying not to let us know it's here. Still I felt that sense today, of summer's inevitable end.

Then, as I arrived at work, a series of thoughts brought me back from my day dreams of my new relationship. Thoughts about my life now, and it's complexity and it's transition. I want things to be smooth, to flow as they should so nothing bumps more than it has or has to. I don't know that it will work that way, or easily.

So I thought i'd take a moment here to mourn the passing of my favorite season. The season of outsides and life and movement and sunshine. As we enter autumn and then winter and into those places where we need to shed our own light because the light of the world is dim for the moment. In this place where the sandals are packed and the beach ball is deflated, I languish in thoughts of next summer.

Beginning

We've only just begun. It's what I keep telling her. It's what I've been saying to her as we begin this, dare I say, relationship. The look in her eyes is matched, only, by my own. I keep thinking. That's the problem, really, is that my brain is on overdrive with all the new experiences in my life hitting me all at once. I am cheesy. She loves it. I am a geek. She loves it. I am writing about her here, now, not because it's safe, but because I want to express it. I want to say I'm Happy! for once in my life and not have to explain the boundaries of the statement. To just sit in the garden of that emotion and let the warmth of the sun blast against my face. Just happy. Just beginning.

Like New Orleans

"That note you hold, narrowing and rising, shakes
Like New Orleans reflected on the water
And in all ears appropriate falsehood wakes..."
From "For Sidney Bechet" by Philip Larkin

That Gold Statue

I was pleased with some of the Emmy winners last night. I was especially pleased with Lost capturing the "Best Dramatic Series" Emmy. I am not usually one to watch those awards shows but found myself with dear friends and watching, and not minding like I thought I would.

The best part, the most depressing part of the evening was the tribute to the late great Peter Jennings. It was heart wrenching to see old footage of all three of the great newscasters of our time (Jennings, Rather and Brokaw). The clincher was really seeing Brokaw and Rather, both retired now, on stage talking about their time as newscasters and about their colleague Jennings. I did shed a tear. A tear for the future of news in this country. A tear for the country.

It was a drive home lost in thought last night. No smiles and no frowns, just thinking. The moon was very bright. I'll blame her for my introspective state last evening, after all the events of the day. Not peaceful but thoughtful, and hopefully, like the Emmy's, all the tension will disappear once the decisions have been announced. But then, I need to make all my decisions first. This could take a while. ;)

Television Wins

Tonight the television wins. As I sat there watching the most recent episode of Weeds, and as the ending started and as the ending ended and I was crying. Just as she was. Why I wonder, why I laugh. As if I didn't know. Happy moments caught forever keep fading away on me. And I told you I wouldn't go here, that the darkness would not ensue. But then, this is my place to be. So I will be. So I am.

I'm still not well, I'm still shaken not stirred and random and tired. I'm checking the clock over and over to see if I'm still awake. A friend told me I seemed less "dark" than I have been. Am I? Am I hiding it? I think it's been pre-empted by the rest of my survival. My own personal reality show with an 11 mile hike in the beginning. No Jeff Probst for me, and no magicians assistants to help me up when I fall.

And the number of times I could use the pronoun "she" to describe what is going on in this brain, this mind, this heart, this soul, this darkness that is me, sickens all those things to their core.

And on the flip side I'm brighter. Because my darkness is comfortable. I accept that he is with me, by my side. We are content to coexist, and he allows me some sunshine. Even if only for moments so brief I can barely feel them lashing against my face. I wish for more than accidental slumbering touches. Still I get none of what I want. What I need alludes me even as the spider sits there, waiting for me to finish eating like some nursery rhyme.

The television wins because it can. I cannot argue, it does not hear. Like having an opinion. Scream from the top of the buildings, hang signs from skyscrapers and still only those that care will notice. The rest just go about their ever important lives. Lemmings to their little boxes.

The sleep will win because it has to. I need it like I need peace. My body manages to find sleep eventually. Maybe, someday, it will find peace too.

WaterFire

My apologies to the guys and girls I saw at WaterFire 2005 this year. The "Wall People" as I've been referring to them, agreed to let me photograph them as they jumped off the walls near the center of the WaterFire festival. I promised to put them in the gallery. It's taken me this long to get around to actually getting them developed. So, hopefully they're checking, here they are right in this post for you. Thanks for making the day even more interesting than it had been.

Four Walls

I have been sick. I have been lying in my room with a fever attacking me from the inside out for almost three days now. Sometimes I feel like i'm going stir crazy. These four walls I'm surrounded by are heartless, helpless friends that do little more than block out the rest of the house. Thank goodness for mothers and the internet. I've had time to think and that's never a good thing. Tonight i'm thinking about Libra.

It's been a while since I wrote about her. To tell the truth, I've been avoiding it. She's moved to California and I miss her uncontrollably. It's times like these that I remember that. Normally I'll push it down into those depths that allow us to feel and not have to face those feelings. Tonight, it's right at the surface and my mind is reeling.

How is she? I'm not sure, as it's been a few weeks since we've spoken. I find myself praying that she is okay. I find myself wishing on stars that were already used on wishes. I find myself sitting here, typing this and hoping she might read it, knowing there is not much chance of that.

Anyone who bothers to come back to this place and read my ramblings from day to day should know that I'm a lover, not a fighter. They are too, most likely, or just curious what the lovers are thinking.

Tonight i'm missing Libra. Tonight, in the midst of a fever and aches and pains and through the soft coolness of the cloth on my head, her smile and those damn beautiful eyes haunt me silently.

It took Shakespeare 115 times trying but at 116 he finally prophesied for me correctly.

Orbit

I am a planet. I have swirling, different, beautiful planets around me. I laugh with them and cry with them. Our concentric orbits fit so beautifully sometimes I can't tell who is orbiting who. They are my reasons for living. They are my reasons for sitting here spinning, always trying to defy my own gravity and fly out into the night black universe.

Should I name them all I would be here forever. Some orbit closer than others at times, but they are all there. Those planets that have pulled me with such force, making me different while i am sitting here spinning.

Sometimes we've collided. We've left great craters on each other. Still, only the surface is broken, the terrain marked with past indiscretions. The core remains unscathed and boiling with a need to have them close. Sometimes I am mundane, simple, just a man with a job and a life to survive.

Sometimes I'm a planet.

Mr. Happy Go Lucky

This absence had a purpose. I felt like writing here had turned into an outlet for only one set of my emotions. That was never it's intention. I realized that I had labeled this place for the dark and the desolate sides of myself. While I love exploring that place that is so much a part of me, I think that my presence here was overly dismal.

I'm not resolving to all of a sudden be happy-go-lucky on this website. I'm resolving to remember that the good things in my life deserve a place in the moon as well.

The sun brightens my day...
The moon brightens my soul.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
         In a kingdom by the sea,
   That a maiden there lived whom you may know
         By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
   And this maiden she lived with no other thought
         Than to love and be loved by me.

   I was a child and she was a child,
         In this kingdom by the sea;
   But we loved with a love that was more than love-
         I and my Annabel Lee;
   With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
         Coveted her and me.

   And this was the reason that, long ago,
         In this kingdom by the sea,
   A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
         My beautiful Annabel Lee;
   So that her highborn kinsman came
         And bore her away from me,
   To shut her up in a sepulchre
         In this kingdom by the sea.

   The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
         Went envying her and me-
   Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
         In this kingdom by the sea)
   That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
         Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

   But our love it was stronger by far than the love
         Of those who were older than we-
         Of many far wiser than we-
   And neither the angels in heaven above,
         Nor the demons down under the sea,
   Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
         Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

   For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
         Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
   And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
         Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
   And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
   Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
         In the sepulchre there by the sea,
         In her tomb by the sounding sea.

===Edgar Allan Poe

Change Again

Why can't it ever stay the way it is? Why does it need to change? With every change it feels wrong. It feels like dealing with things all over again. It feels like drifting apart and coming together. I can't seem to solidify anything now.

This is a sudden outburst, I'm sure you assume. This is the way the day went, cruising along and then suddenly off a cliff of realizations. Of changes, subtle and frustrating. Maybe I knew the cliff was there anyway. Maybe I drive off of them because there is nowhere else to go. The road always leads here. I never think to stop and ask for directions away from the cliff. I just drive off.

Now where do I go? Circles don't seem to work for me. I love groups of personalities, and somehow can't seem to coexist with an entire set. Some fall out of the car, others just decide they're done. Some keep riding, not really paying any attention to where we're going, who is driving. Nothing matters because something else has filled them with curiosity. So I drive the car, full to overflowing and completely empty, perfectly alone..

It's like waiting and moving. Always waiting for the moment to change again. Always waiting for the perfect, knowing the perfect was never there, and never will be. Struggles that seemed so worth it, conversations and shared emotions that seemed so crucial all disappear. Changing again into pointless, unrecorded history.

This is the end of another piece. For me. For them. For us. For the circles and the squares and the directions that have made up my life. I'm looking back on those directions I came from and all I can see is beauty and happiness. If turning around was even an option, I might try. But then I'd never see the future. No matter how bleak, existing for tomorrow is all I have left.

Story - Fiberglass Figurine Part 2

I died when I was 24. I was living in the city, working, being twenty-something. I had poker games with the guys and one night stands. I made enough money to party. I loved coke and crystal meth almost as much as I loved sex. I worked for a guy named Alex. Alex worked for another guy who worked for someone else. Somewhere in the mix, at the top, was a mob boss or something. I didn't care. I picked things up. I dropped things off. I made a lot of money. I snorted it, smoked it, fucked it away and my life was good.

I did the one thing you shouldn't do in the city. The one thing you shouldn't do when working for the "family". I pissed off someone important by accidentally telling them to go to hell and shooting them in the chest. Whoops.

I was hopped up that night. I remember it so vividly. I was dropping off a package to someone in the hills outside of town. At the time I had no idea who he was. I only knew that he was important to someone. He was well protected, well funded. He had a two-hundred-fifty dollar hair cut and a ten thousand dollar suit. No one knew his real name. Everyone called him Bobby.

When i got to the house, that night, I was escorted to a parlor. I had been instructed to deliver the package directly to Bobby. So I waited there, the heavy package in my lap, my eyes darting across the room in subtle paranoia. I could feel my high waning and longed to get up and grab my stash from the car. Instead, I ran the back of my hand across my nose, sniffing, trying to ease the urge.

When Bobby appeared he was all business. He took the package, handed me my package and I started to leave. He stopped me and asked if I wanted to see what I had brought him. I said no, it wasn't necessary but he wouldn't listen. He ripped open the padded protection and pulled the object from it's interior. It was silver plated. He showed me the engraving. The etching on the side burned itself into my memory. Adelaide.

I left. I drove straight home, doing lines in the car. When I got home, all I could do was lay there, the world around me still buzzing with intensity. Something about the entire evening felt wrong. The gun, the guy, the whole deal felt messy. I had done a lot of drop offs and nothing had ever felt so sketchy, drugs or not.

Next day, I called my connect. I asked about the job, knowing I wasn't going to get any answers. I was right, so I decided to find out myself. It felt wrong. I needed to know. I decided to head back to his house. The house in the middle of nowhere. I stopped, first, to pick up a daily dose of my favorite cocktail. My supplier worked a newspaper stand in the city. The swap was always the same, and easy after so many times. Today, though, it had to be different. Today I happened to see the paper. I saw the headline. I saw the name. I ran, without my cocktail, without my money. I ran because the words were there, behind my eyes.

Teenager Found In Local Motel
Adelaide Stevenson, daughter of local DA, was found yesterday, apparently murdered in the Lakeview motel...

I drove without seeing. The car could feel my urgency and flew down the road. When I arrived at the house, I buzzed at the gate and said I had a package for Bobby. They let me in. I walked into the parlor and he was sitting there waiting.

He stood up and leveled the gun at me. The silver plating was unmistakable. I tried to ask him why. The words wouldn't come. I realized i couldn't do anything. I didn't have a gun. I was high, angry and completely useless. I growled under my breath in frustration at having not thought this through. Bobby cocked his head to one side, looking like a curious dog. Then he lowered the gun and told me to leave. He turned to go and I lunged at him.

I managed to knock the gun from his hand before he had a chance to react. When he did react I realized what a mistake I had made. This man was not just rich and well protected. He was a killer. We rolled on the floor, he made contact over and over until i was only defending, my arms crossed in defense. When he had the opportunity, faster than i could see, he pulled a knife from the small of his back and jammed it into my chest.

He stood up, over my now immobile body, panting there on the floor. He started walking away. He yelled out to someone to go clean up the parlor. I had, in those few seconds, gotten my hands on the pistol, and gotten to my knees. Using the arm further from the knife blade still sticking out of my chest, I called out his name in a hoarse voice.

When he turned around I told him to go to hell, and shot him in the chest.

His boys came running. Some attended to Bobby. Others came to me. They picked me up, leaving the knife in my chest. I could feel myself fading as the carried me. Bobby told them to dump me. I passed out.

When I woke up, I was in a trunk. The road bounced beneath me. I tried to move my arm to pull the knife, still in my chest, out. My hands were tied. I tried to scream. I was gagged. All I could do was stare into the blackness, praying to a god I didn't believe in anyway. Until the finally opened the trunk and threw me off the bridge. I passed out before I hit the water.

I died. Not too many people can say that in the past tense. I say it all the time. The last thought I had before hitting the water and sinking to my death was of Adelaide, a girl I never knew. When I woke up I was washed up on the shore below the bridge, still tied, knife still sticking out of my chest.

I was breathing. I managed to get my hands undone, tearing the skin of my wrists in the process. Once my struggle got me free, I lay there on my back, looking up at the few stars visible through the smog. It dawned on me that I should be dead. I reached over and grabbed the hilt of the knife in my chest and pulled it out. It slid out with a soft sucking sound. It didn't hurt. I lay there, in shock, and could feel the tissue knitting itself back together. What the hell was going on? I still don't know. It's been a year. The knife left a scar. Every wound, except that one, heals perfectly.

I can't die. I don't know why yet. I haven't bothered to figure it out. After that night, I left the city and traveled on foot for months. I couldn't wrap my head around it. All I knew was I couldn't die. After a year of trying to find answers and coming up with nothing. After a year of wandering, searching for something, I returned to the beginning.

I took a cab to the front gate of Bobby's place. I buzzed. I told them I had a package for Bobby. They let me in. He saw me and his eyes almost cracked from the strain of his face. He laughed and said he was impressed that we'd both survived. He told me how foolish it was to have come back. Then he sent the boys after me.

This time he shot me in the head. No mistakes, I can imagine he was thinking. Then they drove me to a junkyard outside the city and threw me out like the garbage. When I woke up, or whatever it is, I made my way back to the hotel i had been in. I changed and called a taxi.

Finally, we have arrived. I get out and pay the man. I walk up to the front gate with the gun in my hand. I buzz at the gate. When the voice comes from inside I look into the camera...

Tell Bobby I have a package for him.

Story - Fiberglass Figurine Part 1

Tonight, I feel like a fiberglass figurine. I feel ready to burn in the blood red moon hanging over my head. This tension has me wound up tight. I need a cigarette and a good fuck. Unfortunately, I can't smoke in the cab and the only chance for any action is miles away.

I told the driver where I was going and he gave me a strange look. I didn't bother to try and explain, I only reassured him that the address was correct. He grumbled something under his voice, tapped the meter and as the red LED numbers lit up his face to match the moon, we pulled onto the street.

It's 20 minutes to my destination and all I have to do is think. I can feel the cold metal of the gun nestled beneath the shirt. I can feel my pulse beneath the metal. It's always a strange reminder. Sometimes, like now, it feels unnatural. Living feels wrong for a few days every time. Then it goes away. Then I feel whole again. Until next time.

They had tied me to a chair. They had pistol whipped me until I bled from gashes on my head and my face. They had broken my nose so many times it had looked like a crushed coke can glued to the middle of what was left of my face. Bobby had stood in the corner and chuckled the entire time. I knew it was him. I could smell his cheap, convenience store cologne.

When his underlings were done playing, Bobby told me why. He told me about her, and the silver plated gun with "Adelaide" engraved on the side. He told me how he'd raped her. How he had danced around the room, naked with the gun in his hands. The gun he'd had made to kill her. Then he explained killing her. It was more like an execution, bent over, whimpering into the cheap carpets of the motel room. When he was done with his explanation he pulled out the pistol. The silver glinted under the bare light bulbs above his head. Through the eye that was still open, I could see the engraving. Adelaide.

Through the broken parts of what had been my mouth, I managed to tell him that I was going to kill him. He just laughed. Then he shot me in the head.

That was three hours ago. I can rub my head and still feel the skin working it's way back to normal. My nose is crooked, but it'll be fine. I'll only have one scar for the rest of this existence people call a life. While the car speeds down the last few miles to the house, I rub my finger along it's path on my chest. The last scar my body ever let me have.

To Be Continued...

Scenic

Over the next few posts I will be writing some vignettes. Short stories, actually more like short scenes that I've been mulling around in my head. I will title them with "Story -" first so no one takes anything in them as my own personal thoughts, only those creative thoughts of character or overall omniscient points of view.

This Moment

I feel like a fiberglass figurine

Torch Fire

What is it about my life that seems so clandestine? There are times when I am frightened of the significance of such random and beautiful events. One occurred just yesterday.

I went to the beach to meet up with my cousin and some of her friends in the early afternoon. It was a hot, slightly hazy day and the beach was crowded. Bodies laid out to catch the UV as it made it's way lazily through the atmosphere to their skin. Bathing suits in all sizes and shapes and colors. I sat with my cousin's friend and people watched, trying to take it all in, like those people and their suntan lotion.

Then we returned to the family's cottage and enjoyed the afternoon, barbecue and pina coladas. It was wonderful to do nothing, have no definite course of action except to relax and enjoy the weather, the company and the day.

Later in the evening, after food and showers all around, we lit some fireworks. Some were legal, some not so legal, but they were all beautiful. It struck me how destruction can be so beautiful.

Then, it was time for going out. Time for relaxation of a different mind set. Time to mingle and move and flow with the people. We returned to the beach from earlier in the day, deciding to go to one of the bars along the beach front. We chose the one with barely anyone there. On the patio, people lounged, sipping their cocktails and their beers. In the back, where the dance floor was, a barrage of electronic pulsation was beating itself across the room. When we got there, few people were on the floor. One or two lonely souls were trying.

We decided, as a group, to play some pool. Since we didn't want to jump out on the dance floor and the patio seemed to have a clique/group system we didn't understand. As we began our game of pool a group of people came in and glided across the dance floor, joining some others who had already occupied a pool table behind us.

I took a shot, missed and turned for a second before returning to the opposite end of the table to give up my warped pool cue to the other team. She was standing there. The yellow of her shirt was like a sunbeam compared to the rich darkness in her hair. She caught my eye and smiled, a big, beautiful, girlish smile. Then my memory clicked. This was my favorite barista from the coffee bar. This was the girl i had spent so many summers on stage with.

I laughed and shook my head at the randomness. She gave me a hug and we played the "catch up quick, we're out at the bar with other people" game. She had moved, she had found someone good for her. She was enjoying her work. She was dancing and learning to spin techno. She was happy. It glistened in her eye when she said it.

We parted company to our groups. I laughed and relayed who she was to the people I was with, as I'm sure she did the same. We continued our game and I saw her, a few times, on the dance floor. She was moving in the swirling, strobing lights like a post-modern ballerina, at once hitting the beats with her body and flowing through them on her toes. She was beautiful.

At some point, my group decided they were leaving to try the "other" bar. They wanted to see if there were more people, better "atmosphere". I could have stayed where I was all night. I consented, though, and said I needed to say goodbye. So I waited for her to appear again, as she was not on the dance floor. When she did appear, I caught her eye and made an "i'm leaving though I don't want to" gesture. She came over and gave me a hug. I told her how amazing it was to see her.

She looked at me, those eyes so sincere, and said to me, "I'm happy, happy to see you and happy with my life. I was just telling my friends how you had been there when I was the other me and how, all those summers, you had helped me become who I am now. Thank you."

I was dumbstruck on the inside. On the outside, I smiled and told her how beautiful she was when she danced. She smiled and we said our final goodbyes and parted. I followed my friends out and we made out way to the "other" bar. This place was crowded. It had a large patio. I wound up in the corner of the patio, near the beach. There were torches burning all around the patio, maybe for bugs, mostly for atmosphere.

My group was mostly scattered, some looking for men, others looking for booze, some just wandering. I stood there, looking out at the water, and my mind was reeling. Such simple words and such perfect timing. I closed my eyes and listened to the water hitting the beach over the din of the crowd behind me. The torch fires danced in front of my closed eyelids. Danced like she had, into my life again. In that small moment, I burned a little brighter.

Hand Me A Gun

I wrote poetry and such a lot when I was younger. It wasn't all good. In fact, most of it was horrendous. Sometimes, I stumble upon something I really enjoy. This is one of them. It's rhymic and rhythmic and not perfect, but it expresses a sentiment I still love to play with.

"Hand Me A Gun"
Run and hide
Shoot the bride
Dance the dance
Ride the ride

Find the village
Count the crows
Ride disaster
Lava flows

Watch the sun
Come up and down
Fight the villain
Let it down

Mass Confusion
Full Illusion
Let the image
Let you go

Tinted windows
Looming shadows
Stilletto heels
Reels and reels

Make it, take it
Blow it up
That's the way
It's done

And when the next one
Makes a run
Life's a movie
Where's my gun

---JonShado circa 1998

50 Things...

Over at Passion The Fuz did a list of 50 things about herself. I found it incredibly enlightening even though I think I know her pretty well. Sometimes, some of the mundane things about ourselves are the things we overlook in conversation. Sometimes they're not as mundane as we think. In the spirit of the Fuz I'll start the way she did and go from there.

1. My birthday is October 19th, 1978. I was not born in the 80s.
2. I used to have a Thriller jacket that my dad bought for me when I was in Kindergarten.
3. I was in love with Alyssa Milano when I was a teenager.
4. I have two tattoos. On my left ankle is the symbol for Libra (my primary birth sign) and on my other ankle is Scorpio (since i'm on the cusp). I'm planning my next one as we speak.
5. I fell in love for the first time when I was in 6th grade. Her name was Jennie.
6. I kissed a girl for the first time when I was in 6th grade. It was Jennie.
7. I told someone I wanted to marry them when I was 14.
8. My mother signed me up for a junior theater summer program when I was ten years old. It changed my life and made me some of who I am today.
9. I am always at my most peaceful when standing on a dark, empty stage.
10. I know how to sing. I'm not the greatest singer ever, but I can hold a tune and like my voice.
11. I play the guitar. I'm a non-complex, for the enjoyment player.
12. I have an extremely eclectic taste in music. From Folk to Funk, Metal to Mahler.
13. I believe in Destiny.
14. I believe in God.
15. I believe that wishing on a star is prayer for the non-religious.
16. I have a big heart.
17. I have a big stomach.
18. I have no type, no attraction to the same thing all the time.
19. I wear size 11 shoes.
20. I wear clothes to be comfortable, then to look good.
21. I believe in chivalry.
22. I am a video editor.
23. My favorite movie is the Princess Bride, though sometimes my favorite movie is Jaws.
24. I love Martha's Vineyard.
25. I own a bright yellow Jeep Wrangler TJ Sport.
26. I've only ever cried in my car twice. Both times were because of the same person.
27. I'm sappy.
28. I only look sweet and innocent.
29. I don't really have any phobias. I'm afraid of some things, but not like a phobia.
30. I can still do a damn good cartwheel and a headstand and a handstand.
31. I can talk like Donald Duck.
32. My favorite thing, from childhood, to eat is a triple decker pb&j.
33. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that ever learned to drive correctly.
34. I'm struggling with thinking of these things to write.
35. I've been using the internet since Netscape was in version 1.0 and we used Winsock to connect through a SLIP connection at St. Joseph's College and thought 14.4 Baud modems were lightning fast.
36. I've been writing poetry since I was 12.
37. I'm obsessive about learning things.
38. I once wrote a list of rules to live by and one of them was to learn the sign language alphabet, because you never know when you're going to need it.
39. I can hear individual instruments in a song by concentrating on them.
40. I am obsessed with photography at present.
41. I've never been in a car accident that I caused. (crosses fingers)
42. seven times six is forty-two
43. I have both boxers and briefs, depending on my mood and the mood of my...you know?
44. I meditate whenever I can, often right before I go to sleep.
45. Most of my close friends are female.
46. I've never made out at the drive-in.
47. I can like Pineapple Salsa by Paul Newman.
48. I think this was harder than I expected.
49. I like pizza with bacon on it.
50. I just took 10 minutes trying to think of something to end this with.

Not Ready Yet

We were driving home from a day of music. There was something with us as we drove. Lyza Jane and Lolee were writing a story together, each taking a line, trying to make some sense from one paragraph to the next. I didn't know how it was coming out. When Lolee finally read it, I was in awe. This is their story...

6/25/05
This one time, I was taking a walk on the beach. It
was quiet, the waves crept silently onto shore. as I
walked, the fog got thicker until I could no longer
see my toes. suddenly there was a noise. I turned to
look, but all I saw was a wall of white. the fog,
misty, moving with the breeze that was coming off the
water. the smell of salt in my nose - as I nervously
licked my lips, tasting the sea. my eyes darted left
and right, my head turning from one side to another,
trying to discern which direction the noise had come
from. I felt something move across my feet - I
jumped, my heartbeat heavy in my chest. slowly I
reached down, groping in the darkness of the fog for
an answer. with another breeze a long tangled seaweed
grabbed my fingers. I laughed out loud - how
vulnerable and easily shaken I was in that place.
never was I afraid of mysterious noises or darkness in
my own home, but in the natural world, I’ve never been
able to find complete stillness, peace. I’ve always
regretted that fact. it seems so unnatural.

but each of us finds our own balance. mixing fear
with calm. all of us must confront our fears in our
own way - this was mine. always afraid of the
unknown, I had decided this evening it was time. time
to walk the beach by myself, with myself. needing to
meet the demon of my dreams head on - I could think of
no better way.

it had come to a head earlier in the week. when I had
looked upon the stars while sitting on my deck that
night. scotch in my left hand, the ice keeping my
drink cool, hearing the sweat from the glass drip drip
onto the deck. thick hot air, no breeze from the
water, the smoke from the cigarette in my right hand
lingered in the air with each exhale. I made my deal
with God that night. and tonight I was fulfilling my
end of the bargain.

a smile illuminated my face. I could feel the corners
of my mouth reaching those stars, my breath
circulating with the salty air. confidence carried my
legs toward the water. my pace quickened until water
kissed my toes. I crouched down, bringing water to my
face. it felt nice in the thick night air. I took a
step forward, and then another, then another.
suddenly I was waist deep - the sea enveloped my legs,
my torso, my fingertips. my body swayed, I danced
beneath the distant moonlight. adrenaline rushed
through my veins. freedom - yes - yes - this is
freedom. wait -

the strong undertow pulled my under, forcefully into
it's grasp - the water - I can't - breath - wait -

I’m not ready yet.
----
lyza jane & lolee

Goodbye

Emotions and Mogu Pillows

Late night and I'm driving home. I listen to this CD a lot. Tonight, though, I didn't skip around. I just let it play, window open, my hair a mess. It struck me. I listened to it 3 times before I got out of the car. The Fuz will understand.

I want you
To know me
To need me
Smile when I call your name

I want you
To never
Look at
Anyone else this way

So strange
This something
We have between us
And it's not fair
If you've never
Loved this way

Anything, anywhere
I would give everything I own away
Always I will sing
Picturing you singing right back to me

I want you
To know that
I will always have you
No matter if never
Physically in my arms again
This love
Is like
Mercury
Splitting off
Endlessly
Every time I try
To nail it down

Anything, anywhere
I would give everything I own away
Always I will sing
Picturing you singing right back to me

Too bad
The best love hurts so much
But it's so good yes
The best love hurts so much

Anything, anywhere
I would give everything I own away
Always I will sing
Picturing you singing right back to me

Anything, anywhere
I would give everything I own away
Always I will sing
Picturing you singing right back to me
Sing it right back
Sing it right back
Sing it right back
Back to me
Anything ... Anywhere

---Melissa Ferrick "Anything, Anywhere"

Silence, Like Fine Wine

I guess I talk too much. I mean, I know I'm going to get yelled at about this post. I know that the people that read it are going to roll their eyes, groan and chock it up to another "me-being-me" moment. Also, since this is me "talking" about talking too much, it's fitting for the jibes to be " You even talk too much about talking too much."

I have some interesting relationships with my friends lately. I feel like I've done well to adapt to the dynamic of the various people that are willing to spend time with me. There are those that are simple, just time spent in any capacity is good time and taken as such. There are those that are complex, an effort to maintain relations with but well worth it and never less important because of the effort. There are those that are harsh. That friendship exists behind a wall of harsh comments and jibes, which I myself partake in quite naturally, being as extroverted as I am. There are the challenging ones, the ones that call me out on being who I am, make me realize things about myself.

I think the problem with me, internally, lately, has been one of combinations. For instance, the harsh/challenging friends actually hurt sometimes without realizing it. I would never make it a point because I know it's my own thing. I know most of this post is, in fact, no need to point that out. So sometimes, when the jabs come, in combination with the challenging, in succession, from more than one person, then yeah, it hurts. Maybe, though, it's supposed to hurt a little. Perhaps examining the actual reasons for the comment, jab, challenge will help me in the long run. In the short run, though, I go "ugh" internally.

Like I said, I dish it out too. I expect the sarcasm, the jabs, the constant banter with those challenging or harsh or even complex personalities I cherish in my life. It keeps me on my toes. It keeps me feeling alive. In that context, though, boundaries get crossed. I know i've done it myself. I can almost see it sometimes, when I step too far with a jab or push one comment over the edge of "banter" and into the realm of "ouch". It's a hard game to play, a hard line to walk. So there is nothing in me that says "They're mean, I hate them" when someone steps over a boundary. They probably didn't know they did, and since they are so close to me, and since I know the boundary myself, it shouldn't be an issue.

Sometimes, though, it gets to be. One thing I dislike about the world in general is double standards. I have a whole set of my own. I hate them and am always angry when I see one come to light. So, that means, I also don't like it when they come to light from other people. That's what I feel like sometimes about this whole "you talk too much" business.

I'm loud, boisterous. Don't expect me to be that way and then, when you're "done" just expect it to shut off. Especially not in social situations. I'm just who I am.

I guess the moral of the story is that for all of my jabbing and taking jabs, sometimes, in what should be a non-contact sport, a blow gets landed accidentally. I take it the best I can. But when the same blow lands, the lack of self confidence and confidence in my ability to be worthy of my friends kicks in. Like I said, this is mostly my shit. Blogger is for therapy.

If you think I don't know silence, you don't know me very well. I have my silence, I have my time to be with myself, apart from the world and quiet. I look at my extroverted self and think of it as every day fare, a beer with lunch or casual drinks with friends. But silence, to me, is a fine wine. To be had when the time is right, savored and cherished for it's worth. I know silence well, we are old and intimate friends. Just because I don't mention her very much, doesn't mean she not a part of me.

The Grind

We're not talking about coffee either. I'd eat coffee grinds right now if I thought it would send me home. After coming back from any vacation, I never want to return to work. I know most people understand. This was even worse. There was so much about this vacation that got to the very core of me.

It's probably that place. Martha's Vineyard has a strange effect on me. I love it there. I would seriously consider living there. I don't know that I'll have the opportunity to ever live out there. One more wish to make.

Now I'm at work. I'm not even doing anything productive today. I'm just working on my own things. Doing some maintainence of a few computer issues that arose last week. Other than that, It's been a blog haven today. My hole is good for that. Sometimes I lament not having windows in my office. Then sometimes, I'm happy no one can see. That's the best freedom I can ever hope for at work.

I'll post some film pictures from the excursion when I get them back today. Until then, the digital ones can be seen in the gallery under "Travel". Enjoy!