Sunday, May 22, 2011


They’re all the same to me now – running in one long distant memory of how I thought I wanted things to be – all of it empty now – even as recent as this year – I waited in this old haunted house – high above the ocean – this house painted a grim dusty white – who knows what lives in here or what lived in here – memories of parties and outdoor barbecues – pieces of it falling off down into the ocean every winter evening – the wind blows chips of paint all over the driveway and forms a pile of pale white and orange leaves  every fall – and here I sit waiting for the mail to arrive – waiting for letters that were never sent in the first place – waiting for something to break in a good way or a bad way – waiting out storms huddles in a dark corner – there is no furniture anywhere in this house and it almost feels like there never has been – ghosts and spiders lurk in the empty closets ready to haunt my brain if I even attempt to go to sleep – I can’t sleep and never have been able to sleep here – at night a light outside keeps me awake – high on a mountain a tower with lights on it – this mysterious tower that sits there proud in the day – at night it becomes a nightmare – a giant steel gargoyle that forces my eyes open – they come and haunt me though – every last one of them and their tired conversations and gossip – do they all know each other – it would appear so – they have all learned from the same playbook – none of them loyal to one another – when I am far from here I’ll forget about it all – the same and the same -  sometimes I catch myself trying to remember who told me something – days spent absorbing teenaged philosophies and twenty-something ideas about how shit is – they have no idea – some nights I just want to say ‘go fuck yourself’ to all of it and – oh well. 

Monday, May 16, 2011


Creepy late night dreams can only keep me up so long – there are no ghosts or devils walking around in here – only made up stories to keep me awake – to give myself excuses to scare myself – I need a white room – a black room – nothing on the walls – no internet access – no toys – cacophonous music with no melody – no memories of  “oh man her eyes kill me” to keep me from the task at hand – no running arguments in my head – wherever I can pry focus from under the foot of my horribly designed brain I’ll take it – half of the time it only shows up for an hour at a time and then disguises itself as rage and anger and bad prose designed to confuse women from twenty seven years ago – (they’re not reading anyway) – when I get myself set on a goal though – a specific big goal – I can make all of this disappear – focus can easily become something else – fueled by conversations with weaklings and people I’m not going to end up caring about in a year anyway – humoring my way through a million shallow conversations -  this task – leaving this awful place and never returning – has given me enough to do for five people – I feel liberated and ready this time though – without anything else in the way I could make it happen before the days turn grey and cold again – right now though – nothing is happening here – feeling like a ghost with no home right now – no real connection to anyone or anything here – no ongoing dialog or close knit gathering of ideas – weekends blending into each other like they always have – playing this never ending waiting game – coming up from the depths of a however many months long whine festival – I feel like a pussy – I’ll go like one as well – sneak out the back door – hide for the rest of whenever – remove my rear view mirror - drive as fast as I possibly can 

Sunday, May 08, 2011


(5/?/11 – Trying to maintain without the luxury of closure is making things more and more difficult)

Spending random weekend nights walking around book stores and coming home and coming up with ideas in my head of how things should be – I don’t have to be doing this here – it’s cold and people are colder here – if I put things into action without anyone knowing – I can slip out the back door easy – I can make it by the next sunset  - this place and everything I know about it is tired and hundreds of years old – yet again though – I don’t belong to anything or anyone here – there is no sort of inspiration here – there is nothing but sadness desperation and a longing to just be left alone – I walk around on edge now – snapping at every third person who asks me a stupid question – I think back though – fucking in hotels and relishing in mountains and bright blue oceans – sure it will be different this time

I’m not bitter when they tell me of the restaurants and Radiohead concerts these dudes take them to - I’m not worried about what I need to do - it all sounds like a nightmare - courtships and checking your phone and inbox every fifteen minutes - at this point I’ll never get out of this blue without some sort of permanent damage though - these long days and longer routines I have myself involved in are eternal – I get this fire burning inside me – a hatred – a leave me alone please everything you talk about is incorrect – they try to impress or make a better joke and it falls flat – I try not to worry too much about it – trying to imagine a point in time when I can be covered in sunlight all day and covering pages and pages with words that make sense – this tries to keep me going – it’s the same tired old five hundred words I don’t even need to say though – surrounded by nothing all day – the rope is slowly becoming shorter and shorter – I feel myself ready to jump

(9/15/2000 -You put me here, I swear to fucking god you put me here. Listen, let’s try and start from the beginning. Well, no let’s not, you won’t allow that. In fact you won’t allow a word in edge wise here. You won’t let me get you a drink of water to clean your dirty soul out. You won’t allow me to do anything to you at this point. So long to the days of cheerios and stares out the car window. It’s been turned around now. It’s not the same, it’s never going to be the same. I stop. I stop everything, and now I go from town to town checking the mailboxes of housewives and thieves. These girls come up to me with a little display case that has a bunch of wedding rings in it, they tell me to pick one out for them. I pick out the ring, the best one I can see in that little leather case. I hand it to one of the girls and she says to me “this isn’t good enough for me, neither are you” and walks away. Ha! Sound familiar? Not really true but. I can’t picture what the hell you look like. When I see you from time to time you are someone else, regardless of what’s happened on the street and in the swimming pool, you are someone else. Forget your hair, forget your body, forget your clothes, you look at me differently. You don’t look at anyone like you used to. You certainly won’t give me a dime to call a taxi home that’s for sure. I bet at some point I will kick myself for not being more persistent with you. For not writing a book about you, for not taking drives off of canyons for you. I’ll regret that I didn’t take you to the edge of my head with me. I’ll regret that I ever kissed you. I’ll tell you that. I’ll tell you it was the worst night of my life. I am going to tell you that the next time I see you. I’m going to just tell you straight up that kissing you was not on my agenda. I woke up and next thing I know I’m thrown into this world of parties and bad rockabilly music and dumb drinks and even dumber shoes. I still remember where everything in that room is. I still remember where my feet landed on the floor the first time I got up. I looked at my feet to see if I could stand up. I looked to see if I would fall over. Little boys and cocaine addicts tremble, but you sort of made me tremble. Just a little bit. I get up, I get down and I turn back around again, and poof your gone. Just like that. In a cloud of perfume and menthol cigarette smoke, in a cloud of rum oxygen and conversations I get lifted certain times of the day. This fact makes me not really regret that I ever kissed you, it does however make me want to strangle Mick Jagger some nights. It makes me want to throw ashtrays against the wall. It makes me look at guys with pierced tongues and eyebrows and all of that and want to throw a hammer at them.I put these new girls to sleep at midnight. I put you to sleep when I go to sleep. You stay up with me, you out stay me every night. You don't come up for air. Relentlessly plowing through my dreams at night. Fuck that I can’t listen to your rules anymore. You fill me up from time to time, yeah. Not all the time. It’s a short and sweet time of the year right now. It’s none of what you thought it was. All along I played with that yo-yo, hoping you would follow it with your eyes enough to become a target. A target for me to throw my issues at. Like the paperboy in the morning. I’ll whip something at your screen door baby. I’ll whip my issues at your door, and you can send whoever is your pet dog at the time to go and get it for you)

(?/?/?? - Funny how time flies and they all fly away from me. They take off like pigeons. Rats with wings. They show up for a minute or two, think they got to know me, and fly away into the wind. No looking back or anything. There are no apologies. They come by the house now and again, and make believe they care, I make believe I care, and we go our separate ways. It bothers me that I put effort into things and they just sort of linger around collecting dust. It bothers me that I am not happy with all of this. There really is no reason to be happy about it. You were had honey bunch. Sipping coffee late at night waiting for the efforts to be rewarded with at least a phone call, or some sort of poem on a napkin. Any sign of anything would help out big time here with me. I don’t want to go backwards. There are people I want to hurt now. There are people from last week I want to hurt. There are people from the movie that I want to hurt. I have a few allies in this war I’m waging right now. We have secret meetings disguised as dinner dates. We look like the couple of the moment, while we plot revenge and fun things like that. She meets me for a drink and we make it back to my house. I lend her books, tell her a quick story about “this one night in Chicago a while back”, give her a peck on the cheek, and the phone doesn’t ring for fifteen weeks. The phone rings with people selling sneakers disguised as literature and shiny photography. We meet again, she never read the books I leant her, and we go our separate ways again. The next meeting of the secret ninja society will be on October 11th 2011, at the parking lot of the restaurant we always meet at. The same parking space and everything. We shall meet there, and there we will finally get to the bottom of this. The plan will be under way, and we can sit back and watch it happen. You and I, we’ll go back to the beach one more time and talk about old families, and sports and cheerleaders, and vegetarians, and Reagan. Why it always bothers me that you come around like Halley’s Comet is beyond me. You rarely have many words to say, and when you do, it’s sugar and fire all wrapped into one big kiss. You bring out the kid in me, I swear to god you do. But you ain’t going to fully understand what I have for a plan. You’re not going to help me whatsoever. It makes it weak when you add your two cents. I’ll do all the work, you watch. I got involved with this girl Diane a long time ago. The most beautiful girl you could ever imagine to see in your whole entire life. We became fast friends, and I eventually developed the biggest crush in the world on her. She was completely crazy. Her mother had died, and she lived in the attic of her aunt's house. No boys allowed. I found letters from her a while back. All sorts of shit about birds flying around her room in the middle of the night, and her mother coming in the room after she had died. I remember every once in a while she would just disappear. Weeks at a time. She would just not answer the phone. I want to see her now. I was so into her. Yikes. I’d pay one hundred dollars just to see her once and hang out. Dreadlocks and babies are all I know about her as of 8 years ago. I would be able to make more apologies if I was given the time. I never have time to apologize though. I have plenty of time to dwell on things though. I have plenty of time to hang out and watch the river flow by me for a few hours. I have no time to sit down over a cup of tea, and discuss wrongdoings. I created a clone recently that I want to show people. I created a secret ninja out of thin air. I wanted him to be just like me. Bored, lonely, misunderstood, and all of that fun stuff. I hang out with the clone all the time and he tells his friends about me, I don’t mention a word of it to anyone though. Nobody believes you when you talk that kind of game. They don’t believe in magic like that. You can make anything. You can do all sorts of things when you keep your mind to it. Pin the mind to the wheel. Pin your tail on the honkey. I enjoy my new friend. If nobody else does, well, fuck them.  There’s no way I can think back to the summer. Nights of high doubt. Nights of guilt. No I just can’t stay here tonight. Nights of feeling like a stranger. Feeling like a loser. A husband and a friend. Honest, and to the point, but a complete liar as well. Drive and use gasoline to get something you think you really need. Try it some time. Know exactly what it is you’re doing without regard to other peoples’ feelings. See how it makes you feel. Be the one who hurts others for self gain and doesn’t think about the consequences, or karma. A fake and a liar for five hours a night. I can’t get on the floor. I need to crawl across the floor. Let’s take a ride to the beach you and I. You never won my attention. But I won your's somehow. I look back and punch myself in the face for all of that. This is really what I look like, but this isn’t what I feel like. I swear to god I didn’t want to get it out of me with you. I miss you now. I kicked myself in the head last week thinking about you. Thanks for sending the karma back to me though. I deserve the games played with me now. I deserve whatever happens now. Do I really deserve this over and over though? I mean it wasn’t that long. You always initiated it. You always started it. Not saying a word to me. I knew the minute I met you that I was going to hell. I knew the minute I met you exactly what you would say to me. I knew all about you and your life. You told me in vague sentences about boys and girls and kisses and roses. I gave you ten minutes, you gave me hours, and what did I do? I took advantage of that, and now look at me. I haven’t had enough yet. I haven’t felt alive like this in a long time. Dear, I will never lie again.)

Monday, May 02, 2011

This Beach

Halfway through every tired conversation and I’m out - on the beach - at the top of a hill looking over the water - sitting on some bench  - escapism every fifteen minutes - I make jokes about how uncomfortable it all really is here - really though - I am somewhere else completely - this existence here - a failure waiting to happen - no fun in the sun to be had - losing inspiration and anything remotely creative as the days tick by -I sleep even less now - in bed by 2:00, awake at 4:30 - back to sleep sporadically for a couple of hours - listen to myself drive myself crazy all morning - driving to a routine - driving home to a routine - no sign of escape in sight - i made a horrible mistake not growing up five months ago - some days and nights I truly need to be left alone though

(10/19/10 - When I think of how angry she has made me it saddens me. Thinking about how happy we were when we met and that general way we talked to each other and talk to each other when we are in “normal” times. To go from that to the way we are now, which is just on the edge, ready to strangle each other and kill each other at any moment is shitty. Not where I wanted to ever get with her. She makes me just angry as hell. I go to sleep angry over and over with her. There were nights I wasn’t going to bed like that for a little while. At the very least  I can try and exhaust myself into sleeping every night now. I can get myself into and out of situations real easy.)

The way the November sun hit her hair was like gold - why are you talking to me - I fuck things up all the time though - I don’t follow through with them - a series of ideas and things to think about - ended - never realized until later- hmm, this would be what I would tell my therapist if I had one - that sounds like a waste of time and energy though doesn’t it?

(10/15/10 - These intense vivid memories of things her and I did, good ones and bad ones. I can remember her face but I can’t remember what it’s like to hold her in my arms. The relationship based on words and photographs. How odd. I wonder how to turn this into a story that isn’t necessarily mean or anything, but how hard I can fall with just that little part of a relationship there. Seeing each other for a year and not making it whole for long enough. I can remember all the hellos and goodbyes in airports and parking lots of hotels. Some of them after intense fights. I never had these kinds of fights with anyone before. )

Feeling suspicious and watching some people - feeling like I know motives and feelings before they happen now - weak - I stand looking clueless around - I see the clues though - disgusted even more now - knowing all of these close people lie and lie to each other - i mean granted I do too - so what’s the big deal really?

(7/31/10 - Turning into a cliche every twelve minutes of my life. Daily angst filled rants swirling around in my head.)

It’s nice to not have to answer the phone - it’s nice to not have to tell anyone about your day - it’s nice all of this - kind of just show up and talk - you get this nice circle of friends - spend some one on time with a few of them here and there - pretty girls - interesting conversations and dark eyes - any other decade and you’d be falling all over yourself - writing ill-advised notes to women who barely want to even hug you - writing horrible journal entries by hand - good God

(4/7/10 - Back in Massachusetts now. Living at home and after three nights I feel like I am ready to explode. I need to get out  and soon. She is going to come here in May to visit. The whole thing is getting weirder now, but I am just kind of going with it.)

Yeah right