The time has come. This is the final post. Dinosaur With Headphones is done.
I had hoped for my penultimate post to be the short story "Mosquitos" but I haven't finished it yet. It's proving quite difficult to reflect on and write about the special moments in my memory regarding S that that story explores. I might give up writing for good or for a while at least.
Today is R's tenth birthday and it's the right time to quit. I was driving home from work, the song "Old Old Woodstock" by Van Morrison, from the Tupelo Honey album, came on. He sings about children and cool breezes and holding the ones you love. It brought to my mind memories of being with S and R in the park, smiling laughing and happy and silly. I felt for the briefest of moments the joy I received when I first met R in the park and goofed around with her. I recalled pushing her in the swing and I recalled holding S's hand, caressing her beautiful fingers like they were autumn leaves.
The last time I saw R was over five years ago now. All I saw was the back of her head. I heard her voice and it hit me like brilliant music. But I only saw the back of her head. And the look S gave me was maybe the worst most crushing look I've ever seen. She flipped me with her eyes and I ran away.
Everything so small is so big to me. I was happy for a second today, thinking about S and R being happy and celebrating and having a good birthday.
I scored a goal yesterday and right after I scored I thought about R, laughing and smiling and I dedicated it to her. I wish them both happiness and full hearts for life.
There are a million different songs I could end this blog with but this is the song that it should end on:
Song for the ending
Love always,
just another ex
October 28, 2015
October 27, 2015
October 26, 2015
The Only Other Time I Truly Wanted To Punch Someone
We were driving back from a concert, just as the flood was hitting Iowa. It was me and her in the front, and in the backseat was her mother, her sister and her brother. Traffic was moving very slowly. We were listening to a mix cd I'd made of Okkervil River. The song "Maine Island Lovers" came on. It was quiet in the car as we listened to it. When the song was over her mother said to me, "That's a pretty song. Who is this?" Some kind of shyness swept over me, I suppose I was nervous being around her family, I wanted to belong, and I couldn't quite respond with an appropriate volume. The words "They're called Okkervil River," came out of my mouth but very quietly. The words felt awkward coming off my tongue. I looked to S to speak for me. S looked at me while I hesitated. Then she spoke for me. She told her mom the name of the band.
As we sat in traffic S was corresponding with her fiancé via text. Then he called. He was complaining about the fact that she was not back in town to pick him up from work and to pick their daughter up from daycare and get back home. He was really upset with her, as if we'd all seen the flood and the traffic coming. I did my best to calm her worries. She even texted my sister from my phone for me as I drove to get an update on the flood situation. I'll never forget what he said to her when he called. He complained about how she wasn't there to chauffeur him around (he got a D.U.I. and lost his license) and she didn't do anything but apologize. I could tell she felt she'd let him and their daughter down. She and I offered alternative solutions to his predicament, none of which met with his satisfaction, and the phone call ended with him saying to her, "Well what good are you then?!" And he hung up.
It made me sick with rage when she told me what he said. If he had been in the area I would've punched him unconscious.
What made me saddest is that after he hung up she held her phone in her lap and looked down, as if she'd done something wrong. I could tell she was sad and that she sort of believed him. She looked to be inside herself and feeling worthless and it made me disgusted that a man could ever do that to her. I wanted to hold her hand so desperately, but I couldn't because her mother, her sister and her brother were in the backseat.
I remember looking at her hands as I drove slowly with the traffic and longing to touch her, to make her smile. The feeling of being unable to make her happy was/is the worst feeling in the world.
And I remember as we drove on slowly in sad silence I recounted all the amazing ways in my head in which she was good and beautiful and wonderful and sweet and silly and incredible and I could never imagine asking her such an absurd question because she and heR were everything that is good to me.
"Maine Island Lovers" – Okkervil River
As we sat in traffic S was corresponding with her fiancé via text. Then he called. He was complaining about the fact that she was not back in town to pick him up from work and to pick their daughter up from daycare and get back home. He was really upset with her, as if we'd all seen the flood and the traffic coming. I did my best to calm her worries. She even texted my sister from my phone for me as I drove to get an update on the flood situation. I'll never forget what he said to her when he called. He complained about how she wasn't there to chauffeur him around (he got a D.U.I. and lost his license) and she didn't do anything but apologize. I could tell she felt she'd let him and their daughter down. She and I offered alternative solutions to his predicament, none of which met with his satisfaction, and the phone call ended with him saying to her, "Well what good are you then?!" And he hung up.
It made me sick with rage when she told me what he said. If he had been in the area I would've punched him unconscious.
What made me saddest is that after he hung up she held her phone in her lap and looked down, as if she'd done something wrong. I could tell she was sad and that she sort of believed him. She looked to be inside herself and feeling worthless and it made me disgusted that a man could ever do that to her. I wanted to hold her hand so desperately, but I couldn't because her mother, her sister and her brother were in the backseat.
I remember looking at her hands as I drove slowly with the traffic and longing to touch her, to make her smile. The feeling of being unable to make her happy was/is the worst feeling in the world.
And I remember as we drove on slowly in sad silence I recounted all the amazing ways in my head in which she was good and beautiful and wonderful and sweet and silly and incredible and I could never imagine asking her such an absurd question because she and heR were everything that is good to me.
"Maine Island Lovers" – Okkervil River
October 24, 2015
This is the showering song I showed to her the night that I put my fingers between her thighs as she hung her wet drying gorgeous genius head out into the after-rain drip of a weightless lifted window from our own private hotel room.
Oh, that words might matter as much as dripping rain.
"Days Were Golden" – Sunny Day Real Estate
Oh, that words might matter as much as dripping rain.
"Days Were Golden" – Sunny Day Real Estate
October 21, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Texting/Music
I had this conversation with my friend Dave quite a while ago, but I held off on posting it because I couldn't find a link to include for the song we discussed. One recently became available and I wanted to share it.
Me: Do you know greg brown's wife iris dement?
Dave: Yes I do. We used to be close, back when I still worked with and spoke to Greg. Why do u ask?
Me: Just a weird discovery. Im listening to this great recording of a song called "My Life" sung by new orleans jazz singer john boutté. i love it so i looked up the lyrics and the origin. its her song. id not heard of her before but saw she was married to greg. Figured you must know her.
Dave: She's a really good writer and we got along great but obviously haven't spoken in years now.
"My Life" – John Boutté
Me: Do you know greg brown's wife iris dement?
Dave: Yes I do. We used to be close, back when I still worked with and spoke to Greg. Why do u ask?
Me: Just a weird discovery. Im listening to this great recording of a song called "My Life" sung by new orleans jazz singer john boutté. i love it so i looked up the lyrics and the origin. its her song. id not heard of her before but saw she was married to greg. Figured you must know her.
Dave: She's a really good writer and we got along great but obviously haven't spoken in years now.
"My Life" – John Boutté
October 18, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Music
Wow. Normally, I never watch the show Saturday Night Live. I watched it last night because I heard that the cast of 30 Rock made an appearance and 30 Rock is one of my favorite shows. Tracy Morgan, one of the lead actors on 30 Rock, was in a horrific car accident a year or two ago and was in a coma and all that and apparently he's finally made a full recovery so he was the SNL host. So I watched the episode and Larry David (co-creator of Seinfeld and creator of Curb Your Enthusiasm) made a brilliant cameo as the Democratic presidential candidate Bernie Sanders.
I was happy with the episode and found it funny, which I rarely do with SNL. And then Tracy Morgan introduced Demi Lovato as the musical guest. I have heard of Demi Lovato but I have never heard her music and this song she sang blew me away. It stoned me. It made me think of "A Stone" by Okkervil River and it stoned me like any great song does. I have it on repeat at the moment. Also, she's beautiful. This performance is beautiful. I highly recommend.
"I'll take the pain, give me the truth."
"I was your amber but now she's your shade of gold."
"Know that I get even if I can't understand."
"If happy is her (hurt?), I'm happy for you."
A lot of pretty lines.
"Stone Cold" – Demi Lovato
I was happy with the episode and found it funny, which I rarely do with SNL. And then Tracy Morgan introduced Demi Lovato as the musical guest. I have heard of Demi Lovato but I have never heard her music and this song she sang blew me away. It stoned me. It made me think of "A Stone" by Okkervil River and it stoned me like any great song does. I have it on repeat at the moment. Also, she's beautiful. This performance is beautiful. I highly recommend.
"I'll take the pain, give me the truth."
"I was your amber but now she's your shade of gold."
"Know that I get even if I can't understand."
"If happy is her (hurt?), I'm happy for you."
A lot of pretty lines.
"Stone Cold" – Demi Lovato
October 17, 2015
I was thinking about S's smile. I truly miss it. I think her smile was the sweetest thing I've ever seen. It was like a sunrise and a sunset rolled into one.
And this is a song Randy Newman wrote for his ex-wife:
"I Miss You" – Randy Newman
"I miss you, I'm sorry but I do."
---
Played soccer in perfect overcast weather today. I play defense but once everyone gets tired I move forward to try and grab a goal or an assist. I ran my heart out today, trying to grab a goal to silently dedicate to my grandmother. Didn't get one but it's not a big deal. It's just a gesture.
Sigh.
I miss that S smile that smiled like it was only smiling for me. You know that feeling? Hold on to it as long as you can.
And this is a song Randy Newman wrote for his ex-wife:
"I Miss You" – Randy Newman
"I miss you, I'm sorry but I do."
---
Played soccer in perfect overcast weather today. I play defense but once everyone gets tired I move forward to try and grab a goal or an assist. I ran my heart out today, trying to grab a goal to silently dedicate to my grandmother. Didn't get one but it's not a big deal. It's just a gesture.
Sigh.
I miss that S smile that smiled like it was only smiling for me. You know that feeling? Hold on to it as long as you can.
October 16, 2015
Raking Water/Great Moments In 21st Century Texting/Chicken Salad Sequel
I was alone and bored at the Salk Institute so I decided I'd shovel some water. Today is misty, foggy and rainy in California which to me is nice. Most people in California don't like it but I do. I wanted to be outside so I went and raked some rain. I had one of those "zen" (the word "zen" should only ever be said inside quotation marks) moments. I was shoveling water from one travertine stoop to another and all of the sudden I was present. I wasn't the unhappy, sad, depressed me, I was just me.
I wasn't the me who was crying eating chicken salad.
I have had these moments before. When I was a teenager I read a lot of Buddhist philosophy books, by authors like Thich Nhat Hanh and Alan Watts, and they helped me with my anxiety/depression problems. Recently my niece was expressing concern about being able to live in the moment so I recommended that she read Become What You Are by Alan Watts. She really enjoyed it. Yesterday, I was talking to her a little bit about love and first kisses. I nearly told her about S but thank god i didn't.
I told my niece that I have a man-crush on Mark Duplass and I shared with her the short film "This Is John" because we were talking about anxiety. So then this:
Me: I have a man-crush on him [Mark Duplass]. You have any crushes these days?
Niece: Well maybe haha
Me: Besides van morrison. dude is TOO OLD FOR YOU!
Niece: hahaha pff or damien rice :P My friend Jacob.
Me: Damien Rice IS handsome. And I'm straight. Even I would find it hard to say "no" to Damien :P
Niece: Wow. If only you could choose if you were straight or not.
Me: So what's up with Jacob?
Niece: Well he's in like all advanced classes so he's pretty smart. Umm. He's pretty nerdy. :p
Me: mhmm mhmm... Okay okay... just know "advanced classes" doesn't necessarily equal "smart". He's cute though?
Niece: Well, I know but he's always butchering me with facts and I get so lost. Well I would say he's pretty cute. Do you have any crushes? You can still have those right? :)
Me: I still have a crush. It just didn't work out. She's not an option anymore. I can still get crushes.
Niece: Well I'm sure someone will come along sometime. Or you can marry Jetta!
Jetta is my sister's fat cat, and I have a funny obsession with Jetta that makes my sister and my niece laugh. So I said to my niece:
Me: You know how much I love Jetta? Well Jetta doesn't even compare. You got Jacob's number yet?
Niece: I've had it since like fifth grade. I've liked him for awhile.
Me: How does he feel?
Niece: He has liked me in the past, but you know, friends are good. I'm not sure right now. To be honest, I hate hormones. Especially when your parents get involved.
Me: Feelings are the worst. :p But they're also the point to living.
Well the conversation went on but I won't bore anybody with more. The point is I was talking with my niece about first kisses yesterday and today I recalled mine. I was shoveling rainwater out onto a brick slab and I was 15/16 and it was at night in the rainbow glow of a neon light atop an old staircase in the historic district of Lincoln, Nebraska. It was a moment like a time when all moments become one. Because I didn't just think about my first kiss, I thought about my last kiss and I thought about my best kiss. My best kiss hasn't happened yet. I've had some goddamn good ones but my best is yet to come and while I was raking water I was hopeful for a moment. I was hopeful that one day S would be wearing white, standing next to me and saying "I do" and that kiss that would come after that would be the best kiss I'd ever have. I knew in the moment of my silly dreaming that that kiss will never happen but it also was just okay to dream about it. The best kiss ever might just go unkissed. Like when we locked eyes in the rain outside the auditorium after the concert. It was okay to imagine and be hopeful. I haven't felt that in a long time and on the way home from work through the mist I got misty-eyed while singing Van Morrison's "And It Stoned Me" because that song is about those moments, those first kiss/last kiss/unkissed/best kiss moments. Those moments when raking water is equivalent to the best chicken salad sandwich ever and everything is beautiful, wrong and all right all at the same time.
I wasn't the me who was crying eating chicken salad.
I have had these moments before. When I was a teenager I read a lot of Buddhist philosophy books, by authors like Thich Nhat Hanh and Alan Watts, and they helped me with my anxiety/depression problems. Recently my niece was expressing concern about being able to live in the moment so I recommended that she read Become What You Are by Alan Watts. She really enjoyed it. Yesterday, I was talking to her a little bit about love and first kisses. I nearly told her about S but thank god i didn't.
I told my niece that I have a man-crush on Mark Duplass and I shared with her the short film "This Is John" because we were talking about anxiety. So then this:
Me: I have a man-crush on him [Mark Duplass]. You have any crushes these days?
Niece: Well maybe haha
Me: Besides van morrison. dude is TOO OLD FOR YOU!
Niece: hahaha pff or damien rice :P My friend Jacob.
Me: Damien Rice IS handsome. And I'm straight. Even I would find it hard to say "no" to Damien :P
Niece: Wow. If only you could choose if you were straight or not.
Me: So what's up with Jacob?
Niece: Well he's in like all advanced classes so he's pretty smart. Umm. He's pretty nerdy. :p
Me: mhmm mhmm... Okay okay... just know "advanced classes" doesn't necessarily equal "smart". He's cute though?
Niece: Well, I know but he's always butchering me with facts and I get so lost. Well I would say he's pretty cute. Do you have any crushes? You can still have those right? :)
Me: I still have a crush. It just didn't work out. She's not an option anymore. I can still get crushes.
Niece: Well I'm sure someone will come along sometime. Or you can marry Jetta!
Jetta is my sister's fat cat, and I have a funny obsession with Jetta that makes my sister and my niece laugh. So I said to my niece:
Me: You know how much I love Jetta? Well Jetta doesn't even compare. You got Jacob's number yet?
Niece: I've had it since like fifth grade. I've liked him for awhile.
Me: How does he feel?
Niece: He has liked me in the past, but you know, friends are good. I'm not sure right now. To be honest, I hate hormones. Especially when your parents get involved.
Me: Feelings are the worst. :p But they're also the point to living.
Well the conversation went on but I won't bore anybody with more. The point is I was talking with my niece about first kisses yesterday and today I recalled mine. I was shoveling rainwater out onto a brick slab and I was 15/16 and it was at night in the rainbow glow of a neon light atop an old staircase in the historic district of Lincoln, Nebraska. It was a moment like a time when all moments become one. Because I didn't just think about my first kiss, I thought about my last kiss and I thought about my best kiss. My best kiss hasn't happened yet. I've had some goddamn good ones but my best is yet to come and while I was raking water I was hopeful for a moment. I was hopeful that one day S would be wearing white, standing next to me and saying "I do" and that kiss that would come after that would be the best kiss I'd ever have. I knew in the moment of my silly dreaming that that kiss will never happen but it also was just okay to dream about it. The best kiss ever might just go unkissed. Like when we locked eyes in the rain outside the auditorium after the concert. It was okay to imagine and be hopeful. I haven't felt that in a long time and on the way home from work through the mist I got misty-eyed while singing Van Morrison's "And It Stoned Me" because that song is about those moments, those first kiss/last kiss/unkissed/best kiss moments. Those moments when raking water is equivalent to the best chicken salad sandwich ever and everything is beautiful, wrong and all right all at the same time.
October 15, 2015
The One Where They Say "Fuck" A Lot
One time on The Wire they wrote an entire scene of dialogue using only variations of the word "fuck". They solve a murder case using only the f-word. It's classic.
"Fuck" scene – The Wire
"Fuck" scene – The Wire
Yeah, I'm a grown man and sometimes I listen to Jewel. Sue me.
"My hands are in your hair
but my heart is in your teeth."
"Near You Always" – Jewel
Since I'm quitting my blog soon any readers can probably expect this deluge of music to continue for the next week or two.
"My hands are in your hair
but my heart is in your teeth."
"Near You Always" – Jewel
Since I'm quitting my blog soon any readers can probably expect this deluge of music to continue for the next week or two.
October 13, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Music
Played soccer today. Three assists, zero goals. Story of my life.
I had some beautiful assists. I passed a through-ball that ended in a goal and my friend that invited me gave me a high-five and said, "Iniesta style!"
It was the best compliment I've received in a while. Iniesta's my favorite player.
I like getting compliments.
---
I sang my heart out to Bruce Springsteen's Darkness On The Edge Of Town. It's one of my and my friend Dave's favorite albums.
Then I sang my heart out to Corinne Bailey Rae doing a Prince cover:
"I Wanna Be Your Lover" – Corinne Bailey Rae
I wanna be the only one you come for.
I had some beautiful assists. I passed a through-ball that ended in a goal and my friend that invited me gave me a high-five and said, "Iniesta style!"
It was the best compliment I've received in a while. Iniesta's my favorite player.
I like getting compliments.
---
I sang my heart out to Bruce Springsteen's Darkness On The Edge Of Town. It's one of my and my friend Dave's favorite albums.
Then I sang my heart out to Corinne Bailey Rae doing a Prince cover:
"I Wanna Be Your Lover" – Corinne Bailey Rae
I wanna be the only one you come for.
October 11, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Music
"In the still of the night, in the world's ancient light,
where wisdom grows up in strife,
my bewildered brain toils in vain
through the darkness on the pathways of life.
Each invisible prayer is like a cloud in the air,
tomorrow keeps turning around.
We live and we die, we know not why,
but I'll be with you when the deal goes down.
We eat and we drink, we feel and we think,
far down the street we stray.
I laugh and I cry, and I'm haunted by
things I never meant nor wished to say.
The midnight rain follows the train,
we all wear the same thorny crown.
Soul to soul, our shadows roll
and I'll be with you when the deal goes down.
Well the moon gives light and it shines by night,
I scarcely feel the glow.
We learn to live and then we forgive
o'er the road we're bound to go.
More frailer than the flowers, these precious hours,
that keep us so tightly bound.
You come to my eyes like a vision from the skies
and I'll be with you when the deal goes down.
I picked up a rose and it poked through my clothes,
I followed the winding stream.
I heard a deafening noise, I've felt transient joys,
I know they're not what they seem.
In this earthly domain, full of disappointment and pain,
you'll never see me frown.
I owe my heart to you and that's saying it true,
and I'll be with you when the deal goes down."
"When The Deal Goes Down" – Bob Dylan
where wisdom grows up in strife,
my bewildered brain toils in vain
through the darkness on the pathways of life.
Each invisible prayer is like a cloud in the air,
tomorrow keeps turning around.
We live and we die, we know not why,
but I'll be with you when the deal goes down.
We eat and we drink, we feel and we think,
far down the street we stray.
I laugh and I cry, and I'm haunted by
things I never meant nor wished to say.
The midnight rain follows the train,
we all wear the same thorny crown.
Soul to soul, our shadows roll
and I'll be with you when the deal goes down.
Well the moon gives light and it shines by night,
I scarcely feel the glow.
We learn to live and then we forgive
o'er the road we're bound to go.
More frailer than the flowers, these precious hours,
that keep us so tightly bound.
You come to my eyes like a vision from the skies
and I'll be with you when the deal goes down.
I picked up a rose and it poked through my clothes,
I followed the winding stream.
I heard a deafening noise, I've felt transient joys,
I know they're not what they seem.
In this earthly domain, full of disappointment and pain,
you'll never see me frown.
I owe my heart to you and that's saying it true,
and I'll be with you when the deal goes down."
"When The Deal Goes Down" – Bob Dylan
September 29, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Music
I just discovered this guy by accident. Listened to this song a lot today.
"North Side Gal" – JD McPherson
"North Side Gal" – JD McPherson
September 27, 2015
I really only have two projects that are near-future projects that I care about. The first is a story that blends pornography with literature, because I've been so pissed off about all the attention 50 Shades Of Grey has received, and I think pornography can (once in a great while) be true art (you can ask me if you're interested but the shortlist is Eyes Wide Shut, Blue Movie and Boogie Nights). 50 Shades Of Grey was so poorly written that it's offensive to me as a lover of language and literature. So I want to write this short story about mosquitos and about a time I came on a woman's face and she loved the mosquito bites because they reminded her of our pleasure. I will finish writing it soon and it will probably be the end of this blog.
The other piece is something I just thought up today. Lately, I've been obsessed with the art of Mark Duplass. He made this short film called "This Is John" (before he became famous) and it's about anxiety and unacceptance of one's own self. I want to shoot a short film about my anxiety, my inability to communicate properly and this tendency I have towards panic attacks.
The story will most likely be better than the short film. But I've already pretty much decided that once I post the story it'll be my last or penultimate post. I don't want any of my very few readers to be surprised when this blog ends. I think this blog has run its course. It has basically been an excuse for me to talk to S without actually talking to S and I can't do that/this anymore. If she doesn't want to or can't talk then she won't or can't. It isn't fair that she can feel "close to me" and I don't get to feel anything. Not that I mind fairness. I know life isn't about fairness, it's about circumstance. S is gone and R is gone and C is the victor. The blog will die but my heart will pound forever for S and R.
Yeah, it's corny bullshit blah blah blah.
But at least hopefully in its death I get a good short story and a half-decent short film. I want to write myself truly and film myself truly once before I hang up my boots, as they say in soccer. Cause once I give up this one-way "dialogue" with a woman who no longer speaks to me, I know I will have very little else to say to this world.
That's not her fault or her problem, it is solely mine. I knew and I said that if this one wouldn't work out I wouldn't be okay, but, like the ancient song says, "I just wasn't made for these times."
I wish that at the end of my life I could say that I never hurt anyone. But none of us will ever be able to say that will we.
My only other wish is that I could have been a better and bigger part of S's life. R's too.
I've questioned everyone and everything that's ever happened to me, I've just never questioned S. With that smile she has, how could I?
I'll never forget the look of pure bliss of S and R laying together in a hotel bed. It might be the happiest image I've ever seen. The teddy bear was a temporary addition, just like me.
I wish that at the end of my life I could say that I never hurt anyone. But none of us will ever be able to say that will we.
My only other wish is that I could have been a better and bigger part of S's life. R's too.
I've questioned everyone and everything that's ever happened to me, I've just never questioned S. With that smile she has, how could I?
I'll never forget the look of pure bliss of S and R laying together in a hotel bed. It might be the happiest image I've ever seen. The teddy bear was a temporary addition, just like me.
September 23, 2015
September 10, 2015
Sad Moments In 21st Century Thought
The reason I live in a place without seasons is because I can't stand to see the seasons change without S by my side. But no matter where one lives, there are all the signs of time advancing.
Today, as I swept the fallen red leaves from the courtyard of the Salk Institute, beneath a blue sky brush-stroked by white cirrus clouds, I thought about all the passing thoughts of her mind and all the passing moments of her and R's life that I've missed, all the moments and thoughts that have gently descended to the courtyard of the world and been brushed away by a careless broom.
A broom collects dust, it collects moments, particles, presence and energy. My broom is always dreaming of her.
I think about all the moments in her life I've missed, not been a part of, and I collect them, I imagine them in my heart and I just hope that they're lovely for her. All I get, in my seasonless world, is the dust but I always acknowledge it and hope that the dust is remnants of entirely happy moments. I just love her so much that I hope she feels loved. In the end it doesn't matter if she feels it from me or from someone else.
I'm crying listening to this song. I can never hold back tears when I think of my Spring.
I am winter, she is spring. She's autumn too. I remember everything that spring can bring. How could I forget.
"You Can Never Hold Back Spring" – Tom Waits
Today, as I swept the fallen red leaves from the courtyard of the Salk Institute, beneath a blue sky brush-stroked by white cirrus clouds, I thought about all the passing thoughts of her mind and all the passing moments of her and R's life that I've missed, all the moments and thoughts that have gently descended to the courtyard of the world and been brushed away by a careless broom.
A broom collects dust, it collects moments, particles, presence and energy. My broom is always dreaming of her.
I think about all the moments in her life I've missed, not been a part of, and I collect them, I imagine them in my heart and I just hope that they're lovely for her. All I get, in my seasonless world, is the dust but I always acknowledge it and hope that the dust is remnants of entirely happy moments. I just love her so much that I hope she feels loved. In the end it doesn't matter if she feels it from me or from someone else.
I'm crying listening to this song. I can never hold back tears when I think of my Spring.
I am winter, she is spring. She's autumn too. I remember everything that spring can bring. How could I forget.
"You Can Never Hold Back Spring" – Tom Waits
September 7, 2015
Great Moments In 20th Century Film
This speech from Robin Williams is one of the most poignant moments in film history for me. I remember when Good Will Hunting came out back in 1997. It was playing in Nebraska approximately ten months after my father died. It was about an abused guy from south Boston named Will Hunting. My father was named William Hunter, he was abused as a child and he was from south Boston. That seemed important to me at the time.
Anyway. My family (mother/stepfather/brother/sister) went to see the film in the theater, but I wasn't allowed to go because it was rated R. I saw the movie a couple years after its release. Like any great novel, album or film, it remains a friend. Robin Williams has been a part of some amazing films, including The Fisher King (made by the Monty Python member Terry Gilliam) and Awakenings (based on the book by the incredibly intelligent neurologist Oliver Sacks who just recently died), but I'll always remember him for this speech he gives about his wife dying of cancer and loving someone so much you wake up truly happy.
I went to Boston once, to visit my dad's hometown. I was texting this woman I was in love with the whole time. I missed her every second. I went to the bench in Public Garden where this scene was filmed and I stared and I dreamed about being able to love her freely. I dreamed that she felt the same way I did.
If you ever get the feeling that Robin Williams gets in this scene, stay with it. I knew someone who could level me with her eyes. S and her daughter, "cutie π". I guess in the end she was able to live with "visiting hours" and I wasn't.
park bench scene – Good Will Hunting
Anyway. My family (mother/stepfather/brother/sister) went to see the film in the theater, but I wasn't allowed to go because it was rated R. I saw the movie a couple years after its release. Like any great novel, album or film, it remains a friend. Robin Williams has been a part of some amazing films, including The Fisher King (made by the Monty Python member Terry Gilliam) and Awakenings (based on the book by the incredibly intelligent neurologist Oliver Sacks who just recently died), but I'll always remember him for this speech he gives about his wife dying of cancer and loving someone so much you wake up truly happy.
I went to Boston once, to visit my dad's hometown. I was texting this woman I was in love with the whole time. I missed her every second. I went to the bench in Public Garden where this scene was filmed and I stared and I dreamed about being able to love her freely. I dreamed that she felt the same way I did.
If you ever get the feeling that Robin Williams gets in this scene, stay with it. I knew someone who could level me with her eyes. S and her daughter, "cutie π". I guess in the end she was able to live with "visiting hours" and I wasn't.
park bench scene – Good Will Hunting
September 6, 2015
September 2, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Texting
My mother's always trying to get me to join online dating sites. She wants me to have a girlfriend and all that stuff.
Today I tricked her with some Tom Petty lyrics.
Me: So, I've started seeing someone.
Mom: What? Wait... is this a song? If that's true... tell me more... I'm on my way back to work from the eye dr so u can call me... if u want... Oh come on...
Me: That's not a song.
Mom: Tell me. Where did u meet?
Me: She's awesome. She's a good girl. Loves her mama.
Mom: Aww. Call me and tell me.
Me: Loves Jesus, and America too.
Mom: Wait... you suck. Liar. Sigh. Should have known. Your mean.
Me: She's crazy about Elvis.
Mom: Mean mean mean.
---
In S news, I was at work and realized that sometimes the thing that hurts the most is that I thought I knew her in a special way, and it pains me to think that maybe I never knew her at all. It's its own unique different kind of loss, not knowing someone so special to you. Every day that I miss of her and R's life is like a knife in my chest.
---
I sent my friends in New York a postcard today. Their house number is 109.
---
I sincerely need a blow job.
Today I tricked her with some Tom Petty lyrics.
Me: So, I've started seeing someone.
Mom: What? Wait... is this a song? If that's true... tell me more... I'm on my way back to work from the eye dr so u can call me... if u want... Oh come on...
Me: That's not a song.
Mom: Tell me. Where did u meet?
Me: She's awesome. She's a good girl. Loves her mama.
Mom: Aww. Call me and tell me.
Me: Loves Jesus, and America too.
Mom: Wait... you suck. Liar. Sigh. Should have known. Your mean.
Me: She's crazy about Elvis.
Mom: Mean mean mean.
---
In S news, I was at work and realized that sometimes the thing that hurts the most is that I thought I knew her in a special way, and it pains me to think that maybe I never knew her at all. It's its own unique different kind of loss, not knowing someone so special to you. Every day that I miss of her and R's life is like a knife in my chest.
---
I sent my friends in New York a postcard today. Their house number is 109.
---
I sincerely need a blow job.
August 25, 2015
Las Vegas Tale
I've wanted to see D'Angelo in concert for years. I still remember where I was when I first heard his album Voodoo. It was about eight years ago, I was at my brother's house in North Carolina visiting him and his wife and son with my mother, my sister and my niece. I bought this album Voodoo because I'd read that D'Angelo was a big fan of Prince and Marvin Gaye. I'm fairly cynical about contemporary music so I figured he probably wasn't that good. My family all sat down to watch a movie, I think it was either Transformers or Old School. Either way, it was a movie I didn't care to see. I was tired because I had been up all night texting this woman I had recently met, a housekeeper at the hotel where I was working, and I was starting to fall for her. So I skipped the movie, laid down on the floor in my nephew's nursery and put Voodoo on my headphones. It was a sonic blast. I've been hooked on his music ever since. (Still hooked on that woman, too, unfortunately :/ )
Last Friday I finally got to see D'Angelo perform live. I went to Las Vegas, braved the 113 degree heat, and had a blast at the concert. The audience was kind of weak, but the show was impeccable. He models his live shows after James Brown quite a bit, meaning he keeps it tight and his band is sharp. His bassist, Pino Palladino, is a legend.
Vegas itself was a stranger experience this time around. Normally I get drunk and play blackjack all night, but I didn't do that this time. As I left the D'Angelo concert I was standing on a street corner with about thirty other people, waiting for the light to change. These two drunk, scrawny, white douches came walking up to our sidewalk group. I overheard their conversation and one of them used the word "niggers". I didn't say anything, figuring no one else heard and that he wouldn't dare to say it again. The Vegas Strip population is at least 50% black. Then, this drunken idiot addresses the crowd. He announces, right in front of me, "Hey, do you guys like black guys?! Fucking niggers!" then he and his buddy laugh and stand at the front of the line as if they're untouchable. I glanced at the group of people I was standing with. There was a black guy taller and bigger than me just a few feet away, but he either hadn't heard what they said or wasn't paying attention. Now, most people probably think I'm a pussy, just because I'm sensitive, easy-going and diplomatic. I believe in non-violence. But I am not a pussy and I'm not afraid to stand up for myself or for others. Clearly nobody was going to say anything to this moron so I said, firmly, "You need to stop using that word now, please." I said it very directly while staring him down. I could tell immediately from his body language that he was going to back down, he was about a foot shorter than me and had a real douche-bag smirk on his face. He said, "It's my word, I own it." I said, "I don't care. I'm not interested in your explanations. Keep it to yourself." Then he backed down. He looked at the ground and went inside himself and quit talking.
I've never been so close to punching someone in all my life. I almost wish he hadn't backed down. I've never punched anyone and I felt the rage burning all inside me and my fists were like mallets. I wish I had punched him but at least I shut him up.
---
My other Vegas adventures included a visit to Bauman Rare Books, a bookstore that deals in expensive collector's items, where I met Debbie, whom I had a nice conversation with about James Joyce and classic literature. I went through the store's collection when I came across a rare edition of Ulysses that was illustrated by the artist Henri Matisse and autographed by Matisse. They also had a first edition copy of Finnegans Wake by James Joyce, autographed by the author. It was $21,000. I stared at it for a long time in its glass case, then I went up to Debbie. I was clearly not a buyer, but I figured it couldn't hurt to ask. I said, "How impossible would it be for me to see one of the books in the case there?" She laughed and said, "Which one?" I told her I wanted to look at Finnegans Wake and she obliged. Presumably because the store wasn't busy and because she could sense that I was a real fan and not many people ask to see a James Joyce book in Las Vegas (while I was staring at it in the glass, I listened to her discussing James Bond novels with a dude in flip-flops). She got the book out for me and laid it on the table. I said, "Can I touch it? I don't need to wash my hands?" She let me hold it and look through it. She asked me if I was a fan and I said, "Absolutely. I actually have a tattoo on my arm from Finnegans Wake in Joyce's handwriting." I opened the book and stared at his autograph. It was incredible. I was holding a copy of Finnegans Wake that Joyce had held. We talked about his autograph, I pointed out that it was interesting he had chosen green ink. Debbie said that he probably chose it so that it would stand out on the paper and then she told me that Virginia Woolf used to autograph her works in purple ink. I flipped through the book and told Debbie I just wanted to read the final passage, so I sat and read the last couple pages.
I thanked Debbie profusely and left the store feeling overwhelmed. I actually had to sit down on a bench for a few minutes because my head was spinning.
---
I was hoping to get laid in Vegas, but I have no skills.
Hopefully I get laid soon. But life, pleasure, happiness and getting laid don't feel like they used to anyway, without her. Life without my heart, both pieces, is suffering. It's like D'Angelo sings, "I used to get real high, now I just get a buzz."
Last Friday I finally got to see D'Angelo perform live. I went to Las Vegas, braved the 113 degree heat, and had a blast at the concert. The audience was kind of weak, but the show was impeccable. He models his live shows after James Brown quite a bit, meaning he keeps it tight and his band is sharp. His bassist, Pino Palladino, is a legend.
Vegas itself was a stranger experience this time around. Normally I get drunk and play blackjack all night, but I didn't do that this time. As I left the D'Angelo concert I was standing on a street corner with about thirty other people, waiting for the light to change. These two drunk, scrawny, white douches came walking up to our sidewalk group. I overheard their conversation and one of them used the word "niggers". I didn't say anything, figuring no one else heard and that he wouldn't dare to say it again. The Vegas Strip population is at least 50% black. Then, this drunken idiot addresses the crowd. He announces, right in front of me, "Hey, do you guys like black guys?! Fucking niggers!" then he and his buddy laugh and stand at the front of the line as if they're untouchable. I glanced at the group of people I was standing with. There was a black guy taller and bigger than me just a few feet away, but he either hadn't heard what they said or wasn't paying attention. Now, most people probably think I'm a pussy, just because I'm sensitive, easy-going and diplomatic. I believe in non-violence. But I am not a pussy and I'm not afraid to stand up for myself or for others. Clearly nobody was going to say anything to this moron so I said, firmly, "You need to stop using that word now, please." I said it very directly while staring him down. I could tell immediately from his body language that he was going to back down, he was about a foot shorter than me and had a real douche-bag smirk on his face. He said, "It's my word, I own it." I said, "I don't care. I'm not interested in your explanations. Keep it to yourself." Then he backed down. He looked at the ground and went inside himself and quit talking.
I've never been so close to punching someone in all my life. I almost wish he hadn't backed down. I've never punched anyone and I felt the rage burning all inside me and my fists were like mallets. I wish I had punched him but at least I shut him up.
---
My other Vegas adventures included a visit to Bauman Rare Books, a bookstore that deals in expensive collector's items, where I met Debbie, whom I had a nice conversation with about James Joyce and classic literature. I went through the store's collection when I came across a rare edition of Ulysses that was illustrated by the artist Henri Matisse and autographed by Matisse. They also had a first edition copy of Finnegans Wake by James Joyce, autographed by the author. It was $21,000. I stared at it for a long time in its glass case, then I went up to Debbie. I was clearly not a buyer, but I figured it couldn't hurt to ask. I said, "How impossible would it be for me to see one of the books in the case there?" She laughed and said, "Which one?" I told her I wanted to look at Finnegans Wake and she obliged. Presumably because the store wasn't busy and because she could sense that I was a real fan and not many people ask to see a James Joyce book in Las Vegas (while I was staring at it in the glass, I listened to her discussing James Bond novels with a dude in flip-flops). She got the book out for me and laid it on the table. I said, "Can I touch it? I don't need to wash my hands?" She let me hold it and look through it. She asked me if I was a fan and I said, "Absolutely. I actually have a tattoo on my arm from Finnegans Wake in Joyce's handwriting." I opened the book and stared at his autograph. It was incredible. I was holding a copy of Finnegans Wake that Joyce had held. We talked about his autograph, I pointed out that it was interesting he had chosen green ink. Debbie said that he probably chose it so that it would stand out on the paper and then she told me that Virginia Woolf used to autograph her works in purple ink. I flipped through the book and told Debbie I just wanted to read the final passage, so I sat and read the last couple pages.
I thanked Debbie profusely and left the store feeling overwhelmed. I actually had to sit down on a bench for a few minutes because my head was spinning.
---
I was hoping to get laid in Vegas, but I have no skills.
Hopefully I get laid soon. But life, pleasure, happiness and getting laid don't feel like they used to anyway, without her. Life without my heart, both pieces, is suffering. It's like D'Angelo sings, "I used to get real high, now I just get a buzz."
 |
August 17, 2015
August 15, 2015
Some thoughts from Coleridge
"While most were wooing wealth, or gaily swerving
To pleasure's secret haunts, and some apart
Stood strong in pride, self-conscious of deserving,
To you I gave my whole weak wishing heart."
---
"Here I stand, a hopeless man and sad,
Who hoped to have seen my Love, my Life.
And strange it were indeed, could I be glad
Remembering her, my soul's betrothed wife.
For in this world no creature that has life
Was e'er to me so gracious and so good.
Her loss is to my Heart, like the Heart's blood."
To pleasure's secret haunts, and some apart
Stood strong in pride, self-conscious of deserving,
To you I gave my whole weak wishing heart."
---
"Here I stand, a hopeless man and sad,
Who hoped to have seen my Love, my Life.
And strange it were indeed, could I be glad
Remembering her, my soul's betrothed wife.
For in this world no creature that has life
Was e'er to me so gracious and so good.
Her loss is to my Heart, like the Heart's blood."
August 10, 2015
This Heartless Pain/My Joys Unshared
More than any friends, family members and acquaintances I've lost along this long lonely way, I miss her friendship most. Her'S and heR's.
I wonder if all the smiles she gave me that I dream upon were false.
---
"How are ye gone, whom most my soul held dear!
Scarce had I lov'd you, ere I mourn'd you lost;
Say, is this hollow eye, this heartless pain,
Fated to rove thro' Life's wide cheerless plain—
Nor father, brother, sister meet its ken—
My woes, my joys unshared! Ah! long ere then
On me thy icy dart, stern Death, be prov'd;—
Better to die, than live and not be lov'd!" – S.T. Coleridge
---
All the poetry in the world, down through all the history of existence, can't return a lost heart. Not even the truest haiku.
I wonder if all the smiles she gave me that I dream upon were false.
---
"How are ye gone, whom most my soul held dear!
Scarce had I lov'd you, ere I mourn'd you lost;
Say, is this hollow eye, this heartless pain,
Fated to rove thro' Life's wide cheerless plain—
Nor father, brother, sister meet its ken—
My woes, my joys unshared! Ah! long ere then
On me thy icy dart, stern Death, be prov'd;—
Better to die, than live and not be lov'd!" – S.T. Coleridge
---
All the poetry in the world, down through all the history of existence, can't return a lost heart. Not even the truest haiku.
August 2, 2015
Great Moments In 20th Century Music
Nina Simone has long been one of my favorite musicians. She was an incredible pianist and singer, and she was courageous with her music too. I wanted to do something special for this song, because it's so beautiful, so I took my camcorder to the lake at a library near my house and shot some visuals to complement the recording.
It's a song called "I Get Along Without You Very Well (Except Sometimes)". It's an old song written by Hoagy Carmichael that has been covered by tons of different artists, but Nina's version is the best, in my opinion. It's from my favorite album of hers, Nina Simone And Piano!.She sings the lonely lyrics so gorgeously. It's about lying to yourself, telling yourself you don't need that special person, the one you love.
Sigh. I can't believe R will be ten in a few months. I can't believe I don't know her, or S.
Double sigh. What is life without a heart?
It's a song called "I Get Along Without You Very Well (Except Sometimes)". It's an old song written by Hoagy Carmichael that has been covered by tons of different artists, but Nina's version is the best, in my opinion. It's from my favorite album of hers, Nina Simone And Piano!.She sings the lonely lyrics so gorgeously. It's about lying to yourself, telling yourself you don't need that special person, the one you love.
Sigh. I can't believe R will be ten in a few months. I can't believe I don't know her, or S.
Double sigh. What is life without a heart?
August 1, 2015
I met a bunch of new people at a little get-together tonight at a house on the beach. It was about five women and five or six men. I spent the first part of the evening conversing with the women and the latter part in conversation with the men. Everyone was very pleasant, enjoyable, and for the most part intelligent, but as with any group of people who are drinking they were all moving in and out of their own pockets of intoxication.
One thing that never fails to make me awkward is when guys start complaining about their relationships, or making jokes about the needs of their women. Hopefully this isn't too shocking but yes, ladies, men actually sit around and complain about their relationships. Much more than they appreciate them. Me and four other guys were sitting around a fire with some beers and talking about relationships. They were complaining about how hard it is and how demanding women can be, in that I'm-joking-but-I'm-also-serious kind of way. I didn't say much, I just made those capitulatory noises we all make when we don't want to say anything. And all I could think was, "If I had a strong, opinionated, intelligent, emotional, sweet and funny woman in my life I would brag about her all the time."
S knew that. She knew I was viciously proud of her.
Then again, they're the ones in relationships, and I'm the loser at home alone.
The moon was high and full and very bright tonight.
The moon was high and full and very bright tonight.
July 29, 2015
I've been having such sorrowful dreams.
Today my dream started out back in the basement of a house that doesn't exist but that is a real place. I was going back to work with the kids I used to work with, and as I was moving my stuff in these other people were getting in my way and starting to take up the space. I moved my bed in and they put a couch in front of it and just laid on the bed and sat on the couch, ignoring me. They were nudging me out and so I had to go wander. I wandered around the fictional corridors of this mansion-sized basement, feeling blue, unwanted and displaced.
Then I remember somehow I was suddenly wandering the streets of Lincoln on a wet gray day. As I was walking, downcast, I came across the first girl I ever had a crush on back in elementary school. Her name was Melanie. I liked her because she was pretty, sweet, shy and goofy. She was grown up in my dream and we flirted a bit, then she let me take her on a walk. She looked down and asked me about my shoes. We were both wearing white shoes but mine were very dirty. She said that she loved wearing white shoes, and I said me too, and then I tried to explain that I normally don't let them get this dirty because I was embarrassed. Then I looked down again and my shoes had turned into my black work shoes.
I asked about her life and she said that she had so much to tell me, with a big excited smile on her face, but that I probably wasn't interested. I told her of course I was interested, and she was happy I was interested. I was having those early feelings you get when you meet somebody new and it feels sweet, swellingly sweet. I had longed for that feeling and that connection. We stopped for coffee at this open shop, and at one of the tables in the shop a bunch of guys that I used to know were sitting around it. I try to avoid eye contact because I just wanted to keep walking with Melanie. But they were staring at me so I gave them a head nod and then Melanie and I left.
I haven't described everything in the dream, but I know what the dream meant.
It was about second chances. Wanting to go back and redo things in my life, do them differently, do them better, etc. Wanting a do-over, wanting to re-connect to life and to being and to being with someone warm and sweet and funny and kind. Wanting to be better at being me.
But it was only a dream.
Like F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote in an unfinished novel, "There are no second acts in American lives."
Once you dirty your white shoes, there is no going back.
Today my dream started out back in the basement of a house that doesn't exist but that is a real place. I was going back to work with the kids I used to work with, and as I was moving my stuff in these other people were getting in my way and starting to take up the space. I moved my bed in and they put a couch in front of it and just laid on the bed and sat on the couch, ignoring me. They were nudging me out and so I had to go wander. I wandered around the fictional corridors of this mansion-sized basement, feeling blue, unwanted and displaced.
Then I remember somehow I was suddenly wandering the streets of Lincoln on a wet gray day. As I was walking, downcast, I came across the first girl I ever had a crush on back in elementary school. Her name was Melanie. I liked her because she was pretty, sweet, shy and goofy. She was grown up in my dream and we flirted a bit, then she let me take her on a walk. She looked down and asked me about my shoes. We were both wearing white shoes but mine were very dirty. She said that she loved wearing white shoes, and I said me too, and then I tried to explain that I normally don't let them get this dirty because I was embarrassed. Then I looked down again and my shoes had turned into my black work shoes.
I asked about her life and she said that she had so much to tell me, with a big excited smile on her face, but that I probably wasn't interested. I told her of course I was interested, and she was happy I was interested. I was having those early feelings you get when you meet somebody new and it feels sweet, swellingly sweet. I had longed for that feeling and that connection. We stopped for coffee at this open shop, and at one of the tables in the shop a bunch of guys that I used to know were sitting around it. I try to avoid eye contact because I just wanted to keep walking with Melanie. But they were staring at me so I gave them a head nod and then Melanie and I left.
I haven't described everything in the dream, but I know what the dream meant.
It was about second chances. Wanting to go back and redo things in my life, do them differently, do them better, etc. Wanting a do-over, wanting to re-connect to life and to being and to being with someone warm and sweet and funny and kind. Wanting to be better at being me.
But it was only a dream.
Like F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote in an unfinished novel, "There are no second acts in American lives."
Once you dirty your white shoes, there is no going back.
July 24, 2015
I went with my friend Teasha to see the new Woody Allen movie Irrational Man. I have a bit of a man-crush on Joaquin Phoenix, I think he's an incredible actor, and I go see most of his movies in the theater. Woody Allen is always hit or miss, and for me personally, this one was a hit. I read unfavorable reviews before I went to see it and so I was a bit discouraged, thinking it wasn't going to be very good. But I think it was awesome, Joaquin was fantastic, as was Emma Stone whom I've never really seen act before (though her cameo on 30 Rock is hilarious). She was wonderful.
The movie continues the long explored themes of existentialism within Woody Allen's work.
I thought all aspects of the film came together very well, and I was also really impressed with the cinematography, so I looked up the cinematographer. It's Darius Khondji, and he has a long list of great credits. He shot David Fincher's Seven, and this really beautiful French film I watched not too long ago called Amour.
Anyway. I love Joaquin Phoenix and I really liked this film. And I came here to talk to myself about it because there is no one else to talk to.
---
There was a picnic day at the Salk Institute today, for all the employees. There is this beautiful woman who works in one of the labs, and I saw her sitting on the grass alone. She looks a lot like someone that I used to know. I really wanted to muster the courage to go and talk to her, to introduce myself, to go out on a limb, to try, but I couldn't. I couldn't try. I am too sad to try, and I've already failed enough in this life.
I hung out with my co-worker's 5-year-old daughter and had her laughing all afternoon. We were being goofy together. She counted by 10s to 100 to impress me. Then I said I could do it too. I counted, "Ten, eighteen, fourty-four, ninety-eight, four thousand!" She laughed and laughed.
The movie continues the long explored themes of existentialism within Woody Allen's work.
I thought all aspects of the film came together very well, and I was also really impressed with the cinematography, so I looked up the cinematographer. It's Darius Khondji, and he has a long list of great credits. He shot David Fincher's Seven, and this really beautiful French film I watched not too long ago called Amour.
Anyway. I love Joaquin Phoenix and I really liked this film. And I came here to talk to myself about it because there is no one else to talk to.
---
There was a picnic day at the Salk Institute today, for all the employees. There is this beautiful woman who works in one of the labs, and I saw her sitting on the grass alone. She looks a lot like someone that I used to know. I really wanted to muster the courage to go and talk to her, to introduce myself, to go out on a limb, to try, but I couldn't. I couldn't try. I am too sad to try, and I've already failed enough in this life.
I hung out with my co-worker's 5-year-old daughter and had her laughing all afternoon. We were being goofy together. She counted by 10s to 100 to impress me. Then I said I could do it too. I counted, "Ten, eighteen, fourty-four, ninety-eight, four thousand!" She laughed and laughed.
July 23, 2015
Great Moments In 20th Century Music and other thoughts
Picked up a copy of a book entitled All My Puny Sorrows by Canadian author Miriam Toews from the library. I'm not familiar with her work, but I discovered her on the McSweeney's website. The title intrigued me enough to read the description and the description intrigued me enough to get the book. I'm looking forward to reading it. It's about the relationship between two sisters, one of whom suffers from manic depression and wants to end her life. I don't read many contemporary novels, but some minor research into the author and the work has already led me to a promising film called Silent Light by a Mexican director, which I'm looking forward to seeing, and to the poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (the title of Toews' novel is apparently derived from one of his poems).
---
The other day at soccer the organizer, an older man from South Africa, asked about the redness on my legs. I told him I have psoriasis. He went off on a tangent about how I need to get it taken care of, he asked me if I have a woman (I don't) and then he said I will never get one until I do. I didn't disagree with him, but the way he put it was tactless.
Who cares. I'll never love again anyway. Love is a joke.
---
I miss S and R's voices. They were the happiest most beautiful music to me.
---
Anyway, remember how awesome Lauryn Hill is?
Here's a great song you should love: "Ex-Factor" – Lauryn Hill
---
The other day at soccer the organizer, an older man from South Africa, asked about the redness on my legs. I told him I have psoriasis. He went off on a tangent about how I need to get it taken care of, he asked me if I have a woman (I don't) and then he said I will never get one until I do. I didn't disagree with him, but the way he put it was tactless.
Who cares. I'll never love again anyway. Love is a joke.
---
I miss S and R's voices. They were the happiest most beautiful music to me.
---
Anyway, remember how awesome Lauryn Hill is?
Here's a great song you should love: "Ex-Factor" – Lauryn Hill
July 16, 2015
July 12, 2015
July 11, 2015
When it comes to playing soccer, I am somewhere between mediocre and average. Once in a while I play really well, once in a while I play horribly, but most of the time I play okay and don't make too many mistakes. The collection of people I play with has mostly very good players, players better than me. A few of them are actually great and a few others are at about the same level as me, and the rest of them are very good.
Today I played the best game I've ever played. I play in a defensive position but I was all over the field today. I was stealing the ball and blocking my opponents on defense, then I was dribbling, shooting, scoring and assisting on offense. I was really proud of the way I played today. I scored 3 goals (a hat trick), made 2 assists, and had a few key passes. Maybe the U.S. Women's team inspired me, or maybe it was the omelet I ate for brunch, but even the opposing team was giving me high-fives.
I wish I had a woman to come home to so that I could feel proud for a moment, a woman who would be impressed with me and who would reward me with some playful flirting. I'm not a bragger and self-esteem is a foreign concept to me, but it's nice when someone loves you and you can impress them in a silly way. I would tell her how great I did, for once, and she'd smile and be happy for me and I might even get a kiss (after I showered, of course).
I wish I had someone to count on and to be happy about the little things with. Without her, it all seems so hollow.
Today I played the best game I've ever played. I play in a defensive position but I was all over the field today. I was stealing the ball and blocking my opponents on defense, then I was dribbling, shooting, scoring and assisting on offense. I was really proud of the way I played today. I scored 3 goals (a hat trick), made 2 assists, and had a few key passes. Maybe the U.S. Women's team inspired me, or maybe it was the omelet I ate for brunch, but even the opposing team was giving me high-fives.
I wish I had a woman to come home to so that I could feel proud for a moment, a woman who would be impressed with me and who would reward me with some playful flirting. I'm not a bragger and self-esteem is a foreign concept to me, but it's nice when someone loves you and you can impress them in a silly way. I would tell her how great I did, for once, and she'd smile and be happy for me and I might even get a kiss (after I showered, of course).
I wish I had someone to count on and to be happy about the little things with. Without her, it all seems so hollow.
July 7, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Television
I probably never would've watched The Office if not for the fact that it's my sister's favorite show.
This scene always reminds me of a moment I shared with Jerry, a coworker of mine who died in a car accident. He was one of the only people I ever spoke to openly about my feelings for S. He and I were cleaning the walls of a flooded room, listening to Hispanic music from the radio. I told him how I felt about S and he was surprised. He told me to go for it.
It's funny, I remember the first time I ever made S laugh/smile. We were in a staff meeting and I was making jokes to her about how awesome Jerry was and how he and I "go way back". I'll never forget the first time I made her laugh.
And I remember Jerry's funeral, when I held R's hand.
I miss Jerry sometimes.
I miss S and R always.
"Don't give up." – The Office
This scene always reminds me of a moment I shared with Jerry, a coworker of mine who died in a car accident. He was one of the only people I ever spoke to openly about my feelings for S. He and I were cleaning the walls of a flooded room, listening to Hispanic music from the radio. I told him how I felt about S and he was surprised. He told me to go for it.
It's funny, I remember the first time I ever made S laugh/smile. We were in a staff meeting and I was making jokes to her about how awesome Jerry was and how he and I "go way back". I'll never forget the first time I made her laugh.
And I remember Jerry's funeral, when I held R's hand.
I miss Jerry sometimes.
I miss S and R always.
"Don't give up." – The Office
July 1, 2015
"Do you remember all of those pledges
that we pledged in the passionate night?
They're soiled now, they're torn at the edges,
like moths on a still yellow light.
No penance serves to renew them,
no massive transfusions of trust.
Why, not even revenge can undo them,
so twisted these vows and so crushed.
Children have taken these pledges,
they have ferried them out of the past.
Beyond all the graves and the hedges
where love must go hiding at last.
And here where there is no description,
here in the moment at hand,
no sinner need rise up forgiven,
no victim need limp to the stand.
And look, dear heart, look at the virgin.
Look how she welcomes him into her gown.
Yes and mark how the stranger's cold armor
dissolves like a star falling down.
Why trade this vision for desire
when you may have them both?
You will never see a man this naked,
I will never hold a woman this close."
– Leonard Cohen
that we pledged in the passionate night?
They're soiled now, they're torn at the edges,
like moths on a still yellow light.
No penance serves to renew them,
no massive transfusions of trust.
Why, not even revenge can undo them,
so twisted these vows and so crushed.
Children have taken these pledges,
they have ferried them out of the past.
Beyond all the graves and the hedges
where love must go hiding at last.
And here where there is no description,
here in the moment at hand,
no sinner need rise up forgiven,
no victim need limp to the stand.
And look, dear heart, look at the virgin.
Look how she welcomes him into her gown.
Yes and mark how the stranger's cold armor
dissolves like a star falling down.
Why trade this vision for desire
when you may have them both?
You will never see a man this naked,
I will never hold a woman this close."
– Leonard Cohen
June 29, 2015
June 27, 2015
June 25, 2015
A lot of days I feel inadequate.
A lot of days I feel like she stopped loving me because I wasn't man enough in some way.
A lot of days I wish I knew what I did wrong to make her stop.
A lot of days I wish I could prove to her I can be the man she wants/deserves.
Pretty much every days.
---
I think I'm moving to New Orleans.
A lot of days I feel like she stopped loving me because I wasn't man enough in some way.
A lot of days I wish I knew what I did wrong to make her stop.
A lot of days I wish I could prove to her I can be the man she wants/deserves.
Pretty much every days.
---
I think I'm moving to New Orleans.
June 20, 2015
Third Eye Blind released a new album and they kicked off the release with a cover of a Beyoncé song.
"Mine" – Third Eye Blind
"Mine" – Third Eye Blind
June 18, 2015
I feel sorry for the president. How many fucking times is Obama going to have to deliver a eulogy in the aftermath of a mass shooting?
I saw the headline this morning about the shooting in North Carolina, and I lost it. Despite being a nonviolent person, every time I see a photo of one of these idiotic shooters I just want to beat them with a spiked baseball bat.
I saw the headline this morning about the shooting in North Carolina, and I lost it. Despite being a nonviolent person, every time I see a photo of one of these idiotic shooters I just want to beat them with a spiked baseball bat.
June 17, 2015
June 16, 2015
Marilyn Monroe
It's Bloomsday. The day that fans of James Joyce's Ulysses celebrate the author and his book.
The entire book takes place over the course of one day, June 16, 1904.
The reason Joyce chose June 16, 1904, is because that is the day when he first met the love of his life, Nora. He met her where she was working, which was in a hotel.
Happy Bloomsday, everyone.
Sigh.
"... her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood." – JameS Joyce
The entire book takes place over the course of one day, June 16, 1904.
The reason Joyce chose June 16, 1904, is because that is the day when he first met the love of his life, Nora. He met her where she was working, which was in a hotel.
Happy Bloomsday, everyone.
Sigh.
"... her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood." – JameS Joyce
June 13, 2015
my own cliché and archetype
You know what sucks? S used to be the one I could talk to about anything at anytime, and here it is past 11:00 pm and I have no one in my Rolodex willing to talk to me. I was rewatching the film Cast Away and realized that there is a profound connection between the archetypal and the clichéd. Writers such as Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell wrote about the archetypes in human mythology, but I didn't realize how clichéd they could be. And I was thinking how incredibly difficult (nearly impossible) it is to create a new archetype. Works of art like Buffy The Vampire Slayer haven't destroyed any archetypes but they have destroyed clichés.
I wish I could articulate what I'm thinking and wondering but it takes two people to flesh out a conversation.
... Long-winded way of saying, yet again, I miss S.
I wish I could articulate what I'm thinking and wondering but it takes two people to flesh out a conversation.
... Long-winded way of saying, yet again, I miss S.
June 11, 2015
I played quite well today. I scored four goals and made two or three assists, as well as two or three key passes.
I also made up a dumb joke. It goes like this:
Which blud type is a universil donor?
Typo.
---
I hope it makes S laugh. If it makes her smile, then my day was worth living through.
---
I met a little girl, age seven or so, at the water fountain in the park. I was filling my water bottle and she was attempting to fill her green pale but she wasn't having much luck. I goofed around with her. I asked her if she was trying to make mud out of the sand and she laughed. She couldn't fill her bucket so I poured the water from my bottle into it and she skipped away happily. It was a nice moment. The whole while I was thinking of R, of course. I haven't felt truly goofy with anyone in a long while. I miss S and R. My heart longs to be goofy with my two favorite goofballs.
But such is life. At least I have the memory of them.
I hope it makes S laugh. If it makes her smile, then my day was worth living through.
---
I met a little girl, age seven or so, at the water fountain in the park. I was filling my water bottle and she was attempting to fill her green pale but she wasn't having much luck. I goofed around with her. I asked her if she was trying to make mud out of the sand and she laughed. She couldn't fill her bucket so I poured the water from my bottle into it and she skipped away happily. It was a nice moment. The whole while I was thinking of R, of course. I haven't felt truly goofy with anyone in a long while. I miss S and R. My heart longs to be goofy with my two favorite goofballs.
But such is life. At least I have the memory of them.
June 9, 2015
June 7, 2015
Barcelona made history yesterday. As I was driving home after watching the match the only thing I could think about was how much better it would be to have a woman to go home to that would appreciate my enthusiasm. It's not about sharing the same interests, but about caring what the other person cares about.
It was a fantastic final to a marvelous season for Neymar, Messi, Iniesta and all of Barcelona. But without a silly sweet kiss from S, it just meant nothing to me.
It was a fantastic final to a marvelous season for Neymar, Messi, Iniesta and all of Barcelona. But without a silly sweet kiss from S, it just meant nothing to me.
June 5, 2015
Every time I realize I'll never again get to hold her late at night, I'll never again get to be in those intimate moments with her when her heart is beating and her face is smiling and she is happy, I realize there is no inspiration left in my life. Every motivation I ever knew was because I wanted to make her world a pleasant place. Every word I wrote, every flower I sent, every look I gave and every touch I made was meant to please her. When I think of her and I see her smile, I dream of writing her gorgeous songs, of captivating her attention, of explaining properly what she does to me, of fulfilling her heart.
I wish I could give her everything. I wish I was the one for her.
I never cared for anyone like I care for them both. And I never felt an emptier more fiery missing. It doesn't matter how hard I try to rebuild myself, I crumble at every memory.
I have no heart.
June 3, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Television
This is one of my favorite scenes in television history, because it's basically exactly what would happen to me if I ever met a rapper (except for the "too lazy" part):
Larry David meets Krazee Eyez Killah – Curb Your Enthusiasm
For the sake of discretion though, it's not TV. It's HBO.
Larry David meets Krazee Eyez Killah – Curb Your Enthusiasm
For the sake of discretion though, it's not TV. It's HBO.
Great Moments In 20th Century Music
"Troy (live)" – Sinéad O'Connor
For various reasons I was thinking heavily about Irish music today. I realized that Damien Rice is a male version of Sinéad O'Connor. Both of them being Irish musicians, they owe a great deal to Van Morrison, and neither would argue with that. I just never noticed the influence of Sinéad on Damien until today. They both have a ferocious, attacking approach to the guitar and to lyrics.
Another reason "Troy" is brilliant is that it references Irish poet W.B. Yeats's poem "No Second Troy" which is based on the ancient texts of Homer, one of the oldest poets known to mankind.
---
I stared at S's photo all day. I miss her. My body and my soul aches for her. She is so beautiful. She could start wars (like Helen of Troy). And myself, like the ancient fools of old, should be content that her eyes once stooped to gaze upon me for a brief moment. But there is little consolation in realizing one's own insignificance. I'd rather have her smile kiss me one more time, and after that I could exit life unbegrudgingly. If her lips were coated with poison and they kissed me into death I could die content. Instead, I am what I aaaaaaaaaam.
I miss my woman.
For various reasons I was thinking heavily about Irish music today. I realized that Damien Rice is a male version of Sinéad O'Connor. Both of them being Irish musicians, they owe a great deal to Van Morrison, and neither would argue with that. I just never noticed the influence of Sinéad on Damien until today. They both have a ferocious, attacking approach to the guitar and to lyrics.
Another reason "Troy" is brilliant is that it references Irish poet W.B. Yeats's poem "No Second Troy" which is based on the ancient texts of Homer, one of the oldest poets known to mankind.
---
I stared at S's photo all day. I miss her. My body and my soul aches for her. She is so beautiful. She could start wars (like Helen of Troy). And myself, like the ancient fools of old, should be content that her eyes once stooped to gaze upon me for a brief moment. But there is little consolation in realizing one's own insignificance. I'd rather have her smile kiss me one more time, and after that I could exit life unbegrudgingly. If her lips were coated with poison and they kissed me into death I could die content. Instead, I am what I aaaaaaaaaam.
I miss my woman.
June 2, 2015
May 27, 2015
Some nights, when the dark is long and the silence is heavy, I softly and quietly run my fingers over the sheets. I pretend her warm and lovely skin is beneath my touch. I pretend that I can breathe her skin in and that all my senses can taste her. Her beauty like a blanket enfolds me for the briefest of moments and I don't feel so empty.
Imagine you were rowing across a black lake at night by yourself, so far out into the water that even the chirping of the crickets was a distant memory. Then a bright white light flashed on and steered your boat across the water to the shores of a brilliant castle. That's what her smile is like to me. A bright white light shining on everything, making everything in this life illuminated.
I wish she'd say hello.
Imagine you were rowing across a black lake at night by yourself, so far out into the water that even the chirping of the crickets was a distant memory. Then a bright white light flashed on and steered your boat across the water to the shores of a brilliant castle. That's what her smile is like to me. A bright white light shining on everything, making everything in this life illuminated.
I wish she'd say hello.
May 24, 2015
May 19, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Internet
There's a guy on YouTube called Sparky Sweets, PhD that summarizes the plots and themes of classic literature on his show called "Thug Notes". It's hilariously informative. J.D. Salinger would be proud.
"The Catcher In The Rye" – Thug Notes
"Holden be trippin' 'cause he got a legit desire to search for beauty in human contact, but just ain't findin' it in a world of such ugliness... in the end, this gangsta pays the price for being too soft in a world twisted by deceit."
"The Catcher In The Rye" – Thug Notes
"Holden be trippin' 'cause he got a legit desire to search for beauty in human contact, but just ain't findin' it in a world of such ugliness... in the end, this gangsta pays the price for being too soft in a world twisted by deceit."
May 15, 2015
Great Moments In 20th Century Film/Music
In 1984 director Jonathan Demme filmed a concert in Hollywood performed by Talking Heads. I have multiple stories that have lead to my love of Talking Heads, but basically when a white awkward nerd is the lead singer of a funk/soul band, I listen. The lead singer, David Byrne, has had a big influence on me. This is my favorite Talking Heads performance, and my favorite song of theirs, from the concert film Stop Making Sense:
"This Must Be The Place (Naïve Melody)" – Talking Heads
"Out of all those kinds of people
you've got a face with a view.
I'm just an animal looking for a home,
share the same space for a minute or two.
Love me till my heart stops.
Love me till I'm dead."
Those lines floor me, because I know what he's singing and I know what he means.
---
The opening line, "Home is where I want to be" is devastating.
I want to be home. But I know She'll never let me in.
"This Must Be The Place (Naïve Melody)" – Talking Heads
"Out of all those kinds of people
you've got a face with a view.
I'm just an animal looking for a home,
share the same space for a minute or two.
Love me till my heart stops.
Love me till I'm dead."
Those lines floor me, because I know what he's singing and I know what he means.
---
The opening line, "Home is where I want to be" is devastating.
I want to be home. But I know She'll never let me in.
May 11, 2015
May 10, 2015
May 9, 2015
May 6, 2015
Barcelona defeated Bayern Munich (one of the top five teams in the world) today in the first leg of a Champions League semi-final match. Bayern Munich's starting XI had five of Germany's World Cup winners in it, including Neuer and Schweinsteiger. Götze, the scorer of Germany's World Cup winning goal, came on late in the match as well. Messi crushed them all with two amazing goals and then a beautiful assist to Neymar. It took Barcelona seventy-seven minutes to break the deadlock but Messi and company picked them apart beautifully.
Barcelona vs. Bayern Munich goals
Barcelona vs. Bayern Munich goals
May 1, 2015
April 29, 2015
I saw the moon alone last night.
I was listening to "Invisible City" by The Wallflowers on repeat, sitting on a cliff overlooking the ocean. I watched the shining moon sit high and still as a thin veil of clouds mistily kissed its way through the lit air. The clouds were clinging to the light of the moon like reverent worshippers surrounding their beloved but not disturbing. And far down below it all was a black ocean, with a field of diamonds sparkling off the crests of the waves. The ocean looked like a flawless friend.
The light of the moon is a gorgeous thing. But, of course, that light belongs to the sun, not to the clouds that worship it or the ocean waves that consume it.
The moon is beautiful, but it doesn't belong to the cloudy man who sits and watches it shine with his heart full of love for every side of it, its light and its dark. The moon does not belong to anything, even though it wears the sun's dress and dances with the earth. The moon does not love the earth, but it helps the earth raise the ocean. The moon is alone and always leaving. The clouds chase it and cannot reach it.
I saw the moon alone last night.
I was listening to "Invisible City" by The Wallflowers on repeat, sitting on a cliff overlooking the ocean. I watched the shining moon sit high and still as a thin veil of clouds mistily kissed its way through the lit air. The clouds were clinging to the light of the moon like reverent worshippers surrounding their beloved but not disturbing. And far down below it all was a black ocean, with a field of diamonds sparkling off the crests of the waves. The ocean looked like a flawless friend.
The light of the moon is a gorgeous thing. But, of course, that light belongs to the sun, not to the clouds that worship it or the ocean waves that consume it.
The moon is beautiful, but it doesn't belong to the cloudy man who sits and watches it shine with his heart full of love for every side of it, its light and its dark. The moon does not belong to anything, even though it wears the sun's dress and dances with the earth. The moon does not love the earth, but it helps the earth raise the ocean. The moon is alone and always leaving. The clouds chase it and cannot reach it.
I saw the moon alone last night.
April 26, 2015
I started sobbing on a drive home. I was listening to "Cyprus Avenue" by Van Morrison. I was remembering her holding my hand while my eyes teared up as I listened to Van performing that song live at the Hollywood Bowl many years ago.
I wasn't just crying that long ago night in LA because I was hearing Van play that song live, I was also crying because I believed in love and because She was holding my hand and because She was with me and She was beautiful and all my heart was for her. Her hand in my hand is the most gracious thing I've ever felt.
I loved her and she was with me and I believed she loved me and I was crying tears of joy.
I wasn't just crying that long ago night in LA because I was hearing Van play that song live, I was also crying because I believed in love and because She was holding my hand and because She was with me and She was beautiful and all my heart was for her. Her hand in my hand is the most gracious thing I've ever felt.
I loved her and she was with me and I believed she loved me and I was crying tears of joy.
April 25, 2015
Great Moments In 21th Century Film/"Miluju tebe."
Once is an Irish film from 2007 starring Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová. Glen plays a struggling musician who falls in love with Markéta, a Czech immigrant who has a daughter and an absent husband that she does not connect with. There's a scene where Glen asks Markéta how to say, "Do you love him?" in Czech. She tells him, and then he asks her. Her response, which the film leaves untranslated, is "Miluju tebe." She doesn't tell him what it means, but it translates to: "It is you I love."
In a music shop in Dublin they play one of his songs together, a song called "Falling Slowly". It is their most intimate moment.
Music shop scene – Once
In a music shop in Dublin they play one of his songs together, a song called "Falling Slowly". It is their most intimate moment.
Music shop scene – Once
April 23, 2015
I saw her in a dream again. She said some things to me.
Right now all I can think about is making love to her. I want to be inside her, making her happy and feeling her mouth bite my thumb or kiss me as she climaxes. I want to feel the happiness that comes from pleasing her.
Because the final time that she looked at me, she looked at me as though I were one big human mistake.
That memory burns me.
Right now all I can think about is making love to her. I want to be inside her, making her happy and feeling her mouth bite my thumb or kiss me as she climaxes. I want to feel the happiness that comes from pleasing her.
Because the final time that she looked at me, she looked at me as though I were one big human mistake.
That memory burns me.
April 21, 2015
This brilliant goal by Iniesta and Neymar is a fresh example of why Andrés Iniesta is my favorite soccer player in the world:
Iniesta assists Neymar
Barcelona are now headed into the semi-finals of the Champions League. The Champions League is the most prestigious competition in soccer, apart from the World Cup.
Iniesta assists Neymar
Barcelona are now headed into the semi-finals of the Champions League. The Champions League is the most prestigious competition in soccer, apart from the World Cup.
April 20, 2015
I'm going to see Damien Rice on Friday. It's going to be bittersweet, but at this point in life what the fuck isn't?
I know I'm going to lose it when he plays "The Greatest Bastard", "Accidental Babies" and/or "9 Crimes".
I can't figure what I said so wrong that she won't talk to me but it doesn't matter.
Nothing matters.
"Leave me out with the waste."
I feel like I'm waste to her.
I know I'm going to lose it when he plays "The Greatest Bastard", "Accidental Babies" and/or "9 Crimes".
I can't figure what I said so wrong that she won't talk to me but it doesn't matter.
Nothing matters.
"Leave me out with the waste."
I feel like I'm waste to her.
April 17, 2015
April 15, 2015
April 14, 2015
Apparently Percy Sledge died in Louisiana today. He's best known for the song "When A Man Loves A Woman".
My personal favorite of his: "True Love Travels On A Gravel Road" – Percy Sledge
My personal favorite of his: "True Love Travels On A Gravel Road" – Percy Sledge
April 13, 2015
Today I miss most the feeling of her running her hand slowly through my hair, my hand in her hair and on her cheeks. I miss holding her face in my hands and looking into her eyes, seeing her smile.
I can't see any point to a life that doesn't allow me to see her face every day.
Also, I miss her breasts. I want to blindfold her and explore her with my mouth. Fuck, I want to work her body out so much.
I can't see any point to a life that doesn't allow me to see her face every day.
Also, I miss her breasts. I want to blindfold her and explore her with my mouth. Fuck, I want to work her body out so much.
April 11, 2015
April 10, 2015
I miss Kurt Vonnegut. He died eight years ago (4/11/07). He was born in 1922, the same year Ulysses was published.
April 6, 2015
Great Moments In 21st Century Television
One of my favorite Dave Chappelle moments: Calling people crazy – Dave Chappelle
April 4, 2015
S is the only person who ever made me feel like I wasn't a freak. She made me feel special.
I lost that feeling long ago.
I'll never forget the first day I met R. The way she and S made me feel that day is undoubtedly the best feeling I've ever had. Probably the best day of my life. That day and the first day S and I made love.
Now she doesn't talk to me.
I guess it all wasn't as good for her as it was for me.
---
I guess I said something wrong. Perhaps, in retrospect, I shouldn't have mentioned cunnilingus.
---
I need a blowjob.
I need to wrap her warmly in my arms once again. The way she fit in my arms was soothing electric blanket magic.
I lost that feeling long ago.
I'll never forget the first day I met R. The way she and S made me feel that day is undoubtedly the best feeling I've ever had. Probably the best day of my life. That day and the first day S and I made love.
Now she doesn't talk to me.
I guess it all wasn't as good for her as it was for me.
---
I guess I said something wrong. Perhaps, in retrospect, I shouldn't have mentioned cunnilingus.
---
I need a blowjob.
I need to wrap her warmly in my arms once again. The way she fit in my arms was soothing electric blanket magic.
March 30, 2015
March 20, 2015
I thought she wanted to be friends again. I was elated.
Turns out I was just the imaginary child Stewart Lee is talking to in this clip:
"Don't ever dream" – Stewart Lee
Turns out I was just the imaginary child Stewart Lee is talking to in this clip:
"Don't ever dream" – Stewart Lee
March 19, 2015
March 12, 2015
First she said she'd call. She didn't. Then she said she'd write. She didn't.
It's her loss.
Well, it's my loss too. I lost everything. I lost my heart.
Maybe it's just my loss.
---
New Orleans or San Francisco? That is the question.
"I Lost Everything" – Sam Cooke
It's her loss.
Well, it's my loss too. I lost everything. I lost my heart.
Maybe it's just my loss.
---
New Orleans or San Francisco? That is the question.
"I Lost Everything" – Sam Cooke
March 8, 2015
I took Yolanda and Alondra to lunch at Waterfront, one of the oldest bars in San Diego. One of the bartenders went up to the jukebox next to where we were sitting and started selecting some songs. "Cleaning Windows" by Van Morrison came on. I asked if he had picked it and he said yes. Turns out he is a big Van Morrison fan.
Bartender: I saw him in concert a long time ago, it was amazing.
Me: Oh that's awesome. Here in San Diego?
Bartender: No, in Nashville. I used to live there.
Me: You saw Van Morrison in Nashville?
Bartender: Yeah.
Me: Was it at the Ryman?
Bartender: Yeah.
Me: In 2006?
Bartender: Yeah.
Me: I was at that show.
Turns out we were both at the same Van Morrison concert in Nashville, TN back in 2006.
---
When I walked back to my car I passed the tent of a homeless person. The tent was there when I first parked, but it had been zipped shut. When I went back to my car the tent entrance was open and there were two people inside lying down. There was a woman with her head resting on a man's belly. The woman was wearing nothing except a green tank top. She had no pants or underwear on and she was rubbing herself. They were both smiling and laughing and talking, without a care in the world. The woman smiled at me and I smiled and tipped my head to her. They seemed like a nice couple.
Bartender: I saw him in concert a long time ago, it was amazing.
Me: Oh that's awesome. Here in San Diego?
Bartender: No, in Nashville. I used to live there.
Me: You saw Van Morrison in Nashville?
Bartender: Yeah.
Me: Was it at the Ryman?
Bartender: Yeah.
Me: In 2006?
Bartender: Yeah.
Me: I was at that show.
Turns out we were both at the same Van Morrison concert in Nashville, TN back in 2006.
---
When I walked back to my car I passed the tent of a homeless person. The tent was there when I first parked, but it had been zipped shut. When I went back to my car the tent entrance was open and there were two people inside lying down. There was a woman with her head resting on a man's belly. The woman was wearing nothing except a green tank top. She had no pants or underwear on and she was rubbing herself. They were both smiling and laughing and talking, without a care in the world. The woman smiled at me and I smiled and tipped my head to her. They seemed like a nice couple.
March 2, 2015
February 20, 2015
yes, i know how loveless life can be
"Happy birthday" is a ridiculous phrase.
You should give people condolences on their birthday.
---
I see Love as a distant shore
and I an adrift castaway
see less and less, evermore
---
One of my favorite love songs: "And I Love You So" – Don McLean
You should give people condolences on their birthday.
---
I see Love as a distant shore
and I an adrift castaway
see less and less, evermore
---
One of my favorite love songs: "And I Love You So" – Don McLean
February 14, 2015
Because your kiss is what I miss when I turn out the light
Screw valentine's day.
I miss her kiss and I wonder what it's doing right now.
God, those lips.
"Kiss On My List" – Hall & Oates
Sigh.
I miss her kiss and I wonder what it's doing right now.
God, those lips.
"Kiss On My List" – Hall & Oates
Sigh.
February 13, 2015
February 10, 2015
February 6, 2015
When I'm dying (and while I'm alive), and the book of my regrets is being frantically written in my head, I'm sure my biggest regrets will be no more complicated than these:
I never got to kick a soccer ball around with R. The two of us playfully kicking a ball over crackling autumn leaves in a park would be magic.
I never got to take heR on a bike ride. I never got to see her grow. I never got to sing with heR in the car or the living room or be silly goofy dancing with heR giving her mother all kinds of smiles.
I never got to be there for S. I never got to share her life with her. I never got to be the man whose arms she crawled into at the end of a long day. I didn't get to be her home.
I never get to feel her hands through my hair again as she talks to me. Her brain and her voice used to make me feel warm and sweet, like a perfect lovely summer afternoon complemented by a cool breeze... like placing your feet (ugh, don't get me started on her gorgeous feet) in a flowing fresh river on a hot day.
I never get to feel her lips upon my wrist. She used to kiss my heartbeat and it made me feel like a melted clock in a Dalí painting. I never got the chance to make S happy. I never got the chance to be her man. Never got the chance to prove that I would never do her wrong.
Basically, I regret (and will forever regret) every moment since they have diSappeaRed from my life, because every moment since has been utterly useless to me.
---
Bill Withers is the man.
He's best known for composing the classic songs "Ain't No Sunshine", "Just The Two Of Us" and "Lean On Me", but he has an extensive and beautiful catalogue that is too often ignored. I remember the first time I saw Amos Lee in concert. It was at The Mill in Iowa City, and pre-show he was playing Bill's Live At Carnegie Hall album over the sound system. After the show, when I met Amos, I asked him about his musical influences in general and then about Bill in particular, because you never know if the sound system music is the performing artist's choice or just the sound guy's. In that case, it was Amos's.
Anyway. This song, from Bill's last album circa 1985, has been my absolute jam today, accompanying my regretful dreams:
"Something That Turns You On" – Bill Withers
I never got to kick a soccer ball around with R. The two of us playfully kicking a ball over crackling autumn leaves in a park would be magic.
I never got to take heR on a bike ride. I never got to see her grow. I never got to sing with heR in the car or the living room or be silly goofy dancing with heR giving her mother all kinds of smiles.
I never got to be there for S. I never got to share her life with her. I never got to be the man whose arms she crawled into at the end of a long day. I didn't get to be her home.
I never get to feel her hands through my hair again as she talks to me. Her brain and her voice used to make me feel warm and sweet, like a perfect lovely summer afternoon complemented by a cool breeze... like placing your feet (ugh, don't get me started on her gorgeous feet) in a flowing fresh river on a hot day.
I never get to feel her lips upon my wrist. She used to kiss my heartbeat and it made me feel like a melted clock in a Dalí painting. I never got the chance to make S happy. I never got the chance to be her man. Never got the chance to prove that I would never do her wrong.
Basically, I regret (and will forever regret) every moment since they have diSappeaRed from my life, because every moment since has been utterly useless to me.
---
Bill Withers is the man.
He's best known for composing the classic songs "Ain't No Sunshine", "Just The Two Of Us" and "Lean On Me", but he has an extensive and beautiful catalogue that is too often ignored. I remember the first time I saw Amos Lee in concert. It was at The Mill in Iowa City, and pre-show he was playing Bill's Live At Carnegie Hall album over the sound system. After the show, when I met Amos, I asked him about his musical influences in general and then about Bill in particular, because you never know if the sound system music is the performing artist's choice or just the sound guy's. In that case, it was Amos's.
Anyway. This song, from Bill's last album circa 1985, has been my absolute jam today, accompanying my regretful dreams:
"Something That Turns You On" – Bill Withers
February 2, 2015
The Salk Institute is a medical research facility that was designed by architect Louis Kahn and named after Jonas Salk, the doctor who discovered the vaccine for polio in 1957. It is built overlooking the ocean. After my interview today, I walked along the sidewalk to the cliffs that hang over the sea and I stared out at the water for a while.
When I went back to my car I turned my ipod on shuffle. Out of the 12,726 songs currently on my ipod, "That's Entrainment" by Van Morrison came on.
---
I wish she'd talk to me.
A job at the Salk Institute would be pretty amazing. And even more amazing would be seeing her smile again.
When I went back to my car I turned my ipod on shuffle. Out of the 12,726 songs currently on my ipod, "That's Entrainment" by Van Morrison came on.
---
I wish she'd talk to me.
A job at the Salk Institute would be pretty amazing. And even more amazing would be seeing her smile again.
January 31, 2015
January 28, 2015
January 25, 2015
your dreams all blue
I hate dreaming. My brain affords me no peace during the day and no respite at night. I dreamt about a moment of intimacy. I don't mean sex. I mean an intimate moment when you're lying next to your lover and you're inches apart staring into their eyes and in love with their face, speaking, laughing, happy, communing. I dreamt about a lot of other things too, but they're too detailed and wild and I don't care to relive them in words right now.
Yesterday I only had one good thought. I was watching something and then all the sudden I thought about a moment, I daydreamed a moment that never was but that my body aches to be. I felt myself coming home to her. I came through the door and she was on the couch. With her beautiful feet in socks, her legs curled up and her smile giving meaning to my day. I sat next to her on the couch and indulged in that intimate stare, admiring her eyes and her face. We smiled at each other for long lingering seconds and then I enthusiastically said, "I missed you." And she knew I meant it and it warmed her. And so we were both warm, together, and we felt the electric heat as our fingers intertwined. We sat on the couch embraced in the warm glow of our love as though it were an infinite fireplace.
---
"The one you chose was wrong.
He will only brush away and paint your dreams all blue.
I know it won't be long.
A bridal flower crushed 'neath his unloving shoe.
The sun refused to shine.
You hold the lies you sold yourself.
Still you clutch an ancient relic, a holy fragment of the truth.
There's a burning need for the wealth
of a settled life to calm the spirit of unsettled youth.
The sun refused to shine.
Yes, the sun refused to shine."
---
I need a joke.
Yesterday I only had one good thought. I was watching something and then all the sudden I thought about a moment, I daydreamed a moment that never was but that my body aches to be. I felt myself coming home to her. I came through the door and she was on the couch. With her beautiful feet in socks, her legs curled up and her smile giving meaning to my day. I sat next to her on the couch and indulged in that intimate stare, admiring her eyes and her face. We smiled at each other for long lingering seconds and then I enthusiastically said, "I missed you." And she knew I meant it and it warmed her. And so we were both warm, together, and we felt the electric heat as our fingers intertwined. We sat on the couch embraced in the warm glow of our love as though it were an infinite fireplace.
---
"The one you chose was wrong.
He will only brush away and paint your dreams all blue.
I know it won't be long.
A bridal flower crushed 'neath his unloving shoe.
The sun refused to shine.
You hold the lies you sold yourself.
Still you clutch an ancient relic, a holy fragment of the truth.
There's a burning need for the wealth
of a settled life to calm the spirit of unsettled youth.
The sun refused to shine.
Yes, the sun refused to shine."
---
I need a joke.
January 17, 2015
Great Moments In 19th Century Literature
A powerful passage from Russian author Leo Tolstoy's final novel, Resurrection, which I've been reading for some time:
"One of the most widespread superstitions is that every man has his own special definite qualities: that he is kind, cruel, wise, stupid, energetic, apathetic, and so on. Men are not like that. We may say of a man that he is more often kind than cruel, more often wise than stupid, more often energetic than apathetic, or the reverse; but it would not be true to say of one man that he is kind and wise, of another that he is bad and stupid. And yet we always classify mankind in this way. And this is false. Men are like rivers: the water is the same in one and all; but every river is narrow here, more rapid there, here slower, there broader, now clear, now dull, now cold, now warm. It is the same with men. Every man bears in himself the germs of every human quality; but sometimes one quality manifests itself, sometimes another, and the man often becomes unlike himself, while still remaining the same man."
Most of the time I feel like a narrow, slow, dull cold river. I have memories of flowing rapid, broad, clear and warm, but they are only memories, quietly being buried under the settling dust of the riverbed.
"One of the most widespread superstitions is that every man has his own special definite qualities: that he is kind, cruel, wise, stupid, energetic, apathetic, and so on. Men are not like that. We may say of a man that he is more often kind than cruel, more often wise than stupid, more often energetic than apathetic, or the reverse; but it would not be true to say of one man that he is kind and wise, of another that he is bad and stupid. And yet we always classify mankind in this way. And this is false. Men are like rivers: the water is the same in one and all; but every river is narrow here, more rapid there, here slower, there broader, now clear, now dull, now cold, now warm. It is the same with men. Every man bears in himself the germs of every human quality; but sometimes one quality manifests itself, sometimes another, and the man often becomes unlike himself, while still remaining the same man."
Most of the time I feel like a narrow, slow, dull cold river. I have memories of flowing rapid, broad, clear and warm, but they are only memories, quietly being buried under the settling dust of the riverbed.
January 12, 2015
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