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

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.

a new haiku

If I had a chance
at your body again, I
would live for your cum.

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

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

Ever since last Halloween, any time I see Jennifer Lawrence my eyes start to water.

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I helped my roommate out. Her name is Sherry and she left me a note on the fridge that said, "Thank you <3 – S"

The "S" almost made me cry. "S" is like the saddest letter in the world to me.

Maybe I am a loser.

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.

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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.

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I sent my friends in New York a postcard today. Their house number is 109.

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I sincerely need a blow job.