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."
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