going through some old shit. maybe you've seen it before.

she's a girl, who made me ashamed of my torn pants, a girl i crank called. when she
reached her hand to me i just turned her down.

she's a girl, who was moving faster than i wanted to. once i got her, i didnt know what to
do with her. she lasted shorter than i meant her to.

she's a girl, who played violin, and could never make up her mind. she never let me kiss
her, someone else did instead. i used to write for her.

she's a girl, who was a man's initials. she held my arm and walked me down the hall. i
remember her face like an eternally setting sun.

she's a girl, who was lost and tried to find her way back with her body. i lied to her
about mine. we never kissed. but she more than kissed my friend.

she's a girl, who was a friend, to another girl. she stole my 1st kiss. along with my
1st touch, and cried when i left.

she's a girl, with buckles on her shoes, who sat with me on tower 6, and waited till i was
ready. i stole her 1st time. she held me up when i needed her most... and then never
returned.

she's a girl, who was a hoodrat. she said i was fine, and gave me her picture.
i was so shy, i couldnt let her in.

she's a girl, who i laughed at, and played with her hair. she made my friends
jealous... and sent me cookies while I was in bootcamp. we laid on her carpet, and painted everything blue. when i went away... so did she.

she's a girl who saw me at a poetry reading, and caught me in the hall. she kissed me in
that same hall, and loved me from far. she was a terrible friend. but always wrote to me
when i needed her most.

she's a girl who wore glasses, and had straight dark black hair. she wanted her
boyfriend to be more like me. but she didnt want me.

she's a girl, who was my friends girl. she came with me to vegas, we slept in he same bed.
i was her addiction. when the habit was over, all i had was my guitar.

she's a girl who gave herself away to everyone but me. we traded books and memories. i
played her my guitar. she kissed me when i was drunk.

she's a girl who liked the beatles, and played the piano. i asked her to be mine...
but i wasnt hers. mixing anger and longing, we shared a cigarette, and a subconscious
goodbye.

she's a girl, who was my sisters friend. i saw her when i came down the stairs, and
time settled there.  when the truth became evident, neither heart was spared.

she's a girl i met in a different state. she let me sleep in her bed. Makers bar was
our hideout, till i got in that car.

she's a girl who i met twice, both times in different states. she kissed my face in a
bar.. a year later we met again. strangers asked if we were married. i took a cab
home from her hotel, and we never spoke again.

she's a girl who came slowly, but the wind took her away. i was dressed as a bunny, she
was dressed as a myth. i had no way to see her, and she fluttered away.

she's a girl who i met online, under the guise of intelligence. she was drunk when it
happened, then she shit on my dreams. she let me go with a letter... left on my pillow
like a mint.

she's a girl who i ruined, with my rough heavy hands. we were living in secrets. she
took me to my dreams, and i turned away to be alone.

she's a girl who i saw through. when i told her she laughed, on the inside she cried.
we were happy one season, when the time changed we died.

she's a girl who i noticed, from across the room. we had almost been meeting, but the time
wasnt right. i asked her to save me. maybe i was asking the truth. pumpkins on that warm
blanket, i was still cold inside.






 

something old and faded

rain on your windows
thoughts leading dreams
cobalt and fading
eyes glittering

crimson creators
seductively curve
static attraction
recharge and burn

resting on pale silk
shocks of rose red
all things seductive
blind in the end

sunset caresses
playing like streams
undamaged landscapes
senses release

cobalt and fading
eyes beckoning
rain on souls windows
thoughts leading dreams

last year

i am drunk.


last year, around this time... i was getting almost arrested because i was so drunk and apparently walking out in public at 3 or 4 AM that the cops picked me up and almost arrested me. i was upset because something that i knew would happen, happened.

this year. around this time, i find it hard to be any different, besides the fact that i am not in the back of a cop car.

this is not an accomplishment. the reward will come when i have completed the entire process and have secured a job. there is nothing to celebrate yet.

i have zero accomplishments.

none.

so this is my final push to make something of myself.

i was a turd when i was in high school and i'm a turd now. the only difference is i know how to recognize that now.

i live with my mother, i am responsible for nothing, i can do nothing.

I
AM
NOTHING.

I'm getting tired of starting again... somewhere new. again.

      I guess what I want to say is that sometimes you lose friends and there's something that can be done about it, and sometimes you lose friends and there's nothing you can do about it.

nothing within reason at least.
 in the movies there's always some bullshit great length that can be traversed in order to right the wrong. but in real life, things just don't work that way. I've lived my life like a novel that Hemingway threw in the garbage, I just picked it out and read it with rose colored glasses.

 
the funny thing is that I kept reading the same part over and over again, but only sometimes did I get any feeling out of it.


you know, we went out to the bar and I paid for everything because at that time in history I was ahead. and we drank like we would never see each other again...

and in a way, we didn't.

E.B.

     ...and for one desperate moment. 
i felt like saying something to make you stay.
but that's all i would be doing. 
 making you stay.

if left to my own thoughts, i will always let people do what they want. 
in this case it's clear.

you know, sometimes, you bring someone a flower...
...and by the time they see it, it has died.
by the time they notice.

it has died.

Record Store Day, and i've got no car.

So here is my rare copy of The Virgin Suicides soundtrack on vinyl.

roadtrips not taken

Watching motorcycle diaries makes me think of all the things me and my best friend never did.

We never went on that post-high school road trip to nowhere. We never even graduated high school together.

 

I got kicked out of school around February of senior year and ended up finishing at another school and graduating before everyone else. (with a 3.5 GPA)

 

...but that meant that i didn't get to share in graduations festivities with all my friends. I did attend, but I was watching from the stands and as of now i remember more about my sister’s graduation than I do of my classmate’s graduation. If it weren’t for the pictures I have I’m sure that would be gone from my mind as well.

I left for boot camp immediately after graduation.

I didn’t get a final summer.

That means that I didn’t get to go screw around with all my friends before we decided what colleges we were going to go to, or if we were even going to go.

By the time my friends were starting their first year of college, I was across the world learning different things.

 

I learned that long distance relationships don’t last when you’re 18.

I learned that only when you’re helpless do those things you worry about not having control over actually happen.

I learned to depend on myself and no one else. (I still do this)

I learned that I was smart enough to get by, but not smart enough to avoid life.

I learned that when you push your hand through a wooden locker one time with success, maybe you shouldn’t try again.

I learned to live on my own, even though I always had room mates.

 

I spent two years away. I spent two years away because I had broken up with my high school sweetheart, and I didn’t feel the need to come home any time soon anymore. So I decided to extend my overseas service for another year.

That decision led me to my final meeting with my cousin in life.

 

I learned to appreciate the time we have with people and that sometimes a cab ride and giving away of “things” can be a substitute for “goodbye”.

 

I learned that if you believe in yourself, others will too. (I flew home to California with a set of fake orders that someone had printed up for me at the administration office and a little bit of guilt trip applied to the airport personnel.)I wasn’t supposed to land in California for another few weeks, but I was done with Okinawa and no one could stop me. Not even my healing broken hand.

 

I joined the military when I was 17 and lost all of my friends.

 

We still exist in this world where proximity is not an excuse to see each other and every few years someone dies or gets married and we all get together again to explain why we haven’t called. Sometimes I’ll catch a movie like “The Motorcycle Diaries” and I’ll get all sentimental and write something like this.

I had a friend one time that was as scared as I was. And when we were together we were the adolescent angst that all those punk songs we loved only screamed about. Now he lives right down the road and I haven’t seen him in forever. Sometimes I find him, but he never wants to stay in the light anymore. So I’m left holding a torch with nothing to burn for.

 

 

 

 

Sam and I right before senior prom.