Monthly Archives: May 2010

Alone We Stand, Together We Fall Apart

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Words cannot express my happiness and gratitude in you finally understanding and appreciating love. It is more than a feeling, more than words. It is unlike sadness or happiness which is fickle. It is not a part time job. How you love is who you are. And I have utter gratitude in your being able to comprehend how much I loved you, and how willing I was to douse the world in gasoline so the gold zippo in your hand can fall to the ground. You were the only one I allowed into my lofty heart, and I even left the seat down for you and did the dishes. It was my pleasure.

But now that you’ve grown into a person who loves with passions incomparable except from my own, you are alone. For I’ve given up that ‘love.’ Ive spent what seemed like decades in order to show you, however, it wasn’t until I had no choice but to give up, that you learned. Perhaps you became my successor, perhaps its a cosmically funny joke and He is slapping his knee, sides; splitting. I stuck by your side through every possible maliciousness that could happen to two people, then I stuck by you while you cast your own malicious necromancy upon me, the one you ‘love.’ You’ve scarred and burned me alive while tending to my wounds at the same time. I didn’t know what to make of it all except I didn’t know more, everyday, whether what I felt for you was love, or the greatest personal practical joke ever elaborately planned.

No I’m not happy to be alone, I’m terrified, but being alone feels tenfolds much better than feeling like I’m below an eating disorder or an aesthetically ravenous photographer who wanted his telephoto lens wet, or dirt, etc. I gave up my entire world for and to you. You gave me a piece of orange flavored chewing gum. …But do I miss you? Do I still love you? Yes, no lies here; nothing to gain. This’s my dreamlike blessing that became a nightmarish curse. I still love you blindly despite how you’ve taken a vegan shit all over everything I believed in. You fucked me up, as if I wasn’t before. You, look at me, look at what you’ve created.

Do you want me back? Do you even feel remorse? I was just a kid who loved life in the world with you. You were the sunshine I needed for those gloomy days I hated so much. I didn’t even have to see you. I was always there when you needed me, why couldn’t you return the favor. I even ate your unpleasant casserole without asking you to to like my banana split. Now I’ve become an existential ghost that haunts and awaits further agony, blahblahblah. A cliche. The ghost you don’t text message anymore, the ghost who doesn’t listen or remember everything you say anymore. The martyr for your love, whatever that may be, whatever it looks like in whatever clothes or music it was birthed from. Lets hope karma is a myth.

I’ll tell ya; love isn’t a walk in the park, you’re going to have to work on it, put in that extra sweat. Like the effort in finishing an entire meal. It doesn’t matter one goddamn bit what you feel in your heart, its your actions that express it.

Ive finally been able to honestly laugh and enjoy myself the last few weeks. Because I stopped worrying about who’s company you kept and what cities you claimed to have kept them. The truth is, you were a horrible girlfriend. You couldn’t tell the truth, perhaps because we were far apart, but then again, I know you inside and out to know you probably couldn’t tell the truth to the people right next to you in bed. If there’s a change in you as claimed, you better believe I’m skeptical about it. There’s trees for me to shake out here, and some nights, fruits falls from them for me too.
You just couldn’t appreciate you’re own living room and kitchen, so you went outside. Did you remember to bring your key?

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The Wild Turkey

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“Please call me or Hugh when you get home.” She says as we say goodnight to the evening we spent singing poorly tuned songs and swing dancing among vomiteers. “I don’t need a chaser.” She says after she shows me how much more durable her liver was than mine, unaware of how much I know livers I’m general. Her insides splashed over our friend’s backseat as she snipes at imaginary poachers on the highway back to our unmentionable little town, she stays awake to make sure everyone got home safe as I made sure she, herself, was able to get home safe.

Her kindness rivaled even the blinding white light of God when you face death, a light I’ve started yearning for since the great flood of the leaves. I didn’t know what to make of the situation except that we didn’t need each other in our lives, and that in itself, made me feel even more needed than necessary.

She asked me to stop being so kind as I hid the flowers in a can within her purse, and I realized at that moment that it was the first time I was acknowledged for my kindness that I did not deliberately try to convey. It was natural, and I’d have done it regardless of her insides being sprayed in the strange strangers car. I briefly became a human being that worried about someone other than myself, as opposed to being a creature that worried about nothing. I felt needed, even just for my jokes.

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This House Is Not a Motel

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Water. That’s what my body is asking for as I lie motionless on this moss-ridden floor. The accumulation of sand and flora kicking everything into the air as I see bits of pollen shimmer in the sunlight through the cracks in the ceiling of eucalyptus leaves. My heartbeat; slowed, my muscles; relaxed, my rifle barrel and scope gathering a thin layer of dust above it. I never could stand the waiting aspect of the hunt, I just wanted to shoot. I couldn’t very well just go to the shooting range the next town over, because I wanted to kill. The elusive 40-point buck was in these woods, and I wanted to be the one to catch it. No one has ever seen it, but I’m not going anywhere.

I think its the fact that no one has ever seen it or even gotten close to it that lulled me into this endeavor. But if I wait long enough and become like the rest of the forest, it’ll appear, at least, that’s what the folktales say. Sure enough, it wandered out of an ordinary shrub, right into my crosshairs. Bang. I dragged the carcass back to my cabin and was excited to share the news with all the people who never believed me. One at a time they came over and marvelled at the catch, and just as quickly as they ‘oo-ed’ and ‘awe-d,’ the beast’s corpse vanished.

In a matter of weeks, it came back to life and wandered the woods again. Only this time, hunter after hunter succeeded in killing and capturing it. But everytime, it left and wandered again, and hunter after hunter kept preying after it. Now the buck wasn’t so special anymore. Sure I wanted what I couldn’t have, but now that everyone could have it so easily, well, I’m glad I didn’t quit my day job and have to return to the office on Monday back in the city. That buck reminded me so much of, well, me. Alone, one of a kind, and ready to disappear back into some unidentifiable consciousness. But at least I had that moment with the now omnipresent 40-point buck, where I was one with the woods, one in its world. Somehow, I don’t think I was ever really the hunter just because I had the gun. And somehow, I don’t think it ever existed until I imagined it with all my heart into this world. Now, its got its own flyers and advertisements, and even a breakfast burrito named after it.

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Quietly, I Dropped My Weight Into Your Sea, I Dropped My Anchor

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I’m not going anywhere. The world we live in is the world we know best. We’d be philosophers if happiness didn’t creep in from time to time. Everything we do always end up becoming sand in the hourglass, the guttering candle, a rotting fruit, bubbles, any symbol for the brevity of life. You and I never seem to appreciate the ordinary until some calamity strikes. We never choose what we’d like to do, only what we do.

William Edward Hartpole Lecky said, “There are times in the lives of most of us, when we would’ve given all the world to be as we were but yesterday, though that yesterday had passed over us, unappreciated and unenjoyed.” Now why jump into the grave with a book about someone else before yours is written?

We are all scarred and burdened by the past, and this influences or persuades our character. Whether it is becoming a strong paternal figure because of a despondent predeccessor or becoming an adulterous wench because of a family friend who promised us the moon and stars, while invading our moons and stars in secret at a young age, we make our own decisions with the smarts we’ve collected. Its what we do that defines us, never what we want to do.

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She Crawled Out of the Sea, Straight Out of My Arms

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Emotional Contagion is a phenomenon in which the surrounding recipients assimilate to the alpha mood being emitted within the proximity, usually through to contagiousness. This applies to good emotions or bad, and since I was in a stage of negativity and depression, I could only expect to recieve that same kind of company. (Regardless of whether or not my feelings were factually accurate.) I didn’t even like me, so why would I expect anyone else?

Flannery O’Connor wrote in one of her letters; “from 15 to 18 is an age at which one is very sensitive to the sins of others, as I know from recollections myself. At that age you don’t look for what is hidden. It is a sign of maturity not to be scandalized and to try to find explanations in charity.” This basically means, “give them a break, you younguns are so quick to judge, its childish. You don’t think twice about why people do things the way they do or think the way they think. You’re obviously not giving a second thought because you don’t have the graciousness to be empathetic or too preoccupied with thinking towards your own welfare.

Statistically, Americans are the worst mates one can choose, due to our arrogance. Past traditions get trampled underfoot, and ironically, this is the American way. “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind,” said Ghandi, but did America have to become a living, breathing example of that?

“Where there is no wood, the fire goes out; and where there is no talebearer, strife ceases.” Proverbs 26:20

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Bigger and Stronger and Less Alive

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Sometimes things are just black and white. If there ever was a gray area, I was in it. Ive sucked it in, took one for the team, and attempting to be “positive,” and turning my cheek left and right to absorb these slaps. Even the blind man with knife in hand, can convince himself that he understands.

I’ll pretend to be naive cause it makes you feel good to feel clever. But you ain’t. I’d much rather say nothing now in order to see how much you really love God. This has nothing to do with me after all, I’m gray. I’m a crutch for when you feel lost and lonely. This time, I’ll be the one peeking my head out on the side of the road on the motorcycle. I think you’re ready to drive. Don’t forget, you need to clutch before you can shift.

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The Tallest Man on Earth

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Epicurus said, “we must exercise ourselves in the things that bring us happiness, since, if that be present, we have everything, and, if that be absent, all our actions are directed toward attaining it.”

When I was in grade school and highschool, I was a chubby child. Inevitably, that would assimilate itself into my world of insecurities. It wasn’t until college that I lost all my weight. I still retained the title of class clown but also gained the title of being in the top 10% of my classes. I went through every single major possible in order to add to my lascivious identity. I was smart, unique, funny, and easier on the eyes, (moreso than before) but I was still pretty miserable. Of course, there’s no disguise for despair like humor. See, I only lost the weight because I was flat broke and had to support myself, and I had only taken so many majors because I couldn’t decide what I wanted to be. As chappy as my life seemed, they were direct results of having to choose in malicious circumstances. Isaiah Berlin once said, “we are doomed to make choices and every choice may entail an irreparable loss.”

Through out the years I’ve spent in accumulation of knowledge and life experiences, I’ve concluded with firsthand evidence, this generation to reflect the sin of vanity. I would not have made the friends of made if I was still that chubby happy-go-lucky boy. I would not have made the connections I’ve made if I wasn’t vain, myself. Just because I was better looking, made me more popular with everyone. you can see it especially if you were a member myspace or Facebook, the attractive had more friends, and were favored for anything. I know I’m not the best looking guy in the world, but ive kept myself up to date with trends and ideologies while retaining my ugly duckling syndrome. Because I am aware of both worlds, I feel I have insight from both sides which, in turn, would render my opinions; hypocrytical. This is where I’m glad I could never stick to one thing, all the elements that make me, me, were not shared by others. My indecisivness allowed me to color my world with inimitable shades, and my face allowed me to be on everyone’s guestlist or at the least a plus one. This parable allowed me to act with such an aplomb that only accentuated my candor in cynicism and conformity, simultaneously. And I walked aimlessly into this preconceived, pretentious and Sisyphean world, because Nietzsche said, “all truly great thoughts are conceived while walking.”

The negative repercussions of this idea, however, never gave me time to stop and smell the roses. I dated despondent women, played in less than average bands, acted in movies that might have benefitted with a simian co-writer, went out to hipster nightclubs every other night, and attended music festivals featuring bands that everyone thought was good. I mean, really? Reeeaally?

It took me many years of trial and error before I learned an important piece of advice; what may be enjoyable for everyone else might not be be enjoyable for me. I had thought to myself that if had done the same things my peers were doing, I’d fit in as well. But I never realized that I fit everywhere, and nowhere, all at once. My actions reflected past traditions and new ones to come, regardless of my support for either.

Then I met her. It wasn’t so much that she was a person to be with, it was more of a discovery of a kindred spirit. In a way, we met while we were both young, with pretentious ideals, and we were from completely different background. But we had the same mind and soul. Empathize with my surprise when we discovered each other. I became happy for the first time, because I felt like I’d grown, then discovered someone to grow with. William Butler Yeats said that “happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure, nor this thing no that, but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing.” Then we started drifting. We found that we could only grow so much together before we realized we couldn’t grow any further without upgrading to a bigger flower pot. We snipped and bickered over tiny deails with each other naturally as we fought for space because our roots had taken over the soil. We departed, in order to grow on our own because we’d done as much for each other as two lovers could indulge on either side of a populous continent. I’ve skipped Dr. Elizabeth Kubler Ross’s five stages of grief during the departure and actually fused the stages of denial, anger, and depression, only because those stages were second nature to me. Then I mated bargaining with acceptance because I truly believed this was just going to be another minor domestic feud. But the thing about long distance relationships is the fact that you absolutely can not convey beyond words the seriousness in nullifying the conflict that would normally be accentuated with body language and deep wells of irises that reflect honest amoral emotions and affection; where most proximity-blessed couples would not even require words. We dilligently relied on language, vocal, and textmessage-ual COMMUNICATION. But talking all the time did not necessarily mean we were communicating. What kind of bra she bought at Victoria Secrets did not deduce anything, nor did the amount of Pabst Blue Ribbon I had gulped with the boys the night before. Our deficiencies in physical contact eventually led to our demise. We never put an emphasis on sex, and that allowed us to communicate efficiently, but perhaps sex was more important than we had anticipated. Maybe not sex, but being able to actually see each other at will would’ve helped. Immensely. We loved like no one loved and together, we could do anything we wanted, but we weren’t able to do everything we wanted.
But nevertheless, I had briefed the pleasure and joy of knowing the feeling that the most extraordinary person in the universe had chosen me. Then experienced the single most wrenching pain in knowing she’s no longer with me. “Show me a contented man, and I’ll show you a failure.” -Andrew Carnegie.

I am sad because I am not complete anymore. A part of me has been removed by the butcher knife of God’s will. These aren’t tears, but crystalline blood. Every day without you is another day of mourning your absence, and that makes the days longer, and the year shorter. I will stay behind at the bus stop where our last names were the same as you get on that bus that takes you to the answers you’ve sought. I will look at Wallace Stevens, Julian Barnes, Rashomon, and even Monet’s 40 routes, and catch the next bus.

Happiness, is nothing if you are incomplete on the inside. Appreciate their virtues and remember that it doesn’t matter how much love you have in your heart, the only thing that can be seen are your actions.

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