We are the ants on New Year's Eve

New Years Eve is a cliche'
Nothing more than the passing of a second
An artificial rebirth upon which lofty expectations are placed

Watching the ball drop along with last years resolutions
The frantic search for a New Years embrace
Like ants scurrying to pick up the pieces of colony
Carelessly crushed in a pithy brawl
Grab what you can, because things will be different next year

Next Year
Counting down the 365 day clock
*tic toc*
to all zeros
The hang over from last year doesn't feel like a fresh start
But dammit if there isn't a feeble promise in the heart to change

It is as brief and meaningless as the golden sparkle in your drink
But I still love it
For who can say what the future holds?

Life once again is an uncorked bottle of champagne
So let us reveal our stemware and drink to uncertainty

You said so go

This was a previously unpublished draft. I'm still undecided whether it was worth resurrecting.

Why do I fall so easily
When this girl wears hip clothes
Or that girl likes great bands
Or she cut her hair just so

Just so I would get tangled in it

They're like good dreams and I wake up constantly
It's not even about placing them on pedestals
When I just want somebody to dream about me

Which sounds selfish
And is selfish
But asking no more than I already give

I want to look at her eyes and see that I was already in her mind
Or gaze at her lips and know my name was on her tongue
I want to know when I touch her hand my fingerprints were already there
But most of all, I want the certainty in knowing
If it never happens at least I had a chance

I'm not sad, just tired
Exhausted from being alone too long without a break

Hell hath no fury

The stone tables at In-n-out below the ten freeway are a fractured mess of polished brown corrugated granite
With my forearms sprawled across it's surface I could feel loose salt granules sticking to my skin
The air was thick and warm
That December was nothing like this one

We sat round the stone table as friends who'd spent some time apart
Like former lovers trying to find that old spark
For once, their eyes fixated on me as I embellished the story of my lost summer
I think it fooled all but her

Of course the one I wanted most to pick up where we'd left off was she who seemed to barely notice I'd come back
(I wonder if I ever really did)
Her neck struggled to turn a complete 180 as she seemed compelled to look anywhere than at my face
At this point all I wanted was a smile
Something to break the monotony of her distracted demeanor

But she wouldn't lend it to me
I'll never know why it happened that way
But we were always closer on paper
There was something safe about that ink and bleached pulp barrier

Even now the dirty tables outside of In-n-out are a terrible reminder
And no amount of damp rags or rainy nights could cleanse them

Because I still feel the loose salt pitting my arms when I think of her ignoring me

A kiss on the hand at a holiday party (and the ensuing lamentations of brokenhearted freeway driving)

God we're all junkies
Aimless addicts to a thing we called love
The way it compels you to feel
Like absolute trash
That my worth would be lowered if you were to leave
That me before you is a person who died
Because he ceased to exist the moment we crossed paths

And so we lament the past
But ignore the time gone by
Forcing meaning on meaningless times
She wasn't that great
No human could possibly be as flawless as this fictional sprite conjured by misfiring synapses in the folds of our mind

But we need it and we repeat to ourselves ad infinitum
"I don't know" "I don't know"
like its a mantra for relationship recovery

We were all knocked out cold by a swift sucker punch
But we praise the assailant?

Where is the logic in that?
To hell with it all.
We were better off never having known the pleasure of a four letter word that starts with L
and ends in morose monologue

Passing on the Throroughbred Lights

We could be so close to gain warmth
In this frigid winter night
And my mind is intoxicated
With the thought of being intertwined
So I lose control

And distance myself from heat
from your trembling body
And I wish to God that this night were over

Sometimes you win and sometimes you choose not to

Before Finals

I don't usually post like this but this is my favorite scene from one of my favorite movies. This is the last scene in Before Sunset. Without context it might not seem important but it means pretty much everything to this movie and the preceding one Before Sunrise.
Plus this song is great.

Pulling the plug on Christmas tree lights

Christmas bulbs kiss the darkness
with a glow like pursed lips
A subtle tug on the heart
Being willed out of complacency

Good memories are sometimes more painful than bad
And I miss it all so much

Just like Old Times

Innocence is a thing best forgotten
A line crossed uncrossable
The screwy warmth of limerence
The joyful ignorance of unwarranted sanguinity

Love used to be a healthy feeling
A catalyst for action
The be all to end all

But too many nights sitting up in the dark
Too many days waiting by the window
Wear thin on thin hopes
And turn pilots into poets

The only real pain is not in unrequited love
but unfulfilled potential

What might have been said
But wasn't
What should have been left alone
And was dwelt on

It's just like old times
Cloudy winter eves
To bounce thoughts off paper
Like headlights reflecting in the puddles

The beautiful blurry version of reality
an impressionist painting of the ordinary

There are times at night when looking up at the sky
No longer inspires much more than a cold
Though the evening feels spectacular
Immediate and vast
Don't be fooled into believing the moment
For the stars are only the memories of lost luminescence
Falling in love with the emptiness of space

It is no more divine than lemmings scurrying off a cliff
And forcing love is the same way
Like blindly committing suicide,
The romance is lost somewhere between soaring dive
And bloody impact.

Rough Draft of The Next Chapter: The Drive Home Was A Supernova

I met Adelle at a party George took me to on my winter break. I didn't know anybody there and imagined I would spend the night in a corner slowly drinking whatever concoction they were handing out.

But I reluctantly agreed to go. I was stir crazy at home.

George always went to parties. He was always invited. The ladies flocked to him. He knew how to stand out in a crowd. I could blend in.

George was confident near the point of cocky, but most girls ate it up. I both admired and abhorred that side of him.

I couldn't talk to girls. We spoke different dialects of the same language and they had no patience for my vernacular. Still, I naively thought that someday a girl would want to try and she would be the one worth really knowing. George would say that beggars can't be choosers.

The party was in a sizable house in the foothill suburbs. It was typical of the area; three car garage, perfectly manicured lawn and a white stucco finish. If the coldesac was a mouth these homes were all molars.

Inside was a similar story; wood floor entryway, white rounded walls. Subtly furnished and garnered with random nostalgia free items. If felt like a model home. A magazine version of the nuclear family dream. I had a hard time believing the pictures on the table didn't come with the frames.

When we arrived the party was mostly outside. The smokers were relegated to the outdoors, even on an extremely cold January night. We approached the smoggy huddle like Indians to a wagon train.

I scanned for the nearest wall to plant my back and disappear. I questioned why I would put myself through this.

In my mind the the group criticized our every move. I could taste the tension. I felt like the obvious tourist at Disneyland. The guy who photographs his family up at every ride to commemorate each joyous occasion. The guy with a Goofy meets The Gap denim baseball jacket.

"George, you made it!"

A girl rushed toward George with a Corona in one hand and cigarette in the other delicately placing her occupied appendages around his body.

George smiled and exchanged greetings with her. Then he introduced us.

"Hi, I'm Evan."

She shook my hand with like an overenthusiastic used car salesman.

"Hi, I'm Odd!"

She laughed at herself like it was the funniest thing in the world. And it wasn't pathetic. It was cute. Not because of the corny joke but because she treated me like we were already friends.

She was electric; like the glowing ember of her cigarette. She took a long drag and grinned at me.

"I used to smoke a lot more, it's a filthy habit."

She reached in her bag and offered one to me. I waved my hand, slightly embarrassed.

"I didn't think you'd take one, I could tell you were one of the good ones."

I never wanted to smoke more than in that moment. It reminded me of one of my favorite songs.

"And I could taste your lipstick on the filter..."

She buttoned up her bag and turned back to me, pointing a sarcastic finger.

"You know you'll outlive us all though."

"I hope not," I said. "Whats the point if all the best people are dead anyway?"

She was lighting another cigarette, delicately teasing the edge with her lighter.

"Yeah, you'd miss me too much."

She laughed and put her free hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, you probably think I'm the weirdest person in the world right now, you're like 'I only just met this crazy chick', right?"

You're right, I can't believe I only just met you.

"You got me, I'm totally inching away as we speak."

We both cracked up at that one and I thought of the song again.

"Your advantage left me helplessly into you..."

Everybody at the party was Adelle's friend. A random blend of different lives, captivated by one person. Meeting her was like waking up from a coma.

On the ride home, George asked me what I thought of the party.

I thought Adelle was great.

"I had fun, it was better than doing nothing all night."

He agreed vigorously.

"What did you think of Adelle, she's cool right?"

Yes.

"Was she the one you had a thumb war with?"

I acted like I didn't recognize the name. Like her's wasn't the only one on my mind.

He chuckled to himself like drunk people do.

"Yeah, shes super friendly man," he said twisting his arm out the window tracing the blurry traffic. "You should talk to her sometime, I'll give you her screen name."

I smiled a bit, betraying the nervous hope coursing my veins.

In the black of early morning, I thought only of Adelle. Every car that passed me, whispered her name. The city lights flickered like her eyes when she took a shot.

But as so often happened on nights like this my thoughts shifted bleaker than midnight shadows. The empty freeway was a tunnel without exits. I feared my right foot would jam the gas pedal sending my car careening into the center divider. A beautiful fireball of burning gasoline and charred cloth.

And as I let the flames engulf me, my heart would be a supernova. An all consuming flash of splitting atoms and quarks approaching critical mass.

I feared expectation. I feared George's offer. Adelle loved everyone. But she just couldn't like me. I wasn't fun like her. I wasn't cool like her. I was just me. An astronomical mess of doubts and expectations mixing inside me like domestic beer and cheap vodka. The thought made me dizzy and I nearly threw up.

This is so stupid. I don't even know her. This is hopeless. I wish I never met her.

I was in love.