Gyrating like a beached porpoise in front of me was a plump Latina and her somewhat Asian looking friend who was also thick but much more pleasantly curved. The two arrived at the bar an hour or so after we did and had been sharing our shadowy corner for the better part of the night; smoking, drinking beer and clearly hoping to catch the attention of similarly minded men. It was at once a confident yet pathetic move and I could see the foggy sadness which permeated their being like the gothic cigarette smoke hanging about them. They were my fellow humans, searching blindly for a time when they would not be dancing to cheesy auto tune pop songs because they wanted to connect with somebody new.
Friday night at Mudskippers. A well known watering hole throughout the region and it was here that I met with my friends for the first time in months. We walked across the street from a grocery store parking lot and into the front door nearly unharrassed, but alas the bartender rounded the counter asking for our ID's. He took the cards, bending them and flashing them under a black light before at last handing the drivers license back to us with a discerning look, perhaps trying to detect any signs that we were underaged boys with excellent fake identification. He took mine last but only bent it once and waved it under the light quickly. I took great satisfaction in his speedy determination that I was of age, thinking that perhaps i possessed more manly qualities than my friends who were a few months older than I. If I felt too proud of a trivial advantage it was because on this day I too had a fog of sadness, though I'm not sure anybody I knew could detect it.
We ordered our drinks and found a booth in the corner of the main room. It was dark and secluded, which was fine with my friends because they were here to drink and forget and flirty socializing was not part of that agenda.
Mike and John were their names, friends since high school, one time roommates, now educated working men with seemingly distant memories of good times.
"Remember that time we rode our bikes to the..."
I've heard this story a million times and so had they, but we all happily reminisced, remembering the younger versions of the three of us and all the random fun they had.
"I'm so exhausted today," said John. "I looked at the clock at 5 and basically spaced out for the last hour of the day."
It was such adult conversation. Looking around the room, there was a strange mish mash of old and young and stylish and clueless and happy and sad people with little homogeneity between them. It was the same at this table. I felt a world apart from Mike and John. They were graduated, working hard, engaged to be married and worried about the cliche bad economy. I was none of those things.
They drank their pitcher of beer and I sipped on a 5 dollar vodka and tonic. The lime was old and contained very little juice and so it tasted less like alcoholic sprite and more like a carbonated shot. We arrived rather early in relation to the Friday night bar scene which did not arrive until nearly 10. That's when the girls showed up and sat at a bench on the perpendicular wall to our booth.
There were a lot of women that night. Some were very beautiful girls and the rest were the lonely, exhibitionist types, pushing their breasts sky high like a billboard on the side of the freeway advertising milk. I glanced around the room periodically while our conversation ebbed and flowed organically like the tide. There was one girl in particular that I spotted who had a lovely face. I foolishly wanted to make eye contact with her, perhaps as a result of my loneliness or the amount of alcohol flowing through my brain. But mostly she never looked toward my side of the room, so I stared down at my drink.
The clear liquid caressing the ice and melting it down into different shapes. It was almost alive as I watched it adjust and slide under the forces of temperature. It was like a sculpture forming from invisible hands.
My mind wandered as it was too loud to hear my friends without really concentrating and I didn't feel up to it anyways. See, there was this girl I met. There always was. I was the same at age 12 as I was at 22 in Mudskippers.
Her name was Geraldine and honest to God it didn't start out that way. The first time we met, I had no definitive reaction to her being besides the fact that I found her face alluring and her music tastes impeccable. But I was not head over heels for her, no not at first sight. Not even the second or third sight. It was almost liberating at first, how much I resisted her unique charm and thought nothing of her indifference towards me. Talking to her was different. Unlike other girls, it didn't feel like an awkward interview where I did circus tricks to get her attention long enough to remember my name. It could relax around her.
But things changed. I started to like her and what was better as a friendship became clouded with mixed emotions. Here I was, surrounded by pretty single women. In fact, I think they were more objectively attractive than Geraldine. Yet, if she invited me to come over right now I would ditch those sirens in a heartbeat like the boring mannequins they were.
"So Evan, have you gone on any dates lately?" asked Mike.
"I mean I guess so, I don't know, I'm not sure anybody would classify a night out with me a date."
They laughed and popped peanuts into their mouths. I did the same though with the pleasure of knowing that I avoided their question successfully.
The bar continued to fill with lonely people and cigarette smoke. Broken down, that's all a night out really is; Nicotine and pheromones.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
What sounded like thunder
Midday crackling. The unmistakable explosion of thunder fills the air as little girls who should not be outside right now scream. Dogs bark, planes scramble to the airport and a paparazzi flash fills my vision so quickly I wasn't sure it even happened.
Judgment day was upon the Mountain View community, may God's wrath be swift and merciful.
Friday afternoon, graduation plus 5. Afternoon thunderstorms are an occasional part of life in a California summer. Despite the restless air, not a drop has leaked from the gray mass blocking the mountains from view.
Earlier I wrote down some words that were not mine, from an interview I didn't do. It's grunt work but still the most proactive thing I have done so far with my new life.
My life as an "educated" pre-professional.
I dispatched my resume to the local newspaper a few day's ago. A shot in the dark at my parents suggestion. I don't expect much to come of it. A speaker at my commencement ceremony joked that my graduating class had impeccable timing to be entering the job market at the least opportune moment in 50 years. A real riot of a sentiment. All the same, it was true. Truer for me perhaps because I was hoping to partake in an industry which will never bounce back.
A newspaper man. That was never my intention; my only plan was to write because I thought it something I could do. Journalism was just the familiar face of my fractured aspirations.
I really hope I can make something of this.
The wind is picking up and the trees are dancing. It feels tropical. The storm has moved on and only the occasional beat can be heard above the din of passing traffic.
These are the echoes of sentiment from a college graduate 5 days into "reality". A clap of thunder reverberating off a mountainside.
Judgment day was upon the Mountain View community, may God's wrath be swift and merciful.
Friday afternoon, graduation plus 5. Afternoon thunderstorms are an occasional part of life in a California summer. Despite the restless air, not a drop has leaked from the gray mass blocking the mountains from view.
Earlier I wrote down some words that were not mine, from an interview I didn't do. It's grunt work but still the most proactive thing I have done so far with my new life.
My life as an "educated" pre-professional.
I dispatched my resume to the local newspaper a few day's ago. A shot in the dark at my parents suggestion. I don't expect much to come of it. A speaker at my commencement ceremony joked that my graduating class had impeccable timing to be entering the job market at the least opportune moment in 50 years. A real riot of a sentiment. All the same, it was true. Truer for me perhaps because I was hoping to partake in an industry which will never bounce back.
A newspaper man. That was never my intention; my only plan was to write because I thought it something I could do. Journalism was just the familiar face of my fractured aspirations.
I really hope I can make something of this.
The wind is picking up and the trees are dancing. It feels tropical. The storm has moved on and only the occasional beat can be heard above the din of passing traffic.
These are the echoes of sentiment from a college graduate 5 days into "reality". A clap of thunder reverberating off a mountainside.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
A "Man"
As the amber liquid
poured into my gullet
I winced;
Harder every second to drink than the last
I forced myself to grin and bear it
The tingling pins that pricked my face
upon completion of a few bottles
was now more akin to a headache
than a fuzz
Still I choked down more
Grasping at the fleeting happy buzz
Of bubbles behind clear glass
now suds
they cleansed my throat and mind
But I felt no better
A lager could never satisfy me
lacking even the basic satiating
ability of water or harder alcohols
It was just something men do
Men binge on brews
and cuss and intimidate
Men arrive late holding the hand of a girl they just met
Men joke about intimacy with their peers in secretive boldness
With girlfriends just out of earshot
Their cheeks red with laughter and too much liquor
Their women with embarrassment
Beer always disgusted me
I imagine it always will
"No, you'll grow to like it"
I don't ever want to
Trying to live on other people's terms
Leaves a bitter taste
I'd just as soon purge it from my mouth
Than deal with a hangover
from betraying a truer identity
Friday, May 22, 2009
There but for the Grace...
An Irish man at a British pub
in North Upland
A sloppy sad Thursday night
with nothing to do
Not a soul in the bar save for me
two friends and a vodka tonic
drink of choice
quick buzz
Though it always makes me want a cigarette
The lights begin to die
and its past last call
only 12:01 and its already last call
I want to drop everything and leave
When I don't feel at home at home
A motivation for better things?
The old Irish man, long since faded
told a short joke about a turtle and two snails
punchline about speed
clever and not funny
A pitiful lonely man
The man I don't want to be
Piss drunk and single in North Upland on a Thursday night
This isn't a bar, he said
It's a Goddamn British Pub
He meant every word of it
Channeling his deep convictions
through a matter of drunken semantics
Like an artist
His masterpiece a stupor
in North Upland
A sloppy sad Thursday night
with nothing to do
Not a soul in the bar save for me
two friends and a vodka tonic
drink of choice
quick buzz
Though it always makes me want a cigarette
The lights begin to die
and its past last call
only 12:01 and its already last call
I want to drop everything and leave
When I don't feel at home at home
A motivation for better things?
The old Irish man, long since faded
told a short joke about a turtle and two snails
punchline about speed
clever and not funny
A pitiful lonely man
The man I don't want to be
Piss drunk and single in North Upland on a Thursday night
This isn't a bar, he said
It's a Goddamn British Pub
He meant every word of it
Channeling his deep convictions
through a matter of drunken semantics
Like an artist
His masterpiece a stupor
Monday, May 11, 2009
The future as an insecurity
Stare into the expanse
Feel the insignificance of not knowing
Wish for greatness
Receive humility
All stars do their best to burn brightest
Yet some are but faint pinpoints
In the night sky
Take the hits as they come
Often and early
The darkness of space is a cruel audience
Seeking to devour
In it's insatiable black hole
There is no sense in guessing the fate
For the future is a Nebula
A picturesque monument without form
or substance
A gaseous cloud of hope and doubt
become insecurity
We sit out on warm summer nights
With low powered telescopes
Dreaming of things beyond our reach
Take care to remember how limited our
view of the infinite is
I have to remind myself of this
when my perspective worries me
Feel the insignificance of not knowing
Wish for greatness
Receive humility
All stars do their best to burn brightest
Yet some are but faint pinpoints
In the night sky
Take the hits as they come
Often and early
The darkness of space is a cruel audience
Seeking to devour
In it's insatiable black hole
There is no sense in guessing the fate
For the future is a Nebula
A picturesque monument without form
or substance
A gaseous cloud of hope and doubt
become insecurity
We sit out on warm summer nights
With low powered telescopes
Dreaming of things beyond our reach
Take care to remember how limited our
view of the infinite is
I have to remind myself of this
when my perspective worries me
Monday, May 04, 2009
Love in the time of Swine Flu
We were sitting on a couch
and talking in a circle like we
always used to
Me near you but not so near
You know how it can be
And I made a joke
"Neither could he"
I barely got the punchline out through my own laughter
And you with me
our sides splitting
my guts spilling
You smiled at me
While we both recovered
This was one of the saddest moments I can remember
because though you laughed for me
The rest of you was his
I drove home alone, like I so often do
watching the headlights
from the other side of the freeway partition
Knowing it was not possible to cross the barrier
Red lights ahead, always the red lights
and talking in a circle like we
always used to
Me near you but not so near
You know how it can be
And I made a joke
"Neither could he"
I barely got the punchline out through my own laughter
And you with me
our sides splitting
my guts spilling
You smiled at me
While we both recovered
This was one of the saddest moments I can remember
because though you laughed for me
The rest of you was his
I drove home alone, like I so often do
watching the headlights
from the other side of the freeway partition
Knowing it was not possible to cross the barrier
Red lights ahead, always the red lights
Monday, April 27, 2009
Wedding Bells Part 1
The Anaheim hills were especially dry as we drove through a suburban neighborhood off the 55 freeway. Winding through one housing development after another, trying to find this park nestled somewhere between the grocery stores and Circle K's.
"We're gonna be late," said my mom in an accusing tone I'd come to know as love. "I told you we should have left before the the golf match ended."
My dad ignored her as he frantically searched for Linden Park. It was so hot outside I couldn't even lean my head against the rear window without getting burned. A little readout on the dashboard said it was a stifling 97 degrees. A great day to go swimming at a pool or the beach, not so great a day for an afternoon outdoor wedding.
My collar choked me as I struggled to feel comfortable in drab dress pants and a button up shirt. My brother sat opposite me, equally uncomfortable, equally annoyed. I hoped we'd never find the park. At least in the car there was air conditioning and my mp3 player. Outside my window was the anticipation of a purely miserable hour and a half.
I imagined what awaited me. The intense heat beating down on my tie noosed neck, all the hot air building up. My brow and arms so sweaty it was like sitting in a self contained sauna. Long drawn out vows, outdated rituals, and hundreds of people I don't know and probably wouldn't care too. And to top it off I'm supposed to be happy that I'm watching a grown man cry as he walks his daughter down the aisle to a guy who in just a few short hours will be having sex with said daughter. How messed up is that. Even the Japanese didn't surrender until until they got nuked twice and i'm pretty sure we didnt sink the ship they surrendered on.
"John, there it is! Hurry up and find parking it looks like they've started the ceremony," she barked as my father skidded into a stall like Jason Statham in every movie he's ever done.
"Grab the present Evan, quit dragging your feet" my father commanded. If I was dragging my feet it was only because they were were melted into the asphalt.
The ceremony began ten minutes after we arrived, much to the chagrin of my now haggard looking parents and everyone else who were fanning themselves with the program. On stage at the front stood a nervously smiling guy about my age. Actually younger than me by a year. We went to school and church together for a long time. His mom and my mom were friends, and that is how we ended up at the wedding of a person I haven't seen in 7 years.
I always disliked the waiting portion of the wedding and how it was so built up for the bride. The groom had to stand in front of everyone grinning like an idiot until the bride finally got her act together and the music played and a parade like procession accompanied her. I mean, standing up for the bride? Should we lay down palm branches too? I wonder what would happen if I touched hem of her garment.
His name was Jeremy. His eyes darted back and forth from the pastor to his parents. He beamed with happiness.
The music started. The wedding party walked the aisle in the first official joining of their two lives. His friends hand in hand with her friends. She walked out behind them with her father, who was not crying but smiling himself. We stood and though the bride was stunning in her gown I mostly watched Jeremy's face. He was glowing with a strange mixture of what looked like pride and relief. His eyes welled up a bit and I got the feeling that the heat of this early summer like day was lost on him.
After they were pronounced man and wife the party moved indoors where we were thankfully in the comfort of air conditioning and live music. Now I was happy. Plus there were always attractive girls at weddings. Who knew what was going to happen once I loosened that tie.
"We're gonna be late," said my mom in an accusing tone I'd come to know as love. "I told you we should have left before the the golf match ended."
My dad ignored her as he frantically searched for Linden Park. It was so hot outside I couldn't even lean my head against the rear window without getting burned. A little readout on the dashboard said it was a stifling 97 degrees. A great day to go swimming at a pool or the beach, not so great a day for an afternoon outdoor wedding.
My collar choked me as I struggled to feel comfortable in drab dress pants and a button up shirt. My brother sat opposite me, equally uncomfortable, equally annoyed. I hoped we'd never find the park. At least in the car there was air conditioning and my mp3 player. Outside my window was the anticipation of a purely miserable hour and a half.
I imagined what awaited me. The intense heat beating down on my tie noosed neck, all the hot air building up. My brow and arms so sweaty it was like sitting in a self contained sauna. Long drawn out vows, outdated rituals, and hundreds of people I don't know and probably wouldn't care too. And to top it off I'm supposed to be happy that I'm watching a grown man cry as he walks his daughter down the aisle to a guy who in just a few short hours will be having sex with said daughter. How messed up is that. Even the Japanese didn't surrender until until they got nuked twice and i'm pretty sure we didnt sink the ship they surrendered on.
"John, there it is! Hurry up and find parking it looks like they've started the ceremony," she barked as my father skidded into a stall like Jason Statham in every movie he's ever done.
"Grab the present Evan, quit dragging your feet" my father commanded. If I was dragging my feet it was only because they were were melted into the asphalt.
The ceremony began ten minutes after we arrived, much to the chagrin of my now haggard looking parents and everyone else who were fanning themselves with the program. On stage at the front stood a nervously smiling guy about my age. Actually younger than me by a year. We went to school and church together for a long time. His mom and my mom were friends, and that is how we ended up at the wedding of a person I haven't seen in 7 years.
I always disliked the waiting portion of the wedding and how it was so built up for the bride. The groom had to stand in front of everyone grinning like an idiot until the bride finally got her act together and the music played and a parade like procession accompanied her. I mean, standing up for the bride? Should we lay down palm branches too? I wonder what would happen if I touched hem of her garment.
His name was Jeremy. His eyes darted back and forth from the pastor to his parents. He beamed with happiness.
The music started. The wedding party walked the aisle in the first official joining of their two lives. His friends hand in hand with her friends. She walked out behind them with her father, who was not crying but smiling himself. We stood and though the bride was stunning in her gown I mostly watched Jeremy's face. He was glowing with a strange mixture of what looked like pride and relief. His eyes welled up a bit and I got the feeling that the heat of this early summer like day was lost on him.
After they were pronounced man and wife the party moved indoors where we were thankfully in the comfort of air conditioning and live music. Now I was happy. Plus there were always attractive girls at weddings. Who knew what was going to happen once I loosened that tie.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Bored Games
Scattergories.
Roll the dice
Watch that baby bounce
W.
What a crappy letter
Why W
Where is the timer
Two minutes
timer set to go
and go
Tropical cities
Waikiki of course
but everyone will put that
but I cant think of anything else
Skip for later
Boys names
Walter, no
Walrus, the guy who looks like a walrus
Wilford Brimley
How old is that guy anyways?
Yikes! the timer is still running
Superheroes,
W, W, W, W,
Why can't I think of one?
Look at everyone else
they're all writing
peeking at the person next to me does no good
She is so close though
Her arm feels really soft
incredibly so
I like it
I don't like her like that
just the touch
Her arm over my arm
It's so different
At least I can enjoy it for a moment
A moment
How much tim...
"Times Up!"
Wonder Woman
How did I not think of that before?
It would have been a double score
I only have a couple usable answers
and a lingering suspicion that I'm a bit lonely tonight
Roll the dice again
Who can say what letter we land on next?
Monday, April 20, 2009
Second hand smoking
"There is no love
only hate"
the talking head on stage repeated
for what value I don't know
Maybe he felt it was a revelation
one humanity had yet to realize
But in that moment
I knew
I never once
had an outlook so bleak as that
The glittery curtains of this hipster ballroom
wrap the crowd in spacey glow
And in the smokey room I sat
alone
peering through the nicotine haze
Giant saucers above my head
collect all the sounds in the room
like I was listening in on a hundred
phone conversations
all at once
So I sat and watched
because what else would I do in that situation
When you are alone in a room full of people who aren't
It feels more empty
than my Saturday night
Like despite all this life around me
I could not be part of it
but merely an observer
I told myself this is possibly what the future holds for me
A seat to one side
of a vanilla colored couch
inhaling smoke and conversation
from other peoples lungs
Which sounds dire
But never once would I believe there is no love in this world
How could I
When it was obvious as the cigarette cloud around me
I could breathe deep and choke on other peoples romance
Second hand love
Everybody tells me it's a killer
But what good is second hand knowledge anyhow
I'd just as soon smoke myself to cancer
than listen to those terminal cases
only hate"
the talking head on stage repeated
for what value I don't know
Maybe he felt it was a revelation
one humanity had yet to realize
But in that moment
I knew
I never once
had an outlook so bleak as that
The glittery curtains of this hipster ballroom
wrap the crowd in spacey glow
And in the smokey room I sat
alone
peering through the nicotine haze
Giant saucers above my head
collect all the sounds in the room
like I was listening in on a hundred
phone conversations
all at once
So I sat and watched
because what else would I do in that situation
When you are alone in a room full of people who aren't
It feels more empty
than my Saturday night
Like despite all this life around me
I could not be part of it
but merely an observer
I told myself this is possibly what the future holds for me
A seat to one side
of a vanilla colored couch
inhaling smoke and conversation
from other peoples lungs
Which sounds dire
But never once would I believe there is no love in this world
How could I
When it was obvious as the cigarette cloud around me
I could breathe deep and choke on other peoples romance
Second hand love
Everybody tells me it's a killer
But what good is second hand knowledge anyhow
I'd just as soon smoke myself to cancer
than listen to those terminal cases
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Letting it be ( short story)
I was reading Bukowski and part of of his poem would not leave my mind
I do not want to love you
I do not want to save you
I do not want your arms
I do not want your shoulders
I have me
you have you
Let that be.
***
"Evan I'm seeing someone, I just thought I'd let you know."
Adele's voice echoed in my head. This was it, you know. The ultimatum, the relationship, the end of torture really. It was always going to end this way. I was not myself anymore since I met her. I could not be and that was not something you could build a relationship on.
But that didn't lessen the blow. It still hurt. And not just emotionally, I felt it physically too. All throughout my body I felt soreness. My stomach dropped, I wasn't hungry. My being ached like it hadn't in a while.
"Ok Adele, that's great you sound happy..."
And it just came out, all the appropriate mature things I'm supposed to say. It felt like stabbing myself in the soft part of my temple. I was so low already, I didn't know where to go from there. There was no anger in my heart towards her, how could there be. I didn't even feel sore towards whoever she was now with. I wasn't even mad at myself. I was just there.
Numb all over like I wasn't breathing. Like I was drowning but accepting it. I had no desire, no drive, no sadness, no fear, nothing.
We hugged and I walked out the door, into the warmth of daylight but it was lost on me. I always thought I might cry if it ever came to this, but no tears came.
I was just alone.
Love was never a risk worth taking. Not when I knew it would always end like this. Or I should say, what I thought was love would always end like this. In my heart I knew that what attraction I had for Adele, no matter how insatiable it seemed, was not real love.
It was the absence of it. It was like starving. It was like a mouth watering off of the smell of a meal alone. I didn't know what I sought but I knew I wanted it badly.
I thought back to a conversation I had with Eleanor almost a year before.
"What does being in love mean to you?" I asked her half jokingly.
But she took it quite seriously.
"Depends which kind... if we're talking about the love for people, I believe it means to be willing to do anything for that person without selfish intentions and to show your love to them. As far as romantic love... Loving someone would be when you cant stop thinking about them and love them despite their mistakes because they're that worth it."
I looked at her and knew that somewhere in that definition she probably had me in mind.
"What about you?" she asked.
So I thought. I thought beyond all I knew about love and what I had experienced so far, because I recognized that it was not really love at all. Finally I answered her.
"Love is... watching someone die," I joked, quoting a Death Cab song.
"No come on, you can't just quote," she said a little annoyed but smiling. I stopped smiling and gave her my real answer.
"Romantic love, is knowing someone as completely as they'll let you and them knowing you as much as they are willing to learn and knowing that if nothing else you were completely yourself with one person in your lifetime. To me anyways."
That was the most honest I ever was to myself or anyone else about love.
So maybe love was worth taking risks for, I didn't know. But the hunger for it was all the same. Whether you had it or not, there was no hope, there was no reason to fight.
And so I continued to walk, walk, walk away. Back to my car, expressionless and silent.
I didn't listen to music cause I wanted no consoling. I felt nothing. Like nothing. And I wondered how long it would be before my mouth watered again. Sometimes it took years. Would I even care by that time? Tomorrow was my birthday and I did not care.
I do not want to love you
I do not want to save you
I do not want your arms
I do not want your shoulders
I have me
you have you
Let that be.
***
"Evan I'm seeing someone, I just thought I'd let you know."
Adele's voice echoed in my head. This was it, you know. The ultimatum, the relationship, the end of torture really. It was always going to end this way. I was not myself anymore since I met her. I could not be and that was not something you could build a relationship on.
But that didn't lessen the blow. It still hurt. And not just emotionally, I felt it physically too. All throughout my body I felt soreness. My stomach dropped, I wasn't hungry. My being ached like it hadn't in a while.
"Ok Adele, that's great you sound happy..."
And it just came out, all the appropriate mature things I'm supposed to say. It felt like stabbing myself in the soft part of my temple. I was so low already, I didn't know where to go from there. There was no anger in my heart towards her, how could there be. I didn't even feel sore towards whoever she was now with. I wasn't even mad at myself. I was just there.
Numb all over like I wasn't breathing. Like I was drowning but accepting it. I had no desire, no drive, no sadness, no fear, nothing.
We hugged and I walked out the door, into the warmth of daylight but it was lost on me. I always thought I might cry if it ever came to this, but no tears came.
I was just alone.
Love was never a risk worth taking. Not when I knew it would always end like this. Or I should say, what I thought was love would always end like this. In my heart I knew that what attraction I had for Adele, no matter how insatiable it seemed, was not real love.
It was the absence of it. It was like starving. It was like a mouth watering off of the smell of a meal alone. I didn't know what I sought but I knew I wanted it badly.
I thought back to a conversation I had with Eleanor almost a year before.
"What does being in love mean to you?" I asked her half jokingly.
But she took it quite seriously.
"Depends which kind... if we're talking about the love for people, I believe it means to be willing to do anything for that person without selfish intentions and to show your love to them. As far as romantic love... Loving someone would be when you cant stop thinking about them and love them despite their mistakes because they're that worth it."
I looked at her and knew that somewhere in that definition she probably had me in mind.
"What about you?" she asked.
So I thought. I thought beyond all I knew about love and what I had experienced so far, because I recognized that it was not really love at all. Finally I answered her.
"Love is... watching someone die," I joked, quoting a Death Cab song.
"No come on, you can't just quote," she said a little annoyed but smiling. I stopped smiling and gave her my real answer.
"Romantic love, is knowing someone as completely as they'll let you and them knowing you as much as they are willing to learn and knowing that if nothing else you were completely yourself with one person in your lifetime. To me anyways."
That was the most honest I ever was to myself or anyone else about love.
So maybe love was worth taking risks for, I didn't know. But the hunger for it was all the same. Whether you had it or not, there was no hope, there was no reason to fight.
And so I continued to walk, walk, walk away. Back to my car, expressionless and silent.
I didn't listen to music cause I wanted no consoling. I felt nothing. Like nothing. And I wondered how long it would be before my mouth watered again. Sometimes it took years. Would I even care by that time? Tomorrow was my birthday and I did not care.
Friday, April 03, 2009
April Showers
Cloudy skies you rolled in so suddenly
so subtly
The streets are filled with your tears
but you always move on
The wisdom of a cloud is her ability
to slowly roll away
Rain then shine
April showers and May flowers
I'd cry too
to see you go
But not move on
forgetting upon forgetting
I'm not sure we ever do
or want to
Clinging to the clouds as they slip through our fingers
like the vaporous mist she always was
leaving us with cold hands
desperately seeking something to hold on to
She rests for now
nestled happily against the mountains
And I ceased caring
and began pressing on
Indifference is only fair at this point
There is too little time to waste with our head in the clouds
We are nothing like a storm
because if I were weather
the plants and animals would have withered long ago
Not enough shine, not enough warmth
There would be no spring
Most things
are better left
out of my
control.
so subtly
The streets are filled with your tears
but you always move on
The wisdom of a cloud is her ability
to slowly roll away
Rain then shine
April showers and May flowers
I'd cry too
to see you go
But not move on
forgetting upon forgetting
I'm not sure we ever do
or want to
Clinging to the clouds as they slip through our fingers
like the vaporous mist she always was
leaving us with cold hands
desperately seeking something to hold on to
She rests for now
nestled happily against the mountains
And I ceased caring
and began pressing on
Indifference is only fair at this point
There is too little time to waste with our head in the clouds
We are nothing like a storm
because if I were weather
the plants and animals would have withered long ago
Not enough shine, not enough warmth
There would be no spring
Most things
are better left
out of my
control.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The girl in red danced barefoot, but I was barely there
At 11:30 pm I got dressed and went for a walk
Up and down the empty streets
and to a park
A park full of kids during the day
but this night just one
As I found a spot on the swing set
Up and down and Up and down
I could not think of anything else
The black sky, the wood chips
I went and lost myself in the motion
Here at night, at no mans hour
I swung to my hearts content
Because during the day
It just wasn't right for a person my age
to do so
Higher and higher, but the eventual sad ending to every swing
is a final rest at the lowest point
Some take a leap for a moment of flight
I dug my heels and gave up
Back to earth, I continued on
Still not ready to come home
Further up into darkness and a quiet neighborhood
down a road with no streetlamps
(It's so much better without the orange glow)
I wished every night felt so natural
Then like a beacon on a hill
a house with life
With cars all around
and lights on inside
Now midnight, I studied a mite closer
I saw happy people gathered around a kitchen counter
drinking and talking and being humanity
and in the living room
they spun together, dancing
A lively waltz at 12:23
A beautiful spectacle if I ever saw one
Men and women twirled round each other
like tiny, two-horse carousels
And I peered in from the cool dark street
Gathered myself
and finally walked home
With a finger nail's worth of moonlight
to guide my way
Up and down the empty streets
and to a park
A park full of kids during the day
but this night just one
As I found a spot on the swing set
Up and down and Up and down
I could not think of anything else
The black sky, the wood chips
I went and lost myself in the motion
Here at night, at no mans hour
I swung to my hearts content
Because during the day
It just wasn't right for a person my age
to do so
Higher and higher, but the eventual sad ending to every swing
is a final rest at the lowest point
Some take a leap for a moment of flight
I dug my heels and gave up
Back to earth, I continued on
Still not ready to come home
Further up into darkness and a quiet neighborhood
down a road with no streetlamps
(It's so much better without the orange glow)
I wished every night felt so natural
Then like a beacon on a hill
a house with life
With cars all around
and lights on inside
Now midnight, I studied a mite closer
I saw happy people gathered around a kitchen counter
drinking and talking and being humanity
and in the living room
they spun together, dancing
A lively waltz at 12:23
A beautiful spectacle if I ever saw one
Men and women twirled round each other
like tiny, two-horse carousels
And I peered in from the cool dark street
Gathered myself
and finally walked home
With a finger nail's worth of moonlight
to guide my way
Friday, March 27, 2009
Spring Days In Exile (Part 2) kinda long
The next day I met George in fast food Chinese restaurant, still a bit nauseous from the night before. I ordered first and was already digging into my greasy Kung Pao Chicken when he sat across from me.
"I think that girl at the register likes you Evan," he said while he grabbed a cup to get water.
"Oh, you mean the sweaty one with the noticeable mustache?" I joked.
George laughed the whole way to the soda machine.
The restaurant was mostly empty despite being so near lunchtime and the few people there looked so sad. Sometimes I wonder if we do anything without spite anymore.
"So what's up man, where were you last night? We were playing poker. I won thirty bucks, it paid for this delicious meal here."
Ah poker night. A tradition we started in High School where we could put our limited money on the table, poke fun at each other, and smoke cigars. We stopped smoking cigars years ago, but we still played poker.
"Oh yeah I forgot but you'll like this," I said. "I went out to a bar with Adele and her friends last night."
"Whoa, hold the press, Evan Jimenez went out with a girl, a cute one no less," he said rather loud. The miserable people around us looked for a second before burying their pathetic faces back into orange chicken.
“I didn’t say we went out, like it wasn’t a date or anything, but we were talking online and she invited me, it’s really no big deal.”
Already his face has twisted itself into an expression that told me what he was going to say long before it came out.
“What are you talking about. She likes you man, why can’t you see that. You should be thanking me that I ever introduced you.”
“I’ll make sure to mention that in the wedding toast.”
We both laughed and silently dug into the mound of food before us. A group of girl scouts walked in and I found it an odd place for them to be on a Saturday afternoon. They skipped back and forth in their adorable little outfits and shined toothless grins. I realized that I’d never seen a girl scout outside the context of selling cookies in front of grocery stores or door to door. I wonder what they use that money for? Do girl scouts camp? However, one look at the rather rotund den mother cleared up any questions about who decided to go out for Chinese food and possibly what the cookie funds were for.
“So how did your night out, for the sake of clarity we’ll call it a group date, go last night,” George finally blurted out. “I know something happened or you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“It was a lot of fun actually, well, yeah it was fun overall.”
He noticed the hesitation.
“But? I know there is a but.”
“No there’s no but, It was a lot of fun. We went to this bar called The Crush in downtown. It’s a really cool place, a lot better than those old man buffalo wings places our friends usually go to.
I drove to her house, knock on the door and her brother opens it and gives me a look that said he knows what I’m all about and without saying a word to me calls for his sister. Which kind of got me thinking that she has probably had a more than a few guys come to her house before.”
“Well yeah, not everyone is a hermit like you Evan, especially pretty girls. They have guys picking them up so much it’s probably like another form of public transportation.” George interrupted.
There is nothing like a close friend to put you in your place. They know who you are and your tendencies so well they could pick you apart with surgeon-like precision, it was like always being roasted. George knew too much about me, so it was hard to talk to him sometimes.
“Anyways she comes to the door and I sort of didn’t know what to do, cause like I don’t know her well enough to hug her and shaking hands is kind of too formal. But I ended up awkwardly shaking her hand after all. She didn’t seem to notice how strange it was so I wasn’t about to push the issue.”
“You should have hugged her. Girls will hug any guy. In fact, at least it would have looked bold on your part which is, coincidentally, another thing girls like,” he said with a mouthful of chow mein.
“I guess I should have had you come with me then, ass. You know I don’t know what I’m doing and then you go and point out all the things I’m doing wrong. I know I did it wrong, why do you think I never want to try?”
Silence.
I continued.
“So we hang out at her house for a few minutes and then her friends arrive to pick us up. Two girls and a guy. The guy was dating one of them and the other was Adele’s sorority sister from college or something, Chelsea or something.
We get to the bar and this place is packed. But it’s not so bad, we buy drinks and find a spot to stand and talk a little bit.
I’m talking with Adele making a few jokes, shes laughing which always makes me feel good and out of nowhere this tall white guy walks up behind her and pokes her in the sides with his fingers.
It turns out it was an old friend of hers and no sooner had he appeared than they went outside to have a smoke. So the rest of us order new drinks and I start talking with Chelsea because the other two were doing the closed off lovey dovey thing. Chelsea and I got along pretty well and we had a pretty good conversation. Mostly about school, she was studying history and that’s always been one of my favorite subjects.
It was really easy to talk to her because, well, I wasn’t attracted to her. You know that about me. I can only speak to girls who are neutral. I guess I don’t really care what I say to them as much so I open up better.
However, in the course of conversation I start to realize that she is really interested in what I’m saying. I mean really interested.
She was leaning in and smiling and nodding and laughing at all the really corny stuff I was saying and it dawned on me that this girl might actually be liking me.”
“So long story short you ended up going home with her.” George butted in.
We both laughed.
“Yeah totally man, it was a wild night. But seriously, long story short, Adele comes back with that dude and we find a booth and I end up sitting next to Chelsea instead of Adele for the rest of the night. The two of them go to the bathroom together and at the table start whispering stuff at each other and I realize that this whole evening might not have been just an invitation to hang out with Adele, but they were actually trying to set me and Chelsea up.
After that I stayed pretty much quiet, but it was too late. Chelsea kept talking, Adele kept smiling at us and I could do nothing about it. So yeah, it was fun, but I really don’t think Adele likes me. It sort of sucks to think I was getting somewhere only to end up at square one.”
George was done with his food now and he gave me a rather obviously annoyed look. I knew what was coming again.
“Alright dude, it wasn’t a date. But don’t you sit here and tell me that no girl likes you or whatever downer interpretation of last night you concocted because girls don’t invite random guys to hang out with them on Friday nights. Believe me, I’ve done the hang out with friends thing before and you know where that leads? Hanging out alone. And I don’t know what you do with girls alone, probably cry about how nobody likes you, but I know what I do.”
I didn’t say anything back. I didn’t believe him, I was there, I knew what I saw. I shouldn’t have replied to her message that night because I liked Adele too much to be pawned off to someone else.
I went back home I feeling little more nauseous than before.
That night I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a person I did not like. It was 2:24AM, and I could not sleep again. My arms were positioned like the limbs of a compass, propping up my ever increasing frame. The mirror was a map of the present, plotting a course in current time, but indicating to me what was to be a grim future.
I stared into my own face, bloated and unrecognizable. My cheeks were smooth and plump, pushing together the sides of the mouth and framing my chin. The only thing I recognized was the portion above the equator of my ears despite the ever decreasing hairline. My head was in two uneven hemispheres, the the north with a melting ice cap and the south engorged with magma.
What was perhaps a vain novelty to most was a true struggle for me. I hated the way people saw me. I was either the "Big Guy" or "Extra Large Tshirt" or "5 spot on basketball." I was always the biggest of the small or smallest of the big, neither being an enviable position.
On the outside I might have looked large but I never perceived myself that way. It wasn't until I crossed my reflection that I would realize my girth. In that way, the mirror betrayed me.
So did my friends. Telling me that I looked fine, that I wasn't fat, that the right person would love me for who I was.
I really hated that. Or when my plump brethren would flaunt their appearance and say that the world needed to conform its image to them rather than the polar opposite. Big was the new beautiful.
It didn't feel that way to me. I knew how girls saw me. How Adele probably saw me. Funny maybe, friendly sure, but not ever a consideration beyond that. I was for some other "lucky" girl, but never them.
There were times when I looked at my misshapen form and wished I could cut out the fat with a knife and be done with it. There were other times when I wished I was invisible all together.
It didn't depress me to look in the mirror, it defined me.
"I can't fucking stand it!" I yelled at myself.
Taking a handful of skin and flesh in in my grip I shuttered and cried out.
"All my life this held me back. Every time a girl passed me over, or a shirt didn't fit, or a doctor told me to lose weight, it got worse."
I slammed my fist down on the fake marble counter. I slammed it again.
"I can take it sometimes, but it just builds up and it kills me, it honestly goddamned kills me."
My hand was red and shaking from the two full force impacts. In a short while it would hurt a lot more. A trickle of blood started down from my left nostril, flowing to the framing crease in my cheek like a flash flood through a desert riverbed.
"Ok Evan, calm down." I said while holding the bridge of my nose with my right hand and blindly searching for a tissue with the other.
I knew it wasn't my body that hurt me so much. It was my mind holding me hostage, forcing me to feel in exile on nurturing spring days.
In my heart I still wished the best for me though. My mind had no control over that.
"I think that girl at the register likes you Evan," he said while he grabbed a cup to get water.
"Oh, you mean the sweaty one with the noticeable mustache?" I joked.
George laughed the whole way to the soda machine.
The restaurant was mostly empty despite being so near lunchtime and the few people there looked so sad. Sometimes I wonder if we do anything without spite anymore.
"So what's up man, where were you last night? We were playing poker. I won thirty bucks, it paid for this delicious meal here."
Ah poker night. A tradition we started in High School where we could put our limited money on the table, poke fun at each other, and smoke cigars. We stopped smoking cigars years ago, but we still played poker.
"Oh yeah I forgot but you'll like this," I said. "I went out to a bar with Adele and her friends last night."
"Whoa, hold the press, Evan Jimenez went out with a girl, a cute one no less," he said rather loud. The miserable people around us looked for a second before burying their pathetic faces back into orange chicken.
“I didn’t say we went out, like it wasn’t a date or anything, but we were talking online and she invited me, it’s really no big deal.”
Already his face has twisted itself into an expression that told me what he was going to say long before it came out.
“What are you talking about. She likes you man, why can’t you see that. You should be thanking me that I ever introduced you.”
“I’ll make sure to mention that in the wedding toast.”
We both laughed and silently dug into the mound of food before us. A group of girl scouts walked in and I found it an odd place for them to be on a Saturday afternoon. They skipped back and forth in their adorable little outfits and shined toothless grins. I realized that I’d never seen a girl scout outside the context of selling cookies in front of grocery stores or door to door. I wonder what they use that money for? Do girl scouts camp? However, one look at the rather rotund den mother cleared up any questions about who decided to go out for Chinese food and possibly what the cookie funds were for.
“So how did your night out, for the sake of clarity we’ll call it a group date, go last night,” George finally blurted out. “I know something happened or you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“It was a lot of fun actually, well, yeah it was fun overall.”
He noticed the hesitation.
“But? I know there is a but.”
“No there’s no but, It was a lot of fun. We went to this bar called The Crush in downtown. It’s a really cool place, a lot better than those old man buffalo wings places our friends usually go to.
I drove to her house, knock on the door and her brother opens it and gives me a look that said he knows what I’m all about and without saying a word to me calls for his sister. Which kind of got me thinking that she has probably had a more than a few guys come to her house before.”
“Well yeah, not everyone is a hermit like you Evan, especially pretty girls. They have guys picking them up so much it’s probably like another form of public transportation.” George interrupted.
There is nothing like a close friend to put you in your place. They know who you are and your tendencies so well they could pick you apart with surgeon-like precision, it was like always being roasted. George knew too much about me, so it was hard to talk to him sometimes.
“Anyways she comes to the door and I sort of didn’t know what to do, cause like I don’t know her well enough to hug her and shaking hands is kind of too formal. But I ended up awkwardly shaking her hand after all. She didn’t seem to notice how strange it was so I wasn’t about to push the issue.”
“You should have hugged her. Girls will hug any guy. In fact, at least it would have looked bold on your part which is, coincidentally, another thing girls like,” he said with a mouthful of chow mein.
“I guess I should have had you come with me then, ass. You know I don’t know what I’m doing and then you go and point out all the things I’m doing wrong. I know I did it wrong, why do you think I never want to try?”
Silence.
I continued.
“So we hang out at her house for a few minutes and then her friends arrive to pick us up. Two girls and a guy. The guy was dating one of them and the other was Adele’s sorority sister from college or something, Chelsea or something.
We get to the bar and this place is packed. But it’s not so bad, we buy drinks and find a spot to stand and talk a little bit.
I’m talking with Adele making a few jokes, shes laughing which always makes me feel good and out of nowhere this tall white guy walks up behind her and pokes her in the sides with his fingers.
It turns out it was an old friend of hers and no sooner had he appeared than they went outside to have a smoke. So the rest of us order new drinks and I start talking with Chelsea because the other two were doing the closed off lovey dovey thing. Chelsea and I got along pretty well and we had a pretty good conversation. Mostly about school, she was studying history and that’s always been one of my favorite subjects.
It was really easy to talk to her because, well, I wasn’t attracted to her. You know that about me. I can only speak to girls who are neutral. I guess I don’t really care what I say to them as much so I open up better.
However, in the course of conversation I start to realize that she is really interested in what I’m saying. I mean really interested.
She was leaning in and smiling and nodding and laughing at all the really corny stuff I was saying and it dawned on me that this girl might actually be liking me.”
“So long story short you ended up going home with her.” George butted in.
We both laughed.
“Yeah totally man, it was a wild night. But seriously, long story short, Adele comes back with that dude and we find a booth and I end up sitting next to Chelsea instead of Adele for the rest of the night. The two of them go to the bathroom together and at the table start whispering stuff at each other and I realize that this whole evening might not have been just an invitation to hang out with Adele, but they were actually trying to set me and Chelsea up.
After that I stayed pretty much quiet, but it was too late. Chelsea kept talking, Adele kept smiling at us and I could do nothing about it. So yeah, it was fun, but I really don’t think Adele likes me. It sort of sucks to think I was getting somewhere only to end up at square one.”
George was done with his food now and he gave me a rather obviously annoyed look. I knew what was coming again.
“Alright dude, it wasn’t a date. But don’t you sit here and tell me that no girl likes you or whatever downer interpretation of last night you concocted because girls don’t invite random guys to hang out with them on Friday nights. Believe me, I’ve done the hang out with friends thing before and you know where that leads? Hanging out alone. And I don’t know what you do with girls alone, probably cry about how nobody likes you, but I know what I do.”
I didn’t say anything back. I didn’t believe him, I was there, I knew what I saw. I shouldn’t have replied to her message that night because I liked Adele too much to be pawned off to someone else.
I went back home I feeling little more nauseous than before.
That night I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a person I did not like. It was 2:24AM, and I could not sleep again. My arms were positioned like the limbs of a compass, propping up my ever increasing frame. The mirror was a map of the present, plotting a course in current time, but indicating to me what was to be a grim future.
I stared into my own face, bloated and unrecognizable. My cheeks were smooth and plump, pushing together the sides of the mouth and framing my chin. The only thing I recognized was the portion above the equator of my ears despite the ever decreasing hairline. My head was in two uneven hemispheres, the the north with a melting ice cap and the south engorged with magma.
What was perhaps a vain novelty to most was a true struggle for me. I hated the way people saw me. I was either the "Big Guy" or "Extra Large Tshirt" or "5 spot on basketball." I was always the biggest of the small or smallest of the big, neither being an enviable position.
On the outside I might have looked large but I never perceived myself that way. It wasn't until I crossed my reflection that I would realize my girth. In that way, the mirror betrayed me.
So did my friends. Telling me that I looked fine, that I wasn't fat, that the right person would love me for who I was.
I really hated that. Or when my plump brethren would flaunt their appearance and say that the world needed to conform its image to them rather than the polar opposite. Big was the new beautiful.
It didn't feel that way to me. I knew how girls saw me. How Adele probably saw me. Funny maybe, friendly sure, but not ever a consideration beyond that. I was for some other "lucky" girl, but never them.
There were times when I looked at my misshapen form and wished I could cut out the fat with a knife and be done with it. There were other times when I wished I was invisible all together.
It didn't depress me to look in the mirror, it defined me.
"I can't fucking stand it!" I yelled at myself.
Taking a handful of skin and flesh in in my grip I shuttered and cried out.
"All my life this held me back. Every time a girl passed me over, or a shirt didn't fit, or a doctor told me to lose weight, it got worse."
I slammed my fist down on the fake marble counter. I slammed it again.
"I can take it sometimes, but it just builds up and it kills me, it honestly goddamned kills me."
My hand was red and shaking from the two full force impacts. In a short while it would hurt a lot more. A trickle of blood started down from my left nostril, flowing to the framing crease in my cheek like a flash flood through a desert riverbed.
"Ok Evan, calm down." I said while holding the bridge of my nose with my right hand and blindly searching for a tissue with the other.
I knew it wasn't my body that hurt me so much. It was my mind holding me hostage, forcing me to feel in exile on nurturing spring days.
In my heart I still wished the best for me though. My mind had no control over that.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Silence is always poison
The dogs are barking again
those mutts speaking their peace
waking up an otherwise quiet early evening
They are like the rest of the world to me
Loud and unashamed
but never misunderstood
Silence is the worst death possible
being mute, a slow poison
Especially when you finally decide to speak up a bit
Because you can't remember how it goes
how the lips are supposed to move
And the sounds are not like a song
but a warning siren
telling others to ignore or leave
So you shut up and hide away, quietly angry
at how easily voice comes to those who use it too much
And frustrated that you might have scared off
the only ones who ever gave an ear
in the first place
I hope I'm mistaken but something tells me I'm not
I'll spare the surprise and say I like her
because at this point
I'd rather someone knew it before they ran away
from the shrill screech of me
trying to express myself
Too many times I watched them walk up to me
and continue on their way
I'd sooner be so wrong
Than proven right out of stagnation
Oh regret, you dance around me now
mocking
and daring me to hide
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Spring Days In Exile (Part 1)
It was one of those perfect weather days I immediately wished would just end. It was absolutely beautiful outside, like so many 75 degree spring afternoons in Southern California. But my spirits were not tied to the temperature or the clarity of the air.
Kids were coming home from school, walking through the streets outside my window, laughing, smiling cause an unusually cold winter had finally made it's way south.
I shut the shades a little tighter.
I didn't want to go anywhere, I didn't want to see anybody, I just wanted it to be some other day in the future. So I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling but in reality focusing on the thoughts playing back and forth in my mind. That cursed organ or concept or whatever it was, my mind was low on something at the moment. All I felt was isolation and stress and inability. What a crappy thing to do to me on a Friday afternoon.
Despite the airtight blinds my room was still lit by an artificial sun from an artificial world. The computer screen shone brightly like a full moon.
I turned away from it. Not because of the light but because of what was displayed on it. A web page with a simple photo in the corner. A girl posing, smiling, staring at me through the lens. She wore an earthy green summer dress with a small print and her hair poured down her forehead like a waterfall. So natural and serene like the day outside. So I fought the urge to look at either.
My dog barked at all the traffic outside our house despite my parents and brother yelling at him to stop. Two wrongs trying to make a right. I turned up my music to drown out the noise from all of them.
All this music and I don't even want to hear any of it, I thought to myself as I scanned my Ipod for any sort of relief from the circus going on around me. I settled on Death Cab cause even when I didn't want to listen to them I always could.
"...I need you so much closer, I need you so much closer..." And I fell asleep.
Hours later I awoke to darkness and silence and shot my digital clock a look.
8:42 PM it informed me.
Satisfied that I had defeated the terrible day, I sat up and cracked the excess of sleep out of my spine. Finally leaving my matress I transferred my body to the chair in front of the sleeping computer. It sighed to life with a whirr and a couple robotic tics. And all it once her image came to me like a Vietnam flashback in a bad eighties movie. I quickly refreshed the browser window and erased her for the time being.
Then I heard the familiar bloop of a new iChat window and stared at the electronic translation of a thought in type.
-Hey Therrrrre
It was her. Adele Lopez, the girl from my screen, the image from my flashback, the girl manifest as a Friday afternoon was suddenly posing a common colloquialism to me. I wanted to respond and at the same time not.
Over the past week I had finally been resolved to let her go and it seemed fate dealt me a cruel hand.
-Hi Adele, how have you been
Then nothing. For three minutes I watched the empty speech box and imagined my conversation buried somewhere in six or ten other ones she was having with people who deserved her attention. All the guys I'd seen compliment her on Myspace. All the boys who posed so close to her in party pictures. And me staring at an empty speech box.
My heart sunk a bit. I had no confidence in myself and I knew it. I resigned to walk away from the computer with a little dignity and fix myself something to eat.
As I reached the frame of my door a second bloop sounded and I paused in stride. Staring down at my feet and the carpet, I made a decision. I turned around and took a seat in front of the screen to read the response.
-Sorry, I had a phone call and I didn't want to be distracted
I wasn't sure what that meant. Well, I understood what it said, but what was she really telling me? Was the phone a distraction or me? Did she actually care enough about this conversation to give me the courtesy of undivided attention? As was sometimes the problem with instant messaging, words could never give the whole story and I had a bad habit of analyzing intent in the most innocent of statements. Especially when I was already looking for something.
-Oh that's fine, I didn't even notice, I said playing off the small panic attack I had at the sight of her name.
I was strangely good at speaking over instant message. I was able to think about what I said and maximized my personality by joking almost constantly. It must have been a bit like conversing with a Vaudevillian comic.
But the longer it went on, the brighter I became. Adele was seemingly happy to play back and forth with me. Suddenly my terrible Friday might be salvaged. Then she surprised me.
-Hey Evan, I gotta go now because I've got to get ready to hang out with some friends, but I wanted to say you are welcome to come along if you want
If I had a panic attack because of what she said before, this threw my heart into a full blown conniption of conflicting, overloaded thoughts. Of course I wanted to say yes. So I quickly got that out of the way.
- Sure that'd be fun. Where are you going?
She named off some bar I'd never heard of but it didn't matter. She could have named The Palms in Las Vegas and I would have been at the airport buying a ticket in the best D-Bag Diesel Jeans, striped button shirt and leather Florsheim shoes I could find on the way.
-Just come over to my house, my friends are driving
I couldn't believe it was this easy. My personality had never paid off before and I was on the cusp of strange territory. I still had no confidence but at least my mind was too distracted to realize that this fortunate turn of events was being wasted on me.
And I rushed out the door to take a shower, smiling that I wouldn't have to spend ALL my Spring days in self-imposed exile.
Kids were coming home from school, walking through the streets outside my window, laughing, smiling cause an unusually cold winter had finally made it's way south.
I shut the shades a little tighter.
I didn't want to go anywhere, I didn't want to see anybody, I just wanted it to be some other day in the future. So I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling but in reality focusing on the thoughts playing back and forth in my mind. That cursed organ or concept or whatever it was, my mind was low on something at the moment. All I felt was isolation and stress and inability. What a crappy thing to do to me on a Friday afternoon.
Despite the airtight blinds my room was still lit by an artificial sun from an artificial world. The computer screen shone brightly like a full moon.
I turned away from it. Not because of the light but because of what was displayed on it. A web page with a simple photo in the corner. A girl posing, smiling, staring at me through the lens. She wore an earthy green summer dress with a small print and her hair poured down her forehead like a waterfall. So natural and serene like the day outside. So I fought the urge to look at either.
My dog barked at all the traffic outside our house despite my parents and brother yelling at him to stop. Two wrongs trying to make a right. I turned up my music to drown out the noise from all of them.
All this music and I don't even want to hear any of it, I thought to myself as I scanned my Ipod for any sort of relief from the circus going on around me. I settled on Death Cab cause even when I didn't want to listen to them I always could.
"...I need you so much closer, I need you so much closer..." And I fell asleep.
Hours later I awoke to darkness and silence and shot my digital clock a look.
8:42 PM it informed me.
Satisfied that I had defeated the terrible day, I sat up and cracked the excess of sleep out of my spine. Finally leaving my matress I transferred my body to the chair in front of the sleeping computer. It sighed to life with a whirr and a couple robotic tics. And all it once her image came to me like a Vietnam flashback in a bad eighties movie. I quickly refreshed the browser window and erased her for the time being.
Then I heard the familiar bloop of a new iChat window and stared at the electronic translation of a thought in type.
-Hey Therrrrre
It was her. Adele Lopez, the girl from my screen, the image from my flashback, the girl manifest as a Friday afternoon was suddenly posing a common colloquialism to me. I wanted to respond and at the same time not.
Over the past week I had finally been resolved to let her go and it seemed fate dealt me a cruel hand.
-Hi Adele, how have you been
Then nothing. For three minutes I watched the empty speech box and imagined my conversation buried somewhere in six or ten other ones she was having with people who deserved her attention. All the guys I'd seen compliment her on Myspace. All the boys who posed so close to her in party pictures. And me staring at an empty speech box.
My heart sunk a bit. I had no confidence in myself and I knew it. I resigned to walk away from the computer with a little dignity and fix myself something to eat.
As I reached the frame of my door a second bloop sounded and I paused in stride. Staring down at my feet and the carpet, I made a decision. I turned around and took a seat in front of the screen to read the response.
-Sorry, I had a phone call and I didn't want to be distracted
I wasn't sure what that meant. Well, I understood what it said, but what was she really telling me? Was the phone a distraction or me? Did she actually care enough about this conversation to give me the courtesy of undivided attention? As was sometimes the problem with instant messaging, words could never give the whole story and I had a bad habit of analyzing intent in the most innocent of statements. Especially when I was already looking for something.
-Oh that's fine, I didn't even notice, I said playing off the small panic attack I had at the sight of her name.
I was strangely good at speaking over instant message. I was able to think about what I said and maximized my personality by joking almost constantly. It must have been a bit like conversing with a Vaudevillian comic.
But the longer it went on, the brighter I became. Adele was seemingly happy to play back and forth with me. Suddenly my terrible Friday might be salvaged. Then she surprised me.
-Hey Evan, I gotta go now because I've got to get ready to hang out with some friends, but I wanted to say you are welcome to come along if you want
If I had a panic attack because of what she said before, this threw my heart into a full blown conniption of conflicting, overloaded thoughts. Of course I wanted to say yes. So I quickly got that out of the way.
- Sure that'd be fun. Where are you going?
She named off some bar I'd never heard of but it didn't matter. She could have named The Palms in Las Vegas and I would have been at the airport buying a ticket in the best D-Bag Diesel Jeans, striped button shirt and leather Florsheim shoes I could find on the way.
-Just come over to my house, my friends are driving
I couldn't believe it was this easy. My personality had never paid off before and I was on the cusp of strange territory. I still had no confidence but at least my mind was too distracted to realize that this fortunate turn of events was being wasted on me.
And I rushed out the door to take a shower, smiling that I wouldn't have to spend ALL my Spring days in self-imposed exile.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Better off
You know I never meant for it to end that way
but you see I'm not always myself these days
and you were someone
I just couldn't stand being two faced around
That doesn't mean everything that happened wasn't real
cause you don't miss apparitions
and I do
miss talking to you sometimes
But I let those other things in the way
those things that tighten the gap between man and ape
Those primordial inclinations
Which made me cut off my right hand
To preserve the left
It's no consolation but I was trying to protect you too
and it's hard to delicately shield another person
from yourself
I feel like the bridges I burned were in some part necessary
but still, I can't help wishing
there was a way to see across the divide
And so now months later I do feel the void
like a phantom limb
And I keep expecting it to be there
but when I look, its just free space
I don't know if you still come around here to see whats happening
in my screwed up head
but if there is any bitterness on your end
I want to say there is none on mine
You are better off now than then
So I guess in that way I achieved what I set out to do
a success despite myself
God, it's no wonder I'm not with someone
Why should anybody go through that
I'm sorry, really
Friday, March 20, 2009
The flirtations of a fool: Terminal B, Gate 56 nonstop service to Ontario
There is this girl in green
Looking right at me
Unabashed unwavering
seemingly infatuated with me
or something in my direction
And I'm facing her
trying not to get sucked into the blackhole
Of a possibly interested female gaze
It's not love at first sight for me
or even fleeting attraction
but I am still taken by her persistence
It's so rare I am flattered
in this way
I think our eyes met a few times
though I could hardly hold it
for longer than a few seconds
But now she is distracted by the phone
And I'm the one painting her with stares
like Van Gogh's Starry Night
Laying it on thick
With Denver International Airport as a canvas
While hundreds of people run and stress
over where they will end up in a few hours
I just did it again
Looked right at her while she looked at me
My guess is that by the time I warm up
To the idea of flirting a bit
She'll have gotten over whatever
Fascinated her about me
in the first place
And it wouldn't be the first time
Late budding confidence
Has never bloomed into anything
Save for esteem wilting disappointment
And neither will comparing myself to a flower
Ahhh! but the airport is a rotten place to waste a day
Looking right at me
Unabashed unwavering
seemingly infatuated with me
or something in my direction
And I'm facing her
trying not to get sucked into the blackhole
Of a possibly interested female gaze
It's not love at first sight for me
or even fleeting attraction
but I am still taken by her persistence
It's so rare I am flattered
in this way
I think our eyes met a few times
though I could hardly hold it
for longer than a few seconds
But now she is distracted by the phone
And I'm the one painting her with stares
like Van Gogh's Starry Night
Laying it on thick
With Denver International Airport as a canvas
While hundreds of people run and stress
over where they will end up in a few hours
I just did it again
Looked right at her while she looked at me
My guess is that by the time I warm up
To the idea of flirting a bit
She'll have gotten over whatever
Fascinated her about me
in the first place
And it wouldn't be the first time
Late budding confidence
Has never bloomed into anything
Save for esteem wilting disappointment
And neither will comparing myself to a flower
Ahhh! but the airport is a rotten place to waste a day
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Garden of Gathsemane
There was a vessel so giving it took on
the weight of another's sorrow
As the water came seeping through the cracks
it poured into her basin
Filling up fast
But she received it nonetheless
Though I worry sometimes
that her capacity be reached too quickly
and without time to drain
she might become fractured as well
There was a tragedy so great
It seemed fictional
Surreal and unsettling as any
Shakespeare wrote
I felt numb for a day and a half
Despite how far removed I was
And yet you charged forward with purpose
like a battlefield medic
resigned to duty over self
These words are yet all I could muster
To unthinkable loss
I fear they border on ineffective
Or worse
A mockery of the beauty of life
And the delicacy of it's uncertainty
God seems so distant at these times
but I take solace
When I see selfless acts in times of crisis
He has placed angels on this earth
For those who must mourn
So they may find comfort
When their thread has been stretched apart
But I wonder about the angels
and who will lift them up
because God knows it hurts them too
the weight of another's sorrow
As the water came seeping through the cracks
it poured into her basin
Filling up fast
But she received it nonetheless
Though I worry sometimes
that her capacity be reached too quickly
and without time to drain
she might become fractured as well
There was a tragedy so great
It seemed fictional
Surreal and unsettling as any
Shakespeare wrote
I felt numb for a day and a half
Despite how far removed I was
And yet you charged forward with purpose
like a battlefield medic
resigned to duty over self
These words are yet all I could muster
To unthinkable loss
I fear they border on ineffective
Or worse
A mockery of the beauty of life
And the delicacy of it's uncertainty
God seems so distant at these times
but I take solace
When I see selfless acts in times of crisis
He has placed angels on this earth
For those who must mourn
So they may find comfort
When their thread has been stretched apart
But I wonder about the angels
and who will lift them up
because God knows it hurts them too
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
My name on newsprint
A couple of dogs loose from their owner run free
for a few moments
Happy and slobbery like a dog should always be
Unaware of the potential harm
which might come to them
should they venture too far from the perfectly manicured front lawn
And I leaned on my truck and the night air was freezing
and clear
Clear straight through the thousands of miles to the surface of the moon
which was so immediate and full
out of place, but bold
A screaming white glow which all but the brightest light
from the closest stars
fell victim too
And I moved to stand on a very short brick wall
of the very small brick planter
with mostly dead shrubs
and weeds which even looked neglected
Teetering slightly, fighting to find perfect balance on my bare feet
while my friend spoke to me
and I listened
and spoke and questioned and participated
but at that moment my mind was divided
A young couple (well younger than I) strolled past
shoulder to shoulder, smiling
I think going nowhere in particular
Which I found endearing
because doing absolutely nothing
with somebody who might mean something
is never a waste of time
Whispering on my neck
the breeze picked up slightly and I zipped up my new blue coat
that I really liked
though nobody would compliment me on it
cause maybe only I thought it looked alright
And it still had the smell from the bar the night before
Not a lot happened that night in the bar,
(well not that would be any sort of interesting story)
but to me it was like this new blue jacket
I was proud of it
and maybe I didn't stand out
In a crowd full of people with flashier coats
better stories and witty banter
but it was a start
Of what I don't know
I don't know where I am going these days
At least I am trying
So I stepped down from the bricks and onto the icy concrete sidewalk
under the streetlamp outside my front yard
the same sidewalk I laid on alone 13 years earlier
and stared up at the overcast sky
Daydreaming about what life would be like when I became an adult
And on nights like this
I still do
for a few moments
Happy and slobbery like a dog should always be
Unaware of the potential harm
which might come to them
should they venture too far from the perfectly manicured front lawn
And I leaned on my truck and the night air was freezing
and clear
Clear straight through the thousands of miles to the surface of the moon
which was so immediate and full
out of place, but bold
A screaming white glow which all but the brightest light
from the closest stars
fell victim too
And I moved to stand on a very short brick wall
of the very small brick planter
with mostly dead shrubs
and weeds which even looked neglected
Teetering slightly, fighting to find perfect balance on my bare feet
while my friend spoke to me
and I listened
and spoke and questioned and participated
but at that moment my mind was divided
A young couple (well younger than I) strolled past
shoulder to shoulder, smiling
I think going nowhere in particular
Which I found endearing
because doing absolutely nothing
with somebody who might mean something
is never a waste of time
Whispering on my neck
the breeze picked up slightly and I zipped up my new blue coat
that I really liked
though nobody would compliment me on it
cause maybe only I thought it looked alright
And it still had the smell from the bar the night before
Not a lot happened that night in the bar,
(well not that would be any sort of interesting story)
but to me it was like this new blue jacket
I was proud of it
and maybe I didn't stand out
In a crowd full of people with flashier coats
better stories and witty banter
but it was a start
Of what I don't know
I don't know where I am going these days
At least I am trying
So I stepped down from the bricks and onto the icy concrete sidewalk
under the streetlamp outside my front yard
the same sidewalk I laid on alone 13 years earlier
and stared up at the overcast sky
Daydreaming about what life would be like when I became an adult
And on nights like this
I still do
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Residue
Faucet water filled the basin
As I washed my face
And I thought about everything
Piling up on me
Faster than I could manage
Like the clogged drain
In the sink
that always left a residue
I thought about attraction
and the subjective nature of connection
About how depressing life seemed
And how I could no longer pinpoint a cause
or just one
I thought about the tapwater dripping down my cheeks
My bloodshot eyes
And the knot in my gut
From every time I am pressured to feel
something I cannot
I thought about how often
Tears follow a laugh
And disappointment a desire
Drying my face
I looked up from the towel
and into the mirror
And there was the reality of it all
Sucking the moisture
out of hope and expectation
Replacing it with arid facts
The gritty realization that my heart
was a son of a bitch
and I now hated him for it
I found myself saddest when I was feeling good
and that notion scares me the most
Staring into my own brown eyes
at all the frustration and despair
I could not stand
to be in the same room with me
So I shut off the bathroom light
And closed the door
Leaving only the gurgling sound
of a slowly draining pool of dirty water
and a bloody mess from the torture
I just put myself through
As I washed my face
And I thought about everything
Piling up on me
Faster than I could manage
Like the clogged drain
In the sink
that always left a residue
I thought about attraction
and the subjective nature of connection
About how depressing life seemed
And how I could no longer pinpoint a cause
or just one
I thought about the tapwater dripping down my cheeks
My bloodshot eyes
And the knot in my gut
From every time I am pressured to feel
something I cannot
I thought about how often
Tears follow a laugh
And disappointment a desire
Drying my face
I looked up from the towel
and into the mirror
And there was the reality of it all
Sucking the moisture
out of hope and expectation
Replacing it with arid facts
The gritty realization that my heart
was a son of a bitch
and I now hated him for it
I found myself saddest when I was feeling good
and that notion scares me the most
Staring into my own brown eyes
at all the frustration and despair
I could not stand
to be in the same room with me
So I shut off the bathroom light
And closed the door
Leaving only the gurgling sound
of a slowly draining pool of dirty water
and a bloody mess from the torture
I just put myself through
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
