Two Hundred Thirty-Seven

Its been days since I've written--the electronic river of other peoples witty, intelligent, blogs has rolled lazily by as I slept. I've been gone--physically, emotionally, and mentally, and I'm not sure if I'm a hundred percent yet, but judging from the reactions of others, I've returned.

none

is it crazy to want this forever--this world, this love, this life? is it wrong to want time in your arms to drag? is it selfish of me to want creation as mine, so i can bend the universe to my will?

who knows

the fairy tale? the charming prince? how bout seven dwarfs and a witch? if you really want fairy tale, think about how we held each other so close and so tight that you forgot to breathe. think about my lips pressed paper cut thin against yours and my tears washing against your cheeks. we've had the dream my dear, we just need to expand it into forever, and ever.

Two Thirty Four

I'm scared. The past is a cliched shawl settling on my shoulders. Please show me a different side of you.

Two Thirty Three

Its a pleasure to meet you. Did you say you deleted me?

Two Hundred Thirty-Two

No hand has touched me since yours were laid upon my arms. No lips have I kissed, no body pressed against mine but yours. You have been my world and now, I'm a comet sent crashing into your earth...

Two Hundred Thirty-One

How long has it been since I've been tubed. A green curtain framing the outside world. I miss standing in the pit.

Two Hundred Thirty

Fuck. My favorite word. A word that can be used wether you're happy or sad, angry or glad. Fuck.

Two Hundred Twenty-Nine

I don't know what's happening. A child walking into the middle of an adult movie would have a better idea of what's going on than I do. Is someone supposed to be the star here, or are we all bit players with no real names, waiting to be wiped out in the first disaster scene?

Two Hundred Twenty-Eight

A day of lose ends and permission slips, calling on old idols for favors, and trying not to get mad. I'm your man baby, I ain't going nowhere, and I want no one but you. It's time you came to believe it, and cut me some slack.

Two Hundred Twenty-Seven

Dead. A man four or five years younger than myself. A fragment of an unfinished life. I knew him. I've met his children. I'm unsettled, he's dead.

Two Hundred Twenty-Seven

The lords day, a day of rest...probably not, you see, I fall into that class of people that get none--rest, that is.

Two Hundred Twenty-Six

Coffee and squirrels and two scorpios, a limb from a dead man and blood of a goat, a piece of old shoelace and twin Romeo's, all boiled together then tossed down the throat.

Two Hundred Twenty-Five

I'm designing a tombstone today. A cover for a work that was put to rest a few weeks ago. It's not completely right--there are elements I love yes, but the faces aren't lined up correctly, it is close though, and soon i'll be able to walk away and look back on it with love.

Two Hundred Twenty-Four

It feels like I'm waiting for something. Maybe it's the other shoe to drop, or, maybe it's the first shoe. Maybe what I'm waiting for is something pleasant and sweet, a happy bump in the road that I can hang around with for awhile. Whatever it is, I'm waiting, and the feeling of anticipation is already here.

Two Hundred Twenty-Three

I'm a dinosaur. A throwback to an era of ass-kicking front men. There's no place for me anymore. Today's singers stare at their shoes, they're weak timid little boys that are afraid to look a crowd in the eyes. I don't belong here. Sure, they may call out for a sing along or a chant, but not a one of them would grab a mic stand and use it as a baseball bat to the head.

Two Hundred Twenty-Two

I'm caught up, and I'll try my hardest not to let you get away again..."fucking blog, you don't stay on it, and it's like a God damn car with no brakes rolling down a hill. I oughta just stop writing the fucker."
"What'd you say?"
"Nothing. Sorry Mr. Blog."

Two Hundred Twenty-One

This should have been Monday's post--a most un-laborious labor day. A quick drive home, a ferris wheel, and a five boy burger with cajun fries. The only real work I put in was watching a piece of celluloid shit. The bonus, Katie returning a box of quarter eaten Nerds in exchange for a cinnamon pretzel.

Two Hundred Twenty

It's all about the migraine--I hiked with Katie this morning, a beautiful walk through a desert oasis, we held hands and kissed as a hundred 7 am degrees rolled over our bodies. It was beautiful and short lived--I went blind at the pool and spent the daze in bed. I promised you a great vacation Katie--can I get 50% for the hike?

Two Hundred Nineteen

114 degrees in the shade. I don't know what the hell those old desert wanderers did to keep cool, but I have a good idea their brains were boiled in their own skulls. The Revelation of St John was probably written while the last drop of sanity evaporated from off his forehead---fiery chariots, death on a horse, and a mystic vision of a hot tub filled with bikini wearing camels.

Two Hundred Eighteen

You ask what happened to my discipline, to my commitment to excellence, well, let me tell you, it got thrown out when I decided to take a vacation to the desert--desert mystics don't blog...

Two Hundred Seventeen

I'm going to write you a song, and I'm going to force you to sing it. It shouldn't be hard to remember, being as it will be constructed with only nine words, and two parts; one verse, and one chorus. The verse " Jack loves me, Jack loves me." The chorus "And I'll never forget it, oh, I'll never forget it."

Two Hundred Sixteen

"Go over there and be happy. Put your feelings aside. Make her smile. Brighten her day. She deserves to be happy." I do all these things. My mentor is right, you deserve my best and I'll do anything I can to please you. The lunch mission goes as expected. We laugh and wrestle, giggling like children on the seaside grass, but after I drive away a text appears on my phone. It's from you, the woman I love. It reads, "I can't believe you're in such a good mood--I guess you didn't care at all, did you?"

Two Hundred Sixteen

It was hard to leave you this morning. I held your hand tight--an attempt to press my love into your flesh. I was hoping you would bruise--a miracle mark of two hearts entwined around a bamboo shaft, a symbol of resilience and love, the story of our lives together, but all you did was smile and gently wipe off my squeeze. I'll keep trying Katie and one day I'll mark you so deep that you never forget or doubt my love.

Two Hundred Fifteen

Your body refuses to be a conspirator in your guise--it fights me with every turn I take. My hand slides across your stomach, and your muscles ripple in angry protest to my touch. My lips graze your neck, and your very breath twists into my hair and attempts to push with its sweet scent. Your words tease me with there 'come-ons' but your soul rules the flesh. There's one lie you can't tell.

Two Hundred Fourteen

Shining, winding through the hills and houses on the point. I let you run ahead--as if I could stop you, and I watched in awe as you delivered as promised. Your majesty is not diminished as you ride. You are a warrior with soft hands and a polished steel heart.

Two Hundred Thirteen

Spin the wheel, and where it lands no one knows--clack...clack...clack...clack...clack--the wheel points north. And so we drive--along the coast through sea oil towns, over bridges to biscuits and gravy and fucked hollandaise. We round the headlands and after some tears and harsh words we stop along a cliff--"I'd rather you didn't jump my dear, but come closer and kiss our hurt away."

Two Hundred Twelve

Why the change? What happened to make you jump back in your hole--run for the open arms of the big man? Did the wild wolf of the world take a nip from your ass, or, in a quick case of animal soul switchery, did you see your shadow and run for safety? I hate to be the doubting human on this one, but something smells fishy, and it's not last nights dinner.

Two Hundred Eleven

A day in bed. Movies and nightshades, dark covers and kisses. I could go days in here, a safari to nowhere dressed in our bed clothes.

Two Hundred Ten

"Did you know he's a freak? Yes, he's a big man, and very strong, but his heart is like a child's. He's weak really, OCD, panic disorder, hypochondriac, he has a thousand ailments and they're all very crippling. I'm not sure why I'm with him really--I mean, other than the joy I get from beating on a big man, there's nothing there to attract me. Oh well, he's all I have for now, I'll call him over. Brother dear, meet my boyfriend."

Two Hundred Nine

A day filled with discussion and dissension--the price of admission and redemption. I'm not sure why you stand at the block begging for the culprit of your misdeeds to be released, but you do. You're not a monster my dear, you're just blindly feeling your way through a world you were unprepared for...and your head, the founder of this unsavory feast, it will soon come around. Just give it time my love, just give it time.

Two Hundred Eight

I recorded a video today and it was for no one but me. It was a piece to remind me, when I get weak, that you are worth every bit of the pain. My friends don't have the heart, or the fortitude, to love someone like you, so they can't help me. They'd run if they were in my shoes. But I'm not like them. I see you Kate, and I know what you're worth. Your love is priceless, and if you want a definition of that, then read this: incalculable. There's a fucking word for you. Your love is an infinity of reward and knowing that, makes any payment small.

Two Hundred Seven

I need to catch up. This blog is a run-away wagon on a steep San Pedro hill and I've got to get on board. I've got somewhere I have to be, a childhood destination. At the bottom of the hill, just around the corner from a suicide bend, is a lost city, it's the perfect place for a young boy that needs to disappear and reappear as someone else.

Two Hundred Six

So let me get this straight, you act out, but then I'm asked to make changes so you're more comfortable and confident in our relationship? Hmmm, I don't really understand it. Next thing I know, you're probably going to tell me that you can't handle what's going on and you need to leave me so you can feel better? Right?

Two Hundred Five

I'm fucking up. I'm missing posts and forgetting even the simplest of things. I think I'll blame it on you--I hope you don't mind--you should be flattered actually, there's not many that get under my skin, and you dear are burrowed so deep. By the way, I'm hurt.

Two Hundred Four

More of the same--paying me back for your fuck-up. I guess I should be honored, there's not many that fuck you over and then have the balls to blame you for it.

Two Hundred Three

Fuck You

Two Hundred Two

I saw someone today--a man who had nothing negative to say about our union. He didn't raise an eyebrow, or batt an eye, when I said that you were half my age, and newly sober. He thought it was nice that you felt safe with me. He smiled when I told him that after a few days together you went back to group. I'm not sure what to think of this--I told the truth, detailed some of our struggles, and still he wasn't unsupportive. Why don't you get the same reaction?

Two Hundred One

Do you want to see something? I have pictures of a grown man crying. It's funnier than fuck--although, a bit creepy at times. My favorite is the one where he thought he'd found love, and the woman in question, grinds a cigarette out on his heart.

Two Hundred

A moment of tense calm--tendrils of a new storm brush against my legs seeking soft purchase on my body. The first strike will fall sometime before noon. Rustling in the bed above me. My five day roommate knows the score in his sleep, but by morning he'll have forgotten the warnings and moved on. The lake is beginning to overflow with blood.

One Hundred Ninety-Nine

I need to evict a few thoughts--they're troublemakers, loud, and obnoxious hangers on from an old negative life. I'm not sure when they moved in, but they're dug in like ticks. I guess I wouldn't mind so much as long as they were quiet, but they're not, you see, anytime my girl is involved in a questionable incident, they wander out on the lawn, yell obscenities, and accuse her of being up to no good.

One Hundred Ninety-Eight

It's good to have a partner, someone that can be trusted, someone that loves you, someone that knows you're on the edge of breaking--and instead of pushing you over, they pull you back and dust you off.............Thank you.

One Hundred Ninety-Seven

I'm pulling for you, and I'm pulling for us--I've never wanted anything so bad in my life. Sweetheart, you can do it, you're a survivor, you're strong, and you're resilient, I will not loose faith in you.

One Hundred Ninety-Six

So your ego is not about to let you have a good time eh? Well, how bout this, what say you and I take that big ego of yours and knock it down to size? I guarantee that we'd all have a better time when your ego gets its ass in line.

One Hundred Ninety-Five

Baby, you know how creepy I can get sometimes, but don't let it frighten you, the madness is only in my head. The fantasy of dreams and dark scenario's is exciting for me, and it takes nothing from you. As a matter of fact, you are the star of my plays--the tall leading lady with the heartbreak eyes and the sunset smile. When I dream my love, I dream of you, the fallen angel of my heart.

One Hundred Ninety-Four

Lunch was wonderful--the golden brown glow of a slightly green and one darker brown pair of eyes set my appetite towards flesh instead of salad. I could hardly eat anyway--they say you have to smell to taste your food, and all I could inhale was you--my lover, my reason for eating at all.

One Hundred Ninety-Three

I couldn't help but think, that you thought you were doing me a favor, by letting me write to you and tell you that I was okay, so that you wouldn't worry.

One Hundred Ninety-Two

Not to be so wishy-washy, but your letter threw six stitches and some crazy glue on my heart. I was kinda wishing you'd sneak over for a good night kiss though.

One Hundred Ninety-One

So where do I start, with the anger, the hurt, the fear? Why don't I begin with the letter of amends I sent to your friend--whom I passively threatened. How do you think that felt, having to apologize for my inappropriate reaction to having my heart crushed. You lost respect for me, you turned your back on me, and you rejected the love I tried to give you. I hurt, but I need to see you as something other than an attacker. I need to see you as sick and not vindictive. I need to see you as a woman who hurt as she was hurt, and I need to see myself as something more than victim, something more than a little boy who doesn't deserve to be loved. I guess I should start with that, I deserve to be loved.

One Hundred Ninety

"Please, don't hurt me again."