Saturday, December 29, 2007

Snowy Roads, Christmas Memories, and a New Car

and a partridge in a pear tree... :)

The snow was really coming down the weekend before Christmas, my celebration with my family in Chicago. I'd flown in to a $400 discount in comparison to flying the weekend after. The first night wasn't so bad; but then it was snowstormin'. Myself and my family are driving down a "highway" or so it may have been if I could've seen the road. I gripped tightly to the steering wheel looking at the mausoleums of dead SUVs and sedans puzzled into white drifts on the sides. Trying to keep the Toyota Corolla rental in those truck tracks because something bad was going to happen if I didn't.

But we made it home and had a good time.

Then the next weekend ole Blue Eyes and I headed up to Northern California to visit his parents for Christmas. The road there is always so much faster than the road back down. But we got to ride in his new 2008 Toyota Matrix on the way down. All fresh miles slipping off on the 5 southbound. The laughter, the board games, the family, and the food all twizzle together in my thoughts and it was Jesus Christ came down that night.

But we made it home and had a good time.

So the new year is upon us and I also have a SILVER 2008 Scion tC to celebrate this year. That was my own present giv'n at the start of December. A thought to the reason for the season goes a long way. Love to all, Peace and Joy. And Thank God He Sent His Son.

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Tuesday, December 11, 2007

28 and Free: bitter delerium

i remember the elation bubbling within as a blue scion xa cruised down the 405 south. elation, not born of love, but of freedom of choice slithered in. i arrived at your doorstep and you let me in. you casually exposed me to jon stewart, and i remembered distinctly the first mp3 you sent me and the coy way you copied papers just down the aisle from me at work.

i stared into your hazel eyes and you stared into mine. i debated a choice and what it meant and where i wanted you. want and need are funny little words.

so for once i demanded what i wanted and i got it.

the tense awkwardness was intimate in its own way and i think it wasn't supposed to be my intimacy. we shared minutes that are locked in at age 28 and there's no going back. no matter where you are today or what time says to me, that moment can't be erased.

a first kiss like none other. i think you'd agree. i can't see a screenwriter on strike jotting that one down in a notebook for the sitcom next season. nor a movie in production filming a moment as naive and strange as that one.

but that was why it meant something and nothing. randomnity. i think you helped me figure it out that night. i preached the gospel of randomness and yet i had no idea what it was. it was like faith and fate wrapped us in a curtain of desire and repellent and we were motionless to stop it. freedom of choice has its price. i see that now. i lost a friend that night, because after our lips pressed and pushed and slid and tongues fought furiously, you weren't the same, and neither was i.

unready to face that fact, were my thoughts. it was morning after and elation turned to lust and neither of us were fated for more. and then we partied and lusted (don't lie, i know you did) and drunkenly said some things perhaps i shouldn't. because lust isn't justifiable and hardly controllable, even in the best of times, and certainly we weren't controlled.

so you left not a note and erased me from your cellular and you accused me of things that were easier on the conscience, even if untrue, because lust and a moment and a locked in memory can't be defeated. and even the future can't change that.


Monday, December 10, 2007

Even The Stars Lie Sometimes

Even the stars lie sometimes.

Sometimes loneliness creeps in. And you can't save yourself from it. Sometimes you're in a crowd and depression falls on those most fortunate. Time is a thief; it steals from us that which is most precious.

i read a post from a sixteen year old tonight:
im obsessed with a lifesyle i want, but cant have for legally another 2 years.
even then, i dont think ill be prepared.
im done with being a teenager.
i dont dont dont want to hear that ill be saying i wish i was 16 again when im in my twenties.
dont tell me, I already know.
I want to be on my own, make my own decisions, pay my own bills, do what i want, when i want to, with whoever i want to do it with.
its whats been consuming my brain for the past 3 days, it wont leave my thoughts.

and then i thought: but you don't know. you just can't know. i stare down the barrel of 31 and though i'm frightened, i am not perfect. time is one unforgiving thief. you're wiped out of a decade before you've even had a chance to sigh. and then you seek to fear the future, but the future is past before you truly feel it.

Stasis calls the pondering fools of immortality. If only such fools dallied, our poem would be written. Only death isn't fooled.

Today i write a thousand characters and not one means much in the scheme of things. Four or Fifteen people will read this or won't make it this far and so my words are still private. My thoughts are still dormant. A message in a bottle sunk to the bottom of a sea. No island rescuer to pull its precious curled fibers from a sacred lair. And yet I feel depression sliding off, like raindrops on a black umbrella where despair shrugs off freedom.

We, the American People, worship the white man and allow him to prejudice us against our brethren of darker skins. We call the President, god, and then he determines the fate of our grandchildren (or yours as I shan't have any). Because our children's children will live on islands of trash and global warming will thrust her deadly weapons upon them. They shall reap the unholy crop, not us. For them, we sow a thousand SUVs and they shall reap destitution and famine. We drink oil as if our glass can't ever be empty; we taste its liquid darkness as it seeps, warm and salty, downwards into our own oblivion. We won't face ourselves until we're hungover like a dying animal, grasping a white bowl of regret, its waters circling, circling.

The night toils on and sleeplessness beckons. I shan't answer her call tonight. I have lines to write, but another night I will dance with her. Because she won't have it any other way.