cursive (all of a sudden)

when it comes to handwriting, i write in print. always. my signature is a combination of print and cursive, but that's about the only time i ever tinker with cursive. i'm not sure why. there's something a little too spirited about cursive. you had better be having a damn good day if you write me a note in cursive. i just won't put up with cursive-abuse. it's abusive enough by itself. so, why is it that i've been getting the urge to write in cursive lately?

magic?
expanded consciousness?
love?
metal illness?
disillusionment?

strengthening

i feel really good. my muscles have been so sore the past few days, but i know it's from all the skating. i've been asked why i was limping several times. pretty funny. i looked like an old man hobbling all over the place. i knew that since the muscles were growing i needed to keep working them. so, we went to the park last night. ryan (friend) has been teaching me ramps. skating street my whole life had me stuck in a skateboard rut. i'm not as bad at the transition as i thought.

i have a bunch of bruises and scabs and scrapes, of course.

a poem:

Hunger
by Billy Collins

The fox you lug over your shoulder
in a dark sack
has cut a hole with a knife
and escaped.

The sudden lightness makes you think
you are stronger
as you walk back to your small cottage
through a forest that covers the world.

rolling out of bed all day long

that's what's going on. nothing else. i have so much i should be doing (i suppose), but i'm not out to impress anyone. no one is happy when i clean my apartment. if i'm happy about it at all, it's minimal.

i send up my anger like pillars of enraged marble into the unassuming firmament. the earth spews it's dusty spitle at my feet. the architecture of pain raises a roof over my throbbing skull. etc. etc.

where's this coming from? well, i'm childish and i have nothing better to do than listen to my feelings.

happiness in being wrong

there is nothing right about all of this. nothing. but i guess i'm used to it. being wrong is second nature now. i let something grow inside of me. i let it take up more space than ever before. it grew in all directions. i felt it everywhere.

our lives were a duet with outrageous harmonies. it figures one of us would go solo. people have their reasons. i wanted to understand at first. now, i just want to put it all in a box and forget it. i wrote all the songs. i came up with all the melodies. you just showed up. you're beautiful, and i hope someone can use that.

you knocked the breath out of me. i'm doubled over.

i feel the need to rant. that's not an apology. it might be wrong, but it's exactly what i need. my sister told me about a friend of her and her husband's who has two tumors in his brain. they're not sure yet if they are malignant or benign, but one of them is deep in the core of his brain and they don't think they will even try to take that one out. it's too dangerous. besides, his brain has gotten used to it. it's grown around it. that's what all of this feels like. the deepest, most rooted thing is being ripped from my insides. if you think i'll go through this quietly...you are wrong.

if you haven't already written me off, hear this:
i will find happiness in being wrong. i will run screaming into the hills and live with the animals before i let this happen again. i deserve more. maybe that sounds like i'm convincing myself, but i wouldn't have to if i wasn't so weak and defeated. who did that to me? you. own up to it. i know it's easier to keep your focus on your own affairs, but there are things happening outside of the big city...believe it or not. hearts break in middle america. i'm proof.

dead

why bother?

open letter to amanda green

i don't want to cry anymore. all of my anger and rage comes from a very honest place. anyone with eyes can see how i feel. it's all over my face.

you think this "gap" is all about you. it's your time, right? little miss wide eyes needs to live. oh yeah, i really want to sit around watching you figure things out. i have nothing better to do with my life. also, i don't care if you think my sarcastic tone is wrong. i'm taking me back.

you've worn me down. i don't like that.

sam

i felt bad for alanis morissette last night

ok, so you know how the stuff she sings about in her song "Ironic" isn't ironic at all? well, why pigeonhole her? so, i listened to the lyrics this time:

It's the good advice that you just didn't take

i've been there, alanis. i feel your pain. as a matter of fact, i'm going through something right now that really sounds like what you're singing about.

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face

whoa! stop reading my mind!

It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife

i wouldn't say "wife"...but there is something that's getting between me and what i want. that's like what you'e talking about, right? sure, the "ironic flub" sucked, but these lyrics scratch me right where i itch.

i seriously felt bad for her. when you've been denied happiness as much as she has, you'll get a special pass with the english language, too. it lets you use it incorrectly and still get your point across. we all knew what she meant. admit it. there is something ironic about failure. you don't even know what you're doing on this planet, but you think you should be able to judge what is "supposed" to happen in life. what is it that can give us such egos? you're just lucky when someone bumps into you in the never-ending fog and you realize that you can go the next leg of the journey with someone to talk to. why would anyone turn down a partner? that's what i want to know.

isn't it ironic that a person would listen to a song that they thought didn't make any sense and then learn something from it...doncha think?

playing around

i started working on scene one last night. i think i'm really setting a mood. that's the goal. if i can create characters within a believable space that act naturally within that space, that would really push the plot and sub-plot and so on, on. things will "fall" into place from there. i remember one of my professors telling us about a novelist who said that she didn't observe her characters; she chased after them. what a beautiful way to look at it.

sometimes i start thinking about the play and i burst with ideas. i need focus. i told barbara (a co-worker) today at lunch that i want the kind of focus that a person has when they think they are about to be killed by someone. you're strapped naked to an operating table and they have a chainsaw about a foot from your neck...you're thinking, "how can i get through this? i must live." that kind of focus is priceless.

it's funny where ideas come from. i was driving home from a friend's last night and i saw a wreck on the freeway. the paramedics were out doing their thing. for some reason i imagined a paramedic who goes around using his "so there i was, scraping this poor, old lady's skull off the road..." stories to impress people at parties. i also imagined his kid both loving the gory details and detesting his father's self-righteous attitude.

Enter Porter. (my main character)

paste

i asked one of the girls working in the grocery store, who was walking past in the toothpaste aisle, if she knew the difference between "invigorating mint" and "refreshing mint." she smiled at me. i'm glad she liked my joke.

SEINFELD - eat your heart out!

...

s

a windfall wasted

i need to get around
need to turn from upside down
blood was pumping when i woke up
and if it spills
it's not like it won't soak up

HOOKED

38 - 41

can anyone say "party"?
my friend and i went downtown after the game last night to join in on the city-wide celebration. we had no idea how big it could get. every car...let me stress that part...EVERY CAR we passed/were behind/were ahead of was honking like mad and EVERYONE was jumping like 4 feet in the air throwing up the HOOK 'EM! it was total grid-lock but it was exactly what everyone wanted.
once we got downtown, we found a sweet parking space and took to our skateboards. we just weaved in and out of people yelling and letting their inner nutcase out. at first we thought we'd go drinking, but we quickly realized that there was more adrenaline in that place than we'd ever be able to handle tipsy/drunk. so, we just watched people and skated.

i had fun.

s p a c e s b e t w e e n

i imagine
getting off my couch.
i imagine
packing my luggage.
i imagine
locking my front door.

i imagine
taking a bus to the airport.

i imagine
checking my bags.

i imagine
zig-zagging through the cattle call.
i imagine
walking through the "beep" machine.

i imagine
putting my shoes back on.

i imagine
waiting.
i imagine
boarding.
i imagine
taxiing.
i imagine
flying.
i imagine
crying.
i imagine
landing.

i imagine
looking for my luggage.
i imagine
buying my transit pass.

i imagine
riding the bus into the city.
i imagine
crossing the crosswalk at broadway to your side.

i imagine
walking.
i imagine
smiling.
i imagine
standing.
i imagine
buzzing.

i imagine
knocking on your door.
i imagine
looking into your face.

can you imagine?

resolute

well, i just missed new year's day, but i can still make some resolutions:

-i'd like to make enough money to not have to work two jobs
-losing some weight around my belly would be great, too
-read more
-write more (maybe i'll finish the play i'm "working" on)
-meet new people

i'll stop there. five reslotions is plenty to set myself up with.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

for some reason, saying that to people this year took on new meaning. i felt it more. strange.