feckless

Bye

Al sit’s in the living room, only the light of his laptop defying the dark. An old tape recorder strains to play a tape stretched thin in another room, she, long lost, just so he can feel like he’s not alone. He look’s at the screen, spam his only friend, that’s ok he tell’s himself, they promise so much hope, affordable pharmaceuticals, new ways to excite her, get rich quick, larger member, secret stock tips, mandy from myspace wants to spend time with him, sweet girl. Sometimes up till 5:00am trying to answer all his friends, a good friend always responds. He pops another pill, his baron stomach hopeful for a second, “Slaxex will give you the body and the confidence you’ve always wanted.” At some point he wonders to the kitchen to check on his other friends, Mr.Mormon, Mr. Postman, Ms.Girlscout, and Little Bobby who used to mow his lawn, all nicely placed around the stained Formica table, the stench of there rotting flesh no longer makes his nostrils flair. “More chips, another beer Mr.Mormon?” He walks to the sink vomits violently and looks out the window, “I’m a lucky man.” he says to no one in particular. He see’s she and the children playing in the grass, happy as can be. Time to start the grill up, Al reaches under the sink and grabs the charcoal lighter fluid and heads outside. Al soaks his clothing, his hair, the grass around him. As he drops the lit match into the grass, tears fall from his eyes, relief and horror as all insanity vanishes in to the air. The back door is now a full length mirror,”how did I get here piece by piece? Am I going to heaven or hell? Will I be forgiven? Have I been sane all this time and the world around me lost?” He smiles a crooked smile and

dancing with myself oh oh o-oh

A few months ago someone talked me in to a f@cebook page, I’ve reconnected with a lot of old friends and for the most part it’s pretty cool, but it has been some cause for questioning how I have lived my life. I think this perhaps is part of some mini mid life crisis I’m having, I don’t know at the moment. My life has been a little unconventional, adventurous, and a bit crazy, which is normal to me, given my upbringing, but I’ve always longed for something a little more conventional, one failed marriage later. Just about all of my friends have kids and some are crazy successful in their chosen field, the grass is always greener type of thing. While many were enriching there minds in school, I tried to bed as many women as possible in NYC, not much to show for that. It makes me wince a little when I talk to an old friend and they mention how busy I was with the ladies. I don’t wanna look back and wonder what if…… and has my level headed rock of a friend T has said,” shut the fuck up, your life is pretty good.” So what’s the problem, why do I feel more comfortable when there’s some level of danger, why do I have to have a job where there is some bit of chaos, is this my comfort zone? Why do I wanna live in a Norman Rockwell picture? Why question what's going just fine, does just fine make me nervous?

And then…

  Yearning for something from my past I built a replica of a guitar that passed back and forth between my best friend and I, Stacy was the name we gave it , a 1972 Strat. He was my best friend, like in a movie, know what I mean? The second person in my life I ever trusted, I never judged him and nor he me. At some point he started using Heroine, I helped him clean up once but he started again, it was very sad. The last time I saw him 12 years ago he was at an all time low. I told him without judgment to call me when he was cleaned up and bought him a bus ticket home. We lost contact. Then one day I ran into a mutual friend who told me he had OD'd and then I ran into someone else who told me the same. At some point I said good bye in my own way. It was a big loss for me, but I eventually got over it................wait, what? As if the completion of that guitar sent something out into the universe, he contacted me two weeks ago, I found out he is living in the midwest, has a wife of ten years, 3 kids, and a good job. Man-o-man I was not prepared for the projectile vomit of emotions this news had torn from my guts. At first I could not return his call, I went into a deep funk, how to undo the acceptance of death and loss and everything...and then I was pissed off, fucker! I spent a couple of days circling myself, boxing myself emotionally, never landing the KO. Finally I called him, the conversation was a little superficial at first, at some point he broke the ice and asked what I was thinking, to which I replied, “ I don't know if I were in front of you if I would hug you or shoot you.” Many apologies, embarrassment for the last state I saw him in, etc... After awhile we were talking as if there was no 12 year gap in our friendship. I'm still reeling a little, being a little melodramatic with myself, feeling mas crazy. Although this feeds into what I’m already going through, in some way it seems like maybe this is a good time to go through this, whatever this is. Mind-fucking myself has had some advantages, did a nice art piece for a show, rebuilt and organized my shop, other than to much coffee and vodka, I’ve been eating exceptionally healthy. I don’t fucking know but I’m ok with that.

push

The taste in my mouth, not my bloody lip,

you got me coming around the side, my blind eye,

I never would have known except for the blood beneath my feet,

making that squishy noise like raft mac and cheese stiring in a pan.

my eye between my toes.

I picked up my blind eye to read what you had written on it,

"you taste like meat." was all you wrote.

mini-ramble

I have absolutely nothing to say, but I miss coming here. I'm still settling in a little, in my heart. I don't think I've ever worked at anything as hard as trying to fix what wasn't working. I am starting to feel alright though. I had forgotten what it was like to be treated nicely.

I have a friend at work who is convinced in 2012 the world will end. I get daily updates on what he has learned and youtube videos about aliens and related material. Having children has caused him to worry about the world.

The Verve have gotten back together, I hope this is a good thing.

that's all.

if bruce campbell were here............

I saw the ugly side of a woman today, were not close, so it's ok.It made me think that her cunt must feel like a 60 grit sandpaper tunnel with rotten flaky brown viper fangs waiting inside. It made me feel dirty. I bought some lever 2000 to try and clean my 2000 parts of the disgust, I scrubbed till I bled, but I still felt dirty. If dear baby jesus was here I would remove his shit filled diaper and throw it at her. Perhaps seeing this ugliness has caused a tumor to begin to grow in my brain and soon I will be a vegetable, I would like to be spinach.

SLV

Earlier this evening, sitting at my desk for a moment I reached down the back of my shirt while stretching and discovered something you left behind. There between my shoulder blades, running horizontal, raised skin crowned by a thin rough scab, a small scratch. One of many left by you, but some how it has become my favorite, maybe because I can access it privatley in public. I like to run my finger across it while thinking of you, not just the moment that your nails broke through skin, but all the moments I spend with you. Makes me smile and breath deep.

madness

See what I tell ya, I awoke to this and the dryer below is full of towels.

mmm...mh...

I have just finished a piece of bbq burnt meat that came from a big container in the fridge. It was delicious, I'm not sure if it was chicken or pork, doesn't matter. I have roommates now and that is what we do, leave stuff for one another. Food , liqueur, DVD's, whatever. One of the two I don't see that often, but I do see his laundry and it's usually a big load of towels. Is there such a thing as a towel fetish? I certainly don't have one, I have one towel at this moment and don't see buying a second anytime soon. He's a Samoan, so I wonder if he wears them out, cause sometimes he does walk around in something that looks like a curtain. It's always a giant load of towels, seems to be once a week. My other roommate is endlessly pursuing women on the internet, this seems to work for him, go boy. It's a large house, so we all have plenty of space, very nice. Thats all, I'm trying.