29.10.08

. five .

i've been smiling the past couple weeks.  not out of joy but just because, it's the first time in months that i've heard one of my favorite songs on the radio and broke  a smile at the cute lyrics.  it all boils down to a pocket watch.  i guess we all require a little bit of closure in some sense and this was mine.  i've been wondering lately about those butterflies in your stomache and have come to the bitter conclusion that i'm just too old for such pleasures these days.  i guess this was my last shot at young love and it's now time for me to bite the bullet and grow up a little bit.  this is something that i've been avoiding for years, i was stuck in a vortex of naivete, trying to hold onto the last part of my teenage years, but now that it has left i have no options left but to move on, maybe this is something good.  but i'm content in my life as of now.  i have found out that some people i thought were mere casual aquaintances were prepared to be there for me at the drop of a hat, and that is a wonderful feeling, it's nice to know someone cares that much, who before a few months ago barely even knew you.  my eyes have been looking up lately and i'm realizing how nice it is to have someone to cuddle with, even if it's just a friend.  my memories have faded a little bit, but maybe that is for the best, i'll always remember the good times and forget the sad and in the end maybe you were the best i'd ever had or maybe is the best is yet to come.  now i just need to focus on staying out of trouble, which i'm afraid i am already deeply rooting myself into.

14.10.08

. four .

i woke up the other night and grabbed my knee.  i could have sworn there was blood pouring out, my knee cap nearly lacerated at the ligaments. luckily it was all a dream.  there was a girl i knew, we left the party, we know where this is going.  we race to her dorm, running at full speed like some sort of sick contest.  when we reached lot b i finally caught up to her, but our legs became entwined and we whole of us folded like overcooked pasta fresh out of a steamer.  we both approached the ground at an alarming speed, yet it seemed we only had skinned knees.  next our eyes looked down to the horrible sight of blood pouring south.  no pain though, i am beginning to think that even my subconscious has forgotten the feel of stabbing pain, i can't say this is to much of a bad thing. we could barely walk though, something was broken and obviously our immediate agenda had been foiled. just our luck, i knew our lips would never meet.  it was cold though and the sanguine fluid began to curdle a bit.  how wretched.  i for one would have loved to know the end to this story, but REM decided that it was time to move to my final stage of sleep and the scene melted from my eyelids.  a shame i'm so clumsy,  maybe one day we can run again.

8.10.08

. three .

drinking yourself to the point of exhaustion, or sitting along wallowing in your own self pity, i have been slowly trying to decide which of these is the lesser of two evils. the former has presented itself much to often in recent months, but last night i opted for the former.  i left the street lights of pitman and headed south, the entire way wondering what i was doing.  i knew all too well where my car and the deserted roadways were leading me but i did not want to acknowledge.  wildwood is a cold an lonely place at eleven at night in october.  it was the first time since last autumn that i had smelled the brackish water, and it was a welcome scent.  too many memories, i won't know why i do this to myself.   i've wanted to scream for weeks now, but everytime i open my mouth, nothing will come out, i've been on the verge of tears for an eternity but there seems to be a drought taking place.  i though someone deep in my mind that feeling the sand between my toes and smelling that salty air, where it all started, would bring me some sort of peace, if nothing at least some semblance or release. unfortunately, i was wrong.   the second i hit the shores my mind was blank, i wanted to think but there were no thoughts to be had.   i didn't recall the waves being so deafening, but when the rides cease movement and there are not thousands of people on the glorified two by fours a hundred feet prior, those waves are the only sound to be heard, and my ears are still ringing.  beach closed after ten.  boots don't fare well in sand, they had to be removed, i sat atop a sand dune and watched the tide slowly come in, my fingers felt like they were going to fall off.  such quiet, even the gulls didn't utter a word.  solidarity, maybe it's for the best.

5.10.08

. two .

it was about fifty seven degrees out, only an estimate, and i knew by the time that i rose off the pavement my white t shirt would be stained from the dirt on the wheel well, no it was september i was probably wearing a hoodie.  it must have been a bit cooler in previous days for the asphalt was colder than anticipated, but for those two hours temperature was of no consequence.  i took a clove from the small black package, it only held 18, but that is a story of a failed business venture and a discussion for another time.  the sweetness hit my lips but it didn't really matter, the conversation was more engaging than any i had ever experienced.  this was odd for it was no more than frivolous, yet like old friends we could not stop talking, there was no hesitation on either of our parts.  i didn't want to sit there and make out with you, not for lack of attraction, but your words meant too much.  this was a few weeks past sleepless in seattle.  i like to pretend that we had met at the shore, although we had not, the initial acquaintance your mind did not even care to remember, but i don't blame you, i wasn't a person of interest back then, nor am i now for that matter.  it must has been 4 am before we went to sleep that first night, we each had a lot to get off of our chests, the room smelled like fresh cotton with a hint of lilac, i for one would not know the name of that particular scent of the next couple months, yet what an apt name it had attained.  the tv was blaring, not too loud, but we had a friends dreams to tune out, they tended to be boisterous, at least too much so for my taste.   that couch was far from comfortable, sometimes i wonder if i really am too tall for my own good for my feet always tend to hang off a few inches and my head has a tendency to meet ceilings at an inopportune angle. again, fully irrelevant to the topic at hand.  earlier in the night we had sat of the balcony, you wanted to smoke a cigarette, and i wanted to be next to you, thus i followed, and i hoped dearly that you would not mind.  i scratched your back a little bit, little did i know what i had gotten myself into in that respect.  off in the distance, between drags, i could hear the waves hitting the sound ever so faintly, it was a calm night, and i can not for the life of me recall what we discussed on those boards.  this process would repeat itself three or four times that first night, and more times than i could remember in the future.  up and down the steps, only  seven inch steps, too small for my feet, and the calculation of rise was a bit off, the last step ended up elevated at only two inches, which would make more than one awkward fall for myself. too tall, too clumsy.  i had never seen sleepless in seattle.  not in its entirety at least, nor do i think i have yet. you giggled a little, we were both a bit hesitant but our minds were occupying the same plane.  you rolled over eventually and we slept, for an hour or so. you had to got to work.  the night was growing old and i had to get up, there was dirt on my hoodie, maybe it was a sweater, i can't remember.  i'm not good at asking questions, you'll have to settle for a statement.

3.10.08

. one .

every morning, eight thirty, i pry myself from the covers, walk up the stairs barefoot and press the on button politely recessed on the coffee machine , roll a cigarette, and sit on the front stoop knowing all too well that these two bitter tastes will be the only to grace my lips for the remainder of the day, the, week, the month.  yet it's green tea this morning, decaffeinated, and i neglected to put on my socks, the black and white argyle ones.  that night i left, i kissed you, saying i love you for the final time and tasting the salty tears on your lips for an eternity that was barely long enough to speak of.  the calls would slowly become unanswered and i wished that they had been the last words that i would utter, the end to a jump start romance that had vanished as fast as it had came.  and i wonder if my need for instant gratification would be the reason you won't answer and i am forced to hear that voicemail every other sunday, you sound so happy, yet i know it was recorded well over three years prior, the voices in the background let me know at least you're not alone.  i tried to move on fast, i'd watch the late night law and order reruns with another female, but i couldn't bring myself to hold her,  i was disgusted by the thought, that was ours, so now i sit at home alone each night to continue the ritual, alone, sometimes under a blanket to pretend that i am not so.  but now i see at my age that i will probably never have that feeling again. it was the last of my young love, those butterflies in my stomache, even though they were never there. from the time we sat on those fifty pound bags of flour in the back room they were gone, it was as if we were best friends the second we met. we know that's a lie, you didn't even like me. the first time i hugged you i spun you around, you were wearing that skirt that i loved so much, it moved a bit in the breeze created through that tornado, yet when i set you on the third step you gave me a look of contempt, i knew never to do that again. still i would continue, for thirty four months, until i saw that contempt again in your eyes, they were green, in fact i like to think that they still are.  slow. stop. back to reality.  i haven't been to the shore this year, down to it as you would say.  i think it might kill me, at least a little bit on the surface.  the only memory i want is of one night, a tuesday, i came late, i believe music was involved, but as i walked in your door you came  up to me as was of the standard, and put your arms around me, if i remember correctly they hit around the third rib from the bottom and your head was buried in my chest, this was normal, but as you stood on your toes to kiss me, you looked in my eyes and said "you smell like lightning bugs".
. forward .

i saw an old friend the other day, and i will let you know that it was absolutely lovely to see her glowing face, the one person that i can legitimately say is always happy to see me, that smile is never forced, never has been, and never well be.  but this is far from the point, over her wine and my hard liquor she reminisced about the past, the blog i used to keep, how she would read it everyday, and thinking back i remember how it felt to get my feelings on (paper).  now i'm slowly realizing that it might be something that i need again. writing never hurt anyone now did it? so here i am, typing on this keyboard while my toes are at least a little bit below the temperature that is optimum remembering to just write.