Thursday, December 30, 2010

he lets me...

i want to hang my self out of the car window and just yell, just yell till it hurts my throat and i can't yell anymore. i just want to yell for everything that has ever bothered me and i want yell again as he drives around and lets me yell out the window like no one has ever yelled before. and he lets me. as he drives around the hills and valley suburbs of this city. i yell for the losses that i've had and the losses that i know i will have. i yell for what i want and what i know that i will never have. but he drives and he lets me yell for all the things that i want that i know i will never have. but this friend of mine, this good friend of mine he drives in this hilly neighborhood and he lets me yell because i can. because i can yell. i can yell at top of my lungs just a yell that no one has done. he drives around letting me hang out the window half of my body waiting to fall out. because i can. sitting on the edge of the sill. just yelling, screaming from top of my lungs. he keeps driving i'm not sure why perhaps, because he knows that i need something, something more than the norm of regular human emotion, but he lets me. lets me yell like have i've never yelled. till my throat is raw and the air itself takes my breath away but i yell... and he lets me as he drives aimlessly...

Monday, December 27, 2010

It's in a book. . .

today i was cleaning out my books, dividing them into stacks of keep, sell, and haven't read, when i stumbled across two old books i couldn't even remember reading. books that had been sitting on a dusty bookshelf in the garage. as i flipped through them a letter fell out from each of them. i laughed as i recognized the writing on one of them. it was an old love letter from a boy i had dated. the letter didn't say anything significant and it made me laugh at the words "i love you baby", scrawled across the margin. my lips curved into a small nostalgic smile as i tried to remember when exactly i had received the letter, but couldn't. i love you. such a simple phrase and yet, at that time i had no clue what it truly meant. i laughed again and moved on to the next and saw that it was a note i had passed back and forth between a friend, a friend who's hand writing i didn't recognize anymore. the note talked about the weekend and what friends had gone to vertigo's the weekend prior. thinking about that place brought to mind bright lights, music, cucarachas, and enanitos verdes. how funny a habit i had to put old notes in a book. years ago i never would have thought about finding them later. when i was done reading i put them aside not sure what to do with them. they weren't important and didn't bring to mind an exact memory. as i finished with the books the two old crumbled pieces of paper lay to the side. and i thought, i think that i'll keep this habit. letters in books. i can't remember the last time i wrote a letter or received one (which is sad in itself i must say), but the next one will go in a book. perhaps for the next "i love you baby" ...

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Ghost of Christmas Past

A year ago this would have been me. . . Ghost of Christmas Past via facebook. . . 


"Hurrah! 2 more days till Christmas!"



"Day 7, DING! Is it bad that my feet already hurt and I just put my shoes on??"



"Seriously that I'm waiting to exit the parking garage? Where are the traffic cops when you need them?"


"I swear 7 hrs ago I was just leaving work! its gonna be a great day! Happy Holidays!"

"just leaving work and gotta be back in 8 hrs! tis the "bleep'n" season!"

"busy busy busy at the mall!"


"today is the last Saturday to shop before Christmas! It's gonna be a crazy-ass day!"



"Been home 20 min. Already on #2 glass of wine."

"6 shopping days left! I wonder if people know that christmas comes on the same day every year."

"It's way too early! Damn holiday hours!!"

"So, tired feet hurt..."

"Why do people wait till the last min? 12 hrs on shift and counting..."

and on and on and on and on. .. . 


Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Something in the Way...

There is a certain crispness in the air that is contagious. It makes me want to breath deep, deep down into the small corners of my chest and taste the air that surrounds me. The anticipation grows with each breath and it isn't till I expel every inch of it that an antsy feeling builds from my toes and rushes through me...

Hello, I sometimes forget how nice you feel.

Happy? Why, yes thank you.

Really I missed you too.

What am I doing with my time?

Oh, anything that I fancy really, it's quite nice! Thank you by the way. For what you ask? Well for time. This time right now and later I suppose. But yes, this time right now, that is.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

What Kind of Shape Does the Silence Have?

The silence is an odd thing that can fill a room or fit into your hand. It can be the presence on your chest as you try to get words out that aren't yet formulated in your mind. All the while your mind is steering you towards keeping that presence on your chest, keeping that silence, because no matter how eloquently worded it still loses it's meaning. It loses its meaning and turns into that silence that lets you know that your mind was correct in directing you to refrain. So what kind of shape is it? Its ambiguity is what makes it unique. It's what makes the difference between a smile and tears. The silence is something that you can wrap yourself in, a quiet blanket of solitude that simply is, and it can leave you in a room filled with people feeling achy and alone. It's ambiguity gives it the loveliness of a doubled edged sword that you hope will always be held by the hilt and your hand doesn't slip. For me, the silence, even at its loveliest moment when I have nothing but the companionship of my own breath, is the shape of the unknown, another ambiguous being that shrinks and grows and fades and looms and taunts and loves and fucks like nothing else...

Picture Perfect

Faded photos from the late seventies are what I have as a keepsake from my mother’s second marriage. They’re pictures from the reception they had at my grandma’s house. The walls in the background are a greenish-blue with brown molding. The people in the background are all caught in mid-laughter or with cake-loaded forks about to go in their mouths. The women have big hair; one of my aunts has a huge afro that shrinks her face. The men all need a haircut, and they look hot and sweaty with their long side burns and handlebar mustaches.  I’m not sure where they got married; I’ve never asked. They look happy. My mother is wearing a white sleeveless satin wrap dress. Her face is youthful and plump. Her eyes shine even in the matte finish. She is my age in the photos. My dad is in a blue polyester suit. His smile is bright. He looks at my mother with love in his eyes. They looked happy.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Technicolor Rainbow

when i was small i used to watch old movies from the 50's. i began with black & white's and eventually got sucked into the comedic life of I Love Lucy on Nick at Nite. in fact, my family used to joke that Nick at Nite was my dad... there was something i always found so great about those movies and shows. the endings were always better than the current shows on, the clothes were better, and the whole world just seemed happier.

the first movie i saw in technicolor was The Wizard of Oz. after seeing it in black & white on previous occasions seeing it in technicolor was amazing, even for me who had grown up with color television. the technicolor was bright the color's more vibrant. i was entranced! later watching other movies in the magical technicolor i saw just how fabulous the clothes really were, how shiny and slick the mens hair looked, and how bright everyones smile were. i was in love with technicolor Rock Hudson. i was in love with the technicolor bathing suits in Gidget. well, as i'm sure it has become obvious i was in love with technicolor. 

today i was thinking about the things that make up our lives. defining moments, moments that will never be forgotten, and missed moments that leave you with regrets. i thought about some of those moments for myself and visualized myself going back and forth between black & white and technicolor, a little like the film Pleasantville, and i thought about how if i had to choose, i would rather live my life in technicolor than black & white. how do you do that though... when the people that matter, and for yourself, how do you keep from fading into black & white and how can real life compare to the technicolor brilliance?


Saturday, December 11, 2010

punch drunk something

how do you gauge a friendship? is it longevity? the moments that they have been there to pick you up off the floor when you've fallen in mess you created yourself? i'm not sure... i think that maybe its how far your willing to go for the other person. real friends i suppose have the ability to treat you like shit, treat you like family i suppose, but when it counts they're there to take a deserved punch...