A dash of apathy goes a long way.

August 1, 2010

So you say want the best
For what’s lingering on us both
And I want you to be right in everything you say

But what it boils down to
When it’s all said and done
Is that I’m a greedy little fuck
Looking out for number one

And nothing that you say
Is gonna change the things I do
Caring is not my business anymore

Break your habits on your own
Be the worst of all your fears
I’m done caring where you’re at
And striving to improve you

Grandfather clock for our thoughts
Wasted resources in the end
I’m tired of your sob stories
Of where you should have been

No one’s buying anything from your garage sale

Harsh tongues in a sea of terry cloth

Get your shit together
Get your shit together

We’re all hopeless in the end
Just drop anchor
I’ll swim from here on out

Black Holes and Revelations; or Nostalgia and Nausea and the Correlation Thereof

March 21, 2010

We have all heard the saying about people being either a boulder or pebble in the path of the river that represents our lives. Some of these people have little or no effect on the outcome or direction we move in. However, some inexplicably alter the course of our lives.

After looking at some old photographs earlier, I realized how much one of the people in the picture had meant to me and how my life had drastically and completely changed by meeting her. A chance meeting at that, in the lobby of a hotel two states away from where she lived and a 3 hour drive from my own home. And I owe much of who I am to the person that she was then.

She actually inspired me to go to college, helped open my mind to many social issues, and even got me involved in community service. Even if 2 out of the 3 of those things has gone back to how they were before meeting her, the impact they made and the lessons I learned are still at the core of my being.

Now, I haven’t physically spoken to this person in 2-3 years. In that time, I have communicated with them once. But, as stated before, the person she helped shape me into is still here, even if she isn’t.

So, the moral of this? Times are a-changin’ and so are people. Don’t hold on to the past longer than it lasts, but treasure what you learned forever.

Waiting by the phone with my eyes on the door.

February 23, 2010

When I get the signal, I am gone.

I Predict a Riot

February 9, 2010

I am starting to get that feeling of indecision. Like going somewhere you have been a million times before, but for some reason can’t remember where to make a turn or to keep going straight. Straight is easy. But, it might dead end. So, I sit here again, 7 hours alone at the end of the night. Not a soul to share it with, only the heartache of the people whose words I borrow.

Someone’s hit cruise control on my brain. The only problem is, it’s doing 90 in a 30 and the brake lines were cut years ago. I anticipate three things. Someone to stop me, a brilliant crash, or a near miss, after which I peel out at the same speed laughing maniacally. I am invincible. I am Superman. I am a liar, but not a cheat. I am a fucking lunatic.

Jenny’s holding tight tonight, and I am still down at the crossroads. Sweet Jane, save me if you please.

Omerta is important, but so is expression.

Reminders of Something Unachieved

February 1, 2010

The dull empty ache of nostalgia. It creeps across my stomach like slowly melting ice cubes. I stare through the fence at a playground that is no longer there. Stones thrown, swings passing each other in syncopated rhythm. The clouds move and a blood red sun momentarily blinds me. I walk futher down the fence.

An apartment. Not mine. Lavishly furnished and larger than one person needs. Silhouettes of culture pass through my field of vision. A scent of cigarettes and seafood, only chemical. Accents and colours, physical and verbal. Dreams made almost real. Late nights, strong drinks, and pretty women. Down the fence.

Here, there is only darkness. Nothing is written. Nothing yet. I hope to fill it with colour. But for now, only black.

Are we Human, or are we Dancer?

January 14, 2010

The answer is neither. To quote Freddie Mercury: “In each and every soul lies a man. Very soon he’ll deceive and discover.” This is an infallible truth. No one is perfect. To put it into terms I have thought about a million times, every person is built of two souls.

In Hinduism, the god Shiva has two main aspects. Creation and destruction. We hold both of these inside us. Deception and discovery are the essences of creation and destruction. Discovery of new ideas leads to the creation of applications for these ideas. Processes of building new things, be they physical, spiritual, emotional. Deception is the destruction of the truths discovered. The tearing down of all these ideas.

The meaning of life, in my opinion, is to find the balance between these things. To walk the line between the gods of Creation and Destruction. Order and Chaos. We are not angels or demons. We move among the two, superior that we can fall and climb back on the tightrope that carries us to the end of our lives. We have to create to progress knowledge and for the well being of ourselves and those we love. We destroy the superfluous, and sometimes the important to make room for growth. Sometimes, we go too far in our creation, though. Try and move beyond what we should. Play God (different from the gods, mind you), try and decide what is best for everyone. And we all know, I am sure, what comes from a life of destruction.

And through the balance of these things we find life and perfection. Even if the perfection is fabricated to create our own happiness. To finish Mercury’s line, “but even to the end of his life, he’ll bring a little love”.

This one’s called “Spread Your Wings”

January 13, 2010

    Another misty mountain morning. My headlights reflect back off of the clouds surrounding my beige Saturn as it cuts through the fog like an ice breaker ship through…well….ice. I light another cigarette and take in the sharp mentholated breath of cancer that will hopefully take me at a late age. With my family’s record, though, not much chance of that.
    My mind begins to drift as I follow the familiar roads to lead me to my more than modest abode. As I approach the driveway I begin to wonder if maybe I should just keep going, and by the time I have decided that sleep may be in order, it’s too late. Oh, well. Nothing is in that place but booze, more tobacco, worthless memories, and a hard, lumpy mattress.

    Silence surrounds me as I continue on my adventure. No sound but the hum of the engine and the occasional smack of a large bug against the windshield. A left turn here, a right turn there…I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t care. As far from where I came from as possible, I suppose. I start to think again about what happened and how. Physical contact of the most intimate kind. Soft words spoken in a vacuum of a room. A place that sucked every ounce of life out of me by the end of the night. Fuck letting your heart guide you.
    Diarrhea of the mouth. That’s all it causes. If you don’t use your brain before you speak, it gets easy to ramble and say what you mean at the worst time. 3 words from me. 2 from her. And I’ll be damned if we didn’t both mean what we said.
    “SHIT!” I jump at the sound of my own voice, and my finger throbs as I drop my cigarette. I realize it has burned all the way down to the filter. I hadn’t even taken a drag since I lit it…I don’t think. Funny how we forget things like that when we are lost in thought. I reach down to pick up the smoldering filter before too much damage is done to the carpet of my vehicle, and place my fingers strategically on the remainder of the cherry. “FUCK!” I drop it again, and in an attempt to remove my hand from the heat, smack it against the horn. Someone in the house I am passing looks out the window. I wave and pretend that I know them, then stomp out the embers instead of risking another burn. “I guess today just isn’t my day.”

    As the sun continues its despised ascension into the cradle of blue, more thoughts come my way. Radio. It was an instantaneous decision, driven by a need to force out these thoughts and focus on my surroundings. A familiar twang sounds, and I try to place the song. By the time I realize what is playing, it is too late to stop the sudden flood of emotion. “I said I love you like the stars above, I love you ’til I die”. Go to hell, Mark Knopfler.
    It’s almost too much to bear. No…wait…it is too much, I realize, as tears begin to stream down my face. I can’t help it. Don’t judge me. I pull over until my fit subsides. By this time, I realize I’m on the highway. Don’t even remember getting on it. Oh, well. May as well go with the flow. On the road, now. Maybe I can find some solace in a trip. But where to? Screw it. My brain will lead me.

Being unemployed has its advantages. I have no place to report my whereabouts to, and I don’t have to worry about losing my job. The only real downside is a lack of steady income. That’s alright, though. I received a large out of court settlement from a just as large local factory. My grandmother died as a result of the hazardous materials my grandfather brought home every day on his work clothes. Ironically, after 50 years in that factory, he died of congestive heart failure completely unrelated to his workplace hazards.

So, I have a few hundred Ks in the bank. Of course, I am not one to spend money too frivolously, thus leaving me in a fairly dumpy place and too much time to drink and smoke myself into oblivion. It’s amazing how you can live off of a steady diet of whiskey, cigarettes, and hot dogs. It gets old, but it saves money for more important things. I couldn’t tell you what those things are, but I keep on telling myself I’ll put it to good use one day. I never will.

A glance at the dashboard clock and a road sign tell me I have been driving around three hours. 3 hours to the west of my home. 3 hours from my troubles. Damn, that feels good. I see a city rising on the skyline. The only one this large in this part of the state. Capital of my province and home to sin, political corruption, and terrible karaoke. God bless America.

It’s late, it’s late, it’s late- but not too late…

January 13, 2010

I should have been asleep an hour and a half ago. Old habits die hard, I suppose, and nearly 7 months of a single schedule is a little difficult to break. Anyway, this is, obviously, my first post. An introductory sort of thing.

I hope that you will find something interesting or learn something from the stories, true or fictional, that I put here. Some will be obvious, others not so much. There will be no information on whether it actually happened or not. Unless it is in the form of a comic script or something obvious like that.

That being said, I hope you all have a wonderful whatever time of day it is when you read this.

-C