Did a simple thing like taking melatonin tonight. Have to work the early shift tomorrow and need to force myself to go to sleep. If I just think about you, toned, red t-shirt, floppy-haired, fighting sleep like a baby, longing for it – I can finally smile. I like tucking you into bed. I need to do the same for myself...
Don’t know why I spent time this weekend walking down the razor edge cliff of sorting and viewing digital photos. I filled up many compact flash cards with ones of you, I know now. I was worried I would fall off the ledge and go spiraling down. I should not look at the photos, at least not yet. But like a moth to a flame, I could not resist. Lo and behold though, I realized that it didn’t hurt like I thought it would. It’s almost as though the anticipation of the pain of a life without you was worse than the actuality of it. Not that it doesn’t hurt. I miss you immensely and still don’t want to think this is forever, but I knew I would be okay when I saw this one poorly-taken photo, and it made me laugh a little. You are smiling, Yo La Tengo shirt, latch-hook project in lap, blurry like big...
When you are not with me, remember and keep me close. If you do not feel me, concentrate a little and I am there. There’s this song that I can’t stop listening to that makes 3/4 sense, and that’s good enough. It’s a divorce song, or a 3/4 divorce song for me. It says about 3/4 of what I feel about you. The truth, lies, heartbreak, and...
So I was lending this book to K the other night. It’s a book about Jackie O. Cultural studies. She and her mother saw the dresses at a museum once and she’s all about it. I met the author once right after I was of age. We were both drinking at a party in his honor. I spent the rest of the night in the corner, planning my escape route. When I gave her the book I briefly flipped through the pages an realized I had stowed photos in between the pages. I think they are photos that you saw once: Amanda in bra and panties, Robert with more hair, Amanda’s prom picture etc. I think you tried to show my mother the more interesting of the photos once. I took your picture once while you had on less clothes than that, and I believe you were un-encumbered with the whole thing. You don’t look happy, but not sad either. I don’t know. Those pictures are gone, but not in my mind. I can conjure with ease. But tonight I first got weepy, like I can do at times, about Amanda again. It wasn’t the half naked pictures. It really was that prom photo. The one of her before I knew her, but the one that looks like her about the time I met her. I guess I am getting so old. I really knew her shortly after a prom photo? When did I come to know you? Seems like ages ago now. The bra and panties was taken while on the Outer Banks. I used to take trips...
There’s too many dudes that feel the way I do about you. Are you worth all these songs? It would be easier if what Chris says is true. She thinks you love me. I ain’t that man, or am I? I know I deserve you as much as you deserve me. And that’s flipping this whole thing on its head. Take me to your friends and let’s be married. Let’s be married and be happy. And when we’re happy there’s nothing beyond us. I miss you when I sleep. Especially these...
You, see I awake, but not really. This is a dream. I have marshmallows in my ears and I am trying to roast them, but I keep singeing my sideburns. There’s a topless mermaid trying to put on a sweater, and two kids bouncing on an abandoned box spring. A dude, 6’3″ and blonde, tosses a racquetball at my head, and I violently shift and avoid being hit, only to lose the marshmallow which falls into the fire, and promptly melts. I can hear whippoorwills in the trees some half mile off. I am taking a walk in the woods with a gray figure. I climb a poplar tree, or what I believe to be a poplar tree, a 100 foot sapling. I lose my grip and start to fall again. I awake and it’s the back of your head I am looking at. Then I awake and it’s that damn down pillow...
I am still so in love with you. When you leave, I don’t want you to. When you are not with me, I want you to be. When I am away, I want to come back to you. I am ashamed.
Tornadoes tore through downtown and a few surrounding neighborhoods here in Atlanta last night. My experience with it was just of some hail falling at my house with heavy rain, a cancelled trip to the bar, and not much else so far. Apparently my office, the CNN Center, was heavily damaged, but when I checked my work email just a few minutes ago, I was told that we would be back open for business on Monday. I hope all of the news will just hold off until then. If you were planning to do something newsworthy, please wait. The upside of this is that the electricity at my house did not even blink during the storm. This in a neighborhood where the whole power grid will often fail when just one neighbor adjusts his or her thermostat in the summer. Not even a flicker during this storm and it was one of the worst I have seen in the 4 years I have lived here. And now, since it is an election year, we have to find someone to blame for the storm, and I am pointing our finger at the Georgia Governor, Sonny Perdue. If you do not recall, back in November the governor held a prayer vigil on the steps of the capitol to pray for relief from the drought that is going on in Georgia. A few days later, lo and behold, it rained. My friends joked that of course Sonny had consulted with weather.com before deciding when to plan his vigil so that he could increase the likelihood of his “rayers” being answered. It all...
At the end of the night this is what there is: you there wanting something; me here wanting you. The whole world of this galaxy in between. Maybe one day the will all amount to something. At the end of the day, or perhaps, the very next morning.
I haven’t followed that closely this whole “race-baiting” thread that’s been going back and forth between the Obama and Clinton camps that much. To be honest, it doesn’t really interest me that much other than it did not raise it’s head until now, when we are about to head into the Nevada caucuses and the SC primary, the first two primary states with substantial enough minority populations for race to be a factor. But today I read this article about good ole New York Rep. Charlie Rangel. He was once the man that I took the unpopular stance among my friends to side with over the issue of reinstating the draft. The way that issue got portrayed was that he was saying the draft is pure good and that we need it, when he was actually saying that if the sons of politicians were eligible to be conscripted, the congress might not take so lightly the decision to declare war. I understood this logic. But today I am baffled by his statements supporting Hillary Clinton’s recent MLK faux pas. (As an aside, I am not so sure that I still agree with Rangel’s idea to reintroduce the draft. Upon further consideration over the last couple of years I have realized that the rich and powerful have always figured out ways to keep their kids from having to really be in the shit – e.g. our president (W)) Whereas the subsequent fallout of the Clinton MLK/LBJ statement does seem a little overblown to me, I do believe it is validly available for critique. She was being a politician, a white...
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