If, Then, What?

2010-10-15T14:56:00.001-07:00

Words don't matter. Magic isn't real. Art is bullshit.

2010-07-02T06:56:00.000-07:00

You want that ice cream cone? Fuck you. You ain't getting it.

Photo - N
Words - S

2010-07-02T06:50:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, I would pray the rosary until I fell asleep. There are rules to the rosary that work well with an OCD kid. Plus, the rosary is crazy. You may see some jewelry, but the truth is, it's full of mystery.

Rosary comes from the Latin word rosarium, which means rose garden. It combines vocal and silent meditational prayer, consisting of repeated sequences of the Lord's Prayer followed by ten Hail Mary and a single praying of "Glory Be to the Father" and is sometimes accompanied by the Fatima Prayer. Each of these sequences is known as a decade. As you pray each decade, you meditate on one of the Mysteries of the Rosary, which are events in the lives of Jesus Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary.

There are 15 mysteries, in 3 sets, joyful sorrowful and glorious. In 2002, Pope John Paul II announced 5 new optional mysteries, the luminous mysteries, bringing the total number of mysteries to 20.

Even now, when in the car, I sometimes pray the Rosary. I'm not sure if I believe in God or anything at all, but it makes me feel better sometimes to meditate and pray.

Photo - N
Words - S

2010-07-02T06:49:00.000-07:00

I am your yard. You'll walk all over me, let your dog shit all over me and forget about me from time to time. But I'll always be here.

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2010-06-28T06:16:00.002-07:00

Sometimes, when life seems like it's getting tough, I like to take a bath in macaroni salad.

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2010-06-28T06:16:00.001-07:00

If you can just hold on long enough, you won't puke.

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2010-06-28T06:15:00.001-07:00

When I was a kid, I always wanted an all concrete yard so that I never had to cut grass again. But now that I am in the city, I appreciate the green. That said, I hate cutting grass.

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2010-06-25T10:14:00.000-07:00

This is a house of mystery. No, scratch that. A house of shenanigans.

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2010-06-25T10:13:00.001-07:00

One more draw, one more sip. I always leave some behind. I never finish a drink. Sometimes, I feel like I can't finish all they have given me. Other times, I hover at the table and want to sip again and again at my water. Just one sip. Just one more taste. All water is recycled over time, again and again. You may have drank the water that a famous gladiator once sipped. Who knows?

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2010-06-25T10:10:00.000-07:00

Most of us never realize that we are creating shrines to our lives. We only see that we are placing what's in our pockets somewhere or our loose change somewhere to collect it for eventual use. But the truth is, we are leaving our identity for others to see.

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2010-06-24T12:27:00.001-07:00

That duck has something to hide.

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2010-06-24T12:25:00.000-07:00

Why are games called such horrible names? Aggravation. Trouble. Monopoly. I guess Candy Land is a good name. It does not make you think all fucking hell is about to rain down. If there was a board game that I had my face on, it'd be Sorry.

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2010-06-24T12:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, it's simple. But it's times like that that I realize that worrying about life makes it even less simple. Why obsess over simple? Just enjoy that it is that way. These guys? If you can't get it? They don't have it. Also, if they don't have it, the other signs says that they will get it. Even if you can't find it, you don't need it, but you'll get it. See? Simple.

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2010-06-07T14:30:00.000-07:00

"I do declare," said Barbie, "we are going to a cotillion."

"Do you think the boys will ask us to dance?" inquired Barbie.

"I, for one, know that they surely will," answered Barbie.

"But my dress...will the boys notice my dress?" Barbie was in a state.

Just then, a small child bought all 4 for $3 and threw them in a shopping bag.

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2010-06-07T14:28:00.000-07:00

What route did these hard rubber tires once roll over? Did they take the kids from to some other place, far from the two lane highway that goes over hills and valleys, buried in the woods? The kids are long gone, long escaped and the cars remain, hoping to fuel the dreams of a whole new generation of drivers.

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2010-06-07T14:26:00.000-07:00

One would have to figure that if Fred an cut through rocks in the quarry that he works in, his work with firewood has to be immaculate.

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2010-04-26T08:42:00.001-07:00

Of all the art we saw on the gallery crawl, we liked this guy the most.

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2010-04-26T08:40:00.000-07:00

As much as we like art, we like beer more.

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2010-04-14T11:46:00.001-07:00

Look, just because you have Christmas in your heart all year doesn't mean you can sing "Deck the Halls" at karaoke in June.

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2010-04-14T11:44:00.002-07:00

Maybe my family album doesn't look like yours. But my family is so much cooler than yours, anyway.

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2010-04-14T11:44:00.001-07:00

The mirrors give off the fact that your eyes are so far away. Even when your body is right here.

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2010-04-13T07:58:00.001-07:00

Ironically, the invisible rabbits thought Harvey was just as crazy for seeing Elwood as we thought he was for seeing Harvey.

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2010-04-13T07:54:00.000-07:00

When shopping at a magic store, count your change carefully. It can multiply. You can lose your wallet. And sometimes, nickels just turns into birds.

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2010-04-13T07:52:00.000-07:00

What kind of puppet would you be? I'd be a wolf. You'd put me on your hand and I'd bite you. Rarrrrrrrr.

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2010-04-13T07:51:00.000-07:00

Look, if you are going to try and kill me with a machete, the least you can do is wash your face.

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2010-04-05T07:30:00.001-07:00

My voice to your heart.

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2010-04-05T07:28:00.001-07:00

Buried beneath the amber under frosty mugs, his face stared out into the barely there light. Francis, born in 1962, immortal forever, drunkard's source of wonder.

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2010-03-30T15:52:00.001-07:00

When I see those scuffs on the hardwood, I don't feel bad. They're memories made.

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2010-03-30T15:51:00.001-07:00

Luckily, that bomb got diffused, or it would have sucked going home from work.

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2010-03-30T15:49:00.001-07:00

I don't need an iPhone. Or anything else new they try and sell me. I got a cel. I got a sketchpad. I have a laptop. Just more and more and more and more of the same thing all in other forms. I got a TV. I got an X Box. Do I need to carry it in my pocket? It's just one more thing for me to lose.

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2010-03-28T13:10:00.004-07:00

My bedroom is not under white man's law. Here, you can gamble. Get booze after 2 AM. And sleep all day in my arms.

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2010-03-28T13:10:00.001-07:00

Yes, there is an airport in West Mifflin. It's fucking crazy. I mean. Really. Really crazy.

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2010-03-28T13:09:00.000-07:00

Truly, this rabbit was the Son of God.

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2010-03-28T13:08:00.000-07:00

After World War Hulk, I think we can all agree, the Hulk comic book began to really suck.

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2010-03-28T13:07:00.000-07:00

You know how embarrassing it is when you get pulled over and everyone stares at you while the cop writes you a ticket? Well, I can top your story. Trust me.

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2010-03-13T19:37:00.000-08:00

I knew there was magic here. I didn't know where. But I know this was where I had to make my home.

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2010-03-13T19:36:00.000-08:00

Clear the runway. The bunny is in the air. And that means winter is over.

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2010-03-13T19:35:00.001-08:00

It's only a plastic carrot. And it may be only a paper moon. But I still feel the way I feel. And that's always real.

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For my boy

2010-02-15T08:45:00.000-08:00

I won't remember you as you left this world. Scared, drowning, bloody, broken down. Gasping. Afraid until you saw me and then calmed.

I will remember the times you slept on my chest and licked my beard until it was clean. When I look back in years to come, I will think of all the long talks we had where you said absolutely nothing and yet heard everything so well.

You were my first cat and we went though a lot. Marriage, divorce, fights, fun, other cats, dogs, love, loss and so much more. And you were always there for me and I was always there for you.

My life will be different now. It seems like such a small thing to an outsider. But last night, I kept catching glimmers of you. Places you should have been. And I know now, all your pain is gone. You don't need to take drugs to stay alive and you don't have me grabbing your fur to check on you all the time and you don't have that crazy orange cat chasing you all over hell.

You made my life better, little cat. I can't say it any plainer. And I can't explain it any better. I love you.

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2010-02-10T12:23:00.000-08:00

I wonder how my house sees the snow. Does it hate the feel? Or does it see it as a blanket to wear through the dark chill? Does it look forward to dew and the rays of the sun kissing its shingles? Because I sure do. Oh, Lord, I do.

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2010-02-10T12:22:00.000-08:00

Memo to gypsies: This weather thing is really putting a crimp in our style.

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2010-02-10T12:21:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wonder if I leave you a note in the frost, will the molecules carry across the valley? Will they find their way into the air and remember the intent and carve themselves across your window? And when you do dishes, will you look out and see the letters form before your eyes and laugh at the silliness that is inside my head?

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2010-02-10T12:20:00.000-08:00

The snow is not as inviting as a warm lap.

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2010-02-10T12:17:00.000-08:00

The snow was between my tires like the tracks in a kid car themepark ride. But this ride was much more thrilling. I slid, I slode, I slipped. The ground was armored and I found each chink with my tire. Bump bump bump. Home is far away but there's a warm dog there.

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2010-02-10T12:14:00.000-08:00

i've been crazy for a long time. barely hanging on, but still hanging none the less. sometimes i watch the sand slip through my fingers. instead of scrambling to slow the grains, i just watch them drop and think about the waythey feels against my skin. i've been crazy a long time. weaving in and out of good and bad like a drunkard but its with a crisp sobriety that i make the willing decision not to make a decision. I let time wash over me like a river rock. I've been crazy a long time, but one day i will be smooth.

Words - N
Photo - N

2010-01-25T09:01:00.000-08:00

Hey, 16 year old me. It's me again. The washed up 37 year old version of yourself. I would like to give you some advice. Do a whole bunch of drugs. Drink more. Get out of the house. That person you're pining for is not worth it. Trust me, I can see this all with the clarity of someone who honestly doesn't want to wake up in the morning any more. And it all started with you. You, 16, wishing for something and watching too many John Hughes movies. Stop watching so much TV. Throw away your comic books. Take down all your stupid posters and cut your fucking hair. Maybe then we'll both have a chance. Eh, who the fuck am I kidding? You can't hear me. I'm sure right now that the 57 year old me is trying to send the same message to the 37 year old me, but then again, I don't see myself ever being 57. Then again, I thought I'd be dead by the time I was 23. And I sure wished I was dead by the time I was 30. So what the fuck do I know, being 37? I've learned absolutely nothing at all. So I have nothing to teach to you at all.

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2010-01-25T08:57:00.000-08:00

I wish there was some exorcism I could perform. Some dramatic undo that will take all of this away. Some other world that I could open a door to, somewhere that I could escape from the fog that surrounds me. I can't even escape my world when I dream, as I toss fitfully between glimpses into worlds that don't have any business existing.

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2010-01-25T08:53:00.000-08:00

I have a million words but there are only two that I really want to say. That's a lie. I have like a million words that I'd like to say but only three that I'd really want to say. But that's the problem with words. No matter how many you have, they will never change your world.

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2010-01-03T15:22:00.000-08:00

Grilling in the winter is the only way to cook. Because when food is hot, you can just take it off the grill and roll it in snow and make it cool down. I realize many of you will find this ridiculous, but this is how I live my life.

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2010-01-03T15:21:00.001-08:00

I was three feet away but I may as well have been three miles. It was all I could do to keep making blood flow to my heart and brain and legs and arms and finish why I was there. And then I drove home the wrong way.

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2010-01-03T15:20:00.001-08:00

The grass is under a layer of ice and snow, achievable only through my dog's insistent nose borrowing. He will find the green under the gray. Beauty remains even if we can't find it.

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2009-12-28T22:32:00.001-08:00

The sky was alive in the night. It was purple and pink and pulsed. I told my scientific mind to be quiet, the mind that knew it was just the snow reflecting light back up into the heavens. Sometimes, I look out across the city or out at the stars and try and reach out to your mind. And my scientific mind again says that stars are long dead and we're just seeing the fleeting embers as the light finally makes it back to our world. I don't like to think that even if I know it's true. I prefer to believe that we all sleep under a blanket of pure love and light and that the glow in the dark stars in my room are as real as the ones in the heaven. And if I listen loud enough, even in the coldest of winter I can hear the love songs of the cicada, or, even better, the gentle sound of you asleep.

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2009-11-18T11:29:00.001-08:00

Her siren songs sang, "Low prices and moonpies."

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2009-11-18T11:27:00.000-08:00

You are sweetness and light. You are the stars and moon in the sky. You are the purple in the horizon before the sun sets. You are the morning dew and the fog that rolls through the night. You are the smile I see when I look in the mirror.

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2009-11-18T11:25:00.000-08:00

No fan used as a fence can stop a dog like this.

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2009-11-09T13:10:00.000-08:00

Our lives are fiction of our own creations that we allow other characters to inhabit. We see ourselves as the hero, of course, so we always search for the archetypes that can live within our story. You write your own tale. Do you want it to be an adventure? A romance? A tragedy? Or can it be everything? Can life be more than the cookie cutter hero's journey and become something where beauty and art lies in every nook and cranny and every single moment is exactly what and where you want it to be? We can't be perfect, but we can make a perfect love, someone once said. A more perfect world? It starts with you and me. I love life. I love where it is. But I know that it can be more. And I'd rather have someone be more than a character in my book. I'd rather they were my partner in crime. Maybe all our ideas of what we really want are overinflated, pushed on us by teen movies and media that isn't real. The only pop culture is the one we invent. Do you want to be a pirate? Or do you want to be a ninja? Me? I'd rather be a gypsy. Who wants to join me?

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THIRD ANNUAL CHICKEN WEEK DAY 5

2009-10-16T18:26:00.001-07:00

Yes, sometimes, even chicken can be gross. As chicken week ends, let us remember back fondly on the frolic and frivolty we had. Ah, chicken week. We hardly knew you. Cue the sad music, please.

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THIRD ANNUAL CHICKEN WEEK DAY 4

2009-10-15T11:49:00.001-07:00

To me, a chicken gyro seems to be an anomaly. It just doesn't feel right. You want a gyro for the gyro meat. You want chicken for chicken. You don't want gyro sauce on chicken. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I think I will spend more time thinking about chickens and gyros today that I will on anything else.

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THIRD ANNUAL CHICKEN WEEK DAY 3

2009-10-14T13:50:00.000-07:00

Ideas for new wings:

Buffalo Chicken Dip Covered Buffalo Chicken Wings
Pierogie Wings
Pepperoni Pizza Wings
Nerds Encrusted Wings with Pixie Stick dipping sauce
Bacon Wrapped Bacon Dressing Wings dusted with Bacon Salt
Hummus Wings
Cocoa Pebbles Baked Wings
Wings stuffed with Wings
Wings, Wings, Wings
Wings 2: This Time The Wings Have Become Very Personal
Tim Daly flavored Wings (he was on Wings)

Obviously, we love wings.

Photo - N
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THIRD ANNUAL CHICKEN WEEK DAY 2

2009-10-13T11:21:00.000-07:00

There is no food more perfect than chicken and cheese in its liquid form. Nothing. No how.

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THIRD ANNUAL CHICKEN WEEK DAY 1

2009-10-12T07:59:00.000-07:00

This is the third ever chicken week. A love of chicken. Talking about it. Writing about it. Taking pictures of it. Eating it. Yes, we love us some chicken. Also, it's a great time to mention our new food blog: beerbaconcandy.wordpress.com

What better way to start chicken week than with the egg? A deviled egg. Hard boiled. The bastard of the egg world. We've been hearing a lot about Kool Aid eggs, too. Maybe, just maybe, if we ever planned things out, we would have made some of those to enjoy over chicken week. But it's too late. That said, we will be enjoying plenty of wings and chicken based dishes over the next few days. And sharing the fun with you.

As long as those deviled eggs don't fuck with us!

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2009-10-06T16:00:00.000-07:00

I cannot live in the tear-filled sea. And you can never reside in the moonlit sky. But I wish there was somewhere in between.

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2009-09-29T07:15:00.000-07:00

The bonds that hold us are not as definite as we make them think. If we just closed our eyes, we'd float away from this existence into the other places that exist. Every possibility is real on some strip of reality that we can only sense when we are at our drunkest. The dream before you wake up of giant swings is more real than the times where you grudgingly punch a clock. The words in my head are more real than the ones that make the page. The images in your head are more perfect than anything than you can click a shutter upon. Someday, it's all going to come true. Someday, the world will be full of glitter instead of asphalt. You just need to realize that dreams mean more than reality. The world wants to punch this into your face. The world wants you to give up on neon. The world doesn't like when you dance in the grocery store for no reason.

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2009-09-29T07:12:00.001-07:00

When I was a kid, I wandered into the cornfields for hours. It may have been minutes. Your sense of time is different when you are a kid because you are 6, and sometimes, as an adult, I forget that 2005 was 4 years ago. So it may have been minutes. I wandered and wandered, and I screamed and screamed, and I probably wandered some more. But the truth is, I was only a few houses over and the nice lady that lived in that house walked me back to the party and I was fine. But to be lost and untethered and to not where you are going, yeah, once you do enough of that, you don't scream and cry anymore. You just get used to being lost so that if you've never found it doesn't matter because the feeling of being lost is not lost on you.

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Happy birthday, N!

2009-09-28T10:44:00.000-07:00

We are setting sail for adventure. Sure, we don't have a boat. We got a car. It's not really great on gas mileage. And sometimes, stuff breaks. I think it needs new shocks. Oh, yeah, and the front door? Well, about that front door. It doesn't open. So you need to Luke Duke it in. That shit will get old after ten stops. Perhaps you will ride like Miss Daisy instead. But yes. Oh yes. Adventure. In a boat. I mean, car. You know. Euphemism. How come there are so many rap songs about trains? Like, c'mon ride that train. And cars. You remind me of my Jeep. What the fuck was that song about, anyways? "You remind me of my jeep, I wanna ride it. Something like my sound, I wanna pump it. Girl you look just like my cars, I wanna wax it." R Kelly. The dude has problems. Man, we're getting all sidetracked. If we sit on this street talking, and we can talk all day, we'll never get to that adventure that we need to be getting out on. So let's get to adventuring! Who's with me?

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2009-09-28T10:38:00.000-07:00

Some days, it feels like the bucket can't be escaped. Like the walls are too slippery and that the future only has one way out. But other days? Other days a simple walk in the sun and an extra ten minutes at lunch can make you see that the world has more than one option. Even if you are a fish. In a tiny bucket. Well, if that's you, you can't walk. But wow! You can read!

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2009-09-21T15:59:00.000-07:00

This is the time for pastel snow to flutter into the sky. And the leaves are all on fire and the night crawls across the valley with small fingers rubbing legs together to make a certain song that only particular ears have gained the full sense to make sense of.

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2009-09-21T15:58:00.000-07:00

This is a city of bridges but the saddest truth is that we're all very, very far apart from one another.

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2009-09-21T15:57:00.000-07:00

Come on, baby, do the cha cha twist.
Don't dance like a raver.
What the fuck was up with that shit?

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2009-09-21T15:56:00.000-07:00

The bricks themselves? Racist bastards.

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2009-06-26T13:11:00.000-07:00

The words just aren't there. They're fake. Automatic. Not anything I want to say. More often than not, I'll just tear myself to pieces before I ever say how I really feel. I'm waiting for something amazing to happen or to get hit by a bus. Or maybe both.

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2009-06-26T13:09:00.000-07:00

The stands are all over town and the air is still and waiting for fire and smoke, but everyone decided to stay inside.

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2009-06-10T11:47:00.001-07:00

This little kid used to lie in bed at night and round off infinity. He did it because he knew that in 12 hours, he'd be getting punched and kicked and thrown to the ground and all he wanted to do was cry, but he'd be damned if he'd let those fuckers see him cry. He'd just pretend. He was a wrestler, he was an actor, he was a super hero. He wasn't him. And he grew up and he never really stopped pretending, always letting an exaggeration get bigger and bigger. It was the only way he knew to get by, to be honest. Because he learned how to stare a fist right in his face and how to roll with it and how to fall the right way and how to laugh about it. Pain became really the only person who never let him down.

Sometimes, the little kid thought aliens were coming. This frightened him to the point where he could not sleep. He'd wake up his whole family screaming and shaking. But the truth was, he subverted his fears. He worried about nuclear war. Or the sun going cold. He stopped caring about his face being pushed into asphalt. It all became a game. So when he got old, the fact that his body was nothing but a bag that held his brain was not lost on him. He started finding new and better ways to tear it apart, all because, well, it was all he knew.

The boy who couldn't say how he felt became the man who didn't want anyone to know. And there have not really been all that many people who have seen him cry. He despises that. He hates when people get to know him. He doesn't even tell people his birthday. Because at the heart of it all, he wanted love but figured that if he told anyone, they'd just kick him in the teeth again. So he just got to liking it.

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2009-06-10T11:46:00.000-07:00

Even a dog covered in poop is much better than most people. That's my opinion, anyway.

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2009-06-10T11:42:00.000-07:00

They painted the day, really, so that the colors took on brushstrokes and sweeps. You could just lie back and be happy.

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2009-06-10T11:40:00.001-07:00

Most people only use Polaroids for pornography now. Well, except her. She uses hers to take pictures of roadkill.

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2009-06-10T11:37:00.002-07:00

You can see the fireworks from the other side of town. They don't look as bright or as pretty or make you feel as patriotic or special inside. You just see the faint glimmers through the treetops and the distant echo of their booming thunder. You don't feel the brightness flash in your face or smell the cordite. You just sit and watch and wait for the applause but it never comes.

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2009-06-10T11:37:00.001-07:00

Times have gotten so tough, he went back on his word. He'd start cutting his own grass again. And man, what a tragedy.

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2009-06-10T11:35:00.000-07:00

I used to worry about dying and now I look forward to it. I wonder how it will happen, when it will happen. My lack of survival instinct makes this a daily to do list item. Today, possibly die. Maybe that's fatalistic. Probably. Yeah, it's totally fatalistic.

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2009-06-10T11:33:00.000-07:00

My burger went well with the boom boom boom of the lanes crashing above. All night was a wet dull thud. I imagine that on Saturdays, there's a lot of dancing. The bass is accentuated by the slam crash bang up above.

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Words - S

2009-05-15T14:37:00.000-07:00

I don't want to leave a mess behind. I don't want anyone to clean me up. I don't want to be a smear or a streak or matter on the windshield. I just want to be gone.

Photo - S
Words - S

2009-05-15T14:31:00.000-07:00

This building is failure.
This road is failure.
This evening is failure.

I drive past and I try and avoid and I always end up back here.

I made the wrong choice and chose the wrong path and here I am.

I have ended back here.

I hate this neon. I hate this storefront. I hate this fucking road.

Photo - S
Words - S

2009-05-01T16:39:00.000-07:00

In this week, there have been many talks.

Of these talks, I can name around a hundred.

Out of the hundred, I'd say one or two of these talks was worth having.

I have to have another one of these talks tomorrow.

And I fear I will have to have at least one or two hard talks soon enough.

I would like to not talk to anyone, ever, about anything.

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2009-05-01T16:38:00.000-07:00

It's funny to be that guy, when I was that guy, now I'm that guy somewhere else. I don't want to be any guy. I just want to sleep.

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2009-05-01T16:36:00.000-07:00

I woke up and someone was lying in my bed. I thought it was me, but then I realized that I had not fallen asleep as much as I'd woken up stuck between the many realities that I have to keep track of. Fuck. I hate when this happens.

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2009-05-01T16:29:00.000-07:00

My dog sits without a leash on the cool porch and we watch cars go by. He hates buses. I wonder why sometimes. I think a bus killed his dad. Me, I sit here with a laptop and an iced tea and wonder what the weekend will hold for me. I hope it holds absolutely nothing. A huge chunk of a lack of decision making. I have made enough decisions this week to choke a normal man. I have given up on people. I have almost lost the place that I live in and still could. I realized that I made a mistake professionally that I am going to have to do my best to kiss ass, sell out and suck dick to survive so that I can fulfill my promise of being an absolute bum and leaving this shithole town and everyone in it behind in 2 years. So really, when you think about part b and part c, I don't know why I was so upset about the house, in retrospect. I mean, if your dream is to be Dr. David Bruce Banner without the turning green and killing people part, and only the part where you, you know, wander the Americas and have adventures and change people's lives, you know, that part, having a house seems to be pretty much a hold-you-back from this dream. But you know, I'm a fucking contradiction. So I sit in meetings and dream about keeping my little $85,000 house and at night, I throw up and go to bed as soon as I get home and try and do enough stuff so that my stomach is a little bit better and I try and make art and I try and stick to my plan, because I swear to fucking God, I will never be caught unawares without a plan of my own ever again. And that brings us all to now, dear reader. The slowly growing dusk of a Friday night, completely sure of my aloneness, save for a screaming cat who is begging to be outside and a dog sleeping on the porch and this iced tea that I paid to fucking much for and the true knowledge that the only person you can trust is the one inside your head (and even that dude, they're fucking crazy, too, keep an eye on them). It's a precarious place to be. Both happy to be free for a bit, sad that freedom doesn't last forever and certain that somewhere, somehow, the life that you always wanted could happen at any minute, but nah, you're too fucking cynical for that. They say all writers are liars. I say all writers are fucking drunks. I can prove that hypothesis if you'd like to buy me a drink.

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2009-05-01T16:21:00.001-07:00

I'd leave here, but no city will make me happy. I'd say that I'd be someone brand new once my feet were off the plane. I'd change my name, cut my hair, wear contacts and a tie, lose a bunch of weight, shave off my beard and never answer to the name Sam again but everything eventually would end up just like it is now, the same story, a new sequel, told by a lesser cast. That's life. A continual serial tale told the same time over and over again until you either get sick of it and shoot yourself in the fucking head or die. Well, that's a lie. You die both ways. There should maybe be another way. Maybe there is. Maybe my life is a continual battle against suicide and death. Maybe it'd be easier if that was just one enemy, you know? It's hard enough to fucking battle death. We don't need to go adding deaths derivative sidekick henchmen suicide to the mix while we are at it. Jesus, the odds against death are like, you know, 1 to 1, so it seems. I can logically win any bet where I say, I bet I die. I guess suicide isn't as tough as death, because I could bet that I won't kill myself and logically if I keep my shit together (but at what cost haw haw haw) then I will win that bet. Again, I win both ways, because if I die or kill myself, I will be dead and unable to pay you. And if we had a deal and I have to pay you posthumously from what I can only imagine is a Swiss bank account, then I will be dead and unable to enjoy material possessions, so the joke is on you, person still alive, stuck in your morality-less woe is me, oh look, a dead Sam's money made me happy. Well, I'm dead. And you won't get to read weird ass shit like this any more. You won your bet, but like I said before, at what cost? At this point, I will jump from the darkest part of your house, this all having been a practical joke that I've played on you. But then you fall down the steps and die, and it's my fault, and I feel so bad that I kill myself. And then you jump up and laugh and say, haw haw haw that was just a dummy, I have been alive all along. Now I have your money all over again! And my ghost will scream NOOOOOO! as the camera pulls back and yes, finally, folks, the fucking joke is on me.

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all of life's treasures, remind me that houses are just made of wood

2009-03-23T10:25:00.001-07:00

There was a small sliver of a house that never existed that I chiseled out with my keys and gave away once, long ago. I found it again, it was in a pile of dust and dirt and destined for the refill litter bin with the poetry filled empty coke cans. It never was, so it didn't matter, not to anyone, except me, but I'm good at rewriting continuity within my own mind.

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2009-03-23T08:15:00.000-07:00

I can remember a much more innocent time when all I needed to make me happy was a video game. Bills, student loans, women, job woes...I knew none of this. All I knew was the shiny quarter sliding down the slot and the cathode tube embracing me. I can remember so much of that era...arcades come and gone, games that are forgotten (or best forgotten) and Pac-Man. For a few years, everybody loved Pac-Man. It was a simple game compared to the HALO that we have now. Who can imagine being so captivated by a moving mouth eating pellets and being chased and chasing ghosts?

Ellwood City, my hometown, had one upscale arcade and three dirty, smelly dens of ill repute that were the Mos Eisley of my small origins.They were the bridge arcade, which basically sat on the 5th Street Bridge, where dope kids and burnouts swung their drunken legs over the bridge. Of course, my dad was the art teacher, so all of these kids loved my father. So, I was treated quite nicely by this rough crowd and even allowed on the machines that they monopolized. The second was the poolhall, buried in a basement and I went there once, with my grandfather, who was about the only member of my family who was hardassed enough to take me along. I begged for years until he gave in and took me and to tell the truth, it wasn't what it made out to be. It was kind of boring. The third was the Newsstand, which is the only arcade left in my depressing birthplace. And it was there, after a night of fine dining with my parents at the Gilded Cage, in 1982, that I first saw her.

Ms. Pac-Man. Now, how cool was that? My mom took me to arcades all the time, never playing, but now she was hooked. I remember the excitement when Atari released Pac-man for the famous Atari VCS (or 2600 or Sears Telegame). With baited breath, we laid down our $50 and sat in a restaurant in little Rochester, PA called the Hilltop, infused with red light and dreaming of what was to come. We hurried home as fast as we could. We all agreed to do our homework and chores and then reconvene to play Pac-Man until bedtime. I couldn't wait...to see the little yellow mouth cut across my screen, to beat those ghosts, to use my patterns to beat the game in the comfort of my own home.

We plugged it in and we realized the sad truth. Pac-Man was ruddy brown, the sounds were wrong and everything was horizontal where it should be vertical. We tried to justify the game. We tried to wish it better. We wished that it was the real thing when it was painfully obvious how poor it was. We convinced ourselves that it wasn't really all that bad.

Looking back, I realize that this was the first time I had ever been truly disappointed. Whatever childish innocence I had was thrown to the dogs and now, I was full of cynicism. I wish I had never bought that fucking game.

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2009-03-21T18:39:00.000-07:00

I waited and waited for the words to come and they didn't. I sat there faced with the blank screen and I wanted to share my thoughts guerilla love style and there is nothing inside that has anything left to say. Because being the words is a waste of time.

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2009-03-12T06:26:00.000-07:00

1,513 people died on the Titanic. But yet, you can now win tickets that you can use to win stuffed animals now, thanks to this handy dandy arcade machine. I hope that I win the pink monkey.

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2009-03-12T06:20:00.001-07:00

Sweat spins in arcs and water sprays over the crowd, cascading over the stage. Clap clap clap handclap thump thump everybody jump and spin. I see the faces of the people as they emerge from throwing their clammy bodies at one another, a mix of exhaustion and pure, pure joy. They recover and shove their way back, but it's not shoving, because everyone just moves with a smile and they're back, upside down, rightside up and the drums get hit and the bass fills the cold air with warmth and the guitars get beaten up and I close my eyes, surrounded and jostled and pushed, and I smile and wish I could raise up this feeling high up above the city and send it to you.

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2009-03-10T11:08:00.000-07:00

The best words that I write are in the letters that I do not send. The most truth is in what I have never told you. My draft box is filled with what I really should say. Instead, my lips says words that I wish they wouldn't and I offer things that I wish I could take back.

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2009-03-10T11:03:00.000-07:00

This world conspires to show you the things that you never want to see. It will present them in full high definition, placed before your eyes in a way that you cannot look away and the light that once lit eyes will not ever be reflected in your own. Bulb by bulb, these things will extinguish and you will slowly run, then walk, then crawl. There are times when it feels like you can't even lift you own head and you are pushed down further and further, all in vain against the world's gravity, until it feels like you want to be here on your knees, eye wetting your face and your mouth open to drink full the moisture and you'll scream and no sound will come out. It feels like you can't even walk another step, but the truth is, you're a fucking fool and you have always played your fucking role so fucking well.

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2009-02-13T11:48:00.000-08:00

He kept track of the mile markers where his heart got broken. There were times that it felt like the bottom dropped out and he couldn't drive any longer. And probably places where he should have just kept his mouth shut. But he kept on and on, and slowly his hands grew numb to the wheel, and he drove his car right off that mountain.

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2009-02-13T11:46:00.000-08:00

No jacket fits me. I try them on and none of them feel like a jacket I could spend time with. I tried all winter to find the right jacket and ended up being happier being cold than having to find the perfect fit.

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2009-02-13T11:39:00.000-08:00

I dream of the day when I don't have a destination or anywhere to be. When I don't have to tell anyone where I am or when I'll finally be home, because I don't have a home. I will sleep wherever I lay my head and that will be enough. I will go days without talking to anyone and nights without seeing another face. I will walk through the deserted amusement parks of my dreams and hold my hands against rusting girders and dilapidated merry-go-rounds and giant swings high above the earth and only see the frolic of the past while I move forward, never needing anything other than this road, other than this drive that never ends. I will haunt the highways and byways, not here and not there. I'll live on corndogs and frozen Cokes and trucker speed, blasting the radio and leaning back. I can't wait to be done with this world.

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2009-02-02T16:26:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I sit there and realize there are places I am never going to wind up in. Sometimes, those places can overtake me. Sometimes they can break my heart. Sometimes, I can just drive past. Sometimes, I just want to keep driving and stop dreaming.

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2009-02-02T16:25:00.001-08:00

I gave up part of me, I closed it off, I killed it off, I chopped off its head, I stepped it out, I threw it away, I gave it away, I let someone take it, I just give up.

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I became them all the night you quit counting on me

2009-02-02T16:20:00.000-08:00

"tonight when i am rolling over the earth's most lonesome ground
i will think of all the ways next time i will try not to let you down"

I roll down my windows and hold my phone out the window.
I click and hope that I can deliver the image that is in my heart.
A city of bridges and ice and sleet with a rollercoaster on the edges of it all.

It doesn't matter where I drive after this.
I have captured the feeling.

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