.retteL A

.uoy evol I taht wonk esaelp tub ,siht ees t'now lybaborp uoY
.uoy evol t'ndid I fi yrt t'ndluow I
.gniyrt yllaer ,yllaer m'I dnA
.evah reve I naht eroM
.uoy truh t'now I
.hcum os uoy evol I

(you are) everywhere

van morrison sings me a song
on a pre-made playlist
semi predictable mixes
are sometimes all i can offer
hoping their words
can express my thoughts
i meant all the words they sang you
too many
(items
tastes
songs
movies
etc.)
remind me of you
they're everywhere
so instead of blocking and hiding
i embrace a bittersweet feeling
in hopes to reinstate
the recently lost rush
of a late night phone call
or an early good morning text
you're present through song
and candid photo's
but
my hand is still cold
when i walk to my car alone

(Je peux seulement prier votre coeur rembobinera au mien.)

i feel you in the air
not a feeling easy to dismiss
even if i wanted to.

Some Newer Thoughts.

Here are some 2 am thoughts.

I think a good portion of life is spent on the process of waiting. I realized this in the passed few weeks. I have to wake up early to go to a bus stop to wait for a bus. I then wait to arrive to the city. Then I wait for the shuttle to grand central. Then I wait for the doors to open on the train. Then I wait for the next train. Then I wait for my class to start. Then I wait for my class to end. Then I wait for my day to end. Then I wait for sleep. We're mostly always waiting to be done with something. Very rarely are we not. So recently I've tried not waiting.

A few months ago, I was in Boston visiting some friends. We were walking around a park on a very nice Autumn day, discussing past parties and the new Jay-Z album among other things. We came across a group of kids, probably 1st or 2nd grade, doing something beautiful. They were fitting the ideal stereotype of kids playing in a park. They were literally just running around in circles and laughing so loud and pure. They had no apparent task. They weren't even playing tag. They were completely in the moment of nothing, and embracing that nothing, that no goal, to something so fulfilling. We sat and watched them for a few minutes laughing and awing and then went to go get some overpriced ice cream. As we were eating said dessert in this hip, quaint little place, we were discussing what we had just seen. We realized that what we saw, was something so rare, a truly innocent moment. I kid you not, we started tearing up. This was also due to the fact that there was quite the fitting music of Alexi Murdoch playing along in the background to tug at our hearts a little more. The reason this saddened us so, is because when are we going to ever have another purely pointless, innocent moment? Seemingly never. As adults, almost everything we do has a purpose or goal or definitive end.

Recently I got a bit of cabin fever and decided on trying an experiment. I blacked out my windows with newspaper for some light projection thing that did turn out pretty cool, but I think that fact that Sufjan Steven's "The BQE" was playing through my speakers really helped that. But I was laying on my floor in this pitch black room, doing absolutely nothing. I was achieving nothing, and had no plan other than "lay on floor." This was, in no way, shape or form, a beautiful moment.

So how can we decipher the difference between a moment of nothingness that is in fact meaningful, and a moment of nothingness that is mainly just boring?

The answer is obvious. One feels special and one feels boring.

The real question, is how do we live a moment that has no goal or purpose, but gives that moment in our lives purpose?

i don't know the answer. I'm trying to figure that out.

One time I was feeling like I wanted to feel spontaneous and I went out driving to go hiking. I couldn't find the entrance to the trail I was looking for, so I just pulled over on the side of the road and started going up the side of a mountain. (That sounds a lot more extreme than the event actually was.) I got lost and dropped my phone in a creek and at one point was stuck on a cliff and the only thing I could think to do was mobile upload a picture of me being stuck on a cliff. It was actually rather exciting because I had to do a lot of jumping and sliding to get down and it was pretty dangerous and I was alone so I felt sexy in an Indiana Jones type way. This day is a remarkably memorable day for me. The thing about it is, nothing happened really. I never found the trail, I didn't go that high, and where I was climbing, although steep and kind of annoying, was not that scenic or rewarding. So why do I remember this pointless adventure? I guess because I was running in a circle and not playing tag.

This most recent summer I was in my friends yard and we were spinning in circles and listening to jazz and staring at the stars and running around. I will never forget this night and how hard we were all laughing at mostly nothing. I think this was another pointless, without a goal moment that was pure and perfect. No one was it. No one was tagging. We were just running, in each others company.

We were complimenting existence by giving our plans and aspirations and goals a little break. Everything needs rest, or else it becomes exhausted. I think that's part of the problem. We exhaust our plans and routines.

But we can't just sit and wait for these moments, because that brings us back to the problem of all the time wasted on waiting.

So what am I suggesting we do? I'm not suggesting anything, calm down, I have no answers. I'm just a guy who waits for subways a lot and sometimes spins around and slides down rocks.

I think next time you're waiting you should ask someone else who's waiting a question. Something specific, but that has mass appeal. Like: "Would you rather have breakfast, lunch, or dinner with your favorite celebrity?" If I was asked this I would be shocked and pleased at the breaking of the waiting and an introduction into a moment that has no direction whatsoever. (I would answer this question by saying, Definitely lunch, because it's more laid back and can extend into the night which could lead to a further adventure.)

I suppose that's about what I'm thinking at the moment.

I could continue this for a long time if I was to begin to talk about health care, or the feeling of re-instated true love, or how "Visiter" by The Dodo's is just about the greatest album ever. But I won't.

We should play tag less, and just run around more. We'll laugh more, and no one will be annoyed about being it.

Reality is Fiction is Reality.

(am i awake?)
I've grown tired of crying in bank parking lots
over assumed promises
of what's to come
in an attempt to become more real
by becoming fictional
I sporadically chase a sunset,
(orangepinkwhitebluered)
to an appropriate soundtrack
at a proper volume.
I watch it go out of sight,
never finding a cinematic hill
to stand introspectively and gaze upon
instead,
blank, shapeless clouds take up the sky
as I drive through a backwoods of sorts
(still an appropriate soundtrack)
I attempt now to get lost,
an effort in which I'll try to be found
but instead,
I end up exactly where I know.
I can't get lost,
I know exactly where I am,
because I am real,
not fiction.
I walk up a familiar field,
one where I was once fictional,
where my scripted me found the answer,
I still see a hint of the sunset,
being over powered by the faceless clouds
I walk across muddy waters
only to look back
at sedans and power lines.
I run up a typewritten moss covered rock,
only to fall and rip my jacket,
my real jacket.
I climb a tree, only to see nothing
worth taking a picture of.
I lust to be fiction.
I lust to have man made situations of brokenness
and self discovery.
They all tell me
"You just want your life to be a movie"
So I meet my standard
with these forced situations,
and I gain nothing
but a ripped jacket.
I am sick of an implied want for silence,
through static filled reception.
When will my character be spoken to?
I have no addictions,
but I have the consequences.
I have perfectly constructed scenes,
but life interrupts the necessary clarity,
the film is up,
but my camera still rolls,
in hopes for a resolution,
that has yet to be seen.

Empty Greetings and Genuine Goodbyes: A Brief Life Review.

I.
i was born full

II.
i become empty

III.
i die full

I.
awake
apartment to small home
breathing in the air
of southern sweet talk
of the gulf war
and airplane exhaust
off to the coast
swimming in freedom
and salt water
claiming with a stick in my hand
that i'll fight a war
while i cry
as our dog
gets put to sleep
a cross country
elementary literature filled
van ride
i only see smiles
of gas station attendants
from coast to coast
i remain
internally blindfolded
getting goosebumps
at the sight of a baby deer
or a squirrel in the front yard
not understanding
parents fear
of men with guns
on the school bus
discovering playground love
by the big metal slide
and losing it
next to the wooden table
learning clothes should match
or else pretty girls will laugh
on the way to my locker
getting detention
for making the same pretty girls
laugh
for the right reasons
learning
what a kiss is
next to the yellow blur of
departing school busses
and learning
why people cry
when they can't hold hands anymore
faking a smile
for the christmas presents that are almost there
but not quite
forgetting about
reading books
the bible
creating for other reasons
than canned laughter
temporarily
and stupidly
becoming consumed in
collared shirts
and friday nights
sunny nights
that aren't too memorable
leading to years of learning
and becoming.
feeling death for the first time
in hidden tears
in the den
full of picture frames and guitars
sleeping on a pull out couch
hearing ryan adams for the first time
and understanding
c o n n e c t i o n
learning to accept
rejection
and learning to accept
being accepted
starting out on a snow covered trampoline
moving to a warm basement
moving to a playground
moving to solitude
under a barn
learning confidence
before losing innocence
happily and hesitantly
learning what true love really feels like
on a late night phone call.
starting to remember things
like books
and the bible
and wondering
why they took down the metal slide
and why did i think war was ok
while i held that stick
and holding hands
and getting kisses
and fighting
and failing tests
and learning what jealousy is
and spite is
and
really learning
what a regret is
but more importantly
realizing what an empty, useless feeling
regret
really is.
laughing
crying
holding
letting go
praying
screaming
learning
teaching
really laughing
fake laughing
disappointing
and uselessly
regretting.
having blind fun in rainbow colors
for a little bit more
until
for the first and only time ever
the internal blindfold comes off
and i really see
really
truly
see
for the first time ever
and all i see
is
pain.

II.
all i see is pain
all i hear is pain
all i read is pain
all i feel is pain
and it's real
feeling heartbreak
and reflecting
with blues playing
through laptop speakers
not understanding heartbreak
and reflecting
with folk and country playing
through quality headphones
ignoring heartbreak
and not reflecting
with hip-hop playing
in my car
on my way
to nowhere
avoiding judgement
and crying out to God
on a rainy night
where the streetlights
reflect in the road
and seem endless
"WHERE ARE YOU?"
"CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?"
involuntarily cut off
from receiving love
as a result
all alone
in an un-mowed backyard
kicking a soccer ball
searching for answers
in the slightly deflated children's toy
and in an angry rapper from new york
and in an insightful band from iceland
reflecting on all the hands i've held
which one fit the most
what poolside dialogue made me the most content
what birthday present made me the happiest
what argument made me the angriest
all of these are realized over time
with tears streaming down my face
to an appropriate soundtrack
of "I Want You" by Bob Dylan
where did happiness go?
back on the plane
driving coast to coast
in your hand
or it's still here
but wounded
on a river
or in chili's
or behind my tears
and in my memories
but it's hard to see
when i still see so much pain
even beyond me
when i stand at the door
folding clothes
faking a smile
for the rich woman
with chunky, uneven lipstick
whose eyes tell an even larger story
of sorrow and pain
i contemplate this woman
and other women
and the NBA
and expired inspections
and problems with healthcare
with smoke filled lungs
blowing warm pain out of me
to pollute the air a little more
as i sit
i wonder if happiness dies
and new happiness is born
this becomes true
as i think of my new happiness
found in
kerouac writings
under-appreciated films
giving up on a fast food fast
reggae on sunday mornings
God's love
dancing at girl talk
a new playground love
my old happiness is dead
and i still mourn it
and cry out to it and weep
thinking my old happiness
is
Lazarus
i lay in a pile of dirty clothes
on my floor
and think beyond regret
and think why am i wrong
and to a certain degree
i understand heartbreak
and reflect
while in the silence.

III.
the future can't be predicted
in emotionally biased words
but i know
that i will remember
all the things i forget
right before the end
i'll reflect on
elephants
presidents
garden gnomes
inside jokes
vinyls
a cloudy sky during a meteor shower
el nino
avril lavigne
typewriters
arguments
true love
pretty girls
regrets
email
boring books
heartbreak,
because the heartbreak of a true love
will stay
forever
as will the ability
to truly love again
but come the night
whether i'm loved or hated
happy or sad
single or taken
rich or poor
famous or not
i will die
and i will die after a roller coaster lifetime
with cloudy nights and sunny days throughout the calender
with empty greetings and genuine goodbyes
with kisses and hugs
i will die full
full of it all
i will die
full of life.
even if it kills me
to get there.

Inauguration.

the generation has arrived at the waterhole
and there is a drought
nothing new,
we'll just find another cactus
we can't rebuild the infrastructure
if the people are still dead
we are the lustsick youth of america
we are the children who rely on tylenol and beer to keep us awake for our sleepless empty nights
lying on rooftops making wishes on crashing airplanes instead of shooting stars
the sun exists in dreams and nightmares
and today
sleep through the rain and wait for the rainbow
daylight savings are only here for so long
screaming our mental lungs out to cement Jesus'
we beg to feel the wounds
to know something
is real
our souls are self-immolating
reaching out
to anything
we drive on an empty road
absorbing the bumps
like the grooves on a vinyl
we sit and wait
for jazz to return
the purity of the screaming sporadic trumpet
the innocence of the bass
walking up your spine
the joy of snare hitting and splashing
but all we hear
are words from a factory
being programmed on stage
but listen closely
and look behind the curtain
and you can stop playing follow the leader
and join in on duck duck goose
the wind is blowing the ships off course
but now they know
the world isn't flat
the fire burns the books they never read
but that just proves,
they never read at all
so thank you wind and fire
for all that you've destroyed
the windows are stained
and the pews have been cleaned
remove the rules,
and just confess it later.
convert the sinners from a script
and add up your points
and you've got a one way ticket to heaven
sitting with Jesus in a rocking chair
drinking pink lemonade
maybe there,
we can spend some more time "thinking"
about helping in a daily genocide
while we write a 600,000,000 dollar check
for a fight we got in.
the hope
and change
has always been here
but no one looked under the couch
until someone said "Yes We Can!"
No matter how many buildings are built
and houses are torn down
and roads are painted,
the trumpet will always squeal,
the baby will always cry,
the tomb will never be closed,
the wind will never settle,
and
we
will always find water somewhere.
just look beyond the streetlights
and post offices
beyond the cathedrals
and schools
even look beyond the waterfall
just close yours eyes
and open your mind
beyond a screened in room
don't speak to God
through
a man with a tin can
call up to the clouded sky
cry over lazarus
Hable fuera del idioma.
we are alive,
we are creating
we can survive without rite aid
and chrysler
we just have to look under the couch again
and wake up
before the alarm.

A Half Asleep Chorus

knock knock
knock
knock
I can't ring the doorbell
that'll wake the babies
so I leave the porch
misunderstood
and
misunderstanding
but
don't fear
I took the key
from under the doormat
for my belief
is that
we'll meet again
at a doorway
when?
don't trust the clock
the hands have always been too tired
to get past
the lag
of the human mind
so begins the countdown
of
unforeseeable future
that we all see
no matter what
I'll still fall
and the mushroom cloud will rise
I just hope
you're there to sweep the dust
when it's there
please forgive the mess
I never intended for the necessary to occur.

no matter
the planes the crash
the guns that shoot
the dust that hits the ground
remember
I still have the key
from under the doormat
and I always will
so clean the accidental necessary dust
and follow
the _______ brick road
to wherever it may lead

and

leave your pocketbook
full of receipts

and

bring your pocketbook
full of recipes

have a safe trip on your blank check
and see you at the doorway,
with no notebooks or cameras
only open eyes
and
dry hands
waiting for you
to wipe a few tears
I missed.