20110531

it was tuesday. something happened. i was busy.

the divorce stole my thunder. i feel like if i can't actively hate her, i can't actively be creative. only time will tell if i'm bullshitting myself (i probably am).

i'm taking the week of the fourth off. haven't picked a destination. it might be my couch.

i had really shitty tacos at el mezcal. very underwhelming, and the service was shitty too. don't ever go there.

sorry, i'm feeling mundane.

20110530

now playing: AC/DC - Back In Black - Rock And Roll Ain't Noise Pollution [192kbps|4:14]

my mom has m all week. bitchface sent a text asking to see her, negative ghostrider the pattern is full. i haven't been able to write a song since my divorce was finalized. i'm not sure what the deal is.. maybe i'm just out of ideas. or maybe i just don't give a fuck anymore. or maybe it's this sickness i have. after listening to elliott for days i have ac/dc in my headphones here at work and it sounds refreshing honestly. maybe i'll write something about not having anything to write about.

spent the morning at the minor medical center (yes on memorial day). i now have a supply of antibiotics and a low white blood cell count. joy.

20110529

Evidentiary hearing to commence
Court will now come to chaos
Falsehood has the floor again
Lies have been sworn in as truth
Someone must take the stand
The witnesses are all a no show
Plaintiff or defendant, I forget
No mitigation in sight, too staunch
A victory is still a fucking loss
All too soon it's in a judges hands
Now all you have left is the loss
---
my "flu" is over. it has left me feeling like i have arthritis. my palms are painful and feel like i have an itch just under the surface i can't reach. if it doesn't pass i'm going to have to get tested for lyme. also fun: my hand is killing me after playing guitar. i couldn't get comfortable at all last night; i slept in three different places and somehow ended up on the couch. this is not good. sleeping is *never* a problem for me, but my body/skin feels uncomfortable all over since this struck, and it's been almost a week. god i hope it passes.
---
attempted to use the new weedeater i bought yesterday to finally make my front yard look presentable. two things happened. i used up the plastic cord thing in about two minutes. and i discovered i have a body rash. i never really noticed it or it appeared overnight, but it's definitely there. keying in my symptoms (fever, chills, followed a few days later by a body rash) appears to turn up rocky mountain spotted fever.

20110528

Let the words dry up
They cannot assuage your truth
Let the mouth moisten
The blood of the innocents
Let the taste coalesce
A crepuscular awareness alone
Let the rest of the day burn

20110527

now playing: Elliott Smith - From a Basement On the Hill unreleased, rough/alternate mixes - Stickman (backwards drum version, 'acoustic' mix) [320kbps|4:01]

ditched all friends, gave my tickets away, locked the doors, and said goodbye to the week.

recorded some music while i was crying today. they sound better with real emotion.

listen to enough live music, and you'll inevitably hear catcalls and screams during the first chords of each song, as audience members loudly proclaim that they recognize the song before everyone else. this got me wondering how many of those listeners are full of shit. i want to write a song about accepted yet ridiculous group social phenomenons like that. it sure as hell ruins a lot of live music.

20110526

this flu is not yet done with me
my entire body is sore
like i just did some lifting
and my skin is sensitive as hell
when i survived the first night
i thought it was a 24 hour deal
now four days later, it's still here
this is something else entirely
and to happen this damned week
the single most important week
as far as my job, and her school
it feels as if the fates conspired
fuck em

i'm totally delirious right now
had no power, no cell last night
and no one wants to talk to me
maybe i'll pass out and wake up
and it will already be last week

20110525

An impossible machine awakens
Fueled by fossils from far below
It creaks to life expectantly
With a sole, unabiding purpose
To carve away imperfections
Designed to remake its maker
The work is long and arduous
Painful for creator and creation
But oh the fruits of their labor
The physical, emotional stupor
A distant soul reared far apart
Pulled back towards the fold
Every iota of success measured
The machine continues its work

20110524

Just got hit by a 24hr flu bug
Chills, fever, whole nine yards
Kiddo helped out immensely
I hate when we can't play
We had a staring contest instead
She's so ingenious sometimes
Still reeling but I gotta go in
This week is uber important
Might've been food poisoning
Whatever it was, never again
They sent me home this morning
Spent most of the day fine
Then the fever returned tonight
Just broke so I'm crashing
I'm still passive aggressive
Asked my child for a ruling
On her mother picking her up
I do it without thinking, so sad
Who would want someone like me
A game player unaware
Habits formed from the marriage
A decade of dysfunction
I need therapy.

20110523

now playing: Elliott Smith - Figure 8 non-album - A Living Will [320kbps|2:33]

Nice to have my own soundtrack
I have accomplished a great deal
So why am I crying to Elliott
He says leave well enough alone
As usual, its damn good advice
Keep doing what you're doing
Be content leaving my legacy
And keep working, staying alive
In search of resonate analogies
Metaphors which can harmonize
Here's what hit me this morning
Some dogs bark from moving cars
And some don't feel the need
Trite and contrite, my favorite

Unbelievable that he wrote songs like this that weren't on an album.

20110522

now cooking: pot roast

Everyone can see through me
Exposed to the worst elements
Clearly I am now invisible
Pushing through a film I built
Opaque to me but no one else
Find yourself before they do
Otherwise doomed to repeat

20110521

Charon, the vending machine
Put down a larger down payment
Just to be put down again
Saved up most of the allowance
But this is a smart investment
Unfortunately still years away
Years away from seeing maturity
Karma saved and spent unwisely
Left with a negative balance
Forced into more method acting
Memories buried in the yard
Happiness boxed in the attic
Home flooded, stagnant emotion
Each item remembers her face
But I've already forgotten it
Flotsam and jetsam a link to her
Waiting on help to drain it all
Until debt collection comes along
Wishful thinking

20110520

aka - what a difference a day makes

my brother shot and killed his daughter's boyfriend. they have two kids. it was self-defense, and he wasn't even arrested, although they took him into custody for a night to question him before releasing him. i think the entire family is in shock. i wasn't a huge fan of the boyfriend, but they do have two kids together, and this is just a tragedy. the guy held a shotgun to my brother's head, while he was in the car with the kids in the backseat, and my brother pulled a pistol and shot him. he thought the safety was on, just wanted to scare him, but it wasn't. there are rumors that he was beating his my niece, but who knows. i just want them to move out of the area before the eye for an eye mentality takes hold. anyway, i had one day of peace and then this hits. fuck.

m had a field day today, and dismissed at noon. originally, my mom was going to pick her up but then all this happened and plans fell through. luckily i have a flexible schedule, so i picked her up and ran into her friend's dad on the way out, and they invited us over. we spent a few hours over there and it turned out the guy was a collectibles nerd who used to run a d&d/card/comic store in midtown. so we had plenty to talk about. we came home and i made her a snocone on the snoopy snocone machine. and now we're just hanging out.

the facebook thing was a serious release for me, although (this is stupid) i wonder if i'll be able to write music afterwards.

also, RIP macho man randy savage, my favorite wrestler of all time, all time meaning my youth, when i watched wrestling. it really saddened me to hear of his passing, fuck.

20110519

I posted this on facebook. The only person who didn't provide a positive comment was a's grandmother, who (quite deliberately) misunderstood and thought I was saying my entire marriage was terrible. Deliberate misunderstandings must run in the family.

Today marks the end of a terrible chapter in my life. On the corner of _ in downtown _ stands one of the prettiest Catholic churches in the city, _. There, almost ten years ago, I began a journey. On that very same corner stands the _ County Courthouse, where that journey ended today. I have come to terms with an unfaithful and unrepentant spouse, and I pity the path she has chosen. Despite this, my daughter will still have the upbringing I committed to the day she was born. A moved out the week before Christmas, and since then, I have been the sole provider for my child. I state this truth not for adulation, moreso as a validation to myself that I can be a single dad and do a damned good job at it, as I sure had my doubts six months ago ;) I also state this to urge A's family to work to affect change in her life, for M's sake. To my friends and family, thank you for all you've done and continue to do, it is very much appreciated!

20110518

Erect a monument for yourself
Choose a pose and stick with it
Hold it out as long as required
The sculptor wants it just right
Years of work on the edifice
Few appreciate the handiwork
Years of work on the pedestal
Today I choose a pose of victory
Sitting in my car at the court
Gazing across at the statues
With their old, stoic diligence
I have to get off my ass again
And do the right thing again
Fuck it.
So now I'm in the bathroom here
And there goes my breakfast
Thirty minutes left for closure
An open and shut case, of course
I may stop into St. Peter's after
A sad journey completed here
I want to weep for my daughter
I want my ex to weep for her
Too many wants in this life
Here I go

20110517-2

ever had a song that could reduce you to tears, no matter when? there are very few with that power over me, but one such recording is "ten years gone". when i was first learning to play guitar i would attempt that riff over and over on my shitty jap-strap and dream. the droning nostalgic feel, the poignant lyrics delivered perfectly, and of course, jimmy page traversing the spectrum of the fretboard with arpeggiated bliss, building from nothing more than a simple line to a patchwork of amazing interlocking sounds. when i was going through my truly worst times, well before marriage, before i had even experienced the loss of ones first love detailed so well by plant, i would imagine this song played at my funeral. i listened to it randomly today, fought the tears all over again, remembered the beautiful overdubbed guitar work, capturing so much emotion, pain, and hope. to this day, the guitar line that comes in at 4:20 still gives me goosebumps, as it perfectly harmonizes and augments. now that i am on the precipice of coming full circle, on a journey quite literally ten years gone, this song somehow managed to find even more meaning. and yep, i still want it played at my funeral.

20110517

now playing: Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin III - Out On the Tiles [128kbps|4:06]

One day left, one day only
Everything is so damned poetic
The courthouse for my divorce
Is literally across the street
From the church where it began
My doomed little marriage
The stress is pulling me apart
But I'll put up a good fight
Show up with my butterflies
And again, do the "right" thing
Finding my new synchronicity
A brand new cycle to balance
Our multiplayer strategy game
Or is it simply an RPG

20110516

so i'm sitting here thinking about what i want to write about, as i so rarely do, and decided to jump off the existential cliff.. one of the worst things about this medium is how it was built around accessibility and not creativity.

in its simplest terms, if you take a piece of paper and begin to write on it with pencil or pen, your character, intent, mood, whatever, can usually be surmised easily, simply by a quick at your handwriting. structure, form, spacing, organization.. these aesthetic qualities are quite difficult to reproduce or convey effectively without an analog format for expression. all i have in front of me is a white rectangle with a monotype black font. sure, i could work within the bounds here and produce something different with fonts or colors or what have you, or i could just take a picture of a journal page, but all tactile intent is lost as well as scale.

i have produced months, years really, of these emotionless diatribes for mass consumption, utilizing an inhuman caricature designed, ironically, to make it easier for us all to communicate. it's the equivalent of chopping off the highs and lows from an audio recording. dynamics are lost in translation and all you have is a puddle of midrange mud. perhaps that's why i love songwriting so much. my vocals, unrefined as they can be, and guitar, on the sloppiest day, can convey more loss and hope in five to ten seconds than in a months worth of these silly posts. honestly, the internet is the antithesis of pure communication, it is a muted amalgamation completely forgoing some of our basic senses, and the more we cling to it, the less we appreciate and understand the neglect happening behind and around us.

maybe if you could feel the smudge of a tear on one of my poems, maybe if the smell of rain on one of my hopeless afternoon drives home could hit you the way it hits me, maybe if you were standing over my shoulder right now, as i write this at my desk of my repetitious existence, all of this would mean more. or maybe not.

20110515

now playing: Elliott Smith - Unreleased - Sorry My Mistake [256kbps|2:26]

Dream: a lease of hawks (eagles?) is roosting above my home in some massive, gnarled tree, when one of them is swarmed and attacked by the smaller birds circling around, and it falls to the ground. I see this happen and yell towards a friend (family?), who joins me. The other hawks, well oversized i'm noticing now, swoop down and surround the injured bird, and they begin to march with her, all on the ground. I follow, and at some point I realize they're not hawks but people, and she's been marked defective, and thus led off to meet some terrible fate. I step in and say I'll look after this beautiful victim, and although she doesn't speak, her eyes tell me all I need to know.

20110514

a nightmare woke me up. a wanted to show me her tattooed back, it had like a raised diorama on it, which for some reason reminded me of the intro of game of thrones. At some point afterwards, I had decided to go on a camping trip with a big group of people, but I missed it, because I'd forgotten all my stuff at the house.

When I finally fell back asleep, I had an even weirder dream. In an apartment in my college town, had some new friends over from work. went outside with some crazy device in my hand i used to teleport from place to place, but it wasn't working right. then I saw matt, a high school friend, two houses down. He was throwing a party and invited me down as soon as he saw me. I left the friends in my house and went over and was on the couch. Instantly a girl laid her head on my lap. Took awhile to pry her off. By the time I returned there was on old lady on the roof of my place and so I called the cops to get her down. My new friends were having some sort of orgy at my house. Went back to tell matt.. by the time I was back, there were 100 cops there. I met the mayor, who was very tall and wearing a police uniform. got back in my house and it was completely trashed.

I woke up a second time, for a short time.

fell back asleep and had a normal-er dream about asking out a girl at work.

and now you all know why i dont share my dreams very often. jesus they are so powerful though.

20110513

now playing: Elliott Smith - Figure 8 era unreleased - Stained Glass Eyes [180kbps|3:03]

a pastoral scene is framed by an unpainted sky. tumultuous and unrepentant, the thunder threatens to scar the tranquility of the rolling solace below, but the verdant blanket of life holds its own. fresh, tilled earth uncovers the rich loam of rebirth hidden just beneath the surface, waiting almost eternally to be rediscovered and utilized. nature is the only soundscape present. i wish i could stand at the focus of this event always, where creation meets destruction and neither yields, nor needs to do so... but i'm always snapped awake, and the balance sways.

20110512

now playing: Devin Townsend - Deconstruction - Planet Of The Apes [320kbps|10:59]

do i have anything left to write
tired of writing only of sadness
surely the world offers me more
i am beginning to taint my child
though no direct fault of my own
the sad effect is still the same
the student mimics the teacher
why is solitude so very offensive
i flat out suck at relationships
why should i lick old wounds
or worse, go and find new ones
be alone and apart, no worries
learn who you are, no hurries
except i'm lying to myself
screaming for companionship
on my terms, like a child
on and off, a social faucet
but it doesn't work that way
does it

20110511

now playing: Gwar - War Party - Womb With A View [248kbps|2:23]

Fishing with marionette strings
Quickest way to catch yourself
Charge extra credit for the show
Hope the audience is entertained
How many months will it take
Must rerecord everything soon
Suddenly I am ready to dream
But I have nothing to show for it
Except the passing taste of food
Another sleep eating adventure
A werewolf with no recollection
Lately each night is dreamless
Slipped into maintenance mode
Now awake and pulled outside
Summer temperatures are here
Not even 7am and uncomfortable
But the mission must continue
Stay hydrated, run your ass off
Chisel away at the marble
Until you feel what lies beneath
Imagine your quest completed
Repurchase pawned keepsakes
Stock up on the raw materials
In search of a new contractor
Rebuilding without a floor plan

20110510

now playing: Down - Down II - Ghosts Along The Mississippi [192kbps|5:06]
now cooking: Breaded fish tacos, hash browns (burned, fuck) and yogurt

no explanation is necessary
rejection role starring on stage
collectible roses tossed upward
as if more tinder was necessary
let the superstructure catch
see if i fucking care anymore
diamonds need time to harden
so i bury myself just in case
dig me up at your convenience
a shovel clangs in frustration
every strike sounds the same
more distractions will check in
as one shift ends, another begins

20110509

now playing: now playing: Elliott Smith - Either/Or - How To Take A Fall [192kbps|2:52]
now cooking: hot dogs, pasta shells, and mixed vegetables

Just erased a perfectly bad one
Someone once said it takes two
But our family equated to three
Don't even know what this is for
Like Phil said, just give us five
Minutes alone, but I'd take six
They say god's all about seven
But infinity is more like an eight
Was that ever a possibility? Nein
Never got that far, only to ten.

20110508

now playing: Drudkh - Blood In Our Wells - Ukrainian Insurgent Army [213kbps|5:02]
now reading: Charles de Lint - Memory & Dream
now cooking: Mrs Paul's fish, black eyed peas and snaps, and grapes

The squirrels control my street
A sex game of chase is afoot
Each victory produces a victim
But it continues the species
Each interaction is a power play
Grass responds to all this rain
In the only way it knows how
Growing only to be cut down
Like many of us mowed by life
My headache has subsided now
Definitely due to dehydration
Six miles will do that you know
I want to run more this morning
Regardless of the consequence
I wonder if it's worth the effort
Same question for my songwriting
Am I a martyr for introspection
The impetus for my creativity
Cuts like so many little daggers
Each lyric is a bloodletting
As I expose my hidden layers
Why is it even fucking necessary
I feel safer recorded into a mic
The medium is wholly receptive
These headphones never dissent
My music, even the worst song
Will never, ever reject me
Because each is a part of me
Each is a part of my heart
Which she shattered so well
Maybe if I write enough songs
I can put it back together
Through sheer will I am reborn
Growing only to be cut down

20110507

kiddo went to a birthday party at pump-it-up, the inflatable place, in the glow room no less. she had a blast although she got hit in the head on one of the slides and there was some friendship drama. dropped her off at the ex's apt afterwards, and the former mother-in-law was there. we hugged and i left and that's that. i hope my daughter isn't too emotionally drained after all the carting around and promotional tours of duty that they'll be putting her through this weekend. what's funny is, to all those nameless family members, it'll be as if my ex has been a parent this whole time, which is not even remotely the case.

she texted me at some point to ask if i was busy, and i just ignored it. i don't need or want her drama anymore.

My heart and its ticking sound
My pain insists on sticking around
I must eventually learn to adapt
This old house has me trapped
Or maybe it serves as a cocoon
A negative rebirth will hit soon
Pry open this big coffin one day
There's nothing else left to say.

20110506-2 bio

Second grade was taught by Sister Antoninus, a terminally short, elderly lady whose appearance belied her true demeanor. She was a tremendously kind old soul and a wonderful teacher. I remember getting in trouble for making fun of a kid who'd brought in a go-bot, which was clearly inferior to the transformers. He squealed, the little bitch. Also got a kid to switch schools. He was my archenemy at the time; a bully of unparalleled redneck proportions. He lived in a log cabin, I mean, c'mon. (Actually I wouldn't mind living in one, it would be kinda neat.. but I still would prefer a castle with a moat.. a big moat... make that an island castle... anyway..). We were constantly getting into it at recess, and one day it escalated to the point where we were throwing rocks at one another. Little did he know my dad had been a sniper in the army. I tossed one his way and it hit him square in the eye. His parents transferred him a few weeks later, and that was that.

more to come today if i get unbusy.

20110506

Still looking for the good side
Search the mirror till it cracks
Eventually there's a turn around
Without turning around at all
Run into unbearable discomfort
An itch from the inside out
From a place just out of reach
Torn apart, raw and hungry
Luckily, there's a cheap fix
These symptoms are not unknown
Prescribed this drug called life
Have to stay on it for years
All I see round are these addicts
It's the interactions that get you
But I can't find a warning label
At least tell me if I'm allergic
Cause each awkward dose hurts
Or at least that's what I hear
Can't get the fucking bottle open

20110505

Funny how you get accustomed
People are far too habit forming
Most of the time it's a drag
Subtracting from your solitude
Pulling in different directions
Start again with the repetition
New friends from the neverafter
Choose to let them make choices
Each an expectant vocabulary
Use the mask they bought you
Free will cast aside carelessly
I'm sure it's for the best
It's like one morning you woke up
And the world revealed itself
Too bright for it's own good
Covered in the usual greens
But today it means a bit more
And perhaps a bit less.

20110504-3 bio

[5-6 years old - 1st grade]

I feel like I need to take notes on my notes.. random memories keep cropping up. Might as well get the unpleasantness out of the way. Shortly after my grandfather died in 1981, my grandmother sold their home in the city, and moved down with us. My parents built a small house directly behind theirs for her, which of course I affectionally called "grandma's house"... I have to consciously avoid calling it that even today. It was like a permanent vacation having her around; we'd play, she'd make milk toast, etc. That summer she would drive into the city to take me to swimming lessons at the YMCA. One day, she was going to see Lena Horne that night, and playing around in the back yard. I remember coming into the house and seeing her on the floor, half dressed, and thinking she was taking a nap. I still wasn't really familiar with the idea of death, certainly not regarding my grandmother. I went back out to play. Some time went by and I came back in and told my mom. My grandmother never woke up. The ambulance came and I remember them trying to save her, but it was too late. To this day, I blame myself for my grandmother's death. I should have gone to tell my mom something was amiss as soon as I saw her, but I didn't. It might have saved her life, it might not have. I'm crying even getting this down. It was a pivotal moment in my life. This is when the fear crept in, that would dominate my persona and strangle my attempts to reach out. I remember being told by someone that if you stood up straight during the full reading of the passion at mass, you could wish a soul to heaven. I did this in earnest for many years and put all my energy into it, trying to save my grandparents souls. It would take a few more years for the complete disillusionment to set in.

When it came time for first grade, my mom sent me to the same Catholic private school that my siblings attended. Mrs Reynolds was my teacher, and she was fair but strict. I was made fun of and belittled almost from the moment I stepped through the door. I was chubby at the time, my mom bought "husky" pants for me, and I was too smart for my own good. Rather than turn into a bully myself, I usually replied verbally, and it got my mouth washed out a few times. We still had sisters at the school, Dominicans, and they were definitely from the old school when it came to discipline. But I have to say, all in all, I loved them. Maybe that was because I towed the line and didn't get into too much trouble.

One day, after school, I remember walking across the parking lot to my dad's truck, getting in, and seeing a box in the floorboard. Inside was this tiny jet black furball staring at me. My older siblings had had two dogs, Babyface and Snoopy, who I remember vaguely, but this black lab was *my* dog. He was named Colonel Rebel, or Colonel for short, and he shadowed the rest of my childhood. At some point my dad rented a backhoe at made a pond on our property. I'm pretty confident most of my dad's home projects were done in order to make mowing the grass easier. If you look around my parents backyard you will notice almost everything is curved off, there are few if any corners on anything. Also everything inside the house is on wheels. Wow am I the worst storyteller on the planet or what. The point of that was that my dog absolutely loved the water, and would go happily swimming across for no reason and come back to shake water all over me. We actually had some chickens for awhile as well, and I remember picking up a box of chicks over at the co-op on old 78. I got to name them (after smurfs). Not really my best naming scheme decision ever: there were multiple smurfettes.

I remember once, I was having problems with a certain bully, and when my mom came to pick me up, my brother Vince happened to be in the car. He got out and asked me to point the bully out.. he proceeded to walk over there and scare the shit out of the kid. We have had issues relating over the years (I have trouble relating to just about anyone anyway, when you peel back the bullshit) but that incident sticks in my mind. Another memory from that year or very close. My sister had moved into an apartment with a boyfriend who, for lack of a better term, was a piece of shit. Well one day, word got out about something (I'm guessing he was hitting her) and me and my brothers went over there and straightened shit out. I am a total pacifist but my middle two brothers? Not so much. We got her moved out of that environment and things turned out for the best.

So I had been yammering on about getting a computer of my own for awhile, and my parents came through in a big way. I still remember oohing and aahing at Service Merchandise, which btw was the ultimate store for a kid on earth. For the uninitiated, you didn't actually pick up items off the shelves at Service Merchandise. You decided what you wanted, paid, and walked to the back. There, in the back of the store, was this reaaaally long conveyor belt, with a constant stream of boxes issuing forth from the warehouse at the back of the store. To a kid, this was pure unadulterated magic. I imagined an entire cadre of elves getting an order and whisking about to retrieve it. The item in question was the Commodore C=128, with a 1581 disk drive, a 1902 monitor, a 1671 (upgrade!) disk drive, and a thermal printer. I was set for life. Hell even the box was orgasmic, or whatever the age-appropriate term for orgasmic is. My oldest brother, 16 years older than me to be exact, was in college at the time, and his roommate was a huge nerd from the neighborhood, who went on to do computer work for the military. He had a massive collection of pirated Commodore games and utilities, as well as a thick stack of Commodore magazines, which he replenished periodically on his visits back home from campus. I taught myself BASIC and religiously copied the machine code from Commodore magazines like Compute!, Run, and Ahoy to make all sorts of interesting creations. Included with the C=128 was a precursor to DOS called CP/M, which I delved unknowingly into for hours on end. Even got to play around with one of the first GUIs, GEOS. It was fairly useless (hint: UIs still are!).

Also procured from Service Merchandise: the Odyssey/2, an old game system which was pretty entertaining. My friends down the street had their own systems, Johnny had a ColecoVision, and Chris had an Intellivision. Together we conquered many worlds and consumed many a snack. Sweet Tea with approximately a kiloton of sugar from Chris's mom, pepperoni and cheese plates from Johnny's mom, a former new yorker. Life was fairly good back then, I have to say.

I did well in school; I've always enjoyed the act of learning, but I sometimes need to be pushed to start. To be continued!

20110504-2 bio

[4-5 years old]

Around the age of four, my mom had to go back to work, and so she enrolled me at LaPetite Academy for preschool, kicking and screaming. Of course, she cried her eyes out leaving me there each morning, but I ended up adjusting, as I apparently do with other challenges, eventually.

Plenty of vivid memories from daycare. First of all, I loved playing The Three Stooges (why yes, I was Curly in fact) and I hated naptime. I can still remember the blue cots. My spatial memory was already well developed: if you asked me to, I could draw you an exact blueprint of my daycare to scale even today. I can do that with most any place I've ever been; kinda helps in that I never get lost (barring distractions). Mrs McCann was my teacher and was an amazing lady, and Mrs Lydia made this fantastic broccoli casserole that I raved about so much my mom got the recipe from her. Unfortunately this love of food also I was already starting to get chubby even at this point. It's so funny who I remember and who I don't; there are a couple of teachers through the years whose names I'd have to struggle to remember, but not those two. Had my first kiss in Kindergarten. We were on a field trip in one of those stereotypical daycare buses and this girl and I were out of our seats by the big sliding door kissing and got in trouble. That would be my last kiss for around 20 years. I was actually reintroduced to her by my mom at high school; she was in the same regional honors band as me one year. After being introduced, we never spoke again. Also remember being on a different field trip and our driver saw some estranged ex while driving around in the middle of the city, Airways Blvd or close, and we pulled some crazy U-turn and followed them at high speed... fairly confident the person lost their job, but at the time it was exciting as hell, being in some sort of car chase. We went to McKellar Park in Whitehaven a lot; hiked and played around the lake on the trails.. they would just let us roam freely. Also I remember visiting the Chucalissa indian museum/burial mounds a lot, which usually involved the purchase of blowguns and tomahawks. Because of my age, I graduated from Kindergarten twice, so some of these memories may be from age five.

Anyway, I remember geeking out hardcore on the Tandy TRS-80s at daycare. I was amazed that this normal looking tape drive could be plugged into this tv-like device and produce some sort of game. Still remember looking at the manuals and wanting to deconstruct the thing. I am fairly certain I began whining about getting a computer of my own as soon as my fingers touched the keyboard, but it would be a year or so before it happened. My best friends in the neighborhood Brian & Keith (brothers who lived two houses down) and Adam (in a different part of the neighborhood) both had Tandy TI-99/4As, and I remember playing Parsec in Brian & Keith's room for what seemed like hours. I was totally smitten. They'd try to pull me out of there to play a game of Yahtzee (they were always playing Yahtzee there for some reason) but I wouldn't budge. Also remember playing on the slip n slide down their hill. Their dad got a new job elsewhere in the state and they moved, and it totally broke my heart.

Other random memories: my dad's 1972 orange chevrolet truck, which still has a place of honor at their home, even though it's beat to hell and doesn't run. Oddly enough I don't have a lot of sibling memories from this time; perhaps the gulf had already started to grow. I think my brother Vince, the next-youngest, had issues with me replacing him as the youngest. Issues as in he teased me constantly. He is eight years older than me, so it would be awhile before I could hold my own in one of these contests. I definitely remember choking for breath while being smothered by a blanket though.

Somewhere in there I'd lost my grandfather at age four, but I don't remember that one, as well as I remember my grandmother. Her I remember all too well. You may have noticed I only mention one set of grandparents. This is because I grew up with my mom's family being my family. My dad's family, outside of rare visits to his brother, did not exist. I do remember going to his mother's funeral, which was way later, but she had little to no part in my life. I still don't know all the details there really, other than my dad converted from Southern Baptist to Catholic to marry my mom, and his family didn't really support him. I know that he had to hitch rides to get to his baseball games and no one from his family ever even showed up to watch him play. He was a triple star athlete (football, basketball, and baseball) and could have played in the major leagues if he hadn't married my mom and joined the military. As I continue to wade through my adult life waist deep in selfish unhappy people, I realize the enormous sacrifices my parents made for each other and for myself, and I have a limitless amount of love for them. Except for the whole faith thing. But we'll get to that.

20110504 bio

A friend did this on her blog and I thought it might help me therapize myself. So here goes:

[birth - 3 years old]

My earliest memory is of my mother: she'd taken us to Kroger's and the battery had died in the battleship of a station wagon she drove at the time. It's amusing now to imagine her tiny frame even attempting to command such a beast, but there we were, stranded at the grocery store, until a nice random gentleman (they still had those in the 70s) helped get us started. I was three years old.

I can remember my grandparents' house from this time vaguely; it was the only house around with a basement, and I can remember being scared to make my way down there, even though it was essentially a game room. I distinctly remember the pool table; never understood why my parents had left it when they'd sold the house, but it probably would have been a nightmare to move. I had only a short time with my grandfather, as lung cancer was starting to take a toll on him. He was the kindest soul I've ever known; I remember sitting on his lap a while he cried, saying he'd never get to see me grow up. I am the youngest of five (six actually, my mother's first child was born premature and died shortly after birth) and so I was "the caboose" as my dad put it. He was a lifelong railroad man, after all. Being the youngest in an older family comes with its own perks and drawbacks. Many of the faces of extended family I'd loved were from my grandparents generation, and as I grew I watched that huge, close knit extended family crumble and die off. The other vivid memory from this time was around Christmas. Mom had set up these elf figurines, about a foot tall or so, which plugged into the wall and would light up. I pulled one of the plugs halfway out and touched it, shocked the ever-loving shit out of myself. I can still recall the noise, like the humming you hear near power lines but a thousand times more pronounced and in my head. My mom lost it at the time, threw all the figurines away, before they could hurt her baby again.

I also remember sitting on the window sill in our kitchen and my ass went through the glass and broke it.

Some of my other memories from this time were from my aunt tina's house, where my cousin Neal and Katie and I would play incessantly while the adults did their thing in the den. I remember recording our antics on tape and i'd made them laugh by saying "crapola" into the mic. I can't recall if I got into trouble for that one but I distinctly remember it. I was probably about four.

20110503

Our ears never take pity on us
The skies echo our discontent
Cracked open and poured down
Pools of a new god's bloodletting
Record the rain, hear no trace
The only fingerprint left behind
Cleansed by the water

Our voice a thin and wispy cord
The songs echo our whispers
Unsuitable for baiting the hook
No exchanges or substitutions
Record the pain, a pitiful memoir
Unloading the latest garbage
Hidden in the air

Our body a besieged temple
Occupied by perpetual slumber
Hidden and so very grotesque
The wellwishers and naysayers
Record the mileage, pointless
Masterpiece reduced to sketch
Trapped in the earth

Our mind fragmented and broken
Impossible machine beyond repair
Too many threads to number
So numbness becomes the goal
No one can hurt us in our head
Baptized by the fire

Stop the recording

20110502

the weekend draws to a close
slogging through it to work
past the ginkgo trees i love
past the nameless faces i hate
it's rained for weeks straight
but there is a drought inside me

...

meditate on silence
paralyzed, stares into space
imitate the violence
a coma in search of a face
we are all doors to one another
but mine is best sealed shut
it's all a make believe game
and i'll never make the cut

days like these, i just want to be done.

20110501-2

20110501

it's a new month. today, with virtually no warning, the ex stopped by, on her way to brunch, to see our daughter. i am still trying to figure out why exactly. i learned that she went fishing with her new boyfriend yesterday, and was disgusted to have to step foot in a walmart... in order to buy bait. she is also wearing a huge faux engagement ring for "pest control", as she put it.

i think she just wanted to be able to tell her grandmother at brunch that she'd seen her kid. she asked about the charity race i'd attended with her on friday morning, went to the bathroom, and left.. again.

who knows what it means. who cares.