Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Stream of conciousness 2: Somewhat of a vagabond
I reach for my box of Marlboro Gold 100s to find them empty, so I prepare myself for the one hour trek to a gas station to pick up some more. My MP3 player is dead meaning I’ll have to rely on my thoughts and the environment for a soundtrack, which can get pretty nasty at times. I throw on my Venom hoody which is still damp from when I washed it earlier and walk out the door. My busted sneakers lead me past the cookie cutter homes which make up the neighborhood, past the pond and near the wooded area which will soon be replaced with the overwhelming blandness of small town America.
This is when my thought process kicks in.
I tend to live my life somewhat as a vagabond. Just a month ago I made the third cross country relocation in the span of only a year. The story for the first and second can be found here, with the third taking place here. I actually do this pretty regularly. I’ve never mastered the art of making a relationship, either romantic or platonic, last more than six months and it makes it much easier to sever all ties and abandon ship. The only problem is that the social and economic consequences get heftier each time.
As a matter of fact, the only things I was able to bring with me during this move was a duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries, my netbook, Kindle, MP3 player and the flashdrive and journal which make up I’ve no reason to dream… I end up having to do a lot of laundry because I only brought enough clothes to last me about a week. Money is dangerously low.
As I’m walking and letting my mind wander I get sporadic text messages from her and they intensify the lonely feeling which has lingered with me over the last several days. My brain keeps trying to ask questions I don’t want to find the answers for so I do my best to ignore it.
I don’t have a car so the only jobs I’ve been able to apply for are the various retail outlets within walking distance from the house. I’m almost 27 years old and I really thought I was beyond doing this kind of stuff by now. I’m not saying I’m too good for this kind of employment; I just want more for myself. It’s difficult once you find where your heart is and the thing you are most passionate about; only to discover it’s damn near impossible to make a living off of. I’d self published My time in Hell… as an e-book almost three months ago and so far have sold a whopping 7 copies. Don’t get me wrong I’m thankful for each and every one of them and I wasn’t expecting to make thousands of dollars, but I don’t know…it’s a little disheartening.
Back at the house I sit outside and smoke a cigarette as I let all the thoughts I’ve shaken up settle back down and fall into place. I haven’t been writing much as of late and find it a difficult muscle to stretch once it’s started to atrophy, so I’ll leave you with this…
I have to believe everything that’s been happening is leading me somewhere and just need to be patient until I finally arrive.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Refresh
Can't tell me nothing-Kanye West
On the second entry of this blog I stated that I would neither take back or apologize for anything I write. When it comes to my blogs and serious works, this remains true. This month alone I've written some harsh and, let's be honest, borderline reckless pieces. While the sentiments expressed in some of my words might not be the same ones I have today, I stand by everyone of them. And there they shall remain.
Boulevard of broken dreams-Green Day
The last eighteen months have been an absolute roller coaster and I'm still trying to process it all. I'm hesitant to talk about it much because it's the very basis for my second book, I've no reason to dream..., and I'd rather you find out about it in the way I've intended. This is the project I want to share with the world and I can't do that unless my first book, My time in Hell and other whimsical tales, is a success. The story I've crafted is nothing short of astonishing and I'm scared no one is going to be able to see what I've done. If you want an idea of what's been going on, this is all I'll give you.
Jump on my shoulders-Awolnation
On the second entry of this blog I stated that I would neither take back or apologize for anything I write. When it comes to my blogs and serious works, this remains true. This month alone I've written some harsh and, let's be honest, borderline reckless pieces. While the sentiments expressed in some of my words might not be the same ones I have today, I stand by everyone of them. And there they shall remain.
Boulevard of broken dreams-Green Day
The last eighteen months have been an absolute roller coaster and I'm still trying to process it all. I'm hesitant to talk about it much because it's the very basis for my second book, I've no reason to dream..., and I'd rather you find out about it in the way I've intended. This is the project I want to share with the world and I can't do that unless my first book, My time in Hell and other whimsical tales, is a success. The story I've crafted is nothing short of astonishing and I'm scared no one is going to be able to see what I've done. If you want an idea of what's been going on, this is all I'll give you.
Jump on my shoulders-Awolnation
Friday, April 20, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Always too brief.
"God, you're beautiful." I tell her and her mouth cracks the tiniest hint of a smile.
"You're silly." She responds in the manner which always lets me know she won't allow my words to sink in.
It's a never ending battle; me trying to build up her confidence while she continues to tear herself down. I guess some old habits die harder than others.
"I talked to Steve a little about you today." She says in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
"What'd he say?"
"He asked me if you were really what I wanted. He told me that once this divorce is final and we're together he was afraid you wouldn't be able to support me or our son. That if your book doesn't take off, though he hopes it does, I'll be the breadwinner. He wanted to make sure I was prepared for that."
"Well..." I hesitate because her husband's concerns mirror back some of the ones I've had myself. "those are some valid points." After another several beats. "Does that bother you?"
"No." She says without hesitation. "Once he graduates he's going to be an electrical engineer and make a ridiculous amount of money. I would have a nice house. A nice car. Nice things. But there wouldn't be any emotion there. We'd just sit across the room and stare at each other. I want what you and I have. I love you."
"I love you too, angel."
Then our lips meet and open; allowing us better access to the warmth within. She then pulls away and tells me,
"And besides, your writing is going to take off. It might take awhile but I know it will."
After that we spend the rest of our short time together making coffee, baking a frozen pizza, teasing each other in several ways, laughing and then cuddling up while we watch bits and pieces of Office Space. Our time is always too brief and I savor every second because I'm never quite sure when I'll get to see her again.
"You're gorgeous."
"You're silly."
When the movie ends we share a few more passionate kisses before I walk her to her car. We kiss softly and then passionately for another several minutes before I make my way back to the house. Just as I reach the front porch I sprint back and dive through the open passenger window in order to get one last kiss. I walk back when I hear her ask for one more and I oblige her for the last time. She calls out "I love you!" and I watch her taillights fade into nothing.
"You're silly." She responds in the manner which always lets me know she won't allow my words to sink in.
It's a never ending battle; me trying to build up her confidence while she continues to tear herself down. I guess some old habits die harder than others.
"I talked to Steve a little about you today." She says in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
"What'd he say?"
"He asked me if you were really what I wanted. He told me that once this divorce is final and we're together he was afraid you wouldn't be able to support me or our son. That if your book doesn't take off, though he hopes it does, I'll be the breadwinner. He wanted to make sure I was prepared for that."
"Well..." I hesitate because her husband's concerns mirror back some of the ones I've had myself. "those are some valid points." After another several beats. "Does that bother you?"
"No." She says without hesitation. "Once he graduates he's going to be an electrical engineer and make a ridiculous amount of money. I would have a nice house. A nice car. Nice things. But there wouldn't be any emotion there. We'd just sit across the room and stare at each other. I want what you and I have. I love you."
"I love you too, angel."
Then our lips meet and open; allowing us better access to the warmth within. She then pulls away and tells me,
"And besides, your writing is going to take off. It might take awhile but I know it will."
After that we spend the rest of our short time together making coffee, baking a frozen pizza, teasing each other in several ways, laughing and then cuddling up while we watch bits and pieces of Office Space. Our time is always too brief and I savor every second because I'm never quite sure when I'll get to see her again.
"You're gorgeous."
"You're silly."
When the movie ends we share a few more passionate kisses before I walk her to her car. We kiss softly and then passionately for another several minutes before I make my way back to the house. Just as I reach the front porch I sprint back and dive through the open passenger window in order to get one last kiss. I walk back when I hear her ask for one more and I oblige her for the last time. She calls out "I love you!" and I watch her taillights fade into nothing.
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