again, tomorrow, yesterday (forever)

Everything, really...

again, tomorrow, yesterday (forever)

Is it this day already, June, and the too long summer staring me down, looking down the barrel of this miserable city. If anyone reads this, sorry, it has been forever since last I posted, nearly three months. What is three months, what has changed, little if anything.

Grad school, has well, been cast away like so many little child dreams, now tossing beer and liquor for rent money. Not so bad really, just living, a life yet unfulfilled, so be it. A great work in progress, yes, I hope still in progress.

My words are dry, now, coughing weezing hollow chested echo coughing, sputtering these pretty little things, or ugly little things. My ugly little things, putting them here, to spy on to read about, to learn, me. Take me and drink it all in, it's ok, that's why they are here.

I didn't send her home early. But, I haven't picked up her phone calls since she left. I will, again, I always do. I'm stuck. No other way I guess.

For a little nostalgia, or just to remember what the world used to be like. Go to the new page on my site. Just a few old pictures. Pictures of my family on my mom's side, pictures that have just hit me really hard. I don't know why, looking through the thousand or so old family pictures, old, like before I was born, I felt like I was seeing history, like this was some picture show documentary on post-war America. Where everyone was living the dream, after serving the country, a country that people were proud of you got your GI Bill money, moved to the suburbs and lived a life. Proudly.

But, so far from what my Grandma and Grandpa probably ever thought would become of their brood. Oh well, here's to best intentions and hope in the future.

My body feels like it's going to melt. I am sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. My hands spiderwebbed with veins reminding me that my heart is warm and beating. That and the dark pit of fear and hate and terror that is choking me.

My mom is visiting. And her behavior has made me utterly sick and sad. There are few words adequate to explain just how it feels to have a mother, and actually, a father that is schizophrenic, particularly a paranoid one. To hear the absurdities, hurtful and senseless, said with such venom about someone I care so much about...leaves me weak, and hopeless.

She was supposed to say until Thursday, she was supposed to go to the museum with Megan tomorrow while I was at work. She will go home tomorrow, I can not deal with this. I've exhausted whatever part of my person that is used for coping long ago. No more. I can not, save yourself, before you become like them, I am cold and terrible and terrified.

She threatened that if I make her go home tomorrow that she will never call again. Maybe. Maybe.

But, how, how can I do this. How can I send her away? I am all she's got, but I don't think I can handle this burden. Is this selfish? Yes. But, at some point it must inevitably come to self preservation.

How can I listen to her tell me about the people next door to hear talking through the walls and threatening me? How can I listen to her making up stories about people that she acuses me of knowing and of Megan knowing and all of us conspiring to get her thrown into jail. For what. Who is this person, what did they say. How can I deal with the all too familiar (for those who know schizophrenia) bible stuff. This is terrible. I am sick.

There is no happy ending to this story.

No absolution, no forgiveness. Just living and dying, breathing until you can't anymore.

God, what an awful hour to be awake and alone. Or not. Is nearing 5am, have only been off work for 2 hours or so, and cannot wind down, the words, bubbling and boiling to the tip tops of my fingers. But, no cohesion, cannot write sentences, just thought bursts, blooming, like a wonderful explosion in the sky.

Speaking of Explosions in the Sky, all of you, if there are any left out there who read this, should listen to this band. They are heart pounding, stay up way too late just to listen over and over good.

What's up with the 10% tip, I just don't understand, or like people very much. Anyway.

warm melancholy ringing sweetly in my ears

sleep drunk staring at mouse scurrying

this apartment: home is where your heart is

trees and upward glances willing the sun

breathless, ceaseless movement, a mad dance-

legs and arms, spine twisting barely breathing, like sleep

coming easily and effortlessly, a ballet of muscle memorizing

passage, ideas that once lept from page to page to eyes, to

deeper than that, than I'll ever know

hoping that I won't forget

can never forget the path behind, not tripping

moving forward beyond comprehension

just movement, reaction dancing, between the I's and thou's

and then a moment, a breath, a glance

but, am awake now and the flash brilliant white moment

is gone, leaving just a lingering taste, neuron instant

1.29.04, and before.

1.13.04

Grand Maman died today, or was it yesterday. Actually it was like Sunday, but that doesn't really matter, this was no surprise, no sudden untimely (though if death is ever timely, it ain't)anyway...it was expected and the process of the viewing and the mass, though unpleasant and a little weird is nothing compared to the mindfuck that is seeing family that I havent seen in too many years.

It is something near 4.00pm. And this is where it begins...the viewing is at 6.00p for family, and the drinking has begun already. Too many old faces growing older...there is some loose and foolish talk about carrying the casket. Not what I want to do. But, I will, if asked. More, later.

Well, am now bus sitting, the greyhound in Cumberland waiting to be magically transported to the city, back to where I feel most at home. Back to friends and more, back. The viewing last evening went about as I would expect...lots of oh she looks so good Lots of hugging and crying from those members of the fam who do that thing. Lots of loose and weird talk from my mother (a mess, to be expected though, I guess) Most of we younger folks, all of us cousins are in our young twenties or late teens spent most of the evening choking on each others chain smoking and profanity upstairs in the lounge. Was nice to be with them again. I think.

Today was the final private viewing for family and then the mass. I was one of the pallbearers. Not a whole to be said about that...really, it was myself and five other male cousins doing the carrying. That wasnt as profane and absurd as was sitting in the church, sitting, standing, and kneeling as the Catholic church sees fit to make us. I was the only one in the whole fucking place who didnt recite the words, didnt cross myself, didnt take communion...but I did carry my dead grandma to and from. So, at least I could do that.

This is for my grandma (only)

May the road rise up to meet you,

May the wind be always at your back,

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

The rains fall soft upon your fields,

And until we meet again

(Traditional Irish Prayer, abrrev.)

1.28.04

Too long have I let my finger grow silent, my words stopped up in the worldwind of living and working and being alive. But, am dying, just a little bit, every day feeling a little lost, though I dont know why. I never fucking know why.

Was talking today to Megan and almost began crying. For no real reason. Just all the exhaustion and frustration and anxiety, and all that other deep dark shaded shit started bubbling up, choking my voice, my mind. Just weird, have been living a life so full that havent had those moments alone in my too cold (why are my apartments always so fucking cold?) with the music and the tap tapping to deal with my own noise. Need time to stand face to face, with selfwith just me. With me and my thoughts. And silent scream, and write and learn to breath again.

My head feeling light, a balloon floating untethered, dangling in the cold and wet air.

The sick wordless pit growing in my stomach. Why.

One semester of classes and a thesis and I have a Masters degree. To what end. How long, how far does this path go. To sling beer and talk and write and ride a bike. Can I live that life? My book dusty growing for lack of attention. I fear it is shit. So much I want to say, to write. So much work to be done further. So much further. What am I waiting for? What have I been waiting for all my life?

Still standing, wobbly legged

salt stained and crumbling;

City street walking, icesliding towards traffic

dodging the corner eyed apparitions

I see you; standing their, sitting cross legged

cigarette dangling from the corner

mouthing silly drunken hopes

Those hopes of protection and warmth from another

To drown all that spine crawling creeping gray and black shaded;

Noises in the alone dusk, dusty cushioned static blaring almost nights

(j/J)ust hopes

To summon some bluegreygreen own strength

Facing forward, knowing youll never fall forever

To catch, broken and bruised, but alive

You are there.

Easier making excuses than living

Them and I together: juggling hope and fear

Together

Its not supposed to be easy

does it have to be this hard?

I dont know what any of that means. Anything. You tell me.

When is this fucking evergrey winter shit mix going to end. Deep down into the S.A.D. as I write. Im moving somewhere forever warm and sunny. Moving to where the rain is sweet and soft and warm and inviting. Where the sun shines until it is no longer needed only rise again happy and bright the next day. Just as I would.

Havent spoken to nor seen so many friends in a while. That is bad. Been living morning, noon, and night in an 8 square block circle. The city has me trapped. Walled in, claustrophobic. Tried to break free only to be thwarted by mother nature. Another cruel and wasteful trick. To plan to breath in the cold crisp air back in Frostburg, only to decide at last moment (rightly) that an overnight trip home would be foolish and dangerous. But, fuck. This city, am slowly drowning.

Just sheep bahhing and braying. Why dont all these clever people realize that. Cannot copy yourself after another, or an idea. An authentic life, to live as yourself and no other. Tough, yeah. But, so many, just feign at this. Just slow witted attempts. Just kidding self.

Typical grumpy ruminations from me. I know. Forgive.

1.2.04, can you fucking believe that?

So this is what it feels like to welcome another year, my 25th new year, to be precise. Though, it is true that only 24 years and some months do I posess, this is merely the effect of having been born during that most sweaty month of July. Anyway.

It has been a little while. For that, I am sorry.

This night brings a chill, and I find warmth inside, not alone, for a change, but, together...whatever that means, the words inside warm me, and so does the passing of another abhorent holiday season. Nothing like Christmas, alone, though, was of my own volition, feel a betrayal to a person long since passed. Just easier to be alone, for this time of the year. My way, I ask, nor give any other way. Thanks.

Been, lately working like an animal, making and gathering new people, friends, even, living a weirdly typical city/grad student/silent dissendent kind of life. Waiting tables, drinking, writing, and breathing in the deep and old air that surounds me.

I sit here, on this only, lonely second day of this the 2004th year since some big shit went down when some little baby came to save the world (or so the story goes) and I am grateful to be alive, and living, and having those that I do. Though, it is not without some doubt and fear and anxiety and regret and loss and longing that I rise in the morning. But, that is to be expected, no?

Hoping to finish this book thing by March-ish. Have just picked up the newest McSwys and am alight with hope in words. Hope in my own and the faintest glimmer that what I say or write, or do, matters.

And a goldwinged apparition, hope and luck guide me through this world. Saved, skin of teeth living, alive, breathing, living this exhausted path. Fucking love the cold. Cold, cold, cold. See the We Three Jerks blog to reference all the cold. Anyway. In a flippant, light mood. Is a change. Is to be smiled upon.

12.2.03

So this night is cold. I mean, fucking Frostburg cold. Though, is only in the high twentys low thirtys. I've lost my tolerance to the cold. Fucking city has stolen one more thing from me. But, ignore that. That gets me no where. I wonder where I will find myself not resting a year from now. If, down in the depths of it in Frostburg at this time last year, God knows I wouldn't have guessed that I would be back in Baltimore, so near, yet so fucking far from finishing my degree.

For those who care, and even if you don't...I am flirting with academic disaster again, though this time I will not flee, I don't want to. I just find myself falling into old patterns. I am tired, utterly.

Tony said that. That I would have to be to be keeping this shit up for so long. And I am, but I don't know any other way. Well, I know it, but cannot live my life like someone else, anyone other than I.

I am you and what I see is me.

So, perhaps an effort to step outside of myself for this night. Not too long ago, one wondered why I never write about, specifically the people in my life. And I explained. But, maybe that missed the point, or more to the point...I dont know. I fear words from me about others, because inevitably I cannot know. I cannot know you. I-Thou, sure, but, only you can know...but, this time of year, this time and place, me here, nearing fear and worry. I am thankful. For these people...and I figure, so few read this that it won't matter a whole lot...or, whatever. Fuck me. I need these people I let in. Thats why they are in, in whatever capacity you may be a part of my life. You are there. Thank you.

I care about you fucking people a lot. Just dont tell anyone.

Tiredgrowing after so many of these years; how many?

What is my service, how long

Silly questions (self) knowing the answers are forever

People being drawn in and spat out

Normalbeing alone and cold fingered

Heart working only to a life: unfiltered, as is

Keeping time with no one but myself

Wishing to hear the others tick tocking

Strained ears, bent to the beating breast

Lying still under covers, warm breath on the neck

And being completely elsewhere

Wondering--where are we, you and I

I am tired, forever tired of this same story

-but is the only one there is

No rewrite, no revisions

Making best of hand dealing with it all at once

The tide taking me out, bobbing like cork

Try to draw this picture just as you see it, want it

Like housebuilding of sand

Shifting and forever different

Look close enough and know

marching half-time towards: Happiness
no time, left to be here
left to the wind, cast me away
no, I cling to these hopestraws, you
The worldwind claiming me, greeting me unto itself
happy and alive; the dust and dirt and grit of the world
consume me

Today has me numb. Not altogether bad, but have been numb for a couple of sunrises and sunsets now. Life, is. My words drying up to trickles...parched, searching. God let me be that leave swirling amongst the others in the early winter air, dancing and flitting in and out of the energy, falling, but never resting.

This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but with a wimper. Fuck.

Words, come forth and take a bow. Be acknowledged. Be known.

Tonight, the wind and the cold rain have moved in and I am strangely warm, at ease. Even. But, my mind is not entirely calm, I'm not entirely ok. I am worried, discontented, a little mad at myself. Just things, the world. Playing tricks with my happiness. I take a step back and am welled up with anxiety and fear and all the same old shit. The patterns repeating, the needle stuck in the same old grooves. A familiar melanchloy refrain playing again and again. But. You know, to grow, to break free from here. Wherever here is.

Feeling more inside myself tonight. Feeling good. I think. Yes. Anyway...in case anyone was wondering I am well over the 150 page plateau in my book. Two brand spanking new sections are posted on the We Three Jerks website...go here. https://thynkhard.tripod.com/three_jerks, or follow the links on the front page of this site.

So, as you could have probably guessed from my wallowing last week, I did not get that miracle job. Is ok. Really. And I am no longer a retail wage slave...now, soon to start as a server, and hopefully a bartender...soon enough...will be cool to walk to work and walk home...and have money in pocket every night.

Am back to training...though still am smoking...yeah, I started smoking...bad I know. Oh well. But today...in downpouring...sky exploding...greay streaking hope throgh the mist. I love rainy days in November...best for me, to remind...to know...

Wrote this the other sleepless night...short and not sure what it means...but I like the flowetry of it...

Another; of these so many din silent
Nights, again with the shadows
mirroring, gesturing, as if to know
Go to sleep; rest your eyes
Let your head fall; undercover
warm and soft I hold on to that
I'll never know; clinging

Well, fear not, as much as I want to cast away my hope, it clings to me...and I to it...dangerous though hope, is. My funk falling, fasting, breathing and beating on this chest, on this table, on this world forever. I can do nothing else. I shall continue...

Sincerest thanks and appreciation to know that at least some, few, some...you, maybe understand...that I am not the only windmill chaser, the only one...never completely alone, well, at least until that final curtain is drawn taught against the stage...but you know, anyway.

I write not about other people specifically for a reason...I know them not...I can only speak in this voice, my own...people, you who read, or who live in my life, who's lives I impact some way...I write for you, and for myself, but not about you...you are mystery...and I am glad for that mystery...I don't really want answers...I want the journey...I want the wandering, forevernow and again an end is found...but not really, the end...not really.

Things, here...you know...life, in progress...forever slowgoing...but, still, am breathing life in, deep.

Mired in this world...I am, feeling a waste of paint...So, here am sitting feeling that all too familiar winter chill coming through my middle...waking every fucking day with that horrible sense that it will be just like the last...feeling that no matter what I try that it all comes the same in the end...that all too familiar thing..I am down, deep down...falling and drowning...realizing that all that I used to be, or that I am, is mere whimsy...I don't know anything...what can I know, for sure....I just want to be sure about one thing...any one thing...am not.

I did, do what I thought needed be done...am always, fucking miserably wrong..I don't know.

Feeling like a memory...no substance to my breathing beating heart this day...all around me the world lives, now, and I, feeling so like a ghost...I sit at the bustop and watch it all grow up and bloom around me like some great and beautiful painting...and I sit behind my glasses and my hat and my music, and just try to learn...to figure it out, knowing that I can't...these so many wonderful ideas bustling to and fro in my head...never coming to anything..never turning into reality...

I said last night that I cannot realistically ever think about the future, that I cannot ever picture my life not being anyting other that this forever struggle to just wake in the day, to get out of bed...I cannot hope, anylonger, hope is somewhere else...all I can worry about is the next minute, and even that is a stretch...fuck.

What is the title of the Bukowski book....Sometimes you get so alone that it just makes sense...yeah, that's how I feel sometimes...more often that not...I would cast every other living soul to the wind, to bob back and forth in the great cosmic soup if I could...but the few...so few they keep me together, they keep me connected..somehow...and for that, well I guess...I am thankful...but fuck, I would be so much,...no you all would be so much better off if I was not more than memory...

half way there...and fading fast...

How long can I ride this crest...how long oh lord how long...I feel like shit this evening...tired, sick, hurting...my hand swollen...infected...antibiotics making my stomach sick...the daylight saving no one but itself...fell asleep today...waiting, waiting for the phone call to tell me my future...none came...still waiting...toppling onto myself...tired...fuck, fuck, fuck.

Some many leaves giving up the ghost...retreating into that gray somewhere to wait out the cold...this latest round of Weather...mean trick...mean spirited...too nice...oh relax, enjoy the 80 degrees in November...I feel a long wet grey cold coming...feel it inside...I want to crawl under the blankets and stay warm and happy with the world running it course...I will reemerge come may and again breath life deep into my lungs...or not...I will weather this storm...just shit tonight...am in that mood, down...fuck.

10.23.03

How fucking wonderful a day can be when things go well...when hope is stretched a little bit farther, when you will accomplish things, then, drink, be with friends, think about the amazing possibility that is so close to your fingers...stretch just a little bit farther, reach, find something, and let it set you free.

10.25.03

I, sitting here eyeheavy, warm and worn. It is the end, another day done, another of a million lived today committed to memory, nothing more. Just a flash in the brain. Time so short when looking backwards, so long when in it, a subject to the tick tock.

Men playing a game, like children on a school yard in front of thousands...a city where nothing sleeps, when no down time, then anything can happen, when no rest, when no solace to be found in the dark places behind those eyelids, thats creepy, that never sleeping zombie march. But, where was I going. Tonight is not full of words, just the air. Stale.

10.26.03

Exhausted, sitting in bed, head is floating, barely up. Slint, a band, from Kentucky of all places pacing through my ears, foreboding, angry and apologetic all at once. I like this sound, that idea. No words, just sounds, man...sounds of nightrain coming in through the cracked windows, dirty, wet, city rain. Brown, liquid world sliding down the building to join that before falling. Ah.

Tuesday, make or break in those too many steps to being a member, to being a fully functional part of this machine. A second meeting/interview, judge me. How long, O lord, how long. (thanks Dr. Thompson) Anyway. Tomorrow is just playing the game, doing that thing, I must, I cant sit here forever tapping and bleeding all over these pages. Not always, but, I can never let this slip away. Never. Forever.

Father forgive me...I know exactly what I do

These foolish things; how much does it matter

In this lightlost place, blue glowing, growing

I feel barely alive

Stale.

Bread to live, barely; failing

Falling, down so many steps

Leaving me broken and bent

Prostrate, before, against the wind blowing the rest

Ah, sweet rest, slumber, heart betraying

Will to slow, to speed to run, to attack

I can't, not here, not her...tonight

I dont know anything, ever

Did I though, I thought, knew...everything.

Really, time has changed; forever the same

This me, mean: bellcurve

Just like a fly trapped; fruitless beating on the inside, let me out.

10.30.03

forbrooding, forbidding, forget

All that was once said, known

Thought that I had it all

So clearly the stars burning just for my I(s)

but this everalone thing; (j/J)ust swirling

Dervishes my fingers melt those so many ?'s inside

It all turns to this; a call and response, musing

Hoping that I never lose

This game played: all to give up that ghost

But,

Ah, but it doesnt mean nothing

Ever

Forever starbright blood bursting

Maybe, thats it, that thing, that so many dark smoky nights

The wall creeping in and out,

With so many breaths, rasping coughing blink blinking of

That godamned reminder

Time, running through these finger tips

So, ten or so, what; nothing

An eyeblink to this great big bluegreygreen wonder

This thing, floating, untethered, just as I

You

We, can be; be, you

Button downing the drain: being so subtlety subversive

Sheep, bahhing and braying: feed me

Need me, they say?; dont they

Need me, I need me

To create: you and them, and me and us

Its all that same

Colors mixing together, same fucking palate

Why do they hide

Just pieces in this puzzle,

A niche, this is mine, ours

So few, willing: claim your prize

Draw those wonderfilled moments

A clear vision of nothing at all

An opalescent, Vaseline on the window

Just for my(thou) pleasure

Squinting just right into the dawn fire

You can see those forevers that too many miss

Sitting eyelid heavy; heartbreathing

Here and now, and again

Smiling to myself, though the smoky haze apartment is empty

I warm, outside, the chill erupting through

Brown leaves yawning, falling, wrapped in tomorrow's sunrising

Hope of something many tick tocking moments away

But thats ok, I am

On bended knees; rolling in the dusk

Letting the space around fill me up.

I shouldve slept last night. I really should sleep now. But, am at that point in the groggy haze that is sleep deprivation where the exhaustion feels comforting, nice, warm. I sit here, wrapped in toboggan and scarf, tap tapping on this keyboard and it feels right, it feels good. This, like this so many hours spent in Frostburg...you remember that, Frostburg, locked away in that closet office room, cold, cold air nipping through the paper mache walls and me hiding in the eerie glow of Nathans mac. Wow, how many miles ago that was, and then to think, how far it has come from the beginning of it all.

How this Baltimore adventure began. I can still see me and Nathan and Freda dead tired sprawled in the pristine living room, our new home, far, far away. That was August 2001. Millennia ago. How time bends and stretches and cajoles, and generally fucks with you. Wonderful.

Today, my mothers birthday, how obscene, how sad to be 49 and where she is. I called her, wished her happy birthday, whatever that means. I could hear how lonely she is, how I need to do something, to make something worth all her and even my dads tough life. This is me, here, now. Fuck.

Anyway.

Time here, killing together, forever - alone

These things made so much sense, dreaming

Waking terrors, calming thoughts

You others, sometimes giving so much, to know...

To Try.

Thinking letting those things spill out the ends

Given away long before that moment

All the same, ending or beginning

Made of the same ( ); I wonder what this

Threadbare, leaving myself

Only an outline, coming farther and farther

From that original maybe

I wonder, will this ever end

I mean this, that, neverceasing hope searching

I feel it coming up, bubbling up through the black sticky tar, covered myself in this shit, hiding from some end that I never wanted to reach. Throw that away, let that untethered whatever come to the surface, ignore the red lights, trample a path, leave a mark...let it all spill out. Hope. In something. My words are back...they were never gone...just needed to dig deeper, to delve, to shovel, rearrange, back to work, back to creatingback here.

Brooding me, we making the best

Of time Ive never had to answer

Those too many things, hiding

Come out, come out, wherever it is that you go

That place, in the dark; walls fading into the ink...

Pages and pages turning over

You are not allowed to peek at the end; soon enough

We will be there

Soon, enough to know...anything

What do you want, something

God, I swell with the beating of a billion others

Pounding fists, blood coursing veins

Filled, seam bursting...

Stretching so far, never enough to reach

Even heart beating beside, so distant

Have I gone this far

All I see are ants surrounding; I am calling out

Silent.

Skin touching, warm togethered rest, entwined; eyes covered

As far as this line can go; divergent paths, all; never to converge

One; fallacy...want driven, humaness

I too, that; I am

I know

It is in my chest, alive.

How long has it been, my lovlies, my people whose find these words and choose not to run, but choose to read, and even yes even sometimes to write on their own, to come from those too many dark corners where the people with the words hide...they choose to say something, to tell me something...is wonderful the idea...that idea, that I have something that matters, that we share these smae wild eyed ideations of creation and hope and sorrow, and just trying to live in a world that forever will not care.

But, I digress. For those of you moody brooding minds sitting out there...just under the radar, hiding yourself, saving yourself from the madness that daily threatens to consume...I say cling to self, and those few others that matter...I know how few that really is.

By the way, my mom has comletely gone of her nut...this is going to be a bad one...I see a residency at a state hospital soon if they don't fix her meds...fucking miserable state mental health system...fucking clowns. Anyway...I thank, well who ever there is to thank, I thank that thing, or person, or whatever that I have more or less dodged the proverbial bullett...that genetic sentence of servitude to a mind that threatens to ruin your life. God, my folks make me sad.

Enough of that. Life in this city has taken on a kind of bored consistency...running the hoops at school, doing my best to set myself apart from the rest of them...selling my soul to the bookstore man...just killing time, stealing tiny moments, those clear moments when every thing makes some sense...takig them, and writing until I can't any more...til it is all gone...to wait for that next burst of hope and words and life. So that is where I am.

I am eye tired, I forgot how good it feels to go out and breathe in the air (don't be afraid to care)...and then, sit and drink coffee...and flake out and write and be me. Is nice...a revelation...I am comfortable in this skin these days...more than ever I mean.

The rain has me foul. I sat down and tried to write something substantial tonight. Nothing. The words are there but am in a mood to just sit and listen to sad music. I dunno why. I am not sad, really. Just want to close my eyes and feel, feel what the music is giving. I feel, truncated, short, not quite all there, tonight. At least. I am missing something.

Of a broken heart...until I die...the TV is trying to convince me to buy videos of women humiliating themselves...a common theme...people, breaking themselves, broken. Man, fall is here. It is. I always flake out around the change of the seasons...I think that the rest of time is just in between but there is no wiping the memories aside at the seasons changing...so much comes back to mind. What happened now, then. I was in Frostburg at this time

I feel the rush of trying to get life down and moving no longer, I feel like not moving, just living, stopping that fucking ever-searching. I just wasn't expecting this. I think...I don't know. Maybe I am lonely...but, there is no place that I could be without you. You know?

You probably don't...some might, one might, never mind. Fuck me. The lights want to go to bed, so do I. Til that day, adieu.

So yeah, looks like we gonna get a hurricane huh? I wonder what thatll be like? My mom wants me to come home, back to the hillsto escape what may be coming our way. Personally, I dont give a fuck. Though the fact that I live in the basement could prove to be badbut, here or therewhat will happen, will.

I say, bring it Isabelle, you bitch...I'll go out into your fury and dance naked, just to fucking spite you.

I am reminded every day that I am not nearly as anonymous as I would like to pretend...that my best attempts to fade into the background, to slip away...that everyone leaves a little bit of themselves behind...that every moment you live, you are living in a world of others...

So...I was sitting, staring at the television screen, those painted faces blathering about the anniversary...and I started to think...should I acknowledge...do I have something to say about what happened...say something about the way that day has affected me, if at all...and what I see around me, in light of it...and you know, really I just want to turn away from it...thinking that maybe its most dignified just left as is...not needing any more sentiment...not needing someone else to memorialize it. But, I feel compelled. Feel that maybe, for the first time since the week directly following, that I've got more than just a couple of words to say about it.

I have no stomach for the geopolitical shit storm that has since followed those planes and those people...Simply...well, I am not happy with the prevailing winds in this country...in the people in power. All this we are doing, well, I haven't the words...I can't politicize countless deaths...is not fair to the dead. So I wont.

I can still remember that day...like it wasn't two years ago, like it just passed, clearer than that though...hell, most of the time the passing of hours is just haze to me. But, I remember the minutiae of that day...every little thing.

I remember going to work...it was while I still was working for Hopkins at Western High School...I had to wake at like 5 am...and I rode my bike from Towson down to Falls Rd...the air was finally cool and not sticky in the morning, that morning, could begin to feel the oppression of summer fading into something much softer, more inviting, fall was on her way. It was nice to feel a chill flying down Charles St...keeping pace with the cars...smiling, I can see myself smiling...

Obligatory breakfast of two bagels and a large ass black coffee at Einstein Bros...my cleats skittering across the hard floor as I waddled my way up to the counter. I was still new to the city, new to this life away from Western MD...neweverything was so new...had begun a new life...all was going so incredibly well...Tony was staying with me and Nathan by then...

Anyway...the morning went pretty normal...we began running test subjects and chatting in the makeshift lab...then the first words of what was happening came to us...

The staff there...me and a random assemblage of staff...just people, doing a job...I can see their faces so clear. Our PI (principle investigator) came in and mentioned something about planes flying into something...there was an old, tiny black and white tv in the lab...we plugged it in and watched Dan Rather...all of us...huddled around that tiny black and white TV watching something that was surreal...this couldn't be real. The buildings came down so slowly...like it was done that way for the extra drama...just slinking to their knees...no longer able to bear the weight of the injury done to them, and then crumbling unto themselves...a cloud of dust...covering, hiding the truth...it was real. Fuck.

All of us there reacted differently...a quiet, horrible amazement, sure...but, you could see it in everyone's eyes, that they were processing this thing...I mean we got to watch, unsuspectingly, the last seconds of some three thousand people...we watched on that tiny tv, some three thousand people dies...tanding there in a shirt and tie, in an all girls high school in Baltimore, with people I've only known for two or three weeks, an older couple from India, a Chinese immigrant, a young black woman from Tennessee, a middle aged woman born and raised here in Baltimore, a young guy that went to high school at Dunbar, a girl my age from Minnesota...we all watched those people perish. It was, needless to say, fucking weird, horrible.

Then the phone calls started...everyone had someone to call...except me...I was too busy watching everyone else...I thought about Tony and Nathan...but thought that they were still asleep and thought that well...let someone else use the phone...turns out that that Chinese woman, her name was Sue, well she knew a couple on one of those planes...they were heading to California to catch a flight back to China...some shit, huh.

But...we left that tv on...but no one was too interested in watching it, aside from the occasional glimpse over the shoulder...we kept working, barely focused...hoping that they would send us home...I mean, in between testing subjects we speculated...wondered...

Eventually, around lunch time they did close the school, and with no students around we didn't have any work to do...I let out of there around lunch timeI remember hammering home...I was in such a hurry...I don't know why...the streets were packed...traffic everywhere...going slowly...it was such a nice fucking day...the sun shining bright, unfettered...careless...I remember it being so quiet...even with cars and people everywhere...I could hear the radios in every car I passed...

Huffing and puffing up the stairs to my apt...Tony and Nathan there...the TV on...it would stay on this coverage for way too long...I was sick of it after the first couple of hours...I think the first thing out of my mouth was 'A lot of people are going to die because of this.' I was right. Fuck me.

I remember one of the first things I did when I got home was to call my mom. I did that much. But, I dont know why...I guess just a gut response...part of being human...that thing...everyone called family...Nathan and Tony and Me. Didn't call my Dad though. Sorry, Dad.

I wasn't sad. I wasn't angry. I was excited...this was, for us, far removed, watching it all on tv...this was exciting...makes me sick, that we are so desensitized, that I am so desensitized, that it takes a conscious effort to feel bad for this thing. What happened was so remarkable that I, still am not able to feel empathy...

We three sat there for hoursjust sitting and watching and talking...all kind of shocked...all kind of in awe...I think I took a shower...there may have been some ramen noodles involved...finally I needed to get away from the TV

Tony and I went to the mall...it was closed...we walked up to Towson proper...the circle was abandoned...few places open...ended up eating at the Burrito hut...we weren't the only ones...the rest of the day a bit of a blur...that day...we were so removed...the majority of the fucking country just sitting back...unable to do anything...knowing that we should do something, knowing that things were different, somehow...but how?

I still can't answer that clearly...things are surely different in this country here and now, then they were on September 10, 2001. Though, for most of us...life still goes much the same as ever...but now, now weve got this forever image in our heads...like a movie you've watched way too often...but, that's the thing...just like a movie...it happened, sure...but...

The biggest thing that I notice...is the huge dent in the collective consciousness of this country...like we are all just a little more broken than before...the people who actually in person knew people who died have something real to mourn, to long for, to cling on to those memories of people gone...the city of NY...they have another thing, their long list of things that make that city what it is...the city and the people that live their, unlike any place in the world...firefighters, cops. Those people have some kind of pride flag...something for them to cling to...remember...but for the other 250 million of us...all we have is a picture on a tv screen, now burned in our heads...knowing that something real fucking bad happened, but not being able to deconstruct it...not being able to turn on it...not being able to really know it as real...just like death...like there is this thing that we know, practically, I know...but just missing it...just a step removed, so that instead it becomes an idea, a vague notion of reality...instead it just sits there...taunting...

And this thing has become the scapegoat for so much garbage...so much...like a once proud person humiliated so thoroughly that all that's left to do is to cling, to cling to somethingto need everything too much...broken. Were broken...in the worse way...broken because most of us have no real thing, nothing to really heal from...forcing ourselves to feel a certain way because we knew what happened but not having the actual experience to get over...first, forcing the horror and fear and sadness, then forcing the patriotism and pride in this country, and then forcing the backlash to all that, and slowly but surely forcing the 'healing process' but what kind of fucking healing can one do when the most that really happened was that we watched it all happen from the safety of our living rooms...I dunno.

Ah...you people...just like we...just like us, shaded a little different...things are all the same...really...read here to not be given the answers...but rather...well...never sure of my motives...fuck me.

'ello. How is the world, outside. I am pretty glad, happy, and so on. Aldous Huxley was a wank. But, that is neither here, nor there. Sorry.

So jaded, cynical...man, I blame this on my close friends...my eyes are closed to other people long before I even know them. Too ready to say nay, to blow them off...to ignore what they may have to say, because I know that it is forgotten...to decide before hearing the plea, because, whatever it is, it's been said before...this gets tricky though...isn't that what I'm doing though...with this book, this thing. Fuck, karma...I am screwed.

Well, the end of another week. I feel like I am living in some dream world, right out of a Kerouac book. Is wild, things though should next week fall into that 'normal' pattern of school...

More sure of the direction of my thesis...very cool, actually. I think, anyway. Something with Social Comparison and Romantic Relationships...to see if SC applies in that context. And if so, to define it better. Anyway...I am sure that none of you care about that crap...just want to hear about my longing...my meandering mind, looking for that certain something else...anyway.

Sorry just playing but, go hear, or rather, read what we Three Jerks have to say.

So, my spirits have been bolstered. Good to know that I am not the only one who is beginning to believe in this book, thing.

Anyway. There is a strange glow to life right now. An alive glow, but more than that...a sense...a feeling...a 'I am happy' sighed breath of hope. The fact that I don't have much to say on here, but everywhere else is bearing the weight of my words, creativity even...that is good.

Just a quick note...Have set up a new blog for me and and my two connected friends...Marc and Tony and I...probably going to be more fun to read than this...but you know...different goals...that and this...anyway..will be fun...need a dose of irreverance, that I think is your tonic...

https://thynkhard.tripod.com/three_jerks

8.28.03

I am seriously tired this evening. First night of class is tomorrow...am anxious to get into it...have been spending too much of my time killing the furniture-less and tv-less evenings sitting by myself drinking coffee and then beer...is becoming quite a habit. Have applied for near 20 jobs...ranging from high end reserach stuff at Hopkins through the simpler pursuits of selling coffee and stuff to the Charles Village hipster crowd. I really dig this place. By the way.

8.30.03

Here bus sitting I always feel so pensive, so thoughtful seeing the world float by in the early morning sun. A real mind fuck reallygoing from Baltimore with all the audio visual splendor that it offers, then to the highwayrolling greenwith stops in reborn New Englandesque towns of Frederick and Hagerstownthen up the big hillonce on top of the world again gravity gets the best of you and the long slow roll into Cumberland, so lazy and grey.

Then, hell then theres the people, on or around the busmost part just poor peoplereally bus travel is the bottom of the barrelhell, I think even I would fly if I was going to somewhere with a oft-functioning airportand I am poor, poor. Anyway. Nothing quite so foul as the stench of humanity in the inner city Greyhound stationbahwhat a cess poolbutthat is a passing thought, worry. Is good though, I think, to know that there are some places in this privileged and wealthy place that well, that are just not nicethat there is an unmistakable dark side to being humanI think its too easy to turn that into some vague, far off idea if you never see itloses its impactnever, ever turn your headstare at both the good and the bad with equal zealnothing, nothing ever happens in a vacuum.

9.01.03

September, already. Are you ready for whats to come? I wonder some mornings if I am really prepared for the day that will turn and progress without much help, and certainly no consent from me. Jump in a swim. Man.

Words. Starting to blieve, hon. Is, nice, so, nicehow sweet it can be.

I am quite desparately addicted to caffeine I think...rather I know I am. Have made that last mad step. Nothing will get the blood flowing quite like a double espresso. Anyway. I write better sucking down the good stuff. Quick thought bursting, writing...know where this is all going. Am posessed with the project...going, form taking...loving the work.

Had first day of class today. Am feeling spectacular. Things are changing in this me. Weird.

8.24.03

Well I am back and alive and well in Baltimore. I really dig my new placeI am staying here for the first time tonight. All has gone ridiculously well. Thankwell, you know me, thank who ever is in charge. Who is responsible for this?

I have this chancealone in my own, fuckmy own place for the first time since my last semester as an undergradI sit here in the dark and think back on the last few years. Something to be said for coloring outside the linesI think.

I feel myself sitting on the brink of a whole new thing. Times been playing towards this for a while nowgrowing into myselfI know that sounds weirdme being the stubborn bastard that many of you know. Well, you know how it istime to burn and slow too, cant be too hurried to paint this picture of selfonly end up drawing someone elseoha pointmaybe, well yes, butanyway.

Our generationor rather, this brief mini-generation of oursbunch of us who dont really fit with the Xers or that obsessively obnoxious generation on our heelsYbut usa jumbled messseeming to not quite fit with the flannel cluband knowing better than to want whats coming behind us. A lost generation (well work on the name later)spoon fed media from the moment we were cognizantliterally born the same time as MTValways playing rolesreflecting whats out therenever quite being a self, rather playing a roleuncomfortablea generation so worried about keeping up, never taking the time to see what were doinggeneralizations, of coursemore to come on this. A voicethrough the cacophonya loud and strong voicewould be nice

8.25.03

Met with Thesis advisor today...am more excited about this semester than I think ever before...at least since my first year of college at Frostburg....I still remember walking around there hoping to...well just hoping...can still see what I am wearing, Tony and I walking in the long shadows of the residence halls...people trickling in now...dusk approaching...college. No shit.

8.26.03

Its starting to feel like home. Though I am still without furniture or cable or internet. I am feeling at ease in this neighborhood. The rats are quite hospitable and even the bums are jovial. Ran into a guy rummaging through the garbage in the alley behind my apartment tonight. Was as pleasant as a man rummaging through garbage for food could be.

A weird feeling running through me. Possibility. But not that ephemeral, oh anything could happen type of possibility that shines the brightest in dark and alone timesbut more the wow, look how fucking lucky Ive been type. I sit here and know that things are turning towards me. I know. Maybe. Never allowing myself to be completely taken over by hope. Of course. I should have internet next week. I am going to get that instead of cableat least until I get a job. As always

Thank you. Who ever, well, you know.

8.27.03

A bed. How nice. Ordered. Hooray for not sleeping on the floor. Hooray. Jobs, come hither.

I've noticed something quite unexpected down here. People are really fucking nice. Not at all expected for the city. People are nicer here than in Frostburg. Hope around every corner. I'm tired. Soon to bed. Needed to write some though. Spinning Plates is coming through the fingers. Flowing. Form taking...a long process. Am, though...actually starting to believe in the me that I've told everyone I am. Is nice. Am thinking much about certain of you. The people here, much like those I've alway known to exist. My people. Just to talk to them though...never been good at that though. Working towards a balance of close broody me and being able to talk to people.

I think I am allergic to my mom's house...maybe a psychosomatic thing...I need to get the fuck outtta' here...will be back in Baltimore next weekend...renegade approach to moving...am going down on the bus next weekend with barest essentials just to get set up and then weekend after am getting motorized help...hooray...

Timecrawling to nothing here. Fuck me, is like going backwards. I wake every hour of th enight to find only ten minutes have passed since last I woke. I don't know how my mom can live like this...has only been a couple of weeks and my mind is wilting...I am dying...need to move...be with my People, get back to work, have something to fucking do. Fuck.

Ahh, my lovelies...am moved...the spirit is in me...words from these old hands...tired, yes, always...but lovely melodies in my ears....unstoppable rhythm of the world beating through this chest...ahhh....

I have a home...in Charles Village in Baltimore...perfect, absolutely perfect location...literall right around the corner from everything...the coffee places, the bar, the bank, the grocery store, the restaurants, the people, my god, finally..and am stupid, undeservingly lucky...and I thank, well I am thankful.

Or not. I think I have SARS. Why oh why? I think my head cold has migrated into my chest. It sounds like I've been smoking for the last thirty years, christ, I sound like Bea Arthur.

The storm has broke, sun breaking through this cloudy headed me...too long to be sick in the summer...the weather and my heavy head conspiring against me, trying to take me down. Walking around yesterday felt like I was drunk...half gone on cold medicine...on top of just feeling weird to be walking around the living dead that inhabit this part of the world. God, I mst leave, must find a home in Baltimore...which brings me to my next point...will be in Charm City from Thursday til Monday...doing apartment stuff...hpoefully some drinking and meeting with my Thesis chair...hooray...the semester has started already for me...

I feel that I cannot be...well I dunno...staying at my mom's place is driving me nuts...constantly aggravated...need to get out...get away...bah. I'm tired, so tired since then end of Upward Bound...been sleeping at the weirdest times...just passing out in the middle of the day...just losing consciousness...just letting go, letting the death grip ease a bit...falling, sliding, sleeping...though never good sleep, this cold is giving me mad sleep nights...no fun, no rest, just playing at rest...anyway...I am off.

Yeah, I am really not too sure what day this is. I know it's Sunday but am unsure beyond that. Upward Bound is over. I am still in a daze...afflicted with a head cold that makes me want to cry. I am sick, can't breath, can't eat, can't ride. Fuck me. Spent most of the Friday after the program in a hangover haze. Some how I managed to move out, thanks to the generous nature of others and managed to keep composed through my last duties as a staff member for this summer. Amazing what a person can do.

Now for the next thing. Baltimore, I am on the horizon.

So this is it. Seven weeks in seven seconds...the end is near, the end is here. Holy shit, did I sleep through this all, do I remember anything at all...holy shit. After tomorrow my summer is changed, wholly changed, wholly different. The gears shift, change is in the air...soon back to Baltimore, soon back to school, soon back to sleep...oh sweet temptress, sleep. I should join her now. ...til that day

I can't sleep. I don't know why. It is nights like this that haunt me, taunt me. The shadows of thousands of things just on the horizon...a million shadowy pixels reminding me of all that is just around the bend...all that I must do, can not, not do. These nights are like drowning, trying to turn it off, drown the noise with music or words...these words...pouring the mess from my head to anywhere else...trying to clear the air inside...to silence the noise...so I can sleep.

A beautiful windwhirly day here in Frostburg...loverly...

So, on this day in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and seventy nine I was born. Some shit huh? Getting to the point where birthdays seem to be just another day. I remember when birthdays were something amazing and wonderful to look forward to for the entire month of July...now, hell...just snuck up on me. Don't feel so bad about being this old me. Growing into my years...wearing them more proudly...anyway.

Oi. Am back ...Boston was a blur, again. More words, me, later.

Now sleep, sweetest daytime slumber.

Will be in Boston until Thu., 7.24. Peace out.

Tonight is nothing seen. A stranger inside my skin. Just watching, a feeling almost there. It is the night, this is what it does to me. Removes me from everything, myself most of all, just blending into the darkness..the night, alone, very lonely...supremely lonely. Cold, lonely. No consolation on this darknight. The yellow phosphourescence of the sodium lights make pretty pictures in my periphery but still no solace in them, they are dead, inanimate. I am too, on this night. Cold, a construction of parts for a purpose, though I wish my purpose were as clear, I wish it was as simple as the light source standing stoic outside the window.

On nights like this I have flashes of how things were, could be, should be. I have flashes, bright, colored by the time since they were formed...nights with others, past. I can see people, feel their freedom on nights like this, when they are not inanimate, but alive, alive and together. I remember, see. But, left now strangely sad. Am I doing this on purpose, sadness encroaching quickly. Move from this, run from this. Am torn, again, and forever. Is ok. Everything's ok. No other way. Been fighting off something all summer. Been fighting always. Always.

It's dark here, again. Today has melted away. Am soon going to Boston, again. It will be fun, no doubt. Is a great city...the kids will dig it. Beautiful music in my ears...ahhh...

The air is cool tonight, all the day has evaporated into the atmosphere...like it never even happened. Like it vanished into thin air and all that's left is this cool humidity carressing my skin...tickling me, reminding me...of so much...so much to remember...so much that I swell with the responsibility to remember...threatening to burst at the pressure building...so much to do, I want to do it all, never cease, never rest...never stop. I can't stop, I fear the moment, fear the pause, worry that I will never start again...never stop.

Well, the elastic has finally snapped. The pace I've been setting for myself since the beginning of UB has finally caught up with me. I am wasted, tired. I fell asleep at 3pm yesterday, woke at 6.30 to the phone ringing bitched out my mom for calling so early in the morning only to realize that it was in the evening...fell back to sleep until 9 or so...then stayed up til like 1 am then slept til 2.30 pm today....is fucking gorgeous out...should be riding...but am weak, tired..will ride tomorrow. Crazy. Summer madness has set in....all upside down, spinning...blurry, the edges are gone, where will I fall, come to rest? Bah.

The morning, she's done well, grown into a wonderful life giving sun shine heavy day. Blue skies, hope. Warm skinned sun, summer, at best. Take your time and grow into something as beautiful.

Why is it that the morning is always so calm? As if the world is just too groggy to make a fuss this early in the morning...the sun too tired to shine bright, to busy to be bothered with warming us and keeping us alive, the air worn out from twisting us this way and that all the previous day to do anything substantial if the sun doesn't feel a need to work too hard...people too, walking, no talking, red eyed, alive (barely) forcing themselves into that great unknown, the next day, the next thing. This morning comes softly, not sharply, it comes like an old friend, we take our time this morning, together, letting it happen naturally, the day and myself waking in unison, rising together to create pretty pictures, but no too soon...for now is here, to be quiet and remember...I wrap myself in this morning, a comfortable blanket holding me just right...

Sometimes you just got to take a step away from that which once was...breaking ties, holding me back...my words...well, just an illusion...all that that once was is no longer, time to create anew, to build new bridges, to live. Here. Now.

I woke up this evening, very confused, not sure where or what day it was...thought I had slept through the night...waking at twilight, gray skyed 8.30 pm...man, took me a couple of minutes to realize that I didn't sleep all the way through...my head is on crooked tonight...too long is the day, stretching to the horizon, endless...

Nothing happens for a reason, ever. Is all a string of coincidences and random super ball bouncing careening from this to that. Stop trying to grab the ball, stop trying to rationalize everything into some sick 'oh it was('nt) meant to be...' thing...bah

I've got the fever tonight, to tell, to burn like a bright candle, shady shadows casting on all around the room...this is me tonight. A bright yellow flame, dancing so gently in the breeze, every now and then turning blue, burning brighter, a little more life, a little more oxygen, never burning out, never wasting too much energy, languid, here. Ahh...

New music tickling my ears, a soundtrack...a mix to the summer, a wonderful thing...the summer always makes its own sound, has its place in my mind via sound...this summer no different...a mix of squeeky passioned NYC something else, some great wonder and distress from across the pond, a mix of eanest anger and hope from Nebraska of all places and the angular pinpoint notes reminding me that all is not bright but that sometimes the dark is just as beautiful.

Is a strange thing, this night time glow...what is it about sitting in the dark lettin the world dissapear before sleep comes and does it thing, what is it that produces these words. Why do I write best in some silly dark room, either too hot or too cold, wearing some riduculous getup...playing at being someone who matters, who might have something to say to the rest of you...I dunno.

Is it Friday again, the freight train of time staring me down.

Something unsettling landed in my lap this morning at about 8 am. My mom, she got a job, at McDonald's, cleaning the fucking dining area, wiping fucking tables. She got the job they give to convicts, slow kids, and the elderly. My mother is none of these. She's got a fucking college degree, worked hard and went back to school after raising a kid all by herself...and get a fucking degree. Now this. Now this. I have the horrible thought that maybe she'll never make it, never have the life that she wants. Fuck. I don't know...this is why I can't be a fuck up all my life...to give something good back to her...to let her be happy, to rest, to do what she wants without worry for how much money is left at the end of the month...for her to do the art that she likes, for her to have fucking money for paint and canvas...not to fucking be just shy of 50, with a fucking college degree wiping the fucking tables at McDonalds. Fuck.

So this book thing that I'm writing certainly has some wonderful cathartic effect, some self-discovery thing going onsomething that I'm not sure where or how will end, but know that the journey is beautiful and long. Forever searching. Anyway. It's fucking hot in this box-room that I spend most of my time in during the summer, hot, like an oven, bricks baking, the wind only brings respite when it's damn good and ready, like an old man taking his time, because he knows things, he knows.

Morose warning...be forewarned...ok, have you ever pictured your own death, imagined what it would be like, feel like to die, any number of ways, strange artery of thought that sits way down deep, down near the base of my skull, my spinal cord, a primitive knowledge of what it feels like, is like to die, to feel the light go out, to know for that split second, that time that's too short to know except at that moment, that time when you realize you've died, it'll happen. Sorry.

Hi. How are you today, are you well, rested, happy, warm, alive? Or is it something else, something not quite there, not quite right, not quite anything, something vague, something else. Just treading water, knowing that if you were to stop, you'd sink...don't stop; trust me. Don't ever stop, never, ever give in, give up...fight. But you know, how this all spins to shape isn't the same for all involved, how we each see, well, is just for us...our way, my way, not yours. Not supposed to be either. Anyway.

The race, my race today...went, well...I didn't win...our (my team) strategy blew up in our faces...I was to go and set a high pace as long as possible and then on the first climb for me and another one or two strong riders to slip away...but I set too high a pace and ended up cracking all my teamates save for one...oh well...nothing like being the spearhead to a 40 mph train...it was fun...I was strong...probably the strongest in the race...but road racing...is really a team sport.

I hope all of you are having a splendid together time for the 4th today...kinda sad that I'm sitting here all alone as dusk wraps it cooling arms around me...I wanna see fireworks, I wanna be outside, drinking, laughing, eating, but...I'll stick with the choices made...always another time, adieu.

Mundane matters on my mind right now...the race on the 4th, am feeling very confident, happy to be racing, finally again, and that there will be a strong team showing...but am worried about my body...last couple days have been bad for me, not eating well...not digesting food...I think the fatigue, the lack of sleep, the stress of this job is wearing on my insides...but...should have a strong kick...should have that overdrive for the race...only 26 miles...so short, so fast...too little time to even worry about being sick...dig deep...hold on...

Life here is so surreal...this campus, this place, this time of the year...all madness and rushing through the week...then the weekend comes in slow drawn out melting dreams between bouts of unconsciousness...you wake, suddenly what was once daylight has bent into dusk and you wonder what fucking day it is...because the only thing, the only thing that has changed is the shade of the light coming through the window...you can be completely invisible here during the summer...a ghost through a green landscape...

And then there's this, sitting in the warm glowing darkness...it's a physical thing, you feel the night close in around you...all angles and and glinting electronic lights shining off of my hands tap tapping on the keyboard, on the weary eyed shimmer in the eyes, looking back from the mirror...I really dig this alone time after the kids are in bed, after the other T/C's have given themselves to the day, said their piece, gone separately to hold hands once again and attack the day with the same fervor as the last...but this time, this is just for me...my time to steal, to own something, some little bit of self, some irreducible, ill defined, this ( )...anyway...g'night.

Tired, agitated, ill at ease with my body...such a delicate thing this flesh is...no matter how hard we think we are, the smallest things have an effect...silly how important and enigmatic sleep is...anyway.

I've always been fond of beauty found by accident...when in the corner of your eye you notice something really wonderful...you find what you're looking for without even realizing that you were looking for it...so here is a list of some of the more compelling subject lines to emails between you (all) and I, myself...I really dig this:

pay no attention, it's the raindrops

eyelid heavy glow of exhaustion

life is a slaughterhouse...

1/2 removed, a quarter remembered

on the porch of today

a great flash of clarity between the eyes, burning...

wisdom comes suddenly

this together colored instant

late nights and the wafting smell of spring

singing the body electric

and I shambled after

And You Shall Know Our Velocity

Staying alive, kicking and screaming

time was, just for me

happiness comes tenderfooted

all downhill from here

You hairy little monkey

Another man lost to Ti

that was you I saw, there.

Is quite a call and response thing I've got going with some of you...dig.

So I don't even know who reads this bilge anymore...but for those of you who do, I thank you, I think...if something is taken away from these few mixmash words of mine I am thankful, hopeful even.

This first week at UB has been exhausting...seemed to stretch on to that never finding horizon...all an illusion...but the kids are home, the staff, doing whatever it is that they do in the real world (myself sitting alone in the dark writing, anyway) and recovering in preparation for this next week.

I'm in a weird mood, though I guess that's pretty typical...just once I'd like to be able to say definitively that I'm happy, hell I'd even like to deifinitively say that I'm pissed...anything, really....seems like I am always playing at just holding back, never all in, never a straight answer...even to myself...always self questioning...anyway...silly shit, I know.

I think what has got me zapped tonight is family history...been looking at old pictures of memories long since forgotten...like looking at pictures of someone else's family...except that weird resemblence...that recognition...that knowledge, deep down that those people in the pictures are the same as me...my Grandpa especially...I dunno...all my life passed in some kind of waking dream, never to be held on to, even if that were the thing to do...

Looks like life after this summer is going to progress nicely...on the cusp of a really decent new apartment deep down in the city with Tony and Joe, believe that, holy fuck. A year away from my Masters degree...growing up...doing it, without much help from myself...just watching it all happen, barely in control...acquiesing with myself...it has to be done...

Staying alive, kicking and screaming.

I am overwhelmed...time and time again I am wasted by the beauty I see around me...something incredible in the static drone of the water falling down to where ever it may be going...something wonderful about being at the top of the world...or as close as you can get to it and just watching the clouds cast shadows in the valley miles away...holy fuck...you know. Not just the inanimate that amazes me though...I learn more and more to raze this self....

What is this all about, god that one never will end...that question...tiniest victories when knowing that you are not alone in the way this world turns on and off...that your eyes are your own but that there is something that courses through the all of us...not sure what that is...but I know it's there...that unmistakeable rhythm...just listen for it...

Anyway...I must say adieu for now...am leaving for (vacation) in Pittsburgh all this coming week...will be back on Sat., 6.14. Much good to all.

My thoughts come to me in waves...barely breathing, swimmingly thinking, around and around and again...the night stretches on. Godamn I played that cd four or five times in a row last night, just thinking, staying alive, wondering...finally, without even knowing it, I let go and fell...sweetest slumber...only to be disturbed by that lounding beep beeping of the alarm clock...ah, well.

I am in much physical pain today...wrenched my fucking back yesterday...could hardly standup...but, of course will go out and flog myself a little more...what have I said...something nobel, something sublime in suffering for self knowledge...how hard can I push...how hard can I go...must always try to push that wall back and down a little more...trying to be free...mind and body...trying to be free. Anyway.

I feel really wordy tonight...am overcome with something almost, there...am just a wondering...person...oddly content...tired...physically spent...I hope some of you still read this...soon enough...will I ever know...is there something to know...unequivocally? Wonder.

I know I've been anything but consistent with my updates on here...I guess for that I am thankful. It is nice to have other stuff to do, you know instead of staring at a computer screen all day and night long...anyway.

I wonder, as usual. Pretty content right now...summer has already been very busy...as soon as I left Baltimore I began the flaying myself to the end of being able to ride a bike a little bit faster and longer than some other guy. I know, I know...seems like such a futile gesture, this suffering...I'll never be a pro...but some weird something inside that makes me push myself harder and harder...I love it.

The rain persists...not so bad I suppose to ride in the rain around here...better than in Baltimore...always afraid of being hit by some jackass in a car down there...or glass...glass everywhere in that fucking city...PAVE over it ....start fresh...anyway.

Been reading a book that is really fucking with my head. That Wally Lamb book...this much is true...somesuch...I keep phrasing the title wrong...phrasing it in my words...I do that alot...I wonder if people notice when I do that. Always spinning the top so that it makes sense to me.

Well, I think I ought to go play now. I will be around more and more this summer on here. Lot of down time in the office at UB...looking forward to that...next week in Pgh. Hoorah. I bid you fare the well, for now...

So...there you are...been a while, no? Anyway...so what is of note in this little life...

Winding down days here in Balto...soon back to the Burg for another summer in bliss and yet another 7 week experiment in sleep deprivation and good humored exasperation...you know...Upward Bound...where I get to shape young minds and get paid to do the only job I've ever liked...hooray, and such...

This semester, in hindsight...God, I am glad to be back...back in school..back in Psychology...only a year away from a Master's degree...to think how close I came to screwing this all up...

I've learned to accept the niche I've carved out for myself here...I ws too worried the first time round that I wasn't like all the other students, all seriousness and reverent for the hallowed graduate education...I do what I can...take everything in stride and realize that I am, and will always be just left of center, just irreverent...just me...

So I raced a crit for the first time ever...it sucked big nuts...cornering in a pack of 50 wannabe Lance dentists is scary...but I learned alot...I learned that if attacking from somewhere closer to the front of the field I can make it stick...I had better legs...more power...til next time...at least I didn't get pulled...

goodbye, hello...my friends...

There's a weird thing about me. It seems that I am full of shit, er that I am percieved as full of shit. I'm not really, you can trust me...Anyway, I do think I play that role when I am nervous and around people...which is more often than not. It's easy to play that asshole role, everything off the cuff, nothing too serious, you're not culpable for anything...it just a big joke. But, I worry, I do.

I used to be a crusader, I used to care---a lot, about a lot of stuff. I could say unequivocally that some things were very important and that you should fight, fight, to make things right. I worry now that I don't believe that anymore. As soon as I start to look at something from one point of view all become askewed, hazy, muddied.

I've never been a "linear thinker"...always when trying to get from thought A to thought B I get distracted, rather, I see A and B from above in the context of thoughts C, D, E, F, and so on...I can't just see the straight line...there is more of a spiderweb of interconnected bits and pieces that eventually all lead together...er, that all begin together when I wake in the morning...and the diverge, but still all held together in a mad dance of this and that...think of it as a heuristic approach. Anyway.

My god what a whilrwind tour of the east coast. Can't believe that we actually managed to drive to and from Boston from Baltimore and survive to forget about it. Was a mad adventure including lots of stuff. Too much to boil down to mere words.

Am in a weird way. Good, silly good, am upbeat, moved, invigorated but am unable to put words to what is the cause...why am I well? Have to know cause of good or bad...have to nourish that self refliective self...not a mere automaton...must know the ephemera within...anyway. Much good to all who read this silly little thing.

I have returned, so to speak, though these days never sure of where I am coming from or going to. Haven't been able to relax, settle down, balh, blah lately...all a mad rush at living. I live on a couch for chissakes. Anyway.

Saw some great music (so to speak) last night. Interpol at the Recher. Certain sound, so compelling. Listen to their album.

Alright, so er, uh...well seems like I am getting my money but may take up to three weeks to get in hand...that is not good. My relations with my landlady are already Muslim-Jew thin....er, I'm just a touch fucked. Anyhoo.

So, here I sit in Towson....in the computer lab at school...I guess this is all real...though feels surely unreal...still a little nervous...you know about money and such...the finaid is in that magical place between the government and me...where it is just an idea...a code and some numbers on a computer screen...but I somewhat sure that is will be real...and in my hands within a weeks or so.

Not too much to report really...just doing my thing down here...training...school....lots of coffee...and the new Dave Eggers book, You Shall Know Our Velocity...you should all read it...so, adios for now...


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