all these little fragments of a life real and imagined, of writing and the joy of it, of loose talk and even looser words, of half thoughts, half scenes, of couples on the rocks, of lovers on the mend, of gangsters and killers and clowns as children, of angst ridden poets, all of you, some shattered whole, some cracked mosaic, and i am happy in that, to have found you again my dear, dear old friend. you never did abandon me, and i had thought i could go on without you.
Category Archives: internals
thoughts, musings, life, etc
ever go away
and there are times when the skin is so thin and so real that i rake it over and over to get at what’s inside, to peel it off and see what’s inside, to separate the meat from the bone to feel what’s inside and all i find in myself are maggots and shit and despair like some new tomorrow will never come, like all the world’s roses are perched thorns out from under my chin, like the pressure in my head will never abate, will never grow tired, will never grow old, will never ever go.
to write ceaselessly
to write it ceaselessly, endlessly, until it all goes away, the fragrance of it, the scratch of it, to reduce it all to the trace of a lost thought, something that can fit snugly in the back of the throat where not even the nimblest of fingers can get it. where you will write over it, ceaslessly, endlessly, until it’s all noise, like the way it was before, like the way it was before you were found.
hair and beard
i said to her, yeah ok, the hair i can understand. it’s a bit much, even for me. but, the beard, no. i need the beard. i’m grieving, i need the beard to cover my face.
i turned away, my eyes welled up too quickly, i hadnt expected it, so sudden, so raw. i had to not look at anything.
what? she said, touching my arm, what is it? what is it?
how do i tell her, i dont know, i still dont know where all the pain comes from, all this fucking sorrow.
it’s truly amazing
it’s truly amazing what people can get away with, he said, putting out the cigarette. what’s funny, and completely absurd, is what they convince themselves they can get away with.
he looks dead at you. but you my friend, you can’t get away with shit.
it's truly amazing
it’s truly amazing what people can get away with, he said, putting out the cigarette. what’s funny, and completely absurd, is what they convince themselves they can get away with.
he looks dead at you. but you my friend, you can’t get away with shit.
christening toast
thank you all for coming, etc, etc.
children are amazing. when i first met christina, i think i scared her witless. i mean she cried for days. maria told me not to take it personally. but i knew better. christina was going to be tough nut to crack. so it’s been going like this for about a year now, we’d see maria and john and the girls and right on cue, christina starts bawling. until recently, her father was putting something together, and i was helping him, and christina just stumbles out, stepping all over me, starts helping us too. next thing you know, she takes me by the hand, by the finger actually, and starts pulling me around. showing me off, like, “hey everybody, look at my clown!”
there’s something of her grandfather, john’s father, in her. this defiance. this stalwart determination to have things on her terms. that’s how i remember John’s father. God, he was a brick of a man. he was full of history and laughter. and he always took me seriously. when i met my then future wife, he took us out for breakfast to size her up. he told me not to play games with this one. obviously he approved. and he always had this godfather-esque air about him. So you can imagine the irony, and the absolute delight I feel, when John and Maria asked US to be Christina’s godparents. look at her. god, those eyes, aren’t they something? With 2 other girls, John’s already in trouble, but the eyes on this one. He’s going to need my help too. and we are completely willing, it would be our honor.
Maria, John, I cannot tell you what a privilege it truly is, to bring our families even closer like this, through the christening of your daughter and in the memory of your father. I still miss his laughter but i can almost hear it again, in Christina’s own.
Na mas zeesee!
what do you want to be when you grow up?
I asked the little one what she wanted to be when she grew up.
She thought about it. “I wanna be a princess and a fire engine”
“you must mean a fireman, err, a firefighter.”
she shakes her head, “no a fire engine.”
“with ladders and sirens and hoses?”
she nods her head, “yeah!”
my own hate
people get confused. they think that when i say, “my hatred is my own,” they think i hate myself, that i’m talking about self hatred. but you’re wrong, so very wrong. i hate you. truly i do, i hate you all.
and i’ve worked very hard to keep it safe. i’ll never let you see it. i’ll never let you own it. i will never give it to you. i will never give in, it is mine.
all this hate is mine.
the last time, rev.2
do you remember the last time?
this is the last time, don’t you remember?
what? no, not this time, but the time before.
will this be the last time you do this to me?
this is the last time you ask me that.
not since the last time have i felt this way
this is nothing like that. the last time was better.
bitter? did you say you were bitter last time?
that’s not what i said. this is exactly what i am talking about.
what are you talking about? what are you talking about?
this is not going to be like last time.
yeah, you better believe it won’t be.
oh come on. don’t be like that
does it matter? it doesn’t fucking matter.
yes it does. one last time. please.
do you even remember the last time?
no, of course not. not at all. it’s all a blur.
i can’t believe you. how could you say that?
i’ve heard this all before.
i hate you.
yeah, that wouldn’t be the first time either.