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the fine art of falling   
11:02am 30/11/2008
mood: sad
"I don't know what the fuck to expect out of life. Be selfish."

-Pat Mason

Pat was tall. Pat was gangly. Pat was goofy. Pat was talented. Pat was hilarious. I'd like to say he was unoffending and innocent, but its not entirely true haha.

But Pat was above all else was fun.

I still can't get over that word, "was." Merely putting him in the past tense brings tears to my eyes. After a whole year, it's still tough to believe he's gone. When a young person dies, its inevitable to think about what could have been. This is a poisonous train of thought I think. Instead, we should concentrate on what Patty offered to us all: weed

Ha! Jokes…

I'm kidding of course (although it is kinda true). But what Patty offered me that sticks out in my mind the most was hope. Hope that you could live your life on your own terms and make it work. Hope that life could be truly fun and carefree. You just really don't meet people like that very often. I don't at least.

My life has been a shithole much of the time since he died and I wish I could blaze up and bend his ear about jobs, breakups, housing, happiness, despair, bands, shows, friends, the lack thereof…

Anything I guess. I'd give anything to just be able to chat with him about whatever. He could always make me laugh and cheer me up. I've been living in San Francisco for so long that I got used to thinking of him in an "out of sight out of mind" mind-set. What a fucking waste. Oh that I could call him just to catch up! Sometimes I can trick myself into believing that it's still possible. Not a good idea cause I get real sad afterward.

Two words send shivers down my spine when I think about Pat: What if?

Just six little letters that truly haunt me. That kid had MASSIVE upside. His reign of awesomeness was only starting.

A note to Kat, Ethan, and Eileen, today you do not walk alone in your grieving. While you are Patty's blood, his family is numerous.

"May I now say a word to you, the members of the bereaved families? It is almost impossible to say anything that can console you at this difficult hour and remove the deep clouds of disappointment which are floating in your mental skies. But I hope you can find a little consolation from the universality of this experience. Death comes to every individual. There is an amazing democracy about death. It is not aristocracy for some of the people, but a democracy for all of the people. Kings die and beggars die; rich men and poor men die; old people die and young people die. Death comes to the innocent and it comes to the guilty. Death is the irreducible common denominator of all men."

-Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
     3 Brought A Knife To A Gun Fight

Talk Shit
Hell to pay   
11:32am 13/11/2008
Cheap lips, soft eyes, lost in the most blinding lights
As cold as those first nights alone
As the second best he'll become
Sleep deep, girl, dream well
That night, I think he cried himself to sleep
Just maybe, he felt more than we could ever know
And I think he pulled that trigger to empty that memory
I think he cut the weight to end the floods of you
Let him soar, let him ride as budding gravestones do
Just sleep, girl, just dream well


I tell you what kids; Jessica and I have been broken up for I don't even know how long (it feels like forever), a few months i guess. But I tell you what, you know what I miss the most? I miss the freckle on her lip that hardly anyone ever notices. I miss the way she sleeps with her mouth just slightly open. I miss the silly little dance she does when she's giddy. I miss the way she talks to the cats.

I miss the little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. The ones that made her my girl. That what made me feel like she was my soul mate. And believe me, she has the dirt on me too. Little things I do out of habit. People call these things imperfections but they're really not. Its just who we are. I cherished those character foibles and the fact that she put her guard down enough to let me into her world meant a ton to me. Life is a beautiful thing because we get to choose who we let into each of our own bizarre little worlds. Lord knows I'm not perfect and I'll do you all a favor and let you in on a secret: nobody is.

The real question is, "are you perfect for each other?" I honestly thought we were. And sure, maybe I was wrong. But the only way you can truly know for sure is if you give it a shot. Even though I hurt right now I'm not sorry for anything. Believe you me, you'll have your bad times just like I am right now. I like to think that its a wake up call to the good stuff you weren't paying attention to. You can fail, as long as you're trying hard. But there's nothing worse than regret. We gave it a good shot and for most of almost seven years it worked out pretty fucking well. We lasted longer than either of my parent's two marriages. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not haha.

I know I've pissed and moaned a lot on here about how shitty I feel about the whole thing and how wronged I've been but in all honesty: it was still worth it. At some point, and I freely admit that I totally missed it whenever it is that it happened, her feelings about me changed. That's her right as a human being, to live her life however she sees fit. Its just harder to reconcile that with how I still feel than I thought it would be. Come to think of it, I don't know how I thought it would be. I guess when you're in love you just don't think about these things.

I don't really know where I'm going with this but it just feels good to get it down. You know? I haven't been writing as much and its good therapy. Now every time I get frustrated I can read this and say to myself, "take it easy mike. You're gonna be ok."

Even if i kinda don't buy it.
     3 Brought A Knife To A Gun Fight

Talk Shit
02:54am 13/11/2008
  anyone know wthat the middle part means?

"Let us die, Let us die
Then dying we reply,
oh dont you tell us
about your suffering,
now look in our eyes-
look in our eyes.
Let us be, Let us be
Our closeness is such that
where ever she rests her head
in the softness underneath,
She'll feel me and you'll
feel me

Je leverai les yeux a toi-
J'ai change cent foi de nom
Je leverai les yeux a toi-
Je n'ai pas d'espoir.

When you laugh you'll feel
my breath there filling up
your lungs. And when you cry
those arent your tears but Im
there falling down your cheek.
And when you say you love him
taste me, Im like poison on
your tongue. But when your
tired, if your quiet, you'll
hear me singing you to sleep."

you know, the one not in english?
     1 Brought A Knife To A Gun Fight

Talk Shit
Crushed All Over Again   
10:01pm 22/10/2008
mood: guess
With haunted hearts through the heat and cold,
We never thought we could ever get old.
We thought we could sit forever in fun
But our chances really was a million to one.

-Bob Dylan

The bees were back. They were back and they were pissed. And yet, for some reason the boy was fairly calm. It had all started innocently enough: his little sister called to check in with him.

He told her about what his days were mostly like with the shit shoveling, the hauling, the phones calls for Mr. Obama, and most recently painting his cousins house. Then he eagerly asked how San Francisco was, for he dearly missed his home city in the bay. He missed the crisp autumn weather, the architecture, his friends (both the good ones and the fair-weather), his job, the bums shitting in the park, the shitty shitty hipsters and hippies, etc.

“Things were good,” she said. She had seen the woman he quixotically loved at a warehouse party of her friend. I asked her if it was uncomfortable at all and she told me it was not. They had always gotten along. Then she inquired about one of our friends that was at the party that creeped her out. He was standing with our group but he wouldn’t come over to her or talk to her. I asked her to describe the boy and when she did, she accidentally dropped a bomb on her brother.

He was the one. The one man the boy cared about her not seeing. This man had essentially destroyed that which was most precious to him: the absolute trust he and his love had forged in the fire of almost seven years of, blood, sweat, and tears. He had pleaded for her to spare his feeling and not see this one man but clearly she had blown him off.

It didn’t really hit him as hard as he expected. He was numb for the moment. After all, it was just another sign that this woman not only no longer loved him; she no longer cared to even to show him a shred of respect.

The boy had thought a lot about all the things that went wrong in the relationship he swore to himself he held more dear than anything in this life. Things that he was too blinded by complacency to see in time to save himself. He had been contented to a detriment. He had been negligent. He had been stagnant. He had been dull.

But two things the boy had always been were loyal and honest.

Silly boy.

That clearly didn’t count for anything. There was no hope for this. She hated his guts for reasons he couldn’t fathom. He even dared to believe it was entirely possible she didn’t know either. But one thing was clear; he had to stop being in contact with her as much as possible. This would be no easy task as the boy was neurotic and weak. His naggingly quixotic feelings about this woman had not gone away, his mind was just now beginning to try to override his heart.

He thought about the time a month ago when made a weak attempt at ending his life. He remembered the emotional pain, washing over him like a tidal wave: torrential, concussive, and unbearable. Thank god it was one more thing he failed at for he now saw the foolishness and selfishness of such an act. “No, not this time,” he thought.

Florida was working.
     1 Brought A Knife To A Gun Fight

Talk Shit
here goes nothing   
10:00pm 22/10/2008
  Dinner was incredible. They ate together for the first time what seemed like forever. It was a vegan feast. She was an incredible cook considering she hadn’t been cooking vegan for very long. It’s a misconception that vegan food is always bland. Using the correct spices, it’s actually quite capable of taking the palette to new heights. Suddenly he felt a poke at his leg. He ignored it, not even knowing where it came from. Again and again the poking continued getting more severe.

He woke up, head pounding. His uncle stood over him, “time to wake up,” he said. He sat up like some kind of robot and mechanically started to put the bedding away. He had been sleeping on the couch because the girl was sleeping in the bed. He didn’t care much, he had been homeless for sometime before coming out to Florida so he was used to couches. Plus, there was simply no way he was going to let a pretty girl sleep on a couch.

Chivalry wasn’t dead yet, he was keeping it on life support.

Speaking of the girl, she was still sleeping. “How come I have to get up,” he wondered to himself. It seemed and apt question as there was nothing crucial going on. His aunt made coffee but no breakfast. Usually it meant there was a foreclosed house to clean up for the bank but that was not the case this morning. Even though there didn’t seem to be any need for him to be awake, he was in their house and figured he had better do as they pleased.

After coffee he put on some work clothes and hit the stalls. There were only a few horses left because his aunt was suffering from fiber mialgae and therefore could not work as much as she used to. It simply hurt too much. He started as he always did: shoveling shit. He had done a ton of shit shoveling in his life. He family, though not well off, had actually owned a horse earlier in his life and had also sent he and his sister to a daycare that leased a ranch with about 20-25 horses. So he had a fair bit of experience doing menial tasks around ranches. He never asked to be paid for said work because of all the kindness they had shown him: housing him, feeding him, entertaining him, and humoring him.

After cleaning the stalls he relined them with sawdust and went inside to see if there was any paid work to do. There was so he left his now dirty clothes on, got another cup of coffee, and went into the bathroom. She was in there wearing nothing but a towel that barely clung to her still wet body. She was breathtakingly beautiful. He wanted her badly but things were too complicated to really make a move. Her counterpart was the extremely jealous type and he didn’t want to start drama in his aunt’s house. Not to mention, he was planning on leaving to Italy after the election in a little under a month. He figured she would probably stay as she had nowhere to go and maybe he could make something happen then. Maybe.

He and his uncle went to work. When they came back home his two new friends were working at their office and his aunt was sleeping. He felt really bad for her. She was in constant pain; she moaned reflexively all day cause she was in so much agony. She could have started a racket with all the drugs she was prescribed. Although the truth be told, not having health insurance almost certainly meant she was cutting corners with treatment because of cost. He took a shower as his uncle cooked up some hot dogs and Wisconsin sweet corn. He felt much better after finally eating.

He read until that giant ball of fire in the sky set. It was a breathtaking sunset, a sublime harmony of pinks, yellows, and oranges splashed against the clouds. He watched it set the earth on fire and waited for night to come.

Night indeed came and he found himself staring at up at the moon, now only fifty percent of its former glory, wondering if she was staring at the same thing 3,000 miles away. The answer was almost certainly a “no” for any variety of reasons, most of which he would just as soon not think about. He idly wondered if he would dream the same dream. Disturbed by both the lack of answer and why the hell he would even think about something like that, he crushed out his cigarette and went inside. He made the bed, laid down, and closed his eyes.

“Here goes nothing.”
     Talk Shit