stumbling my way through a digital life
“…when the smoke came out our mouths on all those hooded sweatshirt walks, we were a stroke of luck. we were a goldmine and they gutted us.” -Bright Eyes “Gold Mine Gutted”
so when i was only barely holding my self together, i had a friend who could do a once-around-the-room and change the fortunes of everyone in attendance.
she was brilliant; hers is a life bordering charm and innocence.
she was a goldmine and they gutted her.
against a swirling cloud of regret and hesitance she remembers how the linoleum floor felt against her face–cold, unfamiliar, and dirty.
each of these was a welcome addition to a night of squalor, and for a moment, the ground felt like heaven.
the repeating patterns of the faux flooring was like a warm blanket. desperately, her mind tried to reconcile the squares and diamonds that she had overlooked for years.
at first glance they appeared three-dimensional, but with a second-glance, they were simply a pattern of the boring life that had become her norm.
tonight this was her refuge…
her tent on a warm summer evening.
her parents’ bed after a bad dream.
her emptiness at the end of a dialtone.
in the morning the dirt and grime of a bathroom floor would seem repulsive, but tonight they were all together allies…best friends and compadres in the war against the bullshit.
never take for granted your bathroom floor.
tonight mystery was happy to be with her new friend; she would let the morning deal with itself.
hold your glass high brothers and sisters as we drink to those we’ve left behind…
and i was the unknown hipster band whose cd you bought because you heard one lousy cover tune that made you smile. a friend told you about the way i sung an old favorite tune and you were intent on experiencing me. trouble is that you werent ready for the whole show…but neither was i…and so maybe that’s why we’re perfect together.
once i was the one who wrote about mystery and her lover and about julia and her tormented soul. once i promised you a world you had never seen and one that i knew didnt exist. once i believed in love without limits without pain and without definition, but now i’m just jeff. so what more do you want?
so i’ll just step outside and think this all over before i let it get to my head because i’m heavy with thoughts of the dead and the lofty highs that i’ve missed since the last time i said goodbye to the dearly departed.
julia awoke early this morning. it was barely dawn when sleep betrayed her, leaving her alone in the early hours just before dawn. she had quickly learned to despise the sunrise and you would too if you were trapped in her mind and were sentenced to face the reality that had become her life.
she had been seeing him for a little over five years. he said that he’d never been so happy, but julia lived with the fear that one day he’d realize that he was in love with a girl who wanted to give him so much more than she was capable of giving.
she remembered the morning that he walked into her bedroom and kissed her forehead. “you said we had never seen a sunrise together. come with me, because the morning is waiting for us.”
julia shook off sleep–still drunk from a night of tears.
she followed him as he led her outside to the patio they once shared. the sun peaked above the sunrise as he asked, “isn’t it beautiful, baby?” she was too busy looking at him basking in the light of the new morning to see anything but his face.
“yes, sweetheart, it is. let’s stay here forever”, she replied.
he stood awkwardly for a moment before thanking her for the letter she had conspicuously left on his doorstep the night before…the very letter that had led to the morning’s events.
with nothing more than a smile and a tear he was walking away.
julia pleaded, “please don’t go. the moment has passed us by too quickly.”
“we’ve had the sweetest of lives together, but you’ve chosen a life without me and i can’t go back” he replied.
his resolve was what had first attracted her to him and now it had quickly become the force that had driven them apart, the very knife lodged in her heart, the taunting period at the end of their life’s story.
and this is why julia had learned to hate the morning…
julia sits outside under a calming sky, damien rice is drifting through the air as only the bravest of crickets begin their twilight serenade.
things are right in her world and it’s all starting to slow to a pace that she can comprehend.
the traffic jam of thoughts are clearing up and the spectators are going home for the night.
when things are this clear she finds herself the most confused.
she battles against self and reaches helplessly for the only comfort within reach.
julia sits alone in the darkness and dreams. it’s four in the morning and the stench of vomit is fresh in her mouth and the last thing she wants to do is hear his platitudes. he cleared his conscious and he felt perfect like the setting sun, like a lonely boy playing his innocent game.
“you feel so alive, so free of conscious, and free of guilt as if you’ve never loved before. so is that all you have to say? You know this helpless romantic is hanging on your every word.”, she pleads.
the bitterness rises up in her mouth and she thinks of how they meant so much to each other. but this is easier for him now and she fears the verse and the chorus and the bridge and she holds on tight as she looks down at her ash covered body and wonders what he must think of her.
“When you feel your fingers on his body, think of me and then hold tight to your rosary because i’ll be there with you, waiting for your blessing, waiting for your atonement and waiting for your pardon from purgatory. i pray to jesus and to the saints and to the foreign gods that betray me that this lone prayer may reach you.”
she realizes that if this bond can’t hold them together, then nothing could and the vows of humanity and of self-worth fall wasteful on a shore of lies.
and julia is shivering because it is night and she is naked, wondering where he could be found. but the darkness beckons and it feels so wonderfully peaceful to her, free from hurt and wonderfully calm.
…and julia shook as she awoke—alone.
some may be dissapointed that it’s not a beautiful, sunny socal day.
instead, there’s a uniform blanket of grey clouds draped over the sky.
it would be inaccurate to say that it is rainy–some would say it’s misty.
it’s a nice change to finally have the weather agree with your mood.
no condecending sun mocking you for being sad or taunting you to go outside when all you want to do is hide under the blankets.
i sat outside for a while and it’s completely calm. there’s hardly a breeze and the mist is falling silently.
i’m going to enjoy this perfectly beautiful weather on an otherwise imperfect day.
mystery was sitting at a lonely table in the back of the bar, as she felt him walk through the door.
he was here and completely perfect for her.
she remembered his face and recalled how beautiful her lips felt when she would whisper his name.
he had disappeared so long ago, slipping away into the night and insisting that it was for the best.
She had wasted so many nights waiting to live and too often, just wanting to die.
but in a moment of fate and of shame, she would flee to her story in the night, a picture perfect recreation of what she wanted for herself.
She squeezed his hand and hoped for a response, but he wasn’t listening to a word, she was saying, only day dreaming of another life. She could never have enough of him, but she feared that he had plenty of her.
“afterall, what good is a life of shame?”, he consoled her.
She hid the tears in her eyes and she smiled the phoney smile that they had taught her. She was so convincing, complete with a toss of her hair and christian-smirk that would have made the pope blush.
She would show him how beautiful they could be together, how perfect life could find itself, but in between profound thoughts, she heard, “goodbye, mystery” as his nightly fling dragged him to the bar room door. She didn’t answer, but only looked away as his heart lurched forward, longing to beat with hers.
“Goodnight”, she said under her breath, and another night came to a spectacular fucking end.
i don’t think jesus is going to celebrate easter this year.
at the end of the day, the world is plagued with tragedy and death and jesus is sitting at his big desk in the sky wondering how all of this got started. he most definitely is not in a celebratory mood. he’s hearing the rumblings of the self-righteous using his name to sell t-shirts, propogate an agenda, inflict hate and even wage wars. he’s shaking his head at all the believers who want to celebrate and pretend that they’ve somehow got the answer, when in reality they don’t even know the question.
he’s still reeling with guilt over the 175,000 souls who died in a grand display of god’s power the day after christmas, and he’s understandibly in no mood to celebrate. instead he wishes we would just take care of each other and leave him out of it.
julia watched the rain fall to the ground from her kitchen window. she closed her eyes and took a slow deep breath to remember…
it had been nearly a year since she had seen him but she could still recall the smell of his cologne, the sound of his voice and the taste of his lips. she would fight the temptation to call him. resist the urge to see him. forbid herself from smiling at the thought of his smile. he was so good to her and she was perfect for him. if each of has a soul, then hers was meant for him and his for her. he had taught her about true love, about giving yourself completely and about being utterly alone. when he left she cried like no one else ever had.
…as she exhaled and opened her eyes, she whispered, “baby don’t go away.” the rain had paused and in the deafening silence she knew what had to be done.
it’s strange how your mind can feel so empty while your heart feels so heavy.
an old billy idol song plays across the radio. “…a nice day for a white wedding…” and then you remember to take a breath. “…a nice day to start again…”
sometimes you can feel so much, that you begin to feel numb and other times you find yourself acutely aware of everything around you. the hard plastic chair you’re sitting on. the soft cotton sweatshirt against your skin. your hair shifting in the wind. the cheap round pen in your hand. and you remember that you are alive and that you are awake.
everything is moving in concert with one another and what once appeared completely random now seems beautifully in sync.
outside his house there was a sprawling tree, aged and full of life.
it held its branches high in a testament to a lifetime of faithful service.
as the winter breeze blew bitterly against his face, the leaves rustled ever so slightly.
he would sit for hours and admire it for its persistance and dedication.
it had been here as long as anyone could remember and never failed to follow through with its appointed task.
in the fall its leaves faded, fell to the ground, and gave way to the season.
winter had brought the cold and the rain, but it was unphased.
springtime would be here soon and the warm sun would bring new life and soon it would flourish again and this gave him hope.
he often wished he could have been this tree.
never waivering.
never offending.
never crying.
never making others cry.
surviving all of life’s trials.
he wished he could recreate himself in the springtime, shed his skin and be alive again.
as he sat staring, he glanced over and saw mystery standing in the shadows.
he tried to speak, but she was gone and he was alone again…wishing he was his dreaming tree.
last night i hung out with the nelson’s.
those kids really are alright. we enjoyed some mirassou and rented “ghost world”. i’d never seen ghost world, but knew that i couldnt go wrong with a scarlet johansson flick.
wasnt disappointed at all with the film and the whole “not fitting in” theme really hit home for a couple of us in the crowd…and scarlet’s voice is still incredible.
tonight im putting the finishing touches/revisions on a paper that im submitting this week for publication. writing up a science paper is so different that any other kind of writing.
understand that science progresses because of peer-reviewed literature and retains its objectivity by stripping out any emotion or subjectivity from the author. while this lends itself beautifully to science it personally kills every creative bone in my body. when im working on this kind of material i just cant seem to switch gears back into the kind of writing that frees my mind.
luckily, i have an incredible side-project going on right now that will be unveiled in the next couple of days. ive been working with an artist/friend who has given me a mental escape from science, the lab and life.
i cant imagine a healthier way to balance out my time.
julia was nicer than most.
while others wore their masks, her smile was genuine.
often she felt cheated because her life was so good, so happy.
there wasnt any torment in her world today or in her past.
her life was beautiful and she found it hard to relate to those who had experienced pain and sadness.
her direction was sure, but soon she would meet him and he would show her things she had only seen in the movies or read in books.
he would take her away from this town and from her peaceful life.
he would show her how unfair life could be by destroying her preconceived notions.
he would wake her up to the moment.
she was waiting for her stranger, when he walked into the bar.
the moon was flirting with the clouds as the cold air blew across his face.
smoke was hanging effortlessly against the harsh porch light.
it was getting colder–and she was right–he should have brought his jacket.
but when he walked in, the air was warm and inviting as Mystery pulled up her chair.
“dont make fun,” he insisted. and she smiled back at him…completely in the moment.
her tattered jeans were emblazoned with the scars of her work.
colors were meshed together in a disharmonious testimony to her passion.
her sleeveless shirt crumpled against her thinning body.
she hummed a familiar song about life and loneliness as she saw him through the window.
“i missed you today” he said as he walked through the door.
his cologne filled the room and another night was about to begin.
it’s cooler tonight.
fans set to medium spin too quickly.
little lights twinkle through paper lanterns as gold tassles sway.
the chirping is in unison now, the sacred song of the sleeping.
peaceful and still.
it’s strange how smoothly it enters.
one deep breath followed by a slow exhale.
again in unison. chirp. chirp. chirp.
i’m trying to make tonight about everyone else.
the natural/unnatural brunette, the crystal-eyed girl down the street, it’s all about HER.
capital letters add so much, don’t they?
now i’ve caught a chill. these things never leave…so instead, i’ll remember them.
Part I: The Glorious Distraction (or so they say)
he was calmer than i expected. cool and collected he lowered the emotional bar. his eyes never looked away. they were steady and determined, fixed on mine. instead of fire and wrath he was gentle and forgiving. full of wisdom beyond his years, I could see why she loved him, why she married him.it was springtime when they met. nature was alive and they were the best of friends. he always felt awkward around her, but she was cool enough for both of them. they were young but very much in love, it was their only fault. their relationship was innocent, honest and pure. when they were married, their family and friends cried when they saw their love.i cried because he was calmer than i expected, cool and collected, full of wisdom beyond his years.
it was late when he saw her. the setting was serene and sterile. when he walked in, everything was as it should be. calm. quiet. black and white as it too often is. he felt confident but out of place maybe out of time. he was looking for his safety. then he saw her.”i’m glad you’re here”, she said.he fumbled against his awkward shoes which suddenly felt too big for his body.”this place is mad crazy”, she smiled.he nodded in agreement happy to be in the same space, in the same moment as her.”i can always count on you for a light, right?”he fumbled in his pocket looking for the perfect word. she pulled her hair back from her face as he looked into her eyes. it was her nervous habit and it was beautiful. she was the girl in purple, perfect for her surroundings and beyond the moment. the music played in his mind as she said, “…this is going to be a good night.”"let me introduce you to my friend. i think you would be perfect together.” her smile was reassuring and that brought him peace.i’m sure she was surprised at how late it was and he was happy that he found her here among friends. the rain was beating harder now and he was sure that they would be leaving together soon.as she listened to the rain she said, “we should get going, it’s getting late.” she put on her familiar gloves and as they left together they talked about the rain and it was beautiful.
terminal 2 feels cold and empty.
the sliding glass doors are wide open and winter’s chill is filling the room.
an asian man sells cigarettes to travelers needing a quick but costly fix.
an old man stares impatiently at the blinking flight screen.
he’s waiting for her.
she’s been gone too long; he didn’t think he’d miss her this much.
but now the laundry is piling up and he has no clean dishes left.
he’s tired of microwave dinners and cold cereal.
where is she? he really does miss her.
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