she woke up first. before i knew it she was dressed and ready to kill that damn elliptical machine—and she did.

i staggered behind with grumbling-contempt; anything less would have been out of character.

walking out of the bathroom—toothbrush in mouth—i saw buster peaking out from under the covers.

content to only catch a peek of the nonsense going on so early on a saturday morning, he would wait for the clang of his food bowl and rattle of the can opener to commit to an early morning wake-up call.

these two are what make my life such an amazing place and when they do the things that are simply “them” i feel the most at home.

there were so many times this weekend that i would look over at her and find myself needing to catch my breath; sitting on the couch, hair twirling around her finger, buster safe-and-warm in her lap.

this is my waking life and i have no idea what i’ve done to be so damn lucky.

[image via @yesisaworld]

his name is J.L. Carter.

he was born in a small farm town bordering the even smaller town of norman, oklahoma.

as the universe would have it, he is my namesake, my lineage and my best link to the past.

he has seen more in his lifetime than i could ever imagine to experience and has done so with more class than i could ever hope for myself.

looking back on my life, he was one of my earliest heroes.

you see, from the start he and i were the best of buddies and tonight i was reminded that we still are.

on those ubiquitous-sunday-morning drives to church, he would play songs from his 8-track player and mesmerize me with stories of times past.

keep in mind, that i refused to let him go anywhere without me. my baby sister could find her way to church with my grandma; i was going to ride with the man of the house.

the short run from the front door of their humble porch to the driver side of his green & white ’77 chevy cheyenne was inconsequential. (i had timed myself numerous times and no one could best me.)

him in the driver seat, me standing on the bench by his side, my arm around his neck, together we drove.

the music seemed larger than life.

[See post to listen to audio]

i remember listening to this song and i can almost feel his truck’s rough bench cloth seat and remember the smell of his aftershave; i squint to see the road signs ahead while the sun shines in our faces on Highway 58.

we pull up through the church’s tortuous gravel parking lot and i hop out. we’re here and there’s work to be done before everyone else arrives…but the drive was good…

…25 years later it still is.

sometimes, cupid’s arrow feels like a painful shot right in the testes (or ovaries depending on your preferred reading gender).

i kinda feel like this video courtesy of veronica who found this from some kid on the internet.

for the official-2008-vday-record, i’m feeling happy, smiley, confused, regretful, amazed, concerned, hopeful and introspective. each adjective has its home somewhere in my head and that’s gotta be a scary fuck place to hang out.

“…i mean, you crush me.”

“…it was good—as good goes.”
[See post to listen to audio]

i cant tell you how many blog posts a person encounters while shopping on the 14th of Feb. even though i was prepared for the day’s festivities, i somehow found myself at a few local shoppes and couldnt help but notice the desperate looks of panic, fear and dread on the faces of my fellow shoppers.

dude, i’ve never been so happy to ONLY be shopping for a good deal on *toilet paper on Feb 14th.

so here are some old valentine’s day posts from the rusty/dusty/crusty onelonelysuccess archives:

if you’re a.) depressed, then read the archives from 2005

“if you love something give it away”

if you’re b.) happy and heart someone, then read the archives from 2006

“how i became a cheap bastard”

dude, there’s nothing better than citing one’s own blog on val’s day. if you’re reading this post, then happy valentine’s day and we here wish you nothing but:

PEACE

and

LOVE

but

especially

PEACE.

——–

*it was a good thing i bought a bunch of TP b/c buster decided that it would be ACE to tear into the aforementioned necessity and make valentine’s day confetti out of it.

[See post to listen to audio]

“…well, i had just gotten the book, sir…one of the boys gave it to me on the train, and the title of the book was called ‘poems that touch the heart“…i read one in particular called ‘should you go first‘ it was beautiful.”Elvis Presely, 1968

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.

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)