im feeling cute this morning. dont ruin that, goddammit.
"so much to say/ theres so much/ to say"
i am two sore feet supporting two hundred (plus) tired bones and two black holes called "hazel" now, where they used to be "just brown." i am two hours a victim of Sleep and now wide awake (why are we doing this?) i am hardly two meals in my gut, dropped like pebbles down my well. bottomless.
i am fully recovered... no, never even bothered, and for the first time i am saying to myself "i dont have time for a girlfriend." i have the music director possition at the radio station, school, my band, recording, cd sleeves and packaging to design and make, work, houses to hunt, trips to plan and pay for, et al. im a busy body.
but goddammit, she's pretty.
------------------------------
the names have been changed to protect thee.
i've lost track of my days now. i dont know if it was last night or the night before. i dont know if i remembered my dream this morning, or last. but either way, sometime this week (yes? yes, i am certain it was this week, at least) i had a dream i was moving in for the season. and an echo from freshman year of college showed up at my doorstep. an echo i knew for three years, crushed on for four, and acted upon only when it was obvious she intended to stay the night. the week (yes?) whatever. (and "how 'bout those cleveland indians?")
back to the dream: she shows up, offers me a place to stay. she was familiar. bright blue eyes. small teeth. tip of tongue pressed to the gap, like always, when her smile cracked.
she was so easy to hold. just hard to hold on to.
i am the jealous type
------------------------------
statistics tell me something like one out of six. so i wont call her anymore.
------------------------------
speaking of which, in both cases, neither of which i will clarify for you, i saw him today. the one with the snub. i gave him only one word. hey stephen, how are you. working.
"chump," you hear a voice spit in the cap'n jazz cd. its in there. puddlesplashers. its for real. its for you. fucker.
------------------------------
T-minus eight hours to lift off.
eight hours til the green light on my trip out to marietta. yes, friends and neighbors, i will be in your neck of the woods. for several hours, for 12-strings, for high fives. 49531, one can only hope, but "the ripped ones never collide," so i should keep that investment nestled. unspoken. and let it fizzle out elsewhere, away from the prying eyes.
math is everywhere. forget the M words. lets speak in silent letters.
the hunt for the magic eeeee.
-----------------------------
homework has been a much neglected item on my agenda this week. procrastination is five bullets in a six-shooter chamber. my shoe is all velcro and second hand smoke.
youre shooting yourself in the foot doub fuck
oh christ. i cant even spell "dumb fuck."
-----------------------------
i remember silent letters in kindergarden. the letter K. i was the only one that knew. Ms green (was it green with an e on the end?) was impressed. and it was just this evening that i saw Mrs Hall at work. a first grade teacher that worked with my mom at the same school. i wanted to tell her how ashamed i had been that time dylan and i stole candy from her jar after school. prepared the speech. the casual way to bring it up when she came to my register. how to NOT be awkward. but i said nothing. rang up her husband's belt. fifteen-nintynine. twentyfive percent off. check. can i see your license. thanks. i'll tell her you said hello. have a good night.
they were reeses pieces. the little peanut butter cups. dylan took probably five. it was his idea. i came along for the ride. and took one. maybe two. and had to apologize in the morning, because dylan's mom asked him where the candy came from. she worked in the class room right next to Mrs Halls. his mom was my first grade teacher. and my middle brother's. now my youngest brother is in first grade. he has someone else. he had to read me a story last night. and i had to write a note saying he read it:
3.21.2k2
if danny seems a little worn out today its because he had a long night. this evening he was playing in the backyard and was captured by the spanish armada. in exchange for three barrels of salted meat, he was traded to pirates (the peg-leg, patch-eyed kind, not the baseball team.) he made his way across the atlantic-- swabbing the deck and whatnot-- finally siezing his chance to escape by jumping ship in a brittish port. crawling ashore, danny applied to work at a leather-tanning factory to pay his way back to america. however, danny saved his employer from choking to death on a Raisenette and his boss offered to fly him back to the states personally. arriving in new york, where his boss had to meet his leather-tanning associates-- danny got a job selling newspapers. a strong work ethic earned him a promotion to a bike route, where it was soon discovered that he had one heck of an arm. danny traded in pitching newspapers for pitching baseballs. Immediately, he was picked up by the Mets and later traded to the Pirates, of all teams (the baseball team, not the peg-leg, patch eyed kind.) danny pitched a shut-out final inning against the Dodgers in the world series which launched him into stardom. Paramount pictures backed his first movie (after much success doing sports drink commercials) but it was a flop. somewhat drifting into obscurity, he was the star of a poorly written sitcom, but he was beat out for the timeslot by (one of the two dozen) Wayans Brothers on the WB network. for a short period of time, danny did voice overs for Disney's pirates (of the carribean, not the baseball team or the peg-leg kid.) eventually, though, danny returned home a humble and modest six year old. in fact, he even took time out of his busy schedule last night to read me "baby rattlesnake." danny is very modest now, so dont be surprised if he pretends to know nothing of this story or refuses to sign autographs.
dont you already feel sorry for my kids? i cant wait! ive been taking notes from cliff huxtable and steve keaton. i want to be a fun dad. i want to make babies.
wherefore art thou Elise Keaton? Claire Huxtable?
----------------------------------
ridiculous, i am, shamelessly ridiculous.
"yes i am talking to you, and yes i know, this is shameless"
----------------------------------
and slingshot back to me. to her, rather. not her, but the other her. "thee" her. were we really so innocent? i never thought so, but im beginning to believe it.
----------------------------------
once upon a time i was talking about marietta: my friends, you live there. let me know if you want to do something. im not meeting bryan ducey until three. picking up nathan at the airport at five. eating at soul V around 7? any and all are welcome.
----------------------------------
right now im going to buy tofu and make more BBQ tofu sandwiches. nothing better than grocery shopping at 4:46 in the morning.
-------(fifteen minutes, tops)----
im back, just like that. lickitty-split. from the kroger i used to work at. fred at penneys knows cliff harris, the manager of that kroger, the man that yelled at me for asking a guy if he wanted help out with his groceries, prompting my swift resignation. oh how i tangent with the greatest of ease! anywho, fred and i talked about cliff, running a tight ship at publix, where fred also works, poor customer service at kroger. this that and the other thing. good times with fred. i havent palled around with him like that in the longest time.
today i also talked to dawn at work. shes the new girl. twentyeight. one daughter. on her second marriage according to alina, via word of mouth from leslie, but she didnt mention a first husband today, so im not sure thats true. alina seems to misinterpret certain things. like english, for instance. anywho, dawn calls fred "ferd." its funny. we talked about the hideous shirts and ties we are now selling (take a look for yourself... the hunt club shirts and ties at penneys... they are godawful... bright bright colors... look like they are made out of sherbert ice cream.) we also have these blue pants. not normal blue pants. no. bright blue. BRIGHT blue. i dont even know where this shade of blue comes from. it must have only recently been discovered. regardless of its origin,its not a shade you want on your body. or in your house. or in sight, in general.
dawn and i also laughed about the clothes we used to wear. music we used to listen to. jobs we used to have. movies we used to love. family. friends. it was a good conversation. i love my co-workers. we have fun.
---------------------------------
by the way, word of advice from dawn: never piss off folks at fast food restuarants. every rumor youve heard about spitting in food, or rubbing a burger on the ground, or wiping a bun across the bottom of a shoe... its all true.
---------------------------------
only this week did i finally figure out what Endora is. and lo'-and-behold, my brother lost that split seven inch on clear purple vinyl. im not happy about it.
---------------------------------
i want to write more, but im exhausted and still cooking BBQ tofu. why am i doing this at nearly six in the morning?
---------------------------------
"i think im going to close the store a few minutes early and watch the sunset." good for you mister adler. make alex p keaton stop what he's doing and watch the sunset with you. it would be good for him.
"eeeee," by the way, was secret code for matt nokleby and me. oh how i miss him. and those drives: the minivan drives of shame, thru every turn possible in lawrenceville, just to drive. to talk.
a question posed to my mother, at the age of three:
"mommy, does i miss you mean i love you?"
undoubtedly, the answer was yes.
i miss you, matt.
-------------------------------
math:
9.6 25.15.21 3.1.14 18.5.1.4 20.8.9.19 25.15.21 1.18.5 4.18.9.22.9.14.7 20.15.15 3.12.15.19.5
49531.
i am two sore feet supporting two hundred (plus) tired bones and two black holes called "hazel" now, where they used to be "just brown." i am two hours a victim of Sleep and now wide awake (why are we doing this?) i am hardly two meals in my gut, dropped like pebbles down my well. bottomless.
i am fully recovered... no, never even bothered, and for the first time i am saying to myself "i dont have time for a girlfriend." i have the music director possition at the radio station, school, my band, recording, cd sleeves and packaging to design and make, work, houses to hunt, trips to plan and pay for, et al. im a busy body.
but goddammit, she's pretty.
------------------------------
the names have been changed to protect thee.
i've lost track of my days now. i dont know if it was last night or the night before. i dont know if i remembered my dream this morning, or last. but either way, sometime this week (yes? yes, i am certain it was this week, at least) i had a dream i was moving in for the season. and an echo from freshman year of college showed up at my doorstep. an echo i knew for three years, crushed on for four, and acted upon only when it was obvious she intended to stay the night. the week (yes?) whatever. (and "how 'bout those cleveland indians?")
back to the dream: she shows up, offers me a place to stay. she was familiar. bright blue eyes. small teeth. tip of tongue pressed to the gap, like always, when her smile cracked.
she was so easy to hold. just hard to hold on to.
i am the jealous type
------------------------------
statistics tell me something like one out of six. so i wont call her anymore.
------------------------------
speaking of which, in both cases, neither of which i will clarify for you, i saw him today. the one with the snub. i gave him only one word. hey stephen, how are you. working.
"chump," you hear a voice spit in the cap'n jazz cd. its in there. puddlesplashers. its for real. its for you. fucker.
------------------------------
T-minus eight hours to lift off.
eight hours til the green light on my trip out to marietta. yes, friends and neighbors, i will be in your neck of the woods. for several hours, for 12-strings, for high fives. 49531, one can only hope, but "the ripped ones never collide," so i should keep that investment nestled. unspoken. and let it fizzle out elsewhere, away from the prying eyes.
math is everywhere. forget the M words. lets speak in silent letters.
the hunt for the magic eeeee.
-----------------------------
homework has been a much neglected item on my agenda this week. procrastination is five bullets in a six-shooter chamber. my shoe is all velcro and second hand smoke.
youre shooting yourself in the foot doub fuck
oh christ. i cant even spell "dumb fuck."
-----------------------------
i remember silent letters in kindergarden. the letter K. i was the only one that knew. Ms green (was it green with an e on the end?) was impressed. and it was just this evening that i saw Mrs Hall at work. a first grade teacher that worked with my mom at the same school. i wanted to tell her how ashamed i had been that time dylan and i stole candy from her jar after school. prepared the speech. the casual way to bring it up when she came to my register. how to NOT be awkward. but i said nothing. rang up her husband's belt. fifteen-nintynine. twentyfive percent off. check. can i see your license. thanks. i'll tell her you said hello. have a good night.
they were reeses pieces. the little peanut butter cups. dylan took probably five. it was his idea. i came along for the ride. and took one. maybe two. and had to apologize in the morning, because dylan's mom asked him where the candy came from. she worked in the class room right next to Mrs Halls. his mom was my first grade teacher. and my middle brother's. now my youngest brother is in first grade. he has someone else. he had to read me a story last night. and i had to write a note saying he read it:
3.21.2k2
if danny seems a little worn out today its because he had a long night. this evening he was playing in the backyard and was captured by the spanish armada. in exchange for three barrels of salted meat, he was traded to pirates (the peg-leg, patch-eyed kind, not the baseball team.) he made his way across the atlantic-- swabbing the deck and whatnot-- finally siezing his chance to escape by jumping ship in a brittish port. crawling ashore, danny applied to work at a leather-tanning factory to pay his way back to america. however, danny saved his employer from choking to death on a Raisenette and his boss offered to fly him back to the states personally. arriving in new york, where his boss had to meet his leather-tanning associates-- danny got a job selling newspapers. a strong work ethic earned him a promotion to a bike route, where it was soon discovered that he had one heck of an arm. danny traded in pitching newspapers for pitching baseballs. Immediately, he was picked up by the Mets and later traded to the Pirates, of all teams (the baseball team, not the peg-leg, patch eyed kind.) danny pitched a shut-out final inning against the Dodgers in the world series which launched him into stardom. Paramount pictures backed his first movie (after much success doing sports drink commercials) but it was a flop. somewhat drifting into obscurity, he was the star of a poorly written sitcom, but he was beat out for the timeslot by (one of the two dozen) Wayans Brothers on the WB network. for a short period of time, danny did voice overs for Disney's pirates (of the carribean, not the baseball team or the peg-leg kid.) eventually, though, danny returned home a humble and modest six year old. in fact, he even took time out of his busy schedule last night to read me "baby rattlesnake." danny is very modest now, so dont be surprised if he pretends to know nothing of this story or refuses to sign autographs.
dont you already feel sorry for my kids? i cant wait! ive been taking notes from cliff huxtable and steve keaton. i want to be a fun dad. i want to make babies.
wherefore art thou Elise Keaton? Claire Huxtable?
----------------------------------
ridiculous, i am, shamelessly ridiculous.
"yes i am talking to you, and yes i know, this is shameless"
----------------------------------
and slingshot back to me. to her, rather. not her, but the other her. "thee" her. were we really so innocent? i never thought so, but im beginning to believe it.
----------------------------------
once upon a time i was talking about marietta: my friends, you live there. let me know if you want to do something. im not meeting bryan ducey until three. picking up nathan at the airport at five. eating at soul V around 7? any and all are welcome.
----------------------------------
right now im going to buy tofu and make more BBQ tofu sandwiches. nothing better than grocery shopping at 4:46 in the morning.
-------(fifteen minutes, tops)----
im back, just like that. lickitty-split. from the kroger i used to work at. fred at penneys knows cliff harris, the manager of that kroger, the man that yelled at me for asking a guy if he wanted help out with his groceries, prompting my swift resignation. oh how i tangent with the greatest of ease! anywho, fred and i talked about cliff, running a tight ship at publix, where fred also works, poor customer service at kroger. this that and the other thing. good times with fred. i havent palled around with him like that in the longest time.
today i also talked to dawn at work. shes the new girl. twentyeight. one daughter. on her second marriage according to alina, via word of mouth from leslie, but she didnt mention a first husband today, so im not sure thats true. alina seems to misinterpret certain things. like english, for instance. anywho, dawn calls fred "ferd." its funny. we talked about the hideous shirts and ties we are now selling (take a look for yourself... the hunt club shirts and ties at penneys... they are godawful... bright bright colors... look like they are made out of sherbert ice cream.) we also have these blue pants. not normal blue pants. no. bright blue. BRIGHT blue. i dont even know where this shade of blue comes from. it must have only recently been discovered. regardless of its origin,its not a shade you want on your body. or in your house. or in sight, in general.
dawn and i also laughed about the clothes we used to wear. music we used to listen to. jobs we used to have. movies we used to love. family. friends. it was a good conversation. i love my co-workers. we have fun.
---------------------------------
by the way, word of advice from dawn: never piss off folks at fast food restuarants. every rumor youve heard about spitting in food, or rubbing a burger on the ground, or wiping a bun across the bottom of a shoe... its all true.
---------------------------------
only this week did i finally figure out what Endora is. and lo'-and-behold, my brother lost that split seven inch on clear purple vinyl. im not happy about it.
---------------------------------
i want to write more, but im exhausted and still cooking BBQ tofu. why am i doing this at nearly six in the morning?
---------------------------------
"i think im going to close the store a few minutes early and watch the sunset." good for you mister adler. make alex p keaton stop what he's doing and watch the sunset with you. it would be good for him.
"eeeee," by the way, was secret code for matt nokleby and me. oh how i miss him. and those drives: the minivan drives of shame, thru every turn possible in lawrenceville, just to drive. to talk.
a question posed to my mother, at the age of three:
"mommy, does i miss you mean i love you?"
undoubtedly, the answer was yes.
i miss you, matt.
-------------------------------
math:
9.6 25.15.21 3.1.14 18.5.1.4 20.8.9.19 25.15.21 1.18.5 4.18.9.22.9.14.7 20.15.15 3.12.15.19.5
49531.