Weight to songs.

I've gained a bit of weight. Well, kind of. See, I was a at pretty muscle-y 175 the last few years. Pretty svelte and my arms were pretty solid. I'd like to think so anyway.

         But since leaving the cemetery after two years, I lost the muscle and gained it back in useless fat. I mean, I think it's noticeable, it kind of is. But I certainly feel it. I knew the whole time though. After 2016 when I left I was sad, I didn't think I was going back to the cemetery. But 4 months later I did. April to mid-October to be exact. I was once again in peak form. Simply part of the job. The first week is brutal if you hadn't been doing much. It wasn't too bad though. my first year, After the first day I couldn't walk straight waking up. My body was literally working out muscles it hadn't ever touched really. It was good though after a few weeks. 

             Now I'm sitting all day. There's a lot of food too. Desserts. A lot. Not all the time, but especially during the holidays back in December there were a lot of cookies and crap going around in general to eat. Which is fine, but if you're active. I haven't been hugely active. So I'm maintaining 175, but at a weighty 175. Lost the arms, lost the stomach. It's a bit of a transition as now I have to watch it. Actively work out, not eat so much. I'm on top of it, but it's not the same. 

             It doesn't help that there is no desk where I am, I lie on the bed when I'm writing. Like now. I also drink a lot. I've cut a lot of beer. It's a lot for my stomach sometimes. But I am drinking. Sipping on mixes of sorts, which doesn't help the situation. But I do it out of boredom and to escape my hell. It's back in full force. Deep. 

         I suppose I'm writing all this junk because one day I'll read it back. I've been reevaluating recently what I should and shouldn't write here. Since I have attempted to semi-religiously back in 2016, my journal writing has all but ceased to be. I don't write there anymore. But what deep and intensely personal things should I write here? Where is that line? How do I differentiate between "just venting" and "this is how I truly feel. It's a conviction of mine to the core." And there is a difference. Like everyone, I say things out of emotion. But in hindsight, I would never act upon a lot of what I say. I'll say I wish death upon people, but out of rage or pure emotion. I say nasty things, but in writing. 

         It's the same as my music. It's my way of getting over my shit. I'll say and sing mean nasty things and write them down. Because that's the only way they can be expelled out of my body to get over that hump. It'll fester. I don't know how to get over things in traditional ways. Some people fight, some run away, some beat others up, some yell and scream, some paint, some throw things, people too, and some write. Some keep it in so long and then go on a spree. or end themselves.

                I write because in my opinion it's the least detrimental way to handle my emotions. I am intelligent enough to know this is how I need to deal with them. That sounds pretentious but hear me out. Wouldn't you agree a lot of folks who get emotional don't know why or especially know how to handle them? Not a lot of people are so self-aware. I could easily yell and scream and throw a chair or plate or lamp  or bottle or phone. That's not me. I write. it's less destructive.

         That being said, a lot of people would argue it's more destructive. It's forever. It's out there. Forever. Someone knowing I took the time to sit down and write something about them, that might hurt them more. So they think. I've written plenty about plenty of people. But in hindsight, if it's a good song, it only hurts one person, and may help more. Take it out of context and it's only me getting my shit out there. It's actually likened to shitting. Getting the toxins out. haha. 

             it hurts. I know, it hurts like hell. But  I can't help it. I am an artist. If it's not in song it's in written form. It's the only way I know how to truly expel and express myself. Getting the bad things OFF my chest. OUT of my heart. Why? Because I know it's stupid. Fights are dumb. Arguments are dumb. But they happen. I do this and write about people and things I am sad and mad and frustrated about because I know that it's silly to fester on and I know it will one day pass. Not because I want the other person to hurt for all eternity. But because this is my way of fulfilling my need as an artist to be out there, and this is what I am feeling right now, so this is what came out. 

          It's not because I am so steadfast and certain I feel this way and will forever. There are songs I've written I do not play and have never played and probably never will I've released for this reason. I felt it in the moment, and it happened to be recorded and I thought it was decent enough to be released into the world. But 2 weeks later, 3 days, hell, an hour later I regret doing it. I stand by what I write, absolutely. I've answered and paid dearly for a few things already. But I don't gamble in the stake-driving business. I don't need any more enemies. If something I write causes another person to leave me behind, then so be it. I'm sorry, not my intention, but it IS out there, and it might be scathing. 

           For every scathing song though, there are 30-40 beautifully heartbreaking lonesome songs. Songs about lust and lost love and sheer reckless, abandoned heartbreak. Most times I can't convey the sadness in my heart to page or record, but I try. Which is why I write so much. I can't quite get to paper my true feelings. Try as I might. I can never capture the exact emotion in song. Which is why I try. I'm always chasing. There are far more friendless and blue tracks and songs and attempts in a pile of notebooks and on the empty pages in my head for the future for me, in me than there ever will be an angry song. 

                 So if you're reading this and some day I write a song about you, sad, longing, anxious, maddening, silly, humorous, lovely, or bad. Take it as you will. 

           But I ask, would you rather have a bottle of rum whipped at your cheekbone? Or a few songs?

     Personally, I'll take the tunes.

Things I do

Might've mentioned it earlier, but I was/am? Was I suppose. Was on a tour of apology with people I haven't spoken to in a long while. Old bosses, friends, beyond. All to sickening disappointment. It only ripped open scars that shouldn't have been touched. I don't know what i was thinking. 

                 As if it'd help. As if I'd be doing any good. As if all would be forgiven or at least forgotten. I guess a part of me expected things to go back the way they were right whenever the point of our break was with whoever it is. Awkward phone call. Boy. Awkward drives, awkward thoughts, expectations. 

          It only lead me back into the deep depression that's hovered the last few months. I was about out of the funk emotionally. Mentally not so, but I was getting there. Other troubles that have maintained are a constant factor I need to work on. But in terms of getting myself out of the deep deep funk I was in, I had swam up a few layers and it was still there, but not so bad. Like paddling in the shallow end. But I've gotten out, and jumped and sunk right back to the bottom at the deep end. 

           What was I thinking? It's happened a few times now. 3 or 4 different people. Ouch. Perhaps I'm in the wrong? But I'd like to think I'm giving it a good go of, "hey, water under the bridge ay?" They say yes, or pretend it never happened and they don't give a shit. Strange silences and excuses to escape the painfully awkward situation/ conversation. I'm left with myself again. Failing at trying to fix and repair, bridge gaps and continue on without loose ends. 

              Instead I am left with old wounds now new again. Reliving pain I thought I was over in so many respects. It's not necessarily the same pain, but new pain, in that way. A "Oh! This will never be fixed, I need to move on, and that part of my life and their friendship I've fucked up forever and I'll never get it back. Because I fucked it up." pain. A lost friend feeling. I understand others can let it go so easily. It's bittersweet though. Because they can shut their part of their brain off. I can too. I think it's because I haven't slept. In moments of venerability I get emotional. I'll fucking cry. Don't tempt me. 

            Why do I do these things? I shouldn't I should let sleeping dogs lie. Accept people hate me, and move on. But, I suppose I've got a lot less to offer nowadays. I'm a miserable son of a bitch and I have nothing to offer. I thought I did. But it's not enough. It's not what anyone wants. I'm not the person I was and I don't have the same beneficial traits I once did. Do you believe in fate? Or rather, believing you only get so many chances in life at something and once they're gone, that's it? I feel that way at times.

                I fucked up two relationships I wish I hadn't. Two that if I had only been a better person, my life would be drastically different. Hell, throw another in there. Three times I could've had it made in so many ways. But I was dumb and young and naive and frustrated and not emotionally stable and immensely stressed. I wish I had stuck it out a few of them you know? Accepted this is as good as it's going to get and don't fucking stray because the road ahead you're down isn't nearly as fucking pretty boy. Stay where you are. But I didn't, and here I am. And man am I so unhappy. No it has nothing to do with the relationships per say. But if I had stayed I wouldn't have made a lot of decisions I've made since. But I don't know if I believe in fate or destiny etc. But perhaps that you're only given so many shots if any at all and then the forces that be move on because they go "Jesus this kid's dumb, on to the next." 

               They're gone. They're all gone and they're gonna keep going because this is who I am.  

Book this hotel

   Everyone was sitting there. Right in the office. it was the middle of the day. Sun was out. It was the middle of February but it was oddly warm out. Pretty normal day. Some people had meeting and some people were swamped, some weren't. Some people were off getting coffee and some were killing time. Everyone at their desks.

             Then it came. The news. Everyone's phone went off. Everyone. Even the desk phones. Everyone found out at the same time. An asteroid. Headed for the coastal US and whatever or wherever it hit, humanity as we know it would be entirely wiped. Everywhere, the Earth and beyond. Even those fuckers in space. Them too. It only made it worse that IT was hitting us. From Maine down to Virginia. 

          The big one, was here.

       Everyone began freaking out. Everyone turned around, mainly to see what everyone else will do. Some think they're going home. Some try. They might get there. Some just sat staring at what other people would do. Because if it's over, everyone's supposed to go crazy right? Some did. Some screamed, fell on the floor, ran around. Flipped chairs, tables. But some just sat and stared at the other staring back.

       Like Abby was, at me. I noticed briefly. I stopped, stared back, gave her a sad half-grin, barely that, and a nod as if to say "nice knowing ya." And I slowly got up, grabbed my jacket, threw it over my shoulder and waltzed out. I didn't fly down the stairs, as everyone ran past. I didn't fly out the door and down to the sidewalk either. They were full but quickly empty. It was odd. I avoided the big intersections. The side streets were dead. Thank god. We'd all be though soon.

         As I looked up at the sky, walking along, it was still sunny. Warm too. Not a cloud in sight. It was actually really nice. The first day of the year it was over 25F, let alone 65. It was mid February and thankfully, one of those rare spring days that have been popping through a few times a winter the last few years. Thank you New York! Thank you LA! Thank Buddah! Thank Christ! Thank the 80's, Thank China! Thank the Polar Bears! Thank you god for Global Warming! Deniers eat your heart out. I suppose if there were anyone left at the end of it they'd conclude that's what did us in. But there's no way.

              As I walked the empty street I heard some steps quick behind me. I turned and clenched my knife in my pocket, with this new circumstance surrounding me I had to be careful. It's all ending, but I'm going on my own terms. 

        It was Abby.

  "Hey!" she huffed as she slowed. She'd been running after me. "Hi there! Want to join?" I said, smiling as I turned back to walk. She walked beside me, clearly perplexed at what the fuck I was doing exactly. "This is nuts huh?"
 "Sure is!" I said. "It's fucked up." I laughed. "So, all those hypothetical stories you know? About if we know the world is ending, what we'd all do. Jesus Christ." She was still catching her breath. "You believe in him?" I asked, jokingly. She giggled. "Guess I'll find out soon."

         We walked a bit in silence. Everyone going nuts. "Want some gum?" I asked.

       She stared at me strange. "At a time like this, you're thinking about gum?"

"Do you want some?" I asked again. Without a word she took some. We walked by a storefront. Totally empty. I stopped. "Damn, I look okay. At least in this window. You know, sometimes you only have to find the right mirror. You know? I don't look great, but in the right mirror, I look okay. You know?"

            "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She doubled over laughing, but in a friendly way. I shrugged and smiled at her as I chewed my gum. She was good. 

      Then we saw a dog, leash attached running down the street. 

"Come on!" I said as I began running. She followed. It was a mid-sized poodle looking thing. Or was it? I don't fucking know. It was fluffy. We caught it in an alley. Huffing and puffing. it was scared as shit. "What do you think his name is?" I asked. "Hmm, doesn't matter much now does it. Probably Uncle Kraker now. Yea, I like that." 

       "Uncle Kraker?" I turned around and looked at her real weird. "Yea." 
 "Works for me." We started calling it Uncle Kraker and he came real slow and careful, but he came. "You're a weird one." She said. "I didn't really know you too well, I had my ideas, but jesus." I picked up Uncle Kraker, he was super nervous, but we pet him and he calmed a bit. We needed a snack for him. I couldn't feed him gum. The end was near anyway.
            "In a good way or bad way?" I asked. Curious. "A good way. I think." She said looking at me. We emerged from the alley. "i knew you. I think." "Really?" She asked. "Well, I mean I had my ideas of you. But I think it was more clear. But everyone's got their secrets. Surprises. I've accepted I've got mine in droves. Rather, that's all I am. I know how I look to the world. But I'm not that guy. I'm pretty layered. Some are ragged and fucked, some are silky smooth, soft and fuzzy, Some are rough and jagged and hard. You know. All of it. But I'm certainly not the guy most think I am, or so I think."

          "I think that's spot on, so far." I let Kraker on the ground with the leash around my wrist. I gave it to her. As we walked down the sidewalk with everything empty, it got a bit darker, we looked up. Only a cloud. We heard screams in the distance. A bit off-putting but we kept at it. Kraker had no idea at this point. He had it down. Why couldn't we all be like Kraker?

            She stopped and I noticed a bit later. I looked back. "What's up?" She was looking in the window. We went back. "Whatcha looking at?" "You're right." she said. "What's that?"

        "I look fucking good in this particular window." She said with a smirk and turned her head to look at me with it. Those eyes. 

   "SEE! NOW You've got it! You're catching on." I put my free hand out. She grabbed it and we waltzed down the sidewalk together. Abby, Kraker and I.

           Eventually we found our way to the double yellow. No cars roamed the streets now. Walking was funner this way too. 

             "What do you want to do?" I asked her as I looked at her as we walked. 

"What do you mean?" She had this natural smile on. it was still perfect out. Oddly.

         "I mean, if it's ending. What do you want to do, before you die. Away and on to the next thing? Not like, travelling and bucket list shit, it's a bit late for getting a flight to Tartu or Cairo or something. But I mean, right now, what do you want to do?"

        "Hmm, well walk a highway I guess. Route 3s across the trees there." No hesitation. 

    "Good! Let's." We jogged Kraker right up and over the hill through the woods and over the rail. Not a fucking automobile in sight. Still mid-day. We jumped around and walked and ran and spun in the middle of a damn highway. 

        "Shit, that was nothing. Now what!!" She shook me by the shoulders and picked Kraker up and spun him too. He was happy somehow. 

"Hmm. What else? I'd say rob a store or something, but that's too cliche." She agreed.

         "Yea shit. Now where?" "Where's somewhere we could never go before?"

    We walked off an exit ramp and into the center of the city again. Right down the strip. It wasn't long, but it was packed. It got a little darker. but we couldn't tell if it was because of the time or not. "How much longer do you think we have?" I asked. 

        Suddenly we both got very sullen. "I don't know." She responded, looking up. Kraker kept our spirits as elevated as possible. He was still smiling and panting, looking back at us occasionally. Making sure his new friends were still in fact there. The biggest building around. The Raddison. Stupidly expensive place. I stopped us.

      "Hey you know, I've never seen a room in this place. I've been in and kicked out for not belonging, like most places I go. But I've never been in here. It's too expensive. Want to see it all go down on the roof?"

      "I wouldn't want it any other way." I couldn't tell if she was agreeing with whatever I said out of fear and not wanting to be unhappy in her last hours or because she meant it. Whatever it was, I was glad she was there. This time she grabbed my arm and we went in.

        We had to shove the revolving doors hard. They weren't on now. No power anywhere all of a sudden, but the multi-storied windows lit the lobby up and everything around. We went up one floor and found the nearest open room. We went in and looked out the windows on the street. "This must've been killer for bar-hopping and coming back and seeing everything go down. All the drunks and bro's and whores in dresses too short and too bright. The cops riding their bikes and not doing a thing. Stumbling into the streets in front of cars. Driving down the strip endlessly and turning around and coming back down, swerving from drunks stumbling in the roads. Stopping wherever we want, stepping around and in to puddles. playing sidewalk pianos and dropping dollars into the buskers case and watching him solo and curse the bro's request some bro tune. Flasks down our pants and bras. Watching from benches, late night fries and delivery ice cream. making out in alleys. Making out in bars. Strangers, friends, co-workers. Pissing off the waiters. Skimping the bartender and tipping the bouncers. Watching bar bands and more buskers. And coming back whenever you want to watch it all go down. Here." I said, as we sat on the sill.

        "You never did any of that." She said. I turned and saw her staring right into my soul. 

 "You are 100% right." I gave a sad smile and turned back. She put her hand on mine. "Same." She said. I looked back and smiled. Kraker was on the bed. Staring, egging me on. "I know! Shit, don't pressure me!" She looked at Kraker. "What the heck are you talking about?" As she turned back I was an inch from her face. I kissed her. 

        We kissed and there was literally no time to spare. I gently moved her to the bed and we laid on the beautiful white fluffy sheets I could never afford and she got her hand up my shirt. One of my hands caressed her face and the other was all over the rest. She was a sight. Perhaps she thought the same of me, but who really knew. I tried not to care. 

               A few minutes later we both got back up. I helped her up and I found Kraker, now sleeping on the floor. he found a pillow. "Good." I thought. Fuckers deserved it. Damn expensive pillows. He got up and we left. i grabbed a pillow for him on the room. "Okay. You ready?" I asked her. She knew what I meant. "Yea. Let's do this." We walked down the hall to find the stairway. We needed to find the damn roof somehow. The elevator wasn't an option. She knew what I meant. We were gonna end it there. However it went down, we'd see it from the highest place on Earth. Ours anyway. 

          I stopped her in the hallway, got her up against the wall right there in the now dimly lit hallway in that fancy fucking hotel and kissed her again. We were into each other's souls. It was deep. But only because all our walls and barriers were down and had to be. We were all done. What was the point? Years and months of work had passed. They had to. I felt her up and she gasped in a good way. She licked her lips and gave me that look when she could bare to crack her eyelids open. It lasted for far too long but not nearly long enough. She was drunk on me.

              We found the stairway. It was a long way up. I didn't even count how many stories. But she didn't care. Neither did I. If Kraker got tired, well, we'd carry him. On the pillow of course. We rain up 5 stories. We jogged up 3 more, and walked what seemed like 10 more. We stopped for a breather on a landing. Uncle Kraker seemed up for anything. Shit, he'd run down, up again and pass us on the way back. She kissed me and we held each other on the railings and walls and stairs. No boundaries now. No holding back. She was down my pants on occasion and I was up her shirt. Down her pants as well. It was classy though. We were connected at the face for most of it all of it. I held her and we looked deep into each other. "How many more you think?" She asked looking up. "To the roof? Hmm, may 3 or 4. Mayb..." The place shook. The emergency lights went out. It shook and it never stopped. it got stronger and stronger. I got deep and philosophical real fast and real hard. "Well Abby, this is it. The big one." 

            "On to the next thing I suppose." She said. I could feel her slight rolling eyes and tongue in cheek although I couldn't see it anymore. "On to the next great shit show. Whether it's in the sky or in another life." We sat on the cold cement, reaching for Uncle Kraker, he shook too. He leapt off his pillow and onto my lap. Abby slid on over to me and nestled in close. I held her. "Yes, it is a shit show. Isn't it." She said. I nodded. "Yes it is beautiful. Yes it is." I assured her.

        "Do you have any regrets?" Her voice was shaking as the whole building rocked to it's core. "Me? Hmm. I thought I did, but now that it's here, I can't think of any. So I suppose not. You?" We spoke fast and a bit nervously and loud now over the noise. The place hummed. 

            "Ummm. Uhhh." She was so scared. So was I. Scared shitless. She grabbed me tight. I grabbed her back. Kraker was trying as hard as he could to get closer. "I think, maybe, uh. Oh hell I don't know." "That's okay. I said. My hand through her hair. Not that it'd help. But it did a bit. 

          "We never made it out. To the roof I mean." She finally said. "That's my regret." She nodded, being sure that was it. "Yea, that's a good one. But it wasn't meant to be." I said. 

           We sat in silence as it shook harder. The sound was deafening. We could hear things collapsing now. This was it. It was hard to think let alone hear. 

      "I GOT IT! I REMEMBER NOW!" I said. "WHAT! REMEMBER WHAT?" She yelled back, lifting her head to look at the dark mess up at me as if it mattered. "MY REGRET." "WHAT IS IT??" She asked. "QUICKLY NOW!" 

         "I WON'T GET TO SEE YOUR SMILING FACE WHEN IT GOES DOWN." 

   The whole place tipped. She got up and stuck her face into mine. I held the back of her head and both her palms on my cheeks. We went sideways.

                  The last thing I heard was her voice. 

    "I swallowed my gum!"

                                                 I heard the smile in her voice.

After you

Don't make 'em angry. They'll come after you. 
                                     Don't make them angry, they'll kill you too.

       Don't slow down, they'll beat you down.
                                   Don't let up, they'll steal your crown.

    They're out for blood and gold, and they're coming for you.
                                                       So don't let off the gas, whatever you do.

      They're gaining on your ass now. 
They're nipping at your feet.
              And you don't know how.
       You're gonna get off the street.

And into a nice warm bed.
  It must be a dream. You must be out of your head.

           They're crazy, rabid, and foaming for you.
                                 But it's like this everywhere, it's nothing new.

             Can't catch a breath or break.
                               Can't buy a buck, all they do is take. Don't know what the fuck's at stake.

         Gotta please the masses or they'll cut you down.
                         Come on you know the deal, that's why your always alley bound.

    You're a road dog. Through and through. 
                                   Don't piss 'em off or they'll come after you. Like they always do. 

        Before long they'll kill your drive, then you'll give up on all of it.
                                                      They'll rip you out the car, and then you'll really be in the shit.

           They'll stomp you down in no time, then they'll be through with you.
                                                                    So don't make 'em angry, whatever you fucking do.

                                  Don't make 'em angry, because they'll just find somebody new.

Don't make em angry, cuz they'll come after you.

Stop, drink and roll!

Stop eating stop eating stop eating.
        You eat to much.
   You're gaining weight.

                  But now you're running so it's okay. You'll be okay.

BUT you look like shit, you feel like shit. You lost your muscles. You don't fill those shirts anymore.

       You're running, you're working out now. it's okay. live. Be cool. Be comfortable. Eat whatever.

         NO I CAN'T. I can't. 

     It's fine! Drink, lie there and drink. You'll stop eating anyway. Just don't eat sometimes. Eat nothing and it'll be okay.

       That's what i DO. Don't eat, drink instead. Wake up in the early AM and down 3 gallons of water and wake up and do it again. Don't eat. Drink.

                Keep drinking
                                   Keep Drinking
                                                        Keep Drinking

Are

You kidding me? I can't afford a city girl. I CAN'T. There are so many more folks in the city. What's the proper term? What's appropriate now? Girl? Woman? Lady? Female? Gal? Person? What's correct in 2018? Shit, I check myself when i say girl. Most women aren't girls anymore. it's condescending, to me at least. They're women. Grown up. But I digress.

          There are SO many more people in the city. Cultured. Classy, and proper. Perhaps I'm glamorizing it. But it's just a world I can't fathom being in. It's like a fortress I'll never break into. Only acquiring passes to enter here and there. I'm so far away from it. i hate it, but I can't see myself really getting there on a regular basis. Not in a physical sense, but certainly in a status sense. It's a social status thing. For sure. 100%. 

         I suppose it's a cultural status, and financial. Do you hustle enough to be able to afford living in the city? No? Not even close. Not even on the outskirts. And I'm not cool enough to live in a shitty or cheap hipster part either. Are there even parts like that anymore? At this point and the last few years it's becoming so gentrified, there will be no old-school housing left. no old-ass apartment buildings from the earlier 20th century. But it's all getting bought, sold, torn down to put up "green" housing and apartments. Not even the cliche condo. All mass amounts of bland, blase, glass covered apartments. Redundant. Sucks the personality RIGHT out of Boston. Bawstan kehd. Kid. KEHD. FAK YOU KEHD.

              No, I've moved more and more north. Fuck it. There's nothing up here. Shit, the city I work in, I can't even afford.

                 It's all bullshit. All of it. 

Curse

It seems a trend that when I begin talking to someone, after I write a song with them in it, they stop talking to me.  They don't hear it, or know it exists. I am inspired by them to write, not even a tune,  just words on page. Most times not even directly about them,  only a name, or an image of what I think they're like used.  Not even their real selves.  But after I do they go.  It's mere superstition I suppose,  but every single one, as long as we talk, the minute I put them to page I get the door.  

   So do I quit writing songs or do I stay lonely? 

            Here, this one's for you.  

Guitar

If I'm visiting, and you have a guitar nearby,  

 .   Your can kiss the night goodbye.  

Alcohol

        151 is a powerful fucking thing. I say that out of no particular ego. It has been confirmed and reaffirmed to me via unsolicited interviews and tales and rumblings I've heard over the years and especially recently. I don't speak up.

           It's certainly not great for my voice. Over the last year, my voice has gotten increasingly grumbly-er and rough. I attribute this to a drunken night where another and I had a screaming contest to music driving home. Ever since my voice has been a little worn. Straight notes are a little raspy. It's ripped. Not in the good way.

          But in addition I attribute high-proof alcohol to this. Nearly 2 years now. Getting drunk at nights with heavy mixes and concoctions. As I am now. In a work freebee thermos. Cranberry and 151. Cruzan as it has to be now. Bacardi no longer makes 151. BUT after the first few months of this deficit, I found some, and drank it in a motel room in Providence. Lovely. Still have the empty bottle because I found it at a time it was technically out of stock.

           viva la life I suppose.     

Here's to the night. 

Attempt

I'm making an attempt to make amends. But all I usually get is ripped open wounds and scars. 

      I receive and cause boiled up memories buried in people's unconsciousness. Deep Space. 

            It never turns out as planned. But does it ever? I think it's going to be some epic culmination of reuniting and rekindled friendships. But all that comes is depressing outcomes, shoulder shrugs, let-downs, built up and disappointed "yea it's whatever. Long time ago's." and "Hey we've all been there, water under the bridge." Which is nice, but things never continue where they left off. 

          They accept my apology and attempt, and that's it. Things go back to how it's been. Never speaking. Never talking, just, ackwardness. So be it. I suppose it's selfish. But the attempt is valiant, isn't it? 

          Me, reaching out, apologizing, saying what I've done wrong and that I acknowledge it. Who does that these days? After all this time? Nobody does. But it's never as it should be. The effort isn't taken at all. Which is their choice because of what I've done. It's my bed to lie in. 

              So should I continue on my tour of amends? Or stop because it's pointless? 

     I'm not sure. 

freckles

She was one of those free-spirit types. If it is a type. Aren't we all to an extent? But you know, the stereotype. She'd hate me saying it. Calling her out like this. 

          She always had her canvas backpack with her, or on her. Buttons all over the back. "Earth." "Save mother nature, motherfucker." "I heart everyone." and my favorite, a button with a dinosaur on it that read "Never Forget." I smile every time. 

           She had wavy hair, washed, but not kept. It was wild. She had dyed it a few colors and washed it all out. it was a worn color of all sorts. She had freckles, natural beauty. A few scars from the mountains and hiking accidents on shrooms and other assorted fun. Nothing too bad. Just made her rugged. You could tell she could take a hit and then some and walk away. 

             She had rings. Lots. Nose rings, earrings, several on each and a stud, one in her face for the monroe, a septum, her lips, tongue, her left eyebrow, and some you couldn't see. 

               She wore funky tank tops and shorts, skirts. The like. The more stripes the better. All earthy tones. Did I mention freckles? That's what I called her, anyway. I forget her real name now. it didn't matter.

              Bracelets of twine and charms from her adventures. A braid of magic in her hair. Never any makeup. Didn't have time. I dug that. She said she liked it, but didn't need it. Couldn't fit in her bag. Always showing those legs off and her worn sneakers. Whatever she found at Good Will. 

      You get the picture.

   She found me lost. Alone. She had me nailed. So she thought. "You're just a sad little loner looking for stories aren't you." She pitied me. "Looking to live vicariously through someone. Someone like me, whose actually done something with their life. Who wasn't afraid to jump. literally at times. You see me and say 'jesus, she's got to be an adventure!' Don't you?" She pouted at me. 

          She thought I was cute though. She kind of had me nailed. Not quite. I might've lived my own suburban hell on my own. Hers being Acadian, woodland. Rural. Open. I let her think it. But kept her in check. When it counted. 

         She grabbed my hand. Come. See this shit. I followed her. We went for what seemed like forever. 

     It was dark now. I couldn't see a damn thing. Stumbling and tripping over rocks and roots that stuck out of the rough terrain like hooks meant to knock my teeth out.  

        "where the fuck are you taking me?!" I yelped. She didn't seem to care. She giggled in the cool air. it was cold as hell now. It was that time of year when it was beautiful during the day, but if you weren't wearing something significant at night, or you weren't moving at night (like me) you'd freeze. 

           Freckles floated. She floated over the rocky trail and over the roots and shattered beer glass and bushes and thorns. I caught them all for her. 

      "WHERE ARE WE GOING. FRECKLES!" I yelled now. Still by the hand. "DON'T CALL ME FRECKLES FUCKER!" She yelled over the wind in our face. we were high now, i could tell. The wind was screaming at us. 

        we ran and ran and ran. I was tired. She wouldn't let up. We ran on trails I didn't even know existed. She knew exactly where we were. Exactly where to go because it was pitch black and even after half an hour my eyes were barely adjusted. Even the stars wouldn't light the way. I could see them too.

         Finally, we stopped. We were on a rock. And I could hear the air like nothing I've ever heard. It was surreal. Perhaps it was my hearing compensating, because I still couldn't see a fucking thing. I heard the water in the distance. The moon was nowhere in sight. Fuck it. 

       "Freckles, where the fuck are we? Where'd you take me? You gonna put a shard in my neck and leave me here for the wolves to find? Or some lost kid to find? Fuck, when he gets back to his parents he'll need therapy for the rest of time. Job security I guess."

       "No you shit. And stop calling me Freckles. She was still on my hand. She squeezed it. And got closer. 

      "You'll see. Later." She grabbed my arm and basically threw me on the ground. I was lying there on the cold hard rock. The whole thing was a rock. "Are w... Are we on a cliff?" 

"Bingo dippy." She was on top of me now. "Shut the fuck up and you'll see in the morning. 

       She straddled me in the dark. Her hands on my chest. I only had a light t-shirt on. Not the attire for this weather. But she was warm. She still had that damn backpack on. She was breathing heavy and now scratching her fingers, both hands, lightly up and down my chest. I snapped her out of it. It's what I'm best at.

     "This is nice and all, but will you take that damn thing off!" I said to her, breathless as she was atop me strangling me. I was okay with it. Not the backpack. 

     "jesus, so needy." She ripped it off and tossed it aside. She was panting now. She seemed to be getting something out of her system. I was fine with it. Very fine. Very okay.

       "Now." She said, looking down at me, huffing. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up. huh?" She asked, putting her hand through her hair. She had rings all over it. i'm not sure how she didn't catch any of it in there.

      "yes ma'am!" I obeyed and she did her thing. Somehow she got my shirt off. She felt every inch of me. Why I'm not sure. I wasn't much, so I thought. Or was taught. She stopped. "what's wrong Freckles?"

      "Uh, where's this from?" She was stunned in her tracks, as if discovering an ancient secret to immortality or endless supplies of booze. "What?" I asked. "THIS. This, scar." She felt up and down it with a gentle finger. Her touch was tender. As if nursing a fresh cut.

      "oh. I forgot about that. almost." I said, leaning up a bit. "I got into a fight when i was 22." 

She was perplexed. "wait. What?" She thought she had me nailed, a boring sucker. But she was wrong, and I let her have it. For a while. "Yea." I let her fish. "From?" She closed her eyes and shook her head in minor disbelief. "I went to Egypt once, I tried stopping these two guys from beating this woman up. Well, girl I guess. She looked young." 

      "Wait. Stop. Hold the phone. Back the fuck up. You went to Egypt?" She practically got off out of reflex. I held her thighs. She put her hands on mine. 

   "Yes. When I was 22. Friends. No longer. Long story short we were walking early in the morning. more like late night, but morning by our laws. And we went down this street, and we heard screaming and this girl practically fell out of this doorway, crawling onto the curb. She was trying to get up when these two guys came out after her. Like, from here to that tree, right across the street from us, pretty fucking close."

"Jesus, what happened?" She was pinned to the story and studded silent. In all her hippy glory. She hated that word too. But she was. It's okay, it's just what she was. It was the only time I saw her true. Right in that moment when i had her hooked. So i took it in, and give it here.

     "well, over there, it's normal. Not among my friends, but an evil truth. It just is. It's slow to change, so it just is there. They don't like women. Well, they do, but not as individuals." 

    She nodded. She understood. 

                "So I'm the only one stopping, looking, going 'what the fuck?!? What the hell are you guys doing?!' Naturally the people I'm with turn cheeks, it's normal. A Tuesday night. I'm outraged and amazed and blown away and terrified they're going to kill this girl. They start beating on her. They barely pay me any mind. I step off the curb and the people I'm with grab my arm like I'm in the wrong. Like this whore did something. As if she was even a whore. Or whatever their excuse was."

            "Jesus." was all she could say. I looked away. I wasn't looking in her eyes the whole time. it wasn't a pleasant memory anyway. But I played it up some. 

    "Yea, but in the seconds it was happening, my brain just made that life or death decision. Like, yea you're not among like minded here, and nobody's going to have your back, but this poor girl you know? They had a bottle out and they had already started kicking her, one hit her with the bottle. Once I think. I said fuck it, I have to do something. Maybe someone will follow. Like if I start you know? Sometimes if someone takes the first step, other's will be inclined to follow suit you know? But nobody's willing to take the first step off the cliff to change shit." 

     I was getting a bit philosophical and needed to reel it in. but she was fucking hooked. "Keep going dick!" She grabbed at me fucking hard.

    "right. So I step off, away from them, and this girls' bleeding. It's enraging. I'm on fire now. This poor innocent woman. Hasn't got a shot, she's already on the fucking dusty sidewalk. My friend's are calling me, now in arabic because they're telling those guys to lay off me, I presume, I don't speak much of the language. but they saw me coming and I could tell they weren't about to have me either. Maybe more so than the girl. I don't know." 

        I take a long breath and inhale to tell the rest. "So I finally get to them, I'm right in front of them with the girl on the ground, her blood soaking in the dried dusty shit sidewalk in between us. I'm right off the curb there. And they stop and look at me all wide-eyed. They say a few brief phrased is Arabic. To tell me off. They gesture off to tell me to get lost. I shake my head no and they just step over her. I suppose this is what I expected to happen but I wasn't prepared to fight. Like what the fuck do I do now? 

           So I just took a look at this poor girl crying and bleeding out of her nose and face and shit and I just went ape. I swung when the one with the bottle got closer. He got me in the arm with it. I thought it broke my arm. He swung it again and it shattered on the same spot as I was trying to block my face. Thank god. The other guy was swinging and I shoved him pretty hard. Bottle guy was swinging now with his fists, all ramshackle because these guys fight differently i guess. or not at all. I finally got my head on straight and decided to ignore one guy's shit while I focused on the other.

            I squared up and got this guy right in the face. Until that point i'd never socked a guy in the face. It was magical. Seeing him stunned like that. I think i let out 20 plus years of pent up rage from being picked on. I mean I really let this guy have it. Better than the girl. I swung and swung and swung and swung and again and again. After two pretty good ones they can't keep their hands up and are just doing all they can to keep upright. I paused, while getting punched in the back by the other guy, which i didn't feel. And I think i went through him to put him on the ground with how hard it was."

     "You're fucking with me."

    "Nope... So I turned around, finally realizing this guy was hitting me upside the head every way from Sunday, and his eyes were red and bulging he was so fucking mad. Madder than the other guy. The fucker. He was tougher too. He was quick and I was tired. I hadn't fought before. Neither had he but he was skinny and pissed off. But I was skinny, pissed and had the history. I swear, this song played in my head and we duked it like you've never seen. Grabbing and biting, hitting, tackling. We were on the fucking ground rolling around. I had my thumbs in his fucking sockets. Every bit of what I had trying to disarm him in his shoulders. Fucking pressure points. 

        He gave me a bloody nose and I tried not feeling it. But I knew it hurt or was going to because every time I looked down it dripped pretty bad. But I was so hot in the head I was wailing and flailing. I punched his face in pretty good. We were up and both fucked up. It was to the death I swear, or so it felt. He circled and i let him. He was showboating. Fucker. I tripped him and he whipped out a knife. Seriously? I wasn't about to deal with that. But I was dumb.

       He found his way to his feet and I tried my best to grab him. Dumb idea, he got me right here."

    I gestured to the scar. "It was deep too. I felt it right away. It was tingly at first. But I knew I was in trouble and had to figure this shit out quick. He had a way of stabbing. He just stuck it. He didn't swipe. Thankfully for me. So for some reason my brain processed this. He did it again, right at my middle and he skimmed me slicing my shirt up. I got his arm this time and bit his fucking neck. Fucking HARD. Like a vampire, I wanted blood. I got it too. I'm not ashamed! HAHA." 

       We both laughed. "What the actual fuck man." She shook her head at me smirking. "Then what dippy?" She was still her condescending bitchy self. I loved it. Tough love. Or whatever this was.

       "I hung on, going through his neck, my right arm grabbing his, the knife behind me. Stuck there until he let go and I heard it drop. He was in pain. he repeated some word, basically Uncle. I let go. and shoved him. I chased after him a few steps where I shoved him and grabbed his head and threw him into the stone wall in front of this house. He was out cold. i thought I killed him. Long story short I fell down next to the girl and she was kind of up a bit and thanked me. Or what I think was that. I didn't know. I was bleeding like a stuck pig now."

      She grabbed at me tighter, even knowing I was going to be okay, she was still hanging on like listening to a suspense thriller. She squeezed tight around my sides.

        "the people I was with came over. once I saw she was okay I don't remember much. They tried getting me up. I tried laying down. Presumably to die I guess. Half of me was out on pavement. i saw it. No joke. Like a lot of fucking blood. I was out of it, but I think half of me knew it was over. I just accepted it. didn't fight it. My friend's got me upright all fucked up. I woke up 3 days later in one of their hospitals. They said I was pretty dead haha."

       "you're fucking lying to me." She proclaimed. She knew bullshit when she smelled it. 

   "you're right." I said. "got it fucking around in the woods in the back of my house when I was 10." 

      "You mother fucker!" She hit me with her hands against my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. 

 "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" I yelped. "So what the fuck is the truth, because that's some elaborate fucking story. You're a damn psychopath if you just made it all up. 

   I coughed to catch my breath. "It's true." I muttered trying to breath through the heaving. 

"Serious?" "YES!" I coughed out. 

     Before I knew it her face was on mine. It all went away. 

   My eyes blew open by surprise as she practically fell on top of me. Swooping in for the most intense kiss I'd had in years. Her tongue in my head. She went all the way. It was a snake and a lizard. I gave it right back. Her hands pressed on my bare chest now. Mine right back on her. I held her closer. She breathed heavy. Right into me.

         I felt up and down her back. She bit my lower lip like the renegade she was. She was a savior and a saint and a free feather in the wind. nobody could catch her or pin her down. but here she was. Where she wanted to be. With me. 

             We made out for what seemed like half an hour. Not doing much but discovering each other's mouth cavities. I mean shit. She was intense. Really fucking intense. I breathed heavy, she was putting all her weight on me. But I took it all. No sweat. It beat being alone. It beat bleeding out too.

          She fucking slid down my neck, kissing every inch of it. The sides too. it made me shiver. She found her way to my torso and down my middle. Fuck it was good. She came back up, and went back down, just running her nose gently breathing on me. I could feel the warm air of her breath on my body. It gave me goosebumps like you've never seen. Jesus. 

              She straddled again, grabbing at my belt buckle and button, pulling at it. Biting her lip. Those beautifully luscious lips of hers. Natural, stick or no stick. It was coming off either way. I grabbed at her. My turn a bit. i sat up, staring right into her now. I made out with her with a crazy sorrow like I was letting out some sad rage and letting go of everything and letting it all go in and on her. She took it all and she was more and more turned on by it. I gently removed her tank top and she gladly helped me with it. It was useless to her and I at this point. An obstacle. 

              She was gorgeous. More and more as I removed her clothing. The more natural she got. The more she melded with it all. The less she had on, the more natural she became. She knew it. She was nature's child. And was she ever. Her body was a gift from the gods. I won't get into it, but you could only imagine. One of a kind. It was meant to be this way. This, right here and now. Fleeting.

           I felt her up and down. my hands on her. She had her arms up and through her hair, she enjoyed it. Then against me. I kissed her up and down. I gave it right back. I made her shiver as she sat up, straddling me as she was. My hands up and down her smooth back, curved back as she gave herself. 

              She had enough and gently pushed me back down with one hand. I breathed deep and she got up a bit and unbuttoned me. I helped her out and she took her own off too. It was a formality at this point. She was in charge. But she knew I took part in letting her do what she wanted. She explored this. As weathered as she was, she was still exploring this type of situation. being in total control, but also knowing I could take her out and off at any time I pleased. She had to watch her step and she knew it.

          She took no time dropping herself onto me and I won't get into details as this isn't what this is about. We made love. A few times. I don't think I've ever felt this way before or since. She had a way of bringing it out of me. The second, the third, the 4th time. Hell, even how long it went the first time. We ran each other ragged. We rolled around and I had her in all sorts of ways. She was flexible. We used her skirt and skimpy blanket she had in her bag at one point. Not that it mattered. We didn't feel the cold. only each other. My hands through her hair and all over her every few minutes. I couldn't keep my hands off. She was beautiful. 

             In the middle of it, breathing deep. "Freckles?" "Yes dippy?" I side tracked. "You don't care anymore?" "Nope!" She panted. Referring to our nicknames. "then neither do I." I said. I waited a few. As we were heavily into it. She was hot and heavy into it. Not able to speak. "What is this?" I had a way of wanting to make hot conversation in the middle of it all. Knowing she'd have trouble. "Uh." she hesitated, as we went some more. "What... what'du mean.' she said through the panting. "this." "uhm. it just is," she said. It's all i needed. and all i was going to get. 

             We passed out after the 5th round. Intense, deep conversation in between. The night seemed to last eons. 7 nights all built in. I wanted it to last 20. 22. We both did. I would've married her right there. Nailed her down. No, left, rooted up and gone with her after that. I wanted to. i did. in my mind. right there and then. 

          She shoved me awake. "What?" I was groggy. God only knows how much sleep i actually got. Or her. Perhaps an hour or two. I looked up. "Holy fucking shit." I said.

         The sun came up over the ocean and clouds and distant mountains and it was the most amazing thing I've ever seen, aside from her. "What the fuck, where are we?" I put my arm around her. "We're in heaven. Dippy." 

        Being the king at comic relief I said, "Why dippy?" I asked. "because you're a fucking dip!" She shoved me laughing. "Okay Freckles." I said. 

         "Don't fucking Call me FRECKLES!" she screamed at me, really shoving me now. laughing. We were back at it. 

         This sunrise wasn't much enjoyable after I was fully awake. Because it was over. The whole thing. The dream. It might as well have been. Her, me, here. The run, the night, her backpack, her rings, hair, the buttons. All of it. It was over. She was back. The sun was up. 

            We sat there, an arm around each other, for the first and last time as the sun came up and over. Once it was too bright. We got up. I lied back down. 

         "Fuck." I said, "What?" she asked, getting her things back on and over. 

      I took a breath. "You're a treasure freckles. An American fucking treasure." I said. 

 "Yea?" "yes." i said. "mmmhmm." she said, leaning over to give me the eye and kiss me as she did.  

  "maybe so, but you're an international fucking hero." She joked. We both laughed. 

             "just a human Freckles."

 "i hate you." She told me.        

     "me too. Freckles. me too."

 We got back down that day. It didn't take long. It was quick. And like that, she was gone. Gone gone. She was on to the next. Arizona last I heard. Perhaps I'll hear from her someday again. 

       Or perhaps she always does this. 

Diets

People spend too much time talking about dieting and how they need to "cut out xyz." Than they do actually doing it. Sugar, wheat, maple syrup, ice cream, cookies, cake, pasta, fast food, TV dinners, frozen foods, chinese food, burgers, meat, dairy, dairy substitutes, sugar substitues, food. All food.

      Yes, I do need to cut sugar out of my life. Thanks.