Hold On

"When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
I wanna stand up, I wanna let go
You know, you know - no you don't, you don't
I wanna shine on in the hearts of men
I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand."
- The Killers, from All These Things That I Have Done

I write things like this entry when I'm in a good mood and simply don't want to admit it. I've been thinking about all the bad things that get me down and for some reason it made me smile a bit.

Yeah, that's right, I'm all fucked up.

"When you get sick of watching the walls crumble, call me." - T.O. Hob

So here we go...

In three weeks I'll be a part of what should be my last Antioch weekend. It'll probably be the last thing I'm ever really a part of. After this it's all business and bullshit. Nothing else real, nothing else important. I want to be able to tell these kids something important before I go. Something honest, something real. But I can't think of what to say.

How do you tell someone that years of living "right" and being a good person don't guarantee you shit? That I'm a 24-year old bum living alone in a shitty little one bedroom apartment that I can't even manage to keep clean even though I could stand with my back up against one wall and piss across the whole damn place. That I spend most of my nights working late and coming home to frozen pizza dinners and a few fitful hours of sleep when I'm lucky. That no matter how many people you love, and how many people love you, there's always going to be that time when you feel alone...or are alone.

How do you tell people anything at all? That's my new dilemma.

All these thing I've been a part of. Things I've started, things I've finished. Things I helped to make what they are. And they've all gone. Every last one of them. And now this.

"You can learn a lot of things from listening to a man who has just lost a fight. Most importantly how important it is not to get into a fight in the first place." - T.O. Hob

I think there is something here which is important as well. Something that exists only on these pages. I remember when I started this I wanted a way to talk to people, it felt like a way to communicate with people all over the world. A way to learn.

It quickly became a place to stow my feelings, tuck them away and stop them from affecting my everyday life. When it got too full up things began to pour out, emotions flowing back from these pages and into my life. Revelations.

Then it was a way to hold on. A way to not let go of a place I loved, of people I loved, of a time I never wanted to forget.

Now it's the only place I have left to be like this. To be the guy who thinks too much about things he's not supposed to think at all about. It's that place where I can still pretend I'm smarter than everyone else, where I can still flex the little creative muscle I have left, where I can act like I can make a difference.

It's a small place, a lonely crossroad with the rare visitor, but it suits me...and it's worth holding on to.

And in the end, that's not so bad.

"You don't hold on because everything's perfect. You hold on because there's always just enough that's right to keep holding on to." - T.O. Hob

"Over and out, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
If you can hold on
If you can hold on."
- The Killers, from All These Things That I Have Done

Thunder

"So when it's over, you'll be dead. And I'll be dead. And anyone else that really matters will be dead. And nothing will have changed. Am I missing the part where this becomes a good idea?"

"I said it was an idea. I never said it was a good idea."

There is that subtle rumble in the sky that lets you know big things are coming. But sometimes the thunder and lightning come without the rain. Here's to hoping.

Anyway...

"You know how there are times in your life where you think, 'I probably shouldn't start shit with someone that much bigger than me.' ? Guess what. This should be one of those times." - Kong

I helped my father put away his Christmas decorations today. For a guy with money he lives in an awfully small house, but he and his wife have managed to amass a ridiculously large number of Christmas decorations. I counted nine door wreaths alone. They only have three god damn doors in the entire house.

I spent some time at work tonight. Extra time really. There were things that needed to be done of course, just nothing that really needed to be done at right that minute. Truth is I just didn't have anything else to do.

I got two phonecalls from guys I hadn't talked to in a few weeks only a few minutes apart. We talked for a grand total of thirty seconds, just long enough that if anyone were to ask we could say we talked recently and not really be lying.

I think I've lost touch with some people I never meant to lose touch with. People I wasn't friends with for long enough that our relationship can rightly stand being out of touch for so long. But I don't yet think our friendships are over... or maybe I'm just not willing to admit it yet.

I haven't seen The Phantom of The Opera in over three weeks. I'm very proud of myself. I still listen to the soundtrack regularly, but I'm finding other ways to calm myself and The Afflictions haven't seemed to get me very often lately.

I hit the bookstore again tonight and was only three or four steps in the door when my bookstore inner-monologue started. I might start another blog just for those damn things. Although I would be the only one who found them interesting...that's never exactly stopped me before.

I'm tired.

Thunder goes boom.

"When'd y'all start takin' me so damn seriously?" - Palomba

Me And Tyrone Know Karate

Last night I slept the short bitter sleep of a man too dumb to know he's exhausted. In this sleep I had three dreams, all involving people I know.

The first dream took place in an enormous city...completely inside an even larger building. Think skyscrapers inside shopping malls and maybe you'll come close. Inside this massive city I came upon a woman in distress, turns out I know this woman. So I offer her a ride, and off we go, zipping down the streets of the indoor city. We run upon several guys I've known and they're all impressed to see me with this woman, even though I assure them it's nothing, that I'm simply giving her a ride. We get where we're going (some sick little restaurant) and we run into a man she says she knows. Within minutes we're all seated together and the waiter (who I recognize) is bringing us wine. I take my wallet out to show him my ID and realize that the wallet is empty. Suddenly the man the woman knows has everything in my wallet, and is claiming to be me. And the woman is confirming it. I'm enraged. It begins to rain outside. I beat him to death with my bare hands and drag the woman and waiter out the door into the streets...

The next dream starts and I'm in a snowy parking lot with a guy I know and this younger girl. We go to get in my car and there's someone else behind the wheel. We get in the car anyway, and this man begins to get on my nerves so I lock him in the trunk and the three of us who remain begin to head to the girl's house to drop her off. But I don't know where she lives and she's beginning to feel awkward which means I have to get her home quicker, so I start making turns and the next thing I know we're no longer driving, the three of us are walking down a dark empty street...

And the last dream begins. I'm alone in the snow. It's dark and I'm cold. Everything hurts. And then I hear her. She's singing. My angel. That angel. The one who watched over my old dreams. The one who kept me safe when I couldn't do it myself. And it's kind of strange because it's not the sort of dream she shows up in, and the other dreams from this night have all involved people I know. She's not even real. But then she is, because she's not the angel anymore, she's someone else. And then again. And again. But the cold has gone away and for a second I feel that everything is alright. The world begins to spin and when it stops I'm alone again...but now it doesn't hurt anymore.

And I kept a little of those dreams throughout the day with me. So when I got stuck driving at 2:00 on this miserable afternoon it didn't really bother me. In fact there were even a few things which made me smile.

I'm driving these four little boys from Paterson home, and the seven year old with the big mouth who insists on calling me "The Boss" starts jawing at another kid, I interrupt and he turns his attention towards me.

Me: Keep it down little guy.
D'andre: Little guy? Little guy? I'll come up there and bust you in the mouth calling me little guy.
Me: Take it easy.
D'andre: I'll fuck you up. Me and Tyrone know karate. (pronounced Kuh-RA-tey)
(At this point Tyrone [who is all of six] goes off)
Tyrone: Nah! Now I know your ass didn't just bring me into this shit.
D'andre: But we know karate Tyrone, kuh-ra-tey.
Tyrone: Fuck that shit, do you see the size of that nigga?
D'andre: Pssshh. Shit.

I laugh the rest of the way home.

But it's dark now. Last night's dreams and this afternoon's laughter can only go so far.

It's time to see what tonight holds.

Fade To Black

"Not so fast kid...the day is not over yet." - T.O. Hob

I have weathered the storm. Me.

And I stand here in one of my movie moments, the sea of empty seats dull lit by the projector's flickering lights and wonder what comes next.

There is this head, the one that I pretend controls me when in fact I know it to be the other way around. These voices whose names I have taken from places and things I have known and loved. These movements I have practiced, and fine tuned, until they are no longer movements and simply mechanics.

I have had my movie moments, more so than most. Those instances of revelation where I watch the world play out its hand right in front of me. Those half turns in door ways, silent nods in the hallway, slivers of light bouncing off key plot points and reflecting reality with stunning clarity. Her soft sweet tears in the moment I realize I have made a difference, his handshake as we say goodbye and marvel at the fact we've actually turned into friends at the exact same second we realize we'll never see each other again. The finality of walking out of a room and closing a door behind you, knowing you never get to open it again. The frozen heartbeats and exruciating pauses when you wonder if that heart will ever start beating again...and then wonder if it would be better for it never to do just that.

We have our underlying goal, our supporting cast, our faithful crew, and this little marquee...and then of course the audience. This audience made up of so many who don't even know they're watching a movie at all. These audiences who simply need to respond to the cues put forth by this director.

It's like drawing blood from a stone, and the stone keeps on saying "We can't love you. It's not right. That's not how it's supposed to be." And I keep telling the stone, "But that's all I ever wanted. All I ever needed. I don't ask much. Why? Why?" And I keep trying to reason with the stone except that's awfully like talking to a brick wall but just as useless and slightly more depressing.

And I'm left sitting in the middle of the poorly lit room with mine own life in my hands staring back up at me and saying, "Hello mate, been a good run hasn't it? Pack it in now? But we got time left on the clock still, and there's nothing worse than wasting time you have yet to waste."

But I've had my moments.

And I stand on the mountain top, having weathered the storm, having beaten back the siege. I stand on this mountain top with those moments in my mind and fond recollections of opportunities gone awry. I know there will be more moments, not like the ones I've had, no, those are lost to everything but my memory. But there will be new ones, different ones, ones which will certainly be no less worthwhile to have. So I have had my moments, and I will have my moments, and though The Darkness may have me for the moment I remember those moments and they give me my light.

As the sun comes up...we fade to black.

Cue the applause.

Storm

"You know I wonder about you sometimes."

"Yeah. Most people do."

I like days like this. I like the snow, like the feeling of being cut off from the world for a reason, like how everything looks a little different.

I've spent so much time by myself lately that one more Saturday night locked in my little apartment doesn't make much difference. I still got a little work in today, and tomorrow is going to be ridiculous, but for the moment I'm sitting alone in my warm little apartment wondering when my next good day will be.

I had nothing in my apartment so as the snow began to fall I headed out to the Shop-Rite around the block.

I've driven through a lot of storms, and one thing I've learned is that if you're afraid of the storm you're a danger to yourself and everyone else on the road. Likewise if you're not wary of the storm, you're just as dangerous. Today I found people at both extremes. I ended up behind a woman in a station wagon so nervous and afraid that she could barely control herself. She never moved faster than 5 mph and swerved at the merest sight of another vehicle. Anytime she hit a slick spot she jammed on her breaks, which is anything but the right thing to do. She almost caused three accidents in the two minutes I was behind her. She was so damn careful it was dangerous. A moment later I found myself behind a jackass in a new BMW. This being a previously mild winter he never had the chance to find out that BMW's don't do too well in weather. He found out today the hard way violently skidding and spinning all over the road. To his credit when he realized how foolish he was being he reigned it in a little. But still...

I reached the store safely, but the place was so packed with panicked shoppers that I couldn't even get a parking spot. By the time I found an empty spot I was nowhere near Shop-Rite, but I was right out front of a Walgreens. So I headed in.

This place was empty. The snow was starting to come down heavy and anyone with sense was already on their way home. I was just starting my preparations. I got the last gallon of milk, a beat up box of cereal, and the last two containers of microwaveable soup. Couple bags of Chex Mix, a few Digiorno's pizzas, and the last few bottles of Iced Tea. I was fairly well set, but took a minute to wander around the store anyway.

I wandered through the back of the store, not really needing medicine or anything of the such but curious nonetheless. This is where I found my first fellow shopper, an elderly black man with thick glasses and a dirty baseball cap furiously dumping boxes of condoms into his basket. Blue box, green box, purple box, orange box. The guy hit every model in the Trojan catalog, I stared for a moment in awe. Then a girl came around the corner, a pretty twenty-something who noticed me before she noticed the old black man. She smiled politely as I moved out of her way and then paused as she saw what the old man was doing. I don't know what the word would be to describe the look on her face, but a second later she giggled, smiled at me again, shrugged her shoulders and walked off. If I had been anyone else, anyone at all, there would have been a witty comment involved, a line of some sorts. But as it was I simply smiled back, and shrugged my shoulders as well.

I came around the corner of the next aisle and there was a middle aged woman furiously arguing with a young kid from pharmaceuticals. I couldn't tell what she was yelling about, but a moment later a manager came out and joined the fray. I wondered what in Walgreens could possibly be so important as to stir up such emotions between three people who didn't know each other, particularly on this snowy Saturday afternoon.

I was beginning to wonder what these other people were doing here. While the masses panicked over at Shop-Rite, I had taken Option B to stock up on a few supplies for the storm, but if it weren't for that I wouldn't be out in a storm like this. I certainly wouldn't be out just to argue with a pharmacy clerk, or even to stock up on rubbers. But maybe the argument was over something important, and maybe the old man was stocking up on rubbers because he planned on being snowed in for a very long time. The next shopper I ran into was slightly more puzzling.

I shouldn't say ran into, I should say tripped over, because as I carried my purchases up towards the register I practically tripped over a young girl sitting in the middle of an aisle. She was one of those girls that could have been fifteen or she could have been twenty-five,you can't really tell, and either way she was cute in a childish sort of way. She reminded me of someone I used to know. But what really threw me was that she was sitting in the middle of the aisle with greeting cards spread out in front of her. She was reading these cards, and picking new ones out of the rack, spreading them out across the floor and reading them over one by one. When I stumbled past her I apologized, and she took a second to nod her head in acknowledgement, never really bothering to look up. She was lost in her endeavor. I wonder if she even knew about the storm outside.

I made it home without incident, and spent the rest of the day alone in my apartment watching the weather out the window. I watched a few movies, read a little, wrote a little and as the night came I felt the urge to watch a movie that the landscape was beginning to remind me of. After The Day After Tomorrow this storm doesn't look like shit...and I was in a pretty good mood.

A little drink, a little rest, and I think I'm ready to go for tomorrow.

'Night All.

The Jesus Lobotomy:Resurrection

"What now boy? Or did you like it better when you honestly thought you were just like everybody else?" - T.O. Hob



This was that long day. That one where when all was said and done I couldn't tell whether I'd moved forward or backwards. The one where I remember why I do it all.

See yesterday was tough, hell, they've all been tough lately and there's been little to no silver in my lining, but yesterday ended differently. I spent the night curled up on the couch fighting off the darkness with a smile on my face. It was the damnest thing.

Somewhere in there I found something to hold onto, something which, as of late, has been fleeting. But as today went south I couldn't get that back. Yesterday was a day of wasted thousands, flat tires, and black marks on my reputation. A day where foul memories pervaded even the simplest recollection. But yesterday was a beatable day. Today...

Today there was that other thing. That thing that makes me who I am. Today I longed to bleed. Today I was The Beast once again, wanting only to take with me the wrongs that burden those weaker than me. Or those who seem weaker than me.

The truth is that my strength doesn't come from the same place as everyone else's. My strength has its own unique reserve. And since I'm the only one drawing on it, you would think it would be nay on limitless.

Today made me not so sure of that.

I spent the better part of the day longing for things I never had and was never really sure I wanted in the first place. Spent too much time thinking of things I can never have. Waited all day for something I knew couldn't happen.

And now it's time. Time to do it all again. Time to rest for the first time in a long time, and get ready to do battle again.

The Darkness isn't coming...

It's already here.

Airport

"You're late."

Yeah, I was coming back from Rutgers on this cold night and I decided to swing by the girls college and see if there was any lonely tail wandering around."

"I would be so proud of you if I thought for a second that was true."

Had to pick my old man up from the airport after Knightbeat last night, but his plane got stuck on the runway for a bit, and the cops wouldn't let me park so I just kept driving around. About my third time around I realized that the main road at Newark Airport is really just a bit oval...bit like a racetrack. But without another car to race I could only race against the clock. So I set the stopwatch on my wristwatch (first time I ever used that) and took off at about 70mph. I even dropped the Pontiac into Manual and took advantage of the tap-shift (second time I ever used that). My best time was 1:04. Which isn't bad, but isn't great. Next time you're there try and beat it, but remember Port Authority is on the lookout for suspicious activity, unless of course you're not Arabic and then you really don't have to worry about it.

I'm a bit bored, and don't really have a "big" entry prepared for today or tonight. I haven't had many comments here lately (or ever come to think of it). So in an attempt to come up with a major entry and some comments in the next few days I'm going to offer you a unique opportunity.

Ask me anything. Anything. And I'll answer honestly. Swear. You can ask me anything you want, just tag a comment on the bottom of this entry asking me whatever you want and letting me know who you are. If you know me and don't want to post your name, at least give me a hint. If you don't know me then why not post your name, a name only lets me know what people call you, not who you are. So ask me anything...or don't. All the same for now.

Back in a bit.

"It's 10 degrees out."

"Could be worse."

"How so?"

"Could be 9 degrees out."

(bemused grin) "You know I really expected more out of you on that one."

"Me too, but I think I burned myself out with all those Air Ethiopia jokes back in Terminal B."

Cold

"Now all you need is a paternity suit and the bad dye job and you'd really be just like your father."- King

I don't get cold. But for the last three or four days my whole body has been freezing and my head has been burning up. I reckon I'm sick and just too stupid to realize it. But this morning I woke up on the couch and could feel the cold seeping in through the window. It was 5:00 and I had a few minutes to get ready for work so I popped on the telly and watched that weather guy on Fox who always looks like he just stumbled in from a really great party and can't believe that anybody actually cares about the weather talk about how freakin' cold it is out. And the guy is shivering his ass off all bundled up in a thermo-jacket and polar apparel teeth chattering like they're about to fall out...and he's fucking inside. Friggin' weatherguys. But with all this talk of tsunami's, and glacial movements, and now this wicked cold it got me thinking of The Day After Tomorrow, which got me thinking about Emmy Rossum.

So now I'm running ten minutes late to work, skipped breakfast, skipped the shower, didn't even shave. Just brushed my teeth and ran out the door because things are getting hairy at the office. But I don't have a winter jacket and three steps out the door my ass is frozen. I stumble to my car and crack the door open, shove the keys in the ignition and get the bastard started.

It's so cold...

I turn my Ipod on and the damn thing is so frozen the words on the screen are all blurry and sluggish. I turn the HUD on in the Pontiac and where it usually says "ICE" during cold weather it now says "FUCK". Everything is frozen. I see a sign on the bank, says it's 18 degrees out and I just start screaming "YOU FUCKING LIAR." Because it's really about 4 degrees out and doesn't seem to be getting warmer.

Work sucks.

But by 11:00 I'm on my way out to clean up (because let's face it, I stink) and grab an early lunch (because let's face it, I'm fat and I'm hungry). I stop at Walgreens for razors and acne cream because I desperately need to shave and have a colossal blemish on my nose (but let's face it, it can't really make me any uglier). I am relieved to find that I've got the last box of razor blades in the entire store...until I find out they cost $20. So when I finally stop cursing, I begrudgingly hand over the cash and wander over to Dunkin' Donuts where I grab a steak, egg, and cheese sandwich for lunch (because let's face it, it's really just a cheseeburger on a bagel). I retreat home take care of the S's (shit, shower, shave)...type this up, and head back out to work because there's a lot to do and it's still very early in the day.

In honor of my return (although I've only been gone two weeks) to WRSU (www.nj.com/wrsu) tonight at 9:00 P.M. we'll resucitate an old sign off...

Fucking A', it's Tuesday.

I Hate Annette Bening

No, really I do. I don't hate a lot of people, but right now I hate her. Worst acceptance speech ever... I know who would have done better.

Straw Dogs

I find it exceedingly disturbing that I am always awake at 4:00 in the morning. Even when I manage to fall asleep at night I am always up by 4:00 in the morning.

It's awfully quiet around here at 4:00 in the morning and that has always bothered me. The silence makes me feel horribly alone.

I always assumed everyone else was asleep at this time, and that's why they made nary a noise. But a thought just occured to me, I'm awake at this time, and I hardly make any noise at all. I just sit here...listening to the silence.

What if I'm not the only one?

What if the rest of them are locked away in their own little cages, never sleeping, just listening...

What if the rest of them are just like me?

Took

"I don't know about you, but if I'm not completely shitty in the next fifteen minutes this night has been a complete and utter failure." - T.O. Hob, The Open Bar Theory

Seeing so much of it coming did very little to stop it from happening. Odd. God gives you a gift, shows you how it works, then refuses to let you use it for anyone's good. Come to think of it that's how it would seem God handles a lot of things.

Yesterday was long. Yesterday was tough. Yesterday is over so I'm not going to worry about it all too much.

It's today that's got me now. I've been unbelievably clear lately, despite the fog. So here goes nothing.

I fell asleep amidst minor fits and furies and stayed out for a whole three hours. I can trick my body into doing and thinking (and feeling...) lots of things, I can't trick it into staying asleep. Those three hours were more than I've gotten in a week, and even though I could have slept another two hours more my body woke up screaming, ENOUGH!

This head that has been all over the place thought of a new one. Soon I'm going to be out of a job, broke, and pissed off bitter beyond belief. I don't see how that can be any worse then anywhere else I've ever been.

Aside...someone once told me a story about how before they got to Rutgers they weren't that into Asian girls (really far aside now that I think about it), but after a few years of being surrounded by them they became really into Asian girls. Without any real reason then switched sides of the spectrum since the simple quantity of Asian girls at Rutgers naturally improved their chances. I, on the other hand, was in a similar locale to this guy...and never felt that change. This goes well on to proving my theory. A man's dick is only as honest as his options, but a man's heart is true through and through.

Most writers are thrilled when someone compares their work to that of a great author. Me? Not so much. I wrote something once and a professor based a whole class around the story I wrote by comparing it to Hemingway. Most folks would be over the moon on that one, I wasn't because I understood exactly what she was saying. If she had compared it to the work of a nobody, or even a good author my insecurity riddled mind might have let it slide. But Hemingway...ah, Hemingway. See the implicit understanding in comparing any amateur writer to Hemingway is that their work can be like that of Hemingway, just not as good. No one drops the qualifier, it's just assumed. So by saying that something I wrote reminded her of Hemingway, she was really saying, "This reminds me of Hemingway...just nowhere near as good." And of course she would be absolutely right...and I wouldn't mind being in that company anyway, the list of authors "not as good as Hemingway" is a long and proud one. I do however believe I would be the first bus driver on that list.

And finally...the point of this rather pointless entry. It's 3:30 in the morning and I have a feeling, that feeling, that same old special feeling. I've done this before and I've always been right. Today is one of those days. Something will happen today that I'm not expecting, it will be the cornerstone of this day, and maybe of many days to come. Maybe it will involve it, her, them. Maybe it will be something that affects the whole world, maybe just me. Maybe the world will turn ass side up, and leave us staring out at unfamiliar skies. Maybe I'll meet someone famous, or important, or special, or all three. Maybe nothign will happen at all. I don't know because I can't see it just yet, but as soon as I do, you'll be the first ones to hear about it.

No Ordinary Skeleton

"While I do appreciate your enthusiasm I regret to inform you that the "Punjab Lasso" is not a dirty sexual proverb involving a length of rope and Scandinavian girls with pretty singing voices." - Gaston Leroux, in response to A Letter from T.O. Hob

The following phone conversation ensued upon my return from my first route this morning...

Caller: Hi, yes. I'm calling about Kenneth Jr.
(Now of course I assume that Kenneth Jr. is a kid on one of my buses. There are about a thousand of the little buggers so I'm more impressed when I recognize a name then I am surprised when I don't)
Me: What bus is Kenneth on?
Slightly Confused Caller: Bus?
Me: Yes sir. I can't help you without a bus or route number.
More Confused Caller: Uh...
Me: A school name? Kenneth's last name?
Duh Caller: I don't think Ken is on a bus.
Me: This is a school bus company sir. I think maybe you have the wrong number.
His Turn To Confuse Me Caller: Is this Julie's husband?
(This question caught me particularly offguard because it was the third assumption of my status today and it was only 9:04 A.M. The other two were more easily answered, "How many children do you have?" (No, I was busy, I graduated just last May). or "I have the perfect guy for you!" (Not even close skippy...) but this one wasn't so easily deflected. It bothered me, but thrilled me as well...the idea that I could be somebody's husband.)
Me: No sir.
Again Caller: Can I just talk to Benjamin?
Me: No, sir, I don't think you understand. You have the wrong number.
I Want To Fucking Kill Him Caller: Can I at least talk to Kenneth Sr.?

At this point I hang-up, because it's 9:06 A.M. I haven't slept in days and things just aren't getting any better.

"Are you trying to grow a beard?" - Them
"I'm not trying not to grow a beard." - Me

Bookshopping. One of my few joys. So last night I visited Barnes and Nobles in an attempt to not end up watching The Phantom of the Opera again. It worked, but I couldn't find a book I wanted to read. This induced the following panic attack narrative moment:

Maybe they have a new Laymon book. Don't be stupid. Of course they don't. The man's been dead for three years. Fuck. What am I going to read? Maybe something serious. But not too serious. I don't feel too serious. Maybe something funny. But I don't really want funny. I want substance. Not too pretentious. Not popular. No DaVinci Code. No Nicholas Sparks. Something classical. Proust? No, Proust will make me want to throw myself under a train. Maybe I'll just read Phantom of the Opera again...or Good Omens. No! Marlowe. That's it! Let's find Marlowe. Where's Marlowe? No? M'am where's Shakespeare? No. I don't want to read Shakespeare I want to read Marlowe but I can't find Marlowe and I thought that maybe Marlowe would be near Shakespeare. M'am? M'am? Ok. Keep walking. Keep looking. No ethnic books. No books with niche audiences. No books written for women. No Jane Austen. I'm just not in the mood. Hey, that looks good, but no I've read that already. Orwell's Animal Farm with illustrations by Ralph Steadman!?!? Wow. $35! Fuck. If I were to quit my job I wouldn't be able to waste money on things like that so I shouldn't just to practice. Hey. I don't like that feeling. Not buying something to conserve money. Ugh. Oh shit, I better not walk past that aisle again, that girl's going to think I'm stalking her or something. It must look pretty funny an ape in a trenchcoat walking up and down every aisle while carrying on a one sided conversation on his cellphone...

Because yes ladies and gentleman this is when I realized I was talking to myself...and recording it all onto my phones voice recorder. And I still hadn't found a book until...

Oh, hey. That one looks nice maybe I'll read that, except...you never judge a book by it's cover.

And so I gave up...and hurried out of the store with a glimmer of madness in my eyes.

"What do you have? An idea? Don't be a fool. What good is an idea when you don't have a world to work it on?" - T.O. Hob

And finally...I fought the urge again. I didn't spend a Knightbeat free Tuesday watching The Phantom of the Opera alone, instead I finished my thirteen hour work day by sitting home watching television...with the intention of catching the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson because...wait for it...Emmy Rossum was on!

Until I realized that, being a complete moron, I misunderstood the schedule. Emmy was on the Late Late Show on January 11th...which was technically this morning. See the Late Late Show is really on early early, at 12:35 A.M. So the show that followed last night's Letterman was today's Ferguson. Which means I missed Emmy...again, because I completely forgot she was on Leno last night. Which means...wait for it...I've now destroyed all three of my recent minor obsessions. No more Phantom for now, no more musicals (how I miss Maurice Chevalier), and I completely missed Emmy twice. So no more obsessions...what do I do now?

Start looking for new ones I suppose. Any suggestions?

"To be good, I needed only to be loved." - Erik, The Phantom of the Opera

Monday Moments

"How can you argue with an ass like that?" - Rigby

"Did you just..." - King

"Yeah, Kind of surprised myself with that one too." - Rigby

I've had better days. Had worse too. But I've never left a room feeling so agitated over nothing in my life. I don't have my plan just yet. Don't know what I plan on doing next. But one thing is becoming clear. I can't keep doing this. Not like this at least. Things need to change.

I spent so long worrying about fixing the big picture that I let the small things get out of hand. It's the normal everyday life going a certain way sort of bullshit that we all go through. And I know how angry I get when other people give-up, cash it in, pull the plug and start trying to get used to something they don't really want to get used to. And it's starting to piss me off too. Because I know. I know the things not everyone does. I just don't know how to use them.

Maybe it's because I like the idea of what I could be here so much more than I like the idea of what I could be anywhere else. I don't want this, but I don't want any of that either. I can get what I want no matter where I am...so why haven't I?

So this isn't it. It's not the beginning of anything, not the notice that things are going to change, not that big blazing neon sign that reads "Salvation Here", or "This Is Not An Exit", or "Eat At Joes". This isn't anything like that.

This is just Monday. And this has been a Monday Moment.

"It's entirely too bad that no one in your life ever took the time to tell you to go fuck yourself. I'm convinced it would have done you a world of good." - T.O. Hob

Voila Le Pere Trompe-La-Mort

"Though I be a man of many names in truth I have just one,
they call me father, brother friend and some they call me son.
They call me sinner, ghost be gone, he who haunts your dreams.
And though I have so many names it very often seems,
the ones I love whose names I call have but one for me...
they call me Not-At-All."
- T.O. Hob, Called By Name

Last night was the first time in three weeks that I haven't spent my Saturday night sitting alone in a movie theater watching The Phantom of The Opera. I wish I could call that progress, but truth be told I'll probably end up at the theater tonight. It's the risk you run when you force a minor obsession on something to fend off the growing reliance on something else. It's like shaking crack by collecting coins only to find that when you close your eyes all you can think of is funny colored nickels.

I really am something else...just what I'm not sure of.

I think I need to clean myself up a little, clean my place up a little too. Get some shit straightened out. Get my head on right. I'm going to be much busier very soon, but somehow I can already tell I'll be much more relaxed. I'm waiting for that challenge to come, waiting for my next fight.



I have seen hell. I can tell when things are going south and when the shit is about to hit the fan. I see all these things with the detached eye of a casual observer. I don't watch this as if it was my life, I watch it as if it was a story. A story from which many lessons can be learned. This is one of my gifts. One of my horrible, horrible gifts. The idea that I must be who I am right now, for now, until I can make everyone understand that I've earned my chance. That I've earned the opportunity to stand amongst men. That I understand the things we're not meant to understand. That I am nearly there.

It doesn't seem like the sort of thing that can be done. But...

"But you forget, we're Palombas. That means we can do pretty much anything that doesn't involve talent, grace, skill, or intelligence." - Palomba

Regretting Madness: The Revenge of The Jesus Lobotomy

"The goal is to spread your obsessions thin enough that they simply become other things you're really really interested in." - T.O. Hob

Watch me now.

Yesterday I turned 24. For 24 hours that actually meant something, for 24 hours being 24 was special. Then it wasn't. Then it was over. Then it was normal. Forget 23 ever existed. Forget that each one of those years meant a god damn thing, because as of today...yesterday doesnt' exist.

It was the most meaningless birthday of all time. 24 is nothing compared to 10 (double digits), 13 (teenager), 17 (license), 18 (LEGAL!), 20 (out of teens), and 21 (ALCOHOL!). Not much else till thirty now. But more so, it was the first time that my birthday seemed as unimportant as we always pretended to think it was. No cake, no candles, no happy birthday songs. We just sort of rolled with it. Fuck the sympathy though, because despite it all it was a pretty decent day.

I learned a long time ago that when a much anticipated day goes to shit you need to just forget about it altogether. There was that Thanksgiving where I ended up alone in New Brunswick and I made the mistake of making myself a microwave turkey and stuffing dinner. It was one of the most pathetic moments of my life, sitting alone in the woods picking at a Swanson. And so I learned when a day goes to shit, just make the best of what's left and move on. So no sprinkled donut with a candle in it for me, instead I hit New Brunswick for yet another Knightbeat. But when it was over we booked out so quick I could barely catch my breath and I found myself alone at 10:05 on my big day.

To be fair there were places I could have gone, but not really places I felt like being. So I considered my other options, my everyday options, the things that normally keep me happy. But...

You know that game where you make everything anyone says dirty (and funny) by adding the words "in bed" to it? Now try it with those same things but add "Alone on your birthday."

Get the picture?

I wanted to go see "The Phantom of The Opera" again (it soothes me...let the gay jokes begin) but I didn't because it would be pathetic to go see "The Phantom of The Opera"...alone on my birthday.

I skipped dinner so by the time I got back to Fair Lawn I was starving, so I was going to stop for a late dinner/early breakfast over at the Empress, and then I couldn't do it because it just didn't seem right to sit in a diner eating breakfast in the middle of the night...alone on my birthday.

Knowing how foolish I was being, but unwilling for the moment to acknowledge the fact, I ended up sitting home browbeating myself over my ever growing insecurities. Scaring myself silly over things I needn't even think about.

Needless to say I didn't sleep a wink, but thinking I had the morning off I wasn't all that concerned...

Of course things change.

And at 5:30 this morning I was on my way into work because many of the people who work for me have little sense of responsibility. I could have lived with all that, but then things would have been all too easy.

My father (or Satan as we like to call him) was in a mood. And my father in a mood is not a pleasant thing...for me. So after hour upon hour of dealing with his nonsensical ranting (occasionally punctuated with odd sulking silences) I'd had enough.

By the seventh time he yelled at me this morning I felt forced to respond. So I told him to shove it, but unfortunately he's become accustomed to me not taking his shit, and without the element of surprise I can't elicit the requisite innane retort on his part which would lead up to my climactic issue resolving speech. Instead he just becomes quiet and plots all the while waiting for coincidence to throw him a bone.

His doggy treat of the day came in the form of the new office computer. Keep in mind this is a man who thought Gutenberg was frivolous when he came up with moveable type. The new computer was required (I had no office computer and was not so inclined as to ask my secretary "permission" whenever I chose to use hers). The man wants a network, but refuses me the proper equipment. Wants me to take full advantage of the new computers capabilities, but refuses me an internet connection. He thinks the internet is for games. And while I agree that internet has many silly little uses (such as this), and can come in handy for things such as downloading music, chatting on AIM, or searching for pictures of your favorite eighteen year old celebrities it is also the single greatest tool available to any business today. The old man doesn't see this. He'd rather argue about things he never taught me then let me make progress with things I already know.

I spent a good part of the day furious, the rest of it just plain exhausted. I haven't slept much in the past three days, haven't had much peace.

I'm haunted.



I never did get it. Could never figure it out.

I haven't slept in my bed in nearly four months. Haven't stepped foot in that room more than once or twice since then. Haven't been able to.

See that night I gave something up under the guise of asking God to take it away. The truth was it didn't need to be taken, I was really just giving it up myself. The miracle is that it actually did go away. It disappeared. Flew off into the night with so much other misery.

And then I realized. It had taken the good with the bad. So much good in fact that it didn't leave me with enough to keep going. I was spent.

And I'd done it all to myself.

So I couldn't go back into that room. Not until I righted a wrong. Not till I set the record straight. Not till I got it all back.

So I haven't been back in since. And now I know.

I could have gotten it all back so long ago. Could have snapped my fingers and been done with it. I haven't avoided the room because I was afraid of what going back in there would do to me, I've avoided going back in there because I was afraid of admitting what I'd already done.

I'd moved on.

Not completely, not for good, not in the way which would fix all this. But I'd moved on nonetheless.

And this is where I've found myself.

24 years old, on the verge of so many decisions I should have already made. Ready for so much else, but never quite sure how to get it.

24 years old...and well on the way.

So...watch me now.

"Did you ever think that maybe we latch onto one thing so we can let go of another?" - Palomba

Happy Birthday To Me: A Thoroughly Unoriginal Entry

"I know I can't refuse, and yet, I wish I could. Oh God if I agree what horrors wait for me..." - C. Daae, The Phantom of The Opera

"It's like the Fourth of July, except instead of fireworks you get me." - Palomba

Sometimes you just can't win.

Monday was that sort of day. No matter what I did it blew up in my face, but when it was over I was no worse for the wear, so what difference did any of it really make? I walked a thousand miles and ended up exactly where I started.

I haven't slept since...Saturday was it? I don't know, but there's very little chance that I'll be awake when the sun comes up this morning. I just don't have it in me right now.

I just watched Mystic River, I know this because I remember watching the opening credits and the closing credits, but I don't really remember watching anything of the movie just now. I was looking at the television and all, but at some point I stopped paying attention, and started thinking of something else.

What you ask?

I have no idea.

Mystic River is on again in an hour, maybe I'll watch it again and try to figure out what I was thinking about last time.

So yeah...this would seem like a complete waste of an entry, except it isn't.

See I've come further in this entry than in any entry I've ever written before. I may look like I'm standing in the exact same place as when I started, and I suppose I am.

Except now...well, now I'm a year older.

"Past the point of no return. The final threshold. The bridge is crossed. So stand and watch it burn. We’ve passed the point of no return." - The Phantom of the Opera

Resolution

Happy New Year...or not. It remains to be seen how happy this new year will be.

I for one am hopeful.

As the new year gets underway we take (if only for a second) notice of the things other people have decided to change about themselves, the things they hope to accomplish within the next 365 days, the ways they want to make their own little worlds a little bit better.

As I sat at dinner tonight I was reminded that I hadn't actually made any resolutions by the fact that others were talking about theirs.

Some want to curb their vices, from drinking, to gambling, to the occasional drug use.

Nick and Sean want to lose some weight.

Porterhouse's resolution seems to involve sitting in a bar for twelve consecutive hours drinking whiskey, eating chicken wings, and continuing to be his normal obnoxious self.

My seven year old brother's ambitious resolution is to become a superhero, and to that end he insists that his new name be "Super Naked Lad".

The best of luck to all of them.

My resolution is a little different. In fact I doubt it is really a resolution at all.

It's more of a dream.

I hope, with all my heart, that 2005 can even hold a candle to the greatness that was 2004.

The way we judge time is an awfully arbitrary thing, and as I frequently prove the definition of a "year" is both bendable and breakable. Did the year start with the September of my last year of college? Because then it's been over for several months. Did it start with the beginning of my blogging habit? That means it's been over since December 14th. Could it start with my night of drunken debauchery? Because then I have till May. Can it please start with the last time I saw them? And then start over and over every time I see them again? Because then with any luck, this year will never end.

But no matter how much I hold on, no matter how much I wish it to be so. This year is over. And we won't ever get it back. But now we have next year, and the year after that, and the year after that, on and on till we meet our end and then we won't much worry about how many years have come and gone but only about what comes next.

2004 was great because I never knew what was coming next no matter how much I thought I did.

I made people laugh in 2004, made people cry, made people think. I wrote, I did, I lived. I traveled to New Orleans and listened to a beautiful woman sing all night long, I sat in the Olive Branch and swapped stories with new friends and old. I threw a barbecue that people will remember for a long time to come. I wrote thousands of pages and millions of words all for reasons I have yet to understand. I told people how I felt, even when it was awkward, or embarassing, or just plain unpleasant. And I like to think they respected me for it. I said things I'd never said before, went to places I'd never been, and did things I'd never done.

I got completely hammered for the first time in my life, graduated college, watched one of my best friends get married, went to a handful of graduation parties, buried my last grandfather, and started my job in the real world...all in a period of ten days.

I had my moments...yes I did. I had my moments.

And as 2004 fades away, and 2005 steps up to take it's place I'd just like to say...

To all of you I know and love, and to the strangers who I have yet to have the pleasure of knowing, Good Luck, God Bless, and Happy New Year.