The Squid and The Whale

Don't think of anything. Just don't. Don't read anything, don't watch anything, don't do anything. Don't sing a few words from your favorite song, don't even whistle the tune. Just don't. When you have an idea, just don't do anything to interfere, until you have that idea down where you know you'll never lose it. Because once it's gone, it's gone.

I'm tired.

I don't really know if I love what I do, don't really know if I like who I am anymore. I've been tired before. Been scared and alone in the cold and the dark petrified of what's going to happen next. But mostly I've just been tired before.

I've never felt this way before though.

I've never had to forget about everything else before just so I could enjoy myself. I love to read, but most of the books I've read lately haven't been able to catch my fancy. I love movies, but anything I see for the first time now seems to be missing something. I love music, but can't seem to find too much that hits the exact right spot anymore. But tonight I forgot about everything else, and not in the normal put it out of your mind for now sort of way but in the classic Palomba forget about everything sort of way. The sort of way where everything but what you're doing really is gone.

It's a great sort of way.

It used to be easier.

But tonight I did it so that I could enjoy myself, so that I can sit in the darkened movie theater and watch a good movie, and laugh where I was supposed to laugh and feel sad where I was supposed to feel sad and connect with the characters everywhere I was supposed to make a connection. Tonight I let it all go...and enjoyed myself immensely.

But like I said it all used to be easier. Tonight as I drove back to the office it all started to drain back into me, bit by bit the horror returned.

Oddly enough it wasn't as bad as it sounds.

Instead of letting it get to me I just thought about something else.

I thought about saying, "I can't remember the things I thought about before I thought about the things I think about now." And I laughed at how true that was at the time.

I thought about all the things that I know. About all the things I wish I could show other people, even though I'm certain most of them know these things already. I thought about old friends, and new friends, and friends I've yet to meet.

I thought about writing something.

I thought about how I was going to die.

I remember thinking in college that I would have liked to go to high school at one of those fancy academies in New York, just because I thought it would be cool to see the city during my lunch or while I waited for a ride home. I remember thinking how cool it would be to be able to go to the museums everyday and see broadway plays and eat at fancy restaurants and all the other things which seem like they would be inevitable if I spent a lot of time in the city. I don't remember thinking this when I was in high school. I don't remember what I thought in high school.

I remember at DePaul all I really thought about was getting out of DePaul, and how the whole process was making me pretty miserable. But I also remember when I used to miss the bus, how I'd sit out front of the school leaning against the same tree everytime waiting for my mother to pick me up. I remember it was warm, and it felt good to be able to take my tie off and unbutton my collar. Sometimes I'd even roll up my pants till they were cuffed sloppily just below me knees. I'd sit there and play with a piece of grass, or a rock, or something simple because I didn't read much during this time, and although I'm sure it must have had one I don't actually ever recall being in DePaul's library. I know I must have been thinking of something during that time, but for the life of me I don't remember what.

I remember at Manchester, before I really made friends, I'd sit alone at lunch and try to ignore the older kids who would give me shit. There were a bunch of us who didn't really belong anywhere, and we'd all sit together. And even though we were allowed to sit wherever we wanted for some reason we'd all always sit in the same place, in the same order, and have the same exact conversation before drifting off into an uncomfortable silence. I must have been thinking something during all of this, but for the life of me...

I remember at Marist how I used how I used to take the bus home every weekend. It was a long rider so sometimes I would read on the bus, but usually I wouldn't, usually I'd just sit there, not talking to anyone, just waiting for my stop. I must have been thinking of something during that ride, but...

So right now I remember what I thought about when I couldn't remember what I was thinking about back then, but how long will that last? How long before I forget all that too?

There was a day where my life changed, where everything became different. But in reality so much is still exactly the same.

I've never woken up and thought, "I don't want to go to work." Never woke up and thought, "I hate my job." I usually just wake up and think, "There's work to be done."

Never before have I had to forget about everything just to enjoy myself though. That's not good it bothers me a bit...

There's so much going on in my head right now, so much spinning about tonight. About today really. I got more sleep today then I did in the past week combined. It's probably the longest I've slept in about a year. Still I woke up tired. Woke up beat.

I don't know what's going on, I don't know what's happening.

I just know I don't like it, and for a guy who is rarely disappointed in this world because he expects so very little from it and gets so very much, this could be a very bad thing.

The Creation of The World

"Ussher deduced that the first day of Creation began at nightfall preceding Sunday October 23, 4004 BC in the Proleptic Julian calendar, near the autumnal equinox, while Lightfoot similarly deduced that Creation began at nightfall near the autumnal equinox, but in the year 3929 BC." - Wikipedia, on Creation In The Usher-Lightfoor Calendar

Hello All...

It's the middle of the night and I'm sitting at the desk in my office with all the lights off and the heat not on. It's cold and dark...because I made it that way.

I've been thinking that if I'm lucky enough to grow old and gray that I may just look back on October 2005 and say that I've never had to work as hard for nothing as I have in this month. It won't be the month that I was the busiest, it won't be the month that was the toughest, it won't be the month that was the worst. But it may just be the month I had to work the hardest in. I'll have logged well over 400 hours this month, have slept very little, have seen my friends and family even less.

One year ago right this second I was standing on a street corner in Philadelphia waiting in the cold to go to the lamest giant haunted prison I have ever been in.

The other night someone told me I took the easy way out. (Why is it that all too often when I use the phrase "Someone told me" that someone is Corey?) I disagreed, but I can see how someone may think that. They don't get what I'm trying to do, they don't know what I've gotten myself into. They can't see how far in over my head I am. They can't see how much I love it, and how afraid of it all I really am. It's not just him, it's everyone. I don't mind.

We talked about April 19th, 2004 a night on which nothing happened, but somehow a night that has shaped everything that has happened to me ever since. I don't pretend to be able to understand it, but somehow that night changed everything. It seems a little silly to say now, but until the next big thing happens that will remain the most important night of my life. It seems impossible to pin something so important down to just one night, but then again...

"Creation began at nightfall preceding Sunday October 23, 4004 BC..."

And if that's true, well then...

"So if this really is the 6,009th anniversary of the day the world was created (or pulled out of some pile of muck), then I say cheers to that, and hope that I may be one of the first to wish it many, many more." - T.O. Hob

Beginning

Smoke 'em if you got 'em kiddies, because Palomba's got his "A" game on and we're going to war...

Tonight. Tomorrow. Never.

There is no light. We Run On

Dirty Little Secrets: It Could Be Cancer

"You've gotta love days like this, if for no other reason than that no one else will." - T.O. Hob

"Hey, it could be worse. It could be cancer." - Palomba

Fantasy?

I waiver.

Mind Games. Bottle Rockets. Evil Pickle. Aflac.

Aflac girl called me the other day about the bill. If she wasn't drop dead gorgeous I would still be thrilled to hear from her. She has an amazing voice. Whenever she calls she says, "Hey Chris." in this elongated half lilting sing song sort of way with just enough huskiness to make it more than sweet, and just enough sweetness to make it irresistible. I'm not easily flustered, but I think I blush on the phone. This girl has her act down, she seriously has one of the three most beautiful voices I have ever heard (the others being the one that reminds me of tiny tinkling bells and which I will never hear again, and the other theo one with a soothing/saving quality with which she could say the most amazing things.) I'm seriously considering not paying next month's bill on time just so she has to call me...I wonder what she would sound like angry.

I can be such a perv.

In other news...I'm working on what's going to be my last work related entry. After this big one coming up there will be no more than a passing mention of work or the occasional work related anecdotes. No more rants. I've just had enough. Work has been hellacious lately, taking up 20 hour chunks of my day and leaving me with little time to even think of anything else. And my dad's becoming quite the asshole.

I just finished reading Sean Wilsey's memoir "Oh! The Glory of It All." and I have to say I was really impressed. By I also was fascinated by the way his family is both an extreme version and a watered down version of my family at the same time. That's sort of depressing when you stop and think about it.

It got me started on stories of my life again, not a memoir, or even a complete story...just something. I never can figure out what it will be.

There's a lot of stories I want to tell again, honest little blobs of nothing that I almost obsessively think I can turn into something. Something real. Something truthful. Something interesting. I don't know.

We will see.

That Would Have Been A Whole Lot Cooler If It Had Worked

Ain't things supposed to be getting easier?

"Yeah you got it tough kid. But not like I had it tough. When I was a babe my mother used to beat me with her hand for crying, then she'd beat me with a stick for hurting her hand." - Laz Jones

There was an older woman in the room and she was screaming at us. The pretty young woman to my left was on the verge of tears and I kept reaching out and rubbing her back to calm her down. I kind of liked it though and I felt dirty for wanting to protect her. I remember how warm she was. The little kid on my other side was amazingly calm, glaring at the older woman. I think it was his mother. I decided she might have been pretty a dozen years ago, and still she was a handsome woman. But she was angry in an ugly way. Most of her anger was directed at the pretty young woman, but still she had enough for me and the little kid. I wanted to punch her, but my middle finger was broken and I couldn't seem to get the momentum going to swing at her. Besides I liked rubbing the pretty girls back with my right hand, and the little kid had a patient but strong deathgrip on my left arm. The older woman moved and the pretty young woman bolted for the window, throwing herself through it and plummeting towards the ground. The older woman shrieked as I thundered past her, lunging half out the window to try and grab the pretty young woman. I couldn't reach. That didn't stop the little kid though, still gripping my arm he launched himself over me and out the window. He grabbed her. But she didn't want to be grabbed so she kicked and screamed, the little kid held on. The older woman threw herself on top of me and I couldn't tell if she was trying to hurt me or help me. Either way she was heavier then I would have expected, and just as warm as the pretty young woman. There was a noise. We all stopped squirming. Then the building came down.


I walked into the bar at the end of Velvet Goldmine and Ewan McGregor was sitting at his table. He was dressed like his character in the movie sitting in a scene of the movie, but he wasn't in the movie, so he was Ewan not Kurt. I said, "I know who you are." But he said I didn't. I argued with him, "Just say it. Just say who you are." But he wouldn't. The waiter brought him a pint of dark beer. He brought me an orange soda. This shook my confidence. But I wouldn't relent. Finally I stood up from the table, not angry, but loud and said..."Just say it, just say who you are. I already know who you are." Without ever bothering to look at me he took a sip of his dark pint of beer and said over the top of his glass, "You don't even know who you are." With that the Ewan/Kurt beast put me in my place.

I was sitting in a familiar place with a familiar group of people whose names I don't all know, when an old friend showed up. He walked into the room like he'd never left, accompanied by a swoosh of brown off to his side. I was glad, although not altogether surprised, to see him. But I could see him. He acknowledged me, but never really talked to me. Just sort of went about this thing as if he'd never left. But there was something strange. I looked over my shoulder. Standing there, dressed all in brown, was a girl I used to know. She had her back to me but I still recognized her (not in a pervy sort of way either, just in a way that everything about her was familiar). I wanted to say hello, but I couldn't. Wanted to chat a bit, but my voice wouldn't cooperate. Everyone else was gathering off to one side of the room. I was confused, but I still felt good. Then the lights went out and I was lost in the darkness.

There is no light...we run on.

Climbing The Hill

"Open doors would soon be shut
So I went from day to day
Tho' my life was in a rut
"Till I thought of what I'd say
Which connection I should cut
I was feeling part of the scenery
I walked right out of the machinery
My heart going boom boom boom
"Hey" he said "Grab your things
I've come to take you home." - Peter Gabriel, Solsbury Hill

"What do I do? What do I do ?!? You want a paycheck this week? Yes? That's what I fucking do." - Palomba

"You can't stop me. You can't even slow me down." - T.O. Hob

It wasn't one year to the day, but it was roughly a year give or take. I said things. Don't know if I should have. I was ashamed at the time. Not anymore. Not...any...more.

What is it about being a kid right out of college?

The other night I had a dream. It was my last week of college. I was surrounded by all the people I'd come to know and love. We were all moving towards a single brilliant finale. There was no fear, no trepidation. There were no loose ends. Just an end. A beginning. So much happened in the dream that was exactly like real life. But for some reason it all just glowed a little bit more.

It wasn't nostalgia, it was understanding. Before I woke up that morning my mind raced through everything that has happened to me in the past year, and though it was all true to what happened to me, it just seemed...different. It was like I was watching a movie version of my life, or reading a story that had been written once I was gone. It wasn't the benefit of hindsight, it was the fruition of my foresight that got to me. I knew how special everything was when it was going on, and I was careful to enjoy it without getting too overwhelmed. But in the dream I was overwhelmed...and it was amazing.

Then it all started popping. It was like little lights going off under my eyelids and I swear I was "awake" for at least part of it. But I was seeing things. It was like I was watching other people's lives. People I know...or knew. People I've left behind (or have they left me?). It was interesting, and comforting, and made me just a little bit sad. To see so many people I've loved doing so many different things. Some of them were doing great, others not so much. But the common factor was that they were all doing it without me. I missed being a part of all their lives, but more importantly I missed them. All of them.

When I woke up that morning I was feverish. Could barely open my mouth. Everything hurt. I was struggling to get out of bed, but when I finally made it I couldn't walk, so I just slouched down against my bedroom wall and threw my Ipod on. I spent the rest of the day collapsed there listening to some of my favorite music.

Many hours later I ran into a stretch of my favorite songs, most of which are tied with great moments or times in my life. They kind of put the piss and vinegar back in me, and suddenly I was up. And moving...and practically bouncing off the walls.

No matter how they were doing I'd at least seen that everyone else was ok. And I was ok. Everything was ok. I'd gone through a year in only a few minutes and I'd spent most of a day struggling with it but when I finally reached the top...shit.

I mean, shit. I mean, Holy Fucking Shit.

It wasn't a breakthrough it wasn't the beginning or end of a chapter. It was just a friggin' fantastic way to spend a day. And despite being so beaten and battered that I'm practically dead...I feel fine.

I feel fine.

No...

I feel great.


With love and respect...

There is no light...we run on.