The Consistency of Emotional Tenses
It happens the same way every time. I meet a new woman. The one-in-a-million type. I project all my hopes and dreams onto her. I see my future with her. I genuinely feel that I am able to commit myself to her love. That she is the last woman I am going to be with. I let myself love her. I tell my friends that “This time is different” and “I’ve never felt this way”. [[MORE]]We spend moments...
Thoughts on Therapy
(An exerpt from a conversation with a friend in France.) The therapy thing is an interesting topic. I have many discussions about it with my American friends, but very few with my international friends. There is certainly a negative connotation to therapy. And in my experience, the folks who judge therapy as something for stupid, weak, uninformed people are often the ones who need it the most....
Giving Up is Hard to Do
I give up. I don’t want to help you anymore. I don’t want to enable your disgusting habit of self-inflicted negativity and the ease of which you slide into it every time the circumstances lack perfection. You always seem to be waiting for the perfect circumstances: the perfect time, the perfect person, the perfect tone. The imperfections in the circumstances are what reveal perfection in us. The...
End of Year Wrap-Up
End of Year, Section 1: My 2012 Musical Wrap-Up 1. On October 29, 2011, I began listening to my iTunes library in alphabetical order by song title. On September 24, 2012 (that’s 332 days later), I finished. In the process, I rated each song and created a four-star and a five-star playlist of the corresponding ranked songs. I also deleted every album that contained more one- and two-star songs...
Happy to Add "Stroke Survivor" to My Resumé
(This is an informational entry.) On Tuesday, September 11, 2012, at 1:46pm, I suffered a stroke. I was rushed to the hospital and admitted a few hours later. But the doctors struggled to find the cause. Then on Wednesday, September 12, at around 3:00pm, I suffered another stroke. The doctors ran another barrage of MRIs, CT Scans, and ultrasounds and ultimately found a small tear in the vertebral...
The Color of Dream
Remnants of the blood red sun gave birth to an orange sky that lay quietly beyond the windshield. I twisted in my seat and fed the belt buckle into the clasp by my left hip. I looked directly at the driver’s face trying to determine who was in control, but the sun’s gaze skewed my view and kept her definable features hidden. Sensing another presence in the car, I...
No Needles for Me, Please
I hate needles. They’re gross. I avoid them if at all possible. I don’t even donate blood. (I know, I know, I’m a bad citizen. Shoot me. But don’t poke me.) But when it came to arthroscopic knee surgery, I couldn’t avoid the pointy little buggers. So after I slipped into my stylish johnny and hopped under the covers of my equally stylish and comfortable gurney at the Surgery Center of the...
The Pencil Request
First day of algebra class and I forget a pencil. Awesome. Gotta ask someone sitting near me. Too bad the only person in earshot is the starting point guard for the varsity basketball team. And I’m definitely NOT the starting small forward. Or even a bench player. I’m just some 14-year-old kid who doesn’t have a pencil.[[MORE]] Great. Okay, all right, no problem. Just ask. But I gotta be cool,...
The Death of Rock was published on MusicJobs.com
The Effect of Disbelief on Reality (and Love)
I don’t believe in this stuff. This stuff simply does not happen in real life. I am not new to dating. But I swear to you now – I swear on my mother’s life – that I have never felt like this. And I simply don’t believe it. · MONDAY, JANUARY 2, 2012 There was nothing special about what led up to our first date. I had woken up sprawled across my bed, half covered in sheets; my mouth was...
She was blonde. She was tall. Legs like sunflower stems. I caught her eye briefly, but she just smiled politely and continued to walk past figuring I was another average customer. She had no idea what the day had planned for her in that obscenely crowded Apple Store on the Third Street Promenade, her place of employ. But I had it all figured out already. The second I saw her I knew how it was...
The Birthday of the Ex
I’ve been agitated and tired this whole week. My sleep schedule’s been off, I’ve been acting selfishly, distracted, checked out, thoughtless, easily annoyed, all that external projection stuff that comes with an indefinable feeling in my gut. It’s like a ball of anger is creeping slowly from my mid-section to my furthest extremities and nothing I do physically or vocally releases that stress in a...
The Death of Rock was published on Thought Catalog
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/the-death-of-rock/ October 2011. I have released eight albums in eight years. Six hours and twenty-four minutes of music. I feel squeezed dry. The last trickles of music seeping from my pores like blood. I’ve sat in my bedroom with a guitar between my heart and my hands and found melodies and textures that never seemed to be my possession. I simply felt them...
Divorce On the First Date was published at Thought...
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/divorce-on-the-first-date/ “I don’t believe in divorce,” Lisa declared in between bites of her spinach lasagna. “Uh, I’m sorry?” I inquired as my mind jarringly shifted from the lovely drought of wine I just swallowed to the thought of a ferociously sensitive and heart-wrenching topic. “I don’t believe anyone who gets married should ever get a divorce.” I was...
I Write At Night
There’s a word for how I prepare for bed. It’s spelled R-O-U-T-I-N-E. I pour my glass of water, drain my bladder, wash my hands, floss, brush, take a sip from the glass, shut off my cell phone, stretch my back and legs, and climb into bed. But it doesn’t end there. I open the top drawer of the nightstand to the left of my bed and unveil my journal and its dedicated pen. I open...
The tablecloths reminded me of Marilyn Monroe when they caught a sudden gust of wind. It kind of turned me on a little, actually. But my wife didn’t share the same rousing “tingle” in her britches when I gently nudged her with this visual. In fact, upon the breath of my first chuckle, she immediately threw bolts of lightning into my chest with her eyes, cracked the asphalt with her...