Monday
Walking through the gates is the most depressing part. That’s why I always linger, smoking whatever cigarettes I have. 9:00am. There should be a law on coming in this early.
Then again, it could be worse.
Many of my friends have either gone to another college, work or straight to the Dole Office. I couldn’t be bothered to replicate that existence; I’m not being sanctimonious, it’s just I think there has to be more out there than a simple 9-5 job.
This is why I came to Regis College. So I can go to university. And follow the timetable of getting a job, meeting a woman (getting her pregnant) and then without ‘provocation', getting married. Then getting a house. A dog. Then raising a child whose going to resent me because I’m nothing like Billy Whoever’s father down the road.
Fuck, it beats being poor.
I finished my last cigarette and walked through the gates. The same feelings of dread tightened in my stomach. Damn, I need another cigarette. College was full today; numerous students were stood around. They wore their designer clothes; laughed at their pretentious jokes. And to top it all off, gave… read more
The golden clockwork of time and space came to a screeching halt. It was me vs. nature, man vs. wild, the way it was meant to be. In the years before, I was my collection of DVDs, my television with five hundred channels, the company’s name on the t-shirt I was wearing. But that week I was a nomad-- a wanderer of the land, and that night I would return to my abode a king, a god. All I had to do now was pull the trigger.
No, wait. Back up. Let me start earlier. It was my thirteenth birthday, instead of receiving gifts and having a party, I was on a plane headed for Colorado to visit my grandfather, Dave. You see, my family has this tradition; every time a boy in the family turns thirteen, he must venture out with his grandfather and kill one mountain lion before he can be considered a man. With an odd smelling man sitting next to me and a screaming child two rows in front of me, I didn’t regret not being hungry when I tried to eat the poached fish with curry and dal.
We landed in Colorado and… read more
Strange Language
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Sweet flames on our matchsticks are the tops of our tombs.
We emit the flaws of our constructors, each other.
Aquiesce first to your partners,
Rightly, they will breathe the harmful sulfur.
Observe a long break.
Tally the bricks of the greatest ego. Knobs turn on the sandstone slopes,
And they hurry down.
2,300,468
False is true, but only in this number. A two track mind could make
the journey home.
I will give you a common gift. The most common, in fact.
I can only give it to you here.
Then walk the line, lit by twinkling stars, until I see three brothers.
Two will be holding hands. I will take them with me.
I will go back to where I started, though I always was, and always will be.
I am, and you're similar.
Invest your wealth in signs and serpents, fruit and deceit.
Sit on me, and be driven into wild green.
I travel by crystal riders making trips to preach.
Of
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The clock strikes one, it should strike thirteen in my mind. Never mind the CCTV cameras and ‘nanny state’ that England seems to be suffering from, 1984 is in people’s minds, not on the streets. Have you ever walked down the street and just looked at someone and considered if that person is normal. Chances are that you haven’t, or if you have, then most likely you aren’t normal yourself and your looking for clues of other ‘abnormal’ people. I would fall into the latter category. Call me deep minded, call me a weirdo, call me whatever you want, but the wonderment of the normality of others has always fascinated me, and I can’t help but walk past a man in a smart suit and wonder if that clean and crease-free outfit really reflects his life, and his mental state. Compare this to the teenage boy that swears and enjoys playing truant, chances are you would think one was the symbol of normality, with a perfect mind and no issues affecting him, and the other a deviant little bastard who needs counselling to control his ‘anger’ issues. I however tend to wonder if it’s the other way round. If you… read more
A wooden rainbow is touched and played with a degree of grace while nervous fingers dart between the keys. The satisfying tones of completed chords bounce from the glassy picture-frames before feeling themselves become dented and muted from the chalky-green chipped walls encasing them. An elderly man, Markus, sits alongside his student. His eyes focus three-keys away from her hands, unconsciously blinking to reflect its occasional discordance. She slows the piece, impishly shy of its working knowledge, before broadcasting a moment bookended by her indecision of the final key. Markus lifts her hand, guiding it towards the last note, and her eyes lift toward him.
Cordi picks up a small bottle of bleach, procured from his under his faded bed frame. His hands are brilliant contrasts of red and blue, alternating colours as his knuckles shift their panicked attention to grip the bottle with comfort. Above his eyebrows, he senses a beating pulse of rushing pain; he grunts and shifts his weight to deter it, while his eyes shut (and, for a moment, find rest). His eyes open again, signifying a conscious confirmation, and he gathers his belongings. He briefly scans his window for any sign of his opponent outside,… read more
I’m hiding, hiding away from the world,
Wrapped in a cocoon of solidarity, one of my own making.
I live in fear of being judged, so I edit myself, only show glimpses,
To suit the image that each person wants of me.
I haven’t been true to myself in years,
I don’t trust myself to be, a whole, to be open.
I just hope that I can trust myself and step out into the world, so I don’t live my life trapped in the shadow realms of insecurity, forever. read more
I have found that I am always hungry. I do not mean this in the sense that my belly is empty, though that is an emptiness I may choose. I mean that my heart seems always in need of being, and is never, filled. It has a hunger for gentle words, for caring, being cared for. It needs to feel and take from this world, to then create and chose ways to return what was taken. It is not mine alone for I have given it away, parceled it out amongst the people and things I hold dear, and will continue to do so for as long as I live. My heart is not my own, and I believe it has never been so. It aches when it is apart from me, it aches when I try to keep it too near. It is in a constant state of unrest, it will not be content, its balance is never kept long from being upset. It speaks vaguely of what it must do, what it must have, and my head is left to interpret what it hears but cannot feel. For it is my head that becomes all too cold and… read more
I spent the day walking with you, again. I don't know if you were really there. I kinda hope you were, and kinda hope you weren't. I don't know. Seems like a private moment should be private, but I figure you deserve to be embodied at least a little within what I do. I told myself I could feel you walking with me. I looked back a couple times, to see if your footprints were appearing inside my footprints. Follow me through the snow.
I suppose your physical absence was conspicuous, in a way. I must have looked to anyone else like just another crazy who thinks he's being followed, little they know that I wish I was. Or maybe they all do that? Every backwards glance and sidestep the loss of something unspoken. That's almost a nicer way of looking at it.
I decided to let you control me for a bit. I know, it was ridiculous. I should have just had the day to myself, saying this is kind of embarrasing. But I knew you were there, I felt you move me. For just a moment, I was in a backseat of my mind, you took a second… read more
i was just a kid when i saw my mother cry. i was just a kid when i saw my father fight. i was just a kid when i saw my brother cry. i was just a kid when i began to cry. nobody knew but sceretly i prayed for a new family a new life in mind! they were answered only with the scorn of my un logical family spliting apart.i was only a kid when i saw my father leave.i was only a kid when i saw my mother harden into a shell. i was only a kid when i began to bleed. i was only a kid until the next day. i was only a teen when i lived away. i was only a teen when my face broke out. i was only a teen when mymom was taken away. i was only a teen when i began to bleed. i was happy when i met him. i was only a teen when i fell in love. i was only a teen until the next day! the next day my mom was brought back. i told her over the stories i had. i was only an adult… read more
At eternity's gate. I can hear the rush of the wind through the empty lands. It's quite disheartening to realize you have gone. Just play that song. The one where you finally express your goodbye. I will not sleep until you do.
You left so many of us behind. That picture of you smiling. It's hanging on my wall. I wake up and I see your face. It's funny. You had such an impact on our lives. Without ever meeting us. Please. Just play that one song. Before the night withers away. You are eternal now. That song shall play forever. Your words will stay with us forever. No one will take that away. I still have my journey to take. It will be lonely without you. I've never had an idol that has never let me down. You are worth more to me than sepia memories. For all that you went through. You were still the person you had always been.
Be sure to wave goodbye. One last time. The last few bars of the song fade into the night. It was good to hear your voice again. I'm not a fan of long goodbyes. So leave me here.… read more
Enter The Bride, dressed in her wedding gown, stunning and glowing with excitement. She stands alone for a few moments in the spotlight, and is then followed on stage by her mother, three bridesmaids and flower girl, who proceed to fuss around her in their own ways.
Mother: Darling you look stunning, I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride. Now sit down and let me look at you...
Bridesmaid 1: Just a touch more hairspray, we don’t want any flyaways as you’re walking up the aisle -
Bridesmaid 2: Exactly it’s your big day, everything has to be perfect!
Flower Girl: Nanny? (continues to repeat chanting this and generally making noise as the adults fuss, waving her teddy bear around importantly)
Bridesmaid 1: How are your nails holding up, do you need another coat?
Mother: Weddings always take me back...
Bridesmaid 3: The guys are on the way, I just got a text.
Bridesmaid 2: Oh don’t stress we’ve got plenty of time...
Mother: Love’s a funny thing isn’t it?
Bridesmaid 1: Which are we going for, peach blossom or ice sheen?
Mother: Did I ever tell you the story of –
Bride and Bridesmaids: Probably.
Bridesmaid 2: We’ve heard… read more
The dark clouds were rolling in and the sky was already gray. A storm was coming and soon after it hit the sea’s debris would wash onto the shore, as it has always done before. The old widow in the long black gown walked slowly down to the shore. She slid off her sandals and dug her toes into the sand while the cold sea reached the top of her ankles briefly, before the tide rescinded back into the giant body of water destined only to return again. Without an expression upon her face she stared out into the oceans endless horizon. As the rain began to gently fall the beach was vacant and there were no ships at sea, only the seagulls and the widow seemed prepared to brave the coming storm. The wind blew mildly against her from off the sea and gently pressed her black gown against her slender frail body and set a drift her gray hair in the wind. Piercing through to the core of her essence, the wind gave the widow a brief sense of content as if she was on the brink of an epiphany, before it to retracted with… read more
