a far piece.

and a long time coming.

you hear limbs snapping in the darkness of the yard and do not know: branches down after last night's high wind, falling at last to the grass? or cows, moving unseen, beyond the window.

there is all the time and none of the time, and it has been two years, but they now seem a dream, and there you are, gone and far away, and i was wrong again, so wrong--though it all began in hope, as it always does.

there's nothing so strange as seeing the person that had become a stranger turn, magically, effortlessly, back into the person that was your beloved, and to feel that you were the thorn extricated from the paw of the animal you wounded, unknowingly. i can't say yet, that i hope that you're happy. i can only say that i hope to be able to someday say it.

you feel forgotten. a branch coming down, long after the rain has passed. no one there to see or catch it.

i am fine all day.

then i get home.

and i miss you.

and so.

i started a gum review blog.
i'm buying an xbox.
i have a fish tattooed on my arm.

i think i've pretty much guaranteed that i'll be single forever.

just the color of my blood.

this is the best song i've heard in a long while.


there's a space at the end of the rope that you reach with someone where all you can hear is the wind whistling down into the spaces between your fingers. i resent being asked, however tacitly, to be the heavy, to be the bad guy, to call an end to anything, or to agree, by ending these things, that you are everything that you feel yourself to be. that you are worthless. i hate finding yourself participating in someone else's pattern in a way that enables them to keep making the same mistake, over and over again.

don't behave in a way that forces someone into hating you, just so that you can turn around and say 'see? i told you. i'm hateful.'

i'm packing things.

i don't think i even really knew what being stoned meant yet, the first time i heard this song. but i also had to hide my records and tapes with swear words on them from my parents at my friend's house to listen to on the sly, so who could really blame me?

dear seth rogen.

please start eating again.

secret codes.

the laundry lists are killers.
so are the secret exams.

do you fail them?
it's okay. i fail them too. on the regular.

which is why, i suppose, you eventually decide to stop taking or administering them.

all old men have started to remind me of my grandpa. i was pumping gas on the way to work in the sunlight and an elderly man recognized a young man on a motorcycle and waved to him in the parking lot. he slowly made his way over, his outfit carefully clean and unwrinkled, the boy in a tshirt and leather jacket. but both were plainly glad to see one another. ever since i came home i've been thinking about my tattoo and for some reason, when something in my chest seized while watching this little moment play out by the shooting range sign this afternoon, i knew that i still wanted it.

i tend to be retroactively certain. some people go into experiences convinced of their rightness, expecting to be vindicated, and they are. i go into them expecting to be proven wrong about any inkling i might have about their rightness, and it takes my brain a while to catch up when the opposite happens.

that requires patience.
patience is in short supply.

do you still have that nose against the glass feeling?
i do.

these go to eleven.

the most persistent man in the universe has to be the dude on the brooklyn craigslist m4w section who is perpetually seeking his 'natural unshaven woman'. come on, hairy masses of the internet who are of the female persuasion. help a brother out. spring's coming. i could make a joke about orgasms here but god, it's just too easy.

also, i have a crush on streeter seidell.

these two things are probably not related.