Looking back...

Another year older. Another year passed.
The world continues its forward sweeping motion as 2005 draws to a close.
In the past 365 days we as a people have experienced devastating loss not only in the natural disasters of Hurricane Katrina and the aftermath of the Indian Ocean tsunami but with the continued terrorism and loss of lives in the Middle East. These tragedies were marked by the contrast of bright glimmers in hope, with the possibility of a better tomorrow for all.

This year my universe was shifted by changes both small and large...

There was the ending of my career in the service industry...



and the beginning of a new career as a "real world" businessman...



I began my life as a blogger...



and was lucky enough to get my first (tiny) job in the motion picture business...



I will never forget that this was the year ending my almost 10 year build-up to the photo opportunity I'd dreamed of with my childhood idol...



And along the way I was lucky enough to see...

New York



Philadelphia



Los Angeles



The Bahamas



Arkansas



Fire Island



and Florida



But without a doubt, the most important event in my tiny life during this last year was you, Matt...



It is because of your love that I am able to not only look back with pride,
but am able to look forward with the hope of an even more promising 2006.



So with that I wish a ...

Happy New Years to ALL!

May 2006 bring you peace, health, happiness, truth and above all

LOVE.

deux

the closeness
of our bodies
creates a new breath

you in
me out

you in
me out

the sensation of time passing
gone

and your face,
exactly as it should be

but most miraculously of all

is

that the old feeling of

"alone again, naturally"

feels now
much more
like

"i'm home again,
naturally"

two flights to home

aeroplane
high
heads rising and falling
clouds above
then
clouds around
and finally
clouds below
as we
the people
of flights 362
and
4348
respectively
are brought safely
and soundly

home

curiouser and curiouser...

Not to take time away from the fleeting emotions of a self-indulgent post-adolescent, but lately this weather has been both wonderful and worrying.
I don't know what it's like in your neck of the woods, but should we perhaps be concerned that it is now nearly the first of January and yesterday in my hometown of Fayetteville, Arkansas it was 72 degrees fahrenheit come dusk?
People were wearing shorts. I had a t-shirt on. It felt like September.
This is awesome.
And awesomely fucked up.

The Sun Also Sets

This photo shows yesterday's sunset.
Today's however, which unfortunately I didn't have a camera during, was even more radiant. Today's sunset was perhaps one of the most beautiful sights I've seen in some time.
The sun hung low and full and the soft gold glow that burned around it pierced through a sky of coral and mauve. Beauty almost burned the irises of my eyes as I stood, mouth agape, staring into the face of nature and magic and beauty and God.
The sunset was unspeakably moving. I was so mystified by its brilliance that, as I walked to my car in the parking lot of a downtown shopping center, it took a good while before I realized it blazed directly over the facilities of a large, cold, neighborhood Wal Mart SuperCenter.
Perhaps I'll always be a person who looks for meaning in places where it doesn't actually exist, and perhaps that makes me sad, but I was struck in that moment by how perfectly this sight illustrated my relationship with the town that I grew up in. The sunset was so vibrant, a sight I would have missed had I been anywhere else, and I was able to appreciate this fact. But at the same time I knew that the beauty I was witnessing in the sky didn't belong in these surroundings. This sight should not exist above a Wal Mart. Yet the Wal Mart wasn't going anywhere. Its place in this town seemed as permanent as hatred. The sun had no choice but to blaze above it, out of place and fading.
Now, I'm certainly not saying that I in any way represent this sun. Neither am I saying that this Wal Mart SuperCenter in any way represents the many diverse and phenomenally interesting lives that fill my hometown of Fayetteville, Arkansas. To say anything of that nature would be all at once ridiculous and wholly incorrect.
All I'm saying is that the sun was there, as was the Wal Mart and as was I. And just as the sun moved from one place high in the sky to another farther and farther away, in that moment the awareness made itself clear that the time had come for me to move on as well.
I returned to the town where I was born, the place that illustrates every definition of the word "home." I've refreshed every fiber of my being. And sadly I just don't fit.
It's awful to think that a person can be surrounded by the people who mean more to him than anyone on Earth: friends, family and near strangers who are more supportive than humanly imaginable, and still he can know that this is not his life.
I came into the world destined to move onto something else. A land far, far away that holds the potential for great success and even greater failure. A land where I am essentially alone but where I can live and survive, carving a small place for myself. All the while knowing, deep inside the heart that beats beneath my chest, that I am where I need to be.

"The Family Stone"

see this movie


with whatever family you surround yourself with.

Bright Christmas

God is everywhere

everywhere.

i swear.

and if he isn't to you,
or if she isn't to you,

then LIGHT is everywhere.

just look,
a little bit harder.

and then

perhaps in the distance
(or right in front of you)
where you never thought it could be...

LIGHT

LOVE

LIFE

everything that matters,
everything that you will ever need.


God IS everywhere.

if there's anything I'll ever promise,

it's this.

light

Some traditions should stay:
Xmas eve with Rose
my old drama teacher
(Mr. Rosenaur to you)
crab cakes
Ellie, life, continuing forward
"Move On"
family, English poppers
too us
to belong to anybody else
magic
before magic begins

Some traditions can change:
the midnight mass
tonight, right now
almost out the door in fact
Something I can't remember ever doing
daylight moves to night
and life continues forward
some things will never change
until they do

and then life moves on again

slow ride back

A Half Full Moon
shines down upon us
as we make our way home

the light is
Half Full
for once

which seems enough
for the one tired driver
and the one tired passenger

because

Half Full
is not empty

Half Full
in fact
is not empty at all

peace on earth

home life,

the ahhhh and aghhh
of it

christmas party last night
christmas party tonight
christmas party tomorrow night

it's hard to talk about yourself
over and
over again

seems much easier
to just write about yourself
over and
over again

"how's New York?"
i hear from nearly everyone
and without fail
as soon as the words form in their mouths
the sense of "failure" arrives
within me

i know i'm not where i need to be
professionally
and there is no knowledge of when i might get there
which is normal
for what i've chosen to do
however
i can't help but wonder,
when will the life i'm leading
feel like its enough
to the rest of the world

and more importantly,

when will the life i'm leading
feel like its enough
to me?

"It's Christmastime in the City..."

love it.


love it.


love it.


I think it might be time to get the hell out of here.

Peace out New York!
Arkansas, I'm comin' home!

Memoirs of a Hate-ah

The Holiday Movie Season is upon us and while I could easily take time out to write my own personal reviews for the big screen releases like "Rent," "King Kong," and "Memoirs of a Geisha" I feel much more inclined to use this venue as a means to come to terms with my own increasingly frayed nerves at the movie-going process as a whole.
It always amazes me that in the cities I've lived in over my life (places as varied as Fayetteville, Arkansas and Paris, France) that to attend a movie in your nearby theatre, be it a matinee, late night showing or "first night" affair, the experience is usually without variation a casual one. There is seating room to spare, people seem genuinely interested in seeing the film they've just paid for and perhaps the most distracting event of the evening will involve a fellow patron passing in front of you on his or her way to the restroom.
Why is it then that in a city as exciting and throbbing with possibility as New York, does every single movie seem to be sold out at every single time of day? It's as if we've thought of absolutely nothing else to do. And why is it that no matter how relaxed we may feel going in, there's always, always, ALWAYS something that fucks the whole night up. Now I'm not going to complain about the $10.75 ticket price (though I certainly could) or the fact that if you use online ticket services you can easily find yourself paying more. Neither am I going to complain about the fact that we now have to be subjected to television commercials before the lights go down (as if this was some sort of free service we are fortunate enough to come in off the streets and enjoy) (though, again, I certainly could).
What I am going to complain about is all you fucking assholes out there who are ruining the movies for the rest of us.
Now, I'm no cinema purist. I don't need complete silence or my bucket of popcorn and 43 liter coke to enjoy this season's potential Oscar fare. And I certainly don't mind any of the rest of you who do. I've gotten plenty used to the chomping and slurping by now. But like an alien race or some new breed of cockroach, the urban movie-goer has evolved, and he knows all kinds of new ways to piss the rest of us off.
Tonight it took my friend and I two movie theatres and over 42 blocks to see a poorly reviewed film about Japenese artisans that has been playing in our fair city for over a week now. Not one to get unreasonably angry, I took a deep breath, an expensive cab ride and told myself that next time we'd plan in advance: practicaly an Absolute Rule in Manhattan.
For example, last week some other friends and I arrived over an hour early to see a much anticipated movie about a gorilla. We should be thankful that we did because when we arrived, a line of people waiting to take their seats had already formed. It snaked out of the closed theatre doors and down a long hallway strewn with trash.
I don't want to lose any of you before I get to why I'm particularly angry tonight. So I will let you know what occured on this evening. Once at the theatre and once the commercials had ended, the movie finally began. No sooner had the first shot appeared than a group of three rag-tag, loud mouthed, post-teens arrived and decided that what with their tardiness and the unexplainable crowding in this 9 pm Monday night showing, that they would just plop down in the aisleway beside us and proceed to talk throughout the movie.
Well, as a person who is usually rather uncomfortable with unexpected social interactions, I must say that (like the title character who lost her sexual virginity on screen tonight) I myself lost my movie theatre "shush"-ing virginity as well.
A good thirty minutes into "Geisha" and once the three assholes had finished their chili-dogs I knew I'd had enough.
As something that I'd always secretly wanted to do but never thought I could, it was before I even knew I'd started that I heard myself begin.
"YOU'RE ALREADY SITTING IN THE AISLES! COULD YOU MAYBE NOT TALK THE WHOLE MOVIE ON TOP OF IT!" I whisper-shouted over to them.
"Uh, you cwoul' jus' cwalm ya'self down!" one of the two girls grunted back.
"Yeah, mine cha' own bid-nesse!' her hook-nosed gal pal chimed in.
Well, that was it.
"LOOK!" I shouted, nearly at full voice now.
Ooooh! I was pissed!
"YOU'RE IN A MOVIE THEATRE! SO SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Well, the one guy of the group must have taken this as a sign to not press the issue further.
"Alright, sorry. Okay..." he mumbled.
And with a semi-loud,
"THANK YOU!"
I was done with them.
Surprisingly, no one else around me seemed terribly impressed with what I'd done. Nor did they seem at all thankful. I hadn't been nearly loud enough to disrupt any of the patrons who weren't already being disrupted and I halfway expected at least a few of them to rally behind me. But, even to expect something from them would have been to expect too much. Aside from our lovely aisle-mates perpetual banter and chili-dog breath, other enjoyable behavior witnessed this evening included further loud talking, further loud eating, constant guttural nasal grunting, text-messaging, a Kelly Clarkson ring tone that went off during the film's final scene, a crowd of people standing to leave during the movie's last shots, and my all time favorite new movie-goer's distraction: the bored boyfriend who can be seen from aisles and aisles away as he plays video games on his brighter than sunshine, light up Sidekick.
Seriously, New Yorkers, Stay Home. In fact, STAY THE FUCK HOME. Because I popped my loud, angry and irate movie-goer cherry tonight the same way you all seem to have popped your tactless, irritating and inconsiderate cherries years ago. And I don't see too many movies in this city, but from now on, every single one I do see will involve one angry bitch, his abnormally raised voice and the serious possibility of face scratching.

anniversary

six months is a lot of days
even more hours
the minutes, who knows the number
and as far as seconds
too many to count

each one has been better because of you
correction
each one has been liveable
well, beyond liveable
unreal
real
and unreal again
because of you

in your presence and your absence
you've changed my life
which is no longer just mine

i love you
matt

NIKE "my"D

People gaze into the windows and briskly I walk past them, through the glass front doors. "Do you have an appointment?" the huge, intimidating, hip-hopped out black man says to me upon my arrival. He is sitting on a couch in front of a laptop amongst numerous other employees, every article of clothing he wears is bigger than the sheets on my bed and he is way too cool for me, way too casual. I feel far too gay to be at this establishment. But none of them can tell this. Unshaven, wearing my favorite Black Yankees baseball cap, a bit hip-hopped out myself, they very well might know I'm gay. But they sure don't know I'm nervous.
An early Christmas gift came in the form of an appointment at the NIKE iD store on Elizabeth Street tonight. I was struck by the exclusivity factor upon my arrival. "Appointments only, guys" was muttered to more than one of the brave inquisitors who stepped inside. And the apparent difficulty in getting an hour long time slot for designing your own, one of a kind shoes seems practically legendary. (It's currently anywhere from up to a year's waiting list, names are drawn at random, and I seem to have gotten my appointment due mainly to the fact that I live in the neighborhood, was given a special pass code, and there was an unexpected cancellation earlier in the week) Without a doubt the "Fabulous Life" endorsed NIKE iD experience is one for the memory books.
From the bottle of Voss handed to me once I'd begun the design process to the personalized/one-on-one/all access/hour long service. And from the gift bag I left with to the ultimate end result- my two sets of all original, nobody else can have the same pair shoes that will be arriving in 3-4 weeks, it's just like the tagline says,
"Uniqueness is the Ultimate Luxury"

the "morning" after

brain moving too fast
body moving too slow
i'm an old man at 23.
how do people live this life?
on occasion, I can understand
but night after night after night
after night?
6:30 am to 5:00 pm
is not a sleep schedule
for me.
don't feel sick at all, but
i'm exhausted
in every way possible
and i've accomplished nothing
today
except not dying.

Green with Excitement

There was a reason I didn't want to get up for work today.
My current day job backstory is simple. I essentially work part-time at the office of my friend Ashley's dad's company. The idea being that she and I can make our own hours, keep each other company while at work and use the rest of our energies to do things like mail out headshots and search for auditions. I was, needless to say, a bit physically and emotionally exhausted after having seen the phenomenally moving (yet over 3 hour long) film "King Kong" last night. As a result, this morning I felt more like lying in bed, playing with my dog Bradshaw and reading a chapter of "Memoirs of a Geisha" than rushing into work amidst a possible Subway strike.
At just past noon I arrived in the lobby of the midtown Manhattan office building where I am employed and nodded casually to the security guard, just as I do every morning. It was only a moment or two later, as I passed into the four elevator waiting dock, that a most unexpected wave of excitement crashed over me and I began to feel with a strong sense of certainty that it would be some time before I was able to fully catch my breath again.
You see, as a person who comes to work every day at the Harper Collins Publishing building, I might be used to seeing my fair share of suits and secretaries. But it is certainly not every day that little old me is fortunate enough to not only witness, but rise skywards with a real, live witch.
I should clarify.
The real-life manifestation of the Wicked Witch of the West, as well as a hip East Village bohemian and an actress who I admire more than most any other on Broadway. Yes, today I had a date with destiny. The location was an elevator in the middle of New York City and my companion was none other than Elphaba herself (Maureen to the many fans of "Rent") also known as Tony Award winner Idina Menzel.
It was while waiting that short time for one of the elevators to arrive that, headphones still plugged in, I noticed a tiny, heavily bundled woman walk towards me. Instantly, my odd sixth sense told me exactly who this person was. It seems that in my time as a New Yorker I've developed a certain ability to spot any celebrity, no matter how obscure, just from the glimpse of a profile, the back of their head or the far off sound of their voice. Sometimes I'll just get a feeling from behind me and know immediately, through all forms of cover-up/ incognito/ hats/ hoods and the like just who that famous person is.
And Idina definitely had her share of tricks. While not a legitimate movie star in the vein of a Julia Roberts, Reese Witherspoon or even a, lets say, Rosario Dawson, she certainly carried herself like one. Head down at all times, enormous sunglasses in place and more fur and Ugg boots than J.Lo's worn in a lifetime, she looked not at all unlike Elizabeth Taylor sneaking in for a face lift.
We entered the elevator together alongside another gentleman dressed perhaps as a custodian and I giggled casually as I reached over her hand to press my floor's button at the same time as she reached up to press the button of hers. It was only once we were inside that I decided I would say something to her, as I'd had the chance to do only once before.
About a year and a half ago, in the middle of "Wicked's" Broadway reign, she and her husband Taye Diggs had stood before me for a good while at the host stand of the restaurant Vento, where I was working at the time. They were with friends, had come in for a late dinner after her performance and seemed casual and friendly. Taye was doting on her, she seemed tired but likeable and we had engaged in a short but witty dialogue. Idina had joked to me that she was taking more than one set of Vento Trattoria matches, as if this type of thing would be considered very impolite, and I had jokingly scolded her for ever dreaming of doing such a thing. It was all very pleasant, very relaxed, very New York. I'd wished them a good evening, they were on their way and that was the end of it. But as a fan of hers, particularly due to my great love for the character of Elphaba, the green witch she'd played in "Wicked," I'd always regretted not letting her know how much I cared.
So, today, as we climbed higher and higher together, much like Elphaba had done on stage in "Wicked's" pivotal Act One finale, I knew that my moment had come. I wouldn't fawn over her or jump up and down. But if she didn't necessarily need to know that she had affected me very deeply from high atop that stage, then I certainly knew that I needed to tell her for me.
The elevator doors opened. I had reached my exit point, taken my mark and was ready to deliver my line.
Heart pounding, never one to feel comfortable saying anything to celebrities unless we've been properly introduced, I gently touched the side of her arm, swept past her and turning, said, "You're amazing, by the way."
Taken off guard I'm sure, she nodded, giggling and said "Oh thank you. Thank you."
And as the elevator doors closed between us, barely even aware that I was looking her straight in the eyes, I simply nodded back and said,
"Amazing."

Vintage

This old journal entry has been on my mind a lot recently, for one reason or another, so here it is today...

July 25, 2004

Back to the city. The routine. The life.
I found myself atop my roof, sitting, dog scurrying about my feet, at that time of day much smarter men have referred to as "the violet hour," when the sun has set but light is everywhere and the city just glows. It is violet, but also faded peach and silver because of all the reflective surfaces. It's absolutely beautiful.
Peaceful, dormant, interior but living.
And amidst all the things -wondrous sights really- that a pair of eyes could land upon, I found that mine stopped (puzzled) to gaze northward and squint at a most peculiar sight.
Flashes, too erratic and inconsistent to be operational, coming from atop the Empire State Building. Flashes, at one corner and then the other. Wait! Four at a time in the center! Two more simultaneously on the right... Again, a solo burst on the western edge!
Security device? I found my mind racing. Too low to warn off airplanes or the like. But in a row... A solid line of alternating bursts.
It can't be. Is it? Visible from more than 34 blocks away
-camera flashes!- photos being taken from atop the observation deck of Manhattan's signature landmark! Silly to think of. Impossible.
The memory of my first ascent so ancient and faded that my own photographic proof barely brings it back. But cameras going off nonetheless, in THIS moment, at THIS time- memories being made, film being put to use.
The Empire State Building, a city bows at its feet in all directions- rooftops rising and falling for miles.
From its balconies, people experience the wonder of this city and of this time on Earth, presumably with the ones they love- and higher than they'd ever dreamed possible.
And if you look very closely into the distance, there's me -far off- a speck on a rooftop in the scrapbook of a memory.

workplace bliss

Today at the office:

Ashley: "I love stretching!"



Chris: "ME TOO!"


"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!"


P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUSAN!
I love you Girleeeeeeeee!!!

(It's About Time)s Square

I thought I was supposed to be the drama kid, the Broadway Baby, the theatre queen? I thought I was supposed to be up to the minute on all the new scores, all the new shows and all the new show-stoppers? I thought I was the person who goes to the theatre come rain or come shine, for richer or poorer, for better or worse? So why is it that the last show I've seen was a flop called "In My Life" that's already closed two days ago?
I know my theatrical obsessions have slowed a bit in the last year or so as I attempt to focus on an actual career of my own. But this is just getting to be ridiculous! "The Color Purple" "The Woman in White" "The Odd Couple" "The Dancer's Life" Lots of other premieres with the word "The" in the title...
Somebody invite me to a goddamned play for the love of God fo' I go apeshit and pull a King Kong! Cause Ima' go crazy and Nathan Lane is comin' up the Empire State Building with me!

Synergetic

In life, a person can, on occasion, have the thrilling sensation of stepping into a place where previously he or she had only passed by. At times the experience can be revelatory. One might shout, "I had no idea the city could look this beautiful from way up here!" upon first seeing Manhattan from the Empire State Building. At other times the feeling can be remarkable in an entirely different fashion. For example, being blown away by the food and bustling atmosphere of the Malaysian restaurant near Chinatown that you said you would never, ever, under any circumstance step foot inside.
Tonight, after an early dinner with my friend Sarah, we made the short but brisk trek back from Sullivan and Prince Streets to our shared apartment building on Spring and Elizabeth. On the way home we stopped first for a few snacks at the neighborhood grocery store and then, to my surprise, took an unexpected detour and headed deep down into the heart of the Mulberry Street Synergy Fitness Club.
This was an establishment that I myself had a tumultuous relationship with, spanning nearly four years. I'd lived in the area long enough to be around for its conception, the morning sickness that ensued and ultimately its birth. I'd scurried past the varied assortment of employees who had camped on my sidewalks with flyers and promotional materials during the hot summer months. And ultimately had come to appreciate and resent the fitness club when its intoxicating powers and promise of a better life had lured in my roommate of that time.
The Synergy gym was a place that I knew of and recognized, even wondered about on occasion (what with its large metal doors and discrete underground facilities) but was never a place that I entered. It was simply another world, the tunnel to a universe where I did not belong. As if it was the flip side of a looking glass that could show someone else's reflection, but never mine.
So, it was with a strong sense of anticipation and a sharp hint of nervousness that I descended the stairs of this very place on this very evening. Synergy Gym had posted a promotion that was running at a remarkably low rate. And combined with the immediate proximity to our building and the fact that we'd been talking about joining a gym for months, it made perfect sense that Sarah and I would venture inside sooner or later. This just happened to be our night. Once below, I was blown away not by the size (it's a tiny and aesthetically underwhelming gym compared to what I've seen thus far) nor by its grandeur (remarkably the only women exercising were older and heavy-set and they stood out against the bevy of attractive young men, who for all their muscles could not muster the aura of, "We're Exclusive! Don't You Wanna' Be Just Like Us??!!") Really I was just taken aback by the fact that I was in a place that I'd never thought I'd end up, as well as a place that had taken me so long to get to. It was like walking into the hallways of what will become your High School on that first, traumatizing day or what I imagine it must be like to take your first steps down the aisle.
It was just a gym. One that I wasn't, and still am not even sure I want to join. But it had been there all along, directly below me. It had annoyed me on days when I just wanted a sidewalk to myself. It had taken people I cared about away from me and had spit them back out sweating and refreshed. And now I was here, underground, being given a tour by a friendly if not at all in-shape employee named Tommy.
It's hard to justify spending any more money on myself than necessary during the holiday season and who knows whether or not I'll join. "It's your HEALTH!" my friend shouted to me as we discussed the pros and cons a short while later back at her place. "It's my VANITY is more like it!" I replied back. I really don't know what we, she or I will decide. But I do know that we are scheduled to come back for a trial visit tomorrow evening at seven o'clock and I also have to admit that I'm a little bit excited. Excited at the thought of re-entering this world that at last, much against my will, I could be a part of. And sad that I'll never again have that rush of taking my first step inside.

whore dream

daylight into nighttime napping
the house i grew up in
the backyard
i awake from an in-and-out slumber
screaming enters my ears
not human
i twist the blinds
open
my father, little brother and two older pat morita types
climb down from a window
that in reality doesn't open
they carry with them a large heron
identical to the ones that live in our real-life backyard pond
maybe i hadn't seen the other one there before
because the heron becomes two herons
and then three
and then four
two adults
two babies
the asian men who are and aren't pat morita
follow my father
who is and isn't really him
why is my half-dad grasping the flailing heron by its legs
why is any of this happening
i
in life
and in dream
am only half awake
my father takes the shovel
that hadn't been there before
and begins to hit the heron upon the head
screaming
through glass
and consciousness
no sound escapes my mouth
he hits the heron again
i actually see it blink
and again
now the bird screams have stopped
it shakes its once regal head
confused but alive
and he hits the heron again
but now
for no reason
the bird takes one of its babies
i don't see how
distracted by voices
this story is being explained to me
by no one at all
the why of this scene is that
the birds have begun to terrorize our cats
taking them in their mouths and torturing them
they also torture the infants
the babies
siblings that i don't actually have
these siblings are dressed in victorian lace
i see them
but they are in no way mine
the birds have to be done away with
not the birds
the herons
and then something that could never happen
does
the mama heron takes the baby heron deep into the pond
i am now outside
on the other end
someone seems to be next to me
i feel the presence
but they are more spirit than human
so essentially
i am alone
the heron takes her baby to my side of the pond
the all alone side
and she dunks her
knowing what as mother she must do
coming back up the baby doesn't cough
she only opens her beak to release the water
and to open her lungs back up to oxygen
before she is dunked back under again
and again
and again
i scream
alone
on the side of the pond that turned out to be even more terrifying than the other
it is all too awful
and i begin to cry
this time out loud
in dreamland
and the cry screams continue
for just a moment or two longer
before i wake up

Christmas and Chaos

Between 44 degrees Fahrenheit and 29 degrees Fahrenheit.
Between 62nd Street on the West Side and approximately negative 15th Street on the East Side.
Between around 370 and 380 dollars.
A day in the life of a big city Christmas shopper!

The Holiday season is in full force:
The tourists are forming a line around the block outside of FAO Schwartz.
The word "SALE!" can be spotted more often than the word "HOLIDAY!"
And beware, a pack of unisex Santas (who let's hope have been drinking) are terrorizing passerbys all up and down Spring Street while shouting kind seasonal phrases such as, "You've had a Crap Year! Merry Friggin' Christmas!"

Oh the Holidays...
May we all make it home in one piece.
May we all make it home with the treasures we've just acquired.
(Not running back to your fifth sample sale to retrieve the cell phone you left in the dressing room, like yours truly.)
Hell, may we all make it home at all.

And, save me a big ol' glass of Egg Nog.
It's been a long day.
Merry Friggin' Christmas!

Present and Past

sleepy-eyed and groggy
aware that awake-time has come
but not quite able to maintain eye-openness
roll over
and roll over
and burrow
and nest

"Good Morning! Good Morning! Good morning!"
my father sings
"Nooooooo!" my little brother and I wail
anything but morning, anything but school
"Time to get up and at em'!" he goes on
already dressed in suit and tie
somehow, miraculously
"just five more minutes.." we mumble
hair matted and pajamas warm
dreamland fighting against reality
never, sadly, winning

snow

out of nowhere
destined, known, forecasted I am sure
but unknown to me
big, fat, savory flakes
illustrating nothing
not hope
nor life
nor sadness
nor beauty

just nature
doing its job
shedding what must be shed
so that spring may come again

post collegiate piece-of-mess

this world seems too wide
the ones too few,
may i spend awhile
alone with you

you take one turn
and the next turn is lost
this path moves forward
at any cost

a blank face staring
no eyes or ears
from which to see us
exposed, our fears

a rush of ice
and fire and cold
all relevance taken
we've grown too old

this life is tiny
but could be huge
and again only one path
destined to choose

the breath of life
is somewhere else
not here
in this place,

its only hell

am i?

am i allowed to want a family?
am i allowed to need more than people are willing to give?
am i allowed to be afraid for no reason?
am i allowed to think that this will never be enough?
am i allowed to waste a portion of my life if i promise to really use the rest?
am i allowed to keep writing?
am i allowed to obsess?
am i allowed to hate a part of who i am?
am i allowed to know that someday it will all be o.k.?
am i allowed to tell myself that it will?
am i allowed to do nothing?
am i allowed to love my family unconditionally?
am i allowed to think i'm lucky?
am i allowed to think i'm not?
am i allowed to say that this is bullshit even if i think it isn't?
am i allowed to not give a fuck what any of you think?
am i allowed to be given the chance to do something with this life?
am i allowed to grab that opportunity away from someone else if necessary?
am i allowed to be grateful?
am i allowed to question?
am i allowed to believe in a god?
am i allowed to continue typing really, really fast?
am i allowed to edit?
am i allowed to not let myself?
am i allowed to read
and think
and be
something more
than i feel i should be allowed?
am i?

are you?

the fight, back

blogger froze for over 4 hours last night
all of blogger.com
for as far as I can tell
everyone's
but
i'm afraid
that i am the cause.
i wrote a semi-pseudo-quasi cleverly edited
little entry
at around 8:05 pm
about two people who I was tired of seeing
on magazine covers.
the entry
not so much cruel
as just ranting,
a pointless
waste of thought
energy
time
and space.
i could have written so much more
so much better
i could have challenged myself
to re-find my voice
never give up
re-ignite the part of me
that can do more than just
destroy what i have nothing to do with
so
my negativity
i fear
caused blogger to shut down
and for that
people of the cozmos
i am sorry.

napping
I dream in reality television
edit
my dream-fights
go quickly
commercial breaks
come often
in the form of jolts back into
consciousness
T.V. is bad
so deliciously good
but
such a waste of time.
after vegging out
for about three hours or so
in front of the boob tube
last night
I finally turned it off
at around 10 pm
only to remember that a friend had reminded me that
Sarah Jessica Parker was a guest on Leno
so
instead of saying
"eh"
enough's enough
i guess
for tonight,
I
at 10:01
sat my ass right back down
and checked out
of anything that matters
for the next two hours.
luckily I was strong enough
to finally say
CLICK
when Isaac Mizrahi followed SJP
on the couch.
but
I am telling you
I almost didn't make it.

My God

Or perhaps "Aow ma gawsh!" would be more appropriate.
Now no one loves a good old fashioned tabloid more than I do, what with the fashions, the buzz on all the latest Hollywood gossip and the more-addictive-than-crack snapshots of celebrities walking the streets of New York and L.A.
but this is just too fucking much.
Yes, these two B listers whored out their marriage for a second shot at fame and for that, I'll admit, they do undoubtedly deserve all the shame and derision we as citizens can heap upon them.
But don't WE deserve better?
I mean Nick is a good looking guy and lord knows Jessica cleans up real well but Enough is Enough.
No more cover articles.
No more headlines.
No more press period, if we can even fathom a world without our precious former "Newlyweds" in it.


These people serve no purpose, together or apart.
They tell us nothing about our own personal lives.
They reflect no truth in regards to who we are as couples.
And they are fucking boring.
The saddest part is that I am sure that they were very nice people before all of this circus began a few years back and perhaps someday in the very distant future these two will (either separately or as a pair) manage to bring some small element of goodness, light or charity into the world.
But for now they need to just go away
far, far away
and save some room in the trunk for Ashlee.