so ive been at the beach this past week without a laptop and incommunicato. but i wouldnt let you down. here are all ive managed to scrounge together from the posts i handwrote myself over the last eight days. love, brooks.

saturday night - during snl
i looked... really searched for something to write on this evening. seeing as i am laptopless... (see that was almost funny)...(dork) i am writing the old fashioned way. i scrounged about and found this cool pen which im sure my grandmother uses for crossword puzzles but finding something to write on proved a bit more aggravating. started out looking for a pad i knew my father brought or just something normal to write on but soon it turned into a quest of sorts. after expending effort searching - no, questing - for something that suddenly had to be appropriate for tonight - sexy even - i found some envelopes in a drawer. not the sexiest of stationary so i decided to scribble instead on some paper plates in a cabinet a couple feet away but wait, they were small food lion plates still in the plastic. not really worth the effort. so i decided on the envelopes, one of which i am 1/3 the way down, writing short way, at the moment. i felt i had nothing better to do while waiting for the musical guest on tonight's snl rerun (which, by the way, i was disappointed to discover i had already seen) and have thus far wasted twenty-one minutes writing about the events leading up to this moment. this isnt even dramatic, no climactic moment or crescendo-ing music or transcendental death. im just sitting here writing. the cat is asleep across the room, the light behind me is on low (supposedly to make writing on an envelope sexier - it isnt really working ) and donald trump is making an ass of himself on snl. sexiness aside, the light is going up because i dont feel like fucking with my good vision tonight. but anyway, on to the point. ive spent half an envelope on shit... at least you people deserve something semi-thoughtful. its taken me 12 hours to make it halfway through the book i am reading. its about relationships and sex etc. but it got me thinking. my life is so damn boring. but thats not really the point. actually i was lying down on the beach reading and looked at my stomach which isnt fat or ripped or obviously muscular although it is. i think wow... i should be exercising more and probably drinking those protein drinks too, you know, to expedite the process. but hey, it tastes so damn bad. then i remembered the wise words of muscular and protein drink guru steve, who once told me that yeah, it tastes bad but do you know what i do? i chug it and close my eyes and visualize all the beautiful chicks ill be picking up because im so ripped. maybe steve's advice would work for me. truth is... i dont really know. you see, at that moment, the combination of steves wise words about the babes and the cynical relationship book made it all so fucking comical. i almost laughed. suddenly i didnt need to be ripped or to have a relationship just for the sake of having one. didnt need to french kiss or have sex or get married because it was the cool thing to do. its all so funny, we do the same old dances with girls and guys over and over again and for what? is everyone out there looking to get married and have kids? hell no. they say that humans and dolphins are the only two animals that have sex for pleasure. so is sex the only point in our young lives? am i the only kid out there that sees girlfriends as people to stay with? candidates for marriage perhaps. am i missing the point or is everyone else so ridiculous and ignorant as to spend much of their young lives not setting themselves up for a life of happiness but rather fucking with each other's fragile emotional states? sex-driven and insensitive - your prototypical hormonal teen searching for that holy-grail, that untoppable experience to permanently put a damper on the other kids' erections. is that all we are these days? judging women by their cup size over their (and i hate to say it really) personality. it is so funny to me how stupid our society has become. but thats really a terrible combination of beach and memory and cynicism that struck me. you kids out there stay clean (rigght) and as soon as i really start to feel hypocritical i will let you guys know. i can see both sides of the issue really but i dont feel like going into it right now. ive been writing for an hour and have managed an envelope and a third (on a different note, a carefully unfolded envelope isnt any better to write on, its just a funny shape ). wait though, another thought. some of the quotes in the book really struck me today. some chapters spoke to me. some quotes, one in particular, brought out really happy and painful old memories from one of you. i still remember all that emotional entanglement and you know i would give hell to have it all back again and more. so lets make it a date, say, july? its odd to see expressed in fine print exactly your own opinion of yourself, perhaps low self-esteem or maybe just practiced humbleness, and it is liberating to see that someone understand. creepy that anybody who had read the bestseller had seen it too. its against the point anyway. who gives a fuck why she likes you when the point is she does. or that relationships are crap these days ( i havent decided which point is more valid). ill figure it out in time though, when i get the chance to test the waters to really see if things can work out, can happen. if dreams can come true. it must be difficult to know that somebody's entire love-philosophy rests on your compatibility. it is silly, yes, but serious also and you must not make this all a mistake. wasted time may mean better writing for a while but not happiness. fulfillment or lack of resentment later on. youre in the hot seat babe. question is: does that turn you on? ah but i jest. unlikely my entire social experience could be defined by an adolescent celibacy i know a helluva lot of people are very frightened to lose and the mental transition to something different. but as of yet that isnt an issue, nobody expects me to be a player of any sort and im thankful for that because im not sure i could handle my bitches the right way anyway. another good point i am reminded of from the book. it would be interesting to travel ten years in the future and re-evaluate my life because i am very good at the past - it is the present and future i dont understand. two envelopes down and 1:20 in the AM so i am going to toss my pen at the dreaming cat (comical really) and nap for the night. love you guys. goodnight.


early monday morning
just after midnight early monday morning and i just realized its a monday. damn, well mondays arent so bad in summertime i guess. i have another envelope and figured i would sit down and stay a bit. some show on nascar is playing and that seems to be pleasant enough for right now. fathers day was very nice. took the big sea-doo out on the intracoastal and cruised by swansboro for a little while. got a little wet but i suppose that has to happen every couple trips out. cruising along at maybe thirty-five or forty and this huge black bug comes down and smacks me (the driver) in the forhead. oh well, shit happens. we all had a good laugh about it and the mark it left went away eventually. after all - i guess he lost the battle eh? didnt make it out to the beach though. sort of took a nap halfway through the nascar race @ michigan and after schumacher (presumably) pulled a 1-2 ferrari victory with barrichello @ indy's road course in the f-1 race. not that yall give a fuck at all about that but i thought i would mention it still. cooked out on the grill tonight as well. occurred to me while watching those burgers sitting helplessly as flames lept out of the charcoals and consumed them im n a whirling spout of fire that when cows think of hell, this is probably the vision that comes to mind. chopped up into ground beef being cooked by an american male standing cross-armed and testosterone stoked staring at the grill. grunt grunt. eternal flame-broiling. i think phil mickelson lost the us open also. he is cool for being left-handed. so am i. but i dont gold left handed. ok some things i really need to say about the us grand prix today. first - ralph schumacher goes into the wall but help doesnt arrive for three minutes. three fucking minutes? that is bullshit. nascar medics are to an accident scene in ten seconds. show a lttle effort guys. schuey went to the hospital. montoya breaks a rule before the race and they dont black flag him until 50 fo the 73 laps are done. and he was in third place. they should have had him off the track after lap two. wasted shit. and to cap it off, jag's engine blew while in 6th place near the end of the race. that was for points. dammit boy. oh well, its just racing. i dont even feel like writing tonight. i feel like solid piano and sleep. so forgive me if this (relatively short) piece sucks arse. my bad yall. fuck off. goodnight.


late monday night
again like last night (or early this morning i guess) i am really not in the mood for writing but somehow... i am forcing myself to do this even though i am tired, slightly sunburnt and have to get up decently early in the morning. and most of all i do not want to see two chunky black women - the parkers - bouncing around in the background. jesus christ i wish this night would leave me alone. anyway i finished that book today so sex is still on my mind which made for odd thoughts on the beach. my mother and i were watching a baby (a year... 18m. maybe ) walking around the beach with his parents. it was pretty cute actually. my mother tells me she cannot wait to have grandchildren. maybe in ten years or so? im sure it just occurred to her as something that will happen in due time but to me it represents a lot to do. now suddenly i have to find a girl to love (one that accepts me anyway), get married and have a kid. this, of course, would require sex. do you think my mother considered that? its kind of hard to over look but for a parent, doesnt sound like something to spend time thinking about. wonder how she would react to that... i thought about mentioning it and ruining the moment just to get a reaction to see how she would play it off but i decided against it. its almost too much to bear to see every set of parents out there and think of how they were fucking. disturbing even. i think i saw some figures once in class and figured that worldwide there was something like 15 acts of sexual intercourse every second or more or something {more like 150,000 ~ ed}. i dont know. the beach still has interesting decidedly less sexy points as well though. the people lined up at the gently sloping shoreline make it a great place to do dimension checks. look down the beach and observe. now close one eye and see it all in 2-d, flat; watch people walk into others and hit their heads on far off buildings in the flat plane of your vision. now open the other eye and watch depth return, invisibly and unconciously, and suddently the regained depth makes things a lot less fun. oh well. but as for tonight, i need to leave. still have last nights piano in the deck and some daydreaming should do me nicely. actually, i will stay up and see leno's headlines before crashing. its just that... im tired yall. its not something i am used to. i sleep for the sake of it, not because i need it. i feel like an old man, listening to my slow, metered breathing. i can almost feel the skin cancer birthing on my skin. so stupid. and also, i dont think i can handle death very well so, dear, expect me to follow when you go. years from now anyway. goodnight you guys, i love you all.


tuesday night - 10:10
i could not wait tonight. in here in a side room with tv guide on instead of nip/tuck. my father just went to bed and i have so much to say. all stuffed up inside me. a couple minutes ago i was in there on the couch lying down while he told my sister and i he was going to bed. stood there and told us. i dont make eye contact and eventually put my head down and close my eyes tight with the small hope that he would be gone when they opened. of course he isnt and still he stands like some hero, some monument to foiled honorable intentions. so fucking righteous he stands and makes a dull comment about what is on the television to my sister. he isnt silent at all. he stands there fifteen feet away calling to me for vindication.begging me for simple recognition for a simple heartless "im sorry" (we love apologies in my family. it is so natural. do a fuckup - im sorry. or if you are my sister - im SORRRYYY... GOD. or at least try to sound sincere. everybody knows you couldnt give a shit one way or the other but hey - god - its the thought that counts. not apologizing shows so much more distain to the offended an obviously sarcastic "soooorrryyy....". after all, even if sarcastic starts more argument, argument doesnt hurt them like being snubbed does. but i digress...) well fuck him if he thinks i will recognize him on the floor at all. ::hard blink:: still there. after about 12 or 13 minutes at monumenting he goes through the general goodnight gestures to the room in general. my sister participates but i shut my eyes and he walks away. vindicate him?? vindicate me! i am the victim in this tragedy. i was the driver. i got on the brake and with two hands on the wheel now (earlier - "brooks, are you ok? youre weaving a bit" - well thats what happens when you drive one handed dad) pulling quickly onto the shoulder and evading the big red minivan that suddenly pulled out into the median... across the median and into our lane without seeing our headlights. bastard swerves back in median and stops and i stop then drive on... but wait! i didnt get on the horn! i managed to save us a wreck, maybe save some lives but i didnt get on the fucking horn. please get on me about it. im sorry im just not a very horny person. oh well - he didnt see you so get on the horn and get out of his way in some "fantastic manner". that one i dont get. if i had gotten anywhere any more fantastically, we would all be balls to the wall in the seafood restaurant's front sign. fuck managing to avoid the wreck and stay on the road, all four wheels planted... i didnt get on the horn. so i get a little sarcastic and we all get pissed... i get back, walk up to the beach for a bit.... come back and write my first song for guitar (it has no lyrics but fuck it for now) and during the apologies rant he has the nerve to walk in on the locked room and try and vindicate himself. im always a fan of gumption and fathers in (spongebob) boxers but not tonight. fuck off. so i politely ignore all he says. i think he "sensed" my anger. we might have ended on a "starting over tomorrow" or something. again i decline goodnights and loudly lock the door behind him. im so cruel. and i dont care. i am the victim. next time i will simply get on the horn, hit him (it was clearly his fault), climb out of the car and scream at him. something like: "i honked at you! couldnt you see me you dirty bastard? couldnt you hear me you fucking deutsch? this is all your fucking fault. die!!" maybe then i could truely be the victim and nobody could blame me for not being loud enough. ugh. fucking hell.


friday morning - 12:56
big storm last night. lots of lightening. all i wanted to do was sit out on the patio and watch it over the pool and ocean... and i did. i also wanted to go out there and write a bit about it but unfortunately i fell asleep. twice. sorry, being out there the first time was nice though. the sister was in watching the parkers and i went out and watched if for fifteen minutes maybe - just lonely and wishing quite ferverently for either of a couple people to be there beside me, just quiet, just watching the storm. it was beautiful really. storms are natures most beautiful phenomenoms to me. all i need was someone to share it with. so eventually my sister wandered outside and in spite of herself if was nice to have her just... out there too. she is tolerable sometimes. conan is on with marlon wayans. funny guys really. yesterday we took the sea-doo down to swansboro and back up a couple miles up the intra-coastal towards morehead (giggle)(no) city. because we are out all day i shower in the afternoons so my hair (which had been hatted and more recently flying in the wind ) was nasty... and red. on the way down to 'boro we passed a boat with a hot girl sunbathing on the front. the rest of my family waved customarily but i didnt bother. i just realized i looked like conan obrien. ugh. so after all that we took the big doo back in and relaxed on the beach some more. it just never gets old. so back to now. im having an affair with a yellow notebad. abandoned the envelopes for a night. i will apologize to them later. also, i am really happy with everything right now. ive realized that absence really does make the heart grow fonder. i havent spoken to a single one of my friends in six days and counting. i am... ok wit that. i am on good terms with everyone. by not speaking to anyone i keep my own little dream world they all subsist in and nobody can change that. i have no doubt that i will enjoy a lot of you less when i get home. but some of you... maybe not. there are a couple that i actually really need to see again. i have had entire relationships in my head. unfortunately they never live up to real life. when i was sitting out last night with that amazing storm there really was only one or two of you i really wanted to have there. tonight my sister managed to flip this matthew perry movie on. three to tango or something. the one where everybody thinks he's gay. anyway there was a cute girl that he was after that thought he was gay etc. i liked her a lot. he was being a moron and deserved to die. wouldnt talk to her. i wanted him to sit down and tell her everything, just be honest, it was killing me because i wanted her for myself and this fucking idiot was completely fucking the entire situation up. of course he got her in the end but it was stupid by then. i relate her to one of you. so during the entire thing i was thinking of you (no, not you, you #2). i dont even care if things are weird, fuck it. i want to be happy. only got one chance to use the excuse that im seventeen to cover my stupidity. might as well utilize it. by the way, theres a proposal in congress to lower the drinking age to 18. perfect timing i say. just more excuses for being stupid. these arent the times for super-fidelity. these are the times for affairs, cheating, and memories. awww... so help me out here... or dont take me seriously, whatever. i am satisfied with what i have written so far and am scared to continue. im sick of being alone. i dont deserve this.


friday night - 11:58
just saw a guy stop an industrial fan with his bare tongue and next to me is two small reeces cups, four special dark hersheys chocolates (lovely) and a large half-glass of milk so naturally... im in a good way. mmm - check that... one reeces cup. hey, dont get me wrong, i love the wayans brothers and sarah jessica parker but i am sick and tired of hearing about 'white chicks' and 'sex and the city'. the Average American Male has had enough. went out to beaufort again this morning. nothing too spectacular comes to mind except a drop dead gorgeous old 50's - 60's (didnt get a close look) merc SL drop-top with a creme leather interior. stunning vehicle. oh and i got a hat. its just not as exciting as the last hat i got on vacation. half as expensive and made from plant - not animal - materials. thats all i am going to say about that. mmm - three special darks. i figure that if you space it right, milk and chocolate work really well. figure in one or two sips per chocolate and a good five or six to fully rinse your mouth out with when you are finished... perfect. 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1... and im out of candy and milk. ah damn, oh well im getting fat anyway. the television is just unnervingly loud. not particularly noticable, just continually attention grabbing. keep getting the feeling that someone is going to disturb me to turn it down. i lowered it and whoever was in the hallway starked away. im getting anxious. i need now to talk to a couple people. i need to give love, express emotional, get down and dirty and interact for hours on end. dwight the troubled teen is a dick; of course i will continue to download music. its hard to both appreciate the the artists and steal their music but i survive. i get by. i heard at my senior portrait sessions that i look like jeff beck. thats a new one to go with my blonde ringo starr. maybe a mix of both. seems like ill be a star someday. the comic on television just said something wonderfully true. i love this man now. he was talking about breaking up with people you hate and now people say being alone can build character. but no, he says, "the only things you build when you are alone are tiny 'matchstick cathedrals of despair". so true. i was thinking this afternoon as my father and i trundled out to the grills to cook our marinated thick steak that the AAM (Average American Male for those of you that arent paying attention) doesnt have much to live up to anymore. what is there to accomplish? this isnt going out and shooting deer for our meal or fighting the high seas for fish to bring home to eat. this is walking around our sand-spur free condominum complex by the sea with meat, quicklite charcoal, a lighter, and a fork. and yet, my father it into a man's activity. he grunts every now and then, yes, the big men cooking the meat while the womenfolk prepare the rest of the meal back at the condo (actually my mother cooked and my sister laid on the couch and griped a lot but thats nothing new). but cooking is for the men apparently, well, grilling anyway. todayis AAM is starved for small american victories. grilling is a small american victory. i felt good poking that slab of storebought meat because i was going to take it back home. its pride in this day and age. not everyone can climb mountains or build their own hot rods, hunt beaver pelts or ranch cattle... your AAM can cook meat. he can provide sometimes - but the wife works too. the AAM takes pride in drinking beer and working machinery. thats just the way it is. im sorry if this last thought has been poor and disjointed but ive been watching conan as well. hmm... by the time i get all these posts typed up (god bless me) this might be the single longest post (even if it is a compilation)ive ever written. couple thousand words at least and all handwritten. go me. dedication, not really and blood or sweat but a couple tears. the mood to write just - whoosh - left me so ill go ahead and wrap it up tonight. so not much else happened. watched 'analyze that' with dad and spent almost an hour in the hottub with him and my sister (the mother doesnt do fun things) looks like omelettes, beach, and possibly (if we are lucky) shuffleboards today. not a bad last day down here. well, it is over an hour into saturday and ive been writing for... 74 minutes already. love most of you, goodnight.


saturday night - 11:54
what would life be without motifs? without theme or design? everybody needs something to fall back on, something they understand and can make sense of for conversation or inspiration. this should be fairly obvious to all of you by now - one of my best motifs is lonliness. it engulfs me. i was watching yet another ben stiller movie tonight (keeping the faith) and again it was a love story with an interesting girl that i would have loved to be a part of. and it broke my heart. the same old shit with a new face. breaks my heard that the guy always gets the girl. so im lonely and i understand it and it is what i turn to in conversations or when i need to write something because it comes so easy to me. if i were a painter i would paint a picture looking down a railway with a single railcar in the desert. or maybe a painting of a football field looking from one endzone to the other - at lights - with the stands filled with cheering stands and standing in the middle of the damp steaming field the football star - helmet on, ball held by his side, looking away from the audience - he is alone. the star on the field with no one to pass to. but thats only if i were a painter. the songs i write are quite agressive but that is because agressive is simple and easy and im not ready to do slow and sultry yet. you could draw the connection between agressiveness and bitterness and though i hate to admit it, im bitter's daddy. it isnt something i am attached to though. not consciously bitter that is... just randomly, subtly. i dont get the touch or the breakdown that the people in the movies get. i give love, i exude the precious stuff. i hope you can feel it. i dont feel any love. maybe i resent that. it gets tiring to expend effort on people, to love, to listen, to think about them... and get nothing in return. i get excuses - hah - i guess that takes a bit of effort. i guess i should take what i can get though right? tell me guys, am i wrong? is love and excuses better than excommunication and nobody pretending? can i handle the truth? wouldnt bet on it. i was going to use lonliness somewhere in the above comparo but it really works in both cases. im counting on you guys to pretty much infer about that anyway. we should be on the same page. actually wait a second yall. i just had a revelation here. lonliness in the second case would be temporary. i am drawn to people who love me back. it is a self-esteem thing i guess. having someone love you is so much more wonderful than loving. but coming from somebody you respect, love is sure to follow. the reason i am so connected to some people is the claim that they love me. it draws me in. i get stuck with the idea that a pretend relationship is worthwhile if there is 'love' to pass around. if these people would be honest with me, just tell me they dont love me then i could let go. the worth, the attraction would be lost and i could leave. sure it would hurt like hell for a while but once the ruse is over i truely wouldnt be missing anything. thus, barring clinical depression, i wouldnt be lonely anymore. thus, barring clinical depression, ruining the motif. or, lets say things go the opposite direction. we stop pretending, i feel the love and the lonliness fades. motif turns to love. either way, something goes down. something gets better. i am looking forward to this part because things are bound to get interesting. i want your warm but it will only make me colder when its over so i cant tonight baby. love, goodnight.