ignorance is bliss

i was driving home from the pool - we had a swim check for the little kid scouts - and felt wonderful. i took this side road home, one that sort of cuts a corner but isnt any shorter. its just curvy and people drive faster because its out in the country and theres fewer cars. i was in the old red jeep, partly why i took the road, because driving a stick makes it so much more of an experience, less just driving. for some reason, the road opens into a fairly wide delta when it intersects the road i was on so i took the corner quickly and when i got to the apex - sort of, i mean its all relative here - i dropped it into third gear and stomped the gas. there isnt as much fear in doing that in the jeep as in some other vehicles, its the four - 2.5 litre i think - so it just goes with a good little push and grumbles a little because i hit it just below the sweet spot. i love that. it was actually a little bit downhill so i got to going a little too fast but i got going straight again without too much drama, less rolling the damn thing anyway. i figured i looked really cool but to onlookers i know i was just a jackass. whatever, i didnt really mind.

it was the slightest bit below seventy out, i think, anyway so i had both windows zipped down and my elbow hanging out. blasting jlc's 'my guitar' from the two little bass speakers behind the seats. im pretty sure i wasnt singing that time like i was earlier. no sunglasses or anything. in fact, if some cop pulled me over i think he would be surprised that i was in my swimsuit. figured there wasnt anything wrong with that since it never got wet or anything. i would have had to reach over in my pants in the passenger seat to show him my id.

this particular road simply winds and curves its way through the country, up and down a few dips and hills, typical for the piedmont, and is spattered with farms, stables, and the occasional lower-middle-class subdivision. the sun was just going down so the air was a little cool - or maybe its just my imagination as i try to relive this. i passed a couple people and went wide for a biker, hoping that nobody would come around the blind corner ahead of me while i was toeing their lane. they didnt. when i crested that wide chicane i noticed i was doing about twenty over but that didnt really bother me. nobody was really out on the roads anyway. if someone had decided to pull out in front of me or had a deer wandered onto the asphalt i might just have died.

speeding past the few remaining tobacco fields, i thought about that time earlier in the year when i almost wrecked that damn wrangler coming down a hill on new pavement, when i didnt notice that the people in front of me were stopping for a left hand turn at the bottom. i slammed on brakes so hard that the wheels locked and sort of jumped off the pavement. there was a slow motion moment of limbo there where i didnt know what was going to happen. the damn thing hopped and as it did, the rear end kicked out in little increments from left to right and back again like an little girl dancing with flowers. i kept it straight and - among copious tire screeching and the smell of wasted rubber - i stopped short of rear-ending the guy in front of me. which is a good thing, considering i was driving one of the least safe vehicles on the road. that passed through my mind but didnt really slow the thing down, not this afternoon.

nobody did, no deer did, thankfully, and i was able to make it to the top of a certain hill where, on the left was my side road back to my destination, without too much drama. (what a fucked up sentence) i love how after a while of driving fast through the country, my body works in a unison rairly acheived. whereas in most sports, certain limbs only perform simple tasks such as jumping or running or even swimming (its so learned and rhythmic), driving is different. eyes watching the road while - independantly - left hand mans the steering wheel's nine-thirty position, right hand rests on the gear shift knob, left foot pauses lightly on the clutch pedal, while right foot rests carefully on the brake. when all work in unison, an emergency stop is much less likely to kill you. i remember earlier when i had to steer right handed because i was drinking with the left, the man in front (in a jeep too i think) suddenly slowed and i think i hit the clutch and brake and the same time. there was an instant when nothing was supporting my body but my butt. some balance, i was proud of myself. these things amuse me.

so i made it back home just fine. i guess nothing really exciting happened that trip. i never got pulled over, had to burn rubber for any reason, or died. but i appreciated that it was so enjoyable, even as a quieter song crept through the speakers. there is some value in breaking the speed limit in situations like that.

the whole time, ignorance is bliss. for those couple minutes i managed to ignore my friends (however friendly) and those with means to torture me. whatever. for a minute it didnt matter. it seems like all i write about these days are those cruel kids anyway. ignorance is bliss.

i am walking the concrete beside the pool from my shaded chair, book in hand and camera on back. i walk solemnly and contained with a tension that is reminicent of the last man on earth. so no one speaks to me. head down when i pass people, softly closing the gate in graceful quiet motion. the wind ceases when i turn the building's corner - into the shadow and cool. there is a woman standing behind the door of the sports complex looking out over the parking lot. she has something white bundled in her arms. when she turns and walks away it turns into a white rag.

later

i walk resolutely. the same path, the same people. book in arm, cup in hand. no shirt this time. my shadow on the concrete reminds me of a superhero's bony profile. last man on earth.

12:08

i feel fortunate that i am able to post while at the beach. it seems like a good opportunity to write something different, something stemming from some other inspiration. but instead i go over the same old shit again and again. hah, its just what matters.

fact is, i go into my bedroom simply to see if my phone has received a new message and curse at it out loud if it hasnt. i check away messages from my secretish screen name to see what people are thinking. i write and respond to comments like theres no tomorrow. this romantic beach trip technology getaway isnt exactly working out. on the other hand, i have taught myself to play a little piano. im not sure whether picking the notes out one by one until i get a line memorized and can play some part of elton john counts as "learning the piano" but its better than nothing. i sat down here last night and wrote a song on my guitar. its just chords with a little breakdown based off a C, no big deal i mean ive done it before. in fact i tried to write lyrics to it but they came out angry and didnt fit, like me i guess. it was turning out country. ick. i told sharon though that i would record it when im done and send it to her so perhaps i will finish it someday. not like there arent others still unfinished though.

somethings, perhaps, are never done. after all, the ocean is never full. and its damn hot/cold on the beach depending on which side of the umbrella youre on. the carpet smells like dog no matter what you do and you dont fool around with jim. fact is, that i hope our children look like you should relieve all doubts. we shouldnt have kids. there is a mental block there. there is a physical block there. a moral block there. too many blocks. i hate to say its all up to you but it probably is. im weak. and there are too many blocks.

i feel so safe in this place. it only occurred to me last night that we are on the bottom floor of a five - and sometimes six - story complex. it never occurred to me before that if i look up there are four more rooms directly above me which may or may not contain people much like me. and yet, the walls arent crumbling. the rigidity is amazing. all those people wont die and i wont die even though they are hanging in space above me. strange. it also occurred to me, angela, that every word i read you have read. all of a sudden i cant help but wonder where you were and what you were thinking when you reached that passage. i want to see the look on your face when you read that line that made me laugh. it feels like that.

i lie in bed at night with my headphones on, dreaming of kissing her. not who you would think. sometimes its the singer, sometimes a random girl i saw on match.com. sometimes it means something, mostly it doesnt. sometimes its just a song. i lie in bed feeling every note, seeing every sound, in between sleep and wake, conscious of my body because it hasnt moved in an hour and is getting tired. i wonder if anybody else can hear me. i look over and check my phone for messages. curse under my breath. wish i could play that, assure myself i will soon. (do you think dave grohl ever gives his drummer tips?)

i would like to stop writing about myself and all i think and do. god knows its never interesting. mostly it just helps me figure it all out for myself. i was thinking the other day that if i really do take philosophy at wake forest that it will give me something real to think about. maybe then it will get interesting. till then though, its just angry words for girls.

what if i asked you to choose?

a little something different

mmm... so im down at the beach, in a hoody and jeans, under a blanket, with the laptop screen propped on a tissue box, watching letterman, and drinking some odd on-the-rocks mixture i just threw together which is pretty much half bacardi hurricane (rum) and half chi-chi's margarita gold (tequila) and its pretty much good.

meh, there is nothing much going on.

although... i am signed into my other screen name which pretty much no one knows about. ahahaha i just dont want to talk to you people. well except sharon. and i dont care if you are a loser. i dont want to deal with this shit. actually i do. i really do. but i refuse to give in, refuse to lose. so i wont speak. wait for text messages actually, like thats much better... i hold some ideal about being at the beach. like that i shouldnt have this computer and be wasting my time here doing nothing. even though it is 1150 and i dont have any friends here to hang out with and enjoy my fruity 25-proof cocktail.

i should have better things to do.

however, there are two interesting things i noticed a couple days ago. first, i was driving out to mow my grandmothers grass (yes, my job)...(pitiful eh?) and i passed a semi-truck going in the opposite direction. this truck had a big white "student driver" sign on the front. not something you see everyday. i mean i knew they existed... its just never something i ever thought of seeing in person. crazy. a couple miles down the road i saw something drop out of the air. in the split second it took me to pass the spot i noticed it was a butterfly. a dead butterfly (of the yellow with black spots variety) had just... died and dropped out of the sky to fall between the two yellow lines on the road. dying butterflies while im driving. also something i havent seen in a long while. it was sad, really, butterflies. if any creature should be allowed to live it should be the butterflies. what have they ever done to hurt anyone? what, i ask you?

ah, anyway, thats it. have a nice night.

its good

driving at night is one of the most beautiful things i can think of. i imagine myself driving in a picture when the negative is driving at night. the beauty isnt obvious, its ambiant. everything that matters is lit up some way, nothing exists outside of that long highway and the lights from the dash. especially with the ebbing and flowing breakdowns of coldplay from the speakers. the world, so busy in the harsh light, sleeps. light crowds the scene, forcing objects to be real, forcing the peripheral. at night its much less... and so much more.

i was taking a curve back in between civilizations when something fell and hit my arm, just glancing and soft, so it felt like a cool, rough hand grabbing my arm from the backseat. i am glad im not angela or i might have gone off the road and died. i didnt freak out, simply kept driving. its part of being only moderately freakable and relatively stable. it was only the garage door opener falling from its precarious spot on my grandmother's sunvisor. i dug around between the seat and the center console and dropped it in the passenger seat.

it reminded me of sitting around telling true north carolina ghost stories. and true california ghost stories. and true south pacific weird stories. and fake ohio ghost stories. and fake north dakota ghost stories. and my true world civ room ghost/fairy story. and also my true virginia ghost story that never got told. it was pretty rough anyway.

and i appreciate b&b. and how we were undefeated even with the gods and ohhhhh singing girls against us. even against other men. i had a wonderful night. special people can do that...

on a more personal note, i regret the decline of friendships. i regret that after years of so much emotion, good and bad, that the friendship i had considered a relief has become a disappointment. maybe i had my expectations too high. i couldnt drop them that low, though. because you were never normal. love grew from something of a perfect friendship to begin with. i wanted that back. i hoped for something less. i got something sanitary and boring. every dynamic, moving, wonderful friendship has emotion. it has love and hate. it has fire and rain, the troubles and the relief. and to ascend farther was amazing while it lasted. maybe it is just impossible to undo what was done.

even if love doesnt open new doors, it shouldnt lock old ones.

what im trying to say it that this shouldnt have to be retroactive. i dont want it to be. i think we are just burnt out. and that maybe someday we will find what we lost and fix this. until then i will live with the dead conversations. the 'how are you tonight' forced words. the flatness that comes from two people who know their duty is to be a friend but their heart isnt in it. lets fix this.

oh to be in the other hand. dueling situations that should rightfully be opposite. and you... coming at me out of almost nowhere. charging to the forefront with your apologetic and loving talk. my defenses fail. it is one thing i can count on, that any facade i truly believe in will crumble with a few choice words. its too bad, always has been, that you and i will never be together. this is something i still believe. because i cant break up relationships. maybe its because i would hate it if someone tried it on me. at least there is emotion. there are butterflies and love, hate and annoyance. sometimes you make me sick. sometimes i want to cuddle up in your bed and take in the simple concept that it could happen. but it wont. we will hold hands in the future but never more.

you will always be the one that at the drop of a word, brings on a realization. one of false hope and almost loss. a feeling of dropping back to reality. that pain is what heartache must be like. it is hopeless and nihilistic. its a pain that few have ever had the power to give me. so sickening. starts in the base of the throat and sweeps down behind the ribs and through the stomach into the gut, a crimson wave. its always a crimson wave when i think of it.

just know that even though i love you

i dont hate that

dogcatchers

its been too long, im sorry.

theres really no excuse, unless you count that ive been busy or... unavailible or... too damn out of it to write. theres been a lot on my mind but nothing really to say. just business. i graduated. this is a big deal right? i get through the days convincing myself that it is something that most everyone does eventually and that its well, just something else. people give me gifts and send cards and are, as a whole, far too generous for my tastes. i dont feel like i deserve any of it. to people, my parents explain, its an opportunity to express their love for you. dont know what ive done to deserve that. maybe to them its another milestone and in their eyes i am becoming a man. since im not jewish anyway. its still hard to accept. some things amaze me. i only hope i am as much a blessing on them as they are on me.

and people. there is always some drama between me and someone else, a girl usually, whether they know it or not. to whom it may concern, and you know who you are - why do you have to be that way? i fall for you over and over again and you manage to fuck it up. usually i will end up hating you for a while and eventually get over it, start the cycle all over again. im sick of it. im sick of you. so damn materialistic, never satisfied. cant you just be happy?

far as i can tell theres two resolutions here. you move away and we talk every now and then, less and less as the months pass, as we realize we arent going to hang out anymore. we fall into being friendly to each other simply because neither of us cares enough to be mean. or, we lose it all together. im dropping all expectations here and now. whatever the future holds, my dear, is up to you.

i havent read any of the entries in my yearbook yet. i figured this year, for some reason, i would wait till everyone was done, or till the summer... i would sit down late at night under a single light, all comfortable and such, and read them all at once. not everybody's done i guess, but the time seems to be here. i just cant force myself to do it. my summer's in limbo until i crack that spine. maybe i postpone it a little longer. but then wouldnt it just be more difficult? it has to come out eventually. maybe even that page i promised to the girl above. what i had figured out to be a short novel, condensed into a sentence or two, and now... how can you be cruel in a yearbook? im not that much of a bastard. i need some more time on this.

dogcatchers...

whatever happened to dogcatchers? back when i was young, dogcatchers were a main badguy in stories for children primarily because those stories featured dogs. well, thats a given. animals are so much more pure, starkly moral even though it would be hard to define a dog's set of values. dogs dont start wars, maybe, dogs dont kill people. dogs eat smaller animals but that never makes it into the stories.

the dogcatchers were always the badguys, the ones to snatch up the hero dogs when they were out in the street. the dogcatchers were always greasy, stumpy, fat guys. they were bad because they couldnt get by any other way. actually, sometimes it was the short, fat guy and the tall, thin guy with the mustache working in tandem. for some reason the dogcatcher fell out of my conscience for a number of years. i cant remember consciously thinking that concept last year, or the year before, or whatever. it was brought back today.

dogcatchers arent bad people.