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Oct. 13th, 2010

The hole in the paper sack

I may had been one of the most hated people I've ever known. So stifled and alienated and left alone to struggle to communicate. So much like my deaf parents in that respect. I had such a story to tell. I had so much to say. So many emotions to spend. I spent a decade locked in a room trying to find all the ways to say it. I did the absolute best I could. I wrote music that was true to myself. And I said everything. I said "This is my pain, and for me to just speak of it will make me forget to eat, it will make me neglect my family from my defaulted hatred of myself, I'm here to say these things that happened weren't my fault, this was what I was born into, and I've done everything I can to be a good person in spite of this."

And no one gave a shit.

Yes,  after everything I tried, no one gave a shit. That's a hard fucking fact that I wouldn't begrudge anyone to feel sorry for themselves about. As long as they don't spend thier entire lives going over that. Cause we are all on our own out here. Every single one of us. So who the hell am I to feel sorry for myself about this? No matter how sorry I feel for myself, no one else is going to feel sorry for me at the end of the day. So what else am I doing aside from being pathetic?

Yes, I'm alone. Yes I'm out here fighting for myself. Yes I've been fighting my whole life. And suddenly I have something in common with everyone. Is my pain really worse than anyone elses? And if it is, is that ever, ever going to matter to anyone other than myself? Is anyone else going to know how hard I had to fight for any of my accomplishments? Is anyone going to pat me on the back for that? No... thats not ever going to happen. And it wouldn't even really matter if it did. This is still my fight, anyways. And I'm going to be okay. In my heart I know this.

Dec. 11th, 2009

Ice song Eyes song

I opened my eyes and looked out the window at the bitter cold air outside the car. The steam on the windows keeping us unexposed and the beads of water and ice on the glass reflecting light like a thousand little stars. I look at Danielle and she looks at me and looks away like she has no idea how to keep eye contact with anyone. And I bring my head down into her line of sight and she looks away again. I said "Can't you look me in the eyes?" she looks at me again and breaks the stare a second later. she said "I can, I just need to learn how?". I held her face in my hands and looked at her. And she looked back and held it. I stared at her as her face sat in soft focus maybe two inches away from my line of sight. "You are so beautiful" I said to her. And she smiled an embarrassed look. Then she made a series of small subtle twitches. Her eyes got bloodshot like she was going to cry. I took her hand and put it on my heart like my pulse was going to say something I couldn't. And my eyes were bloodshot. I told her that I really liked being there with her. And she smiled that embarrassed smile again. And she paused and said "I like you so much that it scares me". And I told her I didn't feel scared at all. And she didn't feel anxious to me. I wanted to ask her if she felt safe with me. She said we could sleep there. Inside of the car inside of the blizzard outside. This small little space of protection. The ice creeping up the windows backlit by the luster of the parking lot lights over our heads. I strain so hard to leave.

Nov. 27th, 2009

Danielle

Danielle started working with me maybe three weeks ago. She didn't have any sort of eye contact with anyone. I watched her have her interview and I thought there wasn't a chance she'd get hired cause she just looked like talking to anyone was the last thing on her mind. The first day she started working with me I didn't make any attempt to talk to her. I don't know, maybe I wanted to feel it out. I felt like a sixth grader. Trying to walk by her and hoping she'd try to notice me. If she ever looked at me it'd be this quick glimpse and a nervous smile and she'd look away. The second day I worked with her we started work at the same time. And though there might of been someone else my boss had in mind to train her, I planted myself right next to her. And hoped he wasn't going to have a problem with me working there. So I spent the whole day there trying to keep conversations going. Which wasn't easy. I asked her all these questions about herself. Going back and forth struggling with what to say and ask, to keep it interesting but not getting all carried away in all of the really personal conversations I thrive on.

A few days pass and again I'm working with her in the morning. Really hoping I'd be right next to her again. But my boss wanted me to work in the back. I kept making excuses to walk out on the floor trying to make eye contact. Feeling this sort of confusion in my stomach from all the bad things that had happened to me in the last few days outside of work. She wouldn't look at me. I felt like such an ass doing all this pacing. I hadn't felt so nervous to just make a move in such a really long time. But I just thought she was beautiful and I found her so hard to read. I felt like all the blood had completely drained out of my face as I walked up. And I nervously asked her if she wanted to have lunch with me. And she smiled and looked up at the ceiling and took all of one second to consider it. And then she looked at me and said "sure". And I said "Alright" and feel grateful I was working and could find the means to peel myself from the situation cause I couldn't fucking think of anything else to say. And if I had to sit there and say anything else I would have fell completely flat on my face. I was this stammering little kid. Who managed to avoid the stammering. But I did eventually have to come back and ask her when and where we should go.

So we met in this pretentious little restaurant full of law students. But it was a decent looking place. And she came in wearing this gray sweater top and skirt with tights underneath. And she looked alot more comfortable in her own skin. And we ate and then took a walk by the river trail. And I had a good time with her but it was a bit of a nervous kind of affair. I really tried to get a sense of her. And didn't get as much as I'd have liked. But I liked everything I'd heard.

At the end of the date I walked her to her car and we were standing by the sidewalk downtown surrounded by people. She seemed a bit tense as I walked her back. I told her I had a great time and wanted to see her again and she smiled again and said "yeah..." in this subtly eager tone. I didn't want to kiss her there. Well I did, but my instincts didn't. I made the choice to hold back though that has been a choice to fail me before. Fail me in the sense that I might've missed out on a few one night stands in my past where maybe I could've used one. But I don't know.... I thought if I held back that maybe she'd feel like I took her seriously. Kinda going out on a limb with that assumption though. So reached in to hug her and she kind twitched backward in anxiety. Which I would've thought it was her ambivalence to me when she pulled back. But when I pulled back her head kinda leaned in like she was expecting me to kiss her but I didn't. And wondered if I was going to regret that. You're always on such eggshells on first dates. At least with ones that you want to work. And I think it did.

So I set another date for today. Just over a week after our first date. I showed her pictures I took of this ran down but beautiful factory by a park in the heart of the city in this hard to find place and said we should go. And she said she'd like that and she was always looking for another adventure. Which really was the kind of language I love to hear. I love these sorts of things. Old buildings and wandering into all of thier corners and that sort of exploration. I totally thrive on those things and felt really encouraged that she did too.

So today I worked with her. And felt this sort of insecurity in the last few days. Not that I had any reason to. Just my nature I guess. I asked her if she wanted to ride with me after work and she said yes. So after work we got in my car and I started playing Joy Division. And we arrived at the park and I could tell she really liked the place. But goddamn it was cold. And I hoped it wasn't going to kill it for me. So we walked down the sidewalk and I let her scope the place out. We went to this building that looked like something out of goonies. This small little gloomy auditorium place. With this narrow winding sidewalk that went up it's walls. And when we got to the top I saw these two small columns of chairs at the top with a old old television set at the base of the stairs. We kind of laughed at the randomness of it before I suggested we throw it down the stairs. In this call back to my own history of throwing televisions down long concrete stairs back when I wrote "us". There's this sense of spirituality about it for me. As far as where I was back then when I did it and writing that song and where I felt like I was today. That symbol of feeling like you're connecting with people. That's just what I get out of it. So we propped the tv at the top of the stairwell and she kicked it down. And we kept going and taking all the side trails seeing all of the gloomy houses in the outskirts of the place and the stone gardens and the courtyard that looks like its surrounded by solar panels. And the small room built into the hillside with a chimney that comes out of the ground with concrete bricks where its windows and doors once were.

And me and her.

And I took her onto this walkway that took us out over the river with these short rails at the end. And I set my arms down and she sat next to me facing me. Not facing out to the river. Just looking at me where I would have to have been a total fuckhead to not kiss her then. So I went in to kiss her and she sat still making small moves with her hands and lips. I remember this lyric from Peach where he sang. "At first light you looked so fragile. Felt that if I'd moved I'd break you". She just always has this sense of vulnerability to her. It feels like that anyways. But maybe just cause I feel vulnerable. And I haven't felt like that in a while. Like dating has been this boring no consequence affair cause I just don't care so much lately. I've got so much going on with my life. I'm making all these changes and I have no time to myself. So I felt like with Naomi I don't know if I really cared whether something happened with us or not. But with Danielle, I guess I have my hopes.

We walked to all the corners of the park and I drove her back to her car. And I told her I wanted to see her again and then I kissed her again. And we kissed for five minutes before I reached up to touch her face and neck and for another five minutes before I reach for her hand and felt the tips of her fingers. Remembering the sad break in the Sisters of mercy song "Some kind of stranger" Where Andrew Eldritch sings "All I know for sure, All I know for real. Is knowing doesn't mean so much. When placed against the feeling. The heat inside. When bodies meet. When fingers touch." As the tips of my fingers went down her knuckles and pressed against the tips of hers. Another five minutes of kissing her before I slowly moved my foot off the brake of my car unsure whether I'd put it in park or not. And at the end of twenty minutes I pulled away from her mouth and pressed my forehead to hers and touched her face again. And she looked me in the eyes and said "Alright... I should get going". And I smiled at her and said I'd see her tomorrow. And then I reached in to kiss her again and pulled back and I said "Alright I'm not going to trap you like that again. And she laughed got out, and walked to her car. And she looked at me and smiled again as she pulled out.

And now, being past all the nervousness and forethought and all the energy that a date like that takes. And now that I'm spending the time to look back on tonight do I really realize how epic tonight was. That girl is beautiful. I can't afford to have my hopes. I have no idea how she might've of really felt about me. And I don't know how I'll feel about it a month from now or where I'm going be. But I definitely know I won't forget tonight. Along with everything else, right now, I'm complete.

Oct. 2nd, 2009

(no subject)



My father at his most vulnerable

Sep. 11th, 2009

F.U.C.K. 9/11

I might be the most cynical person I know when it comes to 9/11. But I personally just get a little sick every time I ever see any "We won't forget" signs. Cause at this point it seems like the best thing we could have ever done was looked the other way. Yes, 9/11 was a huge tragedy. But it was not nearly as big a tragedy as how America decided to respond to it. We could have maybe learned alot from it. Gained some insight on life, and took a step back and looked at how we might of got to 9/11 and paid a little bit more attention in the future. Not to mention what a huge opportunity it was to respond to the sympathy that alot of countries we giving us. Instead we alienated everyone. We started wars for absolutely no reason. We killed alot more soldiers in the process. America became more indifferent and more paranoid and more racist. We lost some of our rights and we totally gave them away. The real tragedy there was that America took several steps back to the dark ages. I was absolutely ashamed to be a citizen in 2003. From having neighbors who almost start fights with their neighbors for not be "patriotic" enough. To listening to people say "better their children than our children" when I tried to raise the question as to why the fuck we were going to war in the first place. And all these truck drivers driving around with signs that say "support our troops wherever they go". I'm sorry but just because someone is willing to lay down their lives for some completely non-existent cause like fighting for Iraq's "freedom" doesn't mean I should just act like the whole thing is alright. Especially when those soldiers good intentions end up translating into torturing whoever the fuck they feel like. Or when they get drunk one night and break into the house of an Iraqi family and kill every person in the house so that they can gang rape a sixteen year old girl. Is this seriously the best way we can commemorate the memory of everyone who died on 9/11? Personally if it were me in those buildings or in those planes. I'd have rather died for nothing at all than for all the bullshit that came out of it.

Sep. 7th, 2009

waiting room

When my sister called me a few weeks and said "Dad has a spot on his lungs. I'm really sorry to tell you this but it could be cancer." I said I already knew. And she went quiet for a second and changed her tone of voice and said "Okaaay, why didn't I hear about this from you or anyone else?". I said that Dad wasn't too worried about it, so neither was I.  Which could easily be blamed on both of our obliviousness.

When I talked to my childhood best friend Ty for the first time in almost ten years we talked about everything that happened while we knew each other and caught up on all the times we didn't know each other. Ty who was in town to bury his father. With a thick unshaven beard and an impressive pile of empty beer cans next to the window. My fathers incredible mistake where he had given away his life fortune was discussed. And despite my hatred for money. I still went off about it since its much bigger than money. I called him a fucking asshole. And Ty got in my shit about it. Saying "Hey he's your fucking Dad, man." And I stepped over my insensitivity and we changed the subject.

None of us really wanted to play this up at all. None of us wanted to worry about this spot on my Dad's lung. It seemed like if it was a bit  more inconvienient for us to show up, we might have skipped out. He was going to be alright after all. He wasn't even worried.

And Mark showed up with his kids and I followed 2 year old Dominic around the park with my camera and shot pictures of his throwing pebbles to the swans mistaking it for corn. Then I got back after they drugged my Dad up. They were going to cut him open to test the spot to see if it was cancer after all. And if it was they'd cut out part of his lung. And my mother was in full form yelling at him for smoking...... 40 years ago. And as my dad sat there doped on the table he was sluggishly trying to talk to me. Hardly able to move his hands. I aimed my camera at him while he signed at the camera thinking it was a video camera while I shot pictures of him saying. "My name is Charles and I'm going in for heart surgery". Even though it was lung surgery. It seems he was having a flashback to his heart surgery from two years ago. Concern was becoming more of the pink elephant in the room. How many surgeries has he had in the last 5 years. And despite whatever the doctor tells us. We all know the obvious. His health is failing more and more.

I went to my car and a tweaked kind of trashy hospital employee asked me for a light for her cigarette while standing next to a no smoking sign. I gave her a light and she asked me why I was there. I said my dad was having surgery and that it was on his lungs. And she said "Why the hell are you doing that in this hospital? This hospital is terrible. People die here" She then said "God bless your father" As she left.

So then they said that it is cancer. And he's going to have to stay under the knife a little longer. My mom then said she really needed to go home cause she was worried that someone was going to steal her mail. Lera walked out of the room in anger. And after they told us the surgery was successful but he was still going to be under for a while, we decided we were going to call it a night and go home so we could come back in the morning. I then tagged with Johanna to hang with her to try to wind the night down. And took more and more pictures of her 4 year old son Landon by the bonfire. And when we got back to Johanna's home there was a answering machine full of messages from Lera asking where the hell we were and that she just called the hospital and my deaf father had woke up to an empty room with no one there, unable to talk to the nurses wanting to find out where his family was. And Jo relayed what Lera was saying. That he wanted to see me. He specifically wanted to see me if I could stay the night there with him. And as I got around to leave, Jo left the room to cry.

I had to pick up my Dads things which my mom had decided to take with her for god knows why. And when I walked into her house all she could do was talk about how upset she was and whatever she could to get attention on her and away from my Dad. I got out of there as soon as I could.

I got there at the hospital and stood over my dads bed. He was pale and swollen. And I took another picture of him to finish this series to document what this day was. When he woke up he told me he was glad I was there and as soon as he recovered we were going to go biking. And continue this trend of bonding that we started a few months that we had never done before now. My Dad has become so complicated and so humbled since he lost his money. This insecure man maybe just now realizing how important family is for the first time. Without a clue how he can reach out to us, but not so stubborn and stuck on his pride to not try anyways. He kept trying to hold my hand. I asked him if he was any happier since he lost his money. Thinking that maybe his life might have found some sort of focus since then. He didn't answer, he'd just changed the subject.

The next morning my sisters didn't address the obvious situation that my father had wanted me there and hadn't requested anyone else. Except when Lera brought it up once and all I said was that maybe it was because I was the only one internalizing all my anger to him for everything he's done in the past two years. He feels like shit about it enough.

In a few days we find out if my Dad has to go to chemotherapy or not. And I just want talk to my dad about going biking in the late fall after his recovery. This is the same part of me that can't fathom going through chemo with him. The same part that makes me want to cry and say "You fucking bastard, why did you wait so long to be my father?"

Aug. 9th, 2009

domesticated

I really don't ever want to lose sight of what I'm doing. And everytime my family tells me that now that I'm working towards financial stability, I'm instantly going to want to go off and start a family and become some domestic figure like everyone else. I just can't fucking understand why everyone in the world is so obligated to multiply no matter how much they might fuck their kids up. It's nice to be encouraged. It really is. But I don't know why everyone can't just let other people work towards a lifestyle that fits them.  They always have to try project their own shit into your future. It's a tired argument. I've heard it before. And I wish I had something deeper to go off about in this journal. But nothing real happens anymore. I seem to have an easier time getting along with everyone. I'm getting more confident.

More...... settled.

That word settled. Scares the shit out me. I just want to lose this crippling financial state. Matt was telling me about how he's going to go off to Hong Kong to some worlds fair and fuck all these Asian women. And how he's trying to drag as many cool people like me down there as possible. Matt is almost 50. I want to be just like him when I'm fifty. That guy never ever lost sight of the fact that you are only going to live once. And yet he somehow doesn't have all the insecurities that I'd have if I lived like him. He just doesn't give a shit about it. And that's brilliant.

When all is said and done and I'm out of college and I'm earning three times what I am now. I want music to be there. I want people who inspire me to be there. I want the pictures and the art and the fucking pain that changes me to be intact. I want to see things beautiful and horrific to always shed light on everything people are capable of. I just don't want to lose my desire for things just because it will be easier.

I don't ever want to forget where I came from.

Jul. 28th, 2009

Take it like a man.

So I got transferred back to my old job while awaiting confirmation on my job in Lansing. So I probably won't last a week there. But it's so fitting that I got to go back to that place for a few days before I go off and start over again somewhere else. I forgot how much I fucking hate that job. Let me state that again. I FUCKING (with emphasis) HATE that job. If I somehow lost all my options and was left with the choice of going back to that job for the next few years or doing a tour in Iraq or Afghanistan. I'd do the tour. In a New York minute. I met some cool people there, I will definitely miss Bill. But I look at that place and it is no wonder I haven't written any music in the last two years. I can't think of anywhere more devoid. Everyone there just seems so defeated and without any sort of dreams. All they have are their material possessions to make up for the total lack of color in their working lives. It sounds pretentious and snobbish from me. But it is what it is. It's so American of me to gripe about jobs like this when I'm fortunate to live somewhere where I have some choices at least. But the idea of working in a place where there is such a heaping amount of sexual harassment, work related injuries, and enough monotony for several lifetimes for just a little bit of financial stability. Not to mention that theres no liberals there at all. And no one there knows how to handle a single gay joke.  It's so not worth it to me. I'd hand it over to an unemployed struggling father wrapped in a bowtie if I could. And I'm very grateful to not have a family to entrap me into this job at this point in my life. I'm glad no one else aside from me had to pay the price for my indecision thus far. In a matter of days I'm going to stand at the exit doors of Denso Manufacturing and say "Not one more day of this bullshit."

Jul. 23rd, 2009

(no subject)

Might have just been given a job offer. Which is the most crucial part of my plan to start going to school full time next month. I have to say ever since I decided to do this I really feel better about..... everything. It's probably the first time in the past 5-6 years where I felt like I had control over anything. Like I could just work hard at something and it could actually happen for me.  After so many years of trying to fight my way out of something and then realizing after all that time that I was fighting the wrong fight. I don't think I really realized how terrifying the future always looked to me. But the idea that I could actually get stable and have things like insurance and not have to decide between some piece of highly necessary music equipment and being able to feed myself. Not having family members who worry about me and all that shit. The idea that one day I might actually have job security and be able to go anywhere I want whenever I want. Not working in some sweaty factory where I have to work next to some supervisors whiny spoiled-ass bastard son who constantly tries to talk down on me so he can get over how much everyone hates him. (that's another entry in itself). I actually am starting to feel like a member of the human race. But without feeling like I'm losing anything that's important in my identity. Everything that ever felt beautiful and real to me will still be intact when all is said and done. I think I might actually be okay. There's alot more I can add to that. But it's enough to just say that I'm okay.

Jul. 10th, 2009

it/ll be better tomorrow

Just one of those really really bad days I can't wait to end. I wake up this morning and got on my computer and the second I got online I got a virus that ate my computer alive. I got my photoshop pictures off of it. Probably wasn't any substantial music on there I wanted to save (unless I've forgotten and will remember at a later time) I couldn't access my hard drive cause of this virus I was only able to salvage my photos cause they're on my desktop and don't really know if they might have a virus now too. Spent the entire day on the phone with the IRS trying to get a bunch of forms from them. I went over to my parents to see if I could use their fax machine and my mom was in my face trying to get me to read about a bunch of spinal meningitis articles cause I had it as a child thanks to her unbelievable neglect.

Suddenly when she was talking about it, I had these strange panic attacks. I felt really dizzy like I was going to fall over. So I really tried to get out of there. I didn't manage to make it to Lansing today in the hopes of putting out job applications to a bunch of places I don't want to work but have to seriously find some work in the next few weeks or my prospects of going back to school and getting out of this sick fucking town are seriously fucked. Been trying to get to sleep early tonight to get up early and finish tomorrow what I couldn't finish today. But woke up just an hour ago with serious stomach cramps and I turned on the light to find a nest of ants running around the sill of my front door cause suddenly today they decided to build a city there or something. It's bad enough when I see 2 or 3 there, but there was like 20, 30. So now I'm wide awake and paranoid like I'm going to lay down and have them all over me or something. And I got a call to go back to work which is going to make it much much harder for me for me to find a new job by the time I really need it. Especially when this job is just going to lay me off again anyways like they have the last 4 times in a 2 month period.

Joby won't return my phone calls. Neither will Jenny. I tried calling Steve for the first time in almost 6 months. And a guy answered who sounded exactly like Steve. And I was all excited talking to him cause I seriously missed the guy and I got cut off with "Wrong number, Dumbass". Click. Not like I can think of a reason in the world that Steve would ever cut me off like that. But how can I really know? I've got no other way to get in touch with him. And Ilana has completely abandoned me, out of the fucking blue. This has been confirmed. She gave me a letter telling me to fuck off over situations that I have absolutely no control over. It's her shit. Not mine. But I get to lose another friend over it anyways.

I don't think I'm alone, I really don't. I'm old enough to know what's the truth and what sometimes resembles truth. But I really wish I could call someone right now at 3:30 in the morning. Right now I don't feel like I've got anyone or anything in the world. So it fits to just write this somewhere where no one is going to respond with anything genuine. I just want to sleep and feel like it will be better tomorrow. It's just one day.

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