December 31, 2009

the cleavers.



lately my mind wanders. i have dreams. visions of smiling children running through a house everyday at 5:45pm. excited to see daddy for the first time that day. the little girl wants nothing more than to tell him how she made it to the end of the monkey bars on the playground and to give him the crayon portrait of him. beard and all. the little boy forces his tiny hand into an oversized leather ball glove and asks his hero to play catch with him after dinner. walking into the kitchen he places the crayola art on the refrigerator and deeply inhales the smell of a roast with carrots and potatoes. at the stove she stands. in a dirty apron, hair unkempt and more beautiful than ever. he wraps his arms around her and buries his face into her hair. mmmm... closing his eyes for a brief second imagining heaven. i love you escapes his lips in a whisper as she turns to him. kiss. and at 6pm his day has just begun.

fantasies. dreams. wishes. desires. they keep me company for a short while and are too quickly swept away by reality. the reality of a promise i made to myself to never fall in love ever again. i simply cannot deal with the hurt, pain and frustration.

a girl. she comes around for a short time and disappears. the first time she came back around i felt flattered. a week into it she disappears. ignores me. nine months later she comes around again. in the ten seconds it takes to respond to a text i have already forgotten how she disappeared the first time. two days later, she's gone again. why the hell do i do this? why do i allow her back in? what about that promise i made? why do i turn my back on it so quickly? if she comes back again will i be a fool a third time? i have let go of more important people so why hold on to her? is it because of my visions of aprons and crayon art?




December 12, 2009

tuesday morning

video

December 2, 2009

this is Sparta, MI.



i had received an assignment to work a case that i had done before in Sparta, MI. in perfect conditions the drive one way is 2.5 hrs. so i set my alarm for 7am so i'd be on the road by 7:15am and arrive shortly before 10am.

walking out the front door to my condo i remembered that my assignment said:
Start Time - 9:00am.

...damn

the first 40 minutes of my sojourn were the worst. stop n go on 696. had to stop for gas and walked into the station. heading straight for the 2 hr old pots of coffee i heard a soft voice, "good morning!" i looked over my shoulder and threw out a, "good morning to...... you..." there was no one around. pouring a cup of crazy i began to think i was going coffee. on approaching the counter i found her sitting on the floor behind the register. the attendant that is. young, lively, glasses, pony tail, and a smile. paid for my dark roast and fuel and continued on my way.

i hope Melissa had a nice day... i think she did.

feeling badly about myself for running late i called into headquarters. the start time on the assignment was incorrect. it was supposed to say 10am. i arrive on site at 10am and begin the waiting game. 8 hrs later my waiting is over. yes... i sat in one spot in my truck watching the front door to a house for 8 hrs straight. i think you either have to be SUPER patient for this job, or just straight up coffee. the sky now the color of my dark roast as i begin my trip back home. things were just dandy, until it started to rain and drivers got stupid. why does logic leave when the bad weather comes?

its as if people accidentally turn on the "idiot" while looking for the wipers controls.

decided to call mom. talked about a few important things and got me thinking again. i absolutely love my mom and do not blame the following on her whatsoever.

a phrase i've been hearing a lot lately. well, maybe its not that i hear it more than usual but just that i've been noticing it even more lately. "i live life with no regrets." if you don't regret anything you've ever done then you must be a perfect human being putting Mother Teresa to shame. either that or you are one of those spoiled brats on Mtv's "Sweet Sixteen" who think their poop should have its own rolls royce for smelling so good. if you have a soul, you have regrets. if you have any feelings at all, you have regrets. if you are human, you should have at least one moment where you should have reacted, acted, decided, or said something different.

regrets are like an arranged marriage,
you didn't want them but they are here to stay
and you have to learn to live with them.

i have several things i regret. not trivial things like, "man, i really regret getting extra beans in my burrito!" i mean with big things. regrets have been the fulcrum of my frequent frustration. "mike, are you still there?" mom asked over the phone, because i had suddenly become very sad again and hadn't said anything for a while. i quickly ended the conversation. where is the line that separates "do better next time" from "the damage is done, you're screwed"? i have a hard time knowing how to organize my regrets into the "lesson learned" bin and have a surplus of "lesson over" bins.

my regrets haunt me like the monster under my bed.


putting it out there...



i must write about the last half of this "less than epic" day.

my mother has been using a lot of text messaging lately. weird at first but totally cool now. even if she sends me "can you stop by sometime tongue or tomorrow?" T9 can be skittish sometimes... proof-reading is a good friend. anyways, she sent me a text that a co-worker of hers named Liz is hosting an open mic night at the Wellington Pub in Troy, and that Breach should stop in and jam. i asked the boys and we decided to go. dom came to the condo to burn an hour before heading over there.

i always enjoy our conversations.
im not sure he understands how much they mean to me.
there is a reason we have been very close friends for 7 or 8 years.

we got to the pub and gave a round of greetings to liz and her band before claiming our seats at the bar. liz and her guitarist played several songs and offered for us to do a few. we waited till mike showed up and decided to jump into the "music go round". "josie's on a vacation far away...." "damn, this is high" i thought to myself. "come around and talk it over.." "yes... high indeed" again to myself. the guitar was in standard tuning, while my voice had been chilling in the basement of my register all day.

Journey's "any way you want it" for song #2? why not.

people enjoyed our music and for that short moment... while lost in the songs, i was happy.

December 1, 2009

off the record.. on the floor


i got up for work at 7:30. drove 2.25 hrs to my case. grabbed my video camera to take an opening shot and the battery was off of it. replaced battery, and had to reset all the settings on the camera since it resets when the battery is removed. popped in a tape to take opening shot and got a flashing error from cam that my video head is dirty. used cleaning tape #1... didn't work. used cleaning tape #2... didn't work. drove to CVS to get new cleaner. didn't have it. drove to wal-mart. no good. drove to a radio shack... that didn't exist. ended up using both tapes and ran them both all the way through. somehow it worked. (which is bad for the camera, so says the instructions on the tapes) drove back to my case. missed my subject arriving at his location. . . . . then i waited. . . . . subject exits and walks to an area where i have no way to pick him up. spot check his address, no good. check a second address... no good. finally get a good address and there is no place to sit and watch and wait. break off and drive 2.25 hrs home.

i want to nap, but cannot.

some time tonight, i have to take my shitty amount of shitty video to the office and write up notes about it. planning on meeting up with mike and dom to sit in on a few songs at open mic at Wellington Pub in Troy. we'll see what happens.

i have to drive my ass out to Sparta tomorrow (another 2.5 hrs away)
and hopefully follow the right person around for 8hrs.


i look forward to my next date with the corner table at Starbucks.

November 30, 2009

can you hear me?

i didn't have to work today. in fact work has been tremendously slow lately. not just because of thanksgiving, but because there isn't any work. seems like it's feast or famine with this company and the feasts are more like a dinner at olive garden with free breadsticks. or a buffet line filled with carrots. i like carrots, but not all you can eat carrots. the famine, however is more like a drought where the money trees whither and die and you have to replant them all over again next season. im currently looking for a different job. who knows what will come along, but as long as i get more hours i'll be happy.

days like today are the worst. waiting for the day's end inside these steel bars that are my thoughts. when its finally time for bed you can't sleep. so you just lie there wrapped up like a burrito hoping your brain gives out.

i have to drive 2 1/2 hrs to work tomorrow. im afraid of the alone time i'll have to spend in my truck. lately i've been driving around without the radio on. the silence is like going on a trip with someone you haven't talked to in a long time, and the last time you spoke was an argument. just the fact that you are in the same vehicle is a miracle, but you'd do anything to break the tension. at least i'll have my thoughts, right? like a road trip with that person you don't give a shit about but wont shut up. i have no doubt that i will not find joy in my job tomorrow. things will go badly and i'll hate the fact that i even woke up at all. eh... fuck it.


"Another Lonely Day" - ben harper

Yes indeed, I'm alone again.
And here comes emptiness crashing in.
It's either love or hate,
I can't find in between,
'cause I've been with witches and I've been with a queen.

It wouldn't have worked out anyway.
So now it's just another lonely day.
Further along we just may.
But for now it's just another lonely day.

January 25, 2009

the gift - a continuing story


i was awakened by the sound of rustling in the outside through my pane. my eyes, determined not to open, struggle to keep light out. disoriented, i win the battle with the curtains just in time for my eyes to make out forms. the black-hole i was starring into was just dark enough to make out the four figures. these figures were darker than anything i'd ever seen before. so dark that it seemed as though if there were a source of illumination nearby, it would have been swallowed up by these figures.  the four figures moved quickly, so fast the naked eye could never pin them down.  by this time i had collected my wits and crept toward the door. gently pressing my ear tightly against it i could hear whispers.  just audible enough to make out what was being spoken; however the language was not recognizable. silence came quickly. and i soon decided to enter the outside. my trembling arm extending outward toward the door. my hand clenched tightly around the handle, white knuckles, sweaty palms. the door mechanism had never sounded so intimidating.  the hinges wailed as i eased the massive door open just enough to peer outside.  once assured that the figures had all dispersed, i slowly opened the door and stepped into the outside.  though my eyes had adjusted minutes ago they struggled to fixate on objects in the outside world.  it was as if i could only visually perceive things that i had been familiar with on the inside.  in my little box of walls that i had filled with memories and regrets.  as i started to walk forward i stumbled over something.....

January 21, 2009

my life story


i had a dream that i wrote a book about the story of my life.  took years to finish, maybe because i don't consider myself much of an author.  the front cover of the book is amazing.  it is wooden with millions of tiny intricate carvings that intertwine in and out of each other.  while looking at it up close you can appreciate its details, and yet when you look at it from afar it paints a picture of a tree within all four seasons of the year.  the corners of the cover are plated with brass and the clasp on the edge is engraved ever so delicately.  i was so intrigued by the appearance of the exterior i almost forgot to even read it.  i flipped up the clasp and slowly began to open the book.  i couldn't help but be amazed as i thumbed through page after page.  they were empty.  every single page was blank.  no preface, no chapters, not even a single picture.  confused, i continued to check every page right to the end.  disgusted, i flipped over the back of the book and my mouth dropped.  the image carved into the wooden cover was almost exactly like the one found on the front, however the tree was on fire.  the beautiful seasons depicted on the front were replaced with flames and smoke, the flowers replaced with ash, the birds with embers.  dropping to my knees, my eyes poured, drenching the pages with salty tears.

January 18, 2009

have you seen me lately


here i am, sitting in my small condo; alone. the blinds in the southern-most window raised just enough to reveal the frigid outside. the sun had disappeared about an hour ago and huge snowflakes were falling like elephants tied to anchors. through my bookshelf speaker flows an ominous organ chord layered with the jingling notes from a telecaster. the past month or so i have sunk into this 'counting crows' moment. not because i met a guy named mr. jones or because it was a long december with january close behind, no no.. its because of the high i get from the comparison of the lyrics and my life.

i've got a bookshelf filled with my autobiographies and yet i've never read them. a few are painted with photos that i've never seen, and the pages are out of order. atop of my bookshelf sits a bonsai tree that i never got to know. i water it everyday and scold it for growing bigger. there is a candle i bought because i thought it smelled amazing. but once lit, its that much closer to no longer having a purpose.  i looked into the mirror this morning, leaning forward to get a better view of the stranger i saw. it was me, looking at me. how long have i been gone? how long have i been asleep? this dizzy life is a dreamers delight, where nightmares take flight, and wrong becomes right. the pillow held under my thoughts as i wondered what wakes me. running down streets, with pavement pounding feet, arms held out to reach for things that can't save me.