Archive for December 2009
These dirty headlights taunt the pavement in a kaleidoscope of rusty symmetry and double-tone white. I half-heartedly reach for the brake pedal, but come up short on purpose. It seems to have disappeared among the carpet fibers anyway, leaving me no choice beyond the gas. Of course I punch it. And why the fuck not? My toes tense up with fury and intangible amounts of adrenaline. A caged animal stuck somewhere between adventure and panic. The rush is indescribable. I launch forward now, my head pinned against the defenseless headrest. No need for ambition on this trip, the speedometer’s fully equipped. The ride is rough, yet rough is mind-blowing at this point. Sexual innuendos have me pressing play on my funny bones tonight, an array of “ha’s” and “he’s” escaping in self-satisfying secrecy. Feels good to lack restriction. Puts me in an open ball-pit that sets fire to free spirit and settles for nothing less. Take that, Mr. Responsibility. I don’t need you anymore. I’ve got it all right here. Flying solo again, minus the fancy wings and fears of failure.
Earlier today, some of my good friends and I were watching TV and chowing down on a bag of yer guyses amazing Mauna Loa Kisses (the ones with the macadamia nuts). I seriously love these things. Like, you have no idea. If Jesus had to suddenly morph into chocolate form, he’d be one of these, hands down. You know how when you see something sour and yer brain automatically starts making extra saliva to compensate for that sour, even before putting it in yer mouth? That’s what mine does, except for the “sour” part is replaced by an overwhelming “omg, there’s that Jesus chocolate again!” part.
Anyways, we got about halfway down the bag and I noticed I was coming across more and more ‘nutless kisses’. Once I realized what was happening, I began to slowly die a little on the inside. Those nuts are like the ying to my yang, man. The headphones to the Ipod, water to the vitamins. Take them out of the mix and it’s like trying to draw sky without the blue crayon.
I ended up finding eleven out of the thirty kisses that we ate to be minus their nuts. I secretly fought back tears of disappointment looking at the empty blue wrappers littering the table. “Are you crying?” My friend asked me this in a wave of confusion as I stood up quickly. I managed to answer her in brief stutters and half sentences followed by a muffled, “I’ll be right back.” I immediately made a mad dash for the bathroom and haven’t come out since. I’m currently huddled in the bathtub, writing this as you read it, shaken and still in shock from my current candy condition. I ask you this now, in regards to future Mauna Loa lovers and dedicated Hershey’s fans like myself. Please don’t skimp out on the macadamians this year. They complete me.
Happy Holidays To You And Yers,
She anticipates uncertainty on the water’s edge,
Torn down but not yet apart.
Reflections glitter insanity as he lets down his guard,
“Truth be told my dear, I’m only just another boy.”
Dividing love from lust and curiosity from fear.
“Judge me if you must, but I’ve already lost my battle.”
A means to an end, a diddle to a daddle.
Man, Spokane is such a pretty city at night. I suppose not internally, but more of an external beauty. Like when yer heading down the Sunset Hill and you get that view of the whoooole city and all those lights and all those colors. And then you get to that flat freeway stretch again, right past the off-ramp for Lincoln Street and you look to yer left and yer pretty much driving parallel to the 6th floor of all the buildings. Where, if you veered a quickie left, you’d end up a roof ornament on top of the Conoco gas station. Dude, where else in Washington (I guess besides Seattle) can you get that? No where. Amen Spokane.
This fat crazy lady with rags for clothes and long greasy black hair is walking down the street gripping tight an unsharpened pencil. She hobbles up to this random business guy in a suit and says to him through grit teeth and one eye closed, pointing up at the pencil, “Yu got a knife???” He responds after doing four or five double-takes of what’s standing in front of him and says, “Are you fuckin’ high?”
Once upon a time black was blue.
Numb thumb, knuckles throbbing.
Palindromes of high heels and closets of Monte Cristo.
Writing page after page of premature nonsense.
Stargazing between asterisks paneling the pressures to tailgate yer fears.
I’m trying to see past this, I really am.
Greet me in the positive vibe, please.
Kicking back stress and nausea.
A casual me; high.
Cloudy eyelashes breathe complexity.
Tracking down silver tipped pinecones and rotten bee hives.
The lack of weaponry proves unnecessary in the harvest for helicopter blades.
Like, what if finger food was hand supper all along?
Crazier than armless ventriloquists with no vocal chords.
Keeko left for Seattle today. Goddamnit. Why do important people always hafta leave in my life? It really sucks. I’m gonna miss her so fucking much. We’ve made so many memories together. Oh man, oh man. I think if I keep writing on about this, the paper may get a little soggy and form a few unwanted wrinkles. But I guess Keeko starting her life inspires me to start mine. Which is always a good thing. Fuck I wish God would just create friend eras. And then let me freeze time in a certain era of my choice. I’d choose the one I’m in right now, no question.
So the other day, I came to the conclusion that I never want to grow up. Or I guess growing up is cool, but just not growing old. It’s a stupid conclusion though, because of course it’ll never happen. Just my happy-go-lucky-kid side talking again. Damn you, youth.