Category: The Past


The embers of us still burn strong in my dreams.
So my mind rejects sleep and I lay weak in my bed.

The whispers from you seep in through the seems.
Drafts run through the wreckage left in my head.

Flames reignite; Destructive and cruel.
“I won’t last through the night”; I’m love’s fool.

So I toss and I turn and I fight with myself.
There’s no rest to be had. Only a furious fire.

So I give up the fight and reach for the top shelf.
There’s no comfort in this. Only fuel for the pyre.

Old habits don’t die; Finding cracks in which to hide.
So I won’t ask myself why I’m slowly rotting inside.

Little voices point out my choices but they’re not here right now.
My dreams are burning but I’m yearning to be there right now.

The embers of us are now flames engulfing my dreams.
So my mind rejects everything and I lay weak in my bed.

(Written in 2006 in a notepad I used to carry around. Drunkenly forgotten in 2006. Recently discovered in 2011.)

Silence.
Uncomfortable, awkward silence. Years of conversation experience have taught me that an awkward silence is caused by both individuals.
Why is it, then, that I can not sit in the deadly silence without feeling entirely responsible? Why am I suddenly under so much pressure to talk that the only subject that comes to mind is the damned silence itself!?
The situation suddenly becomes one of total amnesia. 25+ years of my life just vanish and leave me with about as much conversational skill as your average armchair (An above-average armchair may show me up with a witty bit of insight or at least discuss the weather).
On their end all I can see is an expectant but bored face.
This is why I don’t date.
Oh great. Now she’s leaving.

Take off your shoes and socks. Roll up your pant legs.
We’ll run through wet fields with laughter on our faces.
We’ll jump over thistles and roll over clovers.
Pants with grass stains and mud on our backs, we’ll tumble together in joyous embrace.
Swimming holes and rope swings are the trophies of the day, where sand will invade spaces between toes.
A dessert of cloud gazing with warm sun à la mode.

When I was a young boy living in the hinterlands of Anderson Valley (Which, if you don’t know, consists of the two small towns of Boonville and Philo), my family owned a beautiful mountain ranch. Not like a cow and horse ranch, but a large part of a mountain with a simple cabin on it. I loved this beautiful piece of land.

There were redwood trees that seemed to go up for miles and had trunks as large as some apartments I’ve lived in. The ground seemed to be consistently red from the bark of these redwoods trees. Secret, fern laden creeks that ran to a river deep within the woods where we’d swim and see birds, deer, rabbits, and other various forms of wildlife parade around us. I’ve followed trails that I’ve never reached the end of, even after a day spent hiking through the woods.

At the base of the mountain, there was an orchard. Now a bare field with two simple apple trees standing far from each other, this was once a place where my family had grown fruit to harvest and live off of generations ago. Even in my generation, my niece, nephew and I used to play there and see dozens of trees. Apples, oranges, pears, cherries, and lemons grew each year offering an easy way to avoid going back up to our parents for food. There was also a 100 year old outhouse down there, but I don’t think we need to get into that horror story.

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A little over 3 years ago, my friend (and then roommate) Scott took up bartending for about one week. It was during this time that he found a tan Fossil watch in the Lost & Found Box, and had decided to keep it. He had brought it home and shown it to me, but said it wasn’t his style. I asked for it but, for a reason I can’t seem to remember, he chose not to give it to me. Instead he simply held on to it.
Several days later, while we were in the company of our tall friend Mike and his girlfriend, (the name of which always fails to come to mind) Scott was once again displaying the watch which he wouldn’t wear but kept on him for some reason, and had it snatched from him by the girlfriend. (Malia? Mal..nourished? God damn, what was her name?)
Over the course of a little less than a year or so, I’d occasionally mention the watch to her and jokingly (but seriously) mentioned that if she wasn’t going to wear the watch or do anything with it, I’d like to have it.
What can I say? I dug the watch.

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