Saturday, December 20, 2008
Cute Girl in a Tracksuit by Eugene and Kevynn
Welcome to 2:15AM in the most anti-climactic town in the world - F********, California.
Where cute girls in tracksuits don't give you the time of day.
Where Guatemalan sisters get pissed off at you for not paying attention.
Where balding middle aged men want to fight you because you got it all figured out.
Where the drinks are moderately priced and strong - that is if you know the bartender
Where collaborations of two blogging giants happen.
Where getting tacos is an adventure you do not want to take.
I really really really wanted to talk to the cute girl in red adidas tracksuit tonight.
She remembered every nuance about me from 4 months ago.
She remembered what I did for a living.
She remembered my name.
She remembered the last time we talked.
She remembered what I know about her.
That kinda stuff just kills me.
That kinda stuff makes me melt on the bar floor.
That kinda stuff makes me tingle.
That kinda stuff makes me love life.
So, I did the only thing that comes naturally to me...
I pretended not to remember her.
She talked to a extra you would have seen on the boobtube.
He was tall and wails a guitar that's not plastic.
I got it all figured out,
Except cute girls in tracksuits.
There Are Always Cute Girls...
But not BEAUTIFUL girls
beauty is you at your most private
turning around to see if anybody else saw what you saw
beauty is you sharing a moment and realizing that you have nobody to take a picture of you in that special place
beauty is me crying last night talking to one of your friends on the phone and seeing a shooting star or maybe a passing satellite and not making a wish because it didn't matter if I did then because if wishes were always granted to the one's that wanted them than wishes are fishes and the world is Nuoc Cham.
Work is work but work is love.
Play is useless and is not as special if I can't extend myself and continue to share joys with other people.
I am a very confused man. And I only say, "Man" because it seems weird to say, "Boy" because I guess that I'm not. But I am. A boy. The same, confused fucker that never loved anything less than what he'd been given or not or never tried to work with what he had. I'm so proud of myself, guys - I really am, but need to remind myself of strengths that I have growing up. I am full of crap and flowers. BUT I AM IN CHARGE OF IT ALL. My life. Your love. My mistakes. My heart. I've killed myself with confusion and with mistakes but wouldn't be me if I hadn't been strong or weak in the past?
Were you there with me in the 24 hour donut shops? Were you there, holding my hand on a cold bench next to me at the elementary schools. Where were you when it rained as i walked the streets? Where were you two years ago? Where were you to protect me? Where were you to squash the cockroaches? The physical, sexual and mental pain? You weren't there - I was. I'm here all of the time.
YOU WERE THE PERSON THAT I KNEW THAT I WANTED AND THOUGHT THAT I DESERVED.
AND YOU'RE HERE NOW.
I am a fucking, large pill hard to swallow. A beautiful boatload of hope and an eyeful of cataracts in your future, you think.
I am Penicillin and an operation that you're unwilling to take to clear the sickness cloudy doubt that obscures the vision and health of your heart.
There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
Friedrich Nietzsche (1844 - 1900), "On Reading and Writing"
I am long-winded. Duh, kids.
I've loved you all.
This was a thing that Eugene and I thought of real quick-like and bored.
I take his prose and turn it into a big, heady bummer. Badly-written but with an intensive purpose.
I am getting better and better - EVERYDAY.
But I still need your help. Why wouldn't I?
Be loving, laughing, be Eugene trying to solve a Rubik's Cube because we talked about how cool it would be to do so. He just dropped it and scratched his head and is now pulling books off of my bookshelf while sitting on my bed.
I need your help, folks. Sorry for putting you off. The heart has always been on and is so heavy, man. So HEAVY.
Thank you. All of you.
I'm not heartless. I don't want to pick fights. I just want to continue to love more and to love you better.
These words don't do anything justice...but they do help.
They really do, you beautiful friend.
You've always opened my eyes.
I love you. And I'll continue to do so. You. Me. All of us.