What...

would you miss

about all of this

after you've died?

Memoirs of a "Latch-Key" Kid 1984-2014

How many years is that? I can't even do the math though it's right on top of my head, or at least in the heading right on top of the what I'm writing's heads head.

I didn't hyphenate, I usually do - but sometimes when I hyphenate, it makes me hyperventilate...so...I...use...da ellipses......instead......

There's a tablet to my left. It's making me not write right now. If I could stop the Home Depot commercial - I could write about it forever. It wasn't necessarily bad. Most of you wouldn't even notice how bad it was. It easier to share in real life. I will write and maybe it will come back again. Fuck. I'm playing stuff on the tablet via Hulu Plus. You, know? The thing that I pay for for more content and less ads? you know. The thing that I'm writing about right now? I shouldn't be doing this right now. I should be smarter, writing about smart things.

..........waiting for the Home Depot commercial.......ellipsesssssss

still not here

Listen To Books. Read Music. See Feelings. Hear HERE.

I'm clearing my throat.

For whatever I'm about to write/say, apparently.

I'm here. Still here. Writing stuff.

Sometimes that's enough.

HERE.

Knuckles dug/deep/burrowing into my eyes.

Wiping away the crust of days gone past, every night. Everything.

Here are my ears opened.

My head starting to turn.

Creaking sometimes. Sometimes snapping quickly left to right.

Like old parts in a factory that work best with age.
Like new parts that need to be broken in.

My eyes have seen enough but...I'm a baby. I'm a newborn fucking baby.
Every blink of mine is a lifetime, wanted/used/wasted.

I think that I'm at the toddler's stage now.

My teenage years are going to be a shit show.

GET READY.

Get ready FOR WHAT COMES AFTER THAT.

So...

You came home stoned from watching sporadic meteors and appreciating their presence.

I've been hand-feeding a stray kitty for hours tonight but really in the last month, in the hope that it stays in my backyard so that it doesn't get eaten by the coyotes that have been hanging out with me in MY FRONT YARD recently.

Apparently, homeless kitties are like Kryptonite to you, you space cadets.

For shame. Before you look up, Josue and Jen - you've got to look down. Meow.

Before you look up?

MEOW IS ON THE GROUND.

Your reaction to a homeless kitty was gross.

I'm elevated and looking down on you.

Meow.

I hope homeless kitty wakes you up when you sleep tonight.

A cosmic, saber-toothed, fucking tiger that bites you deep in your hypocritical heart.

Her name is 

The Dreams Were So Vivid, So Haunting, SO REAL...

and then I woke up.

Like, a million times.

I chose not to work today.

I didn't want to.

So, I didn't.

I'm not spoiled.
I work hard and put up with a lot of shit.
I work hard and revel in an overabundance of beauty.
I love it, but...

I chose not to work today.

I didn't want to.

I saw a movie.
I ate crap food.
I went for a drive.
I drove so much that I almost ran out of gas.
I got gas.
I went to the grocery store.
I bought firewood, curry powder, a lottery ticket, TIME Magazine, a lemon, paper towels, orange juice, toilet paper and a packet of blue ink disposable pens.

The movie that I watched was still orbiting around in my head.
I got a text from a friend.
He wasn't doing well/not doing well.
I came home in five minutes.
We talked.
I made a fire.
We talked longer.
and longer...

I chose not to work today.

I'm glad.

My work, my play, does not define my life.

MY LIFE is defined by YOU.

You come to me.
You guys always do.

I'm okay with that.

YOU make MY LIFE BETTER.

By a million times.

and then I fall asleep.

Art by JOCK

I miss every single one of you.
And when I don't think of you.
I don't miss you at all.

All Together. In A Room.

Rocky Balboa

Peter Quill

Strunk and White

Henry Chinaski

Sailor Ripley

Richard Hawley

Hemingway

And James Nachtwey

Ahab

The Old Man

Nemo

And James Cameron

Sorry. It’s late.

Sleep well...

Come back from your trip and trip on what you came back to.

EYE

erased everything that ive written on this
and now im writing this
with no capitalization
or punctuation in this

the 2 things that i wrote before this - i had to save
i had to wrap my head around what i was saying
or TRYING to say

so i saved it
i saved it
it saved itself so
that i can
write more on it

it will be much more
much more than this
because i what i hover over is
not THIS
but the things that i think
the things that you miss

and sometimes what i save
is sososo
much better than this

so i save it

I want to fist bump you with (SNIKT!) extracted Wolverine claws or fist bump you with Incredible Hulk Hands.

the worst thing that i could do is be with you
the worst thing that i could do is start golfing
the worst decision that i could make is to not be with you
the best decision ever that i could make is to continue to not golf

Part of my other job is writing shit like this...

***** ******* Interview Questions

Let’s talk shoes.

Give me old school or current celebrity crushes, and why?

If you were going to be a TV show – what would it be?

A movie that you wish that you played a part in?

Fashion mistakes?

Last best meal that you just had?

Song in your head right now.

Underrated band.

Overrated band.

Last book that you read.

You get one week for a vacation in The United States – vacation.

International, Where?

Why are you going to Hell?

Why are you going to Heaven?

What do you do well?

ADD?

Describe yourself in High School?

Do you do your own laundry?

I’m eating almonds and am going to open up a bottle of champagne while I write this. It just started to rain. I just opened up the bottle of champagne. How does this make you feel?

If you had one thing to carry in your pocket for all time. Only this one thing. Not a wallet or a cell phone or keys – what would it be?

Catcher In The Rye?

What teen-idol are you?

Frank Sinatra/Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis

Last person that hung up on you?

How do you know me?

One word about you.

Two words.

Your epitaph?

You wind down at home after a lot of work – what’s that like?

What do you love about what you do?

Three best friends. Explain. Why?

If you would dress me right now – like, you’re my fashion guy – what am I doing right? What am I doing wrong? Do you want to trade clothes?

One book to carry with you to take on a desert island. One book that you’ve always wanted to burn.

TV, magazines or movies always. WHY?

Buying a girl something very expensive. What would it be?

Innocent or diabolical?

Phone or texting?

What’s a gentleman?

What’s a lady?

What’s fatherhood like?

Last vacation?

Aims?

How well would you fare in a zombie apocalypse?

If the 13 year-old you would tell you now something now – what would he say?

Star Wars?

If you were a political figure from the past or the present?

What bugs you?

If you could ask one question to you, twenty years from now – what would you say?

Favorite movie. Not Scarface.

Getting tired. Time for sleep….

I was going to write something EPIC

but i just started sneezing

Walking around in my backyard...

Looking up at the chemtrail Kanjii in the sky.

Time's passing.
You are too.
All of you.
In and out, back and forth.
Sometimes here for a while.
Sometimes never to be heard from again.
I'm still here.

I think.

Every Night For Years. Written By Kevin Malone. Filmed by Evan Schiefelbine.

About 3 years ago I bought this Tomaso Albinoni record that skipped on a five count halfway through a song. I liked the idea of something that looped...organically?

So I'd been wanting to use it for a couple years but couldn't find the right place for it. So I had this lil' idea that I put together as an experiment of sorts to explore the repetition in skateboarding - trying the same thing over and over and over...and how that relates to some things....

--- Evan Schiefelbine

All we ever heard was the same record playing over and over again. Was it the little old lady who played it or the rarely-seen, dumpy-looking son? Every night, exactly at 8:30. A skip in-between to flip the record over and then the music continued. Every night for years.

One night, there was no music. We checked our watches, glanced up at our clocks. The neighborhood slowly trickled out into the street. Murmurs, whispers, nervous glances. Why wasn’t the music playing? The front door opened. The dumpy-looking son walked out, wiped his eyes, shut the door quietly and shuffled down the street.

We never saw him or heard that record again.

--- Kevin Malone

Fat Free Milk A

Another day or
Another year
Another beat of the heart is 
A-Okay
A bad relationship
A working relationship
An unfathomably-hard-to-believe-how-good-it-is relationship
A certain amount of
Ak-ruh-moh-nee-uhs NESS makes sense
And I hope to continue to make more sense of this nonsense before my
Absence...
...
..
.

noAymanhhDUHbiekirno

“I will not try to convince you to love me, to respect me, to commit to me. I deserve better than that; I AM BETTER THAN THAT...Goodbye.” 

― Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

THE HOUSE DOWN THE STREET - - -

All we ever heard was the same record playing over and over again. Was it the little old lady who played it or the rarely-seen, dumpy-looking son? Every night, exactly at 8:30. A skip in-between to flip the record over and then the music continued. Every night for years.

One night, there was no music. We checked our watches, glanced up at our clocks. The neighborhood slowly trickled out into the street. Murmurs, whispers, nervous glances. Why wasn’t the music playing? The front door opened. The dumpy-looking son walked out, wiped his eyes, shut the door quietly and shuffled down the street.

We never saw him or heard that record again.

DIPS - - -

Fall. Stumble. Run. Walk. Crawl. Skip. Hop. Jump. Fast. Slow. Stand. Sit. Stop. Go. Through life’s Up and Downs.

BUDDHA WALKS INTO A BAR - - -

HEYHOWYA’DOIN’CANIGETCHASUMTHIN’?

Buddha remained silent.

WHADYAWANTAJACKANDCOKEMAYBEABEER?

Buddha closed his eyes.

C’MONYAJACKASSENLIGHTENME!

TIMEOUT - - -

My Mother ended up getting very old. Retirement homes are expensive. Locks are not.