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PA: Blog-City // 05

March 5th – Heartspeak
Always speak your heart, sometimes- speak your mind, if necessary, use words.

Evidently this ordeal is stacking up to be a little less than productive. There’s little point in trying to speak with the dead unless you’re a medium. And I gave that kind of thing up long ago.

There are some who are under the illusion that I am trying to make some kind of a point. To you I say, get over yourselves. I’m not doing this for or because of you. I’m doing this for me. To save myself a lot of uneccessary crap. This is not a pride issue, this is not me seeing how long I can arrogantly hold out and not speak while you all roll your eyes and snicker at my immaturity. This is an issue of disgust. I’m exhausted with speaking, with explanation, with mindless, needless conversation. Jess? You and I have great conversations, they’re not mindless, they’re not needless, they make very little sense sometimes but they lift spirits… That is the kind of speech I will keep. Elsewhere there is little talk of this nature left in this world. Much less local surroundings. There are also some who believe that I have a fetish involving pain. There are actually thos who believe that I like it when people hate me. They believe that I do what I’ve done because I enjoy the idea of being guilty of crime, and deserving of hate. … Wow. That is almost the most stupid and incoherent assumption I have ever heard in my life. Almost… I’d love to have a perfect life. I’m not accustomed to people hating me and I don’t enjoy it. That’s absurd. Not because I’m selfish, or snobbish or think that people shouldn’t hate me. I’ll accept whatever judgement another human being has against me. I know that there is a reason that that judgement, intentional or not, has been made. 90% of the time I know that reason full and well. Great. So crawl all over my back because for every single time its happened, I don’t whine about it. Go ahead and assume that since every time someone blames something on me and I don’t fight it, that I must enjoy it. Go ahead and believe that I love pain, I obviously must because every time something like this happens, I never retaliated, except once… And now that I finally have. Its too much for everyone, and I must be crazy. And I must love being blamed… Take a sanity pill, sit down, think about the words coming out of your mouth, and then shut up.

There was once a girl named Alyssa who told me in a letter that she wanted to see me angry, my ‘angry side.’ She said that after I told her that it takes a heck of a lot to get me angry. A true statement. An understatement. She said she wanted to see that side of me because it was a part of me. And she wanted to know every part, not just the peaceful side. Congratulations. You finally pulled it off. Wasn’t quite the enlightening experience you were looking for was it? For a small period, just a matter of hours. I was angry. I became very, very angry. And I did in fact retaliate. I posted something that should have sat unmentioned. I should have let it, like everything else that ever happened between us, go, without a second thought. But I was… mad. I took the object of my anger and I threw it into public view. A few hours later, when I calmed down. I realized the potential that this thing could pose. Realized that I didn’t want that. All I wanted was out. Hours after having gone up, the post went down. Too late though… thirty five hits and no going back, my little explosion had already blown its supply of shrapnel. I regret it okay? I regret it… For once in my life, out of everything that has happened in the last two years… I act on anger, and everyone freaks out. Look in the freaking mirror. That means all of you. Every last one of you. Ogle… you especially. Your temper is out of control.

Honesty blows doesn’t it? Brutally honest, otherwise known as a lack of tact? Yeah, we’ll call it that. Dang this feels like rain… Its been a while since I ranted. Its been a while since I surrendered myself to utter disgust. such a thing prompting such a slew of… emotion. People say they like it back when I pretended to be a decent human being. Yeah, that was before I let emotion control me. Did I love? Yeah, I did. And you know, it was beautiful, its the most beutiful thing on earth. But even that, even that I never allowed to control me in any direction that I didn’t feel was appropriate. That saved so much pain and heartache I can’t even begin to count the times… screw it. “What are you thinking?” they all scream. “Why would you do this?” One: get this straight. None of us are without fault. As far as I know, I’m the only one that bothers to admit these things. Which makes me the bad guy. Two: That had nothing to do with what I was thinking. I merely felt it. And in a mindless anger I- yes, did a thing I wish I could erase. Three: I really have less of a problem with some people than I do others. Take Richard for example. I respect the guy greatly, probably more than most of the people wrapped up in this great big ball of crap. He carries himself through all of this with a silent dignity and a self-respect and an honest effort at keeping everything contained and peaceful. I respect him a great deal for that. An incredible amount… There are others however for which I have lost a great deal of respect, and a great deal of concern. Alyssa. I knew someone once named Alyssa. Wow, I loved her. When she died. Yeah, it killed me. And I finally realized that I could relate to her mother. What a hellish mindblowing revelation it must have been to realize that her daughter was an entirely new person, and that the old one, that one that existed before, was forever gone. I don’t know who this new person is. I honestly have very little desire to get to know her.

I’ve apparently been hanging out with quite the ‘wrong crowd’ as a stodgy adult would say. I get it now. Peer pressure… people changing each other, changes in one person make changes in everyone they know which changes everyone that they know. Its pretty much unavoidable. So I’m severing a lot of ties. Dismantling a lot of worlds… Dying… to a lot of people. Why don’t I speak? I don’t want to get to know anyone that I thought I knew before. I don’t want to be a part of that crowd, that world, that… change. I don’t want it. To all of you… goodbye.

March 10^th – Revelation

As of now, I am permanently dismantling this blog.

Pa: Blog-City // 05

March 4^th – Confucius Say: “Owned”
“A liar is not believed even though he tells the truth.”

Its quiet… not too quiet though. Peaceful actually. Strange things have been happening since I chose to partake a vow of… Since I decided to just altogether SHUT THE HECK UP. I hear everything I would have said in my mind. But there is no sound, so sometimes I laugh at my own jokes. I may bounce to the song I’m no longer singing. I may be prone to staring off into space…
Not speaking offers a great deal of extra thought. Every time you would have said something and didn’t, you wonder why you would have said it, and what the reaction would have been. Just subconsciously. Mr. Craft was walking beside me and asked why I hadn’t spoken. He said he could hear the gears turning in my head, that he knew I was thinking. There’s a good reason, I’ll keep my mouth shut effectively proving that I do think competent thought. Yay.
There will be times of course where I will speak, and people that I will speak to. Only when absolutely necessary. If yesterday was any example, I can get by without opening my mouth. There will be the exception surely. I will not snub the officer when he pulls me over for the fourth time because there’s an convict driving around in a car similar to mine. I will speak when absolutely needed. But there are some people I want to personally assure, have heard the sound of my voice for the last time. The end. This blog will remain operational if anyone actually wanted to know what I ever had to say in the first place. Goodbye.

“Therefore be quick to listen and slow to speak…”

PA: Blog-City // 05

March 1^st – Two step process, Ten steps back
As I figure it, there are seemingly only two real ways of going about it. Writing that is. On this blog. There’s the easy way of course. Easy for me at least. I could just spit everything that naturally occurs to me out of my head and basically gut through an explanation in the typical fumbling yet chiseled cryptology of meaning that I have become very adept at producing. Using long and deep philisophical prose to convey the innermost parts of me and what I learned and how I learned it and what I imagine I should do with what I’ve learned… Then of course, following that, there’s the simple straightforward no nonsense sugarfree version. Whereas the former is like a 90 minute debate used to win over an argument, the latter is a shotgun.

So… Ryan Boyer has a mole living in his yard. Apparently the subterranean rodent has been tunnelling for the better part of the rising spring. The word is that he saw two of them the other day, news upon which hearing I promptly did my friend’s duty and informed him- “Two is an infestation. It was winter, they’ve been down there, under the ground with nothing else to do and so they’re mating. By the middle of April your lawn will be hopelessly pockmarked with tiny little burrows and you’ll be absolutely swarming with the things.”
“Don’t they make little traps and stuff for that sort of thing?”
“Ineffective. Totally ineffective.” I assured him. “Best to try your luck with common household items.” Upon saying that, Ryan and I became quiet and mutually stared off into a thoughtful void of space. In my mind, I saw the little guy crouched sardonically over a molehill with a ball peen hammer raised high above his head.
“I’m not playing whack-a-mole with my own yard.” He stated defiantly.
“Oh?” I nettled. “What then will you do?”
“Shotgun.” He shrugged.

A while back I made a list in a certain little black book. I suppose the black books will have to be the first of a few things that need explaining. … Yeah we’ll get to that later. Anyhow, this is a list of ten things that in a flurry of younglife crisising, I decided that I wanted to do before I got to be an old uptight fart who thought to much of himself to do them (either that or didn’t have the health to…) It was all very illuminating and peaceful at the time. Now… having fulfilled five of the ten- I find it just plain fun. ^_^ Made the list last year and a few months ago:

1. Crowd-Surf
2. Go Trick-or-Treating (honestly, until last Halloween, I had never done this. Score one!)
3. Go into Victoria’s Secret (what a daring young man we are! Tut tut!)
4. Knock a guy out. (Yeah… the primal male instict that resides within me has always wanted to do this. All the women slap me now…)
5. Do a backflip.
6. Learn to prepare one fancy meal perfectly.
7. Tell an old woman she’s beautiful. (Wait, who are you calling a perv?)
8. Sing on my knees to someone. (Romantically of course. What song it will be… heck if I know.)
9. Stand up for everything.
10. Learn to dance again.

Ah… me and my useless ambitions. Somehow, I’ve noticed that doing these things is reminiscent of the senseless joy of when I was younger, and its like an escape from all the.. well everything that’s been happening around here lately. And it feels… good. Like returning to some sort of childhood innocence. The whole process is about change. Change of.. me. I’ve created so many worlds that just need to be dismantled. This spring I feel that taste in the air, the memories of a decades worth of summers flood back into my thoughts and I smile… I’m going to return there. To something better. Its not all about progress you know. Sometimes, contrary to popular belief, progress can be a bad thing, depending on what is progressing. And you can have too much of a good thing. Depending on who you love… Hm… I’m taking a step back. Well… ten steps actually. Can’t wait to fill in the rest of the list. Just wait till you hear about Privilege and the Order of Worlds. The monsterbox is closing! Ah… something, even in the middle of all of this calamity, is finally going right. ^_^

March 4^th – And then there was Silence
This is an official announcement. As of now, apart from competition, apart from this blog, and apart from a few select people, I renounce my voice. I am discontinuing my ability to speak. Speaking gets everyone into trouble. Growing up, my parents always emphasized communication, said it would save a relationship. It can also destroy them… And often does. More so than it ever saves. It both begins with communication, and ends with communication. I have spoken with too many voices that tell too many lies. And I’m done communicating. I’ve got a lot to consider recently and I’ve got a lot to account for sure. As of this message, you have heard the last time I open my mouth to explain myself or anything to anyone. Its over. I’m out. I’m returning now to the place I once was. To the place that I hated before, but was safer. I’m going to crawl back inside my little glass box and have a seat. And I’ll continue to watch from within, and listen to the dull thumping of the outside world. And never speak.

I’m rebuilding the wall.

PA: Blog-City // 05

February 23^rd – The Knife of Redemption
Due to certain recent events- this blog may be out of operation for a while. Not too long really. I just need to clear my head. Hm. Funny how when you’re typing no one can hear the shaking in your voice isn’t it?

February 28^th – Okay here’s the Deal
unoriginal :: At least… everything is made right. Finally, at long exhausted last, everyone gets what they deserve. She gets him, he gets her, I get… well I don’t really get but that’s the way its supposed to be. And Ashley and Chris get each other. (Dang, if two people ever deserved each other, its them.) Nothing against either of them of course. And apparently… my good friend Ogle gets Miller. (And that’s not a brewery mind you…)

Its been one hell of a year. And I’m back. I swear if one more thing happens this year I’m going to explode. Aye… I think I’m going to move to Australia, move there permanently. Either that or go into Special Forces military and blow myself up for the good of this Godforsaken country of mine. I’ve really performed a number this year haven’t I? The first seventeen years of my life were like- “Yeah… this is okay.” And then I turn 18 and all of a sudden everything is like- “WTF!? WTF!? WTF!?” every other day of the week. Not normal. The raw amount of hellish reverberation for my senior experience… and hey- it was all my fault. I know that. Don’t think that I’m lying to myself… I got over doing that a long time ago. I’m back.

I even made an octuple stuffed Oreo sandwich two nights ago. Though I don’t have a picture of it. I seem to have misplaced my camera. I’ve had to find other ways to occupy myself you see. I get a good two hours of free time in a day now. Which is three hours more than I’m used to getting. Wrestling ended, and I’ve ended up cutting major ties with nearly every commitment to which my existence extended. So now… I don’t know. I used to just naturally understand what to do with this time. Recently… I’ve spent a great deal of it in thought. I’ve thought a lot about people. A lot about me. And a lot about… well everything. This year even in its premature closure, has left me with a feeling of floating, like we’ve all just passed through a torrent of fire and all of us… burned, and are now standing beneath the rain, knowing far more than any one of us ever even imagined before. Wiser, and infinitely stronger, and the world seems somehow less formidable. Yet… still untamed. These thoughts, breaking through my head… I think I’ll write them down. After all, it would give me something to do in the spare time.

So I’m just standing here. Alone again… (exhales slowly in wonder) Everyone finally gets what they deserve. Life isn’t unfair. Life is as fair as we make it folks. And you decide cooperatively what fair is and is not. That’s all for now. :: bolt

PA: Blog-City // 05

February 15^th – Rash
So the deal is- I’ve become addicted to this thing called Writer’s Window. Much like this blog, I used to be pretty active in it before. Then I pulled some stunts, got a little cynical, and got nixed. So now I’m back. In the past few weeks I’ve been running wild across this site. Uploading all the old archives and such. Basically, this site, based in New Zealand (isn’t technology great?) is a place for writers to come and post their work, be it Poem, Short story, chapter story, essay/report, whatever. And then other members read that work and provide feedback. I use the same original pen name (monsterbox) and everything is done at leisure. Its wonderful! They have a great community and they’re all very helpful with the feedback they give. Wow… look at me, advertising on the blog again. Honestly its a blast. (All the nerds who consider writing crap and posting it on a site so a bunch of foreigners can read it and say- Well, not bad.- to be a ‘blast’ get all excited.) Mr. Ogle. You may consider posting Rewind on there, I think it would do well.

Today after school I made my way to the junior high to earn some tutoring hours by teaching young excitable kids with little interest in mathematics and far more potent interests in things like “blowing up the school with homemade napalm and a four foot fuse so you gotta run like hell to get away and even then you scorch the hairs on your neck cause last time, Braxton did it and set his hair on fire! Now he’s got a scar! See? Show him Braxton! That happened in the field next to my house. I figure we added a little too much gasoline and need to… y’know-”
“Put less in?”
“Yeah, like that. Reduction of the compound ratios in the original fuel formula should provide for a more stable explosion. I’d guess that about twelve percent should bring the ratios to an even level… so what were we workin’ on?”
“We were doing algebra.”
“Yeah… I hate alguh-bra. I can’t do math. It’s just no fun.”

You gotta teach the kid in a way that interests him… otherwise, they just don’t click. So Jack, Braxton, and I rewrote all the formulas from “bushels of grapes” to “gallons of  gasoline” or “sticks of dynamite” or “weapons grade uranium cores” and they finished it in no time. So I said bye bye and as I’m walking out I go by the gym and step into the bathroom, as I step back out of the bathroom I find a flood of basketball players all about a head shorter than me communing beside the drinking fountains being rowdy and swearing like all good little boys and girls do these days (is it just me or does my cynicism make me sound old? Darn young folk these days… No good these days…) As I’m walking past, one of the kids, skinny little boy- shoves one of the more horizontally gifted players to the ground and gives him a good swift kick in the ribs right beside me. “Hey!” It was like my shoulder reached out and slapped the kid. Because one moment I’m walking blithely past and the next I’m next to walking right into him. I was unhappy with the boy, granted. And he knew it as soon as I bumped him as hard as I did. We calmly dealt with the problem right then and there.
I’ve got a particular slant concerning these kinds of things. Mostly because once upon a way back when- I was King Nerd. (By king I mean: the greatest of all nerds, the ultimate debauchery of human existence. I was a skinny little shrimp and I, as well as everyone else, knew it. Atop that, I was freaking really shy. So I got a lot of flak. And a lot of flak… and even more flak atop all of that. Suffice it to say that my younger years involved eating a lot of crap that bigger, older, more aggressive individuals made their business to shove down my throat. Enter highschool, join wrestling. Wrestle my brains out. Not so small and not so skinny anymore. Join speech and debate. Public-speak my brains out. Not so timid and shy anymore. Go to a junior high and see the same thing happen to someone else? … Do not touch it. I will walk all over you before I let it go. I’ve got some strong feelings about these things. And I felt good about what I did today. It was like revenge almost… only it was a favor. Passing the grace to another student. I remember being that age and the few certain people who made a stand for me that no one there was capable of dismounting. You always remember those people.

So scratch off number seven. It’s finally been done. ^_^

PA: Blog-City // 05

February 14^th – Oh forget it
Okay, so the deal was, I was going to compose this four hundred line super-exposition about the speech and debate tournament that I attended last weekend. A few paragraphs into it- I realized what I was doing was the basic equivalent of writing a memior concerning a TWO DAY period. That’s mostly because when I start writing detail-  I write detail. So I read what I had so far. Swore at myself for having only gotten five minutes into the first day, and noted that it had taken me fifteen minutes to describe those few moments in full Caleb-Quality-Clarity. (I have an HD memory…) I calculated the average time it was going to take me to complete the thing at the current rate. Being a bit beyond displeased at the answer, I then calculated how long the completed work would be… Again, displeased.
So, because I don’t have an extra six days to compose three reams worth of documentation that will probably not be read anyway, I have in that spririt, lowered my standards and present the following Super-D-Duper-Shorter-Than-All-Heck-Version of this past weekend.

Got up early on friday and started memorizing my oratory for seven hours, an act that ultimately proved to be futile (sad face). I completely ignored memorizing my comedy act for the entire weekend and somehow knew it better than the oratory. I compete in three events, oratory does well somehow, so does comedy act for both rounds. In debate I get a free pass (bye) first round and win the next round. By now it’s late so we all go home and agree to meet back on the bus at seven am.
At seven o’three my phone rings right next to my head.
While running like a madman out to my car, I realize I’ve forgotten all of my stuff. Run back in, grab stuff, run back out. Throw all the stuff in the back seat. Open the front door, turn back to make sure I closed the garage door- it’s closing, spin back around quickly- BANG! Corner of car door enters my cheek about an inch (2.54cm) below my left eye and punctures deep enough to scrape the bone. Crap. By my reflection in the car window it is obvious that I need stitches. Get in car, close door, pinch eye shut with left hand. Drive all the way to the school with my right. Arrive at school and run like heck up to the bus where I, still bleeding from the face and hand and jeans covered in blood greet my teammates who just stare at me. One asks if I need stitches.
Ten minutes later we arrive at the tournament and ive got a bandaid over my face. I advanced into semifinals in oratory, but didn’t make it beyond that because for all my memorizing, I couldn’t remember a word of it. (sad face). Advanced all the way to finals in Stand-Up Comedy. (Happy face) Advance to quarterfinals in debate. (happy face again.) Go to awards ceremony, perform live stand-up comedy on a four-foot stage in front of four hundred competitors and totally rock the house. (happy face) Advance to semifinals in debate. Advance to finals in debate. I conquer the kid and still lose. Odd that was… Finish up the tournament taking home two trophies and a great deal of self-esteem. Team goes to Wendy’s to celebrate. I’m taking a friend home and the following events occur while driving in the freezing snow: Go to gas station, buy gasoline, drive away from gas station, drive just to the edge of the highway, front drivers side tire blows off of my axle and car hits the ground. Run through the snow back to the gas station, call my parents, friend calls his parents. Both arrive at the same time. Thankyou, thankyou. Go look at car. Wow… its busted. Yeah no joke. Make it home at eleven thirty saturday night with two trophies, a ton of ballots, one very conspicous hole in my face, and one less wheel then I started out with.
Sunday we go replace all the tires on the car at walmart. $214.11 (sad face)
Monday- gradually develope an extra audio conduit in both my ears specially existant for the sole purpose of tuning out the phrase- “Dude… what the heck happened to your face?”

Overall it was a lot of fun!

PA: Blog-City // 05

February 1^st – Razor Blades
So far I’ve had the question asked of me twenty trillion times today. It was almost eerie. For the first time in my life, yesterday I dropped into the library and began reading the sanity-sucking popularity magnet called Harry Potter. The first was small and I finished it in twenty four hours. Oddly enough, having never even opened the book before, I felt as though I’d already read it. I’m telling you I knew the entire story… verbatim. I knew exactly what was happening and what was going to happen and exactly when the happening would happen! WHY? Because I’ve had four years MINIMUM, to hear about it before reading. That’s quite a lot of time. So I picked the book up and quoted along with the story and every five seconds someone, from every class I’m in, is asking me- “So what do you think? Do you like it? They’re good aren’t they? I’ll bet you can’t guess what happens in the fifth book! What do you think about Malfoy? Guess who’s the bad guy. Don’t you think they’re the greatest books ever!?” And I’m like- “Whoa, did you write this book or something? They’re alright okay? See me, here on page five? Yeah, come back when I’m on the third goliath novel she’s written. By that time the seventh book will be out and you can bug me about it.”
I guess it’s not the fact that everyone’s is thrilled about my having read it, its the sheer frequency of its occurence. Tell you what. When I finish the second book, I’ll do a review of the first two here on the site. And I’ll continue to do reviews of those books untill I’ve read them all. That way if you really want to know my opinion on the sanity-sucking pandemic, you can read about it here. ^_^ YAY!

Tonight at work while sweeping the store up we collected a total of eight completely purposeless razor blades. Two inches (5.08cm) across, about an inch (2.54cm) depth, all of them were the same, not attached to anything. Just kinda… there, on the floor. Creepy and all being that Michael’s doesn’t sell razor blades. So no one knows where they came from but they had to be dumped manually because there was no way they were going to politely stay inside a trash bag with the other garbage. “Oh yes, we promise to be nice and not tear giant gaping holes in the lining of your bags and spill all the garage all over your freshly swept and mopped floor!” Wrong… So we scooped em’ up and deposited them in the dumpster, they’ll be there forever. There’s sticky stuff in the dumpster, and heaven knows that razor blades will have very little trouble making their way to the bottom.

PA: Blog-City // 05

January 23^rd – Do a good deed today, if someone’s car is on fire, hold their dog while they put it out!
Yesterday after church, a friend and I went driving around for the afternoon. We went to the mall first, and were there for perhaps fifteen minutes while I got some cheap chinese food. Then we went to The Magic Noodle and my friend got some not-so-cheap chinese food. But the kid works every day of the week and is absolutely loaded, so he, considering his history, didn’t at all mind the embellishment. That meal kinda set the tone for the day. For the rest of it we mostly pretended to be freaking millionaires. Eating at fancy places, going to Office Depot and sitting in a three hundred dollar chair at a five hundred dollar office desk and using their forty dollar touch-activating lamp to do homework. All the while imagining we were CEO’s is amazingy powerful companies. “Hey Ryan, I just fired a hundred workers. I’m replacing them with an automated supply line system. What are you up to?” “I hate math.” It was one heck of a day, not to mention exciting. Pulling up to the seventh and main intersection we glance over to our right and see this guy running circles around his truck across the street. There is smoke literally pouring out of the thing. I say- “Wow, looks like his truck is on fire.” Whoosh! Flames dart up out of the engine! “Ryan, grab your phone.” I’m half expecting the thing to blow apart any second now right there in the middle of the street. The pour guy is in the front with his head ducked inside the ingine reaching in and trying to pat it out with his hands. There are a hundred cars rolling past and no one is stopping. Some genius opens their door as they pass and yells- “Dude! Your car is on fire! Use your coat!” Thank you Mother Teresa… did your good deed for the day before speeding off. Actually it was a pretty good idea and the guy takes it to heart. *Begins shoving a thick wadded coat down into the engine rapidly tryng to smother the flames.* I’m ripping the car around the corner and drop it in park. Ryan and I pop out and jog over to the mess. “Which part is it?” I yell. “Its the alternator, I think I’ve almost got it…” I peer into the hood and see wires snaking out of a box all melted and smoked and burning. A sharp acrid smell hit my nose and I pulled back, the stench stinging my eyes. The poor guy was at a loss. His little dachsund was going absolutely nuts. And kept trying to wander away. He would pat for a few seconds, grab his dog and set it back down near the truck and quickly resume tryng to exinguish the fire. I’m like- dude, where’s the water at? We could fry your engine sure but at least your freaking truck isn’t going to blow its gas tank, kill us all, and take out the bank we’re parked next to. So Ryan grabs onto the dog and helps the guy out with the fire and I start running for a faucet. Seventh and main on a sunday, everything within four blocks is closed. A fact that was accentuated later. So that’s not going to work, a race back and they’re getting the fire put out. Now its just this nasty chemical smoke clouding up the intersection as if a fog. Some guy in a red car pulls up[ behind and hops out with a cell phone. Fifty thousand cell phones in this town and nobody figures on stopping and helping the guy except for two teenage punks and one guy in a Toyota. We put the little dog in the truck’s cab and put the machine in nuetral. When the light at the intersection turns green- we, all four of us, begin to shove the smoking pile of wasted metal across the street, around the corner, down a small slope and into an empty parking lot. Three minutes later- sirens begin to ring through the air. Someone with a cell phone had called the fire department and they sent a truck loaded with guys and hoses and axes and the whole enchilada. Ryan and I got back into my car, feeling much better about ourselves for the rest of the day and awaiting the next random excitement that would come to cross our paths. And fortunately for us, it wasn’t that far away…

PA: Blog-City // 05

January 19^th – Seventy times seven
Anthony Casimir and I continue to maintain perfectly polar opposite lives when concerning happiness. He’d finally found love and not so many people were rooting for him. I had a lot of insane friends crawl out of the woodwork just recently and had aboslutely no hope due to my immense stupidity. Yesterday- Casimir discovers that “Jenny” may not be exactly all he’d dreamed her to be just as his fan-club got really seriously going. I found that I had more hope than should be possible and now a load of people absolutely hate me. The order and timing of these events makes a few really wierd coincidental events seem more like a random encounter with fate. Which invariably means that on every day that I find myself in a good mood, it will likely be raining.

I understand the immense amount of concern generated over what happened. I know what I deserve, and I know full and well that this isn’t it. So recently I find myself walking around very confused and singing the words to Amazing Grace. Because it really makes very little sense. Ogle, you’re right, Seventy times seven did happen a long time ago. And I’ll be apologizing for the remainder of my life. I can’t for forgiveness, I refuse to demand something I don’t deserve. I don’t even want it, because I know I shouldn’t have it. And I know you can’t trust me again. My word is worthless, granted. And I know, Jess, that this is probably confusing the living crap out of you and is likely producing a terrific headache. Just let this one pass okay? Sorry.

I cannot prove to any of you that what I say now is sincere. And if for the remainder of my life I am not trusted or forgiven again based upon my recent actions then you would all be justified. Fully and totally. Either way- I intend to do everything I can to restore the beauty that I made hell of eight months ago.  can only do everything I can. I got lost, I got a little unhinged… major unhinged. And a few nights ago I was hit with a pile driver revelation and that event was powerful enough that I knew… and I saw exactly what I had done, and as I rained all over my own carpet I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to fix things if I still could. I knew then I had to do everything I possibly could to restore. Ogle I don’t ask you to trust me, and I can’t ask your forgiveness, and in truth it was a crime against all of you, and I know you dealt with hell to hold lives together while I was gone. I thank you so much for doing what I was too stupid to do. I know what you’ve been through and I cannot express enough regret my creations. I thank you. And I am sorry. I’m back this time. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I am. Honestly.

Namaro…