Off the edge

My mind is a deranged - a car speeding along the dirt road on the side of a mountain, sharp corners and blades of the knife turns. Soon the car will careen off the mountain, it is only logical. When that happens, the real fun begins.

Artistic indifference

I should've gone out for photography (some material NSFW; sign up might be necessary).

The Final Days

Today is one of those days when life is just not worth living. I'd like to imagine a girl out there, several miles away, thinking the same thing. I'd also like to imagine her hanging herself. What's more morbid is, I secretly want this girl to live next door to me.

Father

My father isn't an enigma. There isn't really anything to understand. He loved my mother and he loved his children, it's just that he loved his addiction more. A day that doesn't go by when I don't reflect on one thing: No matter how much I try, I can never live down the fact that I am just like him - a man who hangs onto his addictions no matter what.

Disagree & pseudo celebrity

Guy in front of me at the courthouse auditorium looked a lot like Judge Reinhold. Apparently, however, Hidalgo County doesn't think that online college courses are exemptable excuses. Because, as the deputy district clerk said, "They can be taken whenever." Wrong, missy. Like all courses, online classes have a time frame for quizzes and tests. Fucking idiots.

A good teacher

I learned my high school freshmen theatre arts teacher died in a bus accident in Mexico. The news, even though I haven't spoken to him in years - and I'm certain he didn't really care much for me - still depresses me.

Morally Blank World

It is not God who kills the children. Not Fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us. [...] Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world.

Watchmen

Lack of faith in me, isn't it? That's why she breaks up with me. Lack of faith in myself leads me down to the point where I can't love myself either. I wonder if it's her doing. If she's the reason I hate myself? Or maybe there's something more that I'm not seeing.

The world is decrepit. Dying on the street with pollution, crime, politics - capitalism - a human cancer that spreads across its body. Soon the trees will be replaced with factories spewing smoke into the sky. The asshole with the Hummer drives too fast. I can only imagine him hitting a kid, his kid, and then blaming the industry for his stupidity.

Weren't we promised changed? A child-rapist gets off because he confesses? Are we now living a world there slaps someone on the wrist for something so heinous? He's punishment includes being restricted where he can and cannot go or live. Cheap shot punishment. Fry the fucker.

When the tumor is visible, shouldn't we cut it out? Treat it? Wipe the body clean of it?

Meanwhile, the child is forever scarred. Her nightmares are filled with his deeds. Where's a Rorschach when we need one?

Stepping stone

The Lover Pleads with His Friend for Old Friends

Though you are in your shining days,
Voices among the crowd
And new friends busy with your praise,
Be not unkind or proud,
But think about old friends the most:
Time's bitter flood will rise,
Your beauty perish and be lost
For all eyes but these eyes.

W.B. Yeats, A Poet to His Beloved: The Early Love Poems of William Butler Yeats

Feeling blue. Is that cliche? Feeling blue? Spent most the time wandering and wondering around the house. I felt wasted. Defeated, even. Smoking was something I longed to do. I have an addictive personality - I've only smoked a few times in my life, all about 10 or so years ago. Sad, ain't it?

I miss my friends. Can't get over what was said. I feel I should apologize. I feel I should make amends rather than burning bridges.

Fragmentary

Last night a friend and I had a talk about our loneliness. It can be summed up in a sentence: "We're a couple of assholes, you and me."

Another friend and I had drifted. It's mostly my fault. Our minds used to be so in sync. Now I'm sure we couldn't play rock paper scissors and land on the same item.

One friend asked me why it was we don't talk or hang out anymore. My response was simple, "Because you got married."

Times change, I suppose. And I can't seem to let the past go. Why can't I return to childhood and start all over again?

It's been four years now

I don't drive. I still get a kick out of it when people freak out that I don't drive. That doesn't mean, however, that I've never been in a car accident. It was four years ago. Jyg and I were in the car going to pick up her little sister, when a truck decided to dart in front of us. We, what the doctors at Edinburg Regional called, were in a T-bone.

When we made impact, I didn't close my eyes. Sometimes at night, I still have nightmares about it.

Of Remorse & Poetry

My Secret Identity Is

The room is empty,
And the window is open

Charles Simic, The World Doesn't End

Last night, I read a poem by Yeats. It's from the only Yeats book I own. A Poet to His Beloved. The one poem that stands out for me the most is on page 14, "When You Are Old."

Last night, I spoke to a friend about emotions. We're both emotional wrecks. I used to show my emotions better, but lately I've isolated myself. How does one expect a simple apology to undo all the wrongs caused by his hand?

Afterthoughts

"We're a couple of assholes, you and me."