Still searching, wondering how it all went so wrong...
it's been almost 8 months now since everything went down, and my life took a turn i just never expected it to do so. it's not something i'll ever forget, and i'll likely to feel the pain for the rest of my life, but for the most part, i've moved on.
still, there are moments when the pain is still intense. i'm cleaning my apartment - sort of a spring cleaning, even if it did snow 6 inches last night. i bought a file cabinet, figuring that maybe it'll help me keep semi-organized. i have a bad habit of leaving receipts and such all over the place, and of saving magazines with articles i like, and stuff like that. so, maybe i'll file them away, in some some sembelence of order...anyway, i digress.
so i'm going through stuff that's piled up. most of it old financial stuff and manuals for stuff i bought and magazines and the aforementioned receipts. but, among those receipts, are receipts for things we did on our honeymoon - a week i look back with a mixture of fondness and sadness.
fondness, because we had a truly fun time, and really miss those times with her. sadness, because i had no idea it was a farewell trip of sorts. to me, it was her honeymoon. but she was saying goodbye, and i had no idea that's what she was doing.
pictures too. coming across those as well. that really sucks. we did some really fun things together. had some great times. i truly, truly enjoyed our five years together, and damn, they were special.
i realize i played a huge role in her leaving, but...it just was so unexpected to me. caught me completely off guard. i think that's why it's still kinda raw. it was so sudden and abrupt, and just ripped me completely out of the life i was living, ripped from me the life i was expecting.
i thought i'd grow old with her. i thought we'd have babies and take our kids camping and to Mets games and to wrestling matches and stuff. play catch with them and kick the soccer ball with them.
maybe one day i'll get out of this funk, and maybe the wounds won't seem so fresh. man. i hope so.
Lost and found...
it's been a long time since i did anything here...
a lot of things happened to me. i got lost. it was a path i let myself go down, and ultimately i have no one to blame but myself. but i did go down that path, and while i'm still trying to find my way back, i'm closer now than i was 6 and 12 and 18 and 24 month ago.
i don't know how i found myself on that path, but it was a journey i never wanted to take. yet, i found myself going down a road i knew i shouldn't be going down. even worse, i couldn't seem to stop myself.
and then, on top of all that, it was a place of darkness, and any light manufactured was just artificial, and not real. yet, i plunged into the darkness, stumbling my way through, and not even realizing where i was going, why i was taking this trip, or, honestly, that i was even doing it.
i stopped doing all the things i loved, all the things i enjoyed. things like writing, or watching sports with friends. or...other things too....and people i loved? they weren't on me on this journey, and...i forgot about them,,,
as i find my way back home, most of my recollections of the depths of my journey are hazy. the light i now see seems natural and real, but looking back, it seems almost like i watched someone else make the trip, and that it wasn't me who descended lower, and lower, and lower, into the depths.
but, i know it was me.
i know, because i paid a heavy toll on that road. a heavy, heavy, toll.
On this weekend's out-of-control basketball brawl....
from my good friend, MC Hebraic...
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Black man, black man, what's it gonna be?
can you rebound? pass? shoot the three?
dunk? show off? merchandize?
we'll give you all the marketing ties.
you'll be rich, buy your moms a home,
tossing you dollars like a dog and a bone,
but when it comes time to watching your back,
i'm your owner, i'm Whitey, i ain't got jack.
Those people in the crowd pay your salary,
who cares if they're guilty of thuggery?
they can slap you, they can taunt you, they can throw a bottle of beer,
you make a million bucks, don't defend your career.
you should sit still and do as your told,
don't get uppity and don't get bold.
the guy who threw the battery and now your head hurts?
don't lay a hand on him - he bought 500 bucks worth of shirts.
As The Rock said, you need to know your role,
and that's putting the b-ball into the hole.
you may have money, you may have fame,
but you're just a black pawn in a white man's game.
Two Old Men on the Subway...
Two old men on the subway, seating across from me.
They laugh and they talk and they slap their knees and you can tell they're dear friends.
One with brown leisure suit and an orville reddenbocked bow tie, the other wearing tan slacks, rain boots, a london fog jacket over a v-neck t-shirt with some grey chest hair coming out of the top, a fisherman's bucket cap, and a Hemingway beard.
They tell stories and laugh and when they talk you can hear their accents, from some old world European country.
You can tell they're dear friends, and I wonder if they knew each other back in the old country...
Subway car, Thursday late night...
punk rock drag queen two old men with russian accents four frat boys three black girls in short skirts a man in a tuxedo two lesbians holding hands a gay boy in cut off jeans a well dressed older couple out for a night on the town two mexican laborers either going to or coming from work a kid in hip hop gear and a lot of bling a security guard eatting a tuna sandwich two chinese men with wares from chinatown a woman with a baby in a stroller an indian woman in a sari some homeless guy sleeping in the corner a young rockabilly couple he with grease in his hair wearing a work shirt and some mega mutton chops and she sporting bettie page bangs and a lot of tattoos.
and me.
The Love Song of J. Owen Prufrock
Long blonde hair
Brown boy pants
Jenny Owen Youngs
Will make you dance
She can Shake and bake
Like batter in a bag
With her Sad Robot
Your feet won’t drag
You’ll prance, you’ll sway
You *will* sashay
And if you don’t boogie you’re one of the few
‘Cause Reverend J-O-Y makes you rise from your pew
It is time for me to write...
It is time for me to write.
I have wasted too much time watching televison and surfing the internet.
I have not read enough. I have not written enough.
I have another blog, but it is too narrow in scope. I need a place where I can put any of my words. All of my words.
I have plenty of them. They are scattered about. On my home computer. On my work computer. On my handheld computer.
And in my head. Lots and lots in my head, fighting to get out. But also pulling their punches in the pitched battle, because they are afraid that once the leave, there will be no where for them to go.
They fear they will be stranded, floating in an intangible abyss. They are frightened that they will be captured, torn apart unnecessarily, because the world is harsh.
perhaps this is the place for my words. a place they can call home. A safe harbor where they can rest and relax and blossom, free from uncertainity, free from chaos and mayhem.
Perhaps here, finally, is a place for my words to come home.
Thanks to larry brown, and of course, angie.
