09-30-2026
I miss you. You’re gone. Maybe I left. Is that part important? I think about you all the time. I drink a lot. I think people like me better when I am drunk. And silly. Doesn’t matter much if they do or don’t. I should stop drinking. I like smoking weed better anyway. I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want to be pinned down. Stapled to some idea of what it might be like down the line. Shoot, our wires got crossed somewhere. Maybe my wires. This is the only way I know how. To tell you that I miss you. I can’t say it to your face. I do though. I did anyway. Last time we saw each other. And when I called you. And when you facetimed me. I think about you, baby.
Life is tragic. I know. Obviously. I feel it everyday. I bet everyone does. But it’s not tragic for no reason. It’s tragic because it started. Thus it will also end. Like so many other things. So many things start and end. The moment they start they really start ending. That’s life. And we think when it ends, then that’s really tragic. But when it ends, the tragedy ends. One tragedy ends. But we all keep going. Oh yeah. Life goes on. Long after the thrill of living is gone.
Faces. Breakfast. Grandma. I remember this. Teacher. She is nice to me. Talking. I can Talk too. I can talk watch. I am Talking. We are Talking. He is Talking! What is he doing? They think It's funny. They like it. Where do we have to go. I am done. Another face. I remember something I heard it. Outside. The trees. Alone. Only one tree. Green Leaves. Blue Jacket. Lunch. I remember Talking. I can Talk. I remember later. I can see everything. I can’t stand it. Forget it. You don’t understand me. Nobody does. Only I understand me. But I might as well.
My oldest friend. I remember him so well. Well, I think so. I don't remember where he lives now. Or what he does. He is so nice and clever too. What a clever guy. And he understands me. He understands what I like. He understands my style. We did some fun stuff together. Our families are friends too. My family and his family are friends with each other. But he really gets me. Like, my mom gets me, and my dad gets me a bit too but not as much as my mom, and my sister get me a bit more than my dad and more than my mom in some ways but less in others, but he gets me in a different way. A lot of people don't get me. And they don't get him either! So we get each other. I should call him. It has been so long. I should tell my mom. She is so helpful. She says it"s a good idea. She even gave me some ideas of what to ask him. She has been there for me my whole life. She gets me. Definitely. I should call him. Maybe I will text him first. He didn't respond. I will call. He didn't answer. Does he have my number saved in his phone still? Is his number the same? Maybe he is just busy. I am sure he still gets me.
07-12-2026
It's sunday morning. I woke up an hour or two ago. Pretty nice out. A bit muggy. I already had breakfast. Cereal. High fiber. I added freeze dried strawberries. Just to spice it up. A pop of flavor. A little excitement. Now I'm sitting on the couch. The wife is listening to NPR at the kitchen table. I am watching State of the Union on CNN, as I do every Sunday for as long as I have had a television. I can still smell the coffee in the pot. We bought our coffee maker at BiMart. My father always brewed Folgers. I often do the same. More often I buy bulk and grind it at the store. Medium Roast. Colombia. Ethically sourced, of course. Today there is no good news. There never is. The democrats are losing their edge, what's left of it anyway. There is a god damn crook in office. I realize my jaw is clenched. I ask the wife if there is more coffee. Yes honey she says. She brings the pot over and tells me what they have been talking about on NPR. Same stuff I have been watching out here. I don't say that. I just listen. I agree with her. It's terrible what they are doing. Did you hear what's going on? It's just terrible. Unbelievable, I know. Thanks honey. I return to the television. We bought this TV at Costco 3 years ago or so. Gave the old one away on craigslist. I watch and listen like I always do. I finish my coffee. It's time to start the day. I go to my room to get dressed. My favorite cycling shorts are dirty, and the wife hasn't started the laundry yet. I'll use my secondarys. I got them as a christmas gift from my oldest son 5 years ago now I believe. Honey where's my high vis vest? Honey? She has her airpods in now. She is getting ready to pull weeds out in the front yard. I probably left it in the garage. Alright. I pack my bag. I prepared my signs yesterday. Spent all week drafting ideas at work. The signs this week are pretty good. I have been doing this since 2016, when he first got elected. God, unbelievable. I just couldn't believe it.
07-11-2026
I sit in the backyard and look at the tree. The backyard is like a prison yard. My friend left the freezer in the garage on. My other friend left two ugly suitcases in the garage. I downloaded instagram. I smoke one to two cigarettes a day. I think about the truth. I think about houses. I think about the movie we watched the other night. I like the birds I can see from my backyard. I like my backyard because I like the birds. Sometimes I think about past lovers. I won't admit it to anyone. I think about the future. I think about the news back home. I think about my life. Only time I stop thinking is in the backyard like a prison yard with my cigarette the second one and the bird in the tree. I might watch a movie with my current lover tonight.
Cameras on every porch. Get in the car. Open the door without stepping on the grass. Do not step on the grass. Mom says what are you doing. I don't want to step on the grass. What if I can get from the sidewalk to the car without stepping on the patch of grass in between? What if I couldn't step on the grass? What if instead of grass it was fire? And lava? And it would hurt me? Dad says hurry up the farmers market ends in 45 minutes. I don't really care about the farmer's market. I don't care at all. I'd rather not step on the grass.
I think about the girl at the gym. I think about my girlfriend more. I think I shouldn't think about the girl at the gym. Frankly, I didn't mean to. It was an involuntary thought. But it was mine. I think about my roommate. I meant to. I think about my friend. I think about his roommate. I think about my sibling. I think about our father. I think about tomorrow. I think about the movie we watched the other night. I think about the stir fry I made last friday. I think about the stir fry my friend made the week before. I made my stir fry because of the stir fry he made me. I am gonna make another stir fry tonight because of the one I made last friday. I think about the truth. I think about math. I think about what school I should have got in to. I think about the future. I think about something funny. I think about something funny my roommate did. I thought about laughing. I think about what laughing is. I think about dancing. I think about what I will do later. I think about dinner. I think about tomorrow. I think about my girlfriend.
I feel a bit better today. Every day, a little better. The boss asks how I am doing. I tell him I'm alright. I work hard. I'm confident. I know the wood better than I used to. I know what I'm capable of. I know how it will respond. I wonder if I am doing a good job. The boss is stoned. Probably. I wonder if he wonders if I'm stoned. I like this house. I'm not drinking right now. I miss the taste of beer. I mostly drink smoothies instead of eating solid food. Helps with the pain. I have a sore throat. It's getting a little better every day. I remember a quote about something. It was something like humor. Like humor is the best vehicle for truth. Or like humor is the truest vehicle for spirit. I remember where I read. I'll find the quote. "Laughter is the beginning of wisdom." Maybe that was it.
07-10-2026
Today is not much different. The fever is gone but the pain sticks around. Best I can do is lay here. Temporarily calm it. Doctor's orders. Boss says he could really use help today. I know that much is true. Being sick shouldn't have to be a personal issue. Of course I want to help him, and maybe I even could if I forced myself to. But what for? The pain is here. It's pain's turn. I gotta give it my all, because I know it will be gone soon. Sorry boss.
I feel a bit better. Some of those friends who are leaving soon came by for a movie last night. They asked me earlier if I was up for it and I responded in apathy. They showed up anyway. I was glad they did. They are very special to me, like nobody else I know. I admire their devotion to honesty. Honesty beyond just being up front. Radical honesty, a quest of addressing any thought that might cross their mind, especially risky ones. Those things most of us would keep locked away inside and take to the graves, those are prime targets. What if you did the opposite? What if you took nothing with you? What's it like to expose as much of the inside to the outside? It makes for good conversation. And closeness. Trust. Sometimes it even seems perverted, capitalizing on the joy of exposing your own secrets. I am very lucky to call them my friends. I told them they have to call me and tell me all their secrets after they leave. They assured me they will visit often.
Who cares who I am? Not sure. Not worried about it. Maybe I'm bringing the inside out. Folding back outwards. I dreamed about a friend the other night. I told him I had seen his mother. He immediately started crying but maintained his composure. We went outside to his car or mine for some privacy. I carefully coaxed him to tell me why he was crying. He told me his mother would die. He didn't know when but he knew it was inevitable. Once she died she would be gone. And once she was gone there would be nothing to show for her ever even being here. A tragedy so ordinary and so real. When I woke I texted him.
I remember when I was quite young and I had a habit of lying to my parents. Nothing worse than any other kid, frankly, but they noted my deliberate choices to shroud the truth. Not only that, but they were very concerned of the things I wasn't telling them. They categorized these things with the lies, since it was still the truth being shrouded. Omission instead of diversion. I remember they posed an image of a scoreboard with a large number on it. They told me that was the number of lies. They told me I had to bring the number down to zero, and the way I did it was confessing. Confessing to both things I had told them that weren't true and things I hadn't told them that were true. This was while I was waiting for the bath to fill up. Surely anxious parenting and a trace of their catholic roots, which shown then more than now. This was the event that established guilt as a concept for me. I had something, some image, to make it real. There was a score being kept, against my own parents. Basically the only people I knew. Who would I be without the scoreboard? Who would I be without the truth?
07-09-2026
Pain is lonely. Sickness is isolating. The world collapses and fold inwards. I am everything, but only I am pain. We cannot be pain. You understand? We are everything together, but I am my pain.
The other day I thought about being on stage. When you go up there, you are what everyone sees. Implicit conviction. I stick my tongue out when I drum and so that is the way I drum. But being on stage is deliberate. I decide what I am on stage, and the audience decides that that is what I am. Or maybe they don't even have to decide. They are convinced implicitly. I become what I decide. It is powerful. And threatening.
Where do I go from here? I try not to think too much about it. I tell all my friends not to think too much about it. I strive for total faith in nothing. But you can't escape that question. Some of my friends will leave soon. Some of my closest friends. I suppose they have answers for that question. Or at least they have decided to look somewhere else for answers. I like it here. But I still wonder where I will go from here.
The pain is constant. Only I feel it. I feel responsible for it. It's mine. It's all I have. Every moment. It's everything. And yet, one day it will subside. I will forget about it. But not now. Right now is forever.