http://www.typetees.com/score/1764667/It_s_no_a_question_of_how_many_out_of_Ten_It_s_Yes_or_No/from,tt+myspace

Here's another! You should make some too!

http://www.typetees.com/score/1764725/Sarcasm_isn_t_lost_in_text/from,tt+myspace

If you like my slogan then vote so it gets printed. You should make some too!

I’m sad today.

There’s tightness in my chest and pulling feeling in my throat.  My lips affixed in a frown and my eyes near winced.  A cavalcade of thoughts and memories wash me over in emotion.  Me.  Emotion.

A passing phase perhaps.

I wish it would pass already.  It breaks my concentration and muddles my thoughts.  It’s weighing me down.  I’m slow.  It’s as if I weight three thousand pounds.  I hang my head in an attempt to relax, to clear it.  If only I could sleep.  If only I could fade out of consciousness.  Just this once, for now, please.  Please give me some rest.

If you ask me how I’m doing, I’ll say that I’m surviving.  I’m not living.  This is just life.  I am adrift in a river, lazily being carried towards the end; towards an ocean of stars and souls.  Each day passes without fanfare, without sparks.  No ebb and flow.  No give and take.  A body, sailing atop serenity.  Below the surface lies excitement, danger.  Change.

I survive because that’s all there is.  Yes there’s growth.  Momentum.  Patience.  Resilience.

What do I have so much fortitude for?

What am I holding up for?

What keeps me here?

Long past are the “good ole days”.  Sometimes I can’t believe that there ever were.  An almost flat line of forever… my life seems so uneventful.  My friends, moved forwards.  There are relationships, offspring, marriages, world exploration, careers, families, ownership, death, breakups… loss.  The roller coaster of life, some say.  Excitement matched by unpleasantness. 

Yet like the leaf on the river; I float.  Above me, the changing sky.  Signals of days gone and nights to come.  The clouds mock me as they zoom past, ever irresolute.  Below: the struggle of life.  Creatures glide through the depths, eating, chasing, growing, dying.  Plant life blossoms where it can.  Even the rock is gently altered by the flow of the water.

The sun keeps me warm.  It reminds me that, while placid, I can feel.  This astounding warmth… I’ve wished for it to be mine and mine alone.  Deep down, I recognize that its brilliance is for all to enjoy.  I feel less special.

The sky spits upon me.  I am peppered with volleys of it’s tears.  There, in the wet darkness, I’m reminded that I drift alone.  The rain will nourish all which it touches. Flora…fauna… wildlife, will drink and be merry.  I can not rejoice for I am dying.  Removed from that which brought me life.  Removed from my home.

I float along.....

The Postal Service: The District Sleeps Alone Tonight.

Smeared black ink.
Your palms are sweaty,
and I'm barely listening
to last demands.
I'm staring at the asphalt wondering
"What's buried underneath where I am?"
(Where I am)

I'll wear my badge:
a vinyl sticker with big block letters
adhered to my chest.
It tells your new friends
"I am a visitor here... I am not permanent."
And the only thing keeping me dry is...

You seem so out of context,
in this gaudy apartment complex.
A stranger with your door key,
explaining that I'm just visiting.
And I am finally seeing
why I was the one worth leaving.
(I was the one worth leaving)

D.C. sleeps alone tonight.

(Where I am)
You seem so out of context
in this gaudy apartment complex.
(Where I am)
A stranger with your door key
explaining that I'm just visiting.
(Where I am)
And I am finally seeing
why I was the one worth leaving.
(I was the one worth leaving)

(Where I am)
The District sleeps alone tonight
after the bars turn out their lights.
(Where I am)
And send the autos swerving
into the loneliest evening.
(Where I am)
And I am finally seeing
why I was the one worth leaving.
why I was the one worth leaving.
why I was the one worth leaving.
why I was the one worth leaving.
---------------

How fitting.

I board the plan bound to So Cal in 2 hours.  The rain began falling an hour ago.  My bags are packed.

Perhaps, I've losr all of my passion.
--Sent from my Helio

Heh...


... me again.  This time to illustrate my wants.  Scratch that.  This will will a "stream of consciousness" type-of-affair.  So whatever I type, stays there. No backspace... no wait, backspace DISABLED.  Yeah, that sounds, erm, looks, yeah better.

I guess I need.

No.

I want to write, type, some things out.  Jus' the stuff that's been floating around in my head.  Like a snowball down a slope.  Uhm, no.  Like a snowball... fuck, lost it.  Snowball effect, ok?  First there was seeing Cour... No, before that.  First there was saying goodbye to...

Let's do this:

First there was saying goodbye to Heather.  Oh Heather.  You're so fuckin' cool.  Maybe you have an idea.  Yet, you should know that.  i felt so comfortable with you.  That's rare.  Not like I change myself for others but acting like MYSELF would only make things better between us.  Like, I liked you.  you were honestly interested in me.  I jus' felt really good about it all.  We'd watch the Daily Show together after cooking dinner together.  Then we'd go lie around in your room.  I'd pluck through your manga while you worked on your vague school work.  You didn't seem to mind my snoring.  I don't make any notice of your "bipolarness".  There was nothing wrong.  Nothing wrong but me.

Then I left.

As if the loss of Sarah was a cornerstone removed from the wall of stability that was my well-being.  Things jus' started to dissolve for the next year.  There were mishaps...  No, things jus' stopped working out.  Nearly no matter what it was.

Ok.  So mentioning Sarah was a step back a YEAR, trust me, s'relevent.

After my goodbye to Heather, sweet Heather, things, no, the rate at which my life was deteriorating was rapid...no, was increasing... fuck.  Things were getting worse faster and more often.  Work... Dave... The Bills... Justin's court date.  The house, then finally my desperate escape to my moms.

I'm taking this moment, right here, to mention that there was some good.  Hope came back.  Ellen was moral support for me, even though I don't think she knows.  I had Aaron around as well as my brother.  Courtney was... well, she was as she is now.  That's better than nothing and I'm thankful.  Then there was Onset.  That was a glimpse at what I want my life to be more like.  It will stay as a goal, a milestone, a marker of where I'm trying to go.  Was such a good night and yet, like I constantly feel in my life, no, about my life, extremely ironic.  I got to play after I found I had no choice but to leave.  Practically no choice.

Back to despair.  I would arrive here, shut off from friends and stifled in entertainment.  Yet, still surrounded by...  Constantly reminded of my inferiority.  Weeks pass, hardly making any friend, money, or progress.  I regress further.  I lose touch, even more, with surviving.  I don't eat as much.  i don't smile, or talk to my family...

Wait.

So, I flew into NYC, didn't get to enjoy the city, twice (once I got there and again on the way out).  Then I got to see Courtney.  i could feel my heart imploding.  A merciless vice squeezing it of all it had left.  Wait, I meant "all that was left".  I was affected.  You could see it on my face.  Well, maybe you couldn't.  I did what I do best when I'm around goddess-made-flesh... I act indifferent.  History has taught me, painfully, i.e Sarah, that being upfront and true only destroys things.  It destroys myself.  Not yourself, myself.  Protect the world by making it feel that you want nothing to do with it.

It hurts.

Everytime.

So, the trip to see Courtney was 1% of what it should've, could've, been.  I made things worse, though not as worse as they could've, would've been.

You follow?

So!  Now I'm in VA, for weeks, unhappy.  Slowly, slowly, sloooowwwwly, moving forward.  I don't even know if that's what you'd call it.  Living here, I would find that I don't relate to the people or the environment.  I would walk around like an anomaly.

You ever feel like you jus' don't belong?

Think about that for a second.  Yeah... -that-.

I'll eventually run into a girl that sparks something in me.  Some sort of divine touch.  SEE: "The girl with white hair".  Yet, that, like all else is riddled with IRONY.

I jus' closed my eyes, went limp, and winced at the thought.  The thought of all of the men that are living the lives that I want to live.

Any guy that Courtney dates.
Whomever is watching The Daily Show with Heather.
The guy sharing a round of drinks with Sarah and her friends.
The boy who's reading books alongside the white-haired girl in a park.
...while I'm here... Whomever it is that MLE is thinking about, well, you know on her mind.

I want to draw a cartoon, it'll end up being a music video.  A character that may represent me.  Doing a days worth of activities alone, but in settings in which there should be two.  Waking up in a bed for two, making breakfast for two, taking a stroll and then having a picnic.  Going on a bike... Scratch that.  A bike ride then a picnic.  Going out to dinner then dancing then walking home.

That's what it feels like.

Currently, my muscles ache in that way they feel sore when you're crying.

I'm not crying.

Back to life.  So, I made friends with the white-haired-girl.  It's good.  There are nice visits.  I lose the words i want to say.  I get awkward.  whatever.  S'lost anyway.  Meanwhile, I make shitty pay as a server.  something I've not done before in my life.  It's money though.

My last day is tomorrow.

I've made a few friends, some work related, some not.  Still, I'm very much an outsider.  As I've been my whole life.  That's the way it is.  Not bad nor good.  Can make a guy sad sometimes.  The 4th musketeer, perhaps.

This brings us, pretty much to tonight.  I've jus' watched "Dr. Horribles Sing-Along Blog".  Rare occurrence but it has, indeed, stirred some emotion in me.  I guess s'no surprise as s'written by a comic writer.  That's what many of them do best.  They -identify- with their audience.  That way, we feel a connection and an attachment to the characters depicted in their works.  

So this brings me to two points.  First, I'll get it out the way, the female protagonist's face has some Sarah-like quality to it.  I can't put my finger on it but, seeing her face, I was taken aback.  S'all so stupid.  I'm sorry for sounding hung up.  I really am sorry.  Call it whatever you want but I jus' miss things.  I miss it all.  All that relationship fluff.

I'm so tired of being lonely.

At the same time, I want it to be -right-.

Anyway, second point.  I really felt for the main character.  All of it.  It's so sad.  I'm glad that it was written the way it was but still.  So fuckin' sad.  Depressing.  ?I saw eye to ey with him, most of the whole way through.

I hate musicals.

This spoke to me though.

Fuck.

Well, that brings us to right.effin.now.  I start my last day of workin less that twelve hours.  I fly far away from here in about forty-eight.

I take comfort in risks and in the unknown.  Though, only when it's faceless and somewhat reckless.  I can't...no, haven't learned to do risks that are minimal and upfront.  Approaching random girls, I find attractive, falls into that category.

Funny how I can jump headfirst into the mouth of a metaphorical/hypothetical abyss yet I'm too scare to talk to girls.

[Final note:  S'been about a year.  I'm going to desist disabling comments...  Tch]

Walking past the local electronics monolith I spotted her.
... Stumbled upon her was more like it.

No, stumbled past her would be the truth.

I had to look again to confirm what I saw.

She sat there, white hair dimming out all other color in sight.  Black frames suspended before ice-blue irises.  
I can't even recall the time of day.  The chairs were green, I remember that.

Did my step falter because she was surrounded by her male friends.  Or, was I taken aback by her.  Knowing me, it was probably... Well...
I wanted to see again.  Luckily I was new to the area, there was no harm in walking towards the corner, looking around, feigning disinterest, and turning around.

So I walked back past them.

Yup.  She was really pretty.  

"Oh!  Ask her about her hair, you like white hair."  I thought during a brief moment of comfort.  Ha, as if I would do that.  Best lock your sights elsewhere and continue forward.

The air was warm and still.

In the coming weeks we would intersect each other within that tiny block of vendors.  I'd try not to look.  Though, I would pay a sliver of attention after our backs faced one another.

Through repetition I conjured that she worked not only as a dealer of liquid caffeine, she was involved with the cosmetology industry.

Sometimes I feel like a creep.

"How many times must you pass her by before talking to her?"

When did I develop a penchant for self-inflicted passive-aggressiveness?  No matter.  I'd push myself a bit.

Many failed attempts later, I would find myself passing her again.  This time, her hair augmented.  A length of green and yellow synthetic extension hung from her snowy locks.

I exclaimed "The Green looks good."  Did I stammer?
She spoke back, with a turn and began walking backwards.  I did the same.  

There was a quick mention of extensions to which I remarked that I could tell.  I just blurted it out nervously, really.  Should I have been surprised that she returned my comment?  

I was just stuck in admiration.  I'm sure of it.

Days fell from the calendar.

Finishing work, I pushed forward into the rainy night.  Rounding the corner I find, none other than the white haired girl, leaving the beauty parlor.  She quickly ducked into the french cafe next door.

This became a moment in which my actions superseded my thoughts. My mouth spoke before I could tell it what I wanted to say.

We met.

I was relieved to have that done with.  The thought alone of such interaction is a bit unnerving.  I suppose infatuation has it's tolls.

Now, running into her was met with brief conversation.  Nothing substantial, ever.  Just the kind of talk that I'm not good at.  Chit-chat.  Words strung together in such a way that there is little effort in replies.  Notions, comments, reflections, a penny a piece.

Through those exchanges we were able to find time for a prolonged visit.  Through that I was able to arrange in stealing a few moments of her time.  

We sat down, the dull roar of the other dining guests permeated the air.  What followed was nothing out of the ordinary.  A bit of introspection, laughter, anecdotes, explanations, and disclaimers.  The things people talk about upon their first moments around one another.

The day prior was her day off.  That was a topic of brief discussion.  She mentioned that they perused the city and read in the park.

"His name is Johnny." She said.
"Oh." I replied.