What if... (Vol. 1)

What if everything could be fixed? What if we could go back and redo the things we have done? What if we could take back those hurtful words? What if we could edit out all of the insensitivity of people? What if there was no close-mindedness? What if there were things that weren't corrupt? What if people meant it when they said "I love you?" What if things made sense? What if I said I was sorry and meant it? What would happen if I saw you and gave you a big hug, the kind that the world would end if I ever let go? What if I told you that a huge hole has been punched through my chest since you've been gone? What if the mere memory of how things used to be was so painful, I actually have trouble breathing? What if I told you I was in love with you?



What if life didn't care........

Crucial

"All the world's a stage...


And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

-William Shakespeare (As You Like It)

For A Rainy Day

Everything in its Right Place - Radiohead
Paper Lung - Underoath
Monster - The Almost
Spirit of the Stairwell - Circa Survive
Videotape - Radiohead
Desert of Song - Between the Buried and Me
Stay Still - Blessthefall
Grapevine Fires - Death Cab For Cutie
Paranoid Android - Radiohead
Home - Foo Fighters
Since We've Been Wrong - The Mars Volta
Karma Police - Radiohead
What Sarah Said - Death Cab For Cutie
Exit Music (For A Film) - Radiohead
Mirrors - Between The Buried And Me

Some Sort of Order

Something righteous can never live here. Everything must be sent through a scum filter and distorted in to something barely recognizable. The order of things is here, but it is never meant to be followed, only changed. There is a way things are "supposed to be" but we imperfect humans project our imperfect ideals in to it and we come up with something gross and putrid. I struggle to find some sort of consistency, some sort of order. I occasionally find it but most of the time its polluted with people trying to bend it so it fits in to their own idea of what the world should be like. The people with money, power, influence, birthright, etc.... They control everything, but it's us, people of experience and reality-based opinions who actually know what will make things better. But they distort, they control, they manipulate, and deceive. What is the point of fighting for something good then? The answer to this question may be less gratifying than you may want but it IS the correct answer: The fact that you have done something righteous. Who cares if it'll never carry you as far as you'd like to go?




I wish I could follow this ideal.......I can't.

Somber Irony

Harsh words dipped in halfway-completed thoughts. Something flashes. Those flashes haunt your existence. They are my entertainment. Something’s wrong here. Something’s very wrong. Do I need to be fixed? They’re my words after all. Your somberness is understood. Your remorse, unfortunately, is in vain. You’ve spent so much to gain so little. My words are not worth your life. My words are not worth their lives. Your haunted existence is only good for entertaining mine. How dare you make me feel remorse for my lack of compromise! Why the hell should I feel bad for your poor choices? I probably shouldn’t. But here I am, feeling like a may throw up. The room spins with intense reality. And just like that, you’re gone. Yeah, real polite! Come over here, turn my thoughts on themselves and just leave. Fuck you! And here I am……

……feeling terrible.

:::::Listen to “Fix Me” by Emery and “Drive My Soul” by Lights:::::

So...

Today (yesterday) was a day of random events. I go to sleep around 4 AM and am woken up 2 hours later by my first nightmare in at least 8 years. I don't really remember what happened in the dream, but I remember it featuring girl ghosts like the kind you see in The Grudge or The Ring. It sounds campy but it was truly intense. I found myself so freaked out that I couldn't go back to sleep. I had a splitting headache for most of the day and was coughing and sneezing all over the place. I went and saw the final Harry potter movie and had all the bittersweet emotions that came with it. This is a beloved series that I have devoted over ten years of my life to enjoying. And now it's over. I came home and only had 2 hours before I had to go in to work. I was sick and only had 2 hours of sleep so I called in. Kevin was not too happy about it but it isn't like I lied to them. I spent the rest of the day resting and watching movies. I then went online to catch up on the status of the World Series of Poker Main Event only to find out that t wasn't posted anywhere on the internet. I wouldn't have wanted to watch it anyway after I found out that they weren't using the hole card cams this year because they were filming everything live. What happened to poker as a spectators sport?! I was decidedly irritated about that. I then decided to buckle down and get some school work done. That was the most irritating research I've ever done simply because it took SO long to find the information I needed. I'm finally finished and needed to blow off steam. Truthfully, I feel sicker now than I did earlier today (yesterday). I'm not really sure if I'll be able to go to work today or not........


"My life is like an inside joke and no one will explain it to me." -Bright Eyes

Crystal Caves

Stand still.

The caves will speak through shimmering beauty and ice-like song. Send your love out. Watch it reverberate through this glass heaven. Light finds its way through. The cave ignites with color as rays push through the prism filled glory. Slight whispers echo in dreamlike tones through the color-lit darkness of this infinite chasm. I close my eyes. The beauty is too much. Silent tears glide down my face. I am at peace here. I breathe the crystal clear oxygen and feel the cool comfort of a silent breeze drifting across my tear-stained face. I'm in love. This idea is such a calm song, although I can't understand the words. I wish I could stay. I already feel as though I'm being pulled away. I am a child again, being reluctantly, but lovingly, pulled away from my favorite toy. There are more important things. There are other magnificent things to behold. Wake up. Pick up your fragile form from the cold dark tranquility. I can make it. I can push forward. Open your eyes....open your eyes.........open your eyes........



Open your eyes.


 :::::Listen to Treefingers by Radiohead:::::

Sleeping Skin

Breathing heavily. It feels nice. Alleviate stress, if only for a moment.

My hand runs across your skin. Such softness. Such sequacity.

My eyes are burning. I need this touch. I need this tract of faux safety.

I see the smile in your eyes. You need it. Just like me.

I smile a sad smile. I know the truth. I know this is not a truth.

This is not a reality. It is a fiction. But my eyes are still burning.

Awake from a sleepwalk. I run my hands across your skin.

The sinking absolution grips my chest. I know. Oh God! I know!

I lean in to kiss your lips. They are so sweet against mine.

My hands take one final run across this tract of false tranquility before I let the realization take hold. Your skin is so cold to my touch.........you're no longer breathing.....



...you're dead to me darling

S L E E P W A L K E R

My eyes - they're open. So Why do I see a dream in front of them? The dreary, wet day brings the sleepwalk out of everyone. Everything plays in slow motion, contrasted by the dull gray drizzling around it in dead motion. What can you do? The dream, my dear, is real. They smile and walk and do their jobs in the same way Crafting together their slow mannerisms as if they were their own gods creating their own worlds with meticulous care. They won't move faster, there's no reason to quicken what will be perfect.


I smile a sad smile. This is where we live, this is what we do......Sleepwalk.

A Degree Of Open-Ended Finality

Everything operates in one unit. But the one unit is consisted of multiple things. Certain circles are born and are disintegrated. I miss when things were simpler. I'm heading towards that now. Simplicity.

We have to learn to do things without any degree of deception. Oh God it just makes everything worse. What hurts the most is that you lied right to my face and then said you'd be sick if you said anything but the truth. That was an especially convincing touch you lying whore.

Truth is, my words are harsh but true so I don't take back anything I said. Did you just feel like sleeping with two friends just to see what their reaction would be when they found out? Was it some demented experiment? Were we just rats in a maze? Because that is what it feels like.

Prod it with a stick just to see what it does.

Too bad you're no different than your cousin. In fact, that you created an elaborate deception for us to run through makes it THAT much worse. I'm not sure if she is capable of creating something so intricate but I guess if she could, she would so you guys are about the same.

Life is a series of collisions and near misses......

.......And missed opportunities.

Intermission

I am sorry that I was unable to post for a good long while. I had a vision for what this blog was going to accomplish and I'm going to accomplish it. I'm back from my break and you're going to see a lot of new things posted here.

Parting Ways (Part 3)

August 3rd 12:33 PM

Two Weeks Ago

That day, the light didn’t cut through the dead air that occupied what was called my home. That day, seemingly nothing woke me up from my frenzied screaming at this menace that haunted my dreams. However, I woke still, the whistling fading from my ears to be replaced by eerie stillness. I let my eyes adjust through the darkness that plagued this place. The drapes were closed. She never left the drapes closed. The headache began pounding away again. God, I needed a drink! I forced myself out of bed and took a moment to marvel at the fact that I even found the strength to do that anymore. This man in the black trench coat was no longer the person that had the answers. He was no longer my only link to discovering why God allowed this to happen. As far as I was concerned God was dead to me and the man in the black trench coat was the demon sent to torment me as punishment. I led myself to the kitchen and flipped the light switch. A weak fluorescent light flickered on casting a dull gray glow across the kitchen. I walked past the refrigerator to go to the cabinet for a glass. I stopped. The room got stiller if that was possible. I slowly backed up to the refrigerator door to see the note magnetized to it. I couldn’t have even heard a pin drop.

I couldn’t even hear myself breathe. Maybe I wasn’t breathing. I felt a dull pain around my knees. I must have collapsed to the floor. I don’t remember anything else.

War

The next week and a half flew by so fast I barely even remember them existing. I poured over her address books, maps, planners, brochures anything that would lead me back to my lost wife. I didn’t have a single drink the entire time. I was not going to let God take the only important thing I had left. This was war, me against The Almighty. I wasn’t going to let him win. The man in the black trench coat barely even made an appearance as if even he was afraid of my newfound determination. I sure as hell wasn’t allowing God to have one more ounce of control in my life and if he wanted it. He was going to have to fight me for it! I poured over everything Haylea had left behind to get some sort of clue as to where she’d be. I called everyone we knew with no luck or any leads. Exhaustion was settling in and I fought it off for as long as possible but to no avail. I ended up falling asleep face first on the desk and again I heard the whistling. There he was, standing dead still with a cold glare shooting me to a standstill. He wasn’t walking towards me but he kept getting closer. His eyes looked wary and alarmed as if he was trying to convey some urgent message of some kind. He moved closer and closer until he was right in my face. His eyes grew wider. He drew a breath and shrieked the word “GOOOOOOO!!!!!” right in to my face. My face lurched off of the desk and I banged my head on the top piece and flew back in to my seat with such force that I knocked a letter opener off of the top and it fell. Almost in slow motion it began to fall, finally piercing through its destination. I lean up to see that it had pierced through the city of ..Cottonwood.., ....Arizona..... I stumbled back and began to scan the room half expecting the man in the black trench coat to be lurking through the corners. I looked again at the map. The man in the black trench coat had finally given me an answer. I knew exactly where I needed to go.

----

I wake again to find myself in the, what I’ve now come to describe as quaint, diner. I grab the pitcher of water and down another few gulps. I heard the door to the front entrance open with a little jingle of the bell. But that wasn’t what grabbed my attention, for as soon as the bell was through with its chime, an infinitely colder and creepier sound took its place; whistling. The temperature seemed to drop a couple of degrees as I swung my head ever so slightly to the door and I see the shadow of a tall man entering the restaurant. I pat my face to make sure I was awake. The awful dull thud of each boot hitting the ground one after the other in slow rhythmic cycles made the hair on my body stand on end. They come to a stop at the table across from me. I dare myself to look in to his face. I look and see that wide brimmed black cowboy hat, the transparent whit beard and those dark and scary eyes. I feel the color drain from my face. He carries with him a black guitar case and he sets it on the ground in front of his chair. I remain frozen in my seat. He takes one more glance at me and he sits down. He opens the case and reaches to pull out a bright milky black beautiful guitar. The first note he strums pierces directly in to the corner of my soul. With the whistling to accompany he begins to sing in a slow forbidding tone:

There once was a man who lost his way

He hid from the light and the bright of day

They looked at him, they wished out loud

He would come back to present and there he’d stay

They reached for him they plead and still

He would not heed the call from highest hill

With outstretched hands and burning hearts

They begged of him to “Please come back Will!”

Now he starts to realize it’s getting too late

To take back the moves he made in this game

He’ll curse the high heavens but all in vain

He’ll weep, he’ll gnash but his fate remains the same

He looks back at those who plead and still

Why did he not heed the call from that highest hill?

With outstretched hands he begs of them

But it’s way too late now to go back Will.

Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm.

As the last note resonates from his guitar, the whistling ceases with it as if I’d been hearing it for the last two years only so it could be a part of the song. Everything goes dead still and silent. I could swear it was below fifty degrees in the room. I try to find my voice to say something, anything. I try to swallow but it feels as though something is stuck in the caverns of my throat. With a grace and speed that could only belong to the man in the black trench coat he stands, puts the guitar away, and makes his way to the door. I manage to mutter one question, “Why are you?” He stops briefly, looks at me with those sad eyes and then walks out the door. I sit in a state of shock for what seems like days, and seconds. From another world these words come, “I’ve got the part.” He must’ve tried several times to get my attention because by the time I realize the kid was back with my part, he is yelling at me. A shake my head to get my bearings and try to smile a convincing smile, he wasn’t convinced. He instructs me on how to put the piece in my car, I pay him, and begin to walk back out in to the unforgiving sun. As I’m about to pull the door open he calls out, “Oh boy! That trip to Cottonwood took a lot out of me!” I turn in alarm, swallow hard and try to give him another convincing smile. Still didn’t seem to work. I pull the door open and venture in to the heat.

Providence

The drapes are open and sunlight makes great attempts to add life to the deadness of the house. Somewhere in the house a phone rings and rings and rings. After a little while a machine clicks on and records. The machine voice chimes in, “You’ve reached 206-576-2031 on August 15th, 2009. Please leave your message after the beep.” It beeps and there is no one there at first then a woman speaks, her reluctance is heavy. “Um, Will. It’s Haylea. Listen baby, I’m so sorry for leaving. I just freaked out you know?” She starts crying, “I shouldn’t have left you. It was wrong and selfish of me. Anything you need to get through I’ll help you get through it. We’ll do it together okay Baby? I love you and I’ll be home as soon as I can.” The machine beeps again and clicks off.

----

About a mile or so back to the car, I begin to feel it, a slight but sharp pain in my side. Exhaustion maybe, I shrug it off and trudge on. I begin to let my mind wander back to what happened in the diner. It was the most petrified I have ever been in my whole life. What did this man want with me? The pain in my side grows stronger. I slow my step; this is more than just exhaustion. With my free hand I clutch my right side. I begin to cough, nothing at first, but steadily more violent. I stop and collapse to the ground in my coughing fit. I pull back my hand and see blood on it. I’m in trouble. I try to push myself off of the ground to no avail. This is bad. I try harder to push myself up off the sandy gravel that lay beneath me and halfway up everything goes black. I collapse. I feel nothing but pain then I feel nothing. The last thing ever heard by Will was whistling.

Parting Ways (Part 2)

The long road through hell gets no easier. My breath becomes quick short gasps as if planet earth didn’t have a big enough supply of oxygen. I look up at the relentless bully called the sun and I wish to God I could fight back. I look back down and I see it; the building that could potentially hold my salvation about one hundred yard away. A big, bright blue sign that hung above it said simply, “Millies” as if that was all you needed to know about the place. I walk up to the featureless white building and survey the scene. A dead garden that may have once been beautiful now only decayed in the also dead wind. It was almost as if the place had once flourished with life and was blown away by a nuclear blast that had killed everything in its path. I sigh, hoping that there will be life forms inside the place that can help me with my problem. I push the door open and am immediately greeted by a blast of cool air that rushes to aid my body like a team of paramedics. I almost collapse of relief right in the doorway but regain my composure. The place has the look of those traditional split roadway stores. You know the ones with the restaurant on the left that has the overweight but sweet waitress who always thinks you look thin and the only cure is that you eat more food – Salesmanship at its finest. And on the right it has a store that has so much junk you don’t need for sale that you’d think they were in competition with Wal-Mart. I walk to the counter and am greeted by a pleasant looking (a.k.a. big and homely) lady in her mid-thirties. “What can we do for ya puddin’?” She says in a heavy southern accent. She shoots me a big homemade smile. I tell her I’ve just walked five miles and need some water. She gives me one of those feigned looks of horror as if she has never known people could walk distances longer than between the kitchen and the couch. She rushes me to a seat and brings me a pitcher of water. I tell her I’m ok I just need a few minutes. She tells me that I need to put some meat on my bones and suggests that I order the home-fried chicken fried steak. I smile to myself and tell her I’m ok for now. With another “puddin’” she walks off letting me know where to find her. I down another third of the pitcher of water and lean back to let the air-conditioning do its number on my sunburned body. I close my eyes and let my mind wander and there it is: that all too familiar sound that signals the entrance of that man in to my dreams. I start to hear the whistling.

The Man in the Black Trench Coat

His first full appearance that I remembered was that day at the crash and ever since then he has appeared to me in my dreams. Always statue still, always wearing that expression of reserved sorrow and always accompanied by that eerie whistling in the background as if it were his own personal theme music. He terrifies and angers me every time I see him. I know he has answers for the questions surrounding the crash. I know he knows something I don’t. I know he knows the things that I’m desperate to find out. Every time I sleep, he’s there waiting for me, like a teacher who is there for the student that tries so hard but just doesn’t understand what is being taught to him. Or like a serial killer waiting patiently for his prey to go right where he wants him. I can’t be sure. I can’t be positive about anything about the man in the black trench coat. I just know that he is not a natural being.

1 Year Ago

2:04 PM

The air was stale, stagnant as if nothing that occupied the space inside it did anything of value. How ironic, the air even reflected the truth. She went to the window and flung open the curtains to reveal a vast array of sunlight that cascaded over my sleeping body. I reluctantly stirred. I already had begun feel the headache coming on, that can only mean one thing – I had sobered up. I grunted and shielded my face from the onslaught of light. She was saying something, she’s not happy. Something about getting on with my life and I couldn’t wallow around like this. I wasn’t really listening. I wish I would have. Only one thing mattered: getting another drink in me so I could go back to sleep and demand answers from this man in the black trench coat. She sighed a sigh of giving up and headed for the door. I mumbled something that was supposed to be an “I love you.” And she shot me a look. God I should have paid attention to those pained looks! The looks that said “I’ve lost what I loved” but I didn’t pay attention. I just needed another drink so I could get back to sleep, back to discovering the answer to all the unsolved riddles. Why did God allow the bus to kill a bunch of teenagers going to worship him? Why did God allow the lives of kids to be taken at all? Does he even care about us? Why is God allowing me to be like this now? He never blinked, he never answered and he never opened his mouth. He just stood with a supernatural amount of patience as if waiting for me to figure it out on my own. I wasn’t figuring anything out and he wasn’t helping! So there I was screaming, cursing, crying. He just stood there. He didn’t move. He never moves. 

----

I open my eyes and blink to remind myself where I am. I flag down my waitress and order a piece of blueberry cobbler. She smiles a satisfied smile as if she knew that I would come around. “Have it right out for ya honey.” She says. Wow! Me ordering food upgraded me to “Honey” status in her mind. A few minutes later she returned with a piece of delicious smelling cobbler. As she set it in front of me I ask her if she knows of any mechanics around the area. She says her son is an experienced mechanic and he was out back and as soon as I was finished I could go talk to him. I thank her and resume eating my delicious dessert. My head was spinning from exhaustion. I tell myself that the day is far from over. I still need to get my car fixed and make it to my destination before nightfall. I finish my plate and stand up to make my way out back. I walk out back in to the heat and walk around back to where the garage was said to be. There I find a kid, no older than twenty years old and surprisingly clean cut and sharp looking, listening to his IPod and reading a magazine. I laugh at the irony of a kid living in the middle of nowhere even knowing what an IPod was. He sees me and stands right up as if he’d been itching for something to do. “Howdy there sir, ah sure hope there is something ah can do for you. Ah been bored outta mah mind sittin here reading this here magazine.” Ah, the powers of perception never fail. I tell him what had happened with the car. He asks me a few questions. He seemed to know what he was talking about. About fifteen minutes later he tells me that there is a part that my car needs and its about an hour each way to get it. I tell him I’ll wait in the diner. I’ve never seen someone more excited to get some work than this kid. He grins a huge grin, shakes my hand, and hops in his truck. I make my way back inside the diner, grab my familiar seat for whose table now had a fresh pitcher of water on it, and lean back again to rest…