deliberations on indecent past and future portents.

married man. new obligations, new objections. new fears, new promises. new paths unfolded. new roads discovered. i think i’m ready for the things that are coming my way, but i also taste that distinctive feeling of being open; to the possibility of being wrong, to the chance of being trampled. these thoughts are late in coming and i’m embarrassed by it but excitement is there, too. i’ll take a chance. work hard and see what happens. life is good.

i’m only protesting myself.

i dislike above all other dislikes that we throw our affection and our positive behavior (or anything resembling love); we throw it violently and with turbulence, like economics, and this spell is a downturn for sure with no outright, obvious, or otherwise discernible escape that would protect both you and me from the vicious, albeit self-inflicted give-and-take that has become us. the politics of the way that two people relate to one another, when taken at a glance or merely passed by, are not so worrisome that they are unmaintainable. however the mere glance doesn’t provide any amount of substantive material with which to gauge the level of change or repentance that this situation calls for, ouch! ;;; and if you filled up all these spaces with laughs you’d be drowning in the colorful warmth. body of water. here it comes, here it goes. the bottom line is that i try desperately to earn your love in the same way i tried to earn the love of my father, and you are every man i’ve ever met; full of pretension, arrogance, control and obsession with your own success. i cannot love you enough, but you will never love me at all.

private ownership.

i just want the courage to do something stupid and own up to it. publically, personally, intrepidly. as a person and most likely as a boy, i struggle with wanting to be more like batman than jonathan, more symbol of something great than walking manifestation of something broken. you can blame that on me or on my environment or on my development, but i know that it’s pretty much that way across the board. i generally wear two shoes, one on each foot, and when i shower, i turn the water on, rather than just leaving it off the whole time. i eat bread after the ingredients have all come together, not before. striving to be like someone else really is a lot like chariot racing with those sword-encrusted chariot wheels. you keep going out of spite but you realize that no matter what, you are losing some part of yourself to everyone else. flecks of personality and wood debris are everywhere and the end isn’t anywhere in sight. i spent three years of my high school experience wishing i was a man named cory, a man who seemed like somebody i would want to be like. but i thought instead of being like him, maybe i could just be him. that didn’t work, of course. i don’t want to be him anymore. but i have realized what ways i am like him. i have always hated men for the same reasons that my lesbian friends hate men. i feel like they’re damn good reasons. my father pushed me pretty far away from him for a long, long time, which made me push back. this started a cycle that has kept us far away from each other since i was three, since sitting at the edge of the pool with my bare legs splashing in the water and a root beer float in my hand. there hasn’t been a happier moment since, not since the space between the bathroom door and the wall (a space occupied by my head) was closed in on a fateful night that i can’t tear from my memory. damn, that vow of silence just broke. when i’m forty (i pray) i’ll look back on moments like those and remember to shut the fuck up. my cousin aaron always recounts the story of when his stepfather threw him through his bedroom wall into the hallway, and even as a sixteen or seventeen year old boy his only reaction was “dad, you just broke your house!” pointing out the absurdism of abuse doesn’t always work, but it silenced brett and maybe it will silence your demons even if those demons are your own father. i made myself a promise recently and i wonder if i will ever have to keep it (and i wonder what i’ll do if i ever see mr. schaefer again.) maybe i’ll want to fight him because of everything he’s done to his kids. the cops never did anything to stop him. more than likely i’ll just break down and cry. i walked from my house to my neighbor’s and spent two hours on the phone with a pastor who told me to be patient and bow my head in respect, and maybe that might work for some people but it didn’t work for me. the cops said i should play it cool, yeah, and try to see what happens, but i’m sorry, that was a pretty bad idea. and years ago, years ago i was pushed out of the community i trusted in and now i’m trying to graft myself back in and it isn’t working. do i just want love? when all the things that i think are cave-ins turn out to be just jailbreaks, will i learn to run free?

five dollars in my pocket.

better is one day there than a thousand similar days anywhere else, where your journey will take you, and will halt, seeking an end (or perhaps to just break from the patterns) bringing purpose, bringing meaning. when you work, you should probably be authentic even at the risk of emotional injury. if you put on a front, then at home, you are one person, and out in the crowd you are someone else, and i know both of you quite well. if you knew how important it is for you to serve, to be humble, the personality disaster that has been your life will look less like the french revolution and more like the red cross or a game of freeze tag; i know this story because it’s my story. put down your magic wand, child, and just look out at everything you have done so far; it’s not all bad. for example, (look at all the birds in your yard sometime. if you don’t have a yard, then find a park and sit for a while. just watch what they say to each other.) and then rest, but don’t pass away the days in a coma of quiet. sleep is just ritualistic behavior, a pattern that is easily broken when necessity demands. wake and look at what the earth is doing. if ellen degeneres can handle talking to kate hudson about her open relationship with her husband, and if you can handle your stomach while watching it, well, i guess nobody really has that much to complain about. i guess that’s what the end of the world looks like.

if somebody turned the lights on.

maybe mellow winds and a shallow place to splash my feet, maybe tan lines and scrapes on my palms from climbing empty buildings at night that at daylight fill with working people, busy people, maybe running away, maybe running towards, maybe the ever-filling sense of belief that most southern folk pronounce or maybe the delicious freedom of unabashed and unguided (though probably not), maybe blackberry sage tea and celery, maybe moccasins, indigo paint and sharpie tattoos, maybe footsteps approaching, maybe correctional meetings and parental consent forms, maybe obstruction of justice or terroristic threats, maybe laser eyes or tear-filled ones, remembering the days you just wanted somebody to listen to what you really wanted to say but couldn’t speak up long enough to keep pastor wayne’s attention, goodness gracious, “maybe it’s time for me to be leaving”, long days with static in one ear and chaos echoing out the other, your skull the tattered framework for a misguided missile into some well-meaning youths’ lock-in and a lecture on morality in the context of churchgoing. [you are illegal.] maybe the center of attention. maybe the spotlight. maybe the person looking on. finally, some resolution. regardless of what you are or where you came from, you look back on your education, your knowledge, the teachings that others poured into you, the influence, the lessons, and the wisdom imparted by anyone and anything, and you judge it against what you see and believe and know; maybe it’s off from what you believe everyone else should believe, but it’s wiser. you come to realize that all this silence and all this waiting around for truth is quite the chance for you to adopt a new appreciation for the stillness and the quaking beauty that remains.

i like the places where the night does not mean an end.

thank you mother nature how you forbade all the simplest interruptions just to pervade the reality you proposed with a delicious concoction of self-righteousness! to the people who follow you, the imposed following the imposing, i just want to say this, that you are celestially ignorant if you do not think of that man’s behavior in the context of reality, that you break down what you know and contrast it against what has already been said and done. shame that you would be so convinced that nothing was up, so sure of yourself and so sure of him. the danger of people who want to see some certain thing in others is that they always find a way of seeing that thing they are looking for. clap your hands for injustice one more time, just one more time, and maybe promotion and magazines and flashy lights and business degrees will make more sense. maybe we’ll finally make everyone proud of how we followed in their footsteps and made ourselves just as successful as they were. fuck intellectual pursuit and fuck thinking for yourself. the pride i get from being able to put my own dreams aside would just overwhelm me you know. overwhelming chaos is just another way of explaining what’s going on when one person decides they know what terms like “right”, “absolute”, “freedom”, and “true” mean, exactly, and everyone else’s definitions become slightly less valid for no apparent reason. that’s okay. everyone is entitled to the freedom to hold opinions, even crazy ones, but you’re not free to hold the opinion that the opinions of others are invalid, or will walk them hand in hand to the gates of hell. freedom is the ability to pursue your dreams without encroaching on the freedom of others to do the same. overwhelming chaos is the noise of defeat crying out like a victorious melody. and my heart’s alone in a dark room. “you were too busy steering the conversation toward the lord to hear the voice of the spirit begging you to shut the fuck up.” i don’t know if a person’s low self-esteem is spurred mostly by someone’s expectations of them remaining unmet, or if the person just thinks that someone else is disappointed in them. maybe that sense of disappointment is enough to make anyone give in to pressure but i’m not too embarrassed to say you still make me feel like a failure, though i don’t mind anymore, and no longer want to tell your kids that i feel sorry for them. i think that i run the risk of blaming you for all the injustices i see in this world, and for that (and only that) i really am sorry.

yes, but what kind?

there are men in this world that i am not like, and there are men in this world i want to be like, but rarely do i meet men who i am already like. perhaps, and this comes to mind first, i am in a state of tense transition, and will soon come to resemble someone other than myself. yet, as i ponder this, i know it is not the case. i will, as an individual, only continue to grow more fully into the person i have always been. i am not a fighter, though i will fight for the safety of my beloved and our life together. i am not a dancer, though i will find myself dancing. i am not a quiet man, but i find myself often in an inexplicable and content silence. what kind of man any man can be is a question that still haunts me; my role models, as i’ve said so many times, have all failed me, and i say this not for pity but to express the point that, if one composed a list of all the persons ever to have been admired (and subsequently grown away from as a result of disappointment) in their lifetimes mine would surpass it with ease, and with only a few years’ experience and nothing much to show for it but a successful attempt, thus far, at making one’s own way. i can thus learn from the mistakes of great men in history, of my uncles and grandfathers and my own father, and elders, pastors, teachers and policemen. i can show weakness, exhibit sensitivity, and express love, rather than following the same path that has already been carved into the palms of history, one of arrogance, bigotry and insecurity masked by competitive self-celebration and the pursuit of self-pleasure. i want always to choose the first, and never the second. i want this to be an evolution of gender, and i hope and wish that i will see it grow in my peers who are male. i hope men will learn to fight for things that will last. i hope they will spread their arms in good will towards opposition. i hope that i shall remember all these things when the years linger and fade. i am not a fighter, but i will fight for my beloved.

backlash; consequences.

why do I have such a strong desire to vent my thoughts & feelings on the internet? there are a hundred safer places to jot thoughts down and most of them are free of backlash and consequences. it isn’t wise to tell the whole internet community that you hate your job. as soon as your boss reads your facebook notes, he’s going to decide it’s time to let you go. so why do i tend to want to write my frustrations in a public place before thinking it might possibly be safer to write them down on a piece of paper, to be buried safely under a pillow or a rock?

i’m frustrated. there you go. i am not going to say anything else. this way i can indulge myself but i don’t have to be specific. risk sucks. it’s times like these that make me think of fishing.

catching something cool and pretty but throwing it back and walking away.

realizing you’ve accomplished nothing.

w00t.

memories.

This evening I browsed through a few hundred pictures I took during High School, and was wafted with a veritable smothering of memories. Pictures do that to me; they make me remember exactly how it was that I felt at the moment of the shutter’s click, and it becomes a feeling, one that quakes in me, entirely impossible to forget. In many ways it makes me miss the country, and the daily opportunity I had to explore, to wander, to get lost in fields and unpaved territory. I know that I want a place like that to be part of my near future, as living in a mid-town area in a bustling city isn’t always good for the nurturing of the soul, or the building of self-esteem.\

I now quote myself, somewhat haphazardly:

“Apparently, having low self-esteem is the thing to do these days. I’ve discovered that it’s everybody’s goal in life to deflate the egotistical and inflate the insecure. It’s odd, given the fact that both extremes are, more often than not, merely ploys. But I find my hypothesis confirmed. I tried to wallow in my own self-pity this week. Guess what–it worked. Then I tried being arrogant, and I was subsequently deflated. Another interesting social discovery, I suppose.”

growing pains.

You and I have heard so many stories told, and I’m afraid I’ve run out of room in my brain to fill them all and it would seem that you have as well, which puts us back at square one – not a bad thing, really, just an oddity, an ironic fluctuation of your creativity and my speaking skills or lack thereof in both and with that I am satisfied in saying that connection is something that most people desire more physically than food, more passionately than love, more desperately than air, and more “under-distance-and-duress” than the farthest interstate or landmark or historical place that reminds people of…other people…and everybody wants to be reminded of other things, and find connection with other things, and when we have lost connection it feels like pretty much everything is ridiculous and stale and all the things that used to be wonderful are dry and tasteless and lame – what do you do then and where do you get connection again and how can you find what you’re looking for when you don’t know what it is and everybody says a different answer?

Good to know.
Connection.
Good to know.