Between You and Me...

Goodbye.

2010-07-14T08:38:00.000-07:00

I wish you luck.
I harbor no ill will.

I have long since forgotten what it was like to be your friend.
I have long since forgotten what it was like to love you.

I no longer keep any reminder of what was, because what IS is what matters.

I am ready. I am open. Without you, I am free.

I suppose in a twisted way, I owe you thanks.
Thank you for behaving the way you did. I came out stronger and proved to myself yet again that not you, not anyone will break my faith or my belief that my spirit cannot be broken.

Thank you.

I am at peace. I am whole. I sincerely hope you will someday find the same.

I briefly want to say...

2010-07-14T08:20:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been a while. While writing is one of the things I love most, I find it also one of the more difficult things for me to do. I feel the constant need to write, but I cannot just write. It must have meaning. It must come from the depths of me. It must send a message. I haven't really had much of that in me as of late, and when it comes, I find myself overwhelmed and unable to focus on one topic at a time.

Much has changed over the past year. Much indeed. It's inevitable. We live, we grow, we evolve.
I'm still in the small country town I was in last year, far removed from the disappointment that my life in the city had left me with. I'm stronger here, at least for the time being, surrounded by people who love me. Family in every aspect.

I'm back to work. Loving my job. Proving to the world that I am indeed the best man for the job.
Challenging and rewarding.

I have everything I need.

Life is good.

2009-08-23T04:30:00.001-07:00

It is clear to me that my home in Milan is known as "that house," much the same way a small town would refer to a house on a hill as the haunted house or "that house." From the street, it looks like something you'd see in a horror flick, it's very shape and pale brown color give it a seriously sinister facade. I kind of like it.
Being a small town, a very, very small town, people talk. Any addition to the community seems to go noticed by all. Here I am. Milan. The guy in "that house."

The goal? Rehabilitation. Of me? Of the house? Yeah. It's promise is one to be a labor of love and a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears. This place either needs work or it needs a well placed magnifying glass and a can of gasoline on a sunny August day. I choose the former.

With the departure of her last tenants, so went the water heater in what we will call unit A, as well as all of the copper piping. Leaving substantial damage. The walls need to be replaced as do the ceilings, floors and fixtures. The wiring is questionable at best, but I needed a project.

Sub-floor, tile and water heater in unit A- Done. Painting of the living room in unit-B- Done.

Today is moving day. Wish me luck and I'll keep you posted.

Valentine's Day 2007

2009-07-09T15:42:00.000-07:00

Monday, February 12, 2007

My phone is always within hear-shot
At constant touch if silent
Ready for a call from you or everyone else
You’d think things have calmed down by now
You’d think the dust would settle

I still can’t see my hand at my face

Not that I would need eyes to see you
Or ears to hear your voice
Your scent
Your rhythm

We just know

Is it wrong to talk about such things so soon?
It is taboo to talk about the future with only countless I love you’s tallied
Taboo to talk about children?
And how they will have Mohawks and tiny leather jackets?
Aviator shades and the combined attitudes of their fathers?
Your temper?
My cool?

Talks about how I’ll get a call from the neighbors when I get home from work
Saying that dad and the little ones were once again up to no good
I’ll go over there and fix their window
No TV for them
No me for you
Not tonight
I’m tired from work and fixing that goddamn window
You owe me a backrub anyway

If this dust should ever settle
If our path finally or suddenly becomes clear to us
We just might find that
In vision granted
We’ll be exactly where we needed to be

And if it doesn’t
I would willingly wander aimlessly blind, deaf and disoriented
So long as I know that it’s your hand I feel
Holding mine

Balloon Project: We Have Lift-Off

2009-07-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

225 Red Balloons. I found that putting the message IN the balloon was better. It would/will keep the message dry without the added weight of the plastic bag. I am a little worried that I won't get the response, but we'll see. Like a message in a bottle, but in a balloon. I'll keep you posted.

Life takes some unexpected turns. It will knock you down. It will fool you into making choices that you will wish you hadn't made. Life is a prankster.

I can't lose sight either, of the fact that Life is also wise. It is kind and it is giving. It gives second chances. I loves people who have faith.

Have a cornucopia of things going on here as of late. Personal stuff that makes me weary and tests my resolve.

I am in love. Always will be.

That's all I have for now, but I promise I'll be back with something worth-while soon enough.

The Balloon Project

2009-07-01T03:39:00.001-07:00

Sometimes as adults we are inspired by the things we did as children. Such is the case with the Balloon Project.

I will be sending hundreds of messages, each one containing not only it's individual message, but a piece of a puzzle and a link to here, up in balloons. Hundreds of balloons, each one carrying a piece of me.

What I get back will be interesting. It may compose a poem, a story, maybe just a series of random postings. I won't know, until I compile and post.

I know full well that what is sent out will not all return, but I would like to see what does come back and how it comes together.

I'll keep you posted.

Sometimes life is an asshole.

2009-06-13T19:37:00.000-07:00

Sick and tired of being sick and tired.

So very sick. So very tired.

Life stands still.

Expect to see more here soon.

very soon.

2009-05-18T15:25:00.000-07:00

No matter what he has done. No matter what between us transpired. No matter the truth in it's dual-sided entirety. I love him. My love is true. Always has been.

In Disgrace

2009-05-10T16:07:00.000-07:00

The trouble with trust, is that once broken, you will always and forever be guilty, no matter what.

I did a terrible thing. It broke his trust.

I stand now accused of other crimes the nature of which I am not privy to.
The trouble with trust is that once broken, you will always and forever be guilty.
I don't even care to defend myself.
I don't even want to.

He needs what he needs. He wants what he wants.
I will, as I have always done, love him enough to give him what he wants.

Neither of which, is me. Neither of which is my love.
He will move on. He will forget the love that was there.
He will survive.
He will live a long and full life, with love and happiness around him.

He will forget the love story.
The tiny moments will fade, the memory will disappear.
The whispers before bed, the mumm and rar, will never come from him again.
He will forget me.

There will be no treasure map to save us.

Someone will come. Someone he will love. It won't be me.

I know how it will work for him and I know how it will work for me.

I will not love again.
I will forever remember every day. I will remember every hour and every physicality.
His eyes, the beautiful eyes that saw me with such love.
Every memory is etched in not only my mind, rather my very being.
I am of emotion. It is who I am.
I will hear his voice and shun happiness.
I will know what was to have loved pure.
I will strike out angered by love.
Marred by her diseased sense of humor.

I will lay my head nightly only to hear
him call me his forever baby. To hear his words in the darkness when I am alone.

I will always love Jonathan. I will always love no other.
I know it sounds incipid. Dramatic.
Believe me, it is indeed the truth.
A truth I'd rather not live to suffer.

They say time heals all wounds.
They don't know me. They don't know what it is to love.
I know time will pass. I know the initial pain will subside.
I know day to day will resume.
This I know.
I also know that each and every one of those days,
the days for the rest of forever, I will think of him.
I will spend longing for him.
I will spend begging Heaven.
It will move from the knife in my soul it is today to a spike in my heart,
a dull, aching pain of a wound that will not heal.
I'd rather not live to suffer that.

"There is no part of me that wants anything to do with you."

Love has taken him.
Is there no treasure map?

In The End Of All Things

2009-05-10T15:46:00.000-07:00

I am nothing now.

I have many questions to which I fear there will be no answer.
What happened to us? To the man I love so deep? To me?

I crowd my heart's hollow chambers with questions.
I have no answers.

I beg still for the sleep.

Death Shall Have No Dominion

2009-05-10T15:23:00.000-07:00

There is nothing now but silence.
Deafening, maddening silence.
I weigh in my head many a thought, an angle.
I bang my head against the rocks looking for answers.

Love has taken everything, leaving me to suffer in the wake of her mighty withdrawal.
Time has impaled me upon his mighty spear. Neither leaves room for forgiveness of transgression. Neither is as iron as once promised.

How do you go from where we were, born centuries ago to love, pure and biblical to where we are today?

There was a time when I believed in love. When I believed the great words of the poet, when Shakespeare knew everything. There was a time it seemed the great love stories were told in anticipation of my love for him, his for me; told in reflection.
I don't believe in Love, in Her anymore as savior, bringer of light. I believe now that she is a demon, sent to tempt us with her promises of unending days in goodness spent. That she will twist the truth, make it her own and as a sword bring it down upon the necks of us all. We are pawns that, once marked, never again to fall into grace.

Today, there is only silence. Deafening, hardened silence.
I long for the Sleep. I beg to be taken.

2009-05-04T06:37:00.000-07:00

The Sleep doesn't come.

I beg for mercy, knowing time will bring but temporary relief.

I am ruled by my emotions. So much so that rational thought and judgement leave me.

What relief will come in time?

No matter the temporary joy of futures brought,

I will always be him. He and he alone to bring light,

to bring fire.

He will never come. I will never live.

I should never love.

Love's the great deceiver.

She gives, at a price.

She gives to take away when interest has occurred.

She clears rationale from me, leads me to foolishness.

Love laughs in my face. She has abandoned me.

Her whispers in the night,

pushing memory upon memory into my sleepless night.

She is the trickster by which I fell. She will claim her dominance,

Her omnipresent power over me, over this, to watch me crumble.
To watch me die.

2009-05-03T16:02:00.000-07:00

There are no more tomorrows.

Forever has left, shame has slammed the door.

I am a fool, having nothing, deserved of nothing.

Life, you can take no more.

2009-04-28T07:18:00.000-07:00

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE
1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's!!
First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant.
They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-base paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had baseball caps not helmets on our heads.

As infants & children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes.
Riding in the back of a pick- up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and no one actually died from this.
We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And, we weren't overweight. WHY?

Because we were always outside playing...that's why!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.
No one was able to reach us all day. And, we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride them down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
We did not have Play stations, Nintendo's and X-boxes. There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms.
WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.
We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and, although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.
We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them.

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment.
Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever.
The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.
If YOU are one of them? CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our livesfor our own good.
Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it ?

2009-04-14T14:28:00.001-07:00

Lost. Lonely.

When the whole thing began, I was wanted. I was wanted and I was loved.

It's painful when you find out that you are no longer adored.

It hurts even more when you realize you are no longer desired.

It is unbearable to feel un-loved.