—LOVE LIES BLEEDING IN MY HEART

  

(It’s a busy week coming up. Wicka wicka, what? So here’s a rare early Monday post from my weekend's middled head.)

 

…Pretty sure I was the first person up on the lake today, yesterday, and the day before that, and the year before that, and the other year no one seems to remember anymore.

 

…Do I really dress like Mr. Rogers?  Like, really?

I suppose I do.

 

…“We have a lot to be grateful for,” is a nice enough sentiment, but not what you want to hear when you’re thinking the world’s ending and there’s no way out and you just want someone to hug, commiserate or scream with.   

 

…That scar’s going to be there for a while. Maybe forever.

 

…The word “genius” gets thrown around a lot, but Jeff Lynne is most definitely one. And so I wonder why more people don’t know that.

 

…I’ve been sitting here in this office for 16 years, drinking Ice’s, (carbonated water) which are long, thin, bone-shaped things, and easily toppled, yet I haven’t ever knocked one over. Then Saturday, I reheated my coffee, not once, but twice, and somehow I managed to dump the entire cup over the papers on my floor, which are/were essentially a glossary of my entire writing history—pieces published and everything I’ve written since 2009. For a few minutes, I was pretty pissed and depressed, but after I wiped things down and pulled off the clammy paper sheets, I realized it’s time to clean my work space, type up everything, and stash it in the cloud, wherever the fuck that is.

 

…1,264 pieces published somehow. That’s a Wow, even for me. 

 

…I don’t hate anyone, other than two people, or three, if you consider Satan a human.

 

…Maybe it’s inevitable…

 

…The key is knowing when to go to bed, and doing it promptly.

 

…If you continue to root for a suck-ass team for many years, that says a lot about you, though I haven’t entirely figured out what that is.

 

…It’s really beautiful here at night, with the sunset rimming the tree tops, a golden prism hugging everything. So, why do I feel depressed?

 

…“He’s been well-used.” I’m not sure if that’s something I’d like said about me.

 

…It’s hard to be a human. So much to put an answer to.

 

…You can only be told Goodbye so many times before you actually believe it, and then feel utterly foolish.

 

…I’m on a local area chat site. It’s a bit different than the local NYC chat sites. This was one of today’s posts:

Connie and Rick live on Nevers Rd. They're chicken coop roof was torn off and 6 chickens killed . This happened last night .

 

…I’m well aware of how lucky I’ve been, and still am.

 

…The person who picks up is the person you know you can count on.

 

…When I’m on the floor, this is typically the song I play to pull me up:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2h82Wevk11s&list=RDGMEMHDXYb1_DDSgDsobPsOFxpA&start_radio=1&rv=vk6014HuxcE

 

…When I need to remember why I love art, I usually watch this masterpiece (forget about hating on KW, and just appreciate it):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bm5iA4Zupek&list=RDGMEMHDXYb1_DDSgDsobPsOFxpA&index=2

 

…Ultimately, like everyone else, I just want to know you actually cared like you swore you did.

 

…Where the hell is Jill? (Wait, what? She finally showed up!!)

 

…“It’s pledge time!” That’s the message my phone sends me every morning now (Thanks, Rorry.)

 

…I love Stevie, but it’s crazy how much I still miss Lucy.

 

…It’s amazing how often I say, “What the fuck?”

 

…We all want something beautiful. Man, I wish I was beautiful.

 

…WWMD? “What would Mom do?”

 

…That’s a really good question to ask yourself.

 

…Please be smart, and never, ever, read this.

 

…Wherever you are, I’ll be sure to let you know.

 

…I’ve got a tear in my eye. I tell you I’m tired, but I’m not tired. 

 

…Hey, I get having a different point of view. But this is different. None of it makes sense to me. It’s like half the world believing the world is flat, or that global warming is a hoax, that the extermination of the Jewish people in Germany way. Trying to explain otherwise is akin to telling a person with dementia that you’re actually their offspring while they think you’re their neighbor who died years ago and has come back for a quick chat. 

 

…I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to win. I just want to be loved, despite my many flaws.

 

…Some people balk if you ask to have their pic taken with you, but to my mind, you can’t ever have enough photos.

 

…I’m just thinking out loud here.

 

…It’s just a silly phase I’m going through. 

 

…I wonder why I wish I could get paid most every day.

 

…If my kids had their way, they’d go to a concert every day. Seriously.

 

…I know I over-value things, but at this point, what’s a guy to do?

 

…Don’t you think I would, if I could?

 

…“The dregs are the worst part, but also the best.”

It’s funny the things you remember, but a truer statement was never said.

 

…After “GIRLHOOD,” I see things a lot differently.

 

…What does it mean when you go around the table, the question being, “What was the best part of your day?” and you’re completely stumped?

 

…It’s really creepy when it’s barely dawn and you hear a woodpecker drilling into your stucco.

 

…Same as hearing gunfire across the lake.

 

…The best post I read Saturday night: “Hey, you can always try again, buddy.”

 

…This was probably second-best (his son is named Ever): 

“Ever was eating chocolate the other day and he said, ‘My pronouns are Her/Shey’.”

 

…Sinead’s song, “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” and the video for it, have to be one of the greatest pieces of art ever, especially considering how prescient she was about the Catholic church. And nowadays, well…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhfATC9baPo

 

…“You look like you’ve been crying. Have you?”

 

…Yay!  I’m rich!  I made another $0.41 on book sales the other day. Don’t believe me? I’ll screen shot it for you.

 

…“It’s the right night, with the wrong company, and there ain’t nothing to look at. Every shadow’s getting famous.”

 

…It was 8 years ago Tuesday that I hit my 1,000^th publication. What an old Fucker.

 

…You said it was dangerous after Sunday.

 

…Here’s a question I’ve asked myself a million times, or more: If you write a book, and like, 12 people read it, what’s the point? 

 

…But don’t get me wrong—I’m still incredibly grateful.   

 

…You shouldn’t be here if you can’t stand maudlin confessions.  

 

…Some song lyrics can be really idiotic, but if they have the right chorus, hook, and bridge, well, you get over it. Case in point: Exile’s, “I Wanna Kiss You All Over.”

 

…I wonder why I dislike food so much. 

Oh yeah, now I remember.  

 

…I can change, I can change, I can change.

 

…I really admire people who can build and fix things, or people who can write funny stories that don’t sound hackneyed, or people who can write a happy ending that doesn’t seem Hallmark. Essentially, I admire anyone who isn’t anything like me.

 

...Something I just learned: 2,272 out of every 100,000 Black men are incarcerated compared to just 392 out of every white men.

 

…Things I probably do too much: Think. Read. Chew. Worry.

 

…Never join a neighborhood social network group if you don’t want to hear oodles of needless bitching.

 

…People are awfully self-righteous on social media. It’s one of the main things that turns me off of it.

 

…I get people are lonely and needy. I’m both of those often. But flaunting it seems like a form of self-righteousness. Then again, perhaps I’m just being a dick and the people who do it really need an affirmation to make it through. 

 

…It’s the same routine, scene by scene. Look me in the eye, are you not bored?

 

…I remember being fifteen, on the school bus, the first time I heard “Lovin’ You” by Minnie Riperton. She had this miraculous, rare five-octave vocal range. I recall it was sunny, much like today. I was sitting in the back-bus row by myself, which was a lucky thing, because I pressed my face to the window and cried until the song was over.

 

…A lot of people eat when they’re lonely. What I do is shop.

 

…I’ve shopped a lot lately.

 

…The city never sleeps. Better slip you an Ambien. 

 

…“Walk a mile in my shoes,” is pretty sage advice. It’s something John said to a group of us years back. He wasn’t speaking of himself. He meant, before you judge, try to understand what the other person has had to endure. I need to do that a lot more.

 

…I miss John everyday.

 

…It’s really difficult to explain what I do all day and not sound like I’m a slacker who should be on the streets, panhandling.

 

…It’s funny the things that will inspire you, if you let them.

 

…To a certain extent, maybe we’re strangers after all.

 

…I’m certain people feel this same way about me, but sometimes I’ll read a poet’s work and I’ll want to scream about how awful it is. Poetry, in so many ways, is a conundrum. 

 

…When I was in high school, my best friend and I had a massive crush on this woman who worked the cosmetics counter for a nearby store (Was it Macys, Sears, JCPenney’s? I dunno.) She was stunning. A mannequin really.  Meticulous down to her apricot-colored toe nails. And unapproachable. 

Still, we’d drive out of our way, a couple of times a week, just to browse her counter, never once saying a word while we were there.

That can be seen as romantic, pathetic, or a form of patriarchy—I dunno—but it happened.

 

…“Do I scare you?”

 

…It’s hard to believe I once owned a boat, like a boat with a motor.

 

…I don’t have idea why I remember this, but I do—Hillary Clinton saying, “Bill has beautiful hands. Really beautiful. I actually fell in love with his hands first.”

 

…It’s really hard to know what to say next once you’ve said the wrong thing, or the worst thing possible.

 

…I sure hope things are different by the time I post this. We’ll see.

 

…You might think I’m delirious…