Forces of Nature

I’m feeling a bit like toasted crap on a cracker these last few days. Spurred by the passing of Carrie Fisher and in true ‘I am an adult’ fashion I decided to rewatch Star Wars and Carrie Fisher’s Wishful Drinking yesterday. Continuing the trend, I read her book of the same title and am watching Empire and Jedi which should end just as 2017 hits. For the record, 2017 hit just as Luke was lighting Anakin’s funeral pyre. Perfect.

Watching Jedi, there’s something that is annoying me about the storyline now that I don’t think ever has in the past. Luke tells Leia who she really is and instead of training her and taking on Vader together, he’s off to take on Daddy Darth alone. So much for power in numbers.

I’ve been really hit by the passing of Carrie, she was an enjoyable presence for me anytime she showed up on film. She seemed a kindred spirit, I only much later came to understand the many layers of why.

I probably could have powered through hanging out last night but my head feels like a bowling ball and my heart…well it hurts. The past two years have been so trying for my parental and personal health that I am struggling even this morning to find that silver lining in it all. Especially as SHE is telling me over and over ‘see, it didn’t matter at all that you weren’t there. you see how easy everyone keeps moving without you?’ She’s a liar, and I know that, but she’s a loud little bitch when there’s a little FOMO in the air.

My head feels big, is it big? Ugh, fucking cold why you gotta hit me when I’m on vacation. Such a dick move.

What I meant to say in all this before I got tired and went to bed and gave up after the layer of why comment is that despite not knowing them personally, we all attach some level of understanding and kinship to the people we admire. For me, especially lately, the people I admire are my fellow depression-eers. Like a little micky mouse club of fucked up neurons. Helps to know I’m not alone, and that there is a great deal of our clan that write to soothe the savage beast within.

That’s what I want back in my 2017, I want my words back. That’s been a struggle for so long now that I have to just do it. Just write. Even if it’s total shite, get something out. On paper, in 1’s and 0’s, it really doesn’t matter. I just need to do it.

Someday my words will be all that is left of me, I want to make sure they say something accurate, funny, and true. Sometimes if you have the right perspective even the worst moments apply.

I hope Josh wakes up soon, his presence and first hug and kiss of the year will make her shut up a little bit. For a little while anyway.

D-Day Part 3

Today is one of those days I wish Facebook had an option to not allow comments. I didn’t say what I did for anyone but you. Maybe it was better put here but there is that little social nuance that comes with having a dead friend. Expectation might have been a better word there but you get me. If I say nothing, am I an asshole? If I say something that has meaning to only a few it invites jokes and questions that are inappropriate and force me to have those conversations of why I posted what I did in the first place. Followed by inevitable apologies and rehashing all the why.

Fuck it, I thought it was an appropriate in thing to do. Just as much as including some binary in my tattoo if I stop dragging my damn feet will be. That’s my little nod to you, to the computery nerds that we are and the people we wanted to be.

The world keeps turning, but it will never be the same. There’s a dark corner of my mind that realizes how easy it is for things to keep spinning after a loss, and that little bitch can sod right the fuck off today. Things do keep spinning but it’s far from easy. Some days are a whisper, some days are ear bleeding decibels to my fragile little heart.

This year in particular there have been moments I’ve just wanted you to exist in a tangible way again. Purely selfish ones, when I wanted an Aaron hug or laugh to stave off the pain of what was going on for a minute. Funny too how many moments I wanted you to exist were perfectly mundane and ordinary, just with a tinge of ‘man, he’d love this’ or ‘I wonder what he’d say about this’.

There’s still some Inigo left in me – I want my friend back you son of a bitch. Always find it amusing I want a ‘god’ to exist just to have something to be mad at that has a face instead of the reality of the nothing.

Well now I’m just thinking about Artax drowning in the mud and fuck balls did not need that today.

All this is to just say that I miss you and I’m annoyed by the expectations and obliviousness of the world as per usual. So, yeah.

Hello Darkness My Old Friend

Dawned on me that I did actually make all those old letters to you public, for whatever that’s worth. Been awhile, which it really hasn’t considering how many mornings I sing in my car or talk to the air like it’s you. Songs are getting a little bit easier to take but there’s some bands I still instinctively skip. Just can’t take it yet.

Conversations with M lately on all things worldly harken back to many a conversation on the floor in the old apartment in the wee hours. Once you were really my friend too, not just that guy I knew. So often lately I have been wishing so hard that you were in the midst for our conversations, knowing you would have your views and that they’d be fantastic in one way or another.

I remember so clearly that first year after you were gone. How many people would tell me it gets easier and all those little lies we tell ourselves to survive. I nearly fired my therapist for suggesting that I ‘let you go’. That struck me as such an insult at first, but given the complete breakdown I had just had in her office I can understand why that would be the suggestion made. Letting go, accepting is supposed to be end goal of grief I guess. Thing is, that’s not how I roll. Acceptance to me feels like forgetting and I refuse to forget you. I listen to the few voicemails and videos I have of you when I need to hear your laugh. Those are precious commodities to me now in a way I never anticipated. Sometimes just those few words, hearing you say my name is exactly what I need to not throw in the towel.

I’m trying to be brave. I’m trying to live. If not for me, I guess I do it for you. I realize how hopelessly romantic that sounds (not in a creepy way, whatever there’s love in friendship so the fucking cliche works).

Maybe this is the practice I need to start? Just stream of consciousness to you like I do in the car? Better than not writing at all, even if it is useless bullshit.

Miss yer fuckin face, man. Miss yer brain. Miss ye.

Out of Practice

Like every muscle in my body that goes without purpose at times, my writing muscles feel oh so close to atrophy. What was once a respite, a release, writing has become an adversary. An enemy I cannot defeat. Each attempt to release my thoughts failing again and again.

I don’t think this was ever easy, I’d be lying if I said it was. I remember fighting with keyboards for years, only letting the ‘best’ pieces grace the 1’s and 0’s of the information superhighway. Pages and pages of scribbles paint pathetic pictures of my life in stages.

I have to do this in practice again or I will lose what little ability I have remaining. The thoughts remain the same, but the fingers cannot grace the keys in the same pitter patter as they once did. The flourish and rhythm once music to my ears. Tap, tap, tap and out come a fraction of the ponderings held up in my cranium.

I so wish that I could get that power back, but has it been too long since this was my go to? Is that why now what could be done in mere minutes takes close to an hour? Pausing over and over because the words simply don’t come anymore.

So many things I haven’t written about because the thought of having those moments solidified in writing seemed too much. Writing them down makes them no only real, but then leaves the burden of proof on me. How do I give proper description to some of these moments that seem to defy description to me entirely despite that I lived them and can see them in my mind almost as clear as the moments they first took place. Do I avoid writing them so that I don’t have to remember them two fold? So I don’t have to answer the questions, or is it just the eyes I want to avoid. THOSE eyes, the peering eyes I never wanted on my words but happily imbibed them anyway. Judging me more, giving more fuel to the belief structure that seems to permeate my DNA.

Going to have to do this little by little, maybe even day by day before it’s something more than drivel. Get the craft back, then write about the things that actually matter.

Where Do We Go From Here?

I’ve spent so much of the last week and a half adding paragraph upon paragraph to a draft I started post election. Pouring over the words again and again hoping to make something short, sweet, simple out of it to express my distaste for humanity and the glimmer of hope I am clinging to and trying to spark a fire from in others.

Hello, run on sentence, have we met? Clearly.

I’ve had some really wonderful and some rather surprising conversations as a direct result of current affairs. That excites this little infantile part of me that’s been missing conversation about the big things, the big thinks. Dear (possible) lord give me something more to talk about than the god damned weather and whatever shit happened on The Walking Dead this week! Granted, that is coming out of a girl that spends a great deal of her life listening to people talk into cameras on the internet, I get it. We all have our things, beebs.

All I can do, in however many years I have left on this earth is to try to be the best version of myself I can be. I want to experience, I want to learn, I want to grow. What I think makes me so gutted and angry about the current state of things (or at least that these things are given more attention right now) is that so many people don’t want that. So many people are content to be complacent in the world they live in. I want to believe it’s because they are uneducated or inexperienced or simply haven’t been granted the time and luxury that I have to do things on that level (Maslow is real y’all). Maybe? Maybe not? Maybe it is easier for people to just keep following the lifescript. Check off those accomplishment boxes like it really means anything to the earthworms and bumble bees.

I’m a dark ass cynic at heart, and with that it is extra difficult for me to find the silver lining. I so willingly seek the darkest parts of the world seeking to understand. Yet, I am so weak in that regard as well. What I seek to understand wounds me deeply. I cry reading words no one will ever know I’ve read but me. I cry for people I have never met. I cry for places I have never been.

The constant observer.

What these past few weeks have shown me is that I can’t make change by observation. Nut up or shut up, it’s time to do.

Be creative.

Use your words.

Use your voice.

Give your time.

Give your assistance.

Do something.

Or be nothing.

I am the monster

I can feel her creeping in again, and the question arises that always does – do I even bother keeping her at bay or do I let her in for awhile? Logically I should be calling/texting my therapist to make an appointment, but I hesitate. I haven’t had that option in the past and I’ve come through the other side relatively intact.

Something seems so clear to me at times when I should feel surrounded in love. Am I thing that has to die? Am I the thing that holds these people back from their true potential because I cannot reach my own? Am I the anchor that keeps you tethered to the past, the old version, the fail wheel?

I read Jenny and Wil and the words become a mantra as I try to break through the fog – “Depression lies, depression lies, depression lies”.

After all these years though, what remains so painfully true to me is that, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe not for me. I seem to be the most creative, capable version of myself when I’m clawing out of the well with her just a few feet beneath me and gaining.

Yet at these moments it is also so easy to add another tick-mark to the list of reasons why it’d be OK.

Look how happy they are, and you’re not part of that conversation

When’s the last time someone besides Marty/Josh/Brianna/Katie texted you when you didn’t text first

Dad’s right, you are a selfish little bitch

If they could survive Aaron, they sure as hell could survive you

Another week and you couldn’t be bothered to get the the gym? You’re pathetic

He doesn’t love you, you’re a convenience, you fucking idiot

You don’t deserve love

You deserve the judgmental eyes you disgusting pig

They don’t love you

They don’t love you

They don’t need you

You deserve to be alone


With me


I’m back, back in that same old groove…

There has been so much going on in my daily life the past year, I can’t fathom attempting to make something digestible here to even remotely come close to what I’ve felt. What I’ve witnessed. I’m not even entirely sure I want to.

What I do want and need to do is figure out what the point of this venture is going to be. Am I going to keep this at all? Will this, like all my other projects turn to internet dust?

As M and I venture further into this co-host world, I am met more and more with the reality that what I do day to day isn’t want I want to be doing ALL DAY, EVERY DAY. I miss being creative. I miss spending hours trying to craft a sentence in just the right way to pull at someone’s memory. I miss feeling like I was a part of a special little niche world. I miss running my Daria fan site. I miss talking about the pop culture things that I hold so dear and how they effect and act as a mirror to the real world – even if there’s vampires and monsters.

I want the fire back, but where do I start to get it?

Great Loves – a.k.a. Nostalgia Ink

I started a playlist project well over two years ago at this point I’ve entitled “Great Loves”. Here’s the snippet of journaling that spawned it, followed by some updated thoughts.

Thanks to social media I often find myself looking back in time wondering…was I the asshole? All those people that show up in my ‘you might know’ section on Facebook are like a knife at times.

Awhile back I started an entry to discuss how music is so entwined with emotion and memory for some. For me, it led to thinking about a song that I could associate to the ‘great loves’ of my life. That eventually spawned into a playlist now containing upwards of 100 songs, each very clearly tied to someone I have held affection toward at some point in my journey across this great big rock.

I initially started this project as a way to remember the people I have held romantic inclinations toward. Ultimately though I’ve expanded it to include the folks I have considered soulmates at one time or another on my path through this little garden of life.

As new songs enter my life, or old ones revisit thanks to a road trip I happily add minute after minute of other people’s words to that list. Each note pulling at the heartstrings of my past, sometimes bringing warmth to the chest or to the eyes.

I thought I’d share that list here from time to time, because I like having backups of my backups, really.

The Scratch 7 Year Bitch Viva Zapata!
Say Something (feat. Christina Aguilera) A Great Big World Is There Anybody Out There?
Whataya Want from Me Adam Lambert For Your Entertainment
Turning Tables Adele 21
Rumour Has It Adele 21
Everything Alanis Morissette So-Called Chaos
Head over Feet Alanis Morissette Jagged Little Pill
You Oughta Know Alanis Morissette Jagged Little Pill
Would? Alice in Chains Dirt
Back to Black Amy Winehouse Back to Black
Consider This Anna Nalick Wreck of the Day
Bleed Anna Nalick Wreck of the Day
Wreck of the Day Anna Nalick Wreck of the Day
Suckerpunch Bowling for Soup Let’s Do It for Johnny!
The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows Brand New Deja Entendu
Marry You Bruno Mars Doo-Wops & Hooligans
Leave a Trace CHVRCHES Every Open Eye (Special Edition)
Paper Boats (feat. Ashley Barrett) Darren Korb Transistor (Original Soundtrack)
Gypsy Bitch Devil Doll The Return of Eve
King of Brooklyn Devil Doll Queen of Pain
You Are the Best Thing and the Worst Thing Devil Doll Queen of Pain
St. Christopher Devil Doll Queen of Pain
Sparkle & Shine Econoline Crush The Devil You Know
Ex’s & Oh’s Elle King Love Stuff
Good Girls (from the “Ghostbusters” Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) Elle King Good Girls (from the “Ghostbusters” Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) – Single
Tiny dancer Elton John Greatest Hits 2003-2004
Good Enough Evanescence The Open Door
Call Me When You’re Sober Evanescence The Open Door
Stay With Me Finch What It Is to Burn
You’ve Got The Love [*] Florence + the Machine Lungs
Kiss With A Fist Florence + the Machine Lungs
We Are Young (feat. Janelle Monáe) Fun. Some Nights
Wicked Ways Garbage Version 2.0
Tell Me Where It Hurts (Orchestral Single Edit) Garbage Tell Me Where It Hurts
Tell Me Where It Hurts (Guitars Up Single Edit) Garbage Tell Me Where It Hurts
Control Garbage Not Your Kind of People
Queer Garbage Garbage
Sex Is Not the Enemy Garbage Bleed Like Me
Why Do You Love Me Garbage Bleed Like Me
Untouchable Garbage Beautiful Garbage
Because the Night Garbage Because the Night – Single
If I Lost You Garbage Strange Little Birds
Wondering Good Charlotte Young and the Hopeless
Dance Floor Anthem Good Charlotte Good Morning Revival
You Don’t Own Me (feat. G-Eazy) Grace Memo – EP
Last Night On Earth Green Day 21st Century Breakdown
Worry Rock Green Day Nimrod
Here’s To Us Halestorm The Strange Case Of [Deluxe Edition]
Colors Halsey BADLANDS (Deluxe)
Ghost Halsey BADLANDS (Deluxe)
Drive Halsey BADLANDS (Deluxe)
Hold Me Down Halsey BADLANDS (Deluxe)
Wicked Little Town (Reprise) Hedwig and the Angry Inch Hedwig and the Angry Inch (Original Cast Recording)
Wicked Little Town (Reprise) Hedwig and the Angry Inch – Original Broadway Cast Hedwig and the Angry Inch (Original Broadway Cast Recording)
The Long Grift Hedwig and the Angry Inch – Original Broadway Cast Hedwig and the Angry Inch (Original Broadway Cast Recording)
Sugar Daddy Hedwig and the Angry Inch – Original Broadway Cast Hedwig and the Angry Inch (Original Broadway Cast Recording)
Lips of an Angel Hinder Extreme Behavior
Better Than Me Hinder Extreme Behavior
Take Me to Church Hozier Hozier
I Love It (feat. Charli XCX) Icona Pop This Is… Icona Pop
Demons Imagine Dragons Night Visions [Best Buy Exclusive]
The Way I Am Ingrid Michaelson Girls and Boys
Love Interruption Jack White Blunderbuss
Love U Forever Jenny Lewis The Voyager
Slippery Slopes Jenny Lewis The Voyager
She’s Not Me Jenny Lewis The Voyager
Circle The Drain Katy Perry Teenage Dream
Teenage Dream Katy Perry Teenage Dream
Hot N Cold Katy Perry One of the Boys
Thinking of You Katy Perry One of the Boys
Waking Up in Vegas Katy Perry One of the Boys
I Kissed a Girl Katy Perry One of the Boys
Never Again Kelly Clarkson My December
Addicted Kelly Clarkson Breakaway
I Want You Kelly Clarkson All I Ever Wanted
I Do Not Hook Up Kelly Clarkson All I Ever Wanted
My Life Would Suck Without You Kelly Clarkson All I Ever Wanted
Yoü and I Lady Gaga Born This Way
Perfect Illusion Lady Gaga Perfect Illusion – Single
You Don’t Own Me (Single) Lesley Gore 20th Century Masters – The Millennium Collection: The Best of Lesley Gore
My Immortal Lindsey Stirling My Immortal – Single
Supernova Liz Phair Whip-Smart
Good Love Never Dies Liz Phair Liz Phair
Para-Noir Marilyn Manson The Golden Age of Grotesque
Through With You Maroon 5 Songs About Jane
The Sun Maroon 5 Songs About Jane
Tangled Maroon 5 Songs About Jane
Back at Your Door Maroon 5 It Won’t Be Soon Before Long
Can’t Stop Maroon 5 It Won’t Be Soon Before Long
Won’t Go Home Without You Maroon 5 It Won’t Be Soon Before Long
If I Never See Your Face Again Maroon 5/Rihanna It Won’t Be Soon Before Long [US Deluxe Edition] Disc 1
Dear Future Husband Meghan Trainor Title – EP
Sippy Cup Melanie Martinez Cry Baby (Deluxe Edition)
Cough Syrup (The Voice Performance) Melanie Martinez Cough Syrup (The Voice Performance) – Single
I’m the Only One Melissa Etheridge Yes I Am
End It on This No Doubt Tragic Kingdom
Don’t Speak No Doubt Tragic Kingdom
Ex-Girlfriend No Doubt Return of Saturn
Counting Stars OneRepublic Native
If My Heart Was a House Owl City Ocean Eyes
Walk of Shame P!nk The Truth About Love
Slut Like You P!nk The Truth About Love
True Love P!nk The Truth About Love
Just Give Me a Reason P!nk The Truth About Love
Leave Me Alone (I’m Lonely) P!nk I’m Not Dead
Glitter in the Air P!nk Funhouse
It’s All Your Fault P!nk Funhouse
Mean P!nk Funhouse
Crystal Ball P!nk Funhouse
Please Don’t Leave Me P!nk Funhouse
I Don’t Believe You P!nk Funhouse
Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off Panic! at the Disco A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out
Hallelujah Panic! At The Disco Death Of A Bachelor
I Caught Myself Paramore Twilight (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
Decode Paramore Twilight (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
Still Into You Paramore Paramore
Ain’t It Fun Paramore Paramore
The Only Exception Paramore Brand New Eyes
Because the Night Patti Smith Group Easter
Easy Lover Phil Collins Hits
1, 2, 3, 4 Plain White T’s Big Bad World
Erotic City Prince/Revolution The Hits/The B-Sides
Like a Friend Pulp This Is Hardcore
Stand By You Rachel Platten Wildfire
Under The Blacklight Rilo Kiley Under The Blacklight
Silver Lining Rilo Kiley Under The Blacklight
Bullet Proof Rilo Kiley Take Offs and Landings
Portions for Foxes Rilo Kiley More Adventurous
Does He Love You? Rilo Kiley More Adventurous
Living Dead Girl (Subliminal Seduction Mix) Rob Zombie American Made Music To Strip By
Toxic Rumer Willis Toxic – Single
What I See Serial Joe (Last Chance) At the Romance Dance
Unintended Serial Joe (Last Chance) At the Romance Dance
Silently Screaming Serial Joe (Last Chance) At the Romance Dance
Completely Serial Joe (Last Chance) At the Romance Dance
You’re Mine Sinomatic Sinomatic
Trippin’ on a Hole in a Paper Heart Stone Temple Pilots Tiny Music…Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop
Unglued Stone Temple Pilots Purple
Still Remains Stone Temple Pilots Purple
Wicked Garden Stone Temple Pilots Core
Mine Taylor Swift Speak Now (Deluxe Edition) (CD1)
Style Taylor Swift 1989
Wildest Dreams Taylor Swift 1989
Out of the Woods Taylor Swift 1989
I Just Wanna Be Mad Terri Clark Pain to Kill
Love Song The Cure Disintegration
Nothing Better The Postal Service Give Up
Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now The Starting Line With Hopes Of Starting Over
Strange Hellos TORRES Sprinter
Habits (Stay High) Tove Lo Queen of the Clouds (Blueprint Edition)
Moments Tove Lo Queen of the Clouds (Blueprint Edition)
Cool Girl Tove Lo Lady Wood
YOUTH Troye Sivan Blue Neighbourhood (Deluxe)



That was…interesting.

Hi friend.

So that was a weird experience I hope I don’t have to repeat for at least a decade. Seeing you in that medicated fog was the one silver lining of it all, that’s for sure. I just wish I could remember more than your face and the feeling of it all…

The Yellow Rose Withers

This has been a shit week. This is also going to be one of those stream of subconscious posts wherein I will contradict myself endlessly. Given the circumstances, I’m willing for forgive myself that humanity.

For the sake of my knowing what all this is about in 10 years (not the title shouldn’t make it obvious) I will say this much. Grandma M.

So much of my brain ends up with the same sentiment – what is the point? If this is the inevitable endpoint, are we all just so selfish and focused on our own moments we don’t care what happens at the end of everyone? The lack of compassion, the complete ‘who gives a fuck’ of all this angers me to no end. Everybody dies, not everyone apparently gets to do so with dignity or self intact.

My heart aches knowing full well that this is exactly the end she did not want. She was so at peace with going whenever the good lord would have her (her words). She was ready to be with her husband again, and simply wanted her body to expire, leaving us without becoming as she and so many others put it ‘a burden’. A human you love is never a burden. Not to me. Not as I dress you, and fight with you as you swear you are not in your own home in your own bed. You are not a burden, you are still my grandmother, even if your brain is playing keep away with that fact.

There’s so much about this process that is not known to anyone until the time comes where you have to know? Why do we refuse to talk about this, share knowledge about this. Feels very much that this is yet another instance in life where we like to put our fingers in our ears and claim ignorance of the reality we all face. The reality of what we all may experience multiple times as we ourselves age closer and closer to being the one on their way loose the mortal coil.

I simply want you to be able to pass without being in a place foreign to you and selfishly I cannot help but now want to ensure somehow that I myself do not meet a similar fate.

So many thoughts swirl as I now try to recall all the things I said when on the phone with M the other day. So many of the bingos I am given for not wanting children are swirling because in the end, you’re all alone. The anger and pain in my family because this that or the other person didn’t seem to care or arrive fast enough is ridiculous. The whole thing just makes me want to bitch slap everyone. All of this is not about you fuckers, it’s about her.

Who will take care of you?

The end is he end is the end, when you go perhaps is better left to your control to some extent. Maybe Aaron being gone so soon is for the better. The alternative of slowly expiring seems the crappier side of the coin.

Sometimes when you’re on…

My assumption is the increased Aztec sightings are your doing. As you do. Thought about spending my day with Izzard and random Netflix in your honor and ended up mostly internetting and knitting. Still counts, right?

I’m not sure I have a poetic anything left in me to share today, just wanted something akin to a hug in 1’s and 0’s to send to you I guess.


A post! A timely post!

Today on the interwebs, many ladies I love to read/watch are posting videos to their teenage selves under the hashtag #dearme. Within they answer a not so simple question – If you could go back in time and give your younger self some advice, what would it be?

Full disclosure, I haven’t actually watched any of these as I am at my place of work, but given the authors I have zero problem assuming that they will be brilliant, funny, heartwarming, and just generally amazing.

Felicia Day
Grace Helbig
Hannah Hart
Laci Green
Lindsey Stirling

Given these, I have to ask myself that very question. So, here’s my short because I’m only on lunch break answer. For better or worse.

Teenage T, you’re not a worthless chunk of human being. You are not unlovable. Your brain is going to tell you those things, and worse, for many years to come. Don’t believe it. You’re going to have your heart broken. More than once. You’re going to be angry, you’re going to say stupid things because you are angry. You will write things because you are angry that will both amuse and gut you to the core. This is kind of your thing. You will hide behind humor like a shield. The best people in the world will laugh at your terrible self-deprecating blend of words and carry on with you anyway. The world will be shitty. The world fucking sucks, dude, but you really will meet people who make it so much brighter than you know right now. Let people know you, the actual you. She is flawed, she is a walking contradiction, but she’s pretty awesome too. Make mistakes, ride the pain, strive to be better. Own your weird!

More later, work now…

525,600 Minutes

Well, here we are.

What I said this morning in social media realm wasn’t for me. Truth, yes, but it was the kindest way I could think of to say something and not expose more than needed to be said in such a public realm. This, since really only M even knows it exists. This…this is for me.

Fuck it.

I’m still angry, man. Less now at you for being simply a damaged, stubborn ass of a human being than angry at myself for not being a better human myself. Yet, if I’m really honest, it’s not like I’ve been a better friend since your parting…all my wishful thinking and bursting heartstrings falter when I actually have to take action. Better on the sidelines, Eeyore in the wings observing but never wanting to be a bother to anyone.

I want to be angry with God, but given I’ve never been certain of such a creature even that seems a fruitless venture. Really, if there was a God what could I question aside from why now? Why not when we’re in our 80’s? As if that loss would hurt any less?

Doesn’t matter when someone is taken from you, it only matters that they are taken. The piece still goes missing, the scars still have to form.

I want to help B so badly, but I don’t know that there is anything I can say or do to ease the struggle on that end.

We all just have to make our way I guess. Understand, we’ll go hand in hand but we’ll walk alone in fear.

I hate today. I hate it because for the vast majority of this day I was unconscious. If anything I’m pissed that in that space our consciousness didn’t get to meet one last time. Hearing the words still makes no sense, felt like such a dream. Guess I should be thankful for anesthesia to some extent. I’m not sure I could have coped with being fully conscious for that affair.

There’s got to be a dark joke in my being sterilized the day your light burnt out but I can’t find it just yet…

Sigh, I just miss you. We all miss you.

If ever there could be a sign that the afterlife existed, it’d be you wiring up a connection back here…still keep waiting for my e-mail from the afterlife…part of me will always be.

Almost a Year to the Moment

I’m realizing as this day moves forward that it’s been more than a year since I’ve talked to you in any media format.

I don’t honestly think I spoke to you this day a year ago…or even a few days prior.

I’m still not ready for this…but maybe that’s just how it needs to be.

Giving Up the Ghost

I suppose there is some comfort to be taken in knowing you became the man I always knew you could be. Just a bit sobering to know that I was a spot of roadkill on that journey.

My Gift to You

Well, the e-mail has been sent. Here we go old friend. I figure the best gift I can give to honor you in a way is to finish the damn thing I started you were occasionally up my ass telling me to complete.

Should this actually become a real thing, it’s your doing just as much as mine.

These are the moments…

This right here? This second is when I want to roundhouse kick you in the balls. I really hate reiterating the story…it lives in my head every day as it is, but mostly I really don’t want to have to say it out loud or type it to someone that hasn’t gotten the information shared with them yet.

Now I’m not just a friend, I’m your fucking life editor.

Want to kick you right in the babymaker man…following by a big ass bear hug because I miss you something terrible.

Paint’s Peeling

The paint’s peeling off the streets again
And I’ll drive and close my eyes in Michigan
And I feel nothing, not brave
It’s a hard day for breathing again

I still can’t listen to this Rilo Kiley song. I finally got brave enough to go through the rest of this group’s loveliness as evidenced in the quote above…but this one…I can’t stomach yet…

Are you watching us? Are you laughing at the changes that are taking place? Sometimes I can hear your laugh so clearly I expect you to be waiting at my doorstep. To celebrate, to talk, to be silent, to breathe…

All this grief is supposed to make me want to live more, right? Cherish the moments as they are? Not sure I’ll ever do that…mostly still just angry that you’re not here to do it yourself.

Silver Linings

Every cloud has a silver lining…

Sweet little cliche’s line up like soldiers to be executed.

“Silver Lining” seems to be a theme in my life the past couple months. I have been obsessively devouring Jenny Lewis’ new album, Voyager as well as rolling through my catalog of Rilo Kiley. For reasons I will merely allude to, I have avoided this band in particular for nearly a year purely for emotional reasons. Ties run too deep to handle those bullet holes.

In addition, I consumed the audio book for Matthew Quick’s “The Silver Linings Playbook”. I won’t spoil the book’s contents despite the age of it and the fact it’s long since been turned into a film. The aspect of it sticking with me is the mind of the main character and the person to whom he ends up connecting to most. I remain uncertain regarding my feelings on the portrayal of mental illness in Quick’s writing and curious of his own experience (first or second hand) with those afflicted in some degree.