The Secret Handshake

there are
around
50 muscles
in the
human
face
and a thousand
permutations
of
smiles and frowns
and bedroom eyes
but
I've cracked the code
I've solved the Rubik's Cube
I've found
the perfect
heartsick smile.

they say
the body
will manifest
physically
the caldera
of feelings
that boils beneath
the surface
and
I know
that to be true
when she asks
"How do I look?"
and I feel
my face contort
as if to say:
You look beautiful
and
I curse every
day and night and
question God
because you are
two feet in front
of me but
could not be
farther away
and
none of your boyfriends
deserve to be called
motherfucker
but
that isn't going
to stop me.

that smile,
it's a
secret handshake
you've got to
join the club
to learn it
and
if you already have
then
you know
exactly
what I'm talking about
and
all I can say is

you poor thing
I am so
sorry.

The Decline

The Decline

How did we get here
so fast?
In less than
a hundred years time
we went from
punk rock
to
Myspace
from
the greatest generation
to
the "I'm the greatest" generation
from
a lost generation
to
a generation lost.
Gone are
cafes of artists
discussing society
and
writing letters
to one another
instead we have
text messages of
"oh my god
like
whatever"
and
kids throwing out Shakespeare
to make room for
Chuck Palahniuk
and books filled with
dollar store words
as deep as
a birdbath.
What caused
such rapid atrophy?
Cliff's Notes
television
text messaging
Myspace
Facebook
every shortcut you took
every book you didn't read
every girl you tried to impress
every boy you thought you had to
dumb yourself down for
every escape you took
instead of dealing with your
fucking life
and
if you think
I'm talking to you;
I am.

oh my god
like
whatever.

Revisionist History

I've spent a lot of my adult life feeling embarrassed.

Years ago, it was because of my weight. I eventually got over that, then I got rid of the weight.

Since then, I've spent a lot of time feeling embarrassed about things that I've written. Well, not so much specific things that I've written, but about the nature of the subject matter. I am overly sensitive, overly emotional, and frequently overly honest. I don't know when to hold back. Hell, I wrote a girl a poem after three dates. Pathetic, right? You see where I'm coming from now.

Even on this blog, there are some older posts where I basically just let loose how I was feeling at the time, and I've seriously considered going back and deleting them.

But then, a funny thing happened.

A friend of mine emailed me and told me one of my blogs really resonated with her and helped her get through a situation she was dealing with at the time. That meant so much to me.

I felt embarrassed about writing those things because I worried about people coming to my blog and thinking less of me for being so open. I worried it might turn them off from reading my work. However, after that email, I realized that I didn't care anymore. That I could have an impact on someones life for even the smallest amount of time means much more to me than the opinions of strangers and potential readers. Yes, I want people to read my work, but I will let the work stand for itself. If someone decides that my personality turns them off from reading, then just as well, there are thousands of other writers for them to read. I'd much rather share my experiences with people and develop relationships with them, because we are all in this together.

I saw Michael Caine on the Tonight Show once, and when Leno asked him how he got into acting he said something to the effect of being in school and signing up for drama class because there was a ton of girls in there. I've always said that I think a lot of mens professions at some point or another have something to do with trying to impress a girl. I am no different. I've been writing since I was in middle school, but honestly, one of the main reasons I started writing so fervently and trying to get published this past year was because I was trying to impress an English major that I had a mega mega crush on. (again, pathetic, right?) However, as silly a thing as that is to admit to, it worked out for the best because I unleashed a furious passion that I might not have had the guts to follow earlier.

Basically, what embarrassment boils down to is the need to impress people. I've spent so much time feeling embarrassed because I worried so much about impressing people.

I am a much different man than I used to be. Now, I feel embarrassed ABOUT feeling embarrassed. I have made mistakes. I have regrets. However, the past is not a tangible thing, it is not something to be fixed. The past is just a collection of moments spent living in the present. I have learned, I have grown. The past is not a sheath in which to rest, but rather a whetstone to sharpen our knives on so when life comes at you in a dark alley you are prepared to defend yourself and stab that son-of-a-bitch before he gets your wallet, or worse: your spirit, your heart, or your courage.

P.S. - I cannot stress enough how amazing the new Animal Collective album is. Please go buy it.

The Zen Of Mechanics

The Zen of mechanics
and fathers
is in their tired calloused hands
that shovel food
into their mouths
before they fall asleep in the recliner
(watching the golf channel)
and get up the next morning
stiff and sore
to go to work
and do it all over again.

If Ever You Wake

If ever you wake with
a sparrow's head (clutched

between meaty fingers)
and your eyes purple and green;

baptize yourself in sleep,
bathe in the warmth of new dawn morning.

Loneliness is a black abyss, but
there is light to be found in your heart.

Life Is A Delicate Negotiation

Yeah, I know that blogs about feelings and what's been going on in my life are stupid and lame and nobody really cares anyway. But, I've never been a guy that knew when to shut my mouth.
so
here
we
go.



I've been thinking a lot about the end of the year. I like to think back on the year and reflect on what I learned about life and about myself. If you're not growing, then you're dying. This year, the end of the year revelation has been a bit bigger than most of the ones prior.

I rely too much on other people. I don't mean that I ask them for things. I mean, I judge myself and measure my self-worth by other people. For instance, in the past I felt bad if I went a night without getting any phone calls. It's silly, yes, but it felt like there was a reason behind it. I understand that I'm not the center of anyone's life, nor should I be, but those nights my mind would race with thoughts questioning my life and my friendships. It was extremely pathetic and unfair to the people that I care about. I can't say that I was being very rational.

I also had the privilege of dating an amazing girl this summer, and when she didn't want to continue seeing me I spent some time feeling that I wasn't interesting enough, attractive enough, smart enough, or good enough - for her or for anybody. (HUGE ASIDE: I'm sure she'll read this, so I need to make a note. All of these thoughts and feelings had absolutely nothing to do with her. She could not have been more wonderful. In fact, I liked her TOO much. I thought she was perfect. Hell, I still do. She is an unbelievable woman and I absolutely meant the word "privilege." I am very lucky to know her and have her friendship, I even consider her to be one of my best friends. I don't know where exactly I rank on her totem pole, but I do not mean that in a self-deprecating way - she is just a girl who attracts many special people into her life that are much more wonderful and interesting than myself. I don't particularly care either, all I know is that I care a lot about her and love her dearly as a friend. I hope she knows that.) Maybe those things are true, maybe they aren't. Either way, I can't keep living my life taking everything like a shotgun blast to the chest. It is unhealthy. Sometimes things just are not meant to work out, that is life. Being alone doesn't reflect on me as a person, it doesn't make me a failure.

There is a Pedro The Lion e.p. that was originally titled The Only Reason I Feel Secure Is That I Am Validated By My Peers and as you can see, that title couldn't be more true for me. My goal for 2009 is to be the strong confidant man that I know I am. This fear of being viewed as a failure is a self-fulfilling prophecy, and I'm tired of it.

There was this really great hardcore punk band from Massachusetts named Last Lights. Their singer very recently passed away. He was 24 years old. I never met the guy, I never got to see the band play, but I was a big fan. I was reading about the guy by some people that knew him and I won't lie, I got a little choked up just reading all the wonderful things people had to say about him. It's such a tragedy when young people die. But, the part that got me was the passion and intensity for life and music and art that everyone said he had. This guy was such a stand up guy and extremely passionate, he was everything that I want to be. I think I AM all those things, but I let fear and rejection get in the way. I am stronger than that. No more. I've got miles left to go, both literally and figuratively. I hate myself for not coming to these realizations sooner. I am young, so young. I have passion in life, which is more than I could ever ask for. I am doing myself such harm by being so slothful. I have this passion and I'm letting it rot. No more. There is no worse death than being young and feeling old.

From this day forward I will never slow down. I will achieve all the goals I set for myself. I will not let myself live on this Earth without seeing everything I've ever wanted to see. I will never go another day without writing, or doing something that gets me closer to my goal. I will not let loneliness and fear dictate how I live. I will not rely on other people to make my happiness. As Bukowski says "There are worse things than being alone..." I will follow in the footsteps of strong people like Kerouac, Bob Dylan, Paul Newman, and the punk rockers of the 70's and 80's to whom I am forever indebted.

Some people only dream of destinations.

I dream of the journey.

Death To Poets

It's all a damn
rat race
everyone trying to
out-clever
each other
trying to be more ironic
trying to get published
in The New Yorker
or impress Harold Bloom.

Save the bullshit
Please God
give me a
punk rock poet
with a little soul
with an honest pen
and some hurt in his fingers

no amount
of wit
and teaching
can replace
madness
or
make up for
hollow words
infinity
times
zero
after all
is
still
zero.

So,
Harold Bloom
and the rest
of the critics
can fuck off
and get back to
masturbating
to a
Robert Frost
collection.

words as breaths

when the ghosts leave
is when I leave.
when the words end
is when I end.
living with
words as breaths
is something
that I have God
to thank for
and I do.
I do.

Like Clockwork

Ever tried.
Ever failed.
No matter.
Try again.
Fail again.
Fail better.
-Samuel Beckett



Like Clockwork

The months pass by like minutes
when what seems real isn't
and never to have been at all.
Time passes through your fingertips;
sand flowing from one end
of the hourglass to the other.
And like clockwork, people change
like autumn leaves and leave you
behind to freeze in the snow.

Shed your skin, leave it behind
buried in the Earth for the Devil to find.
Grow thicker skin and leave that too.
Never stop moving, not for money, not
for love, and not for the countless people-
the happy and content- with their death
painted on their faces. You are the
canyon walls, and life is the river-the
cruel, unapologetic, never ending, unmerciful river.

I've always been an extremely approachable guy. For as long as I can remember, all the friends I've had have all had one thing in common, no matter when I knew them or what walk of life they came from. They always felt they could come to me; they felt comfortable around me. I'm what is generally considered a "nice" guy, which is great for building strong friendships, though it does present problems in the dating department. Anyway, over the years a lot of my friends have come to me asking me for advice and I've always done the best that I could to help them in any way possible. There's this one guy though. He keeps coming to me with problems and asking me for advice, and everytime I tell him something he never listens to me. He goes off and does his own thing, and then keeps coming back everytime there's a problem, and then doesn't listen to a single thing I say.

That person is me.

I can pontificate with the best of them about loving your life and being blessed and loving everyone and everything; but when the only people in the room are myself and the darkness, I become Ernest Hemingway or Ian Curtis or (insert famous artist that killed themself). I spend hours thinking about what's wrong with me, why whats-her-face doesn't like me anymore, why I should give up trying to write, why I haven't gotten a phone call all day, etc. I always feel like an ass after the fact. I have a pretty good life, I've never experienced real hardship, I've never not had food or a place to live or anything of significance. I don't really know what my problem is, I just hope I can fix it. I should be in love with my life. I'm twenty-two years old, what in the hell do I have to worry about? This is prime time for me to enjoy freedom and recklessness, to travel, to experience everything.

Here's to hoping my heart catches up with my brain.

Last night was one of those nights I was talking about. I felt shitty all night for no reason. Luckily work wasn't very busy, so I was able to be by myself for most of the night. I got a pretty decent poem out of it though, despite the morose subject matter.

It Takes The Best Of You

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To get out of bed in the morning
and fight in the darkness

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To finish your breakfast
sitting at a table for one

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To look her in the eye
without spilling your guts

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To keep a smile on your face
so you can pay the rent

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To go to bed content
with waking up in the morning

And it gets the best of you

Sometimes



*For those of you that don't know, my friend Jesse Godbey and I will be doing a split chapbook. Should hopefully be done and available at the beginning of the year.

*Apparently I look like a condom when I wear a toboggan.