Here I am, standing in the mist…well actually I’m sitting in the mist. Sitting in this new coffee shop that I’m visiting, checking up on the wifi service that they provide. It’s a quaint little place, quiet to an extent, but the hours aren’t to my liking. Closing early, closing early. 9 9 9 9.

This past month has gone by in a blur. These past couple of months has gone by in a blur. Ever since, September. A blur. Things come and go, come and go. It’s been only 5 months, almost half a year, but it seems so much longer. It feels like years has passed since then.

Now we come to a new year. A new lunar year. The year of the Dog. Bow wow.

I don’t know how much writing I’m going to get done. I don’t know how my writing I need to do. I don’t know much of anything anymore, but that I like family. For the most part I miss family, the loud get togethers, the big “hey how do you do’s” etc. etc. etc.

Being at my Great Uncle’s this past weekend to celebrate the coming of the new year is always a great treat. I met family I never met before. I get to be the kid that I always am, chasing the little adorable little girl around the garage. I had fun.

Maybe it’s just my age, or maybe I’ve changed so much, but it just feels that I’ve gotten quite comfortable in most social situations. I felt comfortable being with the new found cousins that I never met before.

I picked up right where I left off with that ol’ high school crush I just connected with again.

I am who I am with the ol’ strange internet stranger that keeps writing me back.

I have grown up, I have reached a new stage in my life. I am comfortable with who I am, I am found.

Now, it just seems that my new found self is getting me in trouble. Nothing too unusual. My words flow out of my mouth, tingle down my fingers; my verse comes out so smoothly and offensive.

Pissing people off is the lesson that I will learn to cope with this next year. I’m a month or two deep in this new phase, but I’m still learning and feeling who can handle the smart ass that is me.

Not many can. They just don’t have that thick skin. Others can, for they know me. But it just seems that I’m just getting myself in trouble with my “smooth” mouth.

My humor is crude, rude, and at most times hard to swallow. My humor is my humor. Dry. Sarcastic. Witty. Smart Ass-y, if there is such a term.

That’s just me. That’s what I’ve always been. I’ve just refined it as I became more comfortable with who I am.

Now that things are done and done and done, it’s just time for me to focus on the things to come. No more of these searches for these unattainable and not worth my time girls.

Now is the time to just focus and enjoy the life that I lead. If that means not going out weeks at a time, then it’s not going out weeks at a time.

I don’t know what I want to write tonight. I don’t know what I want to say here on this blog, but I know that I need to write. I thought about poetry, but nothing comes to mind, no words rhyme.

Most of my writing seems to be a free verse poem anyway, so that’s my poetry for the day.

It’s been a while since I’ve written a poem. A decent poem, and I have no inspiration to write. The last poem that I wrote was to the Starry Flower that will never be, and it has been deleted and forgotten. I cannot search for the words no more, put them in place. It is lost.

Now, I just write and write to fill the void. I just write and write to get my exercise. I just write and write.

I came to the conclusion this past weekend, after being told so so many times before, but I’m really good with kids. Strangers ask if I have any and they tell me that I’m good with them. I am good with them. I’m just a kid at heart. I guess that’s where our connection lay.

It just makes me feel that I really want kids. I really do. Now will I be married when I’m having these kids, that’s a different story. Should I adopt or should I go about the old fashion way or some derivation of it? I don’t know.

Maybe I’m just a big kid, never grown up to realize that life is passing me by. Just too stubborn and too childish to realize that life is something more to my meager existence…but I know it’s not true. I’m an old soul trying to recapture his youth and succeeding at it with the right people.

Gone, lost, but not forgotten
You cloud my memories
You jumble my thoughts

I stand encompassed by your silvery mist
Searching for my way
Stumbling into humility

You were always just out of reach
There’s no point in connecting
Any attempt is an fruitless effort

I can’t shake your essence
I am forever changed
You will always be my history

Today was just going to be a normal Saturday. Wake up, pay my bills and then go watch a movie. Which was all done and done.

I went to the Westside Pavilion today and a small part of my life from this day forward has changed. I lost one of my loves. It is gone forever, never to return, unless there is a miracle. With the market being it is today, I don’t think there will be one.

The Barnes & Noble at Westside Pavilion will be closing next week. I just found out today. The store is almost empty with its clearance sale. Flocks and flocks of bargain book buyers stand before the shelves, looking, skimming, reading, leering, lining up with their armful of books, striking gold.

My love of that place will be lost to me forever.

My secret little hiding place is forever gone. I will never be able to write on that bridge anymore. The tables are gone. The chairs are gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

I am left to find a new desolate place to do my writing, when I don’t feel like writing at home. I guess it is a good thing for me to lose this love, like any other loves that I’ve lost in my life. It teaches me that nothing is ever lasting and that things just pick up and leaves at any moments notice. So enjoy it while you can. Enjoy it while you can.

I had some great moments there, sitting high up there alone jotting down my latest blurbs, my latest scenes, and just thinking about thinking and writing about thinking and writing about life. It is my own Fortress of Solitude, but without the ice and cold.

Just sitting there, looking out at the busy intersection below, Westwood & Pico, just seeing life passing me by, I have no regrets. I was doing something that I grown to love. I was at a place I loved to be.

Studying the Banana Republic ad board and their little quips of life and all things Banana. Trying to find a wireless connection that worked in the bridge.

Just being there with my laptop and my music, thinking, being on my own, doing the thing that I do best. Those were the times.

But I haven’t done it in a while. I haven’t gone there in what seem millennia upon millennia. The little thing called Life has gotten in the way. And now that I am back, ready to do what I do best, it is gone.

I guess that’s my theme for the past couple of months. Love lost. Well technically, just losing things. Friends, hiding places, opportunities, drives, money, relationships, etc…. Lost.

I’m back to where I am ages ago. Me on my own, just the way I like it. Just the way things were supposed to be, but I just got too curious as to “what is out there”. I just got to curious and curiosity killed the cat.

But it’s all for the best. I will have more time for the things that matter to me, at this moment. My writing. My dog, once I get one. My life, putting things back together, pasting the fallen pieces into place.
* * *

Sweetening things up a bit would be nice also. Chilling down from boiling anger that I was feeling. Just strictly moving on from the things that I need to move on from. The past will stay in the past and I will look at where things are now.

Getting things all out so I could feel better. Getting things all out so I won’t be mad at her anymore. Just getting things all out so I can move on.

I’ve been bitten by the bitter bug and it poisoned me.

I don’t want to be mad at her. I know she did it because she needed to. Things weren’t working out. Things just weren’t. We weren’t the “right fit”. I thought things could have worked for us, longer than our time together, but looking at it now, I think that she did the right thing.

I’m not the assertive one that could have done it, but I would have when the time came. She did it before I could. She did. But again, the idealist, the romantic in me thought things could have gone better.

From the first date, something was missing. From the first day, things were destined to end the way it did. From the first date.

We were just too different. I live the lax pace of life, and she loved “life”. That is something I could never have offered to her. The wild parties, the dance-a-thons, the money, the cars. Things that I could never have offered, because they never mattered to me.

From the first date I knew. But, I was just too blinded by what it was to do anything about it. It was my first “dating experience” which turned to my first “relationship”. It was my first, and I didn’t know the rules, so I just played and played, learning from my mistakes and never listening to my gut.

Things went and went from our second date to our third. Spending time with the boys brought out the boy in me to just play along. To just have the fun that I needed to have. To see her in a different light and finding the thing that we can connect on. And we did. Family. Kids. Just our heart to hearts. But without them, what was there?

Empty air.

Silent searches.

She in her head and me in mine.

But it was my first. I didn’t know the rules. I learned them as I played along and soon I was out played. I was out of my league, me a beginner playing with a expert in the field.

The kid that came out grew up into the man that I’ve always been. I wanted more than just the play. I wanted something deep. Something that moved my soul. But it was never there. It was just too foolish of me to think that it was something more. Curse my romanticism.

We were just too “open” for that connection to start. “Open” for the sake of being “open” because it was a first for the both of us. Dating for me, and dating for her. We were just too “open”.

I made the mistake of not being “open” and just being with her. She had no problems. But she did what she needed to do. She did what she had to do to get better, to feel better, to get whatever it is that was messing her up out of her system.

It’s funny how that dynamic worked. I helped her fix herself and now I’m the one who needs fixing.

At the same time as she was getting better, I wasn’t. The doubts. The games. The mind fucks. The feelings of distance. The suspicion. The feelings of being a fool. The feelings just killed me. Attachment to someone who didn’t, who never saw me in that light. Blinded by what I thought to be love. Blinded by lust. Blinded. I hated the feeling, but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. It was just my naiveté. It was just me.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need to date more, to experience more, so I know how to love. So I know how to play the game. So I know what the rules are. But, I don’t want to play the way she did.

I’m just not built that way. That is why I can never date.

But, it is for the best. Writing this out. Getting this out. Talking with friends. “Talking” with family. Venting with friends, and letting family know, it is all for the best.

My sessions with these sad sappy love songs. Don’t Forget About Us, We Belong Together (Remix) found after the end and my personal favorite, even when we were still dating Burn. I’m such a girl, but I can’t stop the feelings that I’m feeling.

My Scrooge went away this past year and I caved and bought her a present even though she told me not to. A simple silver necklace with a three star pendant and a matching earring set. Wrapped my little pink bow and decided to hide it at her apartment the next time I saw her. But it never happened.

I can move on from what happened. Separate myself from the experience. Of course I will never forget it. It will forever be burned into my memory of what happened between us of what we shared. We did have some good times. Some sweet moments. Some sugary laughs. We did have a connection, but ultimately it wasn’t a connection that really mattered. We were just too different. We weren’t the “right fit”.

It will be an example of what not to do in the next relationship. Never keep it “open”. Never let it be “open”. Just never.

So, I’m better. I’m better. I came out of this damaged, but again, when haven’t I been damaged?

I haven’t “talked” to her since Christmas when she wrote me. I thought I would have been fixed by then, but I wasn’t. I was still bitter and angry as presented in my reply to her. I haven’t heard back.

I think it’s for the best that things are over now. No communication and the connection is severed. No ties between us. She’s in her own world and I’m in mine.

I don’t think I will ever see her again. I don’t think I’ll ever talk to her again. I don’t think I’ll ever write to her again. I don’t know if she’ll come up in my writing. I’m sure she will in one form or another. But yeah, no more of her. It’s for the best.

What would be the point of me seeing her again? What would be the point of me talking to her again? What would be the point of me writing to her again? Nothing. We will never be together. We will never be with each other. We will just never be. There will never be a “we” again. There just isn’t.

Why spend time mending relationships that will never go anywhere? We left on the grounds that we left. She’s living her own life with the new boyfriend that she’s found, moving in a new direction that she plotted out herself and I’m getting back to my old life, but now with new experiences to draw from. Nothing between us really matters anymore. Nothing.

There’s no point in keeping up acquaintances. I just don’t know what will happen. Whether things will resurface on my end, or even hers. There’s just no point. Why put myself through that? Why go through that? So no. Connection severed and all is gone. It’s all for the best.

Blog, first and last, last and first. This will be my first and last blog here on myspace.

I have another blog. Not here, but there. I keep it up quite frequently, but not really.

It is just a blog of random thoughts and streams of consciousness. There is no point in me writing down my daily routines and my daily happenings considering the same shit happens every day. Day in and day out. Sun rise and sun set.

Here is the link. http://www.livejournal.com/users/hermitsmoores/

It’s just me rambling and rambling and rambling. Shit I do everyday but in the “word” form.

I go there and I go here, I go everywhere with that blog. All my thoughts and feelings. All my hearts and emotions. All my soul and perversions. Everything is in that blog. Most public, some private.

Writing. Daily juice cleansing. Pumping. Pumping. Words flow into the empty void of these pages here and mainly in the pages there.

This is an experiment to see if I can do it. This is an experiment to see if this will work. Will I be able to put my thoughts down with where I am now? Will I be able to put my thoughts down with the tv taunting me, teasing me, asking me, begging me to turn it on? Will I be able to jibjab with my usual diatribes as my comfy brand new futon yells at me to lay on it, to nap on it, to give it the warmth that it needs, to have it fulfill its purpose of being used? Will I be able to?

Experiment, test, a trial run to see if I really do need to go out and get my thoughts down.

This year will be the year. This year will be the time. I will get my work done. There’s no point in my dilly dallying with the things that I dilly dally with and just get on pace and finish the things that I need to finish.

I write and write with my usual speed and my usual censor as I type and type without the “correctness” of prose and grammar. Things just flow and flow until the pages are filled with these little words that makes sentences and complete thoughts.

My constant readers will be familiar with my style and subject. Virgins will find it tedious and a bore. If you get through one, you can get through them all. If not, “hasta la vista” as they love to say. Thank you for your valuable time and effort.

Thank you all.

I just sit here, at my comfy new home, just thinking about things that I usually do. Things that came to pass as of late floods my mind. That fateful night. The dates of dates, the times of times, the girls of girls, my life my life. Things pass through my mind like the moving pictures that crosses the silver screen or the square tube. Things move in fast forward and reverse in super speed and in the oh so slo mo that I am so fond of, just picking out the miniscule details that I’ve missed along the way.

Analyzing the picture frames of my unconscious movie that plays over and over in my head, I cannot make heads or tails to the riddle that clouds my mind.

I cannot make sense of what my mind is telling me to do. I cannot jump on and clutch the advice that my gut is suggesting. I cannot do anything because I’m just a confused jumble mess of “what’s going on?”.

Who is it that I am to end up with? Who is it that is supposed to spend their life with me, besides myself?

A cloudy answer is in front of me. A foggy silhouette stands in the gray mist. It looks like myself.

So sad indeed, sad to be, but happy to go on and move forward from the compass that was guiding me in the wrong direction. Now I am back on the “lost” track that I was on, no longer guided by the misguiding compass.

Now I am lost on my own terms. Lost at my own choice. Just aimlessly wandering, going wherever it is that my feet want to go.

But wherever it goes, I will never know. I never know where it is that I will go. Looking back at the past year, seeing where I’ve been, I would never have imagined.

It’s about damn time. Yes it is. It’s about damn time. It sure took me a long time to get there. A very long ass time, but I got there and now it is time for me to move on and go somewhere else. Go where I need to be, maybe, hopefully. It just doesn’t sound too scary anymore, but it is still a little bit out of my grasp.

I reach and reach, but I grab at nothing but thin air. But sometimes it is best to reach out and grab nothing. Just to reach out and make the attempt makes up for all the emptiness that you are grabbing for.

Effort. Tries. Just doing what it is that you are doing to survive the game called life. You reach and reach, hoping and hoping, grabbing and grabbing, until your last breath, doing whatever it is that you need to do. Effort. Tries.

This will go here and there as I get my unfocused focus down into this empty void and putting it down in history that these combinations of words were actually placed together to create something so unique and so different that nothing can duplicate it unless it needs to be duplicated for preservation sake.