All posts by nunuclikna

Creative, Simple Shorts

Smiley Two-teeth

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There he is, the sore of my eyes, the terror of the town. All run from him screaming in fear; kids, grownups and most of all, grannies.

Smiley Two-teeth. Not because he smiles a lot and has two teeth, no. But because it sounded good to him. Just hearing the name puts the fear of God in us all. His real name is Davey Huckleberry, a name that put fear in its owner, hence the name change.

He’s a force to be reckoned with, all three feet five of him. Don’t let his small stature fool you. His little man complex makes him a giant. His angelic countenance is broken by a wretched scar from a freak shaving accident at age eight. This makes him look like the terror that he is.

To us grownups or people of height, no shins are safe. No dogs are fierce enough either. His speedy little feet will chase you down and there will be hell to pay for running away from him.

His cackle after he chases you down will make you break down and cry, curled up in a corner calling for your mother, no matter what age you are.

One man stood up to him, a hero and a giant in our eyes. He stood seven foot eight, weighed well over three hundred pounds. It was a battle of biblical proportions, a modern day David and Goliath. After the battle was done, the giant stood two feet seven; a tiny withering, puny, pathetic little ball of a man, if you could call him that.

After that historic day, no man dared stand up to this little giant. No man has, and no man ever will.

Creative, Simple Shorts

Life of Sheep

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Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The smell of grass from a green meadow fills the air. The sun beams brightly on my back. Not a care in the world. I graze lazily as I wait. I wait to be counted. I chew and chew the tasteless grass, swallow, and chew again.

A “Bah, Bah” off in the distance. It is time. I sluggishly get up, one leg, two, and then the third and fourth follow. I’m lost in the herd army; marching away to our purpose, to be counted. We all move along without fear, for there were no threats from dogs or wolves. We move with determination.

Day turns to night, and we are bathed in the starry light of night’s light bulbs and the crooked moon. A line forms, and a chorus of “Bah, Bah” erupts in excitement. It is now that we hear the voice of the cool night breeze. My life is a routine; the sight ahead of me is no wonder, no miracle. It’s just life.

Slowly but surely, the line ahead of me shortens. Soon it will be my turn. The windy voice is getting louder and clearer. There’s three ahead of me, two, one, and now it’s my turn.

With a “Bah Bah” I leap over the wooden fence. I soar through the night sky, soaring and soaring until the world below is a dot. I reach the stars. Paper cutout of different colors, drawn with squiggly lines to show its magnificent shine. I soar and soar. Nothing is a wonder, for this is routine. Over and through the hook of the crescent moon I start my decent. I land in the waiting herd with the voice of the wind counting 47. I am 47.

My job is done, my purpose has been fulfilled tonight. I graze lazily with my companions to the soft whispers of the tired wind…48…49…50…51….

Creative, Simple Shorts

details

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She walks with a stealth like gait, quiet and weightless. The most dedicated walker I’ve ever seen; head down, eyes forward and all business. Her sweet scent is floral and nameless. The only word that comes to mind is Lavender. Her hair, brown and curly, frizzled if unkempt and humid. She appears delicate and fragile, but we all know better. She’s off in her own world as she giggles to herself, laughing at a joke that she only gets. A thin grin appears as she silently eaves drop on some one else’s drama. Her wit and humor, dry as the sands of the hottest desert. How she gently lays her face on her delicate little hand as she naps. Eyes closed, she gently rocks herself with her feet to the music she only can hear. The glimmer in her eye and joy in her voice as she talks about her little brothers and their recent misdeeds. The soft whine in her voice as she proclaims her daily anthem of “I’m tired.” Her stern and icy demeanor changes as we become alone and fall into familiarity, our daily routine of catching up and soul searching. The genuineness in her voice as we bid each other goodnight. ¬

Creative, Simple Shorts

crush

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She stood six feet four inches as far as I was concerned, but I’m sure she was only three foot one but no more than three foot one and a half. I was seven, I didn’t know what my height was way back then and I didn’t care. All I cared about was her. She had large brown eyes, an engaging smile, and shiny long brown hair. She was my Repunzel. Tina was her name, or was it Nina, or Gina, no, maybe I think it was Kristy; I don’t remember. What I do remember was that she was a feisty one. Her slim petite figure, as if children can have another type of figure, charges through the playground as we play tag. The boys would chase the girls, slapping them on their butts to steal a grope. At age seven too, how corrupted us boys were. Instead of sitting on the ground like the other girls, Tina or Nina or Daphne or whatever her name was would chase us back and steal a grope herself with her fist or knee or feet to our soft fleshy areas like our stomach, face, or her personal favorite, our groin. After regaining consciousness, I realized she wasn’t the one for me. I moved on, as I should. She was Kristina or Tristina or Trista or maybe Michelle. I don’t remember, but she sure was a feisty one.

Creative, Simple Shorts

A Baker’s Vision

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This is something old that I’ve written. I’m guessing this was in, oh…2004, summer. It was a writing assignment a friend of mine at that time had given me to do. She got this writing assignment in a summer extension class she took. The premise is to write a story where a wedding cake ends up smashed on the road.

It is unfinished as I got tired of it…my insecurities in my writings got in the way. I don’t even know where I was going with it. Will it be finished? I highly doubt it.

Perfection. What is it? I’m surrounded by perfection; yet, I do not see it. I create perfection, and yet, I do not see it.

Every time a couple comes in, they flip through the book; they glance over perfection after perfection until they come to their own. There’s classic white, chocolate, yellow, cheesecake and more. Tiered. Stacked; two, three, five. Frosting of different shades and different flavors. Simple to fancy. Fancy to extraordinary. Extraordinary to perfection. Each made and decorated with extreme care, attention, and love.

The wedding cake is the symbol of the couples love and affection. It is what the couple shares with their friends and family at the reception. It is a part of them; an extension of their love and their being. It is a symbol of their faith and their promise; the promise of their union, their love.

During the celebration of the birth of their union, the cake is presented. From tradition, the celebrated couple makes the first cut into the cake, bringing perfection to an end. Then they temp each other with pieces of the cake, holding it to their lover’s mouth, taunting and teasing, until the final moment of devouring.

The cake is quickly cut into pieces. Passed on to others to taste their union. Devoured, dirtied, trash, crumbs, and nothingness has perfection become. It is nothing and insignificant, only a sweet treat in their guests’ eyes.

* * *

Today is like any other day, an early morning of work. My shop prepares every morning in the usual routine to ready it for life. It is a sweet lover’s delight. The aromatic smell of life fills the air. My garden of baked goods; pastries, doughnuts, cakes, breads, and many more delicious treats.

Patrons come and go, finishing their usual routine. Coffee with danish or tea with shortbread. Each taking a little piece of heaven to complete their morning.

One couple in particular surveys my smorgasbord of sweets. Slowly taking their time, they admire the smell of the breads, savor the deliciousness of the doughnuts, and quench their thirst with the blueberry muffins.

Once they finish their assessment, eagerly they approach. They ask for the book. With some hesitation, I pull out my bible of cakes and pass it on to them with care. They thank me. Caressing the book, they carry it to a table to verify their faith.

The couple is as lovely as any other, young and in love. They are oblivious to the world; ‘cause to them, there is only love. They do not care that they are poor as shown by their second hand designer imposters. Their love is the only thing that matters. They do not care that their four jobs between them just put them into the black of savings, for their love will conquer all. They are above all that is petty.
With each turn of the page, the bride-to-be’s breath just holds a little more and more, only to be released by the tightening of her mate’s reassuring hand. Their heads so close together, they are one, heads down, admiring the beauty that is before them. With each page, beauty comes and goes, matching their taste to their love. The groom’s jittery legs dances with anticipation for the next page and the bride’s slow revelation of what is to come.

The bride’s breath holds completely along with her lover’s jitterbug. Stillness. It is a moment of clarity. With a single look, all is said.

blogs, reflections

BIA: Back in Action

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It’s been a while, a long while since I’ve blogged and my dear readers, as you can see, there is something new to my blog. A whole new blog. A whole new URL.

I have finally managed to get my own website. Here now, I’m able to do things that I wasn’t able to do with LiveJournal. Here now, I can create pages, links, categories that will mark differences in the type of postings.

Here, hopefully, I can expand my site from my typical blogs to more. More fiction. Poems. Critical essays. Prose. Blogs. More.

Here, I feel like home. Here I feel like it is the right thing to do. Free to do whatever.

I need to ween myself away from the mind-numbling flickering images of bland broadcast tv to something more stimulating, to something I’m more passionate a bout. That is writing. Words. My drug of choice. My drug. I need my fix.

So, this, here I do declare is my first official blog on my new space.

* * *

Life has just been taking its course and days, weeks, months all blend together into this primordial pool of ticking and tocking. It’s hard to discern any specific day from another. Life is just passing me by as it should.

I have been so wrapped up in life that I forgot to even write my yearly diatribe, my yearly blog, about turning a new number. Well, if it is not too late, here it is….hopefully.

Let’s just say it. I’m 29. I am actually fucking 29 now.

I am a adult, but in some way, I never feel like I’m an adult. Just a lil’ big kid that has no responsibilities. Just a lil’ big kid that does what he needs to do.

But, in a way, slowly, things might not be this way anymore. In an earlier blog at the end of last year, I called it. 2008 is the year of tough decisions. That my dear readers will come later.

I’m 29, but I don’t feel any different than I did last year. I’m still the happy-go-lucky guy that just lives life the way he does. Just does his own thing and not care what other people say. The same guy who just wastes his life away without blinking an eye.

Maybe I am making a small effort now to change, to grow up, to just be….and maybe it’ll work out.

29. It’s just a number now. Just a symbol of how many years I’ve been alive, but it doesn’t symbolize anything important. Nothing at all.

It doesn’t symbolize all the self-indulgent shit I’ve gone through. It doesn’t symbolize all the losses I’ve gone through in my life; and thinking back, they still hurt in my small weak heart of mine. They still hurt.

But, I guess another reason why I haven’t been writing lately, besides having to work on my script work is that there really isn’t much to say about my life anymore. The optimism that was posted in the year-end diatribe is still here. The freedom I have is still here. A lot of the same thoughts and same aspects of my life is still here.

There’s not much change. Not much at all. As a matter of fact…let me just go back and reread what it is I posted….

…back, here again. With a new found refreshment of things I wrote in the past, ’cause my memory is going with my age.

Hopefully I can get back to the mindless fingertip tapping of letters to words that I’m use to….hopefully.

Tough decisions and uncertainty. That is the thing that I’ve noticed so far in the short time that I’ve turned 29.

It is my ultimate test in being a adult. To throw away the ideal, to throw away the romantic notion and face reality with clear eyes.

The biggest thing that happened in this year…which started prior to my number 29 is my dating. Relationship.

It started out with a bang. It started out as all romance should. Long late night phone calls. The giggling and the yearning to hear her voice again. To Wong Foo Thanks for Everyting, Julie Newmar.

But things has changed. As it developed, as it went on. Life happened. We do have our moments, we do have our times when I’m just gaga over Julie, but then there are moments where I just doubt the whole thing.

I guess it is like most wkw films, it is just a matter of bad timing. We just gone through a lot of shit that shouldn’t be happening so early in the relationship.

Then it came to now. Here and now. My doubts. My indecisions. My constant need for space. It just come to a quick slap in the face; a quick shattering epiphany as I realize my affections for her have been waning.

There are many factors that played into it. Many that I will not discuss, here and in this forum. But ultimately, I’m guessing it just has to do with me.

It is me. All me. It goes back to the root off my uber-ness hermit that I am. I’m just a hermit, who loves my space, my independence.

I just can’t imagine things being any different months, days from now. I will constantly need it and not be tied down by anyone. I’m a “free bird”, always looking to take flight. I can’t be tied down and caged. I just can’t. That’s what I feel in relationships; and it is not just here.

It is ultimately me being not ready to be in a relationship, to be tied down, to settle down. I have a wandering eye and I can’t do that to Julie.

I’m just not wired that way. I’m not wired to be in a relationship. There’s just too much shit that I can’t deal with. There’s just too much shit that I don’t want to deal with. There’s just too much.

Maybe I just have a feeling that I just finally got comfortable with who I am. I just finally fit my skin; I should just enjoy it. Enjoy it.

I don’t know what it is. It just seems I’m just rambling, looking for excuses to justify my actions. I’m not going to do that. It happened. It feels right, and I’m sticking to it.

This doesn’t mean that when I’m all done and ready to settle down, that she won’t be an option. It just means that she’s not an option now.

Maybe we can maintain our friendship…hopefully.

I don’t know. I don’t know.

Ha, maybe I just need drama in my life. Life is just going so well — drama free, relaxed, great — I just need something to shake things up.

So, besides that, all in all, life is good.

Tough decisions. This is a tough decision. I had to do it. I just had to. I have no choice because it is just unfair to Julie. Unfair. I can’t just lead her along, pull her along on a leash until I fix myself and figure out if I’m ready for this thing called a relationship. Looking at it, I’m really not. I’m really not ready to just see one person. I want to see other people. I want to try other things. I guess Hien has it right. He wants to do things, live life, explore, do the things he’s always wanted to do before he’s ready to settle down and find someone. Maybe that’s just me.

Being in a relationship is nice. Don’t get me wrong. The security of seeing someone that can make me laugh is great. The affection when I can get it is nice. But sometimes, I just feel like I need my space, being suffocated by this thing. I just want to go out and do my own thing with out anyone. I’m a hermit. A loner. Anit-social and ready to go. It’s just not me to be tied down.

I told a dear sweet ol’ cousin of mine that I’m not built to be in a relationship. She laughed it off and said that we all are. She has such nice words for me. But all in all, she says maybe I just haven’t found the right girl, the cheesey ol’ “the one”, that us romantics dream about. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Julie isn’t the one. Maybe there’s someone else out there that is for me….just maybe. I don’t know. But right now, I really don’t think there is. If she walked by in front of me, I wouldn’t even know. I’ll be too into my own shit to see it.

Who knows? I still have my life in front of me, and there are many twists and turns. Maybe I’ll be surprised one day. Maybe.

* * *

Dreams, hopes…dashed from this thing. Gone.

It just makes me think about my future. Will I ever be the husband, the father? I don’t know. It just seems like I’m my father, cold and distant. Being in a relationship shouldn’t be that, but it just feels that way. It feels more like a friendship than anything romantic. Again, it shouldn’t be that way, but it is.

Maybe I’m just not equipped for it. As it goes on, I take everything for granted and just let it fall apart, drifting apart, letting things go, not making an effort. I let things go.

I become the cold and distant person that I told myself that I will never be. But I guess that the apple doesn’t fall far from the proverbial apple tree.

I’m like my father. I am exactly like him. Maybe that’s too much of a bad thing. I don’t know.

* * *

It’s a lil’ funny but it makes sense how perspectives change as you grow up. Looking back to when I was a kid, it just seems that the grown-ups in my life then, my parents, teachers, family, they seem to be more “adult” than I am today.

Thinking back to when they were the same age as I am today, 29, they just seem to have a greater sense of being an adult.

It just baffles my mind as to why? I can’t seem to place it. What is so different about me now and them then? I don’t know.

Responsibilities? Maybe. They do have more responsibilities than I do have now. They have a family they need to take care. They have to work to support the family, make the big decisions of life that we all have to make. They have to take care of other things. They just seem more grown-up.

Even now, thinking back at them then, they just seem like they got things handled; a lot of things on their plate. I don’t know, it just makes me feel less than a adult.

I don’t know what I am. A big kid? I know I describe myself as that. In a way, I am. An adult? Really?

Just because I’m 29, doesn’t mean that I am. Honestly, I do think it is a matter of responsibility, things that one needs to take care of.

I have nothing. Not much responsibilites.

Grant it I’m a lot more grown up and got my shit more together than most of the people out there. I’m a fairly independent guy, taking care of my own shit, but does that really equate to being a responsible adult?

I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel like that, you know?

I have no kids to take care of..well besides Pickles. But he doesn’t really count. I have no kids. The only person I have to worry about is me. I work, and do the shit I need to do at work so I can make the money to pay my own bills, to put a roof over my head, to feed me. Sure, but it just doesn’t seem like that is the thing that makes me be an “adult”.

Sure, I have no ties to family when it comes to them supporting me. I don’t. The only thing is that my mom is paying for my cell phone bill, which I can pay for myself, which I want to pay for my own, but it is on a family plan that my mom is paying for.

But other than that, I am totally self sufficient.

I don’t know, I always have this idea that one becomes an adult when they have to live and think about someone else other than themselves. Obviously that is not me, for I only have myself. I have no one to take care of but me, and only me.

I don’t know, it just seems that I’m such irresponsible, not doing the things that I need to do…and that is mostly chores, cleaning the house, and being more on top of things, like being more proactive about my passions and my interests. Writing. Photography. Movies.

Sometimes I just feel like a big slacker, and slackers are more early twenties, out of college. I’m not that at all.

So, what am I?

Not an adult. A bachelor? hahahaha. I just don’t know.

Maybe there’s just so many generational differences since the good ol’ days of yore. We have your Gen-X, Gen-Y, MTV-Gen…and the list goes on. Times are a changing, and I guess I have gotten trapped in the tide swell and washed away with them. Who knows?

Maybe there’s just a lack of fulfillment in things period. Maybe. Who knows? Who knows indeed.

I think this will be the end to my first official blog on this thing. It didn’t go in the direction that I wanted to, but I’m not going to complain. Not at all.

Bad Rhymes

2004-08-14

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Love is a dim and fading light

I see you on a daily basis
Watching you watching me
Stealing shy glances that we both don’t see

You talk to me and build me up
I construe your attention as affection
Leaving me drunk with your essence

I join a group to confess my sins
It clears the soul and brings realization
I’m a puppet entangled with your strings

Now knowing what I know about love
I rebuild my heart with ice and iron
It keeps me steely cold from your glances

I keep to myself not talking to you
Hoping that these feelings will fade away
It doesn’t because my heart melts for you

I mend my heart again trying to find a way
But there is no way when it comes to love and lust
So I go through the cycle with you day after day

2004-08-14

blogs

The uber-ness flaws of the all too much hermit loner

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It happened again, the could be end all be all of things between me and the great ol’ Selena Kyle. Fights of talking and space and miscommunication because of the lack of thinking in the heat of the whole mess.

I couldn’t think, I couldn’t think of a reason to tell her that it needs to be done or why I’m acting the way that I am acting. Whether she will understand, I don’t know. I really don’t know if she will or want to understand why I am the way I am.

Space. Loner. Hermitude. I love my space. I LOVE MY SPACE. I can’t stress that enough. And it is not because of Selena that I need it. Not her at all. I need it for me, my own sanity.

Psychologically, I’m sure I know why I have such a need of space. There is no compromise on this. I need my space. I don’t think that this will ever change. EVER. I love my space, my time, my alone time, to just be with myself, unwind, watch a movie or read, and not just deal with anyone. SPACE. MY SPACE. My own little sanctuary.

Growing up, at the age of 16, I have pretty much decided I wanted to be on my own. To do my own thing. Growing up, all I know is my family and not much more. Just family. My over protective parents and my brother and my grandparents. Family.

I love them, I do, but I’ve always wanted to be on my own. Being up there, with them, it just feels suffocating. I need someone to answer to, to let know what my plans are and to do things. With that, in the great ol’ double edge sword, I learned to be a hermit, and I learned, no YEARNED, no DESIRED, to be on my own. To make my own mistakes, to do my own thing. To succeed, to fail. On my own. My own thing.

I literally have to move away from them. 1,000 miles away. To have my own space. And it worked. It took a fucking long ass time and my father dying for me to grow up and get comfortable with myself and my skin. But overall, I got it. I got my independence. I get to do what I want to do without having to tell anyone or answer to anyone. I’m no longer suffocated. I get to sit home in my own little world and do my own thing of unwinding and relaxing.

What a life!

People will look at that and not understand. What kind of life is that? You are just letting you life pass you by, sitting at home and not doing anything. True, but it is my life. Not answering to anyone. Doing my thing. Doing what I want to do.

And overall, I have my space, my independence. My own being.

Selena, dear ol’ Selena, needs to understand that it is not about her. Not about her at all. It is all me and my psychological issues of wanting space. And ultimately, I don’t think that is going to change. I will always constantly need my space. I don’t think it is something that I can give up. No. I can’t.

I made my sacrifices. Growing up, being on my own for so long, from the sweet ol’ age of 22, I’ve had my own space. From the sweet ol’ age of 26 or 27, I’ve grown into who I am today, comfortable in my own skin. I have my found self of me…what many people have been searching their twenties or maybe their own life for.

That is the smart ass dick who constantly needs space.

To go from having all my weeknights alone to do what I want and my weekend days and nights to do what I want, living my life as I please, not answering to anyone….perfection…to being with someone 4-5 times a week, is a drastic change in my life. It is a drastic drastic compromise I have to live with, a decision that sometimes I regret, but I need to do to change. That’s ultimately, what I want to do, but again, it’s tough. It’s new. It’s scary, and sometimes it is SUFFOCATING. It isn’t because of Selena, no. It is because of my innate need to need space. All rooted in me growing up with my family.

That will never change. I need my space.

So when I see Selena’s stuff encroaching in my little sanctuary of home, it’s scary. It’s frightening. Change. Things are happening and I don’t know how I feel. I don’t mind the things of convenience but when it comes to clothes, that I don’t understand. There’s no purpose of it being there. It’s not a matter of convenience at all. It is something that is encroaching on my space.

Maybe she’s just marking her territory, or maybe to her, it is a matter of convenience to leave them there, but I don’t know. It’s scary. It’s frightening. It points to something that is serious, but it really isn’t. To her at least.

To me, in my mind, we aren’t just dating. We are actually going out. She’s my girlfriend. I even changed from saying “the girl I’m dating” to “my girlfriend”…because to me, that is what we are, and also because it is easier to say. But to her, she doesn’t see it that way. We are only dating, not exclusive, and are able to date other people.

I can never date anyone else, because it would require me to give up more time than I’m willing to give up, and also, I haven’t met anyone else that made me want to spend more time with. Almost all of my time I have been spending with Selena.

Again, ideally, I would love to have a relationship where we two are able to spend time together and that we both have a separate life outside the relationship. Maybe I do need to find someone that needs their own space too, to be able to do things on their own without the need for my company. That would be ideal and I know of only one relationship that is that way.

It seems that even Bradley and Rut-to-the-ledge have the same problems before. But eventually, they made a compromise.

I have compromised, but again, it just seems that I need more space. And honestly, looking ahead, I don’t know that if that will ever change in me. Not anytime soon.

I would just love to have my free time and just go to a movie on my own, to sit there and relax and just watch and not worry about entertaining anyone. I just want to be able to sit down and watch, analyze a movie, because they mean so much to me. Movies, films, are my life, my passion. It is something that I want to take part in making, and I watch to learn, not just to be entertained.

Sometimes I will rent movies to watch just because I want to learn from it, because it is similar to a movie that I am writing. So I need to watch it and learn from it when I can. Grant it, again, that I can make the compromise to invite Selena to watch, but other times, there are just movies that I need to see and waiting is not an option. I don’t know. I ‘m just stubborn.

I’m just stubborn to change, to give up my valued independence and space. Something that I sacrificed so much for. I lost so much because I needed this NEED for space.

I wasn’t there when my beloved grandmother passed away. I wasn’t there when my father passed away. Things I had to sacrifice, things that made me regret moving down here to find myself, to find my independence, to pursue my dream.

I gave up being with my family, my loving father and mother, to pursue this movie thing. Movies are important to me. They are a livelihood that I want to have.

So, watching these movies, needing my space, not having someone to answer to means that much to me because I gave up so much, and lost many that are near and dear to me because of this selfish need to get my own space.

All in all, it is not a matter of being with Selena or Selena herself that is causing this problems. I know for DAMN SURE if I was with someone else, this would happen. I will always feel suffocated and need my space.

It is just a matter of finding someone that understands that, a matter of finding someone that is willing to give that to me.

If not, then I’ll just be alone, with my space, and I’ll be okay with that.

I have to be.

blogs

The One I Gave My Heart To

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How can the one I gave my heart to just go ahead and throw it out and stomp on it the way she did? How could I have fallen so blindly into this lust of affection and attention knowing all too well what will happen?

Am I a fool to believe that she can be different, that she will be better than the rest? I must be a fool to think that way since it seems to be happening again.

The wretched pain of yearning and not knowing what everything is about. She keeps close but distant, the ultimate game of have but can never have.

It’s a evil game as this poor marionette is manipulated by the heartless puppet-master, stringing him along, making him jump through hoops to prove to her that he means everything he said. She is special, beautiful, and truly a wonder.

Yet, she plays games. She has my heart on the ground with her heels over it, ready to stomp and squish. My heart is nothing but a bug that doesn’t deserve to live. It is a nuisance that doesn’t needs to be ended.

My heart, my heart, my poor little heart that only seems to beat because that’s the only thing that it is sure of doing.

Everything else is a mystery, a mystery that it doesn’t want to solve. Why? Why?

It’ll just end up in more heartache. It’ll just end up in more questions with no answers. The frustration it feels is legitimate as it goes about its business.

Such a sucker for love; a fool for love. Nothing more can come out of this. Nothing good can come out of this. It is just a petty game that it can’t afford to play anymore.

* * *

It seems like it has been a while since I’ve written in this dear ol’ blog of mine. It comes to a time where I really don’t have much to say but have everything to say. My mind seems to be a jumble mess of mixed emotions.

There is joy, regret, laughter, sadness. A mixed bag.

I just don’t think I can clear out these emotions anytime soon. They are just here and it seems it will always be here regardless of whatever happens. It will always be here despite everything I’ve tried to do to trust.

There’s always that lingering feeling of doubt, of what is happening, of what is us, and what is this, and what?

I just don’t understand anymore, and it just seems that I’m just a fool to believe that it can be anything different than what I’ve already been through. Who knows? Maybe she is telling me the truth and I should respect her privacy and trust that she is true.

Trust.

There is that word again. When can I ever trust people fully again? When?

I don’t know anymore. I don’t know much about anything anymore except that life goes one with the beat of time. Life is just life and I just need to face it as it comes.

SERIOUSLY

If it happens again, if my heart breaks again, I just have to allow it to happen. If she lies to me, then she lies to me and I have to deal with that. If she actually does have something that I need to know or should to know and she doesn’t tell me, then that is something that I need to deal with.

People are selfish. They only want the best for themselves and nothing else. No one is ever that selfless. Never. Not even me.

* * *

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LOVE PAIN FATE

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My eyes and mind cloud over as the remnants of the alcohol takes over, leaving me the ickiness of the “icky-shuffle” of my brain. It happens time and time again, more frequent now with my tired eyes and tired body.

Old. My body can’t take this shit anymore. Old. I’m getting too old for this shit. I’m getting too old for these late night excursions and drinking drinks of multiple ounces. Just too old for this shit.

I guess it wasn’t the drinks that actually put me over, but more of the combination of many factors that put me over the edge. Just horrible.

Yesterday was a mess day of sickness and queasiness. Just a blah day of the worst kind. Just a blah day of the worst kind.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt that way. The movie didn’t help, nor did the lack of sleep.

It’s just funny how things are. It has to be an age thing or something, because when I was young and the insomniac that I was, I had no problems at all with the 4-5 hours of sleep that I got. Sometimes it was much less. Now, anything less than 5 or 6, I get a grumpy mess of zombie flesh.

My mind just doesn’t work. There’s no focus, there’s no relevant or significant thoughts. All there is is the constant reminder of why I should not be drinking, why I should not be staying up so late, and why I am just old. There is only pain. PAIN.

Just a walking zombie of messed up emotions of pain and pain. There is nothing more as I try to put on my best face and hide my queasiness as I show up at the family dinner. I couldn’t do anything but just sit there and eat and just be quiet in my own little hermit way of antisocialness.

I smile my polite smile when I need to. Ask my polite questions when I need to. Swear off the alcohol when I need to.

I sit there in misery as the young’ins laugh at my pain and my misery. It is LOVE when you know that family can laugh at you and you don’t get pissed. It is love when your family can laugh at you and your pain and your misery.

Because it is only a small insignificant pain. It isn’t anything drastic, life threatening or life changing. It was just a bad hangover. A tired mess of BLAH!

I felt like shit. Words of concern as my uncles and aunts ask about my well being; of why I am not as fun as I use to be. Concerns of why I’m not drinking. Am I quitting? Just a simple “I’m tired” and “I had too much to drink last night” was all I can manage.

It is true.

Actually, I didn’t have that much. Not that much at all. It was a decent night that led to a horrible morning. A disgusting morning of ugh.

Sigh.

Home is what I yearned for. My loving bed that never betrayed me before. My favorite thing in the world when I feel that way. I want to make love to it just by being there, wrapped up in my blankie and just die. And I did.
* * *

It’s raining. It’s been raining for the past week, week and a half. Some of the days were bad, horrible. Just a torrential downpour of precipitation. It even woke me from a deep slumber.

It’s refreshing to see the rain, overcast skies, and just downright feeling of home.

I miss the rain. The lovely sweet softness of falling rain on my head. Tiny rainy drops that caresses you in the tantalizing shower.

I just can’t believe why anyone would not like the rain. It cleanses the soul. It cleanses everything that it touches, making it new and refreshed.

It just changes the landscape and the people a little bit. None of this rushed impatience that I’m so use to down here. Everything is at a crawl with the eerie emptiness because not that many people like to go out in the rain.

Just a refreshing mess of love that I enjoy when it appears here in the land of the SoCal sun. It’s a change of pace, a pace that reminds me of home. A slowed pace of relaxed laid-backness of just so whatever.

It’s rain. RAIN. I love the rain.

Jumping up and down in a puddle as the rain just pounds and pounds and pounds you from atop the sky.