here lies a ball player.

This isn't a love story.

But a romantic comedy nonetheless.

They warned about the violence in video games. The sex in movies. And the language on tv. But never about the romance in music.

That's when I met Paris.

The type of girl who made you feel bad for growing up. And for having written more essays in your life than 'I love yous'.

She tried to show me her Eiffel Tower. But I told her that's not what I'm here for. Then I let her see my sno-shack, even though I wasn't ready yet.

The type of girl they based main characters of off. And the type of girl they wrote songs about.

She didn't care that I liked country music. Or that I wrote about her in .99 cent composition notebooks.

The type of girl that made drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes look attractive.

Some days she'd wear pink. And other days she wouldn't even do her hair (those were the days she was most beautiful).

The type of girl that made you believe in the other side of 'sometimes'.

She'd wake me up in the middle of the night just to say hello.

The type of girl that could bring tears to your eyes with a black marker and a newspaper.


Now I see her in everything.


She ended up leaving me for New York. I don't blame her, he has a six-pack.
And he's a way better kisser than me, even though I meant it more.

But I promise you this, Paris will never forget her stint with Alpine Utah.

And I'm still trying to believe that there's life after Paris.
And I guess I'm still waiting for my happy ending.

But in the meantime, the wine is excellent. And I don't even drink.


"Umm... Aren't you a little young to be having a midlife crisis?"

"Whoever said I'd make it past thirty?"

i've never been good at goodbyes

My apartment was 5A.
I don't really know why I went. But that doesn't matter.
But I did go. And that's what matters.

The man above me, 6A, William Lee Barefield III, he was a ladies man. The French girls loved him. I would hear him up there every night with a different woman, screaming and laughing, and you know. He made me believe in sincerity.

The woman below me, 4A, Charlotte Charles, she was beautiful. I never actually saw her face, I only ever heard her voice. She would sing of Life, Love, and bowls of sugars in the kitchen in spring. She made me believe in beauty.

Then there was the girl who worked at the coffee shop down the street. Esther Greenwood. She would get me my coffee and pastry every morning. She was the type of girl that understood when you said, 'the usual'. Outside of my Mother, she deserved true love more than any other girl I had ever met.  She made me believe in 'reality'. And fairy tales.

Across the hall, 5B, was Cosmo Kramer. One time, I was on a late night stroll and I saw him run over a dog. He made me believe in potential. And his crazy friend, George Costanza. He made me believe in redheads.

Phyllis Dae Sloan, 7C.  We had the best elevator conversations. She was a lot more than small talk. Sometimes I wonder if she invented Paris. She made me believe in being myself even if it didn't make others 'happy'.

Ren Stevens, I don't even know what apartment number she was. But I saw her jump. What a way to die. She made me believe in effort.

The janitor, Greg Ostertag. I watched him grow the best moustache I have ever seen. He made me believe in not shaving.

In 3B, there was Eva Harper. We only talked once. She taught how to properly eat a cupcake. She probably won't remember that she did, but I always will. She made me believe in hellos.

The doorman was Harold Miner. No matter the weather or the time of night, he would always be there holding open the door. He told me about the dunk contest of '94. And everything he's learned since. I hope he knows I was listening. He made me believe in Paris.

Then there was Dick Tidrow. My roommate.  I was sick of cleaning up his messes, so I just started making messes with him. And somewhere in between my first cigarette and our late night talks, it happened. I think it was when I was listening to a Cat Stevens song. But I can't be sure. He taught me how to ask a girl on a date. He said I had to learn how to do the kissing part on my own, so I'm still working on that. Other things he taught me about: Paris, jealousy, dialogue, chairs, instructions, stealing, remembering, words, direct orders, duct tape, bricks, Life, Death, thoughts, fears, Love, and introductions. He made me believe in myself.

There were many others: Lois, Sally, Mimi, Gene, Susan, Rene, Pete, Mr.Fox. Just to name a few.


Everyone said something, at least once, that meant something to me.


Thank you.

Nursing home Carl

He never told me his actual name.
I called him Carl.
Gray-haired, war-veteran, nursing-home Carl. Cane and cardigan included.

"We met in Paris, 1st semester. We had know each other long before that, but that was the first time we met. It was in the library, we reached for the same book, Call of the Wild, Jack London. Me for a school report, her for entertainment." He leaned in toward me, resting upon his cane, his eyes widened through his thick black-framed glasses, "We made out, until we got kicked out." He sat back with a chuckle.

"I'll never forget that summer dress. Cream, with yellow flowers."

I looked up at him as he spoke, his lips were dry, as usual. His speech was slow, as if he was allowing the words to get to heaven before he spoke again.

"And, oh how'd she dance," he closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly, re-imagining it in his mind, "and i'm not talking about dancing like moving your hands and your arms and your feet," he waved his hands around and continued, "I'm talking about dancing like letting go."

"She would tell me things like, 'Many men hold a key to my heart, but you, you are the only man who was born with one,' And it wasn't the words she used or the way she said it, but the way that she meant it."

He looked off into the distance, "She always loved rooftops."

He broke eye contact with the distance, looked down, and began to chuckle, "I remember, one time," he was forced to stop as his chuckling grew to giggling, "one time, she was so mad at me," tears began to form in the corner of his eyes because of his laughter, his face wrinkled because of his smile, "she stomped her foot on the ground, pointed to the door, and yelled, in the dead of winter, 'Go get me a snow cone and don't come back 'til you do!'"

We both laughed. It grew quite, again he looked down, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his nose. Straightening the corners with his hands he looked up at me. The tears were still in his eyes, but they had changed, they were sadder. "She never did get that snow cone."

I too began to cry.

"And every time I get blood on my fingers," he now held back sobbing, "I want to blame her so badly," he paused, "but most of the time, it's merely just a paper cut."




I had only asked his religious beliefs.

i am just green with jealous rage right now

Nothing Gold Can Stay

by Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
                                                            
Love once found, is now but lost;
His heart, the only cost.
But boys like trees, they lose their leaves,
And girls and wind, the conveyers of grief.
The first is the harshest of the Winters,
The heart, freezing over it's cracks and splinters;
Snow once beautiful, bright and white
Fades to gray, like the dying of light
It all, eventually melts away,
For nothing gold can stay.
                                                            

The first verse by the Master, the second by me.

9 to 5

9 to 5 job.

9 to 5 man.

9 to 5 car.

9 to 5 wife.

9 to 5 relationship with my kids.

9 to 5 happiness.

9 to 5 towels, that are just for looks, not use.

9 to 5 music.

9 to 5 hope.

9 to 5 faith.

9 to 5 dog.

9 to 5 fantasy league.

9 to 5 death.

Please God, don't let me be defined.

i don't know

Marilyn Monroe isn't even that hot.

"those expectations look really good on you"

"why thanks, you're sporting society rather nicely yourself"

I really like Celine Dion. Sue me. 

I'm not going to be a doctor. And I don't really care if that makes you gag, swallow it. 

You can't have your head in the clouds and your feet on the ground at the same. So chose one.

"Well, you know, he's really grounded"

So much for dreams. 

Society.

I just want to be myself. 

"why do i have to see my reflection in the glass of the vending machine"

melancholy

I Skipped the Freedom Assembly

Destiny's a Dick

Dove's Are a Bunch of Superficial Beauty Queens

Even Poop is Better Than Loneliness

the wheels on the bus go round and round

The Bus Always Took Longer On Snowy Days

 

 

 

All of his friends are cold lunchers. He's a hot lunch kid. But he doesn't bother to eat at lunch anymore. Because it's different than it used to be. He'd always get but in line anyways. It seems like everything has been said already. No one told him that guys can get their heart broken. And that college applications cost $35. 

 

This is the place where pimples matter and personalities don't.

 

Empty faces reaching for exit signs. But the doors locked. Freedom assemblies and crappy toilets. And the kind of stories we're suppose to tell our kids about. I made it in the yearbook 3 times.

 

Maybe I'm doing high school wrong.

 

And I'm sorry I defecated on your porch. Multiple times. But I had to do something rebellious before I grew up. It's all just part of the process. Your Mom can be really intimidating.

 

And some how the preppy kids are so happy.

And the cheerleaders are way hot.

But you're beautiful.

And I'll love you forever. Or at least until my blue jeans fade.

 

Maybe I'm doing high school perfect.

it's all poetry baby

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver

"Can I Kick It?"

Can I kick it? (Yes, you can!)
Well, I'm gone (Go on then!)

Can I kick it? To all the people who can Quest like A Tribe does
Before this, did you really know what life was?
Comprehend to the track, for it's why cuz
Gettin measures on the tip of the vibers
Rock and roll to the beat of the funk fuzz
Wipe your feet really good on the rhythm rug
If you feel the urge to freak, do the jitterbug
Come and spread your arms if you really need a hug
Afrocentric living is a big shrug
A life filled with *horn* that's what I love
A lower plateau is what we're above
If you diss us, we won't even think of
We'll nipper the dog and give a big shove
This rhythm really fits like a snug glove
Like a box of positives is a plus, love
As the Tribe flies high like a dove

Can I kick it? (Yes, you can!)
Well, I'm gone (Go on then!)

Can I kick it? To my Tribe that flows in layers
Right now, Phife is a poem sayer
At times, I'm a studio conveyor
Mr. Dinkins, would you please be my mayor?
You'll be doing us a really big favor
Boy this track really has a lot of flavor
When it comes to rhythms, Quest is your savior
Follow us for the funky behavior
Make a note on the rhythm we gave ya
Feel free, drop your pants, check your ha-ir
Do you like the garments that we wear?
I instruct you to be the obeyer
A rhythm recipe that you'll savor
Doesn't matter if you're minor or major
Yes, the Tribe of the game, rhythm player
As you inhale like a breath of fresh air

-A Tribe Called Quest

The Case for Pluto

 

 

 

A list of things that matter but I can't figure out why:

That my bishop uses things like 'c' and 'u' when texting instead of 'see and 'you'. And that he likes New Order.

That the shade of lipstick they put on my mother's dead body for people to come look at bothers me more than any sin my dad has ever committed.

That my funeral better not be open casket.

That time I swore because I thought I was funny.

The fact that I use women's deodorant because the other stuff irritates my armpits.

That we use a fake Christmas tree.

That children are happier than most adults.

You.

Her.

Poetry. (like "love and beauty and truth")

That my step-dad was a redhead.

Moustaches.

Making people laugh.(I use to think that the solution to every problem in the entire universe was laughter, but then I realized I wasn't funny enough)

That I used to be able to dance.

That I can only drink milk when it's really cold.

Why I like the word fickle so much.

That I was in the room when my niece took her first steps.

The 'i' before 'e' rule.

Pluto.

That you probably won't take the time to read this whole thing.

Dick Tidrow.

That I just really want to share a carton of eggnog with you and I don't even like eggnog that much.

That I've never kissed anyone.

I weighed more when I was seventeen.

That this isn't for you, it's for me.

Bazooka bubblegum.

That I'll never be James Bond.

Predicted to be Sunny









Reaching for the Stars



 

The scene:

New York,

suffering,

and Champagne;

only to discover

they weren't going anywhere.

 

 



The Pressures of Being Yourself

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If only live was as simple as blackout poetry. Not just keeping the good parts, but keeping the necessary parts.

 

Opinion,

ruined by storm,

predicted to be sunny;

 because we understand the nature of science.

scientists, sting rays, and idiots

To the dickweed scientist with a telescope that decided that pluto wasnt a planet: Screw you.

Did you even take into account that pluto was my favorite planet? That I was the youngest of 9?

Yeah, it's taking me a lot longer to make it around the sun. But I'm enjoying every step of the way.

I've always kind of been out there.

The others have always had more potential for life anyways.


To the sting ray that killed the crocodile hunter: Screw you.

And to the idiot that cancelled Even Stevens: Screw you.

"A happy childhood...is the worst possible preparation for life"

 

I remember laughing when everyone else was crying.

 

I remember when Karl Malone went to the Lakers. I remember swearing at Megaman. I remember the time I didn't have any clean underwear so I had to wear my sisters. I remember getting called to the principals office. I remember the time I left a bunch of chocolates on my bed and then I fell asleep watching a movie and my sister laid me on my bed without turning the lights on. I remember waking up thinking I pooped the bed and wondering how it got on my face.

 

I remember wanting to be one of the cousins. I remember Mrs. Cook. I remember thinking Mrs. Cook was hot, I was in the third grade. I remember when school was fun. I remember when my best friend Austin moved to Texas. I remember that he didn't move to Austin, Texas.

 

I remember spankings. I remember the daisy dukes. I remember:

"Do you ever feel like really not talking to someone?"

"Yeah, all the time"

"That's how I feel right now"

I remember the feeling. And the silence. I remember leaving in the middle of the night.

 

I remember Sam. I remember how cold his house was. And the thermostat was at 75.

 

I remember making the promise with my brother to be best buds forever and our secret handshake. I don't think he remembers. I remember the first holiday that wasn't as fun as it used to be. I remember the feeling after lying. I remember becoming desensitized to that feeling.

 

I remember being funny. And I remember being able to dance.

 

I remember not peeing in a toilet for two weeks to prove I wasn't the one peeing on the toilet seat. I remember the McCombers telling me to stop peeing in their yard.

 

I remember her last breath. I remember the lipstick they put on her for the viewing, it wasn't her color.

 

I remember trying to fulfill the expectations. I remember trying to be as good.

 

"I was hoping to be happy by seventeen"

#infatuation

"Sharks are like dogs, they only bite when you touch their private parts" 

You didn't break my heart. But my lips they waited for your kiss and it never came and now they are cracking. And I feel it every time I smile. 

I'll still be waiting outside but I'm tired of knocking and my hand hurts. And for all I know it probably annoys you. 

We could have had the stuff people travel around the world for and the sort of thing people sing songs about. But I'm too shy. 

"There is only one girl in the world for you and she probably lives in Tahiti" 

If people don't believe in mind control, they obviously haven't met you.

It's like you baked cookies and I washed all the dishes you used but I didn't even get a cookie.

This is pointless. It doesn't even matter. It won't change anything. And it's all just infatuation. I'm giving up. Giving up on you*. But what does it matter. It's all about the booty anyway. 

It's all about the booty.

*-but if you wanted to go to a haunted house or something, I would be cool with that

AK-47

I'm scared of this post because I mean it.
I know more about blogger settings than I do about changing my oil. And it seems like my pants are getting tighter.

And with each blog post I'm getting worse at basketball.

So take me back.

Take me back to when I didn't have feelings. When I wasn't trying to change the world. When happiness was a Symphony bar. And love was going to a Jazz game. 

"It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song"

Take me back to when Christmas was still fun. To when I didn't sleep on Christmas Eve. To when it was about the presents. And not how the hell I'm going to pay for presents. 

Take me back to when Mom was still alive and I didn't know Dad was a douchebag. Take me back to recess. And Pokemon, and Gameboy colors, and Andrei Kirilenko's rookie season. 

"I thought I saw my childhood the other day, but it didn't recognize me"

Maybe you can't take me back. But at least put it in a shoe-box and bury it in the backyard. The backyard where anything use to be possible. And shed a tear for me. 

And when you see him, give him my old Buzz and Woody, and my Andrei Kirilenko rookie card. Tell him I'm sorry that Woody's hat is missing and most of Buzz's arm. And I'm sorry that Andrei Kirilenko sucks. But tell him, that's what makes them great. Tell him the same week his Mom dies his favorite basketball is going to get a hole in it. Tell him I'm sorry I can't fix holes, I can only find the beauty in them. Tell him the future might not be brighter, but at least there is a future. And tell him, tell him that I love him. 

And what scares me about this post is that I mean it.

"Father, why have you given me this desire to fight then made me such a stinky warrior?"

honeymooners

Rock out like you like the way your signature looks.

Rock out like Creative Writing is a full year class. Rock out like Weezer is good as they used to be. Like it is still as fun as it used to be. Rock out like Harold Miner just quoted you. And Charlotte Charles just commented on your blog. 

Rock out like she just texted you.

Rock out like you are on your way to your honeymoon. Like they are proud of you. Like your best friend doesn't get all the girls. Rock out like you know why you are here. Rock out like Andrew WK. Rock out like you are the favorite uncle. Rock out like it's T-shirt weather. Rock out like your Red Hot Chili Peppers cd isn't scratched. Like you just beat Street Fighter 2.

Rock out like it doesn't matter. Because it does. 

"One great rock show can change the world"

Never forget that.
And that's an order.

a prayer of thanks

Dear God of Colors, 

Thank you for the Blues. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for all the phone calls.

I thank thee for Black. Thank you for having a troubled past. Thank you for understanding. And thank you for taking a chance.

White. Thank you for breaking my heart. You taught me I'm not all about the booty.

Thank you for Yellow. I like our future. 

Thank you for the Grays. Thanks for making me want to be a better person.

For Reds. For being my opposite. And all that's done for me. And all that you've done for me.

Thank you for the Indigos. Thanks for being different, yet the same. Thank you for existing. Thank you for making me want to exist. 

Thank you for Green and Brown. For being home. Thank you for experiencing. Thank you for rising above and taking me with you. 

In the name of Art, we pray. Amen.

Dads and Duct Tape

"you're mad at your father, not at me"

Dad-

Remember that time I found the coupon for the topless cleaning service in your room. I didn't even know what topless meant.

Remember all the rated R movies you said where made by Disney.

Remember all the Fruit by the Foots you bought me with someone else's money.

Remember that time the tooth fairy never came.

Then Mom died and I couldn't figure out why I wasn't going to live with you. Then they told me. They only told me somethings, but I figured out the rest.

Thanks for all the things you taught me. And I'm not saying you're a good teacher.

Last Father's day, I looked up your mug shot on the internet.

I'm scared. I'm scared that when ever I go out in public, I'm going to see you. And duct tape can't fix that. But duct tape can fix my shoes.

And I care more about my shoes than I do my father.

Duct tape forgives, but duct tape never forgets.

-Your Son

Death, Life, Motel 6

Life and Death are having a sexual affair. And I'm trapped under the bed.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
The bed creaks, life moans, death's breathing heavy's, and my face starts bruising.

"I won't tell God, if you don't tell Lucifer"
"Deal, same time tomorrow?"


I find it odd that Death never dies. What gives him the right to take souls out of this world, when he has never experienced it himself. But I guess to die you have to live. And Death doesn't deserve to live.

Life's always had a thing for bad boys. It's no wonder she fell for Death. He was always good with words.
"Baby, without me, you wouldn't survive"
She knew it. She knew no one would appreciate her without Death.

celine dion is a liar

beautiful faceless women

 

 

 

We'd go to family reunions and our weird aunts would marvel about how in love we are. We'd give talks on the sameday and teach primary together.

 

We'd kiss in a tube slide, while it's raining outside.

 

We'd go on roadtrips and listen to mix cd's we made. We'd read books and recite poems.

 

I'd cook you breakfast and you'd make me dinner and even though you burnt the chicken, I'd still eat it.

 

And I'd do the dishes. Everynight. I'd even let you hold the remote control.

 

We'd go on bike rides in the morning and walks at night. And we'd talk for hours.

 

And oh, how'd we cuddle. Because cuddling is better than sex.

 

We'd have kids. I'd teach them to throw a spiral and you'd teach to play the piano. I'd read them a bedtime story and you'd sing them to sleep. We'd teach them to love God, love others, but do whatever they want.

 

We would be poor. But just to prove money isn't happiness. And I'd kiss you every morning before I went to work. And I'd never work saturdays.

 

 

But Santa Clause isn't real

 

And neither are you

 

But St. Nick, that man was real.

 



 

 



 



The Man

"Yes! But you can't just say it, man. You've got to feel it in you're blood and guts! If you wanna rock, you gotta break the rules. You gotta get mad at the man!"

This is all about sticking it to the man.

If you don't play the game you can't win. So I'll play your game, but I won't fall for your traps. Because I've seen the middle aged men and women in the depths of despair. And I've seen the old timers with a heart full of regret.

I'll conform to your 'society'. But fear me. Fear Dick Tidrow.

I'll go to your 17 sessions of attendance school. I'll spend way too much money on pointless caps and gowns. But you can't stop me from heating up leftover lasagna at 1 in the morning. 

You can tell me you want me to succeed, then try to prevent me from doing so. You can take it all but I'll still find happiness. Because I've seen the middle aged men and women smiling. And I've seen the old timers whose hearts are filled with old joy. 

"If you wanna rock, you gotta break the rules."

I'm gonna tell you something the man doesn't want you to know, you rock. 

"One great rock show could change the world"

So here's to the kids who where raised in hell. 

Let's raise hell.