Click on titles for links.
1. Words
I do my best thinking in the car and it's a hard process to convert into words. This piece also inspired the name of my site, Bled Out Onto A Page
2. At the water's edge
This was my first attempt with an abstract narrative and it's hard to describe how I feel about it while still sounding humble. Read it.
3. An old friend, Mediatech and Liquid Sex
I wrote this three years ago and it's funny just how much has changed and yet stayed the same.
4. Hollow
Dedicated to my baby girl. I love you, angel.
5. Deja Vu
Even though I started out writing songs, I wouldn't call myself a songwriter. I do like this one.
6. Vicarious self reflection
Here's what someone once said about this piece, "You have a tremendous knack for telling us everything we need to know, but nothing that we want."
7. Maybe insomnia's not so bad, after all
I've got video of me performing this on my site. It will haunt you.
8. Epiphany in the static
I absolutely adore this one and it contains what I think is the best line I've ever written. "I think in white noise."
9. A transient affair
This was a fictional piece where I tried to capture the guilt ridden confusion felt once the afterglow of a one night stand had faded. I don't like that last sentence but I have a feeling I'm going to be doing this for awhile, so fuck it.
10. Mafioso's requiem
This work of fiction is much more brutal. Can you see what's really happening?
11. To the girl who taught me the art of letting go
You have no idea how good this felt to write or cathartic it is to perform.
12. After the tone
Speaking of performing, this is my most requested. Go see it on my site, it's cool I'll wait.
13. Bemoan
Some wounds take longer to heal than others.
14. My Brand New Coat
This was the first genuinely positive piece I'd posted on this blog. It was followed days later by...
15. Loss
I miss you, Mark.
16. Just a taste
I spent an hour on the second to last sentence.
17. Harbinger Ch. 10: We interrupt this broadcast
While I'd rather you didn't start this story here, I feel this chapter is the most powerful.
18. Expulsion
The sequel to "At the water's edge", only in this one I get rid of my soul.
19. An examination of some recent comments I have received
This is my most viewed post; a fact which makes me smile.
20. My favorite memory of her
This was my first attempt at remembering fondly instead of hatefully mourning.
21. This has been a long time coming
My thanks to all of my readers, even if it's like pulling teeth for conversation sometimes. I love you all.
22. My time in a mental hospital Part 1 and Part 2: My first night
A deeply personal story which I will finish when I'm ready.
23. With time
And along came you.
24. The moment I knew I was meant to be a writer
My origin story.
25. Feel. Release. Heal.
Yes, my website does need instructions.
26. Since that moment
Heartbreaking fiction.
27. For Ana
You can't read that one. It's hers.
28. This is what I want: A proclamation
To the future!
Fin.
Growth
Before I get started, have some numbers.
2008
Number of posts: 44
Average per month: 3.66
2009
Number of posts: 63
Average per month: 5.25
2010
Number of posts: 49
Average per month: 4.98
2011
Number of posts for January: 51
Number of posts for February: 22
I'm sure most of you who read this start with the front page and stop when you get sick of it. To get the full effect of the newer pieces, you must first read every other post which proceeds it. I don't think anyone has, though, which creates my biggest challenge as a writer.
I have to somehow manage to tell a seemingly endless story, while at the same time not getting so tangled in its own continuity that it turns off new readers. I think some exercises were more successful than others, but I stand by them all. But to my new readers, I promise you will see the bigger picture if you start from the beginning.
2008
Number of posts: 44
Average per month: 3.66
2009
Number of posts: 63
Average per month: 5.25
2010
Number of posts: 49
Average per month: 4.98
2011
Number of posts for January: 51
Number of posts for February: 22
I'm sure most of you who read this start with the front page and stop when you get sick of it. To get the full effect of the newer pieces, you must first read every other post which proceeds it. I don't think anyone has, though, which creates my biggest challenge as a writer.
I have to somehow manage to tell a seemingly endless story, while at the same time not getting so tangled in its own continuity that it turns off new readers. I think some exercises were more successful than others, but I stand by them all. But to my new readers, I promise you will see the bigger picture if you start from the beginning.
Notion # 55
Sometimes you'll say you do something really well or name a quality about yourself you like, but it's out of confidence instead of arrogance.
Routine
At 5:15 my first alarm goes off and I don't hear it. They usually aren't able to stir me until at least a half hour later. When the one on my laptop goes off I hit snooze and don't have a memory of anything until 6:30. At this point I'm going to be pushing to make it to work on time. This should also bother me much more than it does.
I sit up on the couch, blankets and pillows piled all around me. I don't know why, but I can't sleep in my bed anymore, so I've grown quite fond of the living room. While in the shower, luke warm water cascades off of my face and always leaves me feeling unsatisfied. I dry off, step out and begin my routine. Gel in the hair, brushing of the teeth, deodorant and then I get dressed. This never changes unless I'm running so late I don't want to deal with my hair and rock a hat instead.
There's no enthusiasm during my daily ritual. It's just another thing I do nowadays. I've lost the drive in my life here that I used to have. I'm not sure how to get it back, or if I even really want to.
I'm in my car now, driving to work. When Russ Martin is on a commercial break I listen to songs from my MP3 player as loud as I can possibly stand. I never really feel like I've woken up; my mind still fresh with our conversation the night before.
At work I go through the motions. More is asked of me and I want to do less of it every day. It's hard, you know? When after so many years of soul searching you actually discover the things you want, it's painful when they're both half a country away.
I wish I was stong about this like you are. I never hear you say anything about how hard things are in your life. I admire your optimism and I promise I'm trying to be the same way, but, like I said, it's difficult.
I barely say anything in the conversations I have with people around me and they're always the same. I don't feel connected to the people here anymore and I question if I ever did. This perpetual disconnect only intesifies the dream like state in which I'm constantly finding myself.
I've tried to explain all of this, but I don't think anyone really understands. They simply tell me everyone has to do things they don't want to and this is where those conversations usually end. While this is inevitable in some instances, I think this defeatist attitude is what seperates myself from others around me.
I've never been one to settle, really. No one is guaranteed a very long time on this planet and once yours is up, that's all you get. I guess I've finally decided to use mine to pursue the things that make me happy and hold on to them once they are found.
These are just some of the thoughts that bounce back and forth through my head when working fails to hold my interest. Then, I get back in my car and turn the radio up so loud it annoys the motorist around me, but I don't care. This is the only joy I really get from being here these days.
Things are better at home, if only because it's easier to distract myself from the things which have weighed heavy on my mind. Eventually, after over 12 hours of watching the clock my favorite time of the day arrives.
It's during this time you and I are actually able to talk uninterupted. When we have these talks the distance doesn't seem so great and I let myself pretend we're the only people left in the entire world. Even though this part of the routine makes the rest of the day harder because of the fatigue it sometimes brings, I wouldn't trade it for anything. These are the moments I live for nowadays and your strength helps me find a way to soldier on.
After several hours, when we can no longer keep our eyes open, we say our goodnights and retire until the next day. I force myself to stay awake so I can burn the details of our conversation into my memory. Finally, sleep comes to claim me and 4 hours later the entire routine starts again.
I sit up on the couch, blankets and pillows piled all around me. I don't know why, but I can't sleep in my bed anymore, so I've grown quite fond of the living room. While in the shower, luke warm water cascades off of my face and always leaves me feeling unsatisfied. I dry off, step out and begin my routine. Gel in the hair, brushing of the teeth, deodorant and then I get dressed. This never changes unless I'm running so late I don't want to deal with my hair and rock a hat instead.
There's no enthusiasm during my daily ritual. It's just another thing I do nowadays. I've lost the drive in my life here that I used to have. I'm not sure how to get it back, or if I even really want to.
I'm in my car now, driving to work. When Russ Martin is on a commercial break I listen to songs from my MP3 player as loud as I can possibly stand. I never really feel like I've woken up; my mind still fresh with our conversation the night before.
At work I go through the motions. More is asked of me and I want to do less of it every day. It's hard, you know? When after so many years of soul searching you actually discover the things you want, it's painful when they're both half a country away.
I wish I was stong about this like you are. I never hear you say anything about how hard things are in your life. I admire your optimism and I promise I'm trying to be the same way, but, like I said, it's difficult.
I barely say anything in the conversations I have with people around me and they're always the same. I don't feel connected to the people here anymore and I question if I ever did. This perpetual disconnect only intesifies the dream like state in which I'm constantly finding myself.
I've tried to explain all of this, but I don't think anyone really understands. They simply tell me everyone has to do things they don't want to and this is where those conversations usually end. While this is inevitable in some instances, I think this defeatist attitude is what seperates myself from others around me.
I've never been one to settle, really. No one is guaranteed a very long time on this planet and once yours is up, that's all you get. I guess I've finally decided to use mine to pursue the things that make me happy and hold on to them once they are found.
These are just some of the thoughts that bounce back and forth through my head when working fails to hold my interest. Then, I get back in my car and turn the radio up so loud it annoys the motorist around me, but I don't care. This is the only joy I really get from being here these days.
Things are better at home, if only because it's easier to distract myself from the things which have weighed heavy on my mind. Eventually, after over 12 hours of watching the clock my favorite time of the day arrives.
It's during this time you and I are actually able to talk uninterupted. When we have these talks the distance doesn't seem so great and I let myself pretend we're the only people left in the entire world. Even though this part of the routine makes the rest of the day harder because of the fatigue it sometimes brings, I wouldn't trade it for anything. These are the moments I live for nowadays and your strength helps me find a way to soldier on.
After several hours, when we can no longer keep our eyes open, we say our goodnights and retire until the next day. I force myself to stay awake so I can burn the details of our conversation into my memory. Finally, sleep comes to claim me and 4 hours later the entire routine starts again.
Pictures II
A couple of nights ago she sent me a picture of herself in a bikini while at the beach. As happy as I was to see her in such a skimpy outfit I saw something even better hidden deep within the image. So I cropped it into a panaronic image of her face on the far left followed by nothing but blue. I saved it as the background to my work computer because her beauty keeps me going when times get rough and gives me a future worth looking forward to.
I realized through a conversation with her how she really doesn't have any pictures of me and started to feel guilty. On the way home I brainstormed about the different aspects of my personality I wanted to capture. As soon as I got home I ate and went straight to work. I had just finished taking the first set when my phone rang. It was Bobby from The Brooks Institute. (A film school I've recently applied for)
Him: Hey, Davlin. I just wanted to let you know I got the app, but we're missing an initial and we need to get it in as soon as possible.
Me: Sorry about that, Bobby. I'll get it back to you first thing in the morning.
Him: No worries, man. What are you doing?
This is when I told him about my project and he seemed into it.
Me: I've been experimenting with photography for awhile now and I really like it.
Him: Good, there's going to be a lot of that in your future.
He informed me the "Director of Admissions" (believe that was her title) wanted to call me to give me a second interview and I should be expecting to hear from her in a few days.
We then bullshitted for a bit and I thanked him for checking out my site.
Him: No problem, man. It's good. You've written some serious stuff.
Me: I appreciate that. And thanks again for everything else.
Him: No worries. We're gonna do everything we can to get you in. Have a good night; we'll talk later.
Me: You too, man. Thanks. Bye.
I think the timing's finally about to be right. I can feel the planets and stars shifting into place. We're already on our way and soon we'll be able to see each other in more than just pictures.
I realized through a conversation with her how she really doesn't have any pictures of me and started to feel guilty. On the way home I brainstormed about the different aspects of my personality I wanted to capture. As soon as I got home I ate and went straight to work. I had just finished taking the first set when my phone rang. It was Bobby from The Brooks Institute. (A film school I've recently applied for)
Him: Hey, Davlin. I just wanted to let you know I got the app, but we're missing an initial and we need to get it in as soon as possible.
Me: Sorry about that, Bobby. I'll get it back to you first thing in the morning.
Him: No worries, man. What are you doing?
This is when I told him about my project and he seemed into it.
Me: I've been experimenting with photography for awhile now and I really like it.
Him: Good, there's going to be a lot of that in your future.
He informed me the "Director of Admissions" (believe that was her title) wanted to call me to give me a second interview and I should be expecting to hear from her in a few days.
We then bullshitted for a bit and I thanked him for checking out my site.
Him: No problem, man. It's good. You've written some serious stuff.
Me: I appreciate that. And thanks again for everything else.
Him: No worries. We're gonna do everything we can to get you in. Have a good night; we'll talk later.
Me: You too, man. Thanks. Bye.
I think the timing's finally about to be right. I can feel the planets and stars shifting into place. We're already on our way and soon we'll be able to see each other in more than just pictures.
This is what I want: A proclamation
While in San Jose I attended a multi-media course for work. For 16 glorious hours I was able to learn about and experiment with things I truly have a passion for. My instructor had several years experience working at the BBC and he brought a fire to the course which kept everyone engaged.
Towards the middle of the second day he tasked us with filming an instructional video. The topic of my film was "How to use an elevator" and I was the only one who scouted the area first and already mapped out where to get the best shots. I teamed up with a 6 1/2 foot tall Swiss man and we became fast friends.
Let me paint the scene.
We're in the lobby of the Marriott around lunchtime, so the place is packed with busy executives and convention goers. I'm laying in the floor, shouting "Action" at my friend to walk down the hall way and "again" when someone walked into the back ground. Since filming elevators is tricky, we were constantly calling them, hopping in for a quick shot and then out to call another. Management finally came to ask us what hell we were doing. (we forgot to ask permission)
The whole experienced was rushed, chaotic and while it didn't turn out quite how I'd hoped, I loved every single fucking second of it.
My teacher played my video for the class and everyone loved it. He told me after that I had a raw talent for film and I needed to pursue it. That movie I made was less than a minute long, but it gave me more personal fulfillment that any other accomplishment in my entire professional career.
In the last week I've learned that I only want two things. I want to go to film school in California and I want her to come with me.
Towards the middle of the second day he tasked us with filming an instructional video. The topic of my film was "How to use an elevator" and I was the only one who scouted the area first and already mapped out where to get the best shots. I teamed up with a 6 1/2 foot tall Swiss man and we became fast friends.
Let me paint the scene.
We're in the lobby of the Marriott around lunchtime, so the place is packed with busy executives and convention goers. I'm laying in the floor, shouting "Action" at my friend to walk down the hall way and "again" when someone walked into the back ground. Since filming elevators is tricky, we were constantly calling them, hopping in for a quick shot and then out to call another. Management finally came to ask us what hell we were doing. (we forgot to ask permission)
The whole experienced was rushed, chaotic and while it didn't turn out quite how I'd hoped, I loved every single fucking second of it.
My teacher played my video for the class and everyone loved it. He told me after that I had a raw talent for film and I needed to pursue it. That movie I made was less than a minute long, but it gave me more personal fulfillment that any other accomplishment in my entire professional career.
In the last week I've learned that I only want two things. I want to go to film school in California and I want her to come with me.
Season
I'm sitting all alone,
in my apartment on a Saturday afternoon.
I feel like a loser,
but I've got no place else to go.
From my window I hear,
footsteps through halfway melted slush.
A firm reminder,
that winter will be over soon.
And then I'll be,
one more season closer to you.
in my apartment on a Saturday afternoon.
I feel like a loser,
but I've got no place else to go.
From my window I hear,
footsteps through halfway melted slush.
A firm reminder,
that winter will be over soon.
And then I'll be,
one more season closer to you.
We haven't been properly introduced. My names, Davlin. What's yours?
Over the last month I've really become immersed in tracking the stats of this blog. After doing the math I figure I've close to about 28 people who regularly follow my work. I currently have 14 people who follow it publicly and 2 in secret. (this both intrigues and irritates me)
Lately I find myself wondering about the other 12 I know nothing about. The only information I have are the countries they are from and all that does is further pique my curiosity.
If you do read my blog regularly drop me an email or sound off in the comments. I'm curious to know how you found this site, if anything really spoke to you and what makes you keep coming back.
You've spent a lot of time reading about my life, now I want to hear about yours.
Davlin
Lately I find myself wondering about the other 12 I know nothing about. The only information I have are the countries they are from and all that does is further pique my curiosity.
If you do read my blog regularly drop me an email or sound off in the comments. I'm curious to know how you found this site, if anything really spoke to you and what makes you keep coming back.
You've spent a lot of time reading about my life, now I want to hear about yours.
Davlin
Hello to my Canadian friend reading this on their Blackberry!
I just totally blew your mind didn't I?
Since that moment
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, buddy. I'm ok."
"You're just sad?"
"Yeah...I'm just sad."
"It's going to be ok, daddy. I love you." Our four year old son says as he embraces me with tiny arms made of wire. He's been having to comfort me like this a lot lately and it breaks my heart a little more each time.
I feel as if I'm failing him and your memory. I pray and go to church like I'm supposed to. I go to work everyday and support our child. All day long I stay strong, because I have to. Every night I sleep on the couch, because our bed is too big and it reminds me of what's missing. I also found that every time I slept in it, there was a little bit less or your scent still clinging to the unwashed sheets.
I think I died with you on that day in November. I remember it was the worst storm I'd ever seen and the roads outside were treacherous. Jeremy had a fever and we needed to get him something to take it down. We were still such new parents back then and didn't plan ahead for this, which left us staring out into the storm wondering what to do.
"Listen," I told you, "The drug store is right down the street. I'll go and be right back. It won't take 10 minutes."
"Allen, you've never driven on roads like this. I have. Besides, we don't even know if the store is open. I'm going to go and you're not going to fight me on this." Your eyes narrowed to show me your mind had been made up. Then they softened as you told me, "I'll be right back. I love you." Then you kissed me on the cheek and I never saw you again.
My life stopped when I received the news. It feels like ever since then I've never been able to move passed that moment. It's all as raw and painful as it was back then. I keep watching the driveway expecting your car to pull in or waiting for a phone call which will never come.
I look at Jeremy and he's growing up so fast. He asks about you and I'm able to remember a little bit less each time I tell him. Everything about you is fading away from me except the agony of your absence.
Now, he's holding me. Wishing he could make his daddy smile, take all of my pain away so we can be happy together. But he can't. And for that I am so, so sorry.
"Yeah, buddy. I'm ok."
"You're just sad?"
"Yeah...I'm just sad."
"It's going to be ok, daddy. I love you." Our four year old son says as he embraces me with tiny arms made of wire. He's been having to comfort me like this a lot lately and it breaks my heart a little more each time.
I feel as if I'm failing him and your memory. I pray and go to church like I'm supposed to. I go to work everyday and support our child. All day long I stay strong, because I have to. Every night I sleep on the couch, because our bed is too big and it reminds me of what's missing. I also found that every time I slept in it, there was a little bit less or your scent still clinging to the unwashed sheets.
I think I died with you on that day in November. I remember it was the worst storm I'd ever seen and the roads outside were treacherous. Jeremy had a fever and we needed to get him something to take it down. We were still such new parents back then and didn't plan ahead for this, which left us staring out into the storm wondering what to do.
"Listen," I told you, "The drug store is right down the street. I'll go and be right back. It won't take 10 minutes."
"Allen, you've never driven on roads like this. I have. Besides, we don't even know if the store is open. I'm going to go and you're not going to fight me on this." Your eyes narrowed to show me your mind had been made up. Then they softened as you told me, "I'll be right back. I love you." Then you kissed me on the cheek and I never saw you again.
My life stopped when I received the news. It feels like ever since then I've never been able to move passed that moment. It's all as raw and painful as it was back then. I keep watching the driveway expecting your car to pull in or waiting for a phone call which will never come.
I look at Jeremy and he's growing up so fast. He asks about you and I'm able to remember a little bit less each time I tell him. Everything about you is fading away from me except the agony of your absence.
Now, he's holding me. Wishing he could make his daddy smile, take all of my pain away so we can be happy together. But he can't. And for that I am so, so sorry.
An Inscrutable Conversation
CC, author of An Inscrutable Voyeur, just messaged me and it was one of the strangest conversations I've ever had.
CC: Can we talk?
Me: Sure. What's up?
CC: You said you've dealt with the supernatural. What happened to you?
Me: Well...bumps, voices, levitating objects, feelings of dread, attacks and molestations by things I can only describe as demons, an encounter with beings not of this world, multiple physical manifestations and a visit to hell. Though I'm not sure if that last one was genuine or the result of me taking two medicine cabinets worth of pills.
CC: Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?
Me: Was there a point to you messaging me or did you just want to be a judgmental prick?
CC: Oh, yeah. You know how some weird shit's been happening to me lately? It's gotten worse.
Me: How so?
CC: Well, about two hours ago I found another package. The words, "Watch ME", are written over it in black marker.
Me: Shit. Did you catch something on the surveillance tape?
CC: Yeah. I think I'm going crazy.
Me: What did you see?
CC: One moment there was nothing, then .02 seconds of static. Then it's just there. Nothing could move fast enough to put it there without being seen.
Me: I don't know what to say. Is there something wrong with the camera?
CC: There's nothing wrong with the fucking camera, okay? Something is happening to me and I don't know what to do.
Me: I think you need to watch it.
CC: Fuck that.
Me: Look, whatever is doing this isn't going to stop until it gets what it wants. The more you try to fight it, the more hostile it's going to become. Trust me on this one, watch it now or it's only going to get worse for you.
CC: I'm starting to lose my shit.
Me: That's understandable.
CC: I guess you're right, though. I'll watch it, but I need a day or two first.
Me: Keep me posted?
CC: Sure. Thanks for the advice or whatever it was.
Me: Before you leave, is it ok if I post this?
CC: Do you ever get a thought you don't have to post on the internet?
Me: Not lately, no.
CC: Fine, whatever.
CC: Can we talk?
Me: Sure. What's up?
CC: You said you've dealt with the supernatural. What happened to you?
Me: Well...bumps, voices, levitating objects, feelings of dread, attacks and molestations by things I can only describe as demons, an encounter with beings not of this world, multiple physical manifestations and a visit to hell. Though I'm not sure if that last one was genuine or the result of me taking two medicine cabinets worth of pills.
CC: Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?
Me: Was there a point to you messaging me or did you just want to be a judgmental prick?
CC: Oh, yeah. You know how some weird shit's been happening to me lately? It's gotten worse.
Me: How so?
CC: Well, about two hours ago I found another package. The words, "Watch ME", are written over it in black marker.
Me: Shit. Did you catch something on the surveillance tape?
CC: Yeah. I think I'm going crazy.
Me: What did you see?
CC: One moment there was nothing, then .02 seconds of static. Then it's just there. Nothing could move fast enough to put it there without being seen.
Me: I don't know what to say. Is there something wrong with the camera?
CC: There's nothing wrong with the fucking camera, okay? Something is happening to me and I don't know what to do.
Me: I think you need to watch it.
CC: Fuck that.
Me: Look, whatever is doing this isn't going to stop until it gets what it wants. The more you try to fight it, the more hostile it's going to become. Trust me on this one, watch it now or it's only going to get worse for you.
CC: I'm starting to lose my shit.
Me: That's understandable.
CC: I guess you're right, though. I'll watch it, but I need a day or two first.
Me: Keep me posted?
CC: Sure. Thanks for the advice or whatever it was.
Me: Before you leave, is it ok if I post this?
CC: Do you ever get a thought you don't have to post on the internet?
Me: Not lately, no.
CC: Fine, whatever.
Here's what I think
For the most part, there are two types of people in this world. There
are those who refuse to acknowledge the darkness and others who become
swallowed by it.
The first group will spend their whole lives running away from their
pain, but it always finds them because they never give themselves the
chance to learn from past mistakes.
The second instead focuses only on their loss and sadness. It's
impossible to enjoy the present or look forward to the future when you
spend every waking hour cursing your past.
I don't get along very well with either of these groups. The former
drops me when I need them the most and the latter is too wrapped up in
themselves to be of use to anyone else.
What makes us different is, while we both started out in one of these
groups, we've evolved beyond them. We both see the darkness in each
other and our selves and, while we do acknowledge them, we don't allow
it to consume us. We can see the beauty in the pain, because we
realize it's integral to learning who we are and become better people
as a result.
I think this is also the reason we compliment each other so well.
Whenever either of us starts to slip, the other is able to listen AND
understand.
are those who refuse to acknowledge the darkness and others who become
swallowed by it.
The first group will spend their whole lives running away from their
pain, but it always finds them because they never give themselves the
chance to learn from past mistakes.
The second instead focuses only on their loss and sadness. It's
impossible to enjoy the present or look forward to the future when you
spend every waking hour cursing your past.
I don't get along very well with either of these groups. The former
drops me when I need them the most and the latter is too wrapped up in
themselves to be of use to anyone else.
What makes us different is, while we both started out in one of these
groups, we've evolved beyond them. We both see the darkness in each
other and our selves and, while we do acknowledge them, we don't allow
it to consume us. We can see the beauty in the pain, because we
realize it's integral to learning who we are and become better people
as a result.
I think this is also the reason we compliment each other so well.
Whenever either of us starts to slip, the other is able to listen AND
understand.
Unexpected Hanging Paradox
Memories in the form of still images and text race through my head. An accelerated heartbeat and leaking eyes make it harder to focus. I'm rising and falling; my stomach takes permanent residence in my throat. People call and text but I don't want to talk tonight.
My mom didn't like my tone when we spoke and went into full on panic mode. She blew up my phone with texts demanding to know what was wrong. I love my mom, but there's some things she doesn't need to know about.
See, I have to be perfect. That's not just concerning mom, it's a lot of people. I'm not perfect, though. In fact, I'm pretty fucked up at times. Some people are waiting on me to snap again, while others will be crushed if I do. I have to stay strong and not give the first set an opening as well as avoid letting down the latter. It's exhausting.
I don't like people to see me when I get like this.
Music pulses through my headphones. My MP3 player knows me too well and always picks the right songs for the wrong times. The leaks from my eyes become torrents and soak the filter of my cigarette. I know I think too much and there's one thought in particular I can't seem to shake.
Are my emotions a gift or curse?
My mom didn't like my tone when we spoke and went into full on panic mode. She blew up my phone with texts demanding to know what was wrong. I love my mom, but there's some things she doesn't need to know about.
See, I have to be perfect. That's not just concerning mom, it's a lot of people. I'm not perfect, though. In fact, I'm pretty fucked up at times. Some people are waiting on me to snap again, while others will be crushed if I do. I have to stay strong and not give the first set an opening as well as avoid letting down the latter. It's exhausting.
I don't like people to see me when I get like this.
Music pulses through my headphones. My MP3 player knows me too well and always picks the right songs for the wrong times. The leaks from my eyes become torrents and soak the filter of my cigarette. I know I think too much and there's one thought in particular I can't seem to shake.
Are my emotions a gift or curse?
Notion # 88
I want to somehow end up with you watching animated Batman movies-This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.
Open mic dates
I know this is a long shot, but if you're in the San Jose area you should come out to the following open mics to see some of these performed live.
Cavin and Kings
Monday January 31st 6:30-10
201 Castro St Mountain View, CA 94041
Caffe Trieste
Tuesday February 1st starts at 10 (all night happy hour)
315 S 1st St San Jose, California 95113
Like I said, if you're in the area I'd love to see you. Also, if anyone has any suggestions for pieces I should read, I'd like to hear them.
Cavin and Kings
Monday January 31st 6:30-10
201 Castro St Mountain View, CA 94041
Caffe Trieste
Tuesday February 1st starts at 10 (all night happy hour)
315 S 1st St San Jose, California 95113
Like I said, if you're in the area I'd love to see you. Also, if anyone has any suggestions for pieces I should read, I'd like to hear them.
I smile
Me: I like the new look for my blog; it's dark but uplifting at the same time.
Her: Not unlike its author.
Her: Not unlike its author.
With that, I bid thee Goodnight.
In less than two days I'll be in California. My job is sending me there so I can take a Multi-media class and it's a very big deal. I've never done anything like this before and it makes me nervous.
I've seen enough "road trip" flicks to know that any time you're completely out there on your own Murphy's Law can and will fuck your shit up. But that's the worrier in me and I've barely slept all week. When this happens, the defenses keeping some of my lesser traits at bay are weakened.
My life has been a roller coaster since July and I'm completely spent. I think this will be good for me. Lately my life has become routine. It's a routine that works for me, don't get me wrong, but every once in awhile it's good to shake things up a bit.
Now, at last...
sleep...
I've seen enough "road trip" flicks to know that any time you're completely out there on your own Murphy's Law can and will fuck your shit up. But that's the worrier in me and I've barely slept all week. When this happens, the defenses keeping some of my lesser traits at bay are weakened.
My life has been a roller coaster since July and I'm completely spent. I think this will be good for me. Lately my life has become routine. It's a routine that works for me, don't get me wrong, but every once in awhile it's good to shake things up a bit.
Now, at last...
sleep...
The Lost Songs 3: Something Like Happiness (Epic Suck)
Written: 2002 during Senior Year. DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNNNNN
Inspiration: Hormones and horrible taste in women.
Author's note: This is the second song I'd ever written, way back before I knew what I was doing. With a lot of my high school work, I extract a few lines here and there and put them into better songs. I'm posting this one unedited. This means it's both long as shit AND fucking awful. If you can put this to music in its entirety and make it sound good, I'll send you something.
Something Like Happiness
How do you like that,
knowing that my station in life,
is trying to pay you back?
You like to think that,
the world rests upon your shoulders.
And the load only gets heavier,
as you continue to grow older.
Everyone relies on you,
that's just the way you felt.
Never realized that you need to,
take sometime out for yourself.
All I ever wanted was,
for you to be happy.
I guess that's impossible because,
you have all of this responsibility.
You're wasting away here,
this town is dragging you down.
Your biggest fear,
is that the world would fall apart as soon as you weren't around.
Chorus:
And I'm about ready to,
cut off all my ties to you.
Then you'll go your way,
and I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself every day,
by sayin that I'm fine.
End Chorus:
I don't wanna be stuck,
bein your third or fourth choice.
I don't wanna live my life,
without having a voice.
So I'm gonna use this time,
to tel you all my feelings because,
I've heard yours and now you're gonna hear mine.
Getting over you,
was the hardest thing,
I've ever had to do.
And I keep putting myself in,
the position to,
be hurt all over again.
Is it really worth it to,
keep trying to be your friend?
Or should I just count my losses,
and allowed my wounds to mend?
Where does this leave us?
Two broken homes, two broken hearts,
and a lot of broken trust.
So, what do I do,
when all your lies,
turn out to be true?
Chorus 1x:
You were everything,
I ever wanted and more.
But once again you're gone,
and I'm more alone than before.
You told me every night,
you cry yourself to sleep.
But with me you were all right,
there was no reason to weep.
You turned out to be,
everything that you hated.
Regardless of what you meant to me.
You could never learn to,
just appreciate it.
Why do I waste my breath,
on all the things I say?
When you made it abundantly clear,
my opinion doesn't matter anyway.
Chorus 1x:
So we'll go to,
one bad relationship to another.
The only reason I think they fail,
is because we're not with each other.
But maybe there's something I missed,
because you make me feel.
Something like happiness.
And I'm about ready to,
cut off all my ties to you.
Then you'll go your way.
And I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself everyday,
by sayin that I'm fine.
End:
What a whiny bitch.
Oh, you're still here. Seriously, you read it all? Wow...good for you.
Inspiration: Hormones and horrible taste in women.
Author's note: This is the second song I'd ever written, way back before I knew what I was doing. With a lot of my high school work, I extract a few lines here and there and put them into better songs. I'm posting this one unedited. This means it's both long as shit AND fucking awful. If you can put this to music in its entirety and make it sound good, I'll send you something.
Something Like Happiness
How do you like that,
knowing that my station in life,
is trying to pay you back?
You like to think that,
the world rests upon your shoulders.
And the load only gets heavier,
as you continue to grow older.
Everyone relies on you,
that's just the way you felt.
Never realized that you need to,
take sometime out for yourself.
All I ever wanted was,
for you to be happy.
I guess that's impossible because,
you have all of this responsibility.
You're wasting away here,
this town is dragging you down.
Your biggest fear,
is that the world would fall apart as soon as you weren't around.
Chorus:
And I'm about ready to,
cut off all my ties to you.
Then you'll go your way,
and I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself every day,
by sayin that I'm fine.
End Chorus:
I don't wanna be stuck,
bein your third or fourth choice.
I don't wanna live my life,
without having a voice.
So I'm gonna use this time,
to tel you all my feelings because,
I've heard yours and now you're gonna hear mine.
Getting over you,
was the hardest thing,
I've ever had to do.
And I keep putting myself in,
the position to,
be hurt all over again.
Is it really worth it to,
keep trying to be your friend?
Or should I just count my losses,
and allowed my wounds to mend?
Where does this leave us?
Two broken homes, two broken hearts,
and a lot of broken trust.
So, what do I do,
when all your lies,
turn out to be true?
Chorus 1x:
You were everything,
I ever wanted and more.
But once again you're gone,
and I'm more alone than before.
You told me every night,
you cry yourself to sleep.
But with me you were all right,
there was no reason to weep.
You turned out to be,
everything that you hated.
Regardless of what you meant to me.
You could never learn to,
just appreciate it.
Why do I waste my breath,
on all the things I say?
When you made it abundantly clear,
my opinion doesn't matter anyway.
Chorus 1x:
So we'll go to,
one bad relationship to another.
The only reason I think they fail,
is because we're not with each other.
But maybe there's something I missed,
because you make me feel.
Something like happiness.
And I'm about ready to,
cut off all my ties to you.
Then you'll go your way.
And I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself everyday,
by sayin that I'm fine.
End:
What a whiny bitch.
Oh, you're still here. Seriously, you read it all? Wow...good for you.
Notion #11
The other night I was playing video games and I missed all of the important parts, because I was talking to you. It didn't bother me in the slightest.
Hypothetical
Her: Look, we both know how we feel about each other, but you went too far.
Me: I know, I wasn't thinking. What I did was an act of spontaneity that I wholeheartedly admit was irresponsible.
Her: Irresponsible? That's putting it pretty fucking mildly. He threw me out. I'm homeless now, Davlin. Do you understand what I'm saying?
Me: I do. You can make it through this. I can help you.
Her: I've just been dumped and put out on my ass, because of you. The last thing I want in the world right now is to be shacked up with you.
Me: Listen, I'll help you find and get a place. It's the least I can do. If you never want to see me again after that, I completely understand.
*Awkward silence*
Me: I thought this was what you wanted.
Her: No. This is what you wanted. I wanted to leave when I was ready, on my own terms. You told me you were willing to wait. What happened to that?
Me: I was willing. I just wasn't able.
Her: I thought you were different.
Me: I am.
Her: Yeah, you're worse. You've fucked me over pretty bad on this one. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get passed it. I think it's best if we don't talk anymore.
Me: You can't mean...
Her: Goodbye, Davlin
Me: WAIT!
*click*
Me: FUCK!
Me: I know, I wasn't thinking. What I did was an act of spontaneity that I wholeheartedly admit was irresponsible.
Her: Irresponsible? That's putting it pretty fucking mildly. He threw me out. I'm homeless now, Davlin. Do you understand what I'm saying?
Me: I do. You can make it through this. I can help you.
Her: I've just been dumped and put out on my ass, because of you. The last thing I want in the world right now is to be shacked up with you.
Me: Listen, I'll help you find and get a place. It's the least I can do. If you never want to see me again after that, I completely understand.
*Awkward silence*
Me: I thought this was what you wanted.
Her: No. This is what you wanted. I wanted to leave when I was ready, on my own terms. You told me you were willing to wait. What happened to that?
Me: I was willing. I just wasn't able.
Her: I thought you were different.
Me: I am.
Her: Yeah, you're worse. You've fucked me over pretty bad on this one. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get passed it. I think it's best if we don't talk anymore.
Me: You can't mean...
Her: Goodbye, Davlin
Me: WAIT!
*click*
Me: FUCK!
Davlin's playlist: The story of my anomaly
I've spent over four hours on this playlist and I think it is my best one yet. So, pop them into your preferred music player, or at least read the lyrics.-The Mgmt.
1. Use Somebody-Kings of Leon
2. Could Well Be In-The Streets
3. Everything You Want-Vertical Horizon
4. Terrified Heart-Poe
5. Scarred-Kevin Rudolf
6. Survive-Rise Against
7. She's Got A Boyfriend Now-Bowling For Soup
8. I Miss You-Blink-182
9. Day Late Friend-Anberlin
10. Fine Again-Seether
11. Follow and Feel-Saosin
12. Who I Am Hates Who I've Been-Relient K
13. They All Fall Down-SR-71
14. Late Night Conversations-The Forecast
15. A Praise Chorus-Jimmy Eat World
16. So Impossible-Dashboard Confessional
17. In Never Snows In Florida-New Found Glory
18. Flaws-The Spill Canvas
19. Wondering-Good Charlotte
20. Annabella's Song-Everclear
1. Use Somebody-Kings of Leon
2. Could Well Be In-The Streets
3. Everything You Want-Vertical Horizon
4. Terrified Heart-Poe
5. Scarred-Kevin Rudolf
6. Survive-Rise Against
7. She's Got A Boyfriend Now-Bowling For Soup
8. I Miss You-Blink-182
9. Day Late Friend-Anberlin
10. Fine Again-Seether
11. Follow and Feel-Saosin
12. Who I Am Hates Who I've Been-Relient K
13. They All Fall Down-SR-71
14. Late Night Conversations-The Forecast
15. A Praise Chorus-Jimmy Eat World
16. So Impossible-Dashboard Confessional
17. In Never Snows In Florida-New Found Glory
18. Flaws-The Spill Canvas
19. Wondering-Good Charlotte
20. Annabella's Song-Everclear
I want all of you to get involved.
If you follow anything I do, you know how much I love the sound of my own voice. It's absolutely true and I think everyone should love theirs. Which brings me to the reason for this post.
I've been getting quite a surge in activity on my blog and now I want to hear from you. I've got all the capabilities to start up a podcast, but I want to do something unique. This is where you come in.
I'm looking for any kind of participation you want to bring to the table. You can send me something of yours to read on the air and I'll plug your blog as well. Is there anything you would like to ask me? Come on, if you've been reading this shit for an extended amount of time, you've got to have some questions. Now's your chance to get as honest of an answer as I can give. Or hell, call in and we'll chat. I just want to hear your voice any way you want to use it.
Email me at disenchantedyouths@gmail.com and we'll talk.
I've been getting quite a surge in activity on my blog and now I want to hear from you. I've got all the capabilities to start up a podcast, but I want to do something unique. This is where you come in.
I'm looking for any kind of participation you want to bring to the table. You can send me something of yours to read on the air and I'll plug your blog as well. Is there anything you would like to ask me? Come on, if you've been reading this shit for an extended amount of time, you've got to have some questions. Now's your chance to get as honest of an answer as I can give. Or hell, call in and we'll chat. I just want to hear your voice any way you want to use it.
Email me at disenchantedyouths@gmail.com and we'll talk.
The Lost Songs 2: Taste Him
Written: 2005 while living in SC
Inspiration: I was dating a girl who talked incessantly about her ex-boyfriend. I birthed this song when I'd finally had enough
Taste Him
You looked so beautiful,
in your Galaga t-shirt.
Talks about our pasts,
and how he treated you like dirt.
He’s always on the,
tip of your tongue.
It gets to the point that,
I can taste him while I’m kissing you.
Chorus:
Am I the one you think about,
when we do the dirty things we do?
When it’s late at night,
is it me you want on top of you?
Or am I just a pawn,
in this twisted little game?
Do you bite down on your lip,
just to keep from screaming out his name?
End Chorus:
The burnt out conversations,
don’t add up to much.
I just wish it was as easy,
to dismiss your touch.
There’s something,
terribly wrong with me.
It eats away,
bittersweet jealousy.
Chorus: 1x
My head is sick,
my heart is twisted now.
My soul much more fragile,
than you could ever know.
I don’t care what happens when,
you’re alone with him behind closed doors.
If that’s what you want,
then you’ve nothing to be sorry for.
But as for me,
I’ll just smoke some weed.
And then hopefully rub one out,
before I go to sleep.
Chorus 1x
End Song
Inspiration: I was dating a girl who talked incessantly about her ex-boyfriend. I birthed this song when I'd finally had enough
Taste Him
You looked so beautiful,
in your Galaga t-shirt.
Talks about our pasts,
and how he treated you like dirt.
He’s always on the,
tip of your tongue.
It gets to the point that,
I can taste him while I’m kissing you.
Chorus:
Am I the one you think about,
when we do the dirty things we do?
When it’s late at night,
is it me you want on top of you?
Or am I just a pawn,
in this twisted little game?
Do you bite down on your lip,
just to keep from screaming out his name?
End Chorus:
The burnt out conversations,
don’t add up to much.
I just wish it was as easy,
to dismiss your touch.
There’s something,
terribly wrong with me.
It eats away,
bittersweet jealousy.
Chorus: 1x
My head is sick,
my heart is twisted now.
My soul much more fragile,
than you could ever know.
I don’t care what happens when,
you’re alone with him behind closed doors.
If that’s what you want,
then you’ve nothing to be sorry for.
But as for me,
I’ll just smoke some weed.
And then hopefully rub one out,
before I go to sleep.
Chorus 1x
End Song
Another Stewart family memory
This discussion took place when my cousin, Cameron, was told he couldn't have a Coke.
Cameron: How come Davlin gets to have one, then?
Me: (As I take a swig) Because I'm a lost cause, there's still hope for you.
The End.
Cameron: How come Davlin gets to have one, then?
Me: (As I take a swig) Because I'm a lost cause, there's still hope for you.
The End.
A gaming memory: Fable 2
While playing Fable Two I experienced one of those rare moments you can only get in video games. Let me paint the scene for you.
I'm walking down a trail with my trusty dog, "Fart-Biscuit". He's been by my side since I was a young boy, ever since my sister's death. As we round a corner we come up to a man and woman in tattered clothes. Seeing as how I'm a teenager full of raging hormones, I throw out a pickup line and she swoons because she's only human. This angers the man she's with, who comes over to stand between us.
While scrolling through my action wheel, I discover I can interact with my dog. Since he's been such a loyal friend, I decide to praise him. My dog is at my left, but my avatar behaves as if he's right in front of me. Instead of praising my dog, I bend forward and speak baby talk directly into the man's crotch. Playing with the camera makes it dirtier.
Once I finish, a heart icon appears over his head and tells me I've increased his romantic interest. "That was sensational!" he tells me before walking off.
I laughed for a good 20 minutes.
I'm walking down a trail with my trusty dog, "Fart-Biscuit". He's been by my side since I was a young boy, ever since my sister's death. As we round a corner we come up to a man and woman in tattered clothes. Seeing as how I'm a teenager full of raging hormones, I throw out a pickup line and she swoons because she's only human. This angers the man she's with, who comes over to stand between us.
While scrolling through my action wheel, I discover I can interact with my dog. Since he's been such a loyal friend, I decide to praise him. My dog is at my left, but my avatar behaves as if he's right in front of me. Instead of praising my dog, I bend forward and speak baby talk directly into the man's crotch. Playing with the camera makes it dirtier.
Once I finish, a heart icon appears over his head and tells me I've increased his romantic interest. "That was sensational!" he tells me before walking off.
I laughed for a good 20 minutes.
With Time
I’m tossing and turning,
On the couch losing sleep over you again.
My fingers on the keyboard,
Wondering which confessions I should abstain.
Despite the distance and the facts,
Nothing in my life has felt this right.
I’d trade everything I have,
To fall asleep with you tonight.
As my vision starts to fade,
All I see is the beauty of your face.
Though I’ve only seen it in pictures,
They make me long for an embrace.
And now as I dream,
I see everything we could be.
Neither of us are perfect,
In fact we’re both a little bit crazy.
But this is the exact,
Reason I think the two of us would work.
I feel stronger because of you,
And I adore your every single little quirk.
When I finally awake,
You’re the one that’s on my mind.
And I truly hope,
The rest will fall into place with time.
Bonus Lines!
I couldn't ask for,
anything more than this.
We never wanted,
To seek His forgiveness.
On the couch losing sleep over you again.
My fingers on the keyboard,
Wondering which confessions I should abstain.
Despite the distance and the facts,
Nothing in my life has felt this right.
I’d trade everything I have,
To fall asleep with you tonight.
As my vision starts to fade,
All I see is the beauty of your face.
Though I’ve only seen it in pictures,
They make me long for an embrace.
And now as I dream,
I see everything we could be.
Neither of us are perfect,
In fact we’re both a little bit crazy.
But this is the exact,
Reason I think the two of us would work.
I feel stronger because of you,
And I adore your every single little quirk.
When I finally awake,
You’re the one that’s on my mind.
And I truly hope,
The rest will fall into place with time.
Bonus Lines!
I couldn't ask for,
anything more than this.
We never wanted,
To seek His forgiveness.
Davlin's playlist: The Essential Brand New
A collection of my favorite Brand New tunes, arranged to tell a story.
1. I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light-Deja-Entendu
2. Brother-Fight Off Your Demons
3. Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades-Deja-Entendu
4. Seventy Times 7-Your Favorite Weapon
5. Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't-Deja Entendu
6. Jesus-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
7. Guernica-Deja Entendu
8. Good Man-Fight Off Your Demons
9. The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows-Deja Entendu
10. The Edge Takes Over For Vin-Fight Off Your Demon
11. Limosine (MS Rebridge)-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
12. Bought A Bride-Daisy
13. Sowing Season-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
14. At The Bottom-Daisy
15. Failure By Design-Your Favorite Weapon
16. Degausser-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
17. Good To Know If I Ever Needed Attention All I Have To Do Is Die-Deja Entendu
18. You Won't Know-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
19. Daisy-Daisy
20. Missing You To Death-Fight Off Your Demons
1. I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light-Deja-Entendu
2. Brother-Fight Off Your Demons
3. Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades-Deja-Entendu
4. Seventy Times 7-Your Favorite Weapon
5. Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't-Deja Entendu
6. Jesus-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
7. Guernica-Deja Entendu
8. Good Man-Fight Off Your Demons
9. The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows-Deja Entendu
10. The Edge Takes Over For Vin-Fight Off Your Demon
11. Limosine (MS Rebridge)-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
12. Bought A Bride-Daisy
13. Sowing Season-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
14. At The Bottom-Daisy
15. Failure By Design-Your Favorite Weapon
16. Degausser-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
17. Good To Know If I Ever Needed Attention All I Have To Do Is Die-Deja Entendu
18. You Won't Know-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
19. Daisy-Daisy
20. Missing You To Death-Fight Off Your Demons
While stumbling...
I came across "The AOLer Translator".
Description taken from site:
This translator will take what you write in it and turn it into the manner a 12-year-old AOLer would write it. Type in what you want translated and then click the button.
I thought it sounded like fun. Here's the message I wanted to see translated:
"These past two years have shown me; I can't live without you. You are the fire which drives me. Whenever I feel lost, all I have to do is look into your eyes. I love you so much, baby. Please, take me back."
Here's what "The AOLer Translator" regurgitated back at me.
"THES3 PAST TWO YEARS HAEV SHOWN MA I CANT LIEV WITHOUT U!!11!! WTF U R DA FIER WHICH DRIEVS M3!1!!111!! OMG LOL WHENEV3R I FEL LOST AL I HAEV 2 DO SI LOK IN2 UR EY3S!!!!!!!1 WTF LOL I LUV U SO MUCH BABY!!1!11!1 OMG PLZ TAEK MA BAK!1!1!11!"
Well, there ya go. Thanks internet.
Description taken from site:
This translator will take what you write in it and turn it into the manner a 12-year-old AOLer would write it. Type in what you want translated and then click the button.
I thought it sounded like fun. Here's the message I wanted to see translated:
"These past two years have shown me; I can't live without you. You are the fire which drives me. Whenever I feel lost, all I have to do is look into your eyes. I love you so much, baby. Please, take me back."
Here's what "The AOLer Translator" regurgitated back at me.
"THES3 PAST TWO YEARS HAEV SHOWN MA I CANT LIEV WITHOUT U!!11!! WTF U R DA FIER WHICH DRIEVS M3!1!!111!! OMG LOL WHENEV3R I FEL LOST AL I HAEV 2 DO SI LOK IN2 UR EY3S!!!!!!!1 WTF LOL I LUV U SO MUCH BABY!!1!11!1 OMG PLZ TAEK MA BAK!1!1!11!"
Well, there ya go. Thanks internet.
Scattered Thoughts: On Tour (Kind of)
I'm going to have to do a bit of traveling over the next several weeks for work. Here's what my schedule is looking like.
Jan 30th-Feb 2: San Jose, CA
Feb 5-7: Houston, TX
Feb 7-11: Lafayette, LA
Now, during this time I'm trying to find as many open mics as I can and I'll let you guys know when the details are solid. If anyone lives close to these areas, message me and maybe we can meet up.
Jan 30th-Feb 2: San Jose, CA
Feb 5-7: Houston, TX
Feb 7-11: Lafayette, LA
Now, during this time I'm trying to find as many open mics as I can and I'll let you guys know when the details are solid. If anyone lives close to these areas, message me and maybe we can meet up.
Davlin's playlist: The Perfect Drive
1. Summerland-Everclear
2. Coffee And Cigarettes-Jimmy Eat World
3. Be My Escape-Relient K
4. Pure Morning-Placebo
5. No 5-Hollywood Undead
6. Hip Hop Misfits-The Dirty Heads
7. This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race-Fallout Boy
8. Set By Example-Twiztid
9. Faster-Violent J
10. Devil On My Shoulder-Billy Talent
11. Los Angeles-Sugarcult
12. Heartless-Kanye West
13. Handlebars-Flobots
14. X Amount Of Words-Blue October
15. Daisy-Brand New
16. Tiny Vessels-Deathcab for Cutie
17. Audience Of One-Rise Against
18. Back Against The Wall-Cage The Elephant
19. What I Got-Sublime
20. The Night Will Go As Follows-The Spill Canvas
2. Coffee And Cigarettes-Jimmy Eat World
3. Be My Escape-Relient K
4. Pure Morning-Placebo
5. No 5-Hollywood Undead
6. Hip Hop Misfits-The Dirty Heads
7. This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race-Fallout Boy
8. Set By Example-Twiztid
9. Faster-Violent J
10. Devil On My Shoulder-Billy Talent
11. Los Angeles-Sugarcult
12. Heartless-Kanye West
13. Handlebars-Flobots
14. X Amount Of Words-Blue October
15. Daisy-Brand New
16. Tiny Vessels-Deathcab for Cutie
17. Audience Of One-Rise Against
18. Back Against The Wall-Cage The Elephant
19. What I Got-Sublime
20. The Night Will Go As Follows-The Spill Canvas
The moment I knew I was meant to be a writer. 200th Blog!
Things were kind of rough growing up. One of the reasons for this is I had to move so many times during the first 6 years of my academic career. In kindergarten alone, I went to two different schools. Looking back, I understand why things happened the way they did. Mom was a single parent raising two boys and struggling to pay rent, so we had to adapt a nomadic lifestyle.
I couldn't make any friends growing up, because I was never given the chance to learn how. This meant I spent a lot of my formative years in total isolation with only my action figures for companions. I know it sounds like a pretty pathetic childhood, but it yielded some positive results.
First, it was during these years when I fell in love with the written word. I learned to read from my brother's Hooked On Phonics when he quit in frustration and never stopped. Nothing in my life has ever compared to the first time I entered the school library in Kindergarten. From that point on, it became my sanctuary no matter what school I attended. I would gorge myself on the books within, spending hours developing my imagination. My first favorite book series was "Hank the Cowdog" but I quickly dove into material far beyond my age level.
Second, I had to put all of my efforts into my schoolwork in order to keep up with the constantly changing learning environments. Since I didn't have the distractions of friends or a social life, I excelled in my studies. This was the only thing I took pride in, besides my action figures.
Then in September of fifth grade, life with my mom got pretty rough and I moved in with my dad. The first couple of weeks in class at my new school I was a ghost. I'd learned to blend in, rarely making an impression on anyone. (I still remember every one I made, too) I've never been athletic and I failed to impress the other kids in the school yard with my high school reading level.
That all changed in November of the same year.
The teacher, who hadn't learned my name yet, told us to write a story about a turkey for Thanksgiving. She also gave us a paper one to decorate as well. I've always loved comic books and they served as my inspiration. I told the story of Tom Turkey, who dressed up in a Batman Halloween costume and busted out of his farm right before Thanksgiving. I even worked in the theme song from the '60s series. I decorated my turkey in full costume, holding a batarang. It was glorious.
I turned it in and without giving it a single thought. I simply wrote a story I wanted to read. A classmate of mine was a writer for the school newspaper and read it by recommendation of our teacher. To my elation, the next issue featured my story. For that one day, and the first time of my life, everyone knew I existed. After that my celebrity status faded when this couple held hands for the first time, but I never forgot the feeling.
The next time I picked up a pen and took it seriously was in my senior year. This was the second hardest year of my life, with so many twists and mindfucks it took several more years to recover. I was really big into Emo Punk at the time and they inspired me to start writing songs. Some were over four pages long and are painful to revisit, but I filled a spiral with them. After six months of practice I wrote "A Time of Innocence", which mourned the loss of the person I could never be again. It's also one of my all time favorite pieces I have written.
I started showing it to my peers and they loved it, often wanting to see more. That's when I knew I was meant to be a writer. 15 years later, I'm still connecting to people by writing things I would like to read. I honestly can't think of anything better.
P.S. I recently found out my dad still has the school newspaper featuring the adventure of BatTurkey. If anyone's interested, let me know and I'll put it up.
I couldn't make any friends growing up, because I was never given the chance to learn how. This meant I spent a lot of my formative years in total isolation with only my action figures for companions. I know it sounds like a pretty pathetic childhood, but it yielded some positive results.
First, it was during these years when I fell in love with the written word. I learned to read from my brother's Hooked On Phonics when he quit in frustration and never stopped. Nothing in my life has ever compared to the first time I entered the school library in Kindergarten. From that point on, it became my sanctuary no matter what school I attended. I would gorge myself on the books within, spending hours developing my imagination. My first favorite book series was "Hank the Cowdog" but I quickly dove into material far beyond my age level.
Second, I had to put all of my efforts into my schoolwork in order to keep up with the constantly changing learning environments. Since I didn't have the distractions of friends or a social life, I excelled in my studies. This was the only thing I took pride in, besides my action figures.
Then in September of fifth grade, life with my mom got pretty rough and I moved in with my dad. The first couple of weeks in class at my new school I was a ghost. I'd learned to blend in, rarely making an impression on anyone. (I still remember every one I made, too) I've never been athletic and I failed to impress the other kids in the school yard with my high school reading level.
That all changed in November of the same year.
The teacher, who hadn't learned my name yet, told us to write a story about a turkey for Thanksgiving. She also gave us a paper one to decorate as well. I've always loved comic books and they served as my inspiration. I told the story of Tom Turkey, who dressed up in a Batman Halloween costume and busted out of his farm right before Thanksgiving. I even worked in the theme song from the '60s series. I decorated my turkey in full costume, holding a batarang. It was glorious.
I turned it in and without giving it a single thought. I simply wrote a story I wanted to read. A classmate of mine was a writer for the school newspaper and read it by recommendation of our teacher. To my elation, the next issue featured my story. For that one day, and the first time of my life, everyone knew I existed. After that my celebrity status faded when this couple held hands for the first time, but I never forgot the feeling.
The next time I picked up a pen and took it seriously was in my senior year. This was the second hardest year of my life, with so many twists and mindfucks it took several more years to recover. I was really big into Emo Punk at the time and they inspired me to start writing songs. Some were over four pages long and are painful to revisit, but I filled a spiral with them. After six months of practice I wrote "A Time of Innocence", which mourned the loss of the person I could never be again. It's also one of my all time favorite pieces I have written.
I started showing it to my peers and they loved it, often wanting to see more. That's when I knew I was meant to be a writer. 15 years later, I'm still connecting to people by writing things I would like to read. I honestly can't think of anything better.
P.S. I recently found out my dad still has the school newspaper featuring the adventure of BatTurkey. If anyone's interested, let me know and I'll put it up.
Feel. Release. Heal.
I'll be the first to admit my website is not exactly user friendly. You can't access it from your iphone, everything seems random, it's dark and after awhile it kind of messes with your head. None of this is by accident. I've spent over 200 hours meticulously crafting each page. Every single pixel tells a story.
See, I've been writing for over 8 years now and it's the only thing I've ever been truly passionate about. It's what keeps my mind racing at four in the morning, making sleep impossible. I wanted to share my work with the world, but nothing I was trying seemed to work.
That's when I remembered,
I bought a subscription to Wix over a year ago, created a mock up and then quit. The image on the home page, however, haunted me. In its center was a broken TV screen playing static. It was time to give it a fair shot.
Look over to your right at the "archives" menu and find Sept and Oct of last year. The reason the number of posts were so low then was because I was in a frenzy. The whole process was agonizing, cleansing, and when it was finished I had never felt more accomplished.
Most websites, despite their entertainment or production levels, are pretty much the same. I wanted to do something different. I wanted something that not only stood out enough to catch people's interest for at least five minutes, but would also have the substance to keep them coming back.
First, I made it dark to set the mood. The TV plays a symbolic role, but it's also there for functionality. We're more willing to stare at a TV than a book nowadays, this helps people focus on what I want them to see. The stuff in the margins is to catch your eye, should it happen to wander.
Second, I have no plans for it to be iphone compatible, because that's why I have this here blog. With the site, I don't want you to be distracted. You're supposed to take your time and wear headphones. I want you to allow yourself to be totally immersed in what you are reading/hearing/watching. Trust me, it makes it so much better.
Third, The order of the menu buttons is crucial. In order to get the full effect, you should go through them from top to bottom. Here's a brief description of each, cos I'm feeling wordy.
"Intro"-I had an original intro video, but it was a little long. (found on "F.R.H. TV" page) Now, there's an artistic shot of the business card I've been leaving places. The words revolving it tell many stories.
"Home"-This is where you can go to find out what's been recently added to the 'This just in' section on the right hand side. Also a message from me, Davlin, to you, you.
"Script"-Ok, this page is massive and may take several minutes to load up. This is because it contains an entire book, which is essentially the "best of" from my eight years of writing. The website is its words brought to life. The more you read of it, the more you'll notice its nuances hidden in everything you see. For optimal effect; listen along with, or read the read lyrics to every song as it's mentioned. They are just as crucial to my story as the pieces I have written. Oh, the pictures contain secrets and messages, too.
"Ch. 3 F. R. H. TV"-This page features videos of my performances, interviews, user submissions and some nonsense.
"Audile"-This is where I house MP3s of my spoken word. Headphones are essential, because, since I'm still new at this, the volume isn't as high as it should be. There's also a few pieces here that are not found in "Script".
"Find Your Voice"-This is the comments page. Speaking your mind is always encouraged.
"Sister Stations"-Links to my blog, youtube channel, facebook page and, for some reason, myspace.
Fourth, I wanted to let people who didn't want to go through all of that bullshit just because they found a business card a place where they could still get on for a few minutes, enjoy and go about their day.
The last thing I wanted is the most important, though. I know what it's like to feel alone, depressed and like things will never get better. I don't think anyone should have to go through that, but if they do it shouldn't be by themselves.
I created the site to show others how cathartic an outlet writing can be. I would love to do another page, similar to "Script", based on user submissions.
I guess the whole point of this is I want to help people, but the only thing I have to offer is words...
bled out onto a page.
See, I've been writing for over 8 years now and it's the only thing I've ever been truly passionate about. It's what keeps my mind racing at four in the morning, making sleep impossible. I wanted to share my work with the world, but nothing I was trying seemed to work.
That's when I remembered,
I bought a subscription to Wix over a year ago, created a mock up and then quit. The image on the home page, however, haunted me. In its center was a broken TV screen playing static. It was time to give it a fair shot.
Look over to your right at the "archives" menu and find Sept and Oct of last year. The reason the number of posts were so low then was because I was in a frenzy. The whole process was agonizing, cleansing, and when it was finished I had never felt more accomplished.
Most websites, despite their entertainment or production levels, are pretty much the same. I wanted to do something different. I wanted something that not only stood out enough to catch people's interest for at least five minutes, but would also have the substance to keep them coming back.
First, I made it dark to set the mood. The TV plays a symbolic role, but it's also there for functionality. We're more willing to stare at a TV than a book nowadays, this helps people focus on what I want them to see. The stuff in the margins is to catch your eye, should it happen to wander.
Second, I have no plans for it to be iphone compatible, because that's why I have this here blog. With the site, I don't want you to be distracted. You're supposed to take your time and wear headphones. I want you to allow yourself to be totally immersed in what you are reading/hearing/watching. Trust me, it makes it so much better.
Third, The order of the menu buttons is crucial. In order to get the full effect, you should go through them from top to bottom. Here's a brief description of each, cos I'm feeling wordy.
"Intro"-I had an original intro video, but it was a little long. (found on "F.R.H. TV" page) Now, there's an artistic shot of the business card I've been leaving places. The words revolving it tell many stories.
"Home"-This is where you can go to find out what's been recently added to the 'This just in' section on the right hand side. Also a message from me, Davlin, to you, you.
"Script"-Ok, this page is massive and may take several minutes to load up. This is because it contains an entire book, which is essentially the "best of" from my eight years of writing. The website is its words brought to life. The more you read of it, the more you'll notice its nuances hidden in everything you see. For optimal effect; listen along with, or read the read lyrics to every song as it's mentioned. They are just as crucial to my story as the pieces I have written. Oh, the pictures contain secrets and messages, too.
"Ch. 3 F. R. H. TV"-This page features videos of my performances, interviews, user submissions and some nonsense.
"Audile"-This is where I house MP3s of my spoken word. Headphones are essential, because, since I'm still new at this, the volume isn't as high as it should be. There's also a few pieces here that are not found in "Script".
"Find Your Voice"-This is the comments page. Speaking your mind is always encouraged.
"Sister Stations"-Links to my blog, youtube channel, facebook page and, for some reason, myspace.
Fourth, I wanted to let people who didn't want to go through all of that bullshit just because they found a business card a place where they could still get on for a few minutes, enjoy and go about their day.
The last thing I wanted is the most important, though. I know what it's like to feel alone, depressed and like things will never get better. I don't think anyone should have to go through that, but if they do it shouldn't be by themselves.
I created the site to show others how cathartic an outlet writing can be. I would love to do another page, similar to "Script", based on user submissions.
I guess the whole point of this is I want to help people, but the only thing I have to offer is words...
bled out onto a page.
Life on stage: Enough Foreplay
I started performing my spoken word during open mics at Mochalux, a coffee shop an hour away from where I lived. I only went to one of them alone and it was one of my favorite performances there.
After a couple of months of it I was sick of the whole scene. But I hated my room mate more, so I went every weekend to get out of the apartment. On the way there I questioned what I was still getting out of going. The only people who were listening to me were my friends and that defeated the purpose of trying to expand my audience.
There was, however, the rare occasion when I locked eyes with a stranger as I'm tearing out their heart and I'd see the recognition. It might only be a moment, but in it we are feeling the same thing because of words I had written. It's the only time I feel like I make an actual connection with another human being. I don't want to talk to them after I'm offstage, though. I'm happy with that one moment, because it alone is more than any of us could ask for.
Back on track.
So, like I said, I went to this gig by myself. This was a very big deal, because I'd never performed without the crutch of a familiar face. Halfway there, I chickened out. I decided I wasn't going to perform, because it'd be good for me to see it from the audience's perspective. Yeah, that works.
When I got there, I grabbed a few pages from my passenger seat without looking at them before heading up to the door.
I entered the coffee shop and said hi to Paul, the guy who runs the open mic.
"Hey, Paul."
"Davlin, how's it goin? You wanna sign up?"
"Nah, I just came here to watch tonight."
"Oh, um...ok."
And that was that.
I ordered my White Chocolate Mocha, made small pleasantries with some of the other regulars and took a seat at a table by myself. The only other people in the place were a couple of snooty looking older women, and a mother with her two daughters. A few the regulars performed, two of which were favorites. What I liked about that night, was no one changed their acts because of the other people in the venue. They cursed and talked about dirty things with children ten feet in front of them. The snooty bitches scoffed and said that the performers should be ashamed of themselves. When their sets were over I applauded them with great fervor. It reminded me why I love open mics.
Snooty bitch #1 went up and sang a christian/opera diddy. When it was finally over, I realized why I hated open mics. I was also shocked that they stayed to see the rest of the show.
Then one of the little girls was called up. She brought her boombox and pressed play. A catchy pop song that everyone despises, but I can't remember the name of, came on and this little girl sang along with it. She danced a routine you know she was rehearsing in the mirror right before she came. When it was over, she hit stop, picked up her boombox and skipped off the stage. I fucking hated this little girl. Why? Hold up, it's coming.
"And now, Davlin. Hey, Davlin? Are you gonna do something for us?" Paul called from the stage.
I looked at the pages I had taken from my passenger seat. The only thing I had to follow the cutest goddamned thing any of us had ever seen was "Let's Get Political". (Posted here on 12/08 Read it before proceeding to get the full effect of the story)
"Alright, fuck it!" I shouted from the back of the shop as I stood up to head to the stage. By the time I got there the mother had already dragged her daughters out the door.
I stood on the stage and scanned the crowd. When I speak in front of an audience, I look every person there in the eyes at least once. This makes them feel that at some point I'm talking to them.
"I wasn't planning on performing tonight, but since I'm up here I'm going to have a little bit of fun. I wrote this piece last year on Election Day and I think it still holds up. Alright, enough foreplay. Let's get political."
The second I finished the title I zeroed in on snooty bitch #1 who made me listen to her shitty song. This particular piece is written from the perspective of the apathetic youth of today. It's bitter, angry and everything else that keeps Bill O'Reilly up at night. I spat all that anger out into this woman's face. I put so much feeling in the piece's one F bomb, she recoiled from its impact. Her eyes widened with fear, because she knew the anti-Christ was here and he was me. (not really, though. I'm just as good an actor as she is conservative)The only sound in the establishment, other than my voice, was Paul, somewhere to my left, laughing his ass off. Everyone else stared at me, aghast
When I was finished, I hopped offstage and left.
That night reminded me why I love open mics. You can say whatever you want and people have to listen, because you have a microphone.
After a couple of months of it I was sick of the whole scene. But I hated my room mate more, so I went every weekend to get out of the apartment. On the way there I questioned what I was still getting out of going. The only people who were listening to me were my friends and that defeated the purpose of trying to expand my audience.
There was, however, the rare occasion when I locked eyes with a stranger as I'm tearing out their heart and I'd see the recognition. It might only be a moment, but in it we are feeling the same thing because of words I had written. It's the only time I feel like I make an actual connection with another human being. I don't want to talk to them after I'm offstage, though. I'm happy with that one moment, because it alone is more than any of us could ask for.
Back on track.
So, like I said, I went to this gig by myself. This was a very big deal, because I'd never performed without the crutch of a familiar face. Halfway there, I chickened out. I decided I wasn't going to perform, because it'd be good for me to see it from the audience's perspective. Yeah, that works.
When I got there, I grabbed a few pages from my passenger seat without looking at them before heading up to the door.
I entered the coffee shop and said hi to Paul, the guy who runs the open mic.
"Hey, Paul."
"Davlin, how's it goin? You wanna sign up?"
"Nah, I just came here to watch tonight."
"Oh, um...ok."
And that was that.
I ordered my White Chocolate Mocha, made small pleasantries with some of the other regulars and took a seat at a table by myself. The only other people in the place were a couple of snooty looking older women, and a mother with her two daughters. A few the regulars performed, two of which were favorites. What I liked about that night, was no one changed their acts because of the other people in the venue. They cursed and talked about dirty things with children ten feet in front of them. The snooty bitches scoffed and said that the performers should be ashamed of themselves. When their sets were over I applauded them with great fervor. It reminded me why I love open mics.
Snooty bitch #1 went up and sang a christian/opera diddy. When it was finally over, I realized why I hated open mics. I was also shocked that they stayed to see the rest of the show.
Then one of the little girls was called up. She brought her boombox and pressed play. A catchy pop song that everyone despises, but I can't remember the name of, came on and this little girl sang along with it. She danced a routine you know she was rehearsing in the mirror right before she came. When it was over, she hit stop, picked up her boombox and skipped off the stage. I fucking hated this little girl. Why? Hold up, it's coming.
"And now, Davlin. Hey, Davlin? Are you gonna do something for us?" Paul called from the stage.
I looked at the pages I had taken from my passenger seat. The only thing I had to follow the cutest goddamned thing any of us had ever seen was "Let's Get Political". (Posted here on 12/08 Read it before proceeding to get the full effect of the story)
"Alright, fuck it!" I shouted from the back of the shop as I stood up to head to the stage. By the time I got there the mother had already dragged her daughters out the door.
I stood on the stage and scanned the crowd. When I speak in front of an audience, I look every person there in the eyes at least once. This makes them feel that at some point I'm talking to them.
"I wasn't planning on performing tonight, but since I'm up here I'm going to have a little bit of fun. I wrote this piece last year on Election Day and I think it still holds up. Alright, enough foreplay. Let's get political."
The second I finished the title I zeroed in on snooty bitch #1 who made me listen to her shitty song. This particular piece is written from the perspective of the apathetic youth of today. It's bitter, angry and everything else that keeps Bill O'Reilly up at night. I spat all that anger out into this woman's face. I put so much feeling in the piece's one F bomb, she recoiled from its impact. Her eyes widened with fear, because she knew the anti-Christ was here and he was me. (not really, though. I'm just as good an actor as she is conservative)The only sound in the establishment, other than my voice, was Paul, somewhere to my left, laughing his ass off. Everyone else stared at me, aghast
When I was finished, I hopped offstage and left.
That night reminded me why I love open mics. You can say whatever you want and people have to listen, because you have a microphone.
My time in the mental hospital: Part 2 The first night
With one hand holding the waist of my pants and the other holding a small duffel bag, I took small, awkward steps steps through the empty halls. The orderly leading me explained the situation regarding my placement and tried to prepare me for how to handle the things I was going to see. He was a young guy and he was quiet when he spoke.
"You'll be out of this wing soon, couple of days tops. Just keep your head down and try not to excite anyone."
"Duly noted."
The door to my wing opened and there while there were no patients in sight, I could hear them wailing in the back. We approached the front desk which was connected to the normal wing. I looked to my right to see an older woman with matted hair standing in the hallway and pressing her face into the wall.
The orderly takes my duffel bag for inspection and I was taken to a room for a proper medical screening. They asked me why I was there and I told them about the breakup. How seeing her everyday tore me up inside, but didn't affect her in the slightest. I would have rather she hated me, because it was her apathy that was doing me in.
"Uh-huh." Was his response.
Then I just started throwing out more random traumatic memories, things I torture myself with every single day.
"Uh-huh." Was his response.
After I made the cute female nurse leave, I asked him about an embarrassing health issue. His eyes visibly clicked with recognition as the final piece of the puzzle slid into place and he understood why I was there.
"Now, I can't help you with that. But, I don't think you're crazy. Depressed, sure, but you're not insane. You are, however, about to see crazy."
I go back to the front desk and I ask if I can go smoke. Thankfully, they say it's OK and point to the door. The smoke room was a big wooden box with benches built along the walls. Also on the walls, were years of mad ramblings carved into their surface which you could get lost in for hours.
The first time I entered the box I was not alone, there were two other guys there with me. One was a cheerful middle age white guy who said, "They, call me joker, or smiley. Cos, I'm always smilin'. He wasn't lying, cat always had a smile carved onto his face. His eyes never smiled with his lips, they hid much more malevolent emotions.
The second was an emaciated black man in his thirties. He introduced himself by many names, one of which was Joseph. He was a prophet who spoke to Jesus Christ.
I lit my cig and savored the first drag before asking, "Whatcha guys doin'?"
Joseph looked at me, "We're reading the word of God. You're a believer aren't you?"
"You know," I squeaked, "religion is very complicated. There are lot of things you have to really think about."
"Not it isn't." Joseph's eyes flashed with wrath, "You're either with us, or with them." He points to the nursing station. "They get bled like pigs."
"Oh, um...I love Jesus. So much."
"Good." Joker finally chimed in. "Cos, see we can't read so good and you talk like you can. Come sit next to us and read the word of God."
"Yes. Great idea." I wasn't relieved by Joseph's approval.
I sat down in between them and a bible was thrust into my lap. I don't remember what I read to them, but I do remember thinking the experience was the personification of my feelings regarding organized religion, particularly Christianity.
The orderly who brought me in came outside right when the guys were telling me their deranged take on the passage I'd just read.
"We need you back inside."
"Thank you so much, man. I was getting worried." I said once the door was closed behind us.
"That was about to turn into a situation. Those two are the two most dangerous patients here. Don't turn your back on them."
"Joseph said people will be bled like pigs."
"Yeah, he says that."
He informs me my bag has passed inspection, my door is to remain open at all times, the rooms are monitored and I will be given a pill to help me sleep. He doesn't tell me what it is and I don't ask.
"What do you want to drink?" he asks. "We've got apple juice, orange juice, milk, chocolate milk..."
"Chocolate milk!" I say with the enthusiasm of a five year old.
He gives me two, which is more than I want, but I pop the pill and chug em both down because I doubt I'll have a minifridge in my room. Once I'm nauseous from the mixture of too much dairy and old Mexican food, he tells me where to find my room.
As I walk the halls I don't dare look into any of the open rooms, for fear at what I might find. I finally reach mine and when I cross its threshold I get a horrifying view of the woman from the hallway staring at me while completely naked. An involuntary burp filled my mouth with a concoction of fajitas, chocolate milk and vomit.
"This is my room!" She tells me as she stomps her foot.
"Okie-dokie." Was all I could come up with before I left.
I tell the orderly, "There's a naked woman in my room. This is the first time in my life I'm not stoked to say that sentence."
"Oh, um...ok. Take the one across from her, I'm pretty sure it's empty."
"Awesome, thanks."
My new room was empty, but being forced to sleep with the door open meant it didn't make me feel any more reassured. I put my clothes in the cubby hole they gave me and brought my personal effects and put them in the nightstand by my bed. These effects included, one notebook and one pen. Both were given to me by the doctor.
The only luxury I truly missed was my music, so I spent the next 30 minutes writing lyrics to my favorite songs so I wouldn't forget them.
I glanced up and spotted a black box with a red light in the upper right hand corner. "That's odd," I thought. I then looked around to find them in every corner. This is when I remember what the orderly said,
"...all of the rooms are monitored..."
Fuck. This meant I wasn't even going to have the one natural stress reliever I've used every day since I was 13. (Grow up, I'm just talking about jacking off)
I sighed deeply, and turned out the light. The bed was uncomfortable, fitted with rubber sheets and one pillow and blanket which were almost paper thin. I used the pillow to block out the cacophony from the rooms outside. While it did manage to soften the noise from the external voices, the internal ones were turned up to 11.
"WHYAMIHEREWILLTHISMAKEHERLOVEMEYOUBROKEYOURMOTHERSHEARTSHEBROKEMINEFIRSTWEALWAYSKNEWITWOULDCOMETOTHISGOD WHY HAVEN'T THE SLEEPING PILLS KICKED I-"
When I awoke it was still dark out and something felt wrong. I was groggy from the pill I took and reached my hand under the blanket and it came back wet. The meds put me down so hard I pissed the bed. I walked to the front desk and stood there for a few moments, because I forgot why I went.
"Yes?" my best friend the male orderly asked with nervous eyes.
"mmlosthm"
"You're lost?"
"No! I lost something. Can you help me find it?"
"Well, what'd you lose?"
"My fuckin' dignity, have you seen it?"
"What?"
"Never mind. Can I have some clean sheets, please?"
His expression was quizzical, but he obliged. I went back and passed out again, unaware of what the next day would bring.
"You'll be out of this wing soon, couple of days tops. Just keep your head down and try not to excite anyone."
"Duly noted."
The door to my wing opened and there while there were no patients in sight, I could hear them wailing in the back. We approached the front desk which was connected to the normal wing. I looked to my right to see an older woman with matted hair standing in the hallway and pressing her face into the wall.
The orderly takes my duffel bag for inspection and I was taken to a room for a proper medical screening. They asked me why I was there and I told them about the breakup. How seeing her everyday tore me up inside, but didn't affect her in the slightest. I would have rather she hated me, because it was her apathy that was doing me in.
"Uh-huh." Was his response.
Then I just started throwing out more random traumatic memories, things I torture myself with every single day.
"Uh-huh." Was his response.
After I made the cute female nurse leave, I asked him about an embarrassing health issue. His eyes visibly clicked with recognition as the final piece of the puzzle slid into place and he understood why I was there.
"Now, I can't help you with that. But, I don't think you're crazy. Depressed, sure, but you're not insane. You are, however, about to see crazy."
I go back to the front desk and I ask if I can go smoke. Thankfully, they say it's OK and point to the door. The smoke room was a big wooden box with benches built along the walls. Also on the walls, were years of mad ramblings carved into their surface which you could get lost in for hours.
The first time I entered the box I was not alone, there were two other guys there with me. One was a cheerful middle age white guy who said, "They, call me joker, or smiley. Cos, I'm always smilin'. He wasn't lying, cat always had a smile carved onto his face. His eyes never smiled with his lips, they hid much more malevolent emotions.
The second was an emaciated black man in his thirties. He introduced himself by many names, one of which was Joseph. He was a prophet who spoke to Jesus Christ.
I lit my cig and savored the first drag before asking, "Whatcha guys doin'?"
Joseph looked at me, "We're reading the word of God. You're a believer aren't you?"
"You know," I squeaked, "religion is very complicated. There are lot of things you have to really think about."
"Not it isn't." Joseph's eyes flashed with wrath, "You're either with us, or with them." He points to the nursing station. "They get bled like pigs."
"Oh, um...I love Jesus. So much."
"Good." Joker finally chimed in. "Cos, see we can't read so good and you talk like you can. Come sit next to us and read the word of God."
"Yes. Great idea." I wasn't relieved by Joseph's approval.
I sat down in between them and a bible was thrust into my lap. I don't remember what I read to them, but I do remember thinking the experience was the personification of my feelings regarding organized religion, particularly Christianity.
The orderly who brought me in came outside right when the guys were telling me their deranged take on the passage I'd just read.
"We need you back inside."
"Thank you so much, man. I was getting worried." I said once the door was closed behind us.
"That was about to turn into a situation. Those two are the two most dangerous patients here. Don't turn your back on them."
"Joseph said people will be bled like pigs."
"Yeah, he says that."
He informs me my bag has passed inspection, my door is to remain open at all times, the rooms are monitored and I will be given a pill to help me sleep. He doesn't tell me what it is and I don't ask.
"What do you want to drink?" he asks. "We've got apple juice, orange juice, milk, chocolate milk..."
"Chocolate milk!" I say with the enthusiasm of a five year old.
He gives me two, which is more than I want, but I pop the pill and chug em both down because I doubt I'll have a minifridge in my room. Once I'm nauseous from the mixture of too much dairy and old Mexican food, he tells me where to find my room.
As I walk the halls I don't dare look into any of the open rooms, for fear at what I might find. I finally reach mine and when I cross its threshold I get a horrifying view of the woman from the hallway staring at me while completely naked. An involuntary burp filled my mouth with a concoction of fajitas, chocolate milk and vomit.
"This is my room!" She tells me as she stomps her foot.
"Okie-dokie." Was all I could come up with before I left.
I tell the orderly, "There's a naked woman in my room. This is the first time in my life I'm not stoked to say that sentence."
"Oh, um...ok. Take the one across from her, I'm pretty sure it's empty."
"Awesome, thanks."
My new room was empty, but being forced to sleep with the door open meant it didn't make me feel any more reassured. I put my clothes in the cubby hole they gave me and brought my personal effects and put them in the nightstand by my bed. These effects included, one notebook and one pen. Both were given to me by the doctor.
The only luxury I truly missed was my music, so I spent the next 30 minutes writing lyrics to my favorite songs so I wouldn't forget them.
I glanced up and spotted a black box with a red light in the upper right hand corner. "That's odd," I thought. I then looked around to find them in every corner. This is when I remember what the orderly said,
"...all of the rooms are monitored..."
Fuck. This meant I wasn't even going to have the one natural stress reliever I've used every day since I was 13. (Grow up, I'm just talking about jacking off)
I sighed deeply, and turned out the light. The bed was uncomfortable, fitted with rubber sheets and one pillow and blanket which were almost paper thin. I used the pillow to block out the cacophony from the rooms outside. While it did manage to soften the noise from the external voices, the internal ones were turned up to 11.
"WHYAMIHEREWILLTHISMAKEHERLOVEMEYOUBROKEYOURMOTHERSHEARTSHEBROKEMINEFIRSTWEALWAYSKNEWITWOULDCOMETOTHISGOD WHY HAVEN'T THE SLEEPING PILLS KICKED I-"
When I awoke it was still dark out and something felt wrong. I was groggy from the pill I took and reached my hand under the blanket and it came back wet. The meds put me down so hard I pissed the bed. I walked to the front desk and stood there for a few moments, because I forgot why I went.
"Yes?" my best friend the male orderly asked with nervous eyes.
"mmlosthm"
"You're lost?"
"No! I lost something. Can you help me find it?"
"Well, what'd you lose?"
"My fuckin' dignity, have you seen it?"
"What?"
"Never mind. Can I have some clean sheets, please?"
His expression was quizzical, but he obliged. I went back and passed out again, unaware of what the next day would bring.
Validation
This is a comment I received today on the "Find Your Voice" page of www.bledoutontoapage.com
"Your words are precious balm. Too many sould need to hear truths of this sort, but are too wrapped up in their own pain to even begin to search for help, because they think they are beyond help. As long as there is breath in your body, there is someone else who can understand and help. You could be that someone for so many people. Keep it up."
I can't thank you enough for this, Donna. This is the exact thing I'm trying to be.
"Your words are precious balm. Too many sould need to hear truths of this sort, but are too wrapped up in their own pain to even begin to search for help, because they think they are beyond help. As long as there is breath in your body, there is someone else who can understand and help. You could be that someone for so many people. Keep it up."
I can't thank you enough for this, Donna. This is the exact thing I'm trying to be.
My time in the mental hospital: Part 1
There are painful things about my past which people in my personal life know about, but won't let me discuss. I can't talk about them because of how it makes them feel. This means I have to kill myself by keeping it all inside. I'm not going to live like that anymore. Here's a story I've been needing to tell for 2 and a half years.
A couple of weeks before my 23rd birthday, I was in a bad way. I was allowing Allison to string me along, seeing horrible doctors and hearing a voice which told me to kill myself. Due to a lack of another viable option I decided to check myself into a mental hospital.
The only people I told before I left were a lady in HR and my boss. My boss also had a big mouth, I later found out.
I drove my car to my mom's house and waited for her to get home to take me up there. I just remember sitting in her living room. Everything was quiet except for the sounds of my sister swimming in the backyard and the obnoxious wind chime by the back door. My hands shook as I put my headphones on and listened to "HRSA" by Blue October. Then I wept.
Mom got home and the next thing I remember is pumping gas for her. Then us eating in painful silence where I couldn't bring myself to look at her.
After that, we got to the hospital and they gave me paperwork to fill out and hand back. My mom tried to stay positive, but I knew as soon as she was inside her car she was going to unload. Before they took us back I had to give them my belt and shoelaces. I had to constantly hold my pants up with one hand, while trying not to walk out of my shoes and was never successful at either.
A doctor asked me questions and my mom became visibly hurt by some of the answers I had given. When the interrogation was over, the doctor told mom she had to leave. She was barely able to stifle the cry as she embraced me, then I was all alone.
The wing for patients who were bi-polar and on drug rehabilitation was full, so they stuck me with the ones who were prone to unpredictable and violent outbursts. The next 48 hours were terrifying and I've never seen a movie do it justice, but I'm not ready to go any further right now.
To be continued...
A couple of weeks before my 23rd birthday, I was in a bad way. I was allowing Allison to string me along, seeing horrible doctors and hearing a voice which told me to kill myself. Due to a lack of another viable option I decided to check myself into a mental hospital.
The only people I told before I left were a lady in HR and my boss. My boss also had a big mouth, I later found out.
I drove my car to my mom's house and waited for her to get home to take me up there. I just remember sitting in her living room. Everything was quiet except for the sounds of my sister swimming in the backyard and the obnoxious wind chime by the back door. My hands shook as I put my headphones on and listened to "HRSA" by Blue October. Then I wept.
Mom got home and the next thing I remember is pumping gas for her. Then us eating in painful silence where I couldn't bring myself to look at her.
After that, we got to the hospital and they gave me paperwork to fill out and hand back. My mom tried to stay positive, but I knew as soon as she was inside her car she was going to unload. Before they took us back I had to give them my belt and shoelaces. I had to constantly hold my pants up with one hand, while trying not to walk out of my shoes and was never successful at either.
A doctor asked me questions and my mom became visibly hurt by some of the answers I had given. When the interrogation was over, the doctor told mom she had to leave. She was barely able to stifle the cry as she embraced me, then I was all alone.
The wing for patients who were bi-polar and on drug rehabilitation was full, so they stuck me with the ones who were prone to unpredictable and violent outbursts. The next 48 hours were terrifying and I've never seen a movie do it justice, but I'm not ready to go any further right now.
To be continued...
Top Five Favorite Albums
Criteria: One album per band. More than 8 songs must be phenomenal.
5. New Found Glory-New Found Glory
The soundtrack to my high school career is filled with emo, pop-punk bands and it all began with the song "Hit or Miss". After viewing the video on MTVX, (hey, does anyone else remember The Box?), I immediately went to my favorite hole in the wall record store to buy a copy. It became the gateway album which led to Blink-182, Good Charlotte, Dashboard Confessional and several other bands I still listen to today.
They were the one thing her and I ever agreed upon.
4. The Great Milenko-Insane Clown Posse
I love me some ICP and Milenko served as our introduction back when I was in 8th grade. The record was unlike anything I'd ever heard. With the fourth Jokers card the boys created something vulgar, horrifying, violent and hysterical all at the same time. It's absolutely flawless.
The story behind the making and release of this album is almost as good as the music it contains. Google it.
3. Argue With a Tree (Dual disc live album)-Blue October
It's scary how much I relate to Blue October's lead singer, Justin Furstenfeld. Not only is the this best live album I've ever heard, but many of the tracks are ten times better than their studio recordings. This is simply one of those bands which sounds better in person and this is TWO discs of magic in a bottle.
Life imitating art: I've personally lived the song "HRSA".
2. Sparkle and Fade-Everclear
I stole this album from my dad back in middle school and put it on every once in awhile. I didn't truly hear it until my first obsession kept my entire CD collection except for S&F for over a week during my sophomore year. That's an eternity for a moody high schooler. During that time I listened to it all the way through over 100 times. It's the first album I really connected to emotionally. Frontman Art Alexakis cuts himself wide open and bleeds out on every track. The pain in is vocals is heartbreaking, but it's provided me with comfort for ten years.
Fun Fact: Art wrote and recorded my favorite track off the record by himself in a couple of hours. This dude doesn't fuck around.
1. Daisy-Brand New
What can I say about this album? "Vices" is an unexpected and jarring open, but at the 1:25 mark the guitars explode and violent lyrics about the pain of divorce let you know you're in for one hell of a ride. Every song manages to keep you guessing, while the final one perfectly ties it all together. While this album is certainly not for everyone, I highly recommend it for those of you who are adventurous and can see the beauty hidden just below the surface.
Also, if it's your first time to listen to this album; wear headphones and read the lyrics.
5. New Found Glory-New Found Glory
The soundtrack to my high school career is filled with emo, pop-punk bands and it all began with the song "Hit or Miss". After viewing the video on MTVX, (hey, does anyone else remember The Box?), I immediately went to my favorite hole in the wall record store to buy a copy. It became the gateway album which led to Blink-182, Good Charlotte, Dashboard Confessional and several other bands I still listen to today.
They were the one thing her and I ever agreed upon.
4. The Great Milenko-Insane Clown Posse
I love me some ICP and Milenko served as our introduction back when I was in 8th grade. The record was unlike anything I'd ever heard. With the fourth Jokers card the boys created something vulgar, horrifying, violent and hysterical all at the same time. It's absolutely flawless.
The story behind the making and release of this album is almost as good as the music it contains. Google it.
3. Argue With a Tree (Dual disc live album)-Blue October
It's scary how much I relate to Blue October's lead singer, Justin Furstenfeld. Not only is the this best live album I've ever heard, but many of the tracks are ten times better than their studio recordings. This is simply one of those bands which sounds better in person and this is TWO discs of magic in a bottle.
Life imitating art: I've personally lived the song "HRSA".
2. Sparkle and Fade-Everclear
I stole this album from my dad back in middle school and put it on every once in awhile. I didn't truly hear it until my first obsession kept my entire CD collection except for S&F for over a week during my sophomore year. That's an eternity for a moody high schooler. During that time I listened to it all the way through over 100 times. It's the first album I really connected to emotionally. Frontman Art Alexakis cuts himself wide open and bleeds out on every track. The pain in is vocals is heartbreaking, but it's provided me with comfort for ten years.
Fun Fact: Art wrote and recorded my favorite track off the record by himself in a couple of hours. This dude doesn't fuck around.
1. Daisy-Brand New
What can I say about this album? "Vices" is an unexpected and jarring open, but at the 1:25 mark the guitars explode and violent lyrics about the pain of divorce let you know you're in for one hell of a ride. Every song manages to keep you guessing, while the final one perfectly ties it all together. While this album is certainly not for everyone, I highly recommend it for those of you who are adventurous and can see the beauty hidden just below the surface.
Also, if it's your first time to listen to this album; wear headphones and read the lyrics.
Concert Memories: New Found Glory
I've seen NFG play three different times and, despite the band always delivering an amazing show, each one was an unmitigated disaster.
1. I first saw them early on during my sophomore year in high school. I talked my dad into getting me the tickets and I invited a close friend who I'd always had a crush on to go with me. Right before the day of the show she backed out and I was crushed. In the final desperate hours, I asked this unstable girl I wasn't too familiar with from my history class and she accepted.
Dad had a hook up at the venue, so we had great seats and free refreshments. It was everything a 15 year old could dream of. NFG fucking rocked their set and were followed by Blink-182. It was while they were on I looked over to my companion to see her making out with the guy sitting next to her. She never did thank me for taking her to the show.
2. The band was one of the many I couldn't wait to see at Warped Tour '04. Lisa, the girl I was dating at the time, died our hair blue for the event. It was raining, which made the dye run and ruin the new shirts we had bought. Shortly after I found out most of the bands I had wanted to see had canceled and I had an awkward run in with my first obsession. After that crisis was averted, we grabbed great seats right next to the stage just in time to see NFG come on.
Thirty seconds into their first song we were nearly crushed by the massive number of people swarming the stage. Suddenly, we were in the middle of the biggest mosh pit I'd ever seen and I started having a panic attack. Something in the air caught my eye just in time for me to recognize it as a beer bottle before it hit my girlfriend in the head.
My protective instincts kicked in and I grabbed her by the arm and started fighting through the sea of bodies to get her to safety. Halfway through I came to a clearing and was able to breathe for a moment. My eyes glanced upward to see a guy standing 5 feet in front of me. His frenzied eyes scanned the crowd and before finally meeting mine. He smiled as his fists clenched and unclenched. Then came at me and kicked me in the balls. I fell to my knees for a few seconds and by the time I finally got back on my feet he was gone. Still holding Lisa's hand I tore into a full sprint into the crowd. As soon as we reached safety I let her go, went into the bathroom and threw up. We left shortly after.
3. The last time I was with Allison, right when the shit storm had been dropped. That's all I have to say about that.
1. I first saw them early on during my sophomore year in high school. I talked my dad into getting me the tickets and I invited a close friend who I'd always had a crush on to go with me. Right before the day of the show she backed out and I was crushed. In the final desperate hours, I asked this unstable girl I wasn't too familiar with from my history class and she accepted.
Dad had a hook up at the venue, so we had great seats and free refreshments. It was everything a 15 year old could dream of. NFG fucking rocked their set and were followed by Blink-182. It was while they were on I looked over to my companion to see her making out with the guy sitting next to her. She never did thank me for taking her to the show.
2. The band was one of the many I couldn't wait to see at Warped Tour '04. Lisa, the girl I was dating at the time, died our hair blue for the event. It was raining, which made the dye run and ruin the new shirts we had bought. Shortly after I found out most of the bands I had wanted to see had canceled and I had an awkward run in with my first obsession. After that crisis was averted, we grabbed great seats right next to the stage just in time to see NFG come on.
Thirty seconds into their first song we were nearly crushed by the massive number of people swarming the stage. Suddenly, we were in the middle of the biggest mosh pit I'd ever seen and I started having a panic attack. Something in the air caught my eye just in time for me to recognize it as a beer bottle before it hit my girlfriend in the head.
My protective instincts kicked in and I grabbed her by the arm and started fighting through the sea of bodies to get her to safety. Halfway through I came to a clearing and was able to breathe for a moment. My eyes glanced upward to see a guy standing 5 feet in front of me. His frenzied eyes scanned the crowd and before finally meeting mine. He smiled as his fists clenched and unclenched. Then came at me and kicked me in the balls. I fell to my knees for a few seconds and by the time I finally got back on my feet he was gone. Still holding Lisa's hand I tore into a full sprint into the crowd. As soon as we reached safety I let her go, went into the bathroom and threw up. We left shortly after.
3. The last time I was with Allison, right when the shit storm had been dropped. That's all I have to say about that.
I don't care what anyone says. I'm hilarious
Me: Fuck him, he's spiteful. Ive been doing a lot of research lately and I think I've figured out why we are the way we are.
Her: Why?
Me: Because really, deep down we're just animals in clothes. But we're smart enough to fight our nature, even though we lose every time.
Her: That's true. But still...I mean really, come on it's not that hard to not be an ass.
Me: It is if deep down you're an asshole
Her: Why?
Me: Because really, deep down we're just animals in clothes. But we're smart enough to fight our nature, even though we lose every time.
Her: That's true. But still...I mean really, come on it's not that hard to not be an ass.
Me: It is if deep down you're an asshole
I just had to share this with you.
I was talking to my friend Mike about working in Blockbuster, when I called him a "pissy cashier." This was his response.
"Talk about pissy cashier, I think you hold the record for being the pissiest bbuster of all time and u hold it three times in two states sir maybe even three cities, and one of the times you weren't even a cashier I recall these with u:
Davlin: how r u?
Customer:fine u?
Davlin: crappy blockbuster isn't paying me to be here.(from when they overpaid you and were retrying it) another situation
Davlin:you want this game on 360
kid: yeah I got two of them
Davlin: wow, that must be nice some of us cant even afford to eat."
Good stuff.
"Talk about pissy cashier, I think you hold the record for being the pissiest bbuster of all time and u hold it three times in two states sir maybe even three cities, and one of the times you weren't even a cashier I recall these with u:
Davlin: how r u?
Customer:fine u?
Davlin: crappy blockbuster isn't paying me to be here.(from when they overpaid you and were retrying it) another situation
Davlin:you want this game on 360
kid: yeah I got two of them
Davlin: wow, that must be nice some of us cant even afford to eat."
Good stuff.
maxIM
Me: Do you know what I think one of the hardest parts of growing up is?
Her:what?
Me: When you're a kid, you have this entirely skewed images of the adults in your life. They all seem relatively happy, like they've got it all figured out. Then you grow up and you get to know them as people; instead of gods, monsters or authority figures. You see how flawed they are and come to realize nobody has ever really had it figured out. You see marriages you thought were solid end up being bitter charades. It's a tough thing to accept at first.
But when you do, you can also see the reasons for their actions. This helps you see them for the wonderful people they are, the sacrifices they made for you.
Then the mistakes don't seem so bad.
Her: If we only knew then what we know now! Acceptance is hard but it's the only way to be happy
Me: But if we had that knowledge then, we would have never been able to be children. Because in order to learn them, you have to lose your innocence.
Her:what?
Me: When you're a kid, you have this entirely skewed images of the adults in your life. They all seem relatively happy, like they've got it all figured out. Then you grow up and you get to know them as people; instead of gods, monsters or authority figures. You see how flawed they are and come to realize nobody has ever really had it figured out. You see marriages you thought were solid end up being bitter charades. It's a tough thing to accept at first.
But when you do, you can also see the reasons for their actions. This helps you see them for the wonderful people they are, the sacrifices they made for you.
Then the mistakes don't seem so bad.
Her: If we only knew then what we know now! Acceptance is hard but it's the only way to be happy
Me: But if we had that knowledge then, we would have never been able to be children. Because in order to learn them, you have to lose your innocence.
"Learning how to smile"
I feel different now. It's almost like the last piece of the puzzle has slid into place. When I walk, there's this swagger to it and my head is held high. The smiles gracing my face lately are no longer forced and are often there without me realizing. When I sit down to write, the words come easier and are about different topics than heartache and misery. Oh, I still write them and I always will, but they're nowhere near as prevalent. There have been several other good things, too.
I drove my big sister home from work today in my new car. Every time she looked at me she beamed with pride. Before I dropped her off she told me, "it's so nice I have a brother I can count on!" Long story, not mine to tell, but it was then my turn to beam.
I'm getting some really exciting projects at work, even begun taking business trips. (Lafayette next week, maybe California at the end of the month) I've got an office and a vast assortment of other blessings. Sometimes when I'm at my desk it all hits me and I can't believe how much has changed in the (almost) four years I've been there. I mean, this is where it all happened.
I went over to my friend, Alex's, house a little while ago. I was talking to him and his cousin about hip-hop. (this made me ecstatic because I was able to keep up) Eventually he mentioned to his cousin that I was a writer and I handed him a card. They asked me questions about the site and I told them only about its features and the mission statement. Alex said he wanted to get back into music and I told him to go for it in a very heartfelt speech I wish I could remember. Before I left his cousin asked me what kind of writing I do and I performed "Bi-polar" for him. It doesn't matter how many people are in the audience, as long as you have one person feeling what you're saying, then you had a good show.
I understand there's a lot of bad in the world, God knows I've done my fair share of focusing on it, but I've learned that in order for your mind to properly function you need to learn to see the good as well. So, what about you? What's made you smile recently?
I drove my big sister home from work today in my new car. Every time she looked at me she beamed with pride. Before I dropped her off she told me, "it's so nice I have a brother I can count on!" Long story, not mine to tell, but it was then my turn to beam.
I'm getting some really exciting projects at work, even begun taking business trips. (Lafayette next week, maybe California at the end of the month) I've got an office and a vast assortment of other blessings. Sometimes when I'm at my desk it all hits me and I can't believe how much has changed in the (almost) four years I've been there. I mean, this is where it all happened.
I went over to my friend, Alex's, house a little while ago. I was talking to him and his cousin about hip-hop. (this made me ecstatic because I was able to keep up) Eventually he mentioned to his cousin that I was a writer and I handed him a card. They asked me questions about the site and I told them only about its features and the mission statement. Alex said he wanted to get back into music and I told him to go for it in a very heartfelt speech I wish I could remember. Before I left his cousin asked me what kind of writing I do and I performed "Bi-polar" for him. It doesn't matter how many people are in the audience, as long as you have one person feeling what you're saying, then you had a good show.
I understand there's a lot of bad in the world, God knows I've done my fair share of focusing on it, but I've learned that in order for your mind to properly function you need to learn to see the good as well. So, what about you? What's made you smile recently?
Davlin's guide to etiquette: the car
One of my favorite past times is going for a long, late night drive with lots of loud music and no destination in mind.
The night sky, open road and music playing so loud I can feel it; all of these elements combined create the closest thing I've ever had to a religious experience. It brings me a sense of peace I can't find anywhere else.
It's sacred to me.
For the most part, during these outings I like to be alone. This is mostly because I haven't met many people who know how to shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride. They have to fill every single silence with banal chatter, when all I want to do is listen to the song on the radio. I try to focus on the lyrics, but they are no match for the vocalization of every single fucking thought running through my companion's head.
Personally, I think everyone could benefit from only speaking when they have something meaningful to say. At least, as far as being in the car is concerned.
Here are some things I do not want to discuss when we are trapped together inside a metal coffin driven at high speeds by someone trying to make eye contact with me.
1. Your writing
2. Arguments of any kind (the drive is meant to calm you down so you don't say anything you might regret during an extremely volatile situation)
3. Work stories. They are only interesting to those you work with. Trust me, I've got some awesome work stories and nobody gives a shit.
4. Me needing to go back to therapy (really wish that hasn't happened enough to be #4)
5. TV shows. In fact, I don't ever want to spend more than five minutes of any conversation on TV. It makes me sad.
Here are the only topics that are deemed appropriate (by me) while we are in a vehicle together.
1. My writing
2. Family (only if heading to/coming away from a family event)
3. The song on the radio (or music in general)
4. Sex stories
5. Deep conversations on life shattering events that helped shaped who we've become/crazy stories from our past
Think about it. We spend a vast amount of time with those in our personal lives in vehicles. This is why I take the way that time is spent so seriously.
Case in point:
I dated Lisa back when I was 19. The beginning of the relationship was idyllic, though it did eventually rot as these things tend to do. But the memories I continue to treasure the most are the drives we used to take together.
We'd hold hands in silence, just happy to be alone together. She'd let me play my favorite bands for her, eventually singing along to the songs, herself. The windows would be down, letting the warm summer breeze kiss our faces. If she was driving, I would lay my head against the door, close my eyes and smile.
Our destination was usually half price books where we'd go for cherry cokes almost twice a week. Beverages in tow, we'd sit at one of the tables outside and get lost in conversations. Our fingers interlocking. Stretching to kiss across the table. Tongues laced with cherry syrup and tobacco. Her breath growing faintly...
*Cough cough* Ahem. Whoa. Sorry about that.
All I'm trying to say is we can still have fun when we leave the car, just let me enjoy the ride until we do.
The night sky, open road and music playing so loud I can feel it; all of these elements combined create the closest thing I've ever had to a religious experience. It brings me a sense of peace I can't find anywhere else.
It's sacred to me.
For the most part, during these outings I like to be alone. This is mostly because I haven't met many people who know how to shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride. They have to fill every single silence with banal chatter, when all I want to do is listen to the song on the radio. I try to focus on the lyrics, but they are no match for the vocalization of every single fucking thought running through my companion's head.
Personally, I think everyone could benefit from only speaking when they have something meaningful to say. At least, as far as being in the car is concerned.
Here are some things I do not want to discuss when we are trapped together inside a metal coffin driven at high speeds by someone trying to make eye contact with me.
1. Your writing
2. Arguments of any kind (the drive is meant to calm you down so you don't say anything you might regret during an extremely volatile situation)
3. Work stories. They are only interesting to those you work with. Trust me, I've got some awesome work stories and nobody gives a shit.
4. Me needing to go back to therapy (really wish that hasn't happened enough to be #4)
5. TV shows. In fact, I don't ever want to spend more than five minutes of any conversation on TV. It makes me sad.
Here are the only topics that are deemed appropriate (by me) while we are in a vehicle together.
1. My writing
2. Family (only if heading to/coming away from a family event)
3. The song on the radio (or music in general)
4. Sex stories
5. Deep conversations on life shattering events that helped shaped who we've become/crazy stories from our past
Think about it. We spend a vast amount of time with those in our personal lives in vehicles. This is why I take the way that time is spent so seriously.
Case in point:
I dated Lisa back when I was 19. The beginning of the relationship was idyllic, though it did eventually rot as these things tend to do. But the memories I continue to treasure the most are the drives we used to take together.
We'd hold hands in silence, just happy to be alone together. She'd let me play my favorite bands for her, eventually singing along to the songs, herself. The windows would be down, letting the warm summer breeze kiss our faces. If she was driving, I would lay my head against the door, close my eyes and smile.
Our destination was usually half price books where we'd go for cherry cokes almost twice a week. Beverages in tow, we'd sit at one of the tables outside and get lost in conversations. Our fingers interlocking. Stretching to kiss across the table. Tongues laced with cherry syrup and tobacco. Her breath growing faintly...
*Cough cough* Ahem. Whoa. Sorry about that.
All I'm trying to say is we can still have fun when we leave the car, just let me enjoy the ride until we do.
This has been a long time coming.
I've never felt this proud or more thankful in my entire life. I finally see the good things happening all around me, instead of always zeroing in on all the shit. It's actually pretty refreshing.
I now have reliable statistics on the number of hits all my outlets are getting and I have to say I'm astonished by the high the numbers for this blog. It's been viewed by (almost) thousands of people from all over the world. Have you ever been so proud you cried? It's a good feeling.
For my final piece of 2010 I wanted to let you know how much you being here means to me.
For those of you who just read one piece and moved on, thank you for giving it a shot. I have no hard feelings if you don't dig what I do.
For those of you "blog surfing" and were on mine for .0003 seconds, slow down a bit. Oh, also thank you for increasing my hits and, therefore, inflating my ego.
To all my visitors from foreign countries who can read English; thank you and I'm sorry my country can be a bit of a dick at times. Our hearts are in the right place, we just need to use our brains a little more when logic comes into play.
For all my offshore guests who can't read English. You probably never understood a single thing I've written here, but thank you all the same. And poop. poop poop poop poopoooppooooppooppoopofpoapfoapdopasdofpasopssssssssssssss
Speaking of nonsense, to all the bots who left countless (meaning I'm too lazy to go and count them all) Engrish words of wisdom or insult, which were always followed by links to porn sites written in hieroglyphics. Thank you for inspiring a piece and making every time I checked my email just a little more interesting.
For those of you who secretly follow this and, or, check my site regularly; thank you so much. While you're not the reason I do this, you are what makes it worthwhile.
To Amber, Missy, Danni and Kiara; I sincerely thank you for the support and strength. While I choose not to go into details about my specific feelings for each, the four of you hold very special places in my heart.
And, last but certainly not least, to "the girl who taught me the art of letting go";...this is the first time thinking about you leaves me without a single thought. Interesting.
Tonight, go out and have fun, but be safe. I need you well and rested for 2011.
Shit's goin down.
I now have reliable statistics on the number of hits all my outlets are getting and I have to say I'm astonished by the high the numbers for this blog. It's been viewed by (almost) thousands of people from all over the world. Have you ever been so proud you cried? It's a good feeling.
For my final piece of 2010 I wanted to let you know how much you being here means to me.
For those of you who just read one piece and moved on, thank you for giving it a shot. I have no hard feelings if you don't dig what I do.
For those of you "blog surfing" and were on mine for .0003 seconds, slow down a bit. Oh, also thank you for increasing my hits and, therefore, inflating my ego.
To all my visitors from foreign countries who can read English; thank you and I'm sorry my country can be a bit of a dick at times. Our hearts are in the right place, we just need to use our brains a little more when logic comes into play.
For all my offshore guests who can't read English. You probably never understood a single thing I've written here, but thank you all the same. And poop. poop poop poop poopoooppooooppooppoopofpoapfoapdopasdofpasopssssssssssssss
Speaking of nonsense, to all the bots who left countless (meaning I'm too lazy to go and count them all) Engrish words of wisdom or insult, which were always followed by links to porn sites written in hieroglyphics. Thank you for inspiring a piece and making every time I checked my email just a little more interesting.
For those of you who secretly follow this and, or, check my site regularly; thank you so much. While you're not the reason I do this, you are what makes it worthwhile.
To Amber, Missy, Danni and Kiara; I sincerely thank you for the support and strength. While I choose not to go into details about my specific feelings for each, the four of you hold very special places in my heart.
And, last but certainly not least, to "the girl who taught me the art of letting go";...this is the first time thinking about you leaves me without a single thought. Interesting.
Tonight, go out and have fun, but be safe. I need you well and rested for 2011.
Shit's goin down.
Pay attention.
If you're not reading between the lines or exploring every rabbit hole, you're missing out on the best parts of what I do. I used to be a writer, but it's becoming so much more than the words bled out onto a page. No, it's gotten bigger. In order to truly see how many levels this is all working on, you're going to have to work for it.
I promise you though, the secrets you uncover will be well worth the time and effort.
Happy hunting.
I promise you though, the secrets you uncover will be well worth the time and effort.
Happy hunting.
Loss Pt. 2: The eulogy I wish I had given
It's funny the difference a year can make.
I still remember your funeral. The pastor and other members of the church talked about you. They said they didn't know you before you found God, but they liked the Mark they knew after you sheeped up. In fact, you got two different eulogies. One was for the Mark people saw at church. They referred to the Mark I knew, and loved, as "That Other Mark."
This made me furious, though no one else felt aggrieved.
I felt this away every time a church representative spoke, but you should have seen Vinnie. Your son has the heart of a lion, man. Just like his old man.
To me the scariest thing about dying has always been just how fast everyone else moves on without you. I mean, that's what we did once the ache of losing you subsided. Because, once you're gone the people you love are still here. What other choice do they have?
But you're not forgotten. I think about you all the time. Mostly at family functions, because we were always attached at the hip. I wander around lost during them now, like I'm looking for someone I'm never going to find again.
You were the first, of two, family members to read my book. Hearing you talk about it was the first time I truly felt accomplished as a writer.
I think about you when I listen to our most frequent topic of conversation, The Russ Martin Show. He finally made it back on the air, six months too late.
I miss driving around for hours laughing and crying as you'd tell me all about your life. I still treasure your tales of being a professional wrestler. The pastor mentioned this era of your life briefly and dismissively. It was his goddamned dream and it was given one sentence.
See, I knew you as "That Other Mark" and you were a beautiful human being.
You were the brother I never had.
And I miss you.
I still remember your funeral. The pastor and other members of the church talked about you. They said they didn't know you before you found God, but they liked the Mark they knew after you sheeped up. In fact, you got two different eulogies. One was for the Mark people saw at church. They referred to the Mark I knew, and loved, as "That Other Mark."
This made me furious, though no one else felt aggrieved.
I felt this away every time a church representative spoke, but you should have seen Vinnie. Your son has the heart of a lion, man. Just like his old man.
To me the scariest thing about dying has always been just how fast everyone else moves on without you. I mean, that's what we did once the ache of losing you subsided. Because, once you're gone the people you love are still here. What other choice do they have?
But you're not forgotten. I think about you all the time. Mostly at family functions, because we were always attached at the hip. I wander around lost during them now, like I'm looking for someone I'm never going to find again.
You were the first, of two, family members to read my book. Hearing you talk about it was the first time I truly felt accomplished as a writer.
I think about you when I listen to our most frequent topic of conversation, The Russ Martin Show. He finally made it back on the air, six months too late.
I miss driving around for hours laughing and crying as you'd tell me all about your life. I still treasure your tales of being a professional wrestler. The pastor mentioned this era of your life briefly and dismissively. It was his goddamned dream and it was given one sentence.
See, I knew you as "That Other Mark" and you were a beautiful human being.
You were the brother I never had.
And I miss you.
New audio and a touching moment
I've just finished recording the audio for "Haunted". I originally wrote this piece back in June of '08. I really like doing this stuff because it allows me to breathe new life into old words. It also provides a genuine look into my state of mind at crucial points in my past. It's the fourth one I've done so far; with "My muse", "Expulsion" and "Wake up call" being the others. All of them can be found on the Audile page of www.bledoutontoapage.com
Well, since you've brought up my site I'll tell you a story. A couple of days ago my closest and most missed friend from South Carolina was checking it out and got inspired and created 4 animated promos for it. (you can find them on the F.R.H. TV page) Two of them really stuck with me. The first one I won't ruin it for you, but it's on the Intro page. For the second one, he took lyrics from "Deja Vu" and made a minute long cartoon for it. It was a little low tech, but that only added to its charm. I recorded audio of me singing the lyrics and I can't wait to see what he does with it.
That's about all for now. Expect a lot of site updates in the future...it's kind of my life now.
Well, since you've brought up my site I'll tell you a story. A couple of days ago my closest and most missed friend from South Carolina was checking it out and got inspired and created 4 animated promos for it. (you can find them on the F.R.H. TV page) Two of them really stuck with me. The first one I won't ruin it for you, but it's on the Intro page. For the second one, he took lyrics from "Deja Vu" and made a minute long cartoon for it. It was a little low tech, but that only added to its charm. I recorded audio of me singing the lyrics and I can't wait to see what he does with it.
That's about all for now. Expect a lot of site updates in the future...it's kind of my life now.
My muse
2010 is almost over and it's left my head swimming. Every time I've tried to process it all, I'm rendered absolutely speechless.
I was in a weird place when the year began. I was growing increasingly forlorn with my room mate and performing at open mics was my only respite. The main problem with this is, most of the time when I'm on stage, I'm talking about you.
When I was at my loneliest I met her. It happened online and we hit it off immediately. She was loving, passionate and outspoken; three words I could never have used to describe you. In typical fashion, we moved too fast and the passion burned out long before our relationship did.
We were fighting more often than not, each one of them ending with her saying I needed to go back to therapy. The stress of problems in and outside of our relationship led to it ending with a whimper on our sixth month anniversary. My family took it harder than I did.
Right after that, I got promoted and my room mate bailed on me. Suddenly, 75% of the stress in my life was gone...and I flourished.
Aside from kicking ass at work, I started making real progress on myself for the first time in my life. I started writing again, often about you.
With the knowledge and tools I obtained through my new position I began to record and experiment with my words. This led to an emotional baptism. See, writing my book two years ago allowed me to exorcise my demons, but it was the website that truly healed the wounds and opened my eyes. Both of them have echos of you on every single page.
While I am getting better at letting go, there are three things that, while extremely painful, I'm going to choose to hold onto. This is because they are important and have shaped me into the man I am. I don't want to forget how I got here, because that's how I lose myself.
Which, as always, brings me back to you. The memory of our relationship is one of the things I'm going to keep.
I used to think you were the biggest mistake of my life, but now I see you differently. I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't for our time together. It was the single most painful experience of my entire life, but I treasure every single second.
Now, when I hear you laugh right outside my office it makes me smile. I don't hate you and you're not my baggage.
You're simply...
my greatest inspiration.
I was in a weird place when the year began. I was growing increasingly forlorn with my room mate and performing at open mics was my only respite. The main problem with this is, most of the time when I'm on stage, I'm talking about you.
When I was at my loneliest I met her. It happened online and we hit it off immediately. She was loving, passionate and outspoken; three words I could never have used to describe you. In typical fashion, we moved too fast and the passion burned out long before our relationship did.
We were fighting more often than not, each one of them ending with her saying I needed to go back to therapy. The stress of problems in and outside of our relationship led to it ending with a whimper on our sixth month anniversary. My family took it harder than I did.
Right after that, I got promoted and my room mate bailed on me. Suddenly, 75% of the stress in my life was gone...and I flourished.
Aside from kicking ass at work, I started making real progress on myself for the first time in my life. I started writing again, often about you.
With the knowledge and tools I obtained through my new position I began to record and experiment with my words. This led to an emotional baptism. See, writing my book two years ago allowed me to exorcise my demons, but it was the website that truly healed the wounds and opened my eyes. Both of them have echos of you on every single page.
While I am getting better at letting go, there are three things that, while extremely painful, I'm going to choose to hold onto. This is because they are important and have shaped me into the man I am. I don't want to forget how I got here, because that's how I lose myself.
Which, as always, brings me back to you. The memory of our relationship is one of the things I'm going to keep.
I used to think you were the biggest mistake of my life, but now I see you differently. I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't for our time together. It was the single most painful experience of my entire life, but I treasure every single second.
Now, when I hear you laugh right outside my office it makes me smile. I don't hate you and you're not my baggage.
You're simply...
my greatest inspiration.
Don't judge me. This crap helps.
I had another one of those days again. Today I really wanted to talk to someone. I listened to a lot of people, but I didn't get to attain mutual commiseration. It sucks. I don't mind listening to everyone else's woes, as long as they actually ask me how I'm doing and wait for my reply.
It's getting worse. I'm starting to not feel connected to anyone, which makes me ache for it on any level I can get. I haven't been this alone in a long time. It's beginning to feel as if I'm no longer real.
I don't leave my apartment unless I have to. The phone hardly rings and when it does, it's rarely good news. I eat a lot of pizza because that's the only food a stranger will bring to my door. I take extreme measures to avoid human contact, but it's the thing I think I need the most.
Fuck.
I'm starting to see truths from my past which have alluded me for years. However, knowing the intellection of my demons doesn't make them any easier to control. Especially when you have to carry them unaided.
That's why I do this stuff.
See, writing for me isn't a hobby. It's a goddamn necessity. Without the entire process it takes to get it out I can't even function. I write down every word I never get to tell another human being.
Then I send them out into the abyss of cyberspace. A distress beacon which has, until this point, fallen upon deaf ears.
It's getting worse. I'm starting to not feel connected to anyone, which makes me ache for it on any level I can get. I haven't been this alone in a long time. It's beginning to feel as if I'm no longer real.
I don't leave my apartment unless I have to. The phone hardly rings and when it does, it's rarely good news. I eat a lot of pizza because that's the only food a stranger will bring to my door. I take extreme measures to avoid human contact, but it's the thing I think I need the most.
Fuck.
I'm starting to see truths from my past which have alluded me for years. However, knowing the intellection of my demons doesn't make them any easier to control. Especially when you have to carry them unaided.
That's why I do this stuff.
See, writing for me isn't a hobby. It's a goddamn necessity. Without the entire process it takes to get it out I can't even function. I write down every word I never get to tell another human being.
Then I send them out into the abyss of cyberspace. A distress beacon which has, until this point, fallen upon deaf ears.
And now a collection of my status messages from Facebook. With Commentary
I've been kind of lax in my posts lately, but that's because so much has been going on. I wanted to let those of you who still follow this know about them, but there's just been so much it was hard to pick where to start. I guess March is as good a place as any...
Time to invest in myself. The objective is to get 1,000 dollars in order to publish the book. (The latest, "I'm gonna make it big", scheme. Then I researched self publishing and decided against it. I did finally invest in myself, though. It just took several months to figure it out.)
Davlin Stewart wants to do the right thing. (This was something I touched upon in "This is the present I gave myself" three months later.)
The Double Down from KFC is Satan incarnate! Ten minutes after consuming it I gave birth to the anti-christ. (Seriously...it's fucking awful.)
Wow...us fanboys are a bunch of pathetic, whiny dickholes. I love it. (I read nerd message boards more than any self respecting human being rightfully should.)
After watching "Jesus Camp" and "Hell House" I finally realized the main problem I have with Christianity...it's the Christians themselves. (Speaks for itself.)
I'm completely alone. The apartment is silent. And I can't stop smiling. (This was right after my room mate ditched me and I began to see the silver lining of the situation.)
Bound to Happen-The Spill Canvas (When my girlfriend and I broke up, this song said it all.)
Just recorded my first MP3. Technology is awesome. (This was the spark that started it all.)
Ready to hit the "studio". (It was all I could think about.)
Ok, my goal this weekend is to finish one more track. Wish me luck. (I did a lot of work, none of which I was happy with.)
Watching MST3K. Thank you, Netflix. (One of my all time favorite shows.)
I hate you Assassins Creed 2. I hate you so much. (Fuck that game.)
Collect calls to home, tell them that I realize that everyone who lives will someday die and die alone.----Brand New (Not sure why this particular lyric grabbed at that moment. Still, it's a damn good line.)
I've just recorded something magical. I am in awe. (This track still gives me chills.)
I've written a few new pieces at Davlinisnotyourfriend.blogspot.com. Check it. (Hopefully, you already have.)
This is a text I just sent a friend of mine. "I know it hurts, that it's hard on both of you. But don't let them poison the love you share. I'm a goddamn woman." (There you go, Missy.)
I can't remember the last time I felt this creative. (This is when I started thinking about the website. It was a slow burn, but it eventually became an inferno.)
Just found out my 360 has a voicemail function. Now I get to hear my friend's snarky comments about me playing "The Dishwasher". (Stoopid Rory.)
I think I'm in love with Tina Fey. (I <3 you, Tina Fey.)
Last night's episode of "The Office" was one of my favorites. Insert "Michael Scott montage with Eminem's "When I'm gone" playing in the background" here. (I've all but given up hope on the series.)
Building a website is tough. (It sure was, past Davlin. But don't worry, it's all worth it in the end!)
Business cards just came in. It feels so good to see the dream take shape. (I told you so.)
After 80 hours of work, designing of the notebook is complete. The site will be up in a manner of weeks. The trailer will be up even sooner. (Oh, past Davlin. You're so naive.)
As a side project, I want to get a group of people together and write a screenplay. Anyone interested? (No one was.)
I just read a wolverine comic done by Jhonen Vasquez...awesome. (Pure fanboy bliss.)
Tonight I listened to "Good Man" by Brand New. It made me think of you. (Inspiration!)
150 hours and the notebook is officially complete. It is the single most beautiful thing I've ever done. (It was two hundred hours for the entire site.)
"Blankets" by Craig Thompson=sheer brilliance (Just a graphic novel I stumbled upon and deserves to be read.)
The site is now live. (And it is GLORIOUS.)
Oh self publishing company who still sends me emails, how I laugh at you. (I did invest in myself, just in my own way.)
Just took dad to see the new Harry Potter flick for his birthday. He also told me he was proud of me. So, yeah...pretty good day. (Which I've previously blogged about.)
God, I love Brand New. (I really, really do.)
After a little over a week my site has gotten just at 80 hits. Not too bad. I mean, it's not great, but it's a start. However, the daily user activity report is mildly disheartening. (Cue the violin.)
Open Mic at Mokah Coffee Bar! (It was a fantastic show.)
Today a co-worker told me I was the coolest white boy he's ever known. It was one of the 5 proudest moments of my life. (I still smile thinking about this.)
Working on a potential article for www.Scary-Crayon.com. It's given me a justifiable reason to play with my action figures again. My inner child smiles. (I've been following the site for years, it's been an honor chatting with the creator, Wes.)
Dear Hollywood, I just read the "Deadpool" script review. You've screwed me over so many times in the past. Now, I'm begging you, please make this movie. Hoping you still have a soul, Davlin (I tried to blog about this, but every time I'd try, I'd black out from the white hot rage.)
Been home about half an hour and I still can't stop thinking about my class. The only thing I'd like to be besides a writer is a teacher. It's funny how things work out. (Which brings us to the now.)
Well, that's been the last few months brought to you by Facebook.
Time to invest in myself. The objective is to get 1,000 dollars in order to publish the book. (The latest, "I'm gonna make it big", scheme. Then I researched self publishing and decided against it. I did finally invest in myself, though. It just took several months to figure it out.)
Davlin Stewart wants to do the right thing. (This was something I touched upon in "This is the present I gave myself" three months later.)
The Double Down from KFC is Satan incarnate! Ten minutes after consuming it I gave birth to the anti-christ. (Seriously...it's fucking awful.)
Wow...us fanboys are a bunch of pathetic, whiny dickholes. I love it. (I read nerd message boards more than any self respecting human being rightfully should.)
After watching "Jesus Camp" and "Hell House" I finally realized the main problem I have with Christianity...it's the Christians themselves. (Speaks for itself.)
I'm completely alone. The apartment is silent. And I can't stop smiling. (This was right after my room mate ditched me and I began to see the silver lining of the situation.)
Bound to Happen-The Spill Canvas (When my girlfriend and I broke up, this song said it all.)
Just recorded my first MP3. Technology is awesome. (This was the spark that started it all.)
Ready to hit the "studio". (It was all I could think about.)
Ok, my goal this weekend is to finish one more track. Wish me luck. (I did a lot of work, none of which I was happy with.)
Watching MST3K. Thank you, Netflix. (One of my all time favorite shows.)
I hate you Assassins Creed 2. I hate you so much. (Fuck that game.)
Collect calls to home, tell them that I realize that everyone who lives will someday die and die alone.----Brand New (Not sure why this particular lyric grabbed at that moment. Still, it's a damn good line.)
I've just recorded something magical. I am in awe. (This track still gives me chills.)
I've written a few new pieces at Davlinisnotyourfriend.blogspot.com. Check it. (Hopefully, you already have.)
This is a text I just sent a friend of mine. "I know it hurts, that it's hard on both of you. But don't let them poison the love you share. I'm a goddamn woman." (There you go, Missy.)
I can't remember the last time I felt this creative. (This is when I started thinking about the website. It was a slow burn, but it eventually became an inferno.)
Just found out my 360 has a voicemail function. Now I get to hear my friend's snarky comments about me playing "The Dishwasher". (Stoopid Rory.)
I think I'm in love with Tina Fey. (I <3 you, Tina Fey.)
Last night's episode of "The Office" was one of my favorites. Insert "Michael Scott montage with Eminem's "When I'm gone" playing in the background" here. (I've all but given up hope on the series.)
Building a website is tough. (It sure was, past Davlin. But don't worry, it's all worth it in the end!)
Business cards just came in. It feels so good to see the dream take shape. (I told you so.)
After 80 hours of work, designing of the notebook is complete. The site will be up in a manner of weeks. The trailer will be up even sooner. (Oh, past Davlin. You're so naive.)
As a side project, I want to get a group of people together and write a screenplay. Anyone interested? (No one was.)
I just read a wolverine comic done by Jhonen Vasquez...awesome. (Pure fanboy bliss.)
Tonight I listened to "Good Man" by Brand New. It made me think of you. (Inspiration!)
150 hours and the notebook is officially complete. It is the single most beautiful thing I've ever done. (It was two hundred hours for the entire site.)
"Blankets" by Craig Thompson=sheer brilliance (Just a graphic novel I stumbled upon and deserves to be read.)
The site is now live. (And it is GLORIOUS.)
Oh self publishing company who still sends me emails, how I laugh at you. (I did invest in myself, just in my own way.)
Just took dad to see the new Harry Potter flick for his birthday. He also told me he was proud of me. So, yeah...pretty good day. (Which I've previously blogged about.)
God, I love Brand New. (I really, really do.)
After a little over a week my site has gotten just at 80 hits. Not too bad. I mean, it's not great, but it's a start. However, the daily user activity report is mildly disheartening. (Cue the violin.)
Open Mic at Mokah Coffee Bar! (It was a fantastic show.)
Today a co-worker told me I was the coolest white boy he's ever known. It was one of the 5 proudest moments of my life. (I still smile thinking about this.)
Working on a potential article for www.Scary-Crayon.com. It's given me a justifiable reason to play with my action figures again. My inner child smiles. (I've been following the site for years, it's been an honor chatting with the creator, Wes.)
Dear Hollywood, I just read the "Deadpool" script review. You've screwed me over so many times in the past. Now, I'm begging you, please make this movie. Hoping you still have a soul, Davlin (I tried to blog about this, but every time I'd try, I'd black out from the white hot rage.)
Been home about half an hour and I still can't stop thinking about my class. The only thing I'd like to be besides a writer is a teacher. It's funny how things work out. (Which brings us to the now.)
Well, that's been the last few months brought to you by Facebook.
My favorite memory of her.
It was a few years ago, when our relationship was still fresh.
I had fallen on rough financial times and my power was cut off. I took it pretty hard. She was supposed to come over the night I found out, so I called her up and tried to reschedule. She asked me why and I refused to lie to her. I told her how ashamed I was at not being able to pay my own bills, quite horribly depressed and didn't want her to see me in such a state.
"It doesn't matter to me. I'm on my way over."
When she arrived it was after dark and my apartment was illuminated by candlelight. I was crestfallen.
She tried her hardest to bring me out of it.
"You're not a failure, jeez."
"Everybody struggles sometimes."
"I still like you"
Anyone who's ever dealt with me when I'm depressed knows how unresponsive I can be and the feelings of utter frustration that particular trait can instill.
"C'mon," she said, this time much less enthusiastically," what do you want to do?"
My eyes quickly surveyed my surroundings. Almost every single thing we usually did together required electricity. Then, I remembered our outing to Borders two nights prior when I had purchased a novel sized pop up book authored by Stephen King.
I looked at her with the most genuine smile I could muster, "I could read to you by candlelight."
"Ok." She said as she smiled back. It was one of the only times I've seen her eyes and lips smile in concert.
So, I removed the plastic from the tome and began. As I read, I'd change my voice to fit the characters and pull levers which brought the pages to life. She sat and listened untilI turned the last one and brought the story to its end.
During the entire course of our intimate, calamitous relationship, this is the only moment I think we truly shared. I also think I enjoyed it way more than she did.
I had fallen on rough financial times and my power was cut off. I took it pretty hard. She was supposed to come over the night I found out, so I called her up and tried to reschedule. She asked me why and I refused to lie to her. I told her how ashamed I was at not being able to pay my own bills, quite horribly depressed and didn't want her to see me in such a state.
"It doesn't matter to me. I'm on my way over."
When she arrived it was after dark and my apartment was illuminated by candlelight. I was crestfallen.
She tried her hardest to bring me out of it.
"You're not a failure, jeez."
"Everybody struggles sometimes."
"I still like you"
Anyone who's ever dealt with me when I'm depressed knows how unresponsive I can be and the feelings of utter frustration that particular trait can instill.
"C'mon," she said, this time much less enthusiastically," what do you want to do?"
My eyes quickly surveyed my surroundings. Almost every single thing we usually did together required electricity. Then, I remembered our outing to Borders two nights prior when I had purchased a novel sized pop up book authored by Stephen King.
I looked at her with the most genuine smile I could muster, "I could read to you by candlelight."
"Ok." She said as she smiled back. It was one of the only times I've seen her eyes and lips smile in concert.
So, I removed the plastic from the tome and began. As I read, I'd change my voice to fit the characters and pull levers which brought the pages to life. She sat and listened untilI turned the last one and brought the story to its end.
During the entire course of our intimate, calamitous relationship, this is the only moment I think we truly shared. I also think I enjoyed it way more than she did.
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