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.
Yes! In yo' fa-waitaminute...shit.
I realized today my erratic bouts of depression aren't for attention, as I've sometimes wondered. No, in the heat of the moment, I hate the stares and whispers.
Which can only mean they're real.
So, um, yay?
Which can only mean they're real.
So, um, yay?
Stream of consciousness
At 8:30, the alarm goes off. I fight with the snooze button for a half hour before my brain decides to finally fire up. I rub my burning eyes and try to string enough words together to form a single, cohesive thought.
Stayed up till 3 watching a Bill Hicks dvd, because I couldn't tear myself away.
Slept on the couch because sleeping on my bed with all it's emptiness is more than I can take lately.
And now, time to get up.
I step into the kitchen and make my single cup of coffee, which accompanies me into the bathroom. I still can't figure out my shower, so I bathe under sporadic bursts of luke warm and biting cold. You see, I can't feel right until I've had a blistering hot shower, so I've started every day since September off on the wrong foot.
I listen to my music as I brush my teeth and suit up. While singing along to "Survive" by Rise Against I examine myself in the mirror. I'm wearing a long sleeve, white thermal shirt, black jeans, white and black tennis shoes, black suit jacket and, of course, the fedora. I deem this acceptable and head out.
It's dad's birthday tomorrow so I told him I'd take him to see the new Harry Potter flick today. When I get to his place he hands me the newest pictures of my little brothers. It makes my heart ache. I place them carefully in the breast pocket of my jacket and we head to the theater.
I have an amazing time. We talk easily, not about anything serious, but it doesn't matter. I'm simply clowning around with my dad. It's like those old days I miss more than anything else. He feels like my dad, again.
The movie is also phenomenal.
After it's over, he goes to the bathroom and I venture outside to smoke. I see this girl sitting by herself who's checking her phone while people watching. Our eyes meet and after that, I could swear I see her staring in my direction a couple times. When dad finishes up we start heading to his car.
She's about ten steps ahead of us when I reach into my jacket and pull out one of my business cards. Right before we pass I hand it to her and say, "You look like you need this. Check it out sometime."
When we're a decent enough distance away my dad asks, "So you only give them to goth girls?"
"Market research says they're my demo." We both chuckle a bit.
When I sit down in the car, as I buckle my seat belt I ask, "Do want to know the real reason I gave her my card?"
"Sure."
"She was the only one I saw who was alone. I know what that's like and I don't think anyone should ever have to feel that way." On the way back to the house we talk about religion and it is glorious.
As soon as we arrive, we meet up with my aunt and cousins and go out to eat together. I love my family, but I don't know how to act around them; I feel uncomfortable and I don't know why. Dad tells a story about how my youngest brother (Casey, 4) says I'm not his brother because I never come to see him. My chest goes numb.
Flash forward an hour or so and I hug my dad goodbye. The two and a half day funk I'd been dragging out evaporates in the beauty of the moment.
Back at the apartment I pull up my site and discover I have a new comment. It's from my dad, which reads:
"Ben, I'm very happy you finally found a way to express your voice. I'm proud of you."
Then I go to facebook and am greeted by a friend request from the girl at the theater. "This should be interesting", I think to myself as I click confirm.
Stayed up till 3 watching a Bill Hicks dvd, because I couldn't tear myself away.
Slept on the couch because sleeping on my bed with all it's emptiness is more than I can take lately.
And now, time to get up.
I step into the kitchen and make my single cup of coffee, which accompanies me into the bathroom. I still can't figure out my shower, so I bathe under sporadic bursts of luke warm and biting cold. You see, I can't feel right until I've had a blistering hot shower, so I've started every day since September off on the wrong foot.
I listen to my music as I brush my teeth and suit up. While singing along to "Survive" by Rise Against I examine myself in the mirror. I'm wearing a long sleeve, white thermal shirt, black jeans, white and black tennis shoes, black suit jacket and, of course, the fedora. I deem this acceptable and head out.
It's dad's birthday tomorrow so I told him I'd take him to see the new Harry Potter flick today. When I get to his place he hands me the newest pictures of my little brothers. It makes my heart ache. I place them carefully in the breast pocket of my jacket and we head to the theater.
I have an amazing time. We talk easily, not about anything serious, but it doesn't matter. I'm simply clowning around with my dad. It's like those old days I miss more than anything else. He feels like my dad, again.
The movie is also phenomenal.
After it's over, he goes to the bathroom and I venture outside to smoke. I see this girl sitting by herself who's checking her phone while people watching. Our eyes meet and after that, I could swear I see her staring in my direction a couple times. When dad finishes up we start heading to his car.
She's about ten steps ahead of us when I reach into my jacket and pull out one of my business cards. Right before we pass I hand it to her and say, "You look like you need this. Check it out sometime."
When we're a decent enough distance away my dad asks, "So you only give them to goth girls?"
"Market research says they're my demo." We both chuckle a bit.
When I sit down in the car, as I buckle my seat belt I ask, "Do want to know the real reason I gave her my card?"
"Sure."
"She was the only one I saw who was alone. I know what that's like and I don't think anyone should ever have to feel that way." On the way back to the house we talk about religion and it is glorious.
As soon as we arrive, we meet up with my aunt and cousins and go out to eat together. I love my family, but I don't know how to act around them; I feel uncomfortable and I don't know why. Dad tells a story about how my youngest brother (Casey, 4) says I'm not his brother because I never come to see him. My chest goes numb.
Flash forward an hour or so and I hug my dad goodbye. The two and a half day funk I'd been dragging out evaporates in the beauty of the moment.
Back at the apartment I pull up my site and discover I have a new comment. It's from my dad, which reads:
"Ben, I'm very happy you finally found a way to express your voice. I'm proud of you."
Then I go to facebook and am greeted by a friend request from the girl at the theater. "This should be interesting", I think to myself as I click confirm.
It took 200 hours of work, but it's done.
The website is now live.
www.bledoutontoapage.com
Check it.
www.bledoutontoapage.com
Check it.
Life isn't fair...
It's a phrase I've heard and spoke my entire life. It's usually been done during those really dire times where I wanted to rip my heart from my chest and squeeze out its final beat.
See, as long as I can remember, I've only focused on the really heinous shit that happened to me. I became comfortable playing the victim and "life isn't fair" became my mantra.
But I don't want to be that way anymore. It doesn't get you anywhere. Of course life is going to suck if all you look at is the sucky parts. It's all about your outlook. If you can learn to see past all the negativity, you'll see how much the world has to offer once you stop holding yourself back.
Life is fair, you just have to grow up and learn to take the bad with the good.
See, as long as I can remember, I've only focused on the really heinous shit that happened to me. I became comfortable playing the victim and "life isn't fair" became my mantra.
But I don't want to be that way anymore. It doesn't get you anywhere. Of course life is going to suck if all you look at is the sucky parts. It's all about your outlook. If you can learn to see past all the negativity, you'll see how much the world has to offer once you stop holding yourself back.
Life is fair, you just have to grow up and learn to take the bad with the good.
The Lost Songs 1: Best Of Luck
When I moved into my new apartment I found all my journals which had my earliest writings. Some of these have held up pretty well, others not so much. I wrote this one when I was 20. Enjoy!
Best Of Luck
You said,
"Ben let's take a walk,
There's a lot goin' on,
I think we need to have a talk."
So we come,
To a bench in the park,
That overlooks the lake,
Ben here before but now,
Your lips quiver and your hands start to shake.
As you tell me it's over...
But you still wanna be friends.
Chorus:
Well best of luck to you,
In everything you do.
And for what it's worth,
I hope you find what you're looking for.
So you'll go your way,
and I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself everyday,
By sayin' that I'm fine.
End Chorus:
Is it worth it,
tryin to be your friend?
Or should I just count my losses,
And allow these wounds to mend?
I won't be blown off,
or sit through anymore of your lies.
I won't stick around,
as you start dating other guys.
Chorus: 1x
Pain gets worse,
as weeks and months go by.
The more I think about it,
I just wish that you would die.
Cos you can't hurt me,
if you don't exist.
Fuck it, it doesn't matter,
I'm over it.
Chorus: 1x
End Song.
Best Of Luck
You said,
"Ben let's take a walk,
There's a lot goin' on,
I think we need to have a talk."
So we come,
To a bench in the park,
That overlooks the lake,
Ben here before but now,
Your lips quiver and your hands start to shake.
As you tell me it's over...
But you still wanna be friends.
Chorus:
Well best of luck to you,
In everything you do.
And for what it's worth,
I hope you find what you're looking for.
So you'll go your way,
and I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself everyday,
By sayin' that I'm fine.
End Chorus:
Is it worth it,
tryin to be your friend?
Or should I just count my losses,
And allow these wounds to mend?
I won't be blown off,
or sit through anymore of your lies.
I won't stick around,
as you start dating other guys.
Chorus: 1x
Pain gets worse,
as weeks and months go by.
The more I think about it,
I just wish that you would die.
Cos you can't hurt me,
if you don't exist.
Fuck it, it doesn't matter,
I'm over it.
Chorus: 1x
End Song.
The Last Song
The Last Song
As I look back,
at the city I’ve left-behind.
A year ago,
Our fingers were intertwined.
You used to look at me,
With love in your eyes.
Now I watch the life I’d led,
As it withers and dies.
Hopefully I’m movin onto,
bigger and better things.
And when I come back,
you won’t even recognize me.
Chorus 1:
But I believe it’s gotta get worse,
before it gets better.
There’s gotta be a rainstorm,
before the sunny weather.
I’ve grown up,
seen the error of my ways.
I’ve moved on,
while mourning the loss of the good ol’ days.
But there’s no point,
Stressing over things,
that you can’t change.
End Chorus 1:
I gained a scar,
for every lesson I have learned.
A trail of black smoke,
emits from all the bridges I have burned.
I'm on a bus headin,
For the east coast.
When I arrive I’ll raise my glass,
To those I’ll miss the most.
But any chance of a decent future,
Is fadin fast.
Unless of course I can,
Finally bid farewell to my past.
Chorus 1x:
I walk alone now,
got nowhere to call my home now.
If given the chance would I,
have thrown this all away?
Cuz I’m lost,
and I’m confused.
I’ve been emotionally abused,
and I will fight this to the death,
because I’ve got nothing left to lose.
So this is gonna be,
the last song,
I’ll ever write about you.
Just keep me in your prayers,
cuz mine don’t seem to be getting through,
getting through.
End.
As I look back,
at the city I’ve left-behind.
A year ago,
Our fingers were intertwined.
You used to look at me,
With love in your eyes.
Now I watch the life I’d led,
As it withers and dies.
Hopefully I’m movin onto,
bigger and better things.
And when I come back,
you won’t even recognize me.
Chorus 1:
But I believe it’s gotta get worse,
before it gets better.
There’s gotta be a rainstorm,
before the sunny weather.
I’ve grown up,
seen the error of my ways.
I’ve moved on,
while mourning the loss of the good ol’ days.
But there’s no point,
Stressing over things,
that you can’t change.
End Chorus 1:
I gained a scar,
for every lesson I have learned.
A trail of black smoke,
emits from all the bridges I have burned.
I'm on a bus headin,
For the east coast.
When I arrive I’ll raise my glass,
To those I’ll miss the most.
But any chance of a decent future,
Is fadin fast.
Unless of course I can,
Finally bid farewell to my past.
Chorus 1x:
I walk alone now,
got nowhere to call my home now.
If given the chance would I,
have thrown this all away?
Cuz I’m lost,
and I’m confused.
I’ve been emotionally abused,
and I will fight this to the death,
because I’ve got nothing left to lose.
So this is gonna be,
the last song,
I’ll ever write about you.
Just keep me in your prayers,
cuz mine don’t seem to be getting through,
getting through.
End.
A question for the dedicated readers.
Of all the pieces I have accumulatated in this blog, which ones would you like to see make the Scattered Thoughts spoken word album?
I'd love any feedback you may have. Drop me an email, or sound off in the comments.
I'd love any feedback you may have. Drop me an email, or sound off in the comments.
Another Stewart Family Memory
It was the Fourth of July.
Packed in a van with my father, step mother, two younger brothers and now ex-girlfriend on our way to my grandfather's to shoot off some fireworks. Alex, the elder of the two, was sitting in the back with my girlfriend. While staring out the window, I heard him tell her this.
Alex: Did you know Brother Ben used to be crazy? But that was a long time ago. He's better now. But he used to be crazy.
He's six years old.
Packed in a van with my father, step mother, two younger brothers and now ex-girlfriend on our way to my grandfather's to shoot off some fireworks. Alex, the elder of the two, was sitting in the back with my girlfriend. While staring out the window, I heard him tell her this.
Alex: Did you know Brother Ben used to be crazy? But that was a long time ago. He's better now. But he used to be crazy.
He's six years old.
This is fucked up and I don't know why I wrote it.
Your heart skipped a beat when we,
first connected at the hips.
But I'll only love you skin deep,
then throw your husk on a pyre made of regrets.
first connected at the hips.
But I'll only love you skin deep,
then throw your husk on a pyre made of regrets.
This is a text message I just sent a friend.
"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."
I swear to God, this one's positive.
Did you ever have one of those days?
You know the kind I'm talking about. It hits you before you even open your eyes..."This day's gonna suck". And that's the attitude you carry with you all day long. Everything just goes wrong and makes you want to curl up and cry. But you still try your hardest. It's not the best game face you could have, but at least you're making an effort. Eventually, you go from trying to be at least somewhat productive to just riding out the clock. You go past the point of being upset to just siting in bemused acceptance, eager to see just what could happen next.
Anyway, that's the kind of day I had today. By the end of it, I was so stressed I was calm. If you've ever experienced this, you know how unsettling it is. I got a jump for my car (Oh, yeah, my battery died while I was going to get lunch for management), put on one of my favorite shamelessly emo bands and sang my heart out all the way home. It helped.
When I arrived at my apartment, I was finally able to sit down and breathe. I decided not to let my previous negativity make the day be a complete waste by getting something positive done tonight. I re-read what I had written the night before. Then, I read it aloud and it sounded good. Unfortunately, I didn't have the mic with me. I started going through all my options and decided to try recording it through my MP3 player. I knew the quality would be awful, but at least I'd be able to listen to it immediately.
So, I hit recorded and laid it down. It felt amazing. I've listened to it 20 times. (that's how I rehearse) It's terribly raw, what with the stumbling of some words and the mic distorting my vocals when I get too into it, but it shows a lot of potential. I'm getting somewhere with this.
I started looking back at all the events of the day. I saw something I didn't see before when I was too wrapped up in myself, all the kind gestures from those I work with. I am so grateful to all the people who put up with me today. I also realized something vital...
An attitude can really fuck up your day.
You know the kind I'm talking about. It hits you before you even open your eyes..."This day's gonna suck". And that's the attitude you carry with you all day long. Everything just goes wrong and makes you want to curl up and cry. But you still try your hardest. It's not the best game face you could have, but at least you're making an effort. Eventually, you go from trying to be at least somewhat productive to just riding out the clock. You go past the point of being upset to just siting in bemused acceptance, eager to see just what could happen next.
Anyway, that's the kind of day I had today. By the end of it, I was so stressed I was calm. If you've ever experienced this, you know how unsettling it is. I got a jump for my car (Oh, yeah, my battery died while I was going to get lunch for management), put on one of my favorite shamelessly emo bands and sang my heart out all the way home. It helped.
When I arrived at my apartment, I was finally able to sit down and breathe. I decided not to let my previous negativity make the day be a complete waste by getting something positive done tonight. I re-read what I had written the night before. Then, I read it aloud and it sounded good. Unfortunately, I didn't have the mic with me. I started going through all my options and decided to try recording it through my MP3 player. I knew the quality would be awful, but at least I'd be able to listen to it immediately.
So, I hit recorded and laid it down. It felt amazing. I've listened to it 20 times. (that's how I rehearse) It's terribly raw, what with the stumbling of some words and the mic distorting my vocals when I get too into it, but it shows a lot of potential. I'm getting somewhere with this.
I started looking back at all the events of the day. I saw something I didn't see before when I was too wrapped up in myself, all the kind gestures from those I work with. I am so grateful to all the people who put up with me today. I also realized something vital...
An attitude can really fuck up your day.
Expulsion
I can't keep going on like this. It has to stop. I guess it's time to finally let it all go. I go into the bathroom and strip down, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. I step into the bathtub and close the curtain behind me. This is going to get messy.
I sit down in the tub, clutching my knees to my chest. With my eyes closed I focus hard on everything that's been building up inside me. From the cruelty of the schoolyard, the reciprocated disappointment between my family and I, the laughter, love, broken hearts and repressed memories; I remember it all. I let each feeling pass through me. Then, I start to push. It starts out like always, with the tremors coursing through by body, then the tears.
But this time, it's different.
I can feel a trail burning from my eyes all the way down my cheeks. The tears sizzle when they meet flesh and porcelain. I look down and see a puddle forming in the tub, it's black and thick like oil. It's a start.
I zero in on the memories and push harder. The inky fluids trickle from every pore and scorch my skin before congealing in the tub. Take it all, leave nothing behind. I don't want it anymore.
Goddamn, this really hurts.
I can feel a knot starting to swell behind my ribcage. The pressure reaches its crescendo as the sharp, deafening crack of my sternum reverberates off the porcelain around me. All I can do is gasp as my chest explodes outwards, smearing black and red all over the the walls. I had always wondered what a soul looked like. It's gross.
I reach a hand into the gaping hole that was once my torso. It doesn't hurt anymore...I've nothing left to feel.
I now have a couple of options. I could choose to fill the breach with new, positive feelings until that's all I have to focus on. But I'm going to go the safer route. I seal the hole with bricks and mortar, so nothing else will ever be allowed in again.
There, I feel better already.
I sit down in the tub, clutching my knees to my chest. With my eyes closed I focus hard on everything that's been building up inside me. From the cruelty of the schoolyard, the reciprocated disappointment between my family and I, the laughter, love, broken hearts and repressed memories; I remember it all. I let each feeling pass through me. Then, I start to push. It starts out like always, with the tremors coursing through by body, then the tears.
But this time, it's different.
I can feel a trail burning from my eyes all the way down my cheeks. The tears sizzle when they meet flesh and porcelain. I look down and see a puddle forming in the tub, it's black and thick like oil. It's a start.
I zero in on the memories and push harder. The inky fluids trickle from every pore and scorch my skin before congealing in the tub. Take it all, leave nothing behind. I don't want it anymore.
Goddamn, this really hurts.
I can feel a knot starting to swell behind my ribcage. The pressure reaches its crescendo as the sharp, deafening crack of my sternum reverberates off the porcelain around me. All I can do is gasp as my chest explodes outwards, smearing black and red all over the the walls. I had always wondered what a soul looked like. It's gross.
I reach a hand into the gaping hole that was once my torso. It doesn't hurt anymore...I've nothing left to feel.
I now have a couple of options. I could choose to fill the breach with new, positive feelings until that's all I have to focus on. But I'm going to go the safer route. I seal the hole with bricks and mortar, so nothing else will ever be allowed in again.
There, I feel better already.
Content
Tonight I came home and finally beat Mass Effect Two. I cooked myself dinner in my own kitchen. I did a little recording in my living room. Right now, I'm crashed out on the couch watching MST3K. There's no one else around and I can do whatever I want. So, yeah. Pretty good Friday night.
The first Scattered Thoughts MP3
I've just recorded a performance of "Wake Up Call". If you want the free MP3, just let me know.
Communique
She once told me she didn't think anyone really knew who I was, at least not the true me. This was during one of my episodes where she was trying so desperately to understand, but wasn't listening. I'm starting to think she's right. But how much of this is due to my holding back and how much to people never fully listening to what it is I have to say?
People only hear what they want to. I can't tell you how many times I've told someone something,only to have to repeat it again 30 seconds later. It makes me wonder if they're only half listening, or maybe I'm just that bad at communicating with others. It's frustrating.
What's worse, is when people talk to me...I actually listen. I can tell you just about everything there is to know about the people in my life. Now, how many people could truly say the same about me and get it right? Kind of makes me feel like I'm all alone, even when I'm surrounded by those that are supposed to know me best.
People only hear what they want to. I can't tell you how many times I've told someone something,only to have to repeat it again 30 seconds later. It makes me wonder if they're only half listening, or maybe I'm just that bad at communicating with others. It's frustrating.
What's worse, is when people talk to me...I actually listen. I can tell you just about everything there is to know about the people in my life. Now, how many people could truly say the same about me and get it right? Kind of makes me feel like I'm all alone, even when I'm surrounded by those that are supposed to know me best.
Dreams
I dreamt about her again last night.
It used to bother me, but it doesn't anymore. The only thing I remember about it was taking her into my arms and the sound of her voice as our eyes met. I liked the dream, but that's only because it wasn't real.
See, when I dream about her, I dream about the person I thought she was or wanted her to be. The reality of her is always much more disappointing.
In the dream, her embrace was warm, inviting, not cold and empty like it was all the times we physically held each other. Her voice was soothing and it filled me with a feeling her lackadaisical one could never conjure in the waking world. I could stare into her counterfeit's eyes forever, never even scratching the surface of the secrets hidden deep within. On this plane, however, they were simply hollow.
I've come to grips with the fact that I have to see her every day. The thing is, though, since it's impossible to forget her, I've decided I want to remember her how I always liked her best; the way she is when she comes to me in my dreams.
It used to bother me, but it doesn't anymore. The only thing I remember about it was taking her into my arms and the sound of her voice as our eyes met. I liked the dream, but that's only because it wasn't real.
See, when I dream about her, I dream about the person I thought she was or wanted her to be. The reality of her is always much more disappointing.
In the dream, her embrace was warm, inviting, not cold and empty like it was all the times we physically held each other. Her voice was soothing and it filled me with a feeling her lackadaisical one could never conjure in the waking world. I could stare into her counterfeit's eyes forever, never even scratching the surface of the secrets hidden deep within. On this plane, however, they were simply hollow.
I've come to grips with the fact that I have to see her every day. The thing is, though, since it's impossible to forget her, I've decided I want to remember her how I always liked her best; the way she is when she comes to me in my dreams.
Pictures
I hate taking pictures. I've spent the majority of my adult life trying to get over the past and move on. The last thing I need lying around are visual remnants of memories to remind me. It never fails, whether I'm going through my phone or cleaning out a drawer, the perfect picture pops up at the most inopportune time.
An Examination of Some of the Recent Comments I Have Received
My blog has been visited by a strange phenomenon. More on that in a second. First, there's something you should know.
I take my comments very seriously. You have no idea how great it feels to find an honest comment about something I've written. It doesn't happen very often, and it's usually only a select few (I love you all, dearly), but when it does...it makes my fucking day.
But lately, I've been getting some unusual ones. It started out perplexing enough.
12/30/09
Entry: "Great Moment on OK Cupid 3"
Comment: hello........................................-by 愉悅.
Now, this brings up some questions. Who is this 愉悅? Why did he follow his hello with a link to a porn site in his/her many ellipses? Very odd. Maybe just a very excited fan.
2/16/10
Entry: "Just a Taste"
Comment: 很用心的blog,推推哦 ........................................ -by 皮東
Why, yes, 皮東. It is a blog. Good for you.
3/09/10
Entry: "Harbinger Ch. 10: We interrupt this broadcast"
Comment: 變天了~~注意身體，別感冒囉！ ........................................-by 天天影片
Really? You're writing in hieroglyphics now? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?
4/03/10
Entry: "Following Footsteps?"
Comment: your artical is so funny!! it make me so happy!!........................................-by 雅惠
Now I'm starting to get creeped out. This particular "artical" was not so funny. Not even a little bit. I know it's just a spammer, but it's fucking with my head a little bit. Why are there so many ellipsis? Is the porn site really that big?
And it never stops.
Beauty, unaccompanied by virtue, is as a flower without perfume...................................................
(They're getting classier now)
Virtue dwells not in the tongue but in the heart. ............................................................
(I kind of liked that one)
It takes all kinds to make a world.............................................................
(It takes dif'rent strokes, it takes dif'rent strokes to rule the world)
the best as always thanks............................................................
(My ego still allowed me to enjoy this one)
But I'll leave you with the last one I received. The post this one was left on was my latest self pitying diatribe. (I'm better now! The joys of being manic!) In this post I said that I'd take a break from writing and didn't want to share what was going on in my head anymore. This is what 韋以韋以 had to say about that.
GOOD IDEA~thanks............................................................
Mr. 韋以韋以, you're a right prick, but I've gotta give that one to you. Well played, sir. Well played.
I take my comments very seriously. You have no idea how great it feels to find an honest comment about something I've written. It doesn't happen very often, and it's usually only a select few (I love you all, dearly), but when it does...it makes my fucking day.
But lately, I've been getting some unusual ones. It started out perplexing enough.
12/30/09
Entry: "Great Moment on OK Cupid 3"
Comment: hello........................................-by 愉悅.
Now, this brings up some questions. Who is this 愉悅? Why did he follow his hello with a link to a porn site in his/her many ellipses? Very odd. Maybe just a very excited fan.
2/16/10
Entry: "Just a Taste"
Comment: 很用心的blog,推推哦 ........................................ -by 皮東
Why, yes, 皮東. It is a blog. Good for you.
3/09/10
Entry: "Harbinger Ch. 10: We interrupt this broadcast"
Comment: 變天了~~注意身體，別感冒囉！ ........................................-by 天天影片
Really? You're writing in hieroglyphics now? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?
4/03/10
Entry: "Following Footsteps?"
Comment: your artical is so funny!! it make me so happy!!........................................-by 雅惠
Now I'm starting to get creeped out. This particular "artical" was not so funny. Not even a little bit. I know it's just a spammer, but it's fucking with my head a little bit. Why are there so many ellipsis? Is the porn site really that big?
And it never stops.
Beauty, unaccompanied by virtue, is as a flower without perfume...................................................
(They're getting classier now)
Virtue dwells not in the tongue but in the heart. ............................................................
(I kind of liked that one)
It takes all kinds to make a world.............................................................
(It takes dif'rent strokes, it takes dif'rent strokes to rule the world)
the best as always thanks............................................................
(My ego still allowed me to enjoy this one)
But I'll leave you with the last one I received. The post this one was left on was my latest self pitying diatribe. (I'm better now! The joys of being manic!) In this post I said that I'd take a break from writing and didn't want to share what was going on in my head anymore. This is what 韋以韋以 had to say about that.
GOOD IDEA~thanks............................................................
Mr. 韋以韋以, you're a right prick, but I've gotta give that one to you. Well played, sir. Well played.
I'm Now Getting Over Self Pity 37% Faster!
My apartment is so quiet now.
Sometimes, I like to turn everything off, close my eyes and listen to the cacophony of the world outside.
It's filled with an unending wail of sirens, people screaming and the occasional gunshot.
It almost sounds like the world is ending.
And it makes me wonder how long it'd take me to notice if it did.
Sometimes, I like to turn everything off, close my eyes and listen to the cacophony of the world outside.
It's filled with an unending wail of sirens, people screaming and the occasional gunshot.
It almost sounds like the world is ending.
And it makes me wonder how long it'd take me to notice if it did.
This is the present I gave to myself.
A couple of years ago, my ex-girlfriend gave me genital herpes and it put me in the mental hospital. There. I fucking said it.
Back in spring, I learned she had been with another guy for an entire year, she still hadn't told him she was a carrier AND they had unprotected sex. I didn't care that she was with another guy, but I couldn't let the fact that he didn't know go. It just wasn't right. So, I made a fake facebook page, with a name that would let her know it was me without actually saying so, and told him everything. She convinced him that it was a lie and they now live together.
I tried my best to save him.
In the last 36 hours my room mate not only managed to royally fuck me over, but also drop out of our lease agreement a mere three months from when it was up and two weeks before the first of the month. I was so close.
This morning, his girlfriend came to me and asked me if I thought she could trust him. I then proceeded to tell her everything. I also told her that she could do better, she deseved better than him. Right now they're both sitting on the couch watching a movie together. She didn't listen either.
I'm sick of trying to save people.
But, here's the thing. I've got one more secret to tell and it's a motherfucker. The retaliation of which could probably ruin me, if done right. But it still needs to be told, because it involves the safety of a small child. So, what do you say?
Should I try and save one more?
Also, yesterday was my birthday and another ex-girlfriend of mine wasn't there. I did everything we had planned together, alone.
And that makes me sad.
Back in spring, I learned she had been with another guy for an entire year, she still hadn't told him she was a carrier AND they had unprotected sex. I didn't care that she was with another guy, but I couldn't let the fact that he didn't know go. It just wasn't right. So, I made a fake facebook page, with a name that would let her know it was me without actually saying so, and told him everything. She convinced him that it was a lie and they now live together.
I tried my best to save him.
In the last 36 hours my room mate not only managed to royally fuck me over, but also drop out of our lease agreement a mere three months from when it was up and two weeks before the first of the month. I was so close.
This morning, his girlfriend came to me and asked me if I thought she could trust him. I then proceeded to tell her everything. I also told her that she could do better, she deseved better than him. Right now they're both sitting on the couch watching a movie together. She didn't listen either.
I'm sick of trying to save people.
But, here's the thing. I've got one more secret to tell and it's a motherfucker. The retaliation of which could probably ruin me, if done right. But it still needs to be told, because it involves the safety of a small child. So, what do you say?
Should I try and save one more?
Also, yesterday was my birthday and another ex-girlfriend of mine wasn't there. I did everything we had planned together, alone.
And that makes me sad.
Just something I had in my head, will try to finish later...
In honor of Eminem's new album, Recovery, I wanted to try and write a rap. This is just the rough cut.
I can feel it building up again,
This smile I wear, my facade, is wearing thin.
I can see them talking,
'cause their eyes say so much more,
than their mouths ever could.
I try giving a little smile,
but they know it isn't real,
so it never does any good.
The second I pass by,
they start in with the,
whispering behind my back.
Is this finally it?
Is today gonna be the day,
that the lunatic snaps?
I can feel it building up again,
This smile I wear, my facade, is wearing thin.
But I don’t feel like sharing,
Cuz I’m sick of caring,
And all these people staring,
Just makes it worse.
Instead of making progress,
lately I feel like,
it's all going in reverse.
You told me that when I’m down,
You don’t like having me around.
Which means there’s no solace to be found.
So, let’s quit wasting time and just burn this to the ground.
Oh, so now I’ve got your attention,
But it’s a little too late for that, now.
I can feel it building up again,
This smile I wear, my facade, is wearing thin.
I can see them talking,
'cause their eyes say so much more,
than their mouths ever could.
I try giving a little smile,
but they know it isn't real,
so it never does any good.
The second I pass by,
they start in with the,
whispering behind my back.
Is this finally it?
Is today gonna be the day,
that the lunatic snaps?
I can feel it building up again,
This smile I wear, my facade, is wearing thin.
But I don’t feel like sharing,
Cuz I’m sick of caring,
And all these people staring,
Just makes it worse.
Instead of making progress,
lately I feel like,
it's all going in reverse.
You told me that when I’m down,
You don’t like having me around.
Which means there’s no solace to be found.
So, let’s quit wasting time and just burn this to the ground.
Oh, so now I’ve got your attention,
But it’s a little too late for that, now.
I learned something today.
It's crazy how you can see someone almost every day for over a year and never really get to know them. I realized today that I still had a lot to learn about my big sister.
See, at work, I take my smoke breaks with her. Now this might not seem like a big deal to you pantywaist non-smokers, but let me tell you something, there isn't another bond on earth that can compare with the ones you forge while on smoke breaks. Because when you're hunkered down in a cramped stairwell, trying to block out the rain so you can inhale every last drag before you have to go back to work where the next sweet puff of relief is an agonizing two hours away you can't walk leave that stairwell without feeling closer.
But tonight I sat down with her outside the office where we didn't have to worry about who may hear. For the first time in over a year...I just listened to her. I had the privilege of hearing in detail things which had only been hinted on previously before. I feel like I got to know my big sister much better.
It also made me think about all the other people in my life I consider myself close to? We're all so wrapped up in ourselves and our own lives that we never take the time to listen to stories about the lives of others. You have no idea what kind of events are transpiring around you at all times. It has shown me that none of us are really all that different. We've all got problems and woes, so it doesn't make you special. It makes you just like everyone else.
So please, do yourself and everyone else a favor and shut the fuck up for just one day.
You might be surprised what you discover.
See, at work, I take my smoke breaks with her. Now this might not seem like a big deal to you pantywaist non-smokers, but let me tell you something, there isn't another bond on earth that can compare with the ones you forge while on smoke breaks. Because when you're hunkered down in a cramped stairwell, trying to block out the rain so you can inhale every last drag before you have to go back to work where the next sweet puff of relief is an agonizing two hours away you can't walk leave that stairwell without feeling closer.
But tonight I sat down with her outside the office where we didn't have to worry about who may hear. For the first time in over a year...I just listened to her. I had the privilege of hearing in detail things which had only been hinted on previously before. I feel like I got to know my big sister much better.
It also made me think about all the other people in my life I consider myself close to? We're all so wrapped up in ourselves and our own lives that we never take the time to listen to stories about the lives of others. You have no idea what kind of events are transpiring around you at all times. It has shown me that none of us are really all that different. We've all got problems and woes, so it doesn't make you special. It makes you just like everyone else.
So please, do yourself and everyone else a favor and shut the fuck up for just one day.
You might be surprised what you discover.
Davlin's Paranormal Journal
December 2009
It was late that night, I had just spent hours on my laptop and my eyes felt like they were going to bleed. I set the computer by my side, took off my glasses and placed them on the nightstand. That's when I heard the voices. There were dozens of them and they came from all directions. A few of them were angry, others in frightened whispers, but they were all speaking the same language. I've never heard another one like it before or since. Suddenly, I was pushed and held down by an incredible force. From the light of the laptop, I could see my clothes being moved and pulled down by invisible hands in a hungry attempt to expose more skin. Then, they were all over me. I could see the paths of their fingertips as they explored every inch of my body. The voices grew louder and louder until they were screaming with delight. That's when I blacked out.
True story
It was late that night, I had just spent hours on my laptop and my eyes felt like they were going to bleed. I set the computer by my side, took off my glasses and placed them on the nightstand. That's when I heard the voices. There were dozens of them and they came from all directions. A few of them were angry, others in frightened whispers, but they were all speaking the same language. I've never heard another one like it before or since. Suddenly, I was pushed and held down by an incredible force. From the light of the laptop, I could see my clothes being moved and pulled down by invisible hands in a hungry attempt to expose more skin. Then, they were all over me. I could see the paths of their fingertips as they explored every inch of my body. The voices grew louder and louder until they were screaming with delight. That's when I blacked out.
True story
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)