For the original piece click here.
I moved back home about a month after the events of this story and it was a major scar I didn't have when I originally left. I held it together until the following April when she would have been born. For a solid week I was wracked with grief.
This is also when I started working at my current job and, because I sat 7 feet away from Allison, it gave my mind plenty of distractions. Eventually we started dating and when I tried to talk about the loss of my child she only said, "Yeah, I don't want kids." I ended up having to keep a lot inside.
After a very rocky 10 months, she broke up with me, again, the following April. I told everyone this is why I went crazy, because it's easier than admitting the truth. I've experienced a lot over the course of my life I haven't been able to deal with, because all anyone ever says to me is, "don't be sad." Allison was just the final straw.
The next month I was rotting alone in my apartment while waiting for her next mixed signal. There was one night in particular when I was laying in bed and, as always, unable to sleep. I was staring at the ceiling wondering when the insomnia was going to end when a single word flashed into my head: Hollow.
Immediately I jumped out of bed and sat down with my laptop in the living room. I didn't move from that spot for an hour when the piece was finished. After that, I had the most restful sleep I'd had in months.
Slowly, I started to write more and more personal items and I could feel their weight falling from my shoulders, which led to the creation of my novel. When I was nearing the fruition of 4 months of work, Liz and I reconnected. We'd spend hours on the phone and she would tell me how much she'd hated her life now. She eventually confessed her feelings for me and we began to flirt with the idea of getting back together. I'd asked her if she'd read "Hollow" and she replied, "That the one about the kid? Yeah, it was sad."
I told her we weren't going to work out and haven't talked to her since.
For the most part, I've been able to move on from the terrible feeling of loss I carried with me since that day in September, 2006. Sometimes, though, I'll be reminded and I feel the familiar pang in my chest. I'm still glad it's there, though, because I will never forget the promise I made to my daughter.
I will always remember her.
Also, her 4th birthday would be coming up in two months and I'm a little sad I can't celebrate it.
Soundtrack To My Life: Sound of Pulling Heaven Down
She's standing on the balcony of our apartment with a cup of coffee, admiring the scenery. A full moon hangs low in the sky as the waves of the ocean caress the shore. A light breeze kisses her face and steam rises from the cup as she brings it to her lips. Inspired, I grab a blanket and my MP3 player before stepping outside to join her.
I walk up from behind and wrap her up in the blanket. Then I take one of my earbuds, place it in her ear and the other one in mine. I scroll through my inventory until I find the right song, "Sound Of Pulling Heaven Down" by Blue October and hit play. Immediately, we're taken away by the lyrics.
She allows herself to fall against me and I don't move an inch.
As I bring my arms around her we stare out onto the beach; the lyrics coming to life before our eyes.
Hands find each other in the dark and fingers interlock.
Her head leans back, causing our cheeks to connect. The warmth of her skin ignites the fire within me. The embrace tightens.
She places the cup on the table at her right and turns around to face me. With my right hand I brush the hair out of eyes and then leave it on her cheek.
She moves closer and I bring my lips to meet hers. The world disappears behind closed lids and we get lost in the feel and taste of each other.
Her ear. Neck. Collarbone. Lips. I visit all of my favorite places.
When the song reaches its climax, we're left breathless. I hit stop, pull the bud from her ear and go back inside, leaving her smiling through chattering teeth.
I walk up from behind and wrap her up in the blanket. Then I take one of my earbuds, place it in her ear and the other one in mine. I scroll through my inventory until I find the right song, "Sound Of Pulling Heaven Down" by Blue October and hit play. Immediately, we're taken away by the lyrics.
Somewhere, far away from here
I saw stars, stars that I could reach (yeah)
It was a midnight, a silent twilight
Fell down, beyond the ocean beach (yeah)
She allows herself to fall against me and I don't move an inch.
I assemble all the sand that cover wedding beaches
To build a castle so your mom would have a place to stay
Behind the water slide and down the hill where heaven reaches
Land and time is left to float away (yeah)
As I bring my arms around her we stare out onto the beach; the lyrics coming to life before our eyes.
So rest assured I have the key to every opening
To every wishing well that's deep enough to dream (dream)
I want to show you just how fascinating kissing is
When earth collides with all the space between (yeah)
Hands find each other in the dark and fingers interlock.
I'm reaching farther than I ever have before
Leaving all who broke your heart upon the shore
I may be some sort of crazy
We may be some sort of crazy
But I swear on everything I have and more
Her head leans back, causing our cheeks to connect. The warmth of her skin ignites the fire within me. The embrace tightens.
So never look behind you, spooky people bring you down
The world is ending there's a party by the bay
I'll wear my suit and tie when I am
I am toasting to the way you put that smile upon my face (yeah)
She places the cup on the table at her right and turns around to face me. With my right hand I brush the hair out of eyes and then leave it on her cheek.
Fill up the air balloon and ride with me
Yeah hell is jealous of the rain (rain)
Make love like time and space Is ending
While befriending fate's alluring way of putting us to shame
She moves closer and I bring my lips to meet hers. The world disappears behind closed lids and we get lost in the feel and taste of each other.
I'm reaching farther than I ever have before
Leaving all who broke your heart upon the shore
I may be some sort of crazy
We may be some sort of crazy
But I swear on everything I have and more
Her ear. Neck. Collarbone. Lips. I visit all of my favorite places.
You make the sound of pulling heaven down
You brought the rain's romantic pour
You make the sound
You make the sound
Of pulling heaven down
When the song reaches its climax, we're left breathless. I hit stop, pull the bud from her ear and go back inside, leaving her smiling through chattering teeth.
First and Last: A collection
She recently told me how she reads the back cover along with the first and last sentences of every book she picks up to decide whether or not she's going to make the purchase. She then read those parts from "The Perks Of Being A Wallflower", our favorite book, as an example of how it should be done. Inspired, and never getting tired of my own shit, I present a collection of some of my pieces using this approach.
Click on titles for links.
1. Everything has a price
First: On my lunch break I got a call from my cousin asking me to pick her up from work.
Last: Good one, Jesus.
2. Never backpack through Cuba with Toucan Sam
First: I dreamed about Allison again last night.
Last: I don't know how to end this, as I'm just rambling, so I guess I'll just
3. The story of basic cable and Vampyros Lesbos
First: Writers note: Okay ladies, i'm about to let you inside the minds of males when left alone, or in groups.
Last: There you have it: an hour in the male mind.
4. Closure?
First: Fuck the past.
Last: I just can't dedicate any more time and energy into trying to make that happen.
5. For the best
First: "What exactly is it that you want out of life?"
Last: I’m finally able to admit, ten seconds too late.
6. Closure
First: It was two years ago that I started this job, the day I first saw you as well as your birthday.
Last: It's time to move forward.
7. Boundaries
First: I'm still not sure where you got all these notions.
Last: After all...you always hurt the one you love.
8. The search for inspiration
First: I've hit up every open mic for the past month now.
Last: I want that spark back.
9. First Impressions
First: When it comes to dating (or the start of any new relationship), first impressions can either be the perfect foundation to building something amazing, or can burn down that bridge and piss over the ashes.
Last: Just something to keep in mind while out in the trenches.
10. Me?
First: I've been keeping a low profile.
Last: And I'm almost ready to tell you everything.
11. I want my childhood back
First: I have a confession...I, Davlin Stewart, am a shameless nerd.
Last: Please, Platinum Dunes...don't take this one from me, too.
12. Dreams
First: I dreamt about her again last night.
Last: 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.
13. Life isn't fair
First: It's a phrase I've heard and spoken my entire life.
Last: Life is fair, you just have to grow up and learn to take the bad with the good.
14. And now a collection of my status messages from Facebook. With commentary!
First: I've been kind of lax in my posts lately, but that's because so much has been going on.
Last: Well, that's been the last few months brought to you by Facebook.
15. Loss Pt. 2: The eulogy I wish I'd given
First: It's funny the difference a year can make.
Last: And I miss you.
Click on titles for links.
1. Everything has a price
First: On my lunch break I got a call from my cousin asking me to pick her up from work.
Last: Good one, Jesus.
2. Never backpack through Cuba with Toucan Sam
First: I dreamed about Allison again last night.
Last: I don't know how to end this, as I'm just rambling, so I guess I'll just
3. The story of basic cable and Vampyros Lesbos
First: Writers note: Okay ladies, i'm about to let you inside the minds of males when left alone, or in groups.
Last: There you have it: an hour in the male mind.
4. Closure?
First: Fuck the past.
Last: I just can't dedicate any more time and energy into trying to make that happen.
5. For the best
First: "What exactly is it that you want out of life?"
Last: I’m finally able to admit, ten seconds too late.
6. Closure
First: It was two years ago that I started this job, the day I first saw you as well as your birthday.
Last: It's time to move forward.
7. Boundaries
First: I'm still not sure where you got all these notions.
Last: After all...you always hurt the one you love.
8. The search for inspiration
First: I've hit up every open mic for the past month now.
Last: I want that spark back.
9. First Impressions
First: When it comes to dating (or the start of any new relationship), first impressions can either be the perfect foundation to building something amazing, or can burn down that bridge and piss over the ashes.
Last: Just something to keep in mind while out in the trenches.
10. Me?
First: I've been keeping a low profile.
Last: And I'm almost ready to tell you everything.
11. I want my childhood back
First: I have a confession...I, Davlin Stewart, am a shameless nerd.
Last: Please, Platinum Dunes...don't take this one from me, too.
12. Dreams
First: I dreamt about her again last night.
Last: 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.
13. Life isn't fair
First: It's a phrase I've heard and spoken my entire life.
Last: Life is fair, you just have to grow up and learn to take the bad with the good.
14. And now a collection of my status messages from Facebook. With commentary!
First: I've been kind of lax in my posts lately, but that's because so much has been going on.
Last: Well, that's been the last few months brought to you by Facebook.
15. Loss Pt. 2: The eulogy I wish I'd given
First: It's funny the difference a year can make.
Last: And I miss you.
Stupid things which get me overly excited #44
I love words.
You know how most guys will spend their weekends or prime time TV hours watching sports? I spend at least an hour a day on thesaurus.com. I like to use a more precocious vocabulary (or "Huh Words" for some of you, no judgment) in every manner of communication. Yes, it quite often derails conversation.
Anyway, talking this way through text is often a pain in the ass, because I rely pretty heavily on the crutch of spell check. So, when I type a more complex word in and I'm not sure if I spelled it correctly, I'll look it up online. Sometimes I'm right, which gets me overly excited.
You know how most guys will spend their weekends or prime time TV hours watching sports? I spend at least an hour a day on thesaurus.com. I like to use a more precocious vocabulary (or "Huh Words" for some of you, no judgment) in every manner of communication. Yes, it quite often derails conversation.
Anyway, talking this way through text is often a pain in the ass, because I rely pretty heavily on the crutch of spell check. So, when I type a more complex word in and I'm not sure if I spelled it correctly, I'll look it up online. Sometimes I'm right, which gets me overly excited.
Notion # 21
You weren't going to be able to sleep comfortably until you owned the set of Marvel glasses. And you're right, they are pretty bitchin'.
Red Herring
Crudely drawn storyboards are laid out in front of me on the dining room table. They're arranged to tell the most bittersweet story I've ever penned. Created in sporadic bursts between classes and my internship; the manifesto of a lovesick heart.
It opens with our hero at a crossroads finding the dream he's been chasing longer than he can remember on his right and his dream girl on the left. Opportunities presented themselves at the exact same time which forced him to choose between the two. Cliche, I know, but I've only been in school for six months.
After minutes of thoughtful consideration, our hero reached his decision. He'd been living his life to please other people for too long and he'd be foolish to squander a once in a lifetime opportunity. Plus, they were meant to be together, right? What could go wrong?
For starters, the distance between them was doubled. He became busy with his classes, while she waited on text messages which were never returned. The only way they've ever been able to connect suddenly severed, their eyes began to wander. Mistakes were made, foul words said and trust irreversibly damaged. They ended it through text on a screen without ever meeting face to face.
After several months, our hero realizes what a horrible mistake he had made. Without her, his dream lost its allure and his well of ideas dried up. He no longer had his muse or his strength and he lost everything else shortly thereafter.
While I'm making notes in my netbook, I hear a knock at the front door. I grumble in mild frustration at being disturbed as I rise from the table and go to greet the soon to be victim of my frustrations.
Once the door is opened, however, they fade because I'm staring into her eyes which make it impossible to feel anything other than bliss. Her lips crack that smart ass grin of hers and she manages to hold it flawlessly. My eyes dart up and focus on the U-Haul parked in front of my apartment. Our apartment. Then our eyes meet again and the grin explodes into the biggest smile I've ever seen on her beautiful face and she leaps into my arms.
"Jehovah's witnesses sure are getting aggressive these days." I say, suddenly aware of how close her lips are to mine.
"Shut up." She retorts as she leans forward and I officially become hers with a single kiss. "Where's the bedroom?"
I make a slight nod behind me and follow her to where we'll be spending the next several hours. What? The storyboards? That was just fiction, of course we end up together.
It opens with our hero at a crossroads finding the dream he's been chasing longer than he can remember on his right and his dream girl on the left. Opportunities presented themselves at the exact same time which forced him to choose between the two. Cliche, I know, but I've only been in school for six months.
After minutes of thoughtful consideration, our hero reached his decision. He'd been living his life to please other people for too long and he'd be foolish to squander a once in a lifetime opportunity. Plus, they were meant to be together, right? What could go wrong?
For starters, the distance between them was doubled. He became busy with his classes, while she waited on text messages which were never returned. The only way they've ever been able to connect suddenly severed, their eyes began to wander. Mistakes were made, foul words said and trust irreversibly damaged. They ended it through text on a screen without ever meeting face to face.
After several months, our hero realizes what a horrible mistake he had made. Without her, his dream lost its allure and his well of ideas dried up. He no longer had his muse or his strength and he lost everything else shortly thereafter.
While I'm making notes in my netbook, I hear a knock at the front door. I grumble in mild frustration at being disturbed as I rise from the table and go to greet the soon to be victim of my frustrations.
Once the door is opened, however, they fade because I'm staring into her eyes which make it impossible to feel anything other than bliss. Her lips crack that smart ass grin of hers and she manages to hold it flawlessly. My eyes dart up and focus on the U-Haul parked in front of my apartment. Our apartment. Then our eyes meet again and the grin explodes into the biggest smile I've ever seen on her beautiful face and she leaps into my arms.
"Jehovah's witnesses sure are getting aggressive these days." I say, suddenly aware of how close her lips are to mine.
"Shut up." She retorts as she leans forward and I officially become hers with a single kiss. "Where's the bedroom?"
I make a slight nod behind me and follow her to where we'll be spending the next several hours. What? The storyboards? That was just fiction, of course we end up together.
Davlin's Playlist: Thinking of you
1. The New Year-Deathcab For Cutie
2. It Had To Be You-Motion City Soundtrack
3. Inevitable-Anberlin
4. Always-Blink-182
5. Sound Of Pulling Heaven Down-Blue October
6. Sigh No More-Mumford and Sons
7. Hands Down-Dashboard Confessional
8. Learning How To Smile-Everclear
9. Night Drive-Jimmy Eat World
10. Flaws-The Spill Canvas
11. Through Glass-Stone Sour
12. Tear You Apart-She Wants Revenge
13. The Good Left Undone-Rise Against
14. Hey Pretty-Poe Ft. Mark Danielewski
15. Taken Back By You-New Found Glory
16. Leave Out All The Rest-Linkin Park
17. Foxglove-Murder By Death
18. Here Without You-3 Doors Down
19. Down Together-The Refreshments
20. Only You-Cartel
Bonus Track!
Santa Monica-Everclear
2. It Had To Be You-Motion City Soundtrack
3. Inevitable-Anberlin
4. Always-Blink-182
5. Sound Of Pulling Heaven Down-Blue October
6. Sigh No More-Mumford and Sons
7. Hands Down-Dashboard Confessional
8. Learning How To Smile-Everclear
9. Night Drive-Jimmy Eat World
10. Flaws-The Spill Canvas
11. Through Glass-Stone Sour
12. Tear You Apart-She Wants Revenge
13. The Good Left Undone-Rise Against
14. Hey Pretty-Poe Ft. Mark Danielewski
15. Taken Back By You-New Found Glory
16. Leave Out All The Rest-Linkin Park
17. Foxglove-Murder By Death
18. Here Without You-3 Doors Down
19. Down Together-The Refreshments
20. Only You-Cartel
Bonus Track!
Santa Monica-Everclear
My time in the mental hospital Part 3: An unexpected friend.
I awoke on the first morning groggy with an odd taste in my mouth. Even though there was no one to impress, I still went through my daily routine to make sure I looked good. Once dressed I walked down the hallway to the front desk.
"So, what've we got goin on today?" I asked the woman there who was more preoccupied with the paperwork in front of her instead of the stellar conversation I brought to the table.
"You're about to go to breakfast. Then meds. Then group."
"I was wondering if I could also book a massage in my room for 3 o'clock."
She stared at me, completely unamused.
"Right. Ok. I'm gonna go smoke now." I said to her as I turned to walk towards The Box. The whole way there I stared at the ground to avoid eye contact with everyone else.
Luckily this time I was in there alone and allowed my guard to drop slightly. I became fully immersed in the stories on the walls. My personal favorite was, "God's last name isn't damnit!" Unfortunately, due to my intense concentration I didn't notice Joseph was right behind me until he spoke.
"Good morning."
"Jesus!" I screamed as I spun around to put my back against the wall as well as put more distance between him and myself.
"Don't take my name in vain. Can I have a cigarette, please?" His face never changed as he spoke.
"Sure, here." I could foresee this being a problem, with me only having brought three packs.
I disposed of my smoke before it was finished, went inside and a few minutes later they took us to the kitchen for breakfast. I had cereal, soggy bacon and powdered eggs shaped to give the impression of being real and scrambled. I sat down at the table, joined by a huge mentally disabled man with tourette's syndrome to my left, the naked crazy lady to my right and joker and another religious fanatic directly in front of me.
The food was abhorrent. The eggs disintegrated when I poked them with my fork and the bacon (one of my favorite foods) left much to be desired. From that moment on, I ate a lot of cereal.
The conversation at my table was deafening as well as incoherent. Everyone was shouting to themselves and not taking in anything said by another person. Joseph was sent back to our wing due to a violent outburst and we followed not long after.
I noticed during breakfast and when I drank some water later that the awful, metallic taste from earlier in the morning had only intensified. As I pondered this mystery I noticed the patients forming a line and, since I had nothing better to do, hopped in along with them. When I reached the end I found myself to a window similar to one you'd find at at drive through.
"Name?" The woman I'd previously chatted up at the desk asked me through the glass.
"What's this line for?" I asked.
She sighed deeply. "This is where you get your meds. You need to come here twice a day and take them."
"Ok. What are they?"
"Let me check. What's your name?"
"Wait a minute. You're in charge of medications and you don't know our names? You're surrounded by mental patients. Joseph over there said he was Jesus this morning."
"Look, if you keep talking to me like that you're going to be in here a lot longer than you'd like. What's your name?"
"I'm Dav-lin Stew-art." I told her while drawing out each syllable, just to piss her off.
She then handed me a Dixie cup with three pills and another one filled with water. I gagged while consuming the contents of each.
Once that unpleasantness was over I went with my fellow crazies to my first group session. The counselor was a beautiful woman a few years older than myself and she left me transfixed. Since this kind of group wasn't the type who could articulate their feelings with fully constructed sentences, she opted instead for a very simplistic board game. She led conversation casually as we all struggled to get through it together.
"How do you feel being in here?" She asked me when it was my turn.
"I'm 22 years old," I replied while shaking the dice in my hand, "and I'm so emotionally screwed up I had to check myself into a mental hospital." I rolled the dice. "If I'm being honest. I'm not really sure what to feel right now."
"What's the hardest thing about it?
"I miss my music so bad it hurts."
Her eyes flashed with understanding. "If you could hear any band right now, who would it be?"
"Right now? Blue October, hands down."
Thirty minutes later group ended and we went back to our wing. This time, when we returned there was a scared kid sitting alone at one of the tables. His eyes darted in our direction and studied us all. He was terrified. I went over to him and sat down.
"Hey, man. My name's Davlin. Rough morning?"
"Hi. Eric. I'm freaking out."
"What happened?"
"My mom, man. She pushes me too hard in school. Like, it's crazy. I just want to be able to live my own life, but she won't let me. This morning I took 8 Tylenol in front of her. I just wanted to scare her; to show her how she makes me feel."
"Then what happened?"
"She called the paramedics, who gave me a charcoal pill and sent me here. My mouth still tastes like shit"
"That fucking sucks, man. How old are you?"
"19."
To make him feel better, I told him this story:
“There was this one day a couple of years ago I was feeling really depressed. I was watching TV feeling sad and bored when I picked up my belt. It was one of those that had leather threaded together, to allow you to put the notch anywhere you wanted. So, I wrapped it around my neck and buckled it as tight as it would go. I then just sat there for a couple of minutes. It was more uncomfortable than anything, so I got bored with it and gave up. After a couple of hours I went over to my girlfriend’s place and she asked what was wrong with my neck. The belt had burst all the blood vessels around my throat and you could see the perfect outline of the leather threads. I still don’t remember how I explained that one.”
“Hahaha...You did that? That was dumb.”
“Oh, really? I’m gonna get shit from you, Mr. 8 Tylenol?”
After that, we became inseparable in there. Unfortunately, this is also when the pills I ingested earlier started taking effect, causing the memories of the rest of my stay to splinter.
"So, what've we got goin on today?" I asked the woman there who was more preoccupied with the paperwork in front of her instead of the stellar conversation I brought to the table.
"You're about to go to breakfast. Then meds. Then group."
"I was wondering if I could also book a massage in my room for 3 o'clock."
She stared at me, completely unamused.
"Right. Ok. I'm gonna go smoke now." I said to her as I turned to walk towards The Box. The whole way there I stared at the ground to avoid eye contact with everyone else.
Luckily this time I was in there alone and allowed my guard to drop slightly. I became fully immersed in the stories on the walls. My personal favorite was, "God's last name isn't damnit!" Unfortunately, due to my intense concentration I didn't notice Joseph was right behind me until he spoke.
"Good morning."
"Jesus!" I screamed as I spun around to put my back against the wall as well as put more distance between him and myself.
"Don't take my name in vain. Can I have a cigarette, please?" His face never changed as he spoke.
"Sure, here." I could foresee this being a problem, with me only having brought three packs.
I disposed of my smoke before it was finished, went inside and a few minutes later they took us to the kitchen for breakfast. I had cereal, soggy bacon and powdered eggs shaped to give the impression of being real and scrambled. I sat down at the table, joined by a huge mentally disabled man with tourette's syndrome to my left, the naked crazy lady to my right and joker and another religious fanatic directly in front of me.
The food was abhorrent. The eggs disintegrated when I poked them with my fork and the bacon (one of my favorite foods) left much to be desired. From that moment on, I ate a lot of cereal.
The conversation at my table was deafening as well as incoherent. Everyone was shouting to themselves and not taking in anything said by another person. Joseph was sent back to our wing due to a violent outburst and we followed not long after.
I noticed during breakfast and when I drank some water later that the awful, metallic taste from earlier in the morning had only intensified. As I pondered this mystery I noticed the patients forming a line and, since I had nothing better to do, hopped in along with them. When I reached the end I found myself to a window similar to one you'd find at at drive through.
"Name?" The woman I'd previously chatted up at the desk asked me through the glass.
"What's this line for?" I asked.
She sighed deeply. "This is where you get your meds. You need to come here twice a day and take them."
"Ok. What are they?"
"Let me check. What's your name?"
"Wait a minute. You're in charge of medications and you don't know our names? You're surrounded by mental patients. Joseph over there said he was Jesus this morning."
"Look, if you keep talking to me like that you're going to be in here a lot longer than you'd like. What's your name?"
"I'm Dav-lin Stew-art." I told her while drawing out each syllable, just to piss her off.
She then handed me a Dixie cup with three pills and another one filled with water. I gagged while consuming the contents of each.
Once that unpleasantness was over I went with my fellow crazies to my first group session. The counselor was a beautiful woman a few years older than myself and she left me transfixed. Since this kind of group wasn't the type who could articulate their feelings with fully constructed sentences, she opted instead for a very simplistic board game. She led conversation casually as we all struggled to get through it together.
"How do you feel being in here?" She asked me when it was my turn.
"I'm 22 years old," I replied while shaking the dice in my hand, "and I'm so emotionally screwed up I had to check myself into a mental hospital." I rolled the dice. "If I'm being honest. I'm not really sure what to feel right now."
"What's the hardest thing about it?
"I miss my music so bad it hurts."
Her eyes flashed with understanding. "If you could hear any band right now, who would it be?"
"Right now? Blue October, hands down."
Thirty minutes later group ended and we went back to our wing. This time, when we returned there was a scared kid sitting alone at one of the tables. His eyes darted in our direction and studied us all. He was terrified. I went over to him and sat down.
"Hey, man. My name's Davlin. Rough morning?"
"Hi. Eric. I'm freaking out."
"What happened?"
"My mom, man. She pushes me too hard in school. Like, it's crazy. I just want to be able to live my own life, but she won't let me. This morning I took 8 Tylenol in front of her. I just wanted to scare her; to show her how she makes me feel."
"Then what happened?"
"She called the paramedics, who gave me a charcoal pill and sent me here. My mouth still tastes like shit"
"That fucking sucks, man. How old are you?"
"19."
To make him feel better, I told him this story:
“There was this one day a couple of years ago I was feeling really depressed. I was watching TV feeling sad and bored when I picked up my belt. It was one of those that had leather threaded together, to allow you to put the notch anywhere you wanted. So, I wrapped it around my neck and buckled it as tight as it would go. I then just sat there for a couple of minutes. It was more uncomfortable than anything, so I got bored with it and gave up. After a couple of hours I went over to my girlfriend’s place and she asked what was wrong with my neck. The belt had burst all the blood vessels around my throat and you could see the perfect outline of the leather threads. I still don’t remember how I explained that one.”
“Hahaha...You did that? That was dumb.”
“Oh, really? I’m gonna get shit from you, Mr. 8 Tylenol?”
After that, we became inseparable in there. Unfortunately, this is also when the pills I ingested earlier started taking effect, causing the memories of the rest of my stay to splinter.
I'm done with cigarettes
After several excruciating years of waiting, we had finally gotten together and it was everything I'd ever dreamed it could be. Right off the bat, the electricity between us was filled with both complete understanding and raw sexual chemistry which became static on our tongues and fingertips.
For two marvelous months life was perfect and we wanted for nothing.
Those times however, were not meant to last. I was driving home one evening when I was rocked by a coughing fit so severe I had to pull over. I gripped the wheel with both of my hands as my chest continued to spasm and sent razor blades up my esophagus until blood sprayed my dashboard.
My old addiction finally came up to bite me in the ass and I was diagnosed with lung cancer. I'm a college student with no savings or insurance. The doctors haven't given me long.
I haven't been able to sleep much since then. I feel like I've got precious little time to waste on dreams, so I spend it watching as you do. At first I was so fucking angry with myself for happily killing myself this whole time and cutting our life together so short. I wasted an entire week in this state before I realized just how much time with you that was.
Now, I'm going to savor every single second until I run out. For some reason I know it's going to be ok, because at least I'll be facing it with you by my side. But, where does that leave you after I'm gone? You're the one who's really suffering here and I won't be able to comfort you for much longer.
I lay back down and blanket you in my arms. You nuzzle into my neck and smile. It makes me think about all the precious moments people take for granted, because they assume tomorrow is a promise.
Then I kiss your forehead and allow myself to dream.
For two marvelous months life was perfect and we wanted for nothing.
Those times however, were not meant to last. I was driving home one evening when I was rocked by a coughing fit so severe I had to pull over. I gripped the wheel with both of my hands as my chest continued to spasm and sent razor blades up my esophagus until blood sprayed my dashboard.
My old addiction finally came up to bite me in the ass and I was diagnosed with lung cancer. I'm a college student with no savings or insurance. The doctors haven't given me long.
I haven't been able to sleep much since then. I feel like I've got precious little time to waste on dreams, so I spend it watching as you do. At first I was so fucking angry with myself for happily killing myself this whole time and cutting our life together so short. I wasted an entire week in this state before I realized just how much time with you that was.
Now, I'm going to savor every single second until I run out. For some reason I know it's going to be ok, because at least I'll be facing it with you by my side. But, where does that leave you after I'm gone? You're the one who's really suffering here and I won't be able to comfort you for much longer.
I lay back down and blanket you in my arms. You nuzzle into my neck and smile. It makes me think about all the precious moments people take for granted, because they assume tomorrow is a promise.
Then I kiss your forehead and allow myself to dream.
The Lost Songs 6: Souls Suffice
Written: 2006
Inspiration: A buddy of mine in SC told me I write too many songs about broken hearts and needed to try something different. When I asked him what I should write instead, he suggested a piece which would show "how I see the world". This is what I came up with. When I showed it to him and asked him what he thought, his face was pale and he said I should go back to writing about relationships.
Souls Suffice
The city is on fire tonight.
I watch the flames burn down everything in sight.
As the world takes its last breath,
I wonder how we could have gone so wrong.
It’s a tough pill to swallow when your,
Will to survive stays so strong.
The planes are flying overhead,
And there’s nothing left here to bomb.
I saw my brother die here today,
He wasn’t even three years old.
I held him in my arms,
And felt his limp body grow cold.
There are people burning alive,
and I can’t escape the smell.
After the last 24 hours,
I no longer fear hell.
Guns are all around me but,
I refuse to pick one up.
A soldier’s spirit I do not have,
So I’ll just rely on luck.
With it I make it to the outskirts,
And collapse face first into the dirt.
Isn’t this what you wanted?
Isn’t this what you asked for?
Did you know you’d pay your price?
With not just blood but so much more?
So now that you’ve made this sacrifice.
I gotta know,
Will our souls suffice?
This is not,
The end of the story.
It’s not even,
A return to former glory.
It is what it is,
Sometimes that’s just the way the world works.
So god do you still love us,
Despite our violent quirks?
Inspiration: A buddy of mine in SC told me I write too many songs about broken hearts and needed to try something different. When I asked him what I should write instead, he suggested a piece which would show "how I see the world". This is what I came up with. When I showed it to him and asked him what he thought, his face was pale and he said I should go back to writing about relationships.
Souls Suffice
The city is on fire tonight.
I watch the flames burn down everything in sight.
As the world takes its last breath,
I wonder how we could have gone so wrong.
It’s a tough pill to swallow when your,
Will to survive stays so strong.
The planes are flying overhead,
And there’s nothing left here to bomb.
I saw my brother die here today,
He wasn’t even three years old.
I held him in my arms,
And felt his limp body grow cold.
There are people burning alive,
and I can’t escape the smell.
After the last 24 hours,
I no longer fear hell.
Guns are all around me but,
I refuse to pick one up.
A soldier’s spirit I do not have,
So I’ll just rely on luck.
With it I make it to the outskirts,
And collapse face first into the dirt.
Isn’t this what you wanted?
Isn’t this what you asked for?
Did you know you’d pay your price?
With not just blood but so much more?
So now that you’ve made this sacrifice.
I gotta know,
Will our souls suffice?
This is not,
The end of the story.
It’s not even,
A return to former glory.
It is what it is,
Sometimes that’s just the way the world works.
So god do you still love us,
Despite our violent quirks?
The Lost Songs 5: Feel No More
Written: Sept 03
Inspiration: A friend of mine committed suicide and I was the last person to speak to him. This happened when I was 18, two months after I took the two medicine cabinets worth of pills.
Feel No More
You said you didn't,
want to live this life.
It wasn't fair,
and you'd rather die.
The bottle opens,
capsules on the floor.
You're gonna leave,
and feel no more.
Chorus:
I reached out my hand,
but you wouldn't take it.
The right decision was there,
but you just wouldn't make it.
What do you do when your,
prayers fall upon deaf ears?
And you're eaten alive,
by your worst fears?
If only I was there in time.
I'm so sorry that I failed you.
End Chorus:
The pills start to hurt,
as they go down dry.
With tear streaked eyes you,
look to God and ask him why,
there has to be so much pain.
And all my good intentions,
they are in vain.
Chorus 1x:
Flash forward,
to your grave.
Etched in stone,
is your fate and name.
All the people around you,
Gawk and stare.
If only you knew,
how many actually cared.
Things might have been different...
and not like this.
Chorus 1x:
Fin.
Inspiration: A friend of mine committed suicide and I was the last person to speak to him. This happened when I was 18, two months after I took the two medicine cabinets worth of pills.
Feel No More
You said you didn't,
want to live this life.
It wasn't fair,
and you'd rather die.
The bottle opens,
capsules on the floor.
You're gonna leave,
and feel no more.
Chorus:
I reached out my hand,
but you wouldn't take it.
The right decision was there,
but you just wouldn't make it.
What do you do when your,
prayers fall upon deaf ears?
And you're eaten alive,
by your worst fears?
If only I was there in time.
I'm so sorry that I failed you.
End Chorus:
The pills start to hurt,
as they go down dry.
With tear streaked eyes you,
look to God and ask him why,
there has to be so much pain.
And all my good intentions,
they are in vain.
Chorus 1x:
Flash forward,
to your grave.
Etched in stone,
is your fate and name.
All the people around you,
Gawk and stare.
If only you knew,
how many actually cared.
Things might have been different...
and not like this.
Chorus 1x:
Fin.
The Lost Songs 4: A Time Of Innocence
Written: December 2002
Inspiration: Not liking the person I was growing into.
Author's Note: I've mentioned this song in several prior posts and just realized I've never posted it. This not only became the template for every song after, but I feel it is one of my best.
A Time Of Innocence
Tonight is the night I’ve,
fallen from grace.
I’m looking' in the mirror and I,
don’t even recognize the face,
staring back at me.
Every single word I’ve spoken,
has been in blasphemy.
I’ve made so many mistakes and,
now just look at the cost.
Tonight is the night that,
all my innocence is lost.
Chorus:
So take me,
BACK,
to when I was younger.
BACK,
when you were wiser.
BACK,
to when nothing made any sense.
Just take me back,
to a time of innocence.
End Chorus:
We’d never let our parents get us down.
Who cares what they thought?
They were never around.
And in school I wondered why,
they always had to make you cry.
Or why they’d beat me to the ground,
left lying' in the mud where I was found.
We had each other from the start.
And our bond stayed strong,
as the world around us fell apart.
Chorus 1x:
And I don’t care about the future.
I don’t even care,
bout how we’ll get there.
Even though our lives have moved so fast,
we’ll always have the past.
And no matter what happens,
they can never take that.
Chorus 1x:
Fin.
Inspiration: Not liking the person I was growing into.
Author's Note: I've mentioned this song in several prior posts and just realized I've never posted it. This not only became the template for every song after, but I feel it is one of my best.
A Time Of Innocence
Tonight is the night I’ve,
fallen from grace.
I’m looking' in the mirror and I,
don’t even recognize the face,
staring back at me.
Every single word I’ve spoken,
has been in blasphemy.
I’ve made so many mistakes and,
now just look at the cost.
Tonight is the night that,
all my innocence is lost.
Chorus:
So take me,
BACK,
to when I was younger.
BACK,
when you were wiser.
BACK,
to when nothing made any sense.
Just take me back,
to a time of innocence.
End Chorus:
We’d never let our parents get us down.
Who cares what they thought?
They were never around.
And in school I wondered why,
they always had to make you cry.
Or why they’d beat me to the ground,
left lying' in the mud where I was found.
We had each other from the start.
And our bond stayed strong,
as the world around us fell apart.
Chorus 1x:
And I don’t care about the future.
I don’t even care,
bout how we’ll get there.
Even though our lives have moved so fast,
we’ll always have the past.
And no matter what happens,
they can never take that.
Chorus 1x:
Fin.
28 of my favorite posts
Click on titles for links.
1. Words
I do my best thinking in the car and it's a hard process to convert into words. This piece also inspired the name of my site, Bled Out Onto A Page
2. At the water's edge
This was my first attempt with an abstract narrative and it's hard to describe how I feel about it while still sounding humble. Read it.
3. An old friend, Mediatech and Liquid Sex
I wrote this three years ago and it's funny just how much has changed and yet stayed the same.
4. Hollow
Dedicated to my baby girl. I love you, angel.
5. Deja Vu
Even though I started out writing songs, I wouldn't call myself a songwriter. I do like this one.
6. Vicarious self reflection
Here's what someone once said about this piece, "You have a tremendous knack for telling us everything we need to know, but nothing that we want."
7. Maybe insomnia's not so bad, after all
I've got video of me performing this on my site. It will haunt you.
8. Epiphany in the static
I absolutely adore this one and it contains what I think is the best line I've ever written. "I think in white noise."
9. A transient affair
This was a fictional piece where I tried to capture the guilt ridden confusion felt once the afterglow of a one night stand had faded. I don't like that last sentence but I have a feeling I'm going to be doing this for awhile, so fuck it.
10. Mafioso's requiem
This work of fiction is much more brutal. Can you see what's really happening?
11. To the girl who taught me the art of letting go
You have no idea how good this felt to write or cathartic it is to perform.
12. After the tone
Speaking of performing, this is my most requested. Go see it on my site, it's cool I'll wait.
13. Bemoan
Some wounds take longer to heal than others.
14. My Brand New Coat
This was the first genuinely positive piece I'd posted on this blog. It was followed days later by...
15. Loss
I miss you, Mark.
16. Just a taste
I spent an hour on the second to last sentence.
17. Harbinger Ch. 10: We interrupt this broadcast
While I'd rather you didn't start this story here, I feel this chapter is the most powerful.
18. Expulsion
The sequel to "At the water's edge", only in this one I get rid of my soul.
19. An examination of some recent comments I have received
This is my most viewed post; a fact which makes me smile.
20. My favorite memory of her
This was my first attempt at remembering fondly instead of hatefully mourning.
21. This has been a long time coming
My thanks to all of my readers, even if it's like pulling teeth for conversation sometimes. I love you all.
22. My time in a mental hospital Part 1 and Part 2: My first night
A deeply personal story which I will finish when I'm ready.
23. With time
And along came you.
24. The moment I knew I was meant to be a writer
My origin story.
25. Feel. Release. Heal.
Yes, my website does need instructions.
26. Since that moment
Heartbreaking fiction.
27. For Ana
You can't read that one. It's hers.
28. This is what I want: A proclamation
To the future!
Fin.
1. Words
I do my best thinking in the car and it's a hard process to convert into words. This piece also inspired the name of my site, Bled Out Onto A Page
2. At the water's edge
This was my first attempt with an abstract narrative and it's hard to describe how I feel about it while still sounding humble. Read it.
3. An old friend, Mediatech and Liquid Sex
I wrote this three years ago and it's funny just how much has changed and yet stayed the same.
4. Hollow
Dedicated to my baby girl. I love you, angel.
5. Deja Vu
Even though I started out writing songs, I wouldn't call myself a songwriter. I do like this one.
6. Vicarious self reflection
Here's what someone once said about this piece, "You have a tremendous knack for telling us everything we need to know, but nothing that we want."
7. Maybe insomnia's not so bad, after all
I've got video of me performing this on my site. It will haunt you.
8. Epiphany in the static
I absolutely adore this one and it contains what I think is the best line I've ever written. "I think in white noise."
9. A transient affair
This was a fictional piece where I tried to capture the guilt ridden confusion felt once the afterglow of a one night stand had faded. I don't like that last sentence but I have a feeling I'm going to be doing this for awhile, so fuck it.
10. Mafioso's requiem
This work of fiction is much more brutal. Can you see what's really happening?
11. To the girl who taught me the art of letting go
You have no idea how good this felt to write or cathartic it is to perform.
12. After the tone
Speaking of performing, this is my most requested. Go see it on my site, it's cool I'll wait.
13. Bemoan
Some wounds take longer to heal than others.
14. My Brand New Coat
This was the first genuinely positive piece I'd posted on this blog. It was followed days later by...
15. Loss
I miss you, Mark.
16. Just a taste
I spent an hour on the second to last sentence.
17. Harbinger Ch. 10: We interrupt this broadcast
While I'd rather you didn't start this story here, I feel this chapter is the most powerful.
18. Expulsion
The sequel to "At the water's edge", only in this one I get rid of my soul.
19. An examination of some recent comments I have received
This is my most viewed post; a fact which makes me smile.
20. My favorite memory of her
This was my first attempt at remembering fondly instead of hatefully mourning.
21. This has been a long time coming
My thanks to all of my readers, even if it's like pulling teeth for conversation sometimes. I love you all.
22. My time in a mental hospital Part 1 and Part 2: My first night
A deeply personal story which I will finish when I'm ready.
23. With time
And along came you.
24. The moment I knew I was meant to be a writer
My origin story.
25. Feel. Release. Heal.
Yes, my website does need instructions.
26. Since that moment
Heartbreaking fiction.
27. For Ana
You can't read that one. It's hers.
28. This is what I want: A proclamation
To the future!
Fin.
Growth
Before I get started, have some numbers.
2008
Number of posts: 44
Average per month: 3.66
2009
Number of posts: 63
Average per month: 5.25
2010
Number of posts: 49
Average per month: 4.98
2011
Number of posts for January: 51
Number of posts for February: 22
I'm sure most of you who read this start with the front page and stop when you get sick of it. To get the full effect of the newer pieces, you must first read every other post which proceeds it. I don't think anyone has, though, which creates my biggest challenge as a writer.
I have to somehow manage to tell a seemingly endless story, while at the same time not getting so tangled in its own continuity that it turns off new readers. I think some exercises were more successful than others, but I stand by them all. But to my new readers, I promise you will see the bigger picture if you start from the beginning.
2008
Number of posts: 44
Average per month: 3.66
2009
Number of posts: 63
Average per month: 5.25
2010
Number of posts: 49
Average per month: 4.98
2011
Number of posts for January: 51
Number of posts for February: 22
I'm sure most of you who read this start with the front page and stop when you get sick of it. To get the full effect of the newer pieces, you must first read every other post which proceeds it. I don't think anyone has, though, which creates my biggest challenge as a writer.
I have to somehow manage to tell a seemingly endless story, while at the same time not getting so tangled in its own continuity that it turns off new readers. I think some exercises were more successful than others, but I stand by them all. But to my new readers, I promise you will see the bigger picture if you start from the beginning.
Notion # 55
Sometimes you'll say you do something really well or name a quality about yourself you like, but it's out of confidence instead of arrogance.
Routine
At 5:15 my first alarm goes off and I don't hear it. They usually aren't able to stir me until at least a half hour later. When the one on my laptop goes off I hit snooze and don't have a memory of anything until 6:30. At this point I'm going to be pushing to make it to work on time. This should also bother me much more than it does.
I sit up on the couch, blankets and pillows piled all around me. I don't know why, but I can't sleep in my bed anymore, so I've grown quite fond of the living room. While in the shower, luke warm water cascades off of my face and always leaves me feeling unsatisfied. I dry off, step out and begin my routine. Gel in the hair, brushing of the teeth, deodorant and then I get dressed. This never changes unless I'm running so late I don't want to deal with my hair and rock a hat instead.
There's no enthusiasm during my daily ritual. It's just another thing I do nowadays. I've lost the drive in my life here that I used to have. I'm not sure how to get it back, or if I even really want to.
I'm in my car now, driving to work. When Russ Martin is on a commercial break I listen to songs from my MP3 player as loud as I can possibly stand. I never really feel like I've woken up; my mind still fresh with our conversation the night before.
At work I go through the motions. More is asked of me and I want to do less of it every day. It's hard, you know? When after so many years of soul searching you actually discover the things you want, it's painful when they're both half a country away.
I wish I was stong about this like you are. I never hear you say anything about how hard things are in your life. I admire your optimism and I promise I'm trying to be the same way, but, like I said, it's difficult.
I barely say anything in the conversations I have with people around me and they're always the same. I don't feel connected to the people here anymore and I question if I ever did. This perpetual disconnect only intesifies the dream like state in which I'm constantly finding myself.
I've tried to explain all of this, but I don't think anyone really understands. They simply tell me everyone has to do things they don't want to and this is where those conversations usually end. While this is inevitable in some instances, I think this defeatist attitude is what seperates myself from others around me.
I've never been one to settle, really. No one is guaranteed a very long time on this planet and once yours is up, that's all you get. I guess I've finally decided to use mine to pursue the things that make me happy and hold on to them once they are found.
These are just some of the thoughts that bounce back and forth through my head when working fails to hold my interest. Then, I get back in my car and turn the radio up so loud it annoys the motorist around me, but I don't care. This is the only joy I really get from being here these days.
Things are better at home, if only because it's easier to distract myself from the things which have weighed heavy on my mind. Eventually, after over 12 hours of watching the clock my favorite time of the day arrives.
It's during this time you and I are actually able to talk uninterupted. When we have these talks the distance doesn't seem so great and I let myself pretend we're the only people left in the entire world. Even though this part of the routine makes the rest of the day harder because of the fatigue it sometimes brings, I wouldn't trade it for anything. These are the moments I live for nowadays and your strength helps me find a way to soldier on.
After several hours, when we can no longer keep our eyes open, we say our goodnights and retire until the next day. I force myself to stay awake so I can burn the details of our conversation into my memory. Finally, sleep comes to claim me and 4 hours later the entire routine starts again.
I sit up on the couch, blankets and pillows piled all around me. I don't know why, but I can't sleep in my bed anymore, so I've grown quite fond of the living room. While in the shower, luke warm water cascades off of my face and always leaves me feeling unsatisfied. I dry off, step out and begin my routine. Gel in the hair, brushing of the teeth, deodorant and then I get dressed. This never changes unless I'm running so late I don't want to deal with my hair and rock a hat instead.
There's no enthusiasm during my daily ritual. It's just another thing I do nowadays. I've lost the drive in my life here that I used to have. I'm not sure how to get it back, or if I even really want to.
I'm in my car now, driving to work. When Russ Martin is on a commercial break I listen to songs from my MP3 player as loud as I can possibly stand. I never really feel like I've woken up; my mind still fresh with our conversation the night before.
At work I go through the motions. More is asked of me and I want to do less of it every day. It's hard, you know? When after so many years of soul searching you actually discover the things you want, it's painful when they're both half a country away.
I wish I was stong about this like you are. I never hear you say anything about how hard things are in your life. I admire your optimism and I promise I'm trying to be the same way, but, like I said, it's difficult.
I barely say anything in the conversations I have with people around me and they're always the same. I don't feel connected to the people here anymore and I question if I ever did. This perpetual disconnect only intesifies the dream like state in which I'm constantly finding myself.
I've tried to explain all of this, but I don't think anyone really understands. They simply tell me everyone has to do things they don't want to and this is where those conversations usually end. While this is inevitable in some instances, I think this defeatist attitude is what seperates myself from others around me.
I've never been one to settle, really. No one is guaranteed a very long time on this planet and once yours is up, that's all you get. I guess I've finally decided to use mine to pursue the things that make me happy and hold on to them once they are found.
These are just some of the thoughts that bounce back and forth through my head when working fails to hold my interest. Then, I get back in my car and turn the radio up so loud it annoys the motorist around me, but I don't care. This is the only joy I really get from being here these days.
Things are better at home, if only because it's easier to distract myself from the things which have weighed heavy on my mind. Eventually, after over 12 hours of watching the clock my favorite time of the day arrives.
It's during this time you and I are actually able to talk uninterupted. When we have these talks the distance doesn't seem so great and I let myself pretend we're the only people left in the entire world. Even though this part of the routine makes the rest of the day harder because of the fatigue it sometimes brings, I wouldn't trade it for anything. These are the moments I live for nowadays and your strength helps me find a way to soldier on.
After several hours, when we can no longer keep our eyes open, we say our goodnights and retire until the next day. I force myself to stay awake so I can burn the details of our conversation into my memory. Finally, sleep comes to claim me and 4 hours later the entire routine starts again.
Pictures II
A couple of nights ago she sent me a picture of herself in a bikini while at the beach. As happy as I was to see her in such a skimpy outfit I saw something even better hidden deep within the image. So I cropped it into a panaronic image of her face on the far left followed by nothing but blue. I saved it as the background to my work computer because her beauty keeps me going when times get rough and gives me a future worth looking forward to.
I realized through a conversation with her how she really doesn't have any pictures of me and started to feel guilty. On the way home I brainstormed about the different aspects of my personality I wanted to capture. As soon as I got home I ate and went straight to work. I had just finished taking the first set when my phone rang. It was Bobby from The Brooks Institute. (A film school I've recently applied for)
Him: Hey, Davlin. I just wanted to let you know I got the app, but we're missing an initial and we need to get it in as soon as possible.
Me: Sorry about that, Bobby. I'll get it back to you first thing in the morning.
Him: No worries, man. What are you doing?
This is when I told him about my project and he seemed into it.
Me: I've been experimenting with photography for awhile now and I really like it.
Him: Good, there's going to be a lot of that in your future.
He informed me the "Director of Admissions" (believe that was her title) wanted to call me to give me a second interview and I should be expecting to hear from her in a few days.
We then bullshitted for a bit and I thanked him for checking out my site.
Him: No problem, man. It's good. You've written some serious stuff.
Me: I appreciate that. And thanks again for everything else.
Him: No worries. We're gonna do everything we can to get you in. Have a good night; we'll talk later.
Me: You too, man. Thanks. Bye.
I think the timing's finally about to be right. I can feel the planets and stars shifting into place. We're already on our way and soon we'll be able to see each other in more than just pictures.
I realized through a conversation with her how she really doesn't have any pictures of me and started to feel guilty. On the way home I brainstormed about the different aspects of my personality I wanted to capture. As soon as I got home I ate and went straight to work. I had just finished taking the first set when my phone rang. It was Bobby from The Brooks Institute. (A film school I've recently applied for)
Him: Hey, Davlin. I just wanted to let you know I got the app, but we're missing an initial and we need to get it in as soon as possible.
Me: Sorry about that, Bobby. I'll get it back to you first thing in the morning.
Him: No worries, man. What are you doing?
This is when I told him about my project and he seemed into it.
Me: I've been experimenting with photography for awhile now and I really like it.
Him: Good, there's going to be a lot of that in your future.
He informed me the "Director of Admissions" (believe that was her title) wanted to call me to give me a second interview and I should be expecting to hear from her in a few days.
We then bullshitted for a bit and I thanked him for checking out my site.
Him: No problem, man. It's good. You've written some serious stuff.
Me: I appreciate that. And thanks again for everything else.
Him: No worries. We're gonna do everything we can to get you in. Have a good night; we'll talk later.
Me: You too, man. Thanks. Bye.
I think the timing's finally about to be right. I can feel the planets and stars shifting into place. We're already on our way and soon we'll be able to see each other in more than just pictures.
This is what I want: A proclamation
While in San Jose I attended a multi-media course for work. For 16 glorious hours I was able to learn about and experiment with things I truly have a passion for. My instructor had several years experience working at the BBC and he brought a fire to the course which kept everyone engaged.
Towards the middle of the second day he tasked us with filming an instructional video. The topic of my film was "How to use an elevator" and I was the only one who scouted the area first and already mapped out where to get the best shots. I teamed up with a 6 1/2 foot tall Swiss man and we became fast friends.
Let me paint the scene.
We're in the lobby of the Marriott around lunchtime, so the place is packed with busy executives and convention goers. I'm laying in the floor, shouting "Action" at my friend to walk down the hall way and "again" when someone walked into the back ground. Since filming elevators is tricky, we were constantly calling them, hopping in for a quick shot and then out to call another. Management finally came to ask us what hell we were doing. (we forgot to ask permission)
The whole experienced was rushed, chaotic and while it didn't turn out quite how I'd hoped, I loved every single fucking second of it.
My teacher played my video for the class and everyone loved it. He told me after that I had a raw talent for film and I needed to pursue it. That movie I made was less than a minute long, but it gave me more personal fulfillment that any other accomplishment in my entire professional career.
In the last week I've learned that I only want two things. I want to go to film school in California and I want her to come with me.
Towards the middle of the second day he tasked us with filming an instructional video. The topic of my film was "How to use an elevator" and I was the only one who scouted the area first and already mapped out where to get the best shots. I teamed up with a 6 1/2 foot tall Swiss man and we became fast friends.
Let me paint the scene.
We're in the lobby of the Marriott around lunchtime, so the place is packed with busy executives and convention goers. I'm laying in the floor, shouting "Action" at my friend to walk down the hall way and "again" when someone walked into the back ground. Since filming elevators is tricky, we were constantly calling them, hopping in for a quick shot and then out to call another. Management finally came to ask us what hell we were doing. (we forgot to ask permission)
The whole experienced was rushed, chaotic and while it didn't turn out quite how I'd hoped, I loved every single fucking second of it.
My teacher played my video for the class and everyone loved it. He told me after that I had a raw talent for film and I needed to pursue it. That movie I made was less than a minute long, but it gave me more personal fulfillment that any other accomplishment in my entire professional career.
In the last week I've learned that I only want two things. I want to go to film school in California and I want her to come with me.
Season
I'm sitting all alone,
in my apartment on a Saturday afternoon.
I feel like a loser,
but I've got no place else to go.
From my window I hear,
footsteps through halfway melted slush.
A firm reminder,
that winter will be over soon.
And then I'll be,
one more season closer to you.
in my apartment on a Saturday afternoon.
I feel like a loser,
but I've got no place else to go.
From my window I hear,
footsteps through halfway melted slush.
A firm reminder,
that winter will be over soon.
And then I'll be,
one more season closer to you.
We haven't been properly introduced. My names, Davlin. What's yours?
Over the last month I've really become immersed in tracking the stats of this blog. After doing the math I figure I've close to about 28 people who regularly follow my work. I currently have 14 people who follow it publicly and 2 in secret. (this both intrigues and irritates me)
Lately I find myself wondering about the other 12 I know nothing about. The only information I have are the countries they are from and all that does is further pique my curiosity.
If you do read my blog regularly drop me an email or sound off in the comments. I'm curious to know how you found this site, if anything really spoke to you and what makes you keep coming back.
You've spent a lot of time reading about my life, now I want to hear about yours.
Davlin
Lately I find myself wondering about the other 12 I know nothing about. The only information I have are the countries they are from and all that does is further pique my curiosity.
If you do read my blog regularly drop me an email or sound off in the comments. I'm curious to know how you found this site, if anything really spoke to you and what makes you keep coming back.
You've spent a lot of time reading about my life, now I want to hear about yours.
Davlin
Hello to my Canadian friend reading this on their Blackberry!
I just totally blew your mind didn't I?
Since that moment
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, buddy. I'm ok."
"You're just sad?"
"Yeah...I'm just sad."
"It's going to be ok, daddy. I love you." Our four year old son says as he embraces me with tiny arms made of wire. He's been having to comfort me like this a lot lately and it breaks my heart a little more each time.
I feel as if I'm failing him and your memory. I pray and go to church like I'm supposed to. I go to work everyday and support our child. All day long I stay strong, because I have to. Every night I sleep on the couch, because our bed is too big and it reminds me of what's missing. I also found that every time I slept in it, there was a little bit less or your scent still clinging to the unwashed sheets.
I think I died with you on that day in November. I remember it was the worst storm I'd ever seen and the roads outside were treacherous. Jeremy had a fever and we needed to get him something to take it down. We were still such new parents back then and didn't plan ahead for this, which left us staring out into the storm wondering what to do.
"Listen," I told you, "The drug store is right down the street. I'll go and be right back. It won't take 10 minutes."
"Allen, you've never driven on roads like this. I have. Besides, we don't even know if the store is open. I'm going to go and you're not going to fight me on this." Your eyes narrowed to show me your mind had been made up. Then they softened as you told me, "I'll be right back. I love you." Then you kissed me on the cheek and I never saw you again.
My life stopped when I received the news. It feels like ever since then I've never been able to move passed that moment. It's all as raw and painful as it was back then. I keep watching the driveway expecting your car to pull in or waiting for a phone call which will never come.
I look at Jeremy and he's growing up so fast. He asks about you and I'm able to remember a little bit less each time I tell him. Everything about you is fading away from me except the agony of your absence.
Now, he's holding me. Wishing he could make his daddy smile, take all of my pain away so we can be happy together. But he can't. And for that I am so, so sorry.
"Yeah, buddy. I'm ok."
"You're just sad?"
"Yeah...I'm just sad."
"It's going to be ok, daddy. I love you." Our four year old son says as he embraces me with tiny arms made of wire. He's been having to comfort me like this a lot lately and it breaks my heart a little more each time.
I feel as if I'm failing him and your memory. I pray and go to church like I'm supposed to. I go to work everyday and support our child. All day long I stay strong, because I have to. Every night I sleep on the couch, because our bed is too big and it reminds me of what's missing. I also found that every time I slept in it, there was a little bit less or your scent still clinging to the unwashed sheets.
I think I died with you on that day in November. I remember it was the worst storm I'd ever seen and the roads outside were treacherous. Jeremy had a fever and we needed to get him something to take it down. We were still such new parents back then and didn't plan ahead for this, which left us staring out into the storm wondering what to do.
"Listen," I told you, "The drug store is right down the street. I'll go and be right back. It won't take 10 minutes."
"Allen, you've never driven on roads like this. I have. Besides, we don't even know if the store is open. I'm going to go and you're not going to fight me on this." Your eyes narrowed to show me your mind had been made up. Then they softened as you told me, "I'll be right back. I love you." Then you kissed me on the cheek and I never saw you again.
My life stopped when I received the news. It feels like ever since then I've never been able to move passed that moment. It's all as raw and painful as it was back then. I keep watching the driveway expecting your car to pull in or waiting for a phone call which will never come.
I look at Jeremy and he's growing up so fast. He asks about you and I'm able to remember a little bit less each time I tell him. Everything about you is fading away from me except the agony of your absence.
Now, he's holding me. Wishing he could make his daddy smile, take all of my pain away so we can be happy together. But he can't. And for that I am so, so sorry.
An Inscrutable Conversation
CC, author of An Inscrutable Voyeur, just messaged me and it was one of the strangest conversations I've ever had.
CC: Can we talk?
Me: Sure. What's up?
CC: You said you've dealt with the supernatural. What happened to you?
Me: Well...bumps, voices, levitating objects, feelings of dread, attacks and molestations by things I can only describe as demons, an encounter with beings not of this world, multiple physical manifestations and a visit to hell. Though I'm not sure if that last one was genuine or the result of me taking two medicine cabinets worth of pills.
CC: Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?
Me: Was there a point to you messaging me or did you just want to be a judgmental prick?
CC: Oh, yeah. You know how some weird shit's been happening to me lately? It's gotten worse.
Me: How so?
CC: Well, about two hours ago I found another package. The words, "Watch ME", are written over it in black marker.
Me: Shit. Did you catch something on the surveillance tape?
CC: Yeah. I think I'm going crazy.
Me: What did you see?
CC: One moment there was nothing, then .02 seconds of static. Then it's just there. Nothing could move fast enough to put it there without being seen.
Me: I don't know what to say. Is there something wrong with the camera?
CC: There's nothing wrong with the fucking camera, okay? Something is happening to me and I don't know what to do.
Me: I think you need to watch it.
CC: Fuck that.
Me: Look, whatever is doing this isn't going to stop until it gets what it wants. The more you try to fight it, the more hostile it's going to become. Trust me on this one, watch it now or it's only going to get worse for you.
CC: I'm starting to lose my shit.
Me: That's understandable.
CC: I guess you're right, though. I'll watch it, but I need a day or two first.
Me: Keep me posted?
CC: Sure. Thanks for the advice or whatever it was.
Me: Before you leave, is it ok if I post this?
CC: Do you ever get a thought you don't have to post on the internet?
Me: Not lately, no.
CC: Fine, whatever.
CC: Can we talk?
Me: Sure. What's up?
CC: You said you've dealt with the supernatural. What happened to you?
Me: Well...bumps, voices, levitating objects, feelings of dread, attacks and molestations by things I can only describe as demons, an encounter with beings not of this world, multiple physical manifestations and a visit to hell. Though I'm not sure if that last one was genuine or the result of me taking two medicine cabinets worth of pills.
CC: Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?
Me: Was there a point to you messaging me or did you just want to be a judgmental prick?
CC: Oh, yeah. You know how some weird shit's been happening to me lately? It's gotten worse.
Me: How so?
CC: Well, about two hours ago I found another package. The words, "Watch ME", are written over it in black marker.
Me: Shit. Did you catch something on the surveillance tape?
CC: Yeah. I think I'm going crazy.
Me: What did you see?
CC: One moment there was nothing, then .02 seconds of static. Then it's just there. Nothing could move fast enough to put it there without being seen.
Me: I don't know what to say. Is there something wrong with the camera?
CC: There's nothing wrong with the fucking camera, okay? Something is happening to me and I don't know what to do.
Me: I think you need to watch it.
CC: Fuck that.
Me: Look, whatever is doing this isn't going to stop until it gets what it wants. The more you try to fight it, the more hostile it's going to become. Trust me on this one, watch it now or it's only going to get worse for you.
CC: I'm starting to lose my shit.
Me: That's understandable.
CC: I guess you're right, though. I'll watch it, but I need a day or two first.
Me: Keep me posted?
CC: Sure. Thanks for the advice or whatever it was.
Me: Before you leave, is it ok if I post this?
CC: Do you ever get a thought you don't have to post on the internet?
Me: Not lately, no.
CC: Fine, whatever.
Here's what I think
For the most part, there are two types of people in this world. There
are those who refuse to acknowledge the darkness and others who become
swallowed by it.
The first group will spend their whole lives running away from their
pain, but it always finds them because they never give themselves the
chance to learn from past mistakes.
The second instead focuses only on their loss and sadness. It's
impossible to enjoy the present or look forward to the future when you
spend every waking hour cursing your past.
I don't get along very well with either of these groups. The former
drops me when I need them the most and the latter is too wrapped up in
themselves to be of use to anyone else.
What makes us different is, while we both started out in one of these
groups, we've evolved beyond them. We both see the darkness in each
other and our selves and, while we do acknowledge them, we don't allow
it to consume us. We can see the beauty in the pain, because we
realize it's integral to learning who we are and become better people
as a result.
I think this is also the reason we compliment each other so well.
Whenever either of us starts to slip, the other is able to listen AND
understand.
are those who refuse to acknowledge the darkness and others who become
swallowed by it.
The first group will spend their whole lives running away from their
pain, but it always finds them because they never give themselves the
chance to learn from past mistakes.
The second instead focuses only on their loss and sadness. It's
impossible to enjoy the present or look forward to the future when you
spend every waking hour cursing your past.
I don't get along very well with either of these groups. The former
drops me when I need them the most and the latter is too wrapped up in
themselves to be of use to anyone else.
What makes us different is, while we both started out in one of these
groups, we've evolved beyond them. We both see the darkness in each
other and our selves and, while we do acknowledge them, we don't allow
it to consume us. We can see the beauty in the pain, because we
realize it's integral to learning who we are and become better people
as a result.
I think this is also the reason we compliment each other so well.
Whenever either of us starts to slip, the other is able to listen AND
understand.
Unexpected Hanging Paradox
Memories in the form of still images and text race through my head. An accelerated heartbeat and leaking eyes make it harder to focus. I'm rising and falling; my stomach takes permanent residence in my throat. People call and text but I don't want to talk tonight.
My mom didn't like my tone when we spoke and went into full on panic mode. She blew up my phone with texts demanding to know what was wrong. I love my mom, but there's some things she doesn't need to know about.
See, I have to be perfect. That's not just concerning mom, it's a lot of people. I'm not perfect, though. In fact, I'm pretty fucked up at times. Some people are waiting on me to snap again, while others will be crushed if I do. I have to stay strong and not give the first set an opening as well as avoid letting down the latter. It's exhausting.
I don't like people to see me when I get like this.
Music pulses through my headphones. My MP3 player knows me too well and always picks the right songs for the wrong times. The leaks from my eyes become torrents and soak the filter of my cigarette. I know I think too much and there's one thought in particular I can't seem to shake.
Are my emotions a gift or curse?
My mom didn't like my tone when we spoke and went into full on panic mode. She blew up my phone with texts demanding to know what was wrong. I love my mom, but there's some things she doesn't need to know about.
See, I have to be perfect. That's not just concerning mom, it's a lot of people. I'm not perfect, though. In fact, I'm pretty fucked up at times. Some people are waiting on me to snap again, while others will be crushed if I do. I have to stay strong and not give the first set an opening as well as avoid letting down the latter. It's exhausting.
I don't like people to see me when I get like this.
Music pulses through my headphones. My MP3 player knows me too well and always picks the right songs for the wrong times. The leaks from my eyes become torrents and soak the filter of my cigarette. I know I think too much and there's one thought in particular I can't seem to shake.
Are my emotions a gift or curse?
Notion # 88
I want to somehow end up with you watching animated Batman movies-This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.
Open mic dates
I know this is a long shot, but if you're in the San Jose area you should come out to the following open mics to see some of these performed live.
Cavin and Kings
Monday January 31st 6:30-10
201 Castro St Mountain View, CA 94041
Caffe Trieste
Tuesday February 1st starts at 10 (all night happy hour)
315 S 1st St San Jose, California 95113
Like I said, if you're in the area I'd love to see you. Also, if anyone has any suggestions for pieces I should read, I'd like to hear them.
Cavin and Kings
Monday January 31st 6:30-10
201 Castro St Mountain View, CA 94041
Caffe Trieste
Tuesday February 1st starts at 10 (all night happy hour)
315 S 1st St San Jose, California 95113
Like I said, if you're in the area I'd love to see you. Also, if anyone has any suggestions for pieces I should read, I'd like to hear them.
I smile
Me: I like the new look for my blog; it's dark but uplifting at the same time.
Her: Not unlike its author.
Her: Not unlike its author.
With that, I bid thee Goodnight.
In less than two days I'll be in California. My job is sending me there so I can take a Multi-media class and it's a very big deal. I've never done anything like this before and it makes me nervous.
I've seen enough "road trip" flicks to know that any time you're completely out there on your own Murphy's Law can and will fuck your shit up. But that's the worrier in me and I've barely slept all week. When this happens, the defenses keeping some of my lesser traits at bay are weakened.
My life has been a roller coaster since July and I'm completely spent. I think this will be good for me. Lately my life has become routine. It's a routine that works for me, don't get me wrong, but every once in awhile it's good to shake things up a bit.
Now, at last...
sleep...
I've seen enough "road trip" flicks to know that any time you're completely out there on your own Murphy's Law can and will fuck your shit up. But that's the worrier in me and I've barely slept all week. When this happens, the defenses keeping some of my lesser traits at bay are weakened.
My life has been a roller coaster since July and I'm completely spent. I think this will be good for me. Lately my life has become routine. It's a routine that works for me, don't get me wrong, but every once in awhile it's good to shake things up a bit.
Now, at last...
sleep...
The Lost Songs 3: Something Like Happiness (Epic Suck)
Written: 2002 during Senior Year. DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNNNNN
Inspiration: Hormones and horrible taste in women.
Author's note: This is the second song I'd ever written, way back before I knew what I was doing. With a lot of my high school work, I extract a few lines here and there and put them into better songs. I'm posting this one unedited. This means it's both long as shit AND fucking awful. If you can put this to music in its entirety and make it sound good, I'll send you something.
Something Like Happiness
How do you like that,
knowing that my station in life,
is trying to pay you back?
You like to think that,
the world rests upon your shoulders.
And the load only gets heavier,
as you continue to grow older.
Everyone relies on you,
that's just the way you felt.
Never realized that you need to,
take sometime out for yourself.
All I ever wanted was,
for you to be happy.
I guess that's impossible because,
you have all of this responsibility.
You're wasting away here,
this town is dragging you down.
Your biggest fear,
is that the world would fall apart as soon as you weren't around.
Chorus:
And I'm about ready to,
cut off all my ties to you.
Then you'll go your way,
and I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself every day,
by sayin that I'm fine.
End Chorus:
I don't wanna be stuck,
bein your third or fourth choice.
I don't wanna live my life,
without having a voice.
So I'm gonna use this time,
to tel you all my feelings because,
I've heard yours and now you're gonna hear mine.
Getting over you,
was the hardest thing,
I've ever had to do.
And I keep putting myself in,
the position to,
be hurt all over again.
Is it really worth it to,
keep trying to be your friend?
Or should I just count my losses,
and allowed my wounds to mend?
Where does this leave us?
Two broken homes, two broken hearts,
and a lot of broken trust.
So, what do I do,
when all your lies,
turn out to be true?
Chorus 1x:
You were everything,
I ever wanted and more.
But once again you're gone,
and I'm more alone than before.
You told me every night,
you cry yourself to sleep.
But with me you were all right,
there was no reason to weep.
You turned out to be,
everything that you hated.
Regardless of what you meant to me.
You could never learn to,
just appreciate it.
Why do I waste my breath,
on all the things I say?
When you made it abundantly clear,
my opinion doesn't matter anyway.
Chorus 1x:
So we'll go to,
one bad relationship to another.
The only reason I think they fail,
is because we're not with each other.
But maybe there's something I missed,
because you make me feel.
Something like happiness.
And I'm about ready to,
cut off all my ties to you.
Then you'll go your way.
And I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself everyday,
by sayin that I'm fine.
End:
What a whiny bitch.
Oh, you're still here. Seriously, you read it all? Wow...good for you.
Inspiration: Hormones and horrible taste in women.
Author's note: This is the second song I'd ever written, way back before I knew what I was doing. With a lot of my high school work, I extract a few lines here and there and put them into better songs. I'm posting this one unedited. This means it's both long as shit AND fucking awful. If you can put this to music in its entirety and make it sound good, I'll send you something.
Something Like Happiness
How do you like that,
knowing that my station in life,
is trying to pay you back?
You like to think that,
the world rests upon your shoulders.
And the load only gets heavier,
as you continue to grow older.
Everyone relies on you,
that's just the way you felt.
Never realized that you need to,
take sometime out for yourself.
All I ever wanted was,
for you to be happy.
I guess that's impossible because,
you have all of this responsibility.
You're wasting away here,
this town is dragging you down.
Your biggest fear,
is that the world would fall apart as soon as you weren't around.
Chorus:
And I'm about ready to,
cut off all my ties to you.
Then you'll go your way,
and I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself every day,
by sayin that I'm fine.
End Chorus:
I don't wanna be stuck,
bein your third or fourth choice.
I don't wanna live my life,
without having a voice.
So I'm gonna use this time,
to tel you all my feelings because,
I've heard yours and now you're gonna hear mine.
Getting over you,
was the hardest thing,
I've ever had to do.
And I keep putting myself in,
the position to,
be hurt all over again.
Is it really worth it to,
keep trying to be your friend?
Or should I just count my losses,
and allowed my wounds to mend?
Where does this leave us?
Two broken homes, two broken hearts,
and a lot of broken trust.
So, what do I do,
when all your lies,
turn out to be true?
Chorus 1x:
You were everything,
I ever wanted and more.
But once again you're gone,
and I'm more alone than before.
You told me every night,
you cry yourself to sleep.
But with me you were all right,
there was no reason to weep.
You turned out to be,
everything that you hated.
Regardless of what you meant to me.
You could never learn to,
just appreciate it.
Why do I waste my breath,
on all the things I say?
When you made it abundantly clear,
my opinion doesn't matter anyway.
Chorus 1x:
So we'll go to,
one bad relationship to another.
The only reason I think they fail,
is because we're not with each other.
But maybe there's something I missed,
because you make me feel.
Something like happiness.
And I'm about ready to,
cut off all my ties to you.
Then you'll go your way.
And I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself everyday,
by sayin that I'm fine.
End:
What a whiny bitch.
Oh, you're still here. Seriously, you read it all? Wow...good for you.
Notion #11
The other night I was playing video games and I missed all of the important parts, because I was talking to you. It didn't bother me in the slightest.
Hypothetical
Her: Look, we both know how we feel about each other, but you went too far.
Me: I know, I wasn't thinking. What I did was an act of spontaneity that I wholeheartedly admit was irresponsible.
Her: Irresponsible? That's putting it pretty fucking mildly. He threw me out. I'm homeless now, Davlin. Do you understand what I'm saying?
Me: I do. You can make it through this. I can help you.
Her: I've just been dumped and put out on my ass, because of you. The last thing I want in the world right now is to be shacked up with you.
Me: Listen, I'll help you find and get a place. It's the least I can do. If you never want to see me again after that, I completely understand.
*Awkward silence*
Me: I thought this was what you wanted.
Her: No. This is what you wanted. I wanted to leave when I was ready, on my own terms. You told me you were willing to wait. What happened to that?
Me: I was willing. I just wasn't able.
Her: I thought you were different.
Me: I am.
Her: Yeah, you're worse. You've fucked me over pretty bad on this one. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get passed it. I think it's best if we don't talk anymore.
Me: You can't mean...
Her: Goodbye, Davlin
Me: WAIT!
*click*
Me: FUCK!
Me: I know, I wasn't thinking. What I did was an act of spontaneity that I wholeheartedly admit was irresponsible.
Her: Irresponsible? That's putting it pretty fucking mildly. He threw me out. I'm homeless now, Davlin. Do you understand what I'm saying?
Me: I do. You can make it through this. I can help you.
Her: I've just been dumped and put out on my ass, because of you. The last thing I want in the world right now is to be shacked up with you.
Me: Listen, I'll help you find and get a place. It's the least I can do. If you never want to see me again after that, I completely understand.
*Awkward silence*
Me: I thought this was what you wanted.
Her: No. This is what you wanted. I wanted to leave when I was ready, on my own terms. You told me you were willing to wait. What happened to that?
Me: I was willing. I just wasn't able.
Her: I thought you were different.
Me: I am.
Her: Yeah, you're worse. You've fucked me over pretty bad on this one. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get passed it. I think it's best if we don't talk anymore.
Me: You can't mean...
Her: Goodbye, Davlin
Me: WAIT!
*click*
Me: FUCK!
Davlin's playlist: The story of my anomaly
I've spent over four hours on this playlist and I think it is my best one yet. So, pop them into your preferred music player, or at least read the lyrics.-The Mgmt.
1. Use Somebody-Kings of Leon
2. Could Well Be In-The Streets
3. Everything You Want-Vertical Horizon
4. Terrified Heart-Poe
5. Scarred-Kevin Rudolf
6. Survive-Rise Against
7. She's Got A Boyfriend Now-Bowling For Soup
8. I Miss You-Blink-182
9. Day Late Friend-Anberlin
10. Fine Again-Seether
11. Follow and Feel-Saosin
12. Who I Am Hates Who I've Been-Relient K
13. They All Fall Down-SR-71
14. Late Night Conversations-The Forecast
15. A Praise Chorus-Jimmy Eat World
16. So Impossible-Dashboard Confessional
17. In Never Snows In Florida-New Found Glory
18. Flaws-The Spill Canvas
19. Wondering-Good Charlotte
20. Annabella's Song-Everclear
1. Use Somebody-Kings of Leon
2. Could Well Be In-The Streets
3. Everything You Want-Vertical Horizon
4. Terrified Heart-Poe
5. Scarred-Kevin Rudolf
6. Survive-Rise Against
7. She's Got A Boyfriend Now-Bowling For Soup
8. I Miss You-Blink-182
9. Day Late Friend-Anberlin
10. Fine Again-Seether
11. Follow and Feel-Saosin
12. Who I Am Hates Who I've Been-Relient K
13. They All Fall Down-SR-71
14. Late Night Conversations-The Forecast
15. A Praise Chorus-Jimmy Eat World
16. So Impossible-Dashboard Confessional
17. In Never Snows In Florida-New Found Glory
18. Flaws-The Spill Canvas
19. Wondering-Good Charlotte
20. Annabella's Song-Everclear
I want all of you to get involved.
If you follow anything I do, you know how much I love the sound of my own voice. It's absolutely true and I think everyone should love theirs. Which brings me to the reason for this post.
I've been getting quite a surge in activity on my blog and now I want to hear from you. I've got all the capabilities to start up a podcast, but I want to do something unique. This is where you come in.
I'm looking for any kind of participation you want to bring to the table. You can send me something of yours to read on the air and I'll plug your blog as well. Is there anything you would like to ask me? Come on, if you've been reading this shit for an extended amount of time, you've got to have some questions. Now's your chance to get as honest of an answer as I can give. Or hell, call in and we'll chat. I just want to hear your voice any way you want to use it.
Email me at disenchantedyouths@gmail.com and we'll talk.
I've been getting quite a surge in activity on my blog and now I want to hear from you. I've got all the capabilities to start up a podcast, but I want to do something unique. This is where you come in.
I'm looking for any kind of participation you want to bring to the table. You can send me something of yours to read on the air and I'll plug your blog as well. Is there anything you would like to ask me? Come on, if you've been reading this shit for an extended amount of time, you've got to have some questions. Now's your chance to get as honest of an answer as I can give. Or hell, call in and we'll chat. I just want to hear your voice any way you want to use it.
Email me at disenchantedyouths@gmail.com and we'll talk.
The Lost Songs 2: Taste Him
Written: 2005 while living in SC
Inspiration: I was dating a girl who talked incessantly about her ex-boyfriend. I birthed this song when I'd finally had enough
Taste Him
You looked so beautiful,
in your Galaga t-shirt.
Talks about our pasts,
and how he treated you like dirt.
He’s always on the,
tip of your tongue.
It gets to the point that,
I can taste him while I’m kissing you.
Chorus:
Am I the one you think about,
when we do the dirty things we do?
When it’s late at night,
is it me you want on top of you?
Or am I just a pawn,
in this twisted little game?
Do you bite down on your lip,
just to keep from screaming out his name?
End Chorus:
The burnt out conversations,
don’t add up to much.
I just wish it was as easy,
to dismiss your touch.
There’s something,
terribly wrong with me.
It eats away,
bittersweet jealousy.
Chorus: 1x
My head is sick,
my heart is twisted now.
My soul much more fragile,
than you could ever know.
I don’t care what happens when,
you’re alone with him behind closed doors.
If that’s what you want,
then you’ve nothing to be sorry for.
But as for me,
I’ll just smoke some weed.
And then hopefully rub one out,
before I go to sleep.
Chorus 1x
End Song
Inspiration: I was dating a girl who talked incessantly about her ex-boyfriend. I birthed this song when I'd finally had enough
Taste Him
You looked so beautiful,
in your Galaga t-shirt.
Talks about our pasts,
and how he treated you like dirt.
He’s always on the,
tip of your tongue.
It gets to the point that,
I can taste him while I’m kissing you.
Chorus:
Am I the one you think about,
when we do the dirty things we do?
When it’s late at night,
is it me you want on top of you?
Or am I just a pawn,
in this twisted little game?
Do you bite down on your lip,
just to keep from screaming out his name?
End Chorus:
The burnt out conversations,
don’t add up to much.
I just wish it was as easy,
to dismiss your touch.
There’s something,
terribly wrong with me.
It eats away,
bittersweet jealousy.
Chorus: 1x
My head is sick,
my heart is twisted now.
My soul much more fragile,
than you could ever know.
I don’t care what happens when,
you’re alone with him behind closed doors.
If that’s what you want,
then you’ve nothing to be sorry for.
But as for me,
I’ll just smoke some weed.
And then hopefully rub one out,
before I go to sleep.
Chorus 1x
End Song
Another Stewart family memory
This discussion took place when my cousin, Cameron, was told he couldn't have a Coke.
Cameron: How come Davlin gets to have one, then?
Me: (As I take a swig) Because I'm a lost cause, there's still hope for you.
The End.
Cameron: How come Davlin gets to have one, then?
Me: (As I take a swig) Because I'm a lost cause, there's still hope for you.
The End.
A gaming memory: Fable 2
While playing Fable Two I experienced one of those rare moments you can only get in video games. Let me paint the scene for you.
I'm walking down a trail with my trusty dog, "Fart-Biscuit". He's been by my side since I was a young boy, ever since my sister's death. As we round a corner we come up to a man and woman in tattered clothes. Seeing as how I'm a teenager full of raging hormones, I throw out a pickup line and she swoons because she's only human. This angers the man she's with, who comes over to stand between us.
While scrolling through my action wheel, I discover I can interact with my dog. Since he's been such a loyal friend, I decide to praise him. My dog is at my left, but my avatar behaves as if he's right in front of me. Instead of praising my dog, I bend forward and speak baby talk directly into the man's crotch. Playing with the camera makes it dirtier.
Once I finish, a heart icon appears over his head and tells me I've increased his romantic interest. "That was sensational!" he tells me before walking off.
I laughed for a good 20 minutes.
I'm walking down a trail with my trusty dog, "Fart-Biscuit". He's been by my side since I was a young boy, ever since my sister's death. As we round a corner we come up to a man and woman in tattered clothes. Seeing as how I'm a teenager full of raging hormones, I throw out a pickup line and she swoons because she's only human. This angers the man she's with, who comes over to stand between us.
While scrolling through my action wheel, I discover I can interact with my dog. Since he's been such a loyal friend, I decide to praise him. My dog is at my left, but my avatar behaves as if he's right in front of me. Instead of praising my dog, I bend forward and speak baby talk directly into the man's crotch. Playing with the camera makes it dirtier.
Once I finish, a heart icon appears over his head and tells me I've increased his romantic interest. "That was sensational!" he tells me before walking off.
I laughed for a good 20 minutes.
With Time
I’m tossing and turning,
On the couch losing sleep over you again.
My fingers on the keyboard,
Wondering which confessions I should abstain.
Despite the distance and the facts,
Nothing in my life has felt this right.
I’d trade everything I have,
To fall asleep with you tonight.
As my vision starts to fade,
All I see is the beauty of your face.
Though I’ve only seen it in pictures,
They make me long for an embrace.
And now as I dream,
I see everything we could be.
Neither of us are perfect,
In fact we’re both a little bit crazy.
But this is the exact,
Reason I think the two of us would work.
I feel stronger because of you,
And I adore your every single little quirk.
When I finally awake,
You’re the one that’s on my mind.
And I truly hope,
The rest will fall into place with time.
Bonus Lines!
I couldn't ask for,
anything more than this.
We never wanted,
To seek His forgiveness.
On the couch losing sleep over you again.
My fingers on the keyboard,
Wondering which confessions I should abstain.
Despite the distance and the facts,
Nothing in my life has felt this right.
I’d trade everything I have,
To fall asleep with you tonight.
As my vision starts to fade,
All I see is the beauty of your face.
Though I’ve only seen it in pictures,
They make me long for an embrace.
And now as I dream,
I see everything we could be.
Neither of us are perfect,
In fact we’re both a little bit crazy.
But this is the exact,
Reason I think the two of us would work.
I feel stronger because of you,
And I adore your every single little quirk.
When I finally awake,
You’re the one that’s on my mind.
And I truly hope,
The rest will fall into place with time.
Bonus Lines!
I couldn't ask for,
anything more than this.
We never wanted,
To seek His forgiveness.
Davlin's playlist: The Essential Brand New
A collection of my favorite Brand New tunes, arranged to tell a story.
1. I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light-Deja-Entendu
2. Brother-Fight Off Your Demons
3. Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades-Deja-Entendu
4. Seventy Times 7-Your Favorite Weapon
5. Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't-Deja Entendu
6. Jesus-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
7. Guernica-Deja Entendu
8. Good Man-Fight Off Your Demons
9. The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows-Deja Entendu
10. The Edge Takes Over For Vin-Fight Off Your Demon
11. Limosine (MS Rebridge)-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
12. Bought A Bride-Daisy
13. Sowing Season-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
14. At The Bottom-Daisy
15. Failure By Design-Your Favorite Weapon
16. Degausser-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
17. Good To Know If I Ever Needed Attention All I Have To Do Is Die-Deja Entendu
18. You Won't Know-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
19. Daisy-Daisy
20. Missing You To Death-Fight Off Your Demons
1. I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light-Deja-Entendu
2. Brother-Fight Off Your Demons
3. Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades-Deja-Entendu
4. Seventy Times 7-Your Favorite Weapon
5. Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't-Deja Entendu
6. Jesus-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
7. Guernica-Deja Entendu
8. Good Man-Fight Off Your Demons
9. The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows-Deja Entendu
10. The Edge Takes Over For Vin-Fight Off Your Demon
11. Limosine (MS Rebridge)-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
12. Bought A Bride-Daisy
13. Sowing Season-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
14. At The Bottom-Daisy
15. Failure By Design-Your Favorite Weapon
16. Degausser-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
17. Good To Know If I Ever Needed Attention All I Have To Do Is Die-Deja Entendu
18. You Won't Know-The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
19. Daisy-Daisy
20. Missing You To Death-Fight Off Your Demons
While stumbling...
I came across "The AOLer Translator".
Description taken from site:
This translator will take what you write in it and turn it into the manner a 12-year-old AOLer would write it. Type in what you want translated and then click the button.
I thought it sounded like fun. Here's the message I wanted to see translated:
"These past two years have shown me; I can't live without you. You are the fire which drives me. Whenever I feel lost, all I have to do is look into your eyes. I love you so much, baby. Please, take me back."
Here's what "The AOLer Translator" regurgitated back at me.
"THES3 PAST TWO YEARS HAEV SHOWN MA I CANT LIEV WITHOUT U!!11!! WTF U R DA FIER WHICH DRIEVS M3!1!!111!! OMG LOL WHENEV3R I FEL LOST AL I HAEV 2 DO SI LOK IN2 UR EY3S!!!!!!!1 WTF LOL I LUV U SO MUCH BABY!!1!11!1 OMG PLZ TAEK MA BAK!1!1!11!"
Well, there ya go. Thanks internet.
Description taken from site:
This translator will take what you write in it and turn it into the manner a 12-year-old AOLer would write it. Type in what you want translated and then click the button.
I thought it sounded like fun. Here's the message I wanted to see translated:
"These past two years have shown me; I can't live without you. You are the fire which drives me. Whenever I feel lost, all I have to do is look into your eyes. I love you so much, baby. Please, take me back."
Here's what "The AOLer Translator" regurgitated back at me.
"THES3 PAST TWO YEARS HAEV SHOWN MA I CANT LIEV WITHOUT U!!11!! WTF U R DA FIER WHICH DRIEVS M3!1!!111!! OMG LOL WHENEV3R I FEL LOST AL I HAEV 2 DO SI LOK IN2 UR EY3S!!!!!!!1 WTF LOL I LUV U SO MUCH BABY!!1!11!1 OMG PLZ TAEK MA BAK!1!1!11!"
Well, there ya go. Thanks internet.
Scattered Thoughts: On Tour (Kind of)
I'm going to have to do a bit of traveling over the next several weeks for work. Here's what my schedule is looking like.
Jan 30th-Feb 2: San Jose, CA
Feb 5-7: Houston, TX
Feb 7-11: Lafayette, LA
Now, during this time I'm trying to find as many open mics as I can and I'll let you guys know when the details are solid. If anyone lives close to these areas, message me and maybe we can meet up.
Jan 30th-Feb 2: San Jose, CA
Feb 5-7: Houston, TX
Feb 7-11: Lafayette, LA
Now, during this time I'm trying to find as many open mics as I can and I'll let you guys know when the details are solid. If anyone lives close to these areas, message me and maybe we can meet up.
Davlin's playlist: The Perfect Drive
1. Summerland-Everclear
2. Coffee And Cigarettes-Jimmy Eat World
3. Be My Escape-Relient K
4. Pure Morning-Placebo
5. No 5-Hollywood Undead
6. Hip Hop Misfits-The Dirty Heads
7. This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race-Fallout Boy
8. Set By Example-Twiztid
9. Faster-Violent J
10. Devil On My Shoulder-Billy Talent
11. Los Angeles-Sugarcult
12. Heartless-Kanye West
13. Handlebars-Flobots
14. X Amount Of Words-Blue October
15. Daisy-Brand New
16. Tiny Vessels-Deathcab for Cutie
17. Audience Of One-Rise Against
18. Back Against The Wall-Cage The Elephant
19. What I Got-Sublime
20. The Night Will Go As Follows-The Spill Canvas
2. Coffee And Cigarettes-Jimmy Eat World
3. Be My Escape-Relient K
4. Pure Morning-Placebo
5. No 5-Hollywood Undead
6. Hip Hop Misfits-The Dirty Heads
7. This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race-Fallout Boy
8. Set By Example-Twiztid
9. Faster-Violent J
10. Devil On My Shoulder-Billy Talent
11. Los Angeles-Sugarcult
12. Heartless-Kanye West
13. Handlebars-Flobots
14. X Amount Of Words-Blue October
15. Daisy-Brand New
16. Tiny Vessels-Deathcab for Cutie
17. Audience Of One-Rise Against
18. Back Against The Wall-Cage The Elephant
19. What I Got-Sublime
20. The Night Will Go As Follows-The Spill Canvas
The moment I knew I was meant to be a writer. 200th Blog!
Things were kind of rough growing up. One of the reasons for this is I had to move so many times during the first 6 years of my academic career. In kindergarten alone, I went to two different schools. Looking back, I understand why things happened the way they did. Mom was a single parent raising two boys and struggling to pay rent, so we had to adapt a nomadic lifestyle.
I couldn't make any friends growing up, because I was never given the chance to learn how. This meant I spent a lot of my formative years in total isolation with only my action figures for companions. I know it sounds like a pretty pathetic childhood, but it yielded some positive results.
First, it was during these years when I fell in love with the written word. I learned to read from my brother's Hooked On Phonics when he quit in frustration and never stopped. Nothing in my life has ever compared to the first time I entered the school library in Kindergarten. From that point on, it became my sanctuary no matter what school I attended. I would gorge myself on the books within, spending hours developing my imagination. My first favorite book series was "Hank the Cowdog" but I quickly dove into material far beyond my age level.
Second, I had to put all of my efforts into my schoolwork in order to keep up with the constantly changing learning environments. Since I didn't have the distractions of friends or a social life, I excelled in my studies. This was the only thing I took pride in, besides my action figures.
Then in September of fifth grade, life with my mom got pretty rough and I moved in with my dad. The first couple of weeks in class at my new school I was a ghost. I'd learned to blend in, rarely making an impression on anyone. (I still remember every one I made, too) I've never been athletic and I failed to impress the other kids in the school yard with my high school reading level.
That all changed in November of the same year.
The teacher, who hadn't learned my name yet, told us to write a story about a turkey for Thanksgiving. She also gave us a paper one to decorate as well. I've always loved comic books and they served as my inspiration. I told the story of Tom Turkey, who dressed up in a Batman Halloween costume and busted out of his farm right before Thanksgiving. I even worked in the theme song from the '60s series. I decorated my turkey in full costume, holding a batarang. It was glorious.
I turned it in and without giving it a single thought. I simply wrote a story I wanted to read. A classmate of mine was a writer for the school newspaper and read it by recommendation of our teacher. To my elation, the next issue featured my story. For that one day, and the first time of my life, everyone knew I existed. After that my celebrity status faded when this couple held hands for the first time, but I never forgot the feeling.
The next time I picked up a pen and took it seriously was in my senior year. This was the second hardest year of my life, with so many twists and mindfucks it took several more years to recover. I was really big into Emo Punk at the time and they inspired me to start writing songs. Some were over four pages long and are painful to revisit, but I filled a spiral with them. After six months of practice I wrote "A Time of Innocence", which mourned the loss of the person I could never be again. It's also one of my all time favorite pieces I have written.
I started showing it to my peers and they loved it, often wanting to see more. That's when I knew I was meant to be a writer. 15 years later, I'm still connecting to people by writing things I would like to read. I honestly can't think of anything better.
P.S. I recently found out my dad still has the school newspaper featuring the adventure of BatTurkey. If anyone's interested, let me know and I'll put it up.
I couldn't make any friends growing up, because I was never given the chance to learn how. This meant I spent a lot of my formative years in total isolation with only my action figures for companions. I know it sounds like a pretty pathetic childhood, but it yielded some positive results.
First, it was during these years when I fell in love with the written word. I learned to read from my brother's Hooked On Phonics when he quit in frustration and never stopped. Nothing in my life has ever compared to the first time I entered the school library in Kindergarten. From that point on, it became my sanctuary no matter what school I attended. I would gorge myself on the books within, spending hours developing my imagination. My first favorite book series was "Hank the Cowdog" but I quickly dove into material far beyond my age level.
Second, I had to put all of my efforts into my schoolwork in order to keep up with the constantly changing learning environments. Since I didn't have the distractions of friends or a social life, I excelled in my studies. This was the only thing I took pride in, besides my action figures.
Then in September of fifth grade, life with my mom got pretty rough and I moved in with my dad. The first couple of weeks in class at my new school I was a ghost. I'd learned to blend in, rarely making an impression on anyone. (I still remember every one I made, too) I've never been athletic and I failed to impress the other kids in the school yard with my high school reading level.
That all changed in November of the same year.
The teacher, who hadn't learned my name yet, told us to write a story about a turkey for Thanksgiving. She also gave us a paper one to decorate as well. I've always loved comic books and they served as my inspiration. I told the story of Tom Turkey, who dressed up in a Batman Halloween costume and busted out of his farm right before Thanksgiving. I even worked in the theme song from the '60s series. I decorated my turkey in full costume, holding a batarang. It was glorious.
I turned it in and without giving it a single thought. I simply wrote a story I wanted to read. A classmate of mine was a writer for the school newspaper and read it by recommendation of our teacher. To my elation, the next issue featured my story. For that one day, and the first time of my life, everyone knew I existed. After that my celebrity status faded when this couple held hands for the first time, but I never forgot the feeling.
The next time I picked up a pen and took it seriously was in my senior year. This was the second hardest year of my life, with so many twists and mindfucks it took several more years to recover. I was really big into Emo Punk at the time and they inspired me to start writing songs. Some were over four pages long and are painful to revisit, but I filled a spiral with them. After six months of practice I wrote "A Time of Innocence", which mourned the loss of the person I could never be again. It's also one of my all time favorite pieces I have written.
I started showing it to my peers and they loved it, often wanting to see more. That's when I knew I was meant to be a writer. 15 years later, I'm still connecting to people by writing things I would like to read. I honestly can't think of anything better.
P.S. I recently found out my dad still has the school newspaper featuring the adventure of BatTurkey. If anyone's interested, let me know and I'll put it up.
Feel. Release. Heal.
I'll be the first to admit my website is not exactly user friendly. You can't access it from your iphone, everything seems random, it's dark and after awhile it kind of messes with your head. None of this is by accident. I've spent over 200 hours meticulously crafting each page. Every single pixel tells a story.
See, I've been writing for over 8 years now and it's the only thing I've ever been truly passionate about. It's what keeps my mind racing at four in the morning, making sleep impossible. I wanted to share my work with the world, but nothing I was trying seemed to work.
That's when I remembered,
I bought a subscription to Wix over a year ago, created a mock up and then quit. The image on the home page, however, haunted me. In its center was a broken TV screen playing static. It was time to give it a fair shot.
Look over to your right at the "archives" menu and find Sept and Oct of last year. The reason the number of posts were so low then was because I was in a frenzy. The whole process was agonizing, cleansing, and when it was finished I had never felt more accomplished.
Most websites, despite their entertainment or production levels, are pretty much the same. I wanted to do something different. I wanted something that not only stood out enough to catch people's interest for at least five minutes, but would also have the substance to keep them coming back.
First, I made it dark to set the mood. The TV plays a symbolic role, but it's also there for functionality. We're more willing to stare at a TV than a book nowadays, this helps people focus on what I want them to see. The stuff in the margins is to catch your eye, should it happen to wander.
Second, I have no plans for it to be iphone compatible, because that's why I have this here blog. With the site, I don't want you to be distracted. You're supposed to take your time and wear headphones. I want you to allow yourself to be totally immersed in what you are reading/hearing/watching. Trust me, it makes it so much better.
Third, The order of the menu buttons is crucial. In order to get the full effect, you should go through them from top to bottom. Here's a brief description of each, cos I'm feeling wordy.
"Intro"-I had an original intro video, but it was a little long. (found on "F.R.H. TV" page) Now, there's an artistic shot of the business card I've been leaving places. The words revolving it tell many stories.
"Home"-This is where you can go to find out what's been recently added to the 'This just in' section on the right hand side. Also a message from me, Davlin, to you, you.
"Script"-Ok, this page is massive and may take several minutes to load up. This is because it contains an entire book, which is essentially the "best of" from my eight years of writing. The website is its words brought to life. The more you read of it, the more you'll notice its nuances hidden in everything you see. For optimal effect; listen along with, or read the read lyrics to every song as it's mentioned. They are just as crucial to my story as the pieces I have written. Oh, the pictures contain secrets and messages, too.
"Ch. 3 F. R. H. TV"-This page features videos of my performances, interviews, user submissions and some nonsense.
"Audile"-This is where I house MP3s of my spoken word. Headphones are essential, because, since I'm still new at this, the volume isn't as high as it should be. There's also a few pieces here that are not found in "Script".
"Find Your Voice"-This is the comments page. Speaking your mind is always encouraged.
"Sister Stations"-Links to my blog, youtube channel, facebook page and, for some reason, myspace.
Fourth, I wanted to let people who didn't want to go through all of that bullshit just because they found a business card a place where they could still get on for a few minutes, enjoy and go about their day.
The last thing I wanted is the most important, though. I know what it's like to feel alone, depressed and like things will never get better. I don't think anyone should have to go through that, but if they do it shouldn't be by themselves.
I created the site to show others how cathartic an outlet writing can be. I would love to do another page, similar to "Script", based on user submissions.
I guess the whole point of this is I want to help people, but the only thing I have to offer is words...
bled out onto a page.
See, I've been writing for over 8 years now and it's the only thing I've ever been truly passionate about. It's what keeps my mind racing at four in the morning, making sleep impossible. I wanted to share my work with the world, but nothing I was trying seemed to work.
That's when I remembered,
I bought a subscription to Wix over a year ago, created a mock up and then quit. The image on the home page, however, haunted me. In its center was a broken TV screen playing static. It was time to give it a fair shot.
Look over to your right at the "archives" menu and find Sept and Oct of last year. The reason the number of posts were so low then was because I was in a frenzy. The whole process was agonizing, cleansing, and when it was finished I had never felt more accomplished.
Most websites, despite their entertainment or production levels, are pretty much the same. I wanted to do something different. I wanted something that not only stood out enough to catch people's interest for at least five minutes, but would also have the substance to keep them coming back.
First, I made it dark to set the mood. The TV plays a symbolic role, but it's also there for functionality. We're more willing to stare at a TV than a book nowadays, this helps people focus on what I want them to see. The stuff in the margins is to catch your eye, should it happen to wander.
Second, I have no plans for it to be iphone compatible, because that's why I have this here blog. With the site, I don't want you to be distracted. You're supposed to take your time and wear headphones. I want you to allow yourself to be totally immersed in what you are reading/hearing/watching. Trust me, it makes it so much better.
Third, The order of the menu buttons is crucial. In order to get the full effect, you should go through them from top to bottom. Here's a brief description of each, cos I'm feeling wordy.
"Intro"-I had an original intro video, but it was a little long. (found on "F.R.H. TV" page) Now, there's an artistic shot of the business card I've been leaving places. The words revolving it tell many stories.
"Home"-This is where you can go to find out what's been recently added to the 'This just in' section on the right hand side. Also a message from me, Davlin, to you, you.
"Script"-Ok, this page is massive and may take several minutes to load up. This is because it contains an entire book, which is essentially the "best of" from my eight years of writing. The website is its words brought to life. The more you read of it, the more you'll notice its nuances hidden in everything you see. For optimal effect; listen along with, or read the read lyrics to every song as it's mentioned. They are just as crucial to my story as the pieces I have written. Oh, the pictures contain secrets and messages, too.
"Ch. 3 F. R. H. TV"-This page features videos of my performances, interviews, user submissions and some nonsense.
"Audile"-This is where I house MP3s of my spoken word. Headphones are essential, because, since I'm still new at this, the volume isn't as high as it should be. There's also a few pieces here that are not found in "Script".
"Find Your Voice"-This is the comments page. Speaking your mind is always encouraged.
"Sister Stations"-Links to my blog, youtube channel, facebook page and, for some reason, myspace.
Fourth, I wanted to let people who didn't want to go through all of that bullshit just because they found a business card a place where they could still get on for a few minutes, enjoy and go about their day.
The last thing I wanted is the most important, though. I know what it's like to feel alone, depressed and like things will never get better. I don't think anyone should have to go through that, but if they do it shouldn't be by themselves.
I created the site to show others how cathartic an outlet writing can be. I would love to do another page, similar to "Script", based on user submissions.
I guess the whole point of this is I want to help people, but the only thing I have to offer is words...
bled out onto a page.
Life on stage: Enough Foreplay
I started performing my spoken word during open mics at Mochalux, a coffee shop an hour away from where I lived. I only went to one of them alone and it was one of my favorite performances there.
After a couple of months of it I was sick of the whole scene. But I hated my room mate more, so I went every weekend to get out of the apartment. On the way there I questioned what I was still getting out of going. The only people who were listening to me were my friends and that defeated the purpose of trying to expand my audience.
There was, however, the rare occasion when I locked eyes with a stranger as I'm tearing out their heart and I'd see the recognition. It might only be a moment, but in it we are feeling the same thing because of words I had written. It's the only time I feel like I make an actual connection with another human being. I don't want to talk to them after I'm offstage, though. I'm happy with that one moment, because it alone is more than any of us could ask for.
Back on track.
So, like I said, I went to this gig by myself. This was a very big deal, because I'd never performed without the crutch of a familiar face. Halfway there, I chickened out. I decided I wasn't going to perform, because it'd be good for me to see it from the audience's perspective. Yeah, that works.
When I got there, I grabbed a few pages from my passenger seat without looking at them before heading up to the door.
I entered the coffee shop and said hi to Paul, the guy who runs the open mic.
"Hey, Paul."
"Davlin, how's it goin? You wanna sign up?"
"Nah, I just came here to watch tonight."
"Oh, um...ok."
And that was that.
I ordered my White Chocolate Mocha, made small pleasantries with some of the other regulars and took a seat at a table by myself. The only other people in the place were a couple of snooty looking older women, and a mother with her two daughters. A few the regulars performed, two of which were favorites. What I liked about that night, was no one changed their acts because of the other people in the venue. They cursed and talked about dirty things with children ten feet in front of them. The snooty bitches scoffed and said that the performers should be ashamed of themselves. When their sets were over I applauded them with great fervor. It reminded me why I love open mics.
Snooty bitch #1 went up and sang a christian/opera diddy. When it was finally over, I realized why I hated open mics. I was also shocked that they stayed to see the rest of the show.
Then one of the little girls was called up. She brought her boombox and pressed play. A catchy pop song that everyone despises, but I can't remember the name of, came on and this little girl sang along with it. She danced a routine you know she was rehearsing in the mirror right before she came. When it was over, she hit stop, picked up her boombox and skipped off the stage. I fucking hated this little girl. Why? Hold up, it's coming.
"And now, Davlin. Hey, Davlin? Are you gonna do something for us?" Paul called from the stage.
I looked at the pages I had taken from my passenger seat. The only thing I had to follow the cutest goddamned thing any of us had ever seen was "Let's Get Political". (Posted here on 12/08 Read it before proceeding to get the full effect of the story)
"Alright, fuck it!" I shouted from the back of the shop as I stood up to head to the stage. By the time I got there the mother had already dragged her daughters out the door.
I stood on the stage and scanned the crowd. When I speak in front of an audience, I look every person there in the eyes at least once. This makes them feel that at some point I'm talking to them.
"I wasn't planning on performing tonight, but since I'm up here I'm going to have a little bit of fun. I wrote this piece last year on Election Day and I think it still holds up. Alright, enough foreplay. Let's get political."
The second I finished the title I zeroed in on snooty bitch #1 who made me listen to her shitty song. This particular piece is written from the perspective of the apathetic youth of today. It's bitter, angry and everything else that keeps Bill O'Reilly up at night. I spat all that anger out into this woman's face. I put so much feeling in the piece's one F bomb, she recoiled from its impact. Her eyes widened with fear, because she knew the anti-Christ was here and he was me. (not really, though. I'm just as good an actor as she is conservative)The only sound in the establishment, other than my voice, was Paul, somewhere to my left, laughing his ass off. Everyone else stared at me, aghast
When I was finished, I hopped offstage and left.
That night reminded me why I love open mics. You can say whatever you want and people have to listen, because you have a microphone.
After a couple of months of it I was sick of the whole scene. But I hated my room mate more, so I went every weekend to get out of the apartment. On the way there I questioned what I was still getting out of going. The only people who were listening to me were my friends and that defeated the purpose of trying to expand my audience.
There was, however, the rare occasion when I locked eyes with a stranger as I'm tearing out their heart and I'd see the recognition. It might only be a moment, but in it we are feeling the same thing because of words I had written. It's the only time I feel like I make an actual connection with another human being. I don't want to talk to them after I'm offstage, though. I'm happy with that one moment, because it alone is more than any of us could ask for.
Back on track.
So, like I said, I went to this gig by myself. This was a very big deal, because I'd never performed without the crutch of a familiar face. Halfway there, I chickened out. I decided I wasn't going to perform, because it'd be good for me to see it from the audience's perspective. Yeah, that works.
When I got there, I grabbed a few pages from my passenger seat without looking at them before heading up to the door.
I entered the coffee shop and said hi to Paul, the guy who runs the open mic.
"Hey, Paul."
"Davlin, how's it goin? You wanna sign up?"
"Nah, I just came here to watch tonight."
"Oh, um...ok."
And that was that.
I ordered my White Chocolate Mocha, made small pleasantries with some of the other regulars and took a seat at a table by myself. The only other people in the place were a couple of snooty looking older women, and a mother with her two daughters. A few the regulars performed, two of which were favorites. What I liked about that night, was no one changed their acts because of the other people in the venue. They cursed and talked about dirty things with children ten feet in front of them. The snooty bitches scoffed and said that the performers should be ashamed of themselves. When their sets were over I applauded them with great fervor. It reminded me why I love open mics.
Snooty bitch #1 went up and sang a christian/opera diddy. When it was finally over, I realized why I hated open mics. I was also shocked that they stayed to see the rest of the show.
Then one of the little girls was called up. She brought her boombox and pressed play. A catchy pop song that everyone despises, but I can't remember the name of, came on and this little girl sang along with it. She danced a routine you know she was rehearsing in the mirror right before she came. When it was over, she hit stop, picked up her boombox and skipped off the stage. I fucking hated this little girl. Why? Hold up, it's coming.
"And now, Davlin. Hey, Davlin? Are you gonna do something for us?" Paul called from the stage.
I looked at the pages I had taken from my passenger seat. The only thing I had to follow the cutest goddamned thing any of us had ever seen was "Let's Get Political". (Posted here on 12/08 Read it before proceeding to get the full effect of the story)
"Alright, fuck it!" I shouted from the back of the shop as I stood up to head to the stage. By the time I got there the mother had already dragged her daughters out the door.
I stood on the stage and scanned the crowd. When I speak in front of an audience, I look every person there in the eyes at least once. This makes them feel that at some point I'm talking to them.
"I wasn't planning on performing tonight, but since I'm up here I'm going to have a little bit of fun. I wrote this piece last year on Election Day and I think it still holds up. Alright, enough foreplay. Let's get political."
The second I finished the title I zeroed in on snooty bitch #1 who made me listen to her shitty song. This particular piece is written from the perspective of the apathetic youth of today. It's bitter, angry and everything else that keeps Bill O'Reilly up at night. I spat all that anger out into this woman's face. I put so much feeling in the piece's one F bomb, she recoiled from its impact. Her eyes widened with fear, because she knew the anti-Christ was here and he was me. (not really, though. I'm just as good an actor as she is conservative)The only sound in the establishment, other than my voice, was Paul, somewhere to my left, laughing his ass off. Everyone else stared at me, aghast
When I was finished, I hopped offstage and left.
That night reminded me why I love open mics. You can say whatever you want and people have to listen, because you have a microphone.
My time in the mental hospital: Part 2 The first night
With one hand holding the waist of my pants and the other holding a small duffel bag, I took small, awkward steps steps through the empty halls. The orderly leading me explained the situation regarding my placement and tried to prepare me for how to handle the things I was going to see. He was a young guy and he was quiet when he spoke.
"You'll be out of this wing soon, couple of days tops. Just keep your head down and try not to excite anyone."
"Duly noted."
The door to my wing opened and there while there were no patients in sight, I could hear them wailing in the back. We approached the front desk which was connected to the normal wing. I looked to my right to see an older woman with matted hair standing in the hallway and pressing her face into the wall.
The orderly takes my duffel bag for inspection and I was taken to a room for a proper medical screening. They asked me why I was there and I told them about the breakup. How seeing her everyday tore me up inside, but didn't affect her in the slightest. I would have rather she hated me, because it was her apathy that was doing me in.
"Uh-huh." Was his response.
Then I just started throwing out more random traumatic memories, things I torture myself with every single day.
"Uh-huh." Was his response.
After I made the cute female nurse leave, I asked him about an embarrassing health issue. His eyes visibly clicked with recognition as the final piece of the puzzle slid into place and he understood why I was there.
"Now, I can't help you with that. But, I don't think you're crazy. Depressed, sure, but you're not insane. You are, however, about to see crazy."
I go back to the front desk and I ask if I can go smoke. Thankfully, they say it's OK and point to the door. The smoke room was a big wooden box with benches built along the walls. Also on the walls, were years of mad ramblings carved into their surface which you could get lost in for hours.
The first time I entered the box I was not alone, there were two other guys there with me. One was a cheerful middle age white guy who said, "They, call me joker, or smiley. Cos, I'm always smilin'. He wasn't lying, cat always had a smile carved onto his face. His eyes never smiled with his lips, they hid much more malevolent emotions.
The second was an emaciated black man in his thirties. He introduced himself by many names, one of which was Joseph. He was a prophet who spoke to Jesus Christ.
I lit my cig and savored the first drag before asking, "Whatcha guys doin'?"
Joseph looked at me, "We're reading the word of God. You're a believer aren't you?"
"You know," I squeaked, "religion is very complicated. There are lot of things you have to really think about."
"Not it isn't." Joseph's eyes flashed with wrath, "You're either with us, or with them." He points to the nursing station. "They get bled like pigs."
"Oh, um...I love Jesus. So much."
"Good." Joker finally chimed in. "Cos, see we can't read so good and you talk like you can. Come sit next to us and read the word of God."
"Yes. Great idea." I wasn't relieved by Joseph's approval.
I sat down in between them and a bible was thrust into my lap. I don't remember what I read to them, but I do remember thinking the experience was the personification of my feelings regarding organized religion, particularly Christianity.
The orderly who brought me in came outside right when the guys were telling me their deranged take on the passage I'd just read.
"We need you back inside."
"Thank you so much, man. I was getting worried." I said once the door was closed behind us.
"That was about to turn into a situation. Those two are the two most dangerous patients here. Don't turn your back on them."
"Joseph said people will be bled like pigs."
"Yeah, he says that."
He informs me my bag has passed inspection, my door is to remain open at all times, the rooms are monitored and I will be given a pill to help me sleep. He doesn't tell me what it is and I don't ask.
"What do you want to drink?" he asks. "We've got apple juice, orange juice, milk, chocolate milk..."
"Chocolate milk!" I say with the enthusiasm of a five year old.
He gives me two, which is more than I want, but I pop the pill and chug em both down because I doubt I'll have a minifridge in my room. Once I'm nauseous from the mixture of too much dairy and old Mexican food, he tells me where to find my room.
As I walk the halls I don't dare look into any of the open rooms, for fear at what I might find. I finally reach mine and when I cross its threshold I get a horrifying view of the woman from the hallway staring at me while completely naked. An involuntary burp filled my mouth with a concoction of fajitas, chocolate milk and vomit.
"This is my room!" She tells me as she stomps her foot.
"Okie-dokie." Was all I could come up with before I left.
I tell the orderly, "There's a naked woman in my room. This is the first time in my life I'm not stoked to say that sentence."
"Oh, um...ok. Take the one across from her, I'm pretty sure it's empty."
"Awesome, thanks."
My new room was empty, but being forced to sleep with the door open meant it didn't make me feel any more reassured. I put my clothes in the cubby hole they gave me and brought my personal effects and put them in the nightstand by my bed. These effects included, one notebook and one pen. Both were given to me by the doctor.
The only luxury I truly missed was my music, so I spent the next 30 minutes writing lyrics to my favorite songs so I wouldn't forget them.
I glanced up and spotted a black box with a red light in the upper right hand corner. "That's odd," I thought. I then looked around to find them in every corner. This is when I remember what the orderly said,
"...all of the rooms are monitored..."
Fuck. This meant I wasn't even going to have the one natural stress reliever I've used every day since I was 13. (Grow up, I'm just talking about jacking off)
I sighed deeply, and turned out the light. The bed was uncomfortable, fitted with rubber sheets and one pillow and blanket which were almost paper thin. I used the pillow to block out the cacophony from the rooms outside. While it did manage to soften the noise from the external voices, the internal ones were turned up to 11.
"WHYAMIHEREWILLTHISMAKEHERLOVEMEYOUBROKEYOURMOTHERSHEARTSHEBROKEMINEFIRSTWEALWAYSKNEWITWOULDCOMETOTHISGOD WHY HAVEN'T THE SLEEPING PILLS KICKED I-"
When I awoke it was still dark out and something felt wrong. I was groggy from the pill I took and reached my hand under the blanket and it came back wet. The meds put me down so hard I pissed the bed. I walked to the front desk and stood there for a few moments, because I forgot why I went.
"Yes?" my best friend the male orderly asked with nervous eyes.
"mmlosthm"
"You're lost?"
"No! I lost something. Can you help me find it?"
"Well, what'd you lose?"
"My fuckin' dignity, have you seen it?"
"What?"
"Never mind. Can I have some clean sheets, please?"
His expression was quizzical, but he obliged. I went back and passed out again, unaware of what the next day would bring.
"You'll be out of this wing soon, couple of days tops. Just keep your head down and try not to excite anyone."
"Duly noted."
The door to my wing opened and there while there were no patients in sight, I could hear them wailing in the back. We approached the front desk which was connected to the normal wing. I looked to my right to see an older woman with matted hair standing in the hallway and pressing her face into the wall.
The orderly takes my duffel bag for inspection and I was taken to a room for a proper medical screening. They asked me why I was there and I told them about the breakup. How seeing her everyday tore me up inside, but didn't affect her in the slightest. I would have rather she hated me, because it was her apathy that was doing me in.
"Uh-huh." Was his response.
Then I just started throwing out more random traumatic memories, things I torture myself with every single day.
"Uh-huh." Was his response.
After I made the cute female nurse leave, I asked him about an embarrassing health issue. His eyes visibly clicked with recognition as the final piece of the puzzle slid into place and he understood why I was there.
"Now, I can't help you with that. But, I don't think you're crazy. Depressed, sure, but you're not insane. You are, however, about to see crazy."
I go back to the front desk and I ask if I can go smoke. Thankfully, they say it's OK and point to the door. The smoke room was a big wooden box with benches built along the walls. Also on the walls, were years of mad ramblings carved into their surface which you could get lost in for hours.
The first time I entered the box I was not alone, there were two other guys there with me. One was a cheerful middle age white guy who said, "They, call me joker, or smiley. Cos, I'm always smilin'. He wasn't lying, cat always had a smile carved onto his face. His eyes never smiled with his lips, they hid much more malevolent emotions.
The second was an emaciated black man in his thirties. He introduced himself by many names, one of which was Joseph. He was a prophet who spoke to Jesus Christ.
I lit my cig and savored the first drag before asking, "Whatcha guys doin'?"
Joseph looked at me, "We're reading the word of God. You're a believer aren't you?"
"You know," I squeaked, "religion is very complicated. There are lot of things you have to really think about."
"Not it isn't." Joseph's eyes flashed with wrath, "You're either with us, or with them." He points to the nursing station. "They get bled like pigs."
"Oh, um...I love Jesus. So much."
"Good." Joker finally chimed in. "Cos, see we can't read so good and you talk like you can. Come sit next to us and read the word of God."
"Yes. Great idea." I wasn't relieved by Joseph's approval.
I sat down in between them and a bible was thrust into my lap. I don't remember what I read to them, but I do remember thinking the experience was the personification of my feelings regarding organized religion, particularly Christianity.
The orderly who brought me in came outside right when the guys were telling me their deranged take on the passage I'd just read.
"We need you back inside."
"Thank you so much, man. I was getting worried." I said once the door was closed behind us.
"That was about to turn into a situation. Those two are the two most dangerous patients here. Don't turn your back on them."
"Joseph said people will be bled like pigs."
"Yeah, he says that."
He informs me my bag has passed inspection, my door is to remain open at all times, the rooms are monitored and I will be given a pill to help me sleep. He doesn't tell me what it is and I don't ask.
"What do you want to drink?" he asks. "We've got apple juice, orange juice, milk, chocolate milk..."
"Chocolate milk!" I say with the enthusiasm of a five year old.
He gives me two, which is more than I want, but I pop the pill and chug em both down because I doubt I'll have a minifridge in my room. Once I'm nauseous from the mixture of too much dairy and old Mexican food, he tells me where to find my room.
As I walk the halls I don't dare look into any of the open rooms, for fear at what I might find. I finally reach mine and when I cross its threshold I get a horrifying view of the woman from the hallway staring at me while completely naked. An involuntary burp filled my mouth with a concoction of fajitas, chocolate milk and vomit.
"This is my room!" She tells me as she stomps her foot.
"Okie-dokie." Was all I could come up with before I left.
I tell the orderly, "There's a naked woman in my room. This is the first time in my life I'm not stoked to say that sentence."
"Oh, um...ok. Take the one across from her, I'm pretty sure it's empty."
"Awesome, thanks."
My new room was empty, but being forced to sleep with the door open meant it didn't make me feel any more reassured. I put my clothes in the cubby hole they gave me and brought my personal effects and put them in the nightstand by my bed. These effects included, one notebook and one pen. Both were given to me by the doctor.
The only luxury I truly missed was my music, so I spent the next 30 minutes writing lyrics to my favorite songs so I wouldn't forget them.
I glanced up and spotted a black box with a red light in the upper right hand corner. "That's odd," I thought. I then looked around to find them in every corner. This is when I remember what the orderly said,
"...all of the rooms are monitored..."
Fuck. This meant I wasn't even going to have the one natural stress reliever I've used every day since I was 13. (Grow up, I'm just talking about jacking off)
I sighed deeply, and turned out the light. The bed was uncomfortable, fitted with rubber sheets and one pillow and blanket which were almost paper thin. I used the pillow to block out the cacophony from the rooms outside. While it did manage to soften the noise from the external voices, the internal ones were turned up to 11.
"WHYAMIHEREWILLTHISMAKEHERLOVEMEYOUBROKEYOURMOTHERSHEARTSHEBROKEMINEFIRSTWEALWAYSKNEWITWOULDCOMETOTHISGOD WHY HAVEN'T THE SLEEPING PILLS KICKED I-"
When I awoke it was still dark out and something felt wrong. I was groggy from the pill I took and reached my hand under the blanket and it came back wet. The meds put me down so hard I pissed the bed. I walked to the front desk and stood there for a few moments, because I forgot why I went.
"Yes?" my best friend the male orderly asked with nervous eyes.
"mmlosthm"
"You're lost?"
"No! I lost something. Can you help me find it?"
"Well, what'd you lose?"
"My fuckin' dignity, have you seen it?"
"What?"
"Never mind. Can I have some clean sheets, please?"
His expression was quizzical, but he obliged. I went back and passed out again, unaware of what the next day would bring.
Validation
This is a comment I received today on the "Find Your Voice" page of www.bledoutontoapage.com
"Your words are precious balm. Too many sould need to hear truths of this sort, but are too wrapped up in their own pain to even begin to search for help, because they think they are beyond help. As long as there is breath in your body, there is someone else who can understand and help. You could be that someone for so many people. Keep it up."
I can't thank you enough for this, Donna. This is the exact thing I'm trying to be.
"Your words are precious balm. Too many sould need to hear truths of this sort, but are too wrapped up in their own pain to even begin to search for help, because they think they are beyond help. As long as there is breath in your body, there is someone else who can understand and help. You could be that someone for so many people. Keep it up."
I can't thank you enough for this, Donna. This is the exact thing I'm trying to be.
My time in the mental hospital: Part 1
There are painful things about my past which people in my personal life know about, but won't let me discuss. I can't talk about them because of how it makes them feel. This means I have to kill myself by keeping it all inside. I'm not going to live like that anymore. Here's a story I've been needing to tell for 2 and a half years.
A couple of weeks before my 23rd birthday, I was in a bad way. I was allowing Allison to string me along, seeing horrible doctors and hearing a voice which told me to kill myself. Due to a lack of another viable option I decided to check myself into a mental hospital.
The only people I told before I left were a lady in HR and my boss. My boss also had a big mouth, I later found out.
I drove my car to my mom's house and waited for her to get home to take me up there. I just remember sitting in her living room. Everything was quiet except for the sounds of my sister swimming in the backyard and the obnoxious wind chime by the back door. My hands shook as I put my headphones on and listened to "HRSA" by Blue October. Then I wept.
Mom got home and the next thing I remember is pumping gas for her. Then us eating in painful silence where I couldn't bring myself to look at her.
After that, we got to the hospital and they gave me paperwork to fill out and hand back. My mom tried to stay positive, but I knew as soon as she was inside her car she was going to unload. Before they took us back I had to give them my belt and shoelaces. I had to constantly hold my pants up with one hand, while trying not to walk out of my shoes and was never successful at either.
A doctor asked me questions and my mom became visibly hurt by some of the answers I had given. When the interrogation was over, the doctor told mom she had to leave. She was barely able to stifle the cry as she embraced me, then I was all alone.
The wing for patients who were bi-polar and on drug rehabilitation was full, so they stuck me with the ones who were prone to unpredictable and violent outbursts. The next 48 hours were terrifying and I've never seen a movie do it justice, but I'm not ready to go any further right now.
To be continued...
A couple of weeks before my 23rd birthday, I was in a bad way. I was allowing Allison to string me along, seeing horrible doctors and hearing a voice which told me to kill myself. Due to a lack of another viable option I decided to check myself into a mental hospital.
The only people I told before I left were a lady in HR and my boss. My boss also had a big mouth, I later found out.
I drove my car to my mom's house and waited for her to get home to take me up there. I just remember sitting in her living room. Everything was quiet except for the sounds of my sister swimming in the backyard and the obnoxious wind chime by the back door. My hands shook as I put my headphones on and listened to "HRSA" by Blue October. Then I wept.
Mom got home and the next thing I remember is pumping gas for her. Then us eating in painful silence where I couldn't bring myself to look at her.
After that, we got to the hospital and they gave me paperwork to fill out and hand back. My mom tried to stay positive, but I knew as soon as she was inside her car she was going to unload. Before they took us back I had to give them my belt and shoelaces. I had to constantly hold my pants up with one hand, while trying not to walk out of my shoes and was never successful at either.
A doctor asked me questions and my mom became visibly hurt by some of the answers I had given. When the interrogation was over, the doctor told mom she had to leave. She was barely able to stifle the cry as she embraced me, then I was all alone.
The wing for patients who were bi-polar and on drug rehabilitation was full, so they stuck me with the ones who were prone to unpredictable and violent outbursts. The next 48 hours were terrifying and I've never seen a movie do it justice, but I'm not ready to go any further right now.
To be continued...
Top Five Favorite Albums
Criteria: One album per band. More than 8 songs must be phenomenal.
5. New Found Glory-New Found Glory
The soundtrack to my high school career is filled with emo, pop-punk bands and it all began with the song "Hit or Miss". After viewing the video on MTVX, (hey, does anyone else remember The Box?), I immediately went to my favorite hole in the wall record store to buy a copy. It became the gateway album which led to Blink-182, Good Charlotte, Dashboard Confessional and several other bands I still listen to today.
They were the one thing her and I ever agreed upon.
4. The Great Milenko-Insane Clown Posse
I love me some ICP and Milenko served as our introduction back when I was in 8th grade. The record was unlike anything I'd ever heard. With the fourth Jokers card the boys created something vulgar, horrifying, violent and hysterical all at the same time. It's absolutely flawless.
The story behind the making and release of this album is almost as good as the music it contains. Google it.
3. Argue With a Tree (Dual disc live album)-Blue October
It's scary how much I relate to Blue October's lead singer, Justin Furstenfeld. Not only is the this best live album I've ever heard, but many of the tracks are ten times better than their studio recordings. This is simply one of those bands which sounds better in person and this is TWO discs of magic in a bottle.
Life imitating art: I've personally lived the song "HRSA".
2. Sparkle and Fade-Everclear
I stole this album from my dad back in middle school and put it on every once in awhile. I didn't truly hear it until my first obsession kept my entire CD collection except for S&F for over a week during my sophomore year. That's an eternity for a moody high schooler. During that time I listened to it all the way through over 100 times. It's the first album I really connected to emotionally. Frontman Art Alexakis cuts himself wide open and bleeds out on every track. The pain in is vocals is heartbreaking, but it's provided me with comfort for ten years.
Fun Fact: Art wrote and recorded my favorite track off the record by himself in a couple of hours. This dude doesn't fuck around.
1. Daisy-Brand New
What can I say about this album? "Vices" is an unexpected and jarring open, but at the 1:25 mark the guitars explode and violent lyrics about the pain of divorce let you know you're in for one hell of a ride. Every song manages to keep you guessing, while the final one perfectly ties it all together. While this album is certainly not for everyone, I highly recommend it for those of you who are adventurous and can see the beauty hidden just below the surface.
Also, if it's your first time to listen to this album; wear headphones and read the lyrics.
5. New Found Glory-New Found Glory
The soundtrack to my high school career is filled with emo, pop-punk bands and it all began with the song "Hit or Miss". After viewing the video on MTVX, (hey, does anyone else remember The Box?), I immediately went to my favorite hole in the wall record store to buy a copy. It became the gateway album which led to Blink-182, Good Charlotte, Dashboard Confessional and several other bands I still listen to today.
They were the one thing her and I ever agreed upon.
4. The Great Milenko-Insane Clown Posse
I love me some ICP and Milenko served as our introduction back when I was in 8th grade. The record was unlike anything I'd ever heard. With the fourth Jokers card the boys created something vulgar, horrifying, violent and hysterical all at the same time. It's absolutely flawless.
The story behind the making and release of this album is almost as good as the music it contains. Google it.
3. Argue With a Tree (Dual disc live album)-Blue October
It's scary how much I relate to Blue October's lead singer, Justin Furstenfeld. Not only is the this best live album I've ever heard, but many of the tracks are ten times better than their studio recordings. This is simply one of those bands which sounds better in person and this is TWO discs of magic in a bottle.
Life imitating art: I've personally lived the song "HRSA".
2. Sparkle and Fade-Everclear
I stole this album from my dad back in middle school and put it on every once in awhile. I didn't truly hear it until my first obsession kept my entire CD collection except for S&F for over a week during my sophomore year. That's an eternity for a moody high schooler. During that time I listened to it all the way through over 100 times. It's the first album I really connected to emotionally. Frontman Art Alexakis cuts himself wide open and bleeds out on every track. The pain in is vocals is heartbreaking, but it's provided me with comfort for ten years.
Fun Fact: Art wrote and recorded my favorite track off the record by himself in a couple of hours. This dude doesn't fuck around.
1. Daisy-Brand New
What can I say about this album? "Vices" is an unexpected and jarring open, but at the 1:25 mark the guitars explode and violent lyrics about the pain of divorce let you know you're in for one hell of a ride. Every song manages to keep you guessing, while the final one perfectly ties it all together. While this album is certainly not for everyone, I highly recommend it for those of you who are adventurous and can see the beauty hidden just below the surface.
Also, if it's your first time to listen to this album; wear headphones and read the lyrics.
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