C'est La Vie

At the age of five I became friends with a kid named Ben Wadell. That's, "Way-Dell."
Ben's mom, Nancy, and my mom had developed a loose friendship based on their mutual mother/nurse-hood and I well remember my youthful days spent swimming and reading comic-books with Ben.
I woke up, not long ago, from a dream that I was having where I was leaping from different levels of different sky-scrapers onto different levels of different sky-scrapers. All of the buildings that I dreamed were incomplete and each floor was a different realm of memory.
At the end of the dream, after I had quite nearly worn out my phenomenal leaping ability, I managed a strange sideways leap to the back-yard gate of my childhood friend's house.
The gate is always wreathed in green ivy and blue skies. The latch always works more easily than it ever did in my waking experience and my frequent visits to the place in real life makes gaining entrance a simple matter.
This is a recurring dream.
After I have entered the yard I usually break into the house to find that my friend didn't hear me knocking for some reason. When I'm finally inside of the house the dream becomes a mish-mash of old memories and strange, delayed reactions to the way of things.
Inevitably, I wake up once the memory-sensation becomes too dense for me to process any longer. Once I've awoken I'm filled with a deep sadness.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away I had a best friend, Ben.
We were about five when we forged the first, clumsy bonds of friendship.
My parents divorced when I was eleven and I moved from California when I was about fourteen to live with my Dad. I needed a strong male influence in my life because my behavior had spun out of control. That's what I was told.
Moving out of the area that I'd grown up in felt like a very big, serious thing and I was gonna be damned if I didn't act accordingly.
I went and met my friend to inform him that I was moving a very long ways away and to tell him that we wouldn't be able to be friends because of this. I was very formal and very cold. It was goodbye and there wasn't any sense in fighting it.
The internet and email became popular a few months later. I didn't know it. I maybe didn't register it.
I haven't seen my friend since that time and there is little chance that I'll be able to hunt him down. If I did then I would probably be disappointed in what I hunted down. (I'm a bit of an asshole that way.)
In my dreams, Ben and his brother have never aged.
When I make it to their house it seems that everything's submerged in honey. The light refracts through honey, words are muffled and slow, and I become eerily nauseous as though I'd just eaten an entire box of powdered donuts to myself.
This is a recurring dream.
Enough dreams like these and you'll find yourself using terms like 'funereal lighting' and 'haunted interface.' This is the dream where I remember how once I wetly extracted my childhood from my breast. Clumsy child-surgery...

January 22nd

Well. I like Barack Obama.
I'm glad he was elected.
If you don't like him then I urge you to explain why without using short-cutsy pejoratives.
His administration has only just begun so refraining from passing judgment prematurely makes sense to me. Then again; he is a politician...

self-correction

correction. twas the younger marine who had the bright notion to put the remains in cartridges. i just remembered...

season of discontent

my little brother just went through his first break-up. i guess i caused it because i called his sweety a bitch while she was being a bitch.
my other siblings are a tight-knit clan of militarized, miserable, judgmental punks.
my wee bro and sis live north and south of me but they are too afraid or hateful of me to even give me a call when they get into their little holiday festivitys.
our father died recently.
we helped clean up the blood.
for some reason, i'm kept out of all decisions familial.
what are these people avoiding?
i would just giggle my ass off to hear them bawl as they rub their sad memories against me. wah wah wah. 'i'm the brother that you wish you'd never had,' is the message that i seem to be sending out. and the smell of their misery emanates from me now.
when dad died we had him cremated, as per request, and my older brother (the mormarine"semper fi! testify!) had the bright notion to have his ashes loaded into different calibre shell-casings. magazines. bullets.
fitting. no pun intended.
dad was a gun-nut.
now my scattered, shit-head siblings are more distant from me than ever.
i wonder if i will ever palm one of those bullets.
i wonder if any of those non-bastards will ever contact me ever again.
have i become douche?

men inviting men to stripclubs

perfect drunken pork chops. anyways...
why go to the club with a friend? aint i horny enough? thanks though.
who you goin' with in the 1st place?
Yeah?
well, you two have a nice time
i cant afford to get that horny
take it from me: you don't wanna get in there with any large bills.
yeah. take that shit to the bank or whatever it is you gotta do.
yeah. you'll go through that dough like a baker on speed.
no. don't do that.
well, have fun.

2009

2009.
welcome. nothing is the same. everything is the same. we're learning not to tear portions of our lips off with the sticky ends of our cigarettes. we're still bringing up our X's, bruising our knuckles on delusion and cracking our teeth on bones of contention.
i'm grumpy as fuck when it's my turn to do the dishes. it's usually my turn to do the dishes...
i believe that 2009 will be my year to wash the dishes every single time.
NO BITCHING.