Message Recieved, Loud and Clear

The problem with a blog is people read it, interpret it and twist it all around.

I’ve done it myself before. I’ve read myself into another person’s deep ramblings, for better or worse. And, well, let’s face it… It’s normally for the worst.

But then sometimes, someone special and brilliant comes along and they help you, the writer, make sense of your own strange brain and those moments are… delicious.

Yesterday I had this exchange regarding my “dream” post with a friend and it felt so good that I need to share it.

Her: Hey

Me: Hello…

Her: I think it’s your mom. Telling you to move on. Out of your grieving stage.

Me: I think so too.

Her: Not a “goodbye” waive so much as a waive that says “enough already”

Me: Yes! That’s exactly how she waived too

Her: You’ve been dismissed

Then there was a long discussion about her own loss.

Then we talked about finding “true love” and how girls will sometimes end things to “preserve” the friendship. Which, I don’t care, is still the most retarded chic move ever.

How the joy of being near someone can come with the terrible pain of being alone.

There was talk of sacrificing your own happiness for someone else and how that basically sucks ass (that’s a technical term).

And, eventually, I forgave her for loving mushrooms and hating pickles because no one can be perfect.

That’s all.

Dreaming of You

So, my friend, I had a dream about you the other night.

You were living in this huge antebellum mansion located along a bayou.

It was raining hard. All of the doors and windows were open and the intermittent gusts of wind would blow a sheet of water inside.

You let me in. We drank gin martinis. You looked gorgeous. The beautiful words just rolled off your tongue and your voice was soft and tranquil.

You declared it was time to close the windows and doors. I followed you from room to room, listening to you talk, watching your body glide across the old wood floors.

And there was this subtle fear inside of me. This fear that would stop and I’d have to leave.

You finally settled into a floral couch and with a waive of your hand told me to go. As I walked down the path that led me to your house, behind me I heard the sound of heavy locks being engaged.

I could feel the lights in the old house shutting down. I was left in the dark, alone.

Then it was over and I woke up and it bothered me all day.

I think its because when my mom died she made the same hand motion on her last conscious day, telling me to go home.

Then it was a long month before she was gone.

But I don’t know…

Yer the smart one in this friendship

I Can’t Sleep

“If you’re gonna fall apart, do it in your own bed room.” — Margot Kidder

Why I Can’t Sleep Tonight

I have to disagree.

I’ve had a lot of “falling apart” episodes over the last year. When I fall apart, that means tears. The tears bring with them snot. And, so, the best place to fall apart is in the shower cause it helps wash the snot and shame of being retarded right down the drain.

The car is a good place too. Just make sure you have sun glasses.

Anyway…

This quote is crappy because it has nothing to do with not being to sleep.

Me? I know all about not sleeping. If I can go another 3 hours it will 72 with out sleep. Not too shabby for a sober guy.

The key, you see, is to have something running through your mind.

I’ve been thinking about friendship.

What is a friend? Why are they important? Why do some people promise to be there but then simply drift away?

Just like a shadow…

When it’s bright and sunny out that shadow skips along with you with a fetching allure.

But then… When the lights go out and it’s dark they disappear while you stumble around like a monkey on a bourbon bender, scared and all alone.

A long time ago when I was in a different state of mind, I had a friend that meant everything to me. I would have done anything for them. I told them things I was scared to even admit to myself.

They started to drift away one day. Slowly at first and then it picked up steam to the point that this person I trusted was suddenly like a stranger.

Like a fool I asked them to stop, turnaround and come back…

They said something about California, life moving forward and physically being there just not mattering. They also said something about the Easter Bunny not being real. Which was just fucking cruel.

It’s okay. The lesson was learned. Forever is pretty short. Don’t trust whitey. Some people just don’t want the same things. And if they don’t care then you got to move on.

So that’s been keeping me up.

And making me fall apart.

It was nice for awhile. I’d be lying if I didn’t say so.