Bar Room Brigade

Original piece written 7/30/07

We are all suffering together, alone
in this bar
We buy each other drinks
and make jokes
and go home dying.

We should reach out, but instead
We are breeding a generation
with scars on our arms we don't talk about
and we can't look each other in the eye
We want to scream but hold it in
we are awkward in our movements
and bad at relationships
We are confused by adult live
and everything that comes with it
We are searching for our golden ticket
Our promise to a better live than this
But there are no more chocolate bars
Or maybe there are
but no one has the ambition to find one.

Rat Race

Running
Running
Faster
blood pumping
feeling sick
Keep up
Keep going
Just a little more
Keep running
and running
and running
and falling further and further behind
is this even the right race?
I can't see the finish line
how much further?
Keep going
can't breathe
so tired
knees hurt
getting old
water
need water
stop for water
Catch breath
Can't catch breath
too much
further behind
not strong enough
shoes are old
need new shoes
Run
Keep running
Faster
Harder
keeping pushing and it will come
it will get easier
hurt less
Just keep going
can't see the way
pretty sure this is the wrong path
must have gotten off course
wilderness is tough terrain
Keep running
just keep running
wrong direction
Can't turn back.

San Diego Dreaming

The palms are lazy to the fact that inside the buildings there are people living, and working, and dreaming who don't see them, nor are aware of their being.

No one should stress in Southern California.
The beaches are ready and waiting to absorb your stories and tell you theirs.
The air is warm but sometimes dry.
Sometimes it's so dry that newspapers curl up at the corners and it hurts to breathe.
Santa Ana winds are no joke, ask Joan Didion.

On every corner is fruit, or coffee, or alcohol, or Mexican roadside tacos.
Suntans and painted toes rules the sidewalks.
Gyms and Wellness Centers and Yoga Studios run the streets and glitter in the ever present sunlight.
Cars never die because they do not rust,
rather the roads beat them to pieces
and the gas prices keep their tanks low.

We are all fighting for the same jobs,
jobs that pay us like the cost of living is low
and treat us like we can be bought and sold.
Some of us choose to surf instead
or start our own consulting service or operate a Food Truck.
Some of us live on orange juice and smiles.

We all come here with big dreams seem to grow stagnant in the sun.
Or maybe we were born here and simply never left.
We get caught up in traffic and happy hour martinis and organic foods and living expenses
and forget to open up our eyes, enjoy the Palms lining the streets, and just breathe.
We are San Diego.

Halloween

Taking some time to reflect on the events that took place this time last year, Halloween night to be specific, and the events that followed thereafter. If you are not privy to the inside details of said events, I'll summarize: a brief but amazing whirlwind of love and lust and joy followed by an incredible and unwarranted heartbreak.

It's amazing how even the things that seem irreparable are eventually buried into the past with all the other things, and with enough time a great enough distance is put between you and them that is impossible for the pain to reach through.  Still, looking back, it feels like you should feel something, it feels important to acknowledge that you should feel something, even if only to realize that you are, in fact, still alive.

I am continuously reminded that all of life is just that: life. It is beautiful, and messy, and weird, and hard, and inspiring, and amazing, and fun, and, with any luck, bizarre. It's all a piece of the journey, another page in the book that may or may not be important to moving the plot along.  Never take anything too seriously or too lightly, but rather accept everything for what it is, even if you may not know what it is at the time.  Some things we never learn the reason behind. That's okay.

Looking back, I am glad to be where I am, and grateful for all the things.

Happy Halloween!

Nostalgic

I have had so many different lives in this life. So many pockets of invention and reinvention, lined with beautiful, bitter-sweet memories.

I have loved them all, and often miss the people and places and different versions of me.

The life I miss the most is the 2-year pocket in Kansas. I was 17, and my life was just beginning (although I didn't know it at the time). So much laughter and joy and innocent (and not-so-innocent) fun was had in college dorm-rooms and back country farm roads. 

Even though I was struggling a lot at the time to balance my emotions and survive the growing pains of self discovery, I often look back at that time as ideal. I never knew how much those dusty flatlands would take hold of my soul.

There is a version of me somewhere out there, dancing in the fields. If you see her be sure to say hi.

Dust

Sometimes I feel I am getting left behind.
This world moves much too fast.
The days bleed together like a mess of melted crayons.
I am still on the previous page
and a new chapter is already beginning.

All my efforts turn to dust
While those who have hurt me find their place.
They find salvation and I am left with nothing
only a fistful of broken dreams and battered memories.
When will it be my turn?

I have tried too hard and cried too much
and still it is not over.
Why should they be rewarded for what they've done?
While I am left here wanting,
Wondering what I've done wrong.

Sometimes this life is just too much
I cannot feel anything anymore
I cannot pretend to be happy if this smile feels so false
I have nothing to give you, so stop asking.
One day there will be sunshine
but today there is only dust.

Stagnant

I breathe in and am not fulfilled
The air is thick and stained with disappointment
My voice is weak and cracks from lack of use.
Can you hear me?
I'm not sure I know what to say.

My feet have not moved in so long they are starting to grow roots
but the ground I stand upon unstable.
I am paralyzed by painful mediocrity.
For an artist it is never enough.

One of these days I will leave here.
I cannot condone this existence.
I cannot keep this atrocious smile on my face
What happens when there is no more energy left to care?
They say this place is not so bad
But it's beginning to feel like hell.

This life is beautiful, but without meaning
There must be something more to say.
Waiting for the wind to pick me up and carry me away
It is time for the cards to fall
to find out what we're really made of.
I cannot breathe here anymore
I cannot tell you how I feel
I cannot feed my soul with cardboard.
But I cannot walk away.