But It Was and You Are.

A little bit of inspiration from Rancid:

Silhouetted palm trees backing it up against the sky
Echo Park sunset, an ambulance drives by
But someone went down
And I wonder who
Faces flash forward, it could be anybody I knew

So I drank like a fish and I crawled like a rat
Through the city of shit I ended up on my back
But I can't believe you're with me after dark
So let it come together in Echo Park

And I say
Who would've thought that dreams come true?
And who would've thought I ended up with you?
And who would've thought what they said was true?
But it was and you are, lighted darkness come through

A red flag and your body wins
Or a snake bite, gotta start again
So I'm fucked up and watching TV all day
I don't wanna see what Ricki Lake gotta say

And it hits me when I'm alone, I'm an angry man
I start singing to myself I got dealt a shitty hand
With all these feelings my heart could explode
So is it not fear, knowing it all

And I say
Who would've thought that dreams come true?
And who would've thought I ended up with you?
And who would've thought what they said was true?
It was and you are, lighted darkness come through



That is my cheesey way of announcing the way I feel,

and guess what,

I'm getting married!

some time in June. Super soon, huh? When you know, you know. And there's no other way to describe it. You won't even have to ask. And it's not about things being perfect or without conflict. It's about meeting up with each other on the same path to some great somewhere and knowing that no matter how great the adversity you can overcome it, together. Where I end and you begin...

Anne at Cafe du Monde

Foundation Cornerpiece

The Ninth Ward

Jane deciding what to order

St Louis Cathedral

Yes.

I would have said,

No time but this
this
this. She went
to take pictures of the team (her team, she thought,) and felt that old awkwardness creeping up.

where does it come from.
Hand on steel
finger on trigger
that internal quiver won't make me stop. snap snap.
It's funny but it was that joke that kept creeping into my head too, and thinking about all of the changes of the past year, and staying true to who you are. Something was overwhelming. It had to be rooted out. The overwhelming thing was making me cringe from my head to my toes. And so we did, we rooted it out.

If I was there banging at the castle wall,
you would only let me in because of the
quid
pro
quo.

By being too kind I have wasted my life.

I won my first ribbon in a photography show, found out over the weekend.
The ribbon is green in this case signifying honorable mention
and not envy.

What color would anger be, and surely it wouldn't be the firey hues we so often associate with it. That is passion. Grey, I think. The color of giving up but wanting, the color of burying a thousand failures instead of charging headlong, the one that leaves you blaming the world before you even step out the front door. Grey.

What exactly was there to hold on to, she wondered, and promised to not get too worked up.

Well, you're through it then. I thought I would be noble but it turned out that nobility didn't suit me. My mistake. That is the short and the long version of how it happened. I have no need for forgiveness because I'm a scoundrel and this doesn't bother me. Sometimes what everyone needs is to be turned out onto the street with no plan and lots of alcohol available. And a general disdain for what your life has become. That's when you figure out the really good stuff.

Safety is a tomb.
Run from it until you no longer need it.
Beat it and make it your slave.

Rise like lions after slumber
in unvanquishable number -
shake to earth your chains like dew
which in sleep had fallen on you.
You are many, they are few.

end
transmission.

It Ain't Like Sittin At Home

I had remembered it all so differently, and it became crystal clear in an instant like waking up without a hangover after a night of drunkenness. The fog of my preconceived notions was gone and I was so so thankful at that moment to be monozygotic. It was a warm spring night though, for an instant, and I felt with so much loving kindness what it was like to say goodbye, how I knew it would be for the last time regardless of what my emotions and hormones were saying. And how it is a sweet, beautiful, peaceful, fond farewell. How being able to say that makes it so much easier to get on to the next. How I would fall to my knees and bless that goodbye, for all that it entails.

Thankful for the chance to realize that she's my hero. To remember so much about the way it used to be. She will return, of this I'm sure, and their skin will be bronze after having bivouacked under foreign skies. They will come back under entirely new auspices and life will be a thing to marvel at because there is no other way that things could go. We are the Jinn, and that makes all the difference. Those spirally nacreous things are still buried under the earth somewhere, waiting, and that red moon is singing and there is a watchful star somewhere keeping track. Life is golden, and of course it's going to end up beautifully, because that's exactly what we want.

No life but that which we make.

We Are A Wormhole.

I bitch and moan so much about my job I thought I'd spare a second to give some propers. To be sure, there is a lot about my job that sucks. Namely, my coworkers, the stifiling self-consciousness among a large majority of the student body, the politics, the fact that because I'm on the front line my coworkers think it's cool to dump their emotional bullshit onto me. Etc. Whatever, here I go bitching again.

I love the punk rock kids. I can't tell you how much I favor the punk rock kids, how wrong it is, yet how I continue to do it, despite the conscious degree to which I realize that it's wrong. The other day I saved a kid from a detention simply because he was wearing a NOFX tshirt. The back of said tshirt had a picture of "dubya" on it, and below was printed the words "Idiot son of an asshole." (One of their songs.) Cool? Yeah. Oh yeah. If you play the guitar in a band that looks up to the Misfits, we're golden. I really don't care that it's favoritism. It's not like I'm mean to the others... I just gotta help my brethren.

The only real problem that I have with the students is their lack of uniqueness. It's hard to remember high school, hard to remember that desire to fit in that overrides any desire for individuality. I think that's why I love the punk rock kids. They just don't give a shit. I know I wasn't that strong in high school. I wasn't so insecure that I was acting like a moron just to fit in (there are so many kids who seriously do this) but I was definitely stressing about not wearing the same pants twice in a week, saying the right things, not associating with the weirdos, etc. How ironic that for my second stretch at the high school I not only love the weirdos but I make every effort that I can to bend the rules to their advantage. There is this one kid who had been ditching school during 3rd period every day, and not coming back. He randomly started talking to me about his band one day, and we ended up waxing philisophical for about a half an hour. He's been in school every day since and today gave me two tickets to a show his band is playing at in Parma next weekend. It's hard to convey how much this kind of stuff brightens my day. He's a kid who doesn't fit in at all, but that you just know is going to do something unconventional and awesome with his life. He chose me to open up to, to reach out to, to make a connection with. And that makes all the difference. I can go back again, on Monday, because this kid is going to want to see and talk to me. (And vice versa.) It's the little things, seriously.

There's this other kid who comes to talk with me at least three times a day. I have to admit that he's my favorite kid in the school. His parents have no money and he has like 6 siblings and he's an absolute spazz and the moron who works with me from 11-1 rolls her eyes whenever she sees him coming. He has got so much spunk though, and he doesn't give a seriously doesn't give a good god damn what anyone thinks of him, not even what I think of him. His honesty and confidence intimidate and inspire me. He's 15. He's 15 and I feel blessed to have such a close relationship with him! He's taught me a few Muai-Tai moves, and his eyes glaze when he starts talking about martial arts. He talks NON STOP and when you poke fun at him for it he smiles his sly smile and says, "I'm an Aries, what can I say??" and somehow it suffices. He runs errands for me when he should be sitting bored in study hall. I wander out to the lunch room to fake steal his apple during 5th period when he's sitting at a table by himself. I love this kid.

And of course, the best has been saved for last. He's the kid that everybody thinks of when someone talks about violence in the schools, school bombings, Columbine. He has ridiculously unruly and unkempt red hair that curls so beautifully that you can't help but want to have a few minutes with his head and some hair gel. He wears a long black trench coat to school and listens to Marilyn Manson while he stares at the floors and walks down the hall. I've never seen him wear a color other than black. He often wears a tshirt with forearm length leather bracers fastooned with all types of metal buckles and grommets. His appearance is at best shocking, if not intimidating. The first time we talked he told me all about his stomach ulcer and how sometimes he has to spend time in the bathroom puking blood before he can go to class, how most of his teachers understand when he's late. Through the weeks and months our relationship has gelled around music; most of the stuff on my itunes at work is from CDs that he's lent me. The other day we had an in-depth and animated conversation about Nine Inch Nails and today at lunch he came to tell me that he'd made me a t-shirt in art class (silk screening) with Trent Reznor crouched and holding his head, and NIN emblazoned across the front. Most people can't get past his appearance and it makes me laugh at their ignorance. Here they are missing out on an awesomely unique individual because they're afraid of what it might look like if they're caught talking to someone like that...

Whatever though, this post is starting to sound self-congratulatory and that's not what I had intended. What's my point? Individuality is a RARE bird among today's youth, I think. I know everyone says this, but I don't remember things being like they are now when I was a young'un. It seems like times are getting harder for unique individuals. I dunno. I wanna form a club though, for the high schoolers. I will be sooooo selective though, and I can't pass it by the board because I want to be able to smoke and drink and dance on foreign shores in the beating sunlight. We will be called the Ferocious Ones. Because, I think, you have to be ferocious to be yourself in this age. You have to be quite strong indeed.

Ferocity will be my philosophy: cads for comfort, ignorant of science. Enslaved youth! By being too kind I have wasted my life.

Vermilion

Leafy leafy leafy