Late April, Early May 2012

Fuck. This is turning into a lyric/poem blog – not really what I want it to be about. Either way this is going to be one fucking fun month. Four bloody fucking essays to write – I should get started on one today, at least. Besides that, it’s been a good 2012. Yes.

I cannot wait until I finish this semester and graduate. Lots to do afterwards, and lots on my mind at the moment. I do know what I will be doing immediately after I graduate.

One fucking bottle of red wine (70-100$ range) – obviously I won’t drink it alone. A road trip to Boston.

No Limits Tonight

Come to me,
Gone in the wind,
Summer breeze, and let go,
Behind the stars,
No limits tonight,
Burning paper just to keep warm,
Fire, this desire
Moving past you,
Through the front door
And not looking behind anymore.

Cancel my subscription to your love,
Cancel my subscription to your fate,
Burn the images planted in your brain,
The flame is dying, no one’s trying.

When can we end up where we began?
When can we find life once again?
When can we hold hands?
Why do we find ways to hate?
Why do we let go when there’s a way?

In this room
In circles,
Trying to read your thoughts,
The words slipping through your lips,
Up all night
Thinking about us,
Fighting through the storm,
Feeling fine; feeling fucked.

There is no tomorrow,
There is no yesterday,
There is only now.

There is no you,
There is no me,
There is only us.

There is no denying,
There are no assumptions,
There is only belief.

Without it, there’s nothing.

One Thing at a Time

Finally got the Boston Bruins mini-gloves to hang on my rearview mirror. Oh, fuck yeah. I ordered them a week ago, and slowly slowly my car (her name is Josie, if you give a fuck) will represent it’s true colours. Boston Bruins, baby. I also ordered Boston Bruins summer matts for the front. First time ordering online with my card.

It sure fucking feels good to have my own car. White, 2012 Honda Civic. Josie. Bitch.

Towards Distraction

Walk away
Towards any direction,
Walk away,
Walk away
Towards the light,
In the darkness,
Of this city,
Of this love,
Walk away.

Flowers by the doorstep,
Love being battered by cold hearts,
Silence in the road this evening,
The only one in sight,
Wondering of tonight
When the future is unclear.

Conscious unravelling,
What seemed forever is only minutes,
What could be perfect found a hole,
Only when bored,
Am I the only one left
To fill this void in you?
When you’re bored.

Walk away,
Walk away
Towards anywhere else,
Walk away,
Walk away
Nothing really felt right,
Walk away,
Into the light,
Into the darkness,
Wherever,
Or out of love.

Lost Track of What I Was Going to Say

I sit here with my fresh hot coffee and Jane’s Addiction’s, “Classic Girl” blaring in the background. Classic. Such a mellow, yet stoned version of love and a girl. Something about that song enables me to forget all the trouble (if I have any), and current situations that I am in. It’s classy, and delicious. Anyways, this blog post is not to write about the particular song and how it soothes my fantasies. Random thought, really – and the fact that it is actually blaring in the background as I type this.

I figured I would take the opportunity to write something – anything – after having drank two large glasses of wine, and a glass of rum & coke not to long ago. I know what you are thinking, “oh boy, this guy’s going to blab about shit and say something stupid.” Probably. But then again, you may have forgotten that I don’t give a fuck. This is a blog. Naturally, I’m going to blog stupid shit.

What to say. I won’t go into much detail from work besides telling you that I enjoy it – I try to make people happy, get them in a good mood. I tend to succeed, but then I fall in the same shit over and over – I’m a good person; a gentleman that literally opens up a door of flaws. I think I finally realized that being a good person/gentleman can backfire. OK, I didn’t just realize it but it’s the latest situation that falls into that category – whatever it may be. Fuck, I’m terrible at fucking typing tonight – fucking wine. Here’s what happened: short story. Group of 3 waiters; 3 clients signed the bill to their rooms & left; the other waiter picked up the bills and noticed that they were on “no-post” (meaning that the clients did not leave a credit card at the front desk, therefore, they could not charge to their rooms). This meant that (since the clients were gone) the money would come out of our pockets. I’m the type who treats everyone equally – if there are mistakes, then no problem we’ll solve them together. But apparently to one of the waiters, it was my fault that the clients left and that the room numbers weren’t checked beforehand. As a good person trying to solve this problem, I took the charge – I tried getting in touch with the clients by phone (to their rooms) and whatnot. My boss knew this. At the end of the night, my boss was nice enough to cancel the bills – eliminating the fact that we would have to pay out of our pockets. I had absolutely no problem with Waitress C – she’s absolutely sweet and nice with me and everyone else. The next day I thought about it, and I realized that by trying to solve the problem – by being a good person – I made myself look guilty of the act. I made myself look like the reason for those 3 clients writing their room numbers on the bill, which were not valid.

Anyways.

I also realize that I cannot play video games for more than 4 hours without having fucking headaches. Perhaps it’s coffee withdrawal, but it has happened before after playing a video game for 3-4 hours straight.

Alright, I’ll write some more later. I guess. Maybe.

A Drunk Lullaby

Don’t get fooled by the title.

Running on 3 1/2 hours of sleep. Burnt. Mostly, burnt physically. Coffee tastes like fucking rubber, and this muffin is fucking fattening. Fuck. Not only is that unbelievably wicked, but my back is killing me as well. And to think I’ve done it all, I have one last essay to write for saturday afternoon – that same piece of shit essay that was erased when my mac hard-drive decided to self-destruct on me.

Ever feel like you are just blabbing, but not making sense? Writing and not making sense or giving a fuck altogether? This semester is almost over – December 11 being the last day of exams for me. I’ll say it now, I’m getting fucking drunk that night. Whiskey. Fuck it. Not to come off as an asshole, or someone who drinks to get drunk – I’m not that type – but after this shitty and odd semester, I definitely deserve a great night of drinking. Also, it should be noted that I am a fun drunk. Yes, a fun drunk.

Holy shit, it’s 9 in the morning and I’m fucking writing about drinking and getting drunk. Looks like I have my priorities straight. Fuck.

High on Love

Light the way
Through the unknown,
Darkness, everywhere I go,
Finding myself
Through this scattered storm,
I’ve been on this road before.

I’ve been on this road before.

Unlikely to run when you can’t walk,
Erase me from your memory,
Enough with the games,
Just let it be, and walk away,
I’ve been on this road before.

You’re tearing me up,
You’re getting me high on love,
Then you’re crushing me,
Then I’m wondering how I got in this mess.

Leading me on
When your mind’s uncertain,
Watch it unravel, watch it fall,
I think I’m on the same road,
I’m facing the same demons.

Erase me from your memory,
I’m trying to erase you from mine,
Lying here thinking of what went on,
Leading on, lead me on.

I’ve been on this road before.

Tried. Tried. Tearing me up,
Fool. Fool. Leading me on every direction.
Leaning your head on mine,
Leaning in, swooping in.

Figuring what went on,
Finding out it’s far too last,
Sometimes things are not meant
To make any sense.

I’ve been on this road before.