I rode the day in a roller coaster, two steps above nothingness.

I went here, I went there, I ate, I breathed, I blinked.

And that's pretty much it.

I resisted in scratching an itch today, until the area of skin became numb.

I am proud of myself.

I am outside right now,
and the sky is complaining.

Myself, along with
the grass—my toe's companions—
are fearful

for we both know the cues,
the omens

and the first—

when the sky is complaining.

Last night, a dreamer dreamt
a dream.
He was out, at a restaurant, waiting for
food—a rowdy bunch

at the table across from him.
And just think:
a dream was dreamt
while a dreamer was waiting

and if only he had whispered it, had
spilt it out to the
whishes of air around him;

if only he had whispered;
maybe someone would have heard.

My favorite things are memory whiffs. You know what I'm saying? You should.

Like how you get whiffs of a fragrance with your nose sometimes, you get whiffs of memories with your mind, sometimes. Following me?

Because the whiff, it'll take you back, in a split second, to another time, and for a split second you won't exist, you'll just exist in that other time. Right?

Oh, but nevermind, I'm talking drivel here; just don't pay any attention to me, I'm only driveling.

Sometimes, when I'm sitting in a chair—just sitting in a chair, nothing more—well, something happens.

I'll be sitting in a chair—nothing more—and then all of a sudden like, maybe a violent gust of wind—yes, I can imagine a violent gust of wind—, all of a sudden something happens with my ears.

I'll be sitting in a chair and a violent gust of wind will catch me off guard, will flabbergast me, and here, I'll show you what happens:

Like a teeter-totter, remember those, in your childhood? I once told somebody that you never see any teeter-totters around any more. But like a teeter-totter, suddenly a portly fellow with a fat ass will get on and the teeter-totter will whip to one side, and like a teeter-totter whipping to one side, all of a sudden the sound from one of my ears will completely disappear. I'll feel it, hear it, I suppose, hear the sound slowly slip into my head and into my other ear. From my left ear to my right ear. And I won't be able to hear out of my left ear for maybe ten seconds, and then all of a sudden everything's normal.

So does this ever happen to you? Does a portly fellow with a fat ass ever sit on the teeter-totter of your ears, completely ravaging your hearing sense for about ten seconds?

Or is it only me?

Really, the thought of a chocolate chip cookie gives me no urge to eat one, not whatsoever, not right now, nor at any time, really.

And it makes me feel subhuman, because who in the hell doesn’t like chocolate chip cookies?

Um.

Oh my god, like this guy at the gas station, when I went up to him to buy my bag of Jim Beam sunflower seeds, he says, "oh, they have those in barbecue?," and i was like, oh, you're so stupid, that's the only flavor they come in. You're just some phony who tries to sound like you know something."

Makes me want to shut down this stupid, contrived, piece of stinky poop I call a "blog."

I feel so phony saying I "blog."

Right?

I was taking sips from a water bottle, and every time my nose came close to the plastic of the bottle, I got a big whiff of watermelon.

It made me happy, and I finished the water very quickly.

I usually savor my water...........

It is this:

The thought of going home and listening to that one particular song, that song, that in your mind just sounds perfect, that song that captures your mood just so well and vibrates your veins to some stage of vibration reverie, that song that touches you, right then right there.

Well.

It's just that in the end, the thought of listening to that song... feels better that actually listening to the song.



Is it only me? Is it only me???

I love watching movies. I always check them out from the library, because I’m a cheap bastard.

But when I do this, I’ll toss the movie in my room, and it will stay in my room. And then—in a matter of minutes—it will always become a couple days late, and I’ll have to return it, as to not pay a sumptuous fine, and I’ll end up not even watching it.

I’ll procrastinate, because although I love watching movies, well…

it doesn’t feel too great watching them alone.

I mean I’ll do it and all, but I just like having a person there, watching it with me. And the movies I watch, I like to become absorbed in them. I don’t like missing things, I don’t like them being backdrops in the environment; I’d rather not watch a movie than watch a movie with people having a conversation nearby.

But I’m going to try and change that all today, for I’m forcing myself to watch this cool movie I have checked out. It’s already one day late.

such a sorry case I am…….

Going to sleep always used to eradicate me of my bad moods.

When did that change?

Sometimes I'll be driving down the interstate, or watching a show.

I'll be driving down the interstate, and it's night, and I'll look at a building off to the side and see in its entrance a huge limestone column, with a fountain at its base full of smooth, creamy rocks, and the bubbling of water. I'll be watching a Twilight Zone episode, and it'll be about a totally desolate earth, save for one man, and that one man goes into a movie theatre, and a movie is playing.

I'll be driving, and I'll see a limestone column in a building, and I'll wonder, Would that column ever get boring, would that column bring some serenity to the dullness of a workday? And I'll be watching a Twilight Zone episode, where there's only one man left on the planet, and he goes into a movie theatre, and a movie is playing, and I'll wonder, Would I sit in the middle of the theatre or on an aisle chair, if it was just me and me alone on the planet, and I only wanted to glimpse the movie.


But the sad part about all this, is, I drove down the interstate twice, saw that limestone column twice. I watched that Twilight Zone episode twice.

And I just couldn't help it, I just couldn't shake it. Because for both times, I thought the exact same thought, twice, verbatim.

So between the first and second times, I didn't change, not a single bit. And that's sad.

Kurt Vonnegut sent me a text-in his signature style-that was, oh, about twenty little pages long...in it praising me on a short story that I wrote.

It was in a dream, though.

I should have known it was too good to be true.

I think it’s refreshing, when....

people always call someone by a nickname, but then every once in a while, a person bypasses that nickname, skips that tag everyone that else uses, and says the person’s real name.

I like that.

Oh, and I’ve found.....

certain people saying my name, just, excites me. I don’t know why. It is my name, and all, and people call me it all the time. But when certain people call me it. It’s just special.

(Noah—the "cool breeze" comment of yours applies here.)

Today, a chilly breeze swept all around me as I walked out to the car. And then about my fifth step outside....

entry, recognition, retrieval, fire, fire, fire. Shudder.

All of a sudden old times burst at the seams and flood my brain. Wearing wind colorful windbreakers. And not specifics, just a time.

And Noah—I have betrayed myself. Remember that one story we talked about at McDonald's that one time, the ironic one, the phone one, the one with the guy smelling rain and remembering old times and deciding to save himself, and then the phone rings, and then he's gone?

Well, I haven't written it yet.

But....it's just I can't help but think that concept is so true.

You go through the monotony of daily life, and you get dulled by everything. But then at one instant, one thing—an incredibly little thing, usually—just floods your brain with remembrance. One thing, and... entry, recognition, retrieval, fire, fire, fire. Shudder.

Like cool breeze.

Like et ah!, like someone's eyes.

Like the smell of rain.




Know what I mean?

This morning, it's as though my memory valve has spilt open. Driving around, listening to music—the perfect music for right then—stark and beautiful—and it's just one of those moods.

All of a sudden I'm remembering things. All sorts of things. Recent memories, old memories. Things that make me shiver. Shiver.

I drove past my old friend's house. I spent summers at daycare there when I was little; I was best friends with him. I have fallen apart from him though. I haven't seen him in a couple years.

He lives on this little hill cul-de-sac street off some major road. People don't go down that road unless they live there. In fact, as I was pulling in, someone waved to me. Expecting that I was a resident, maybe. New car.

And what surprised me most as I turned in is how short the street is. I remembered it being bigger. The hill, though, is dinky, and only eight houses live on it. My cul-de-sac holds eighteen houses. Maybe that's why I pictured it differently.

Anyways, driving down the hill, turning around, going up the hill—thirty second's worth of time—and my heart all of a sudden started beating very, very quickly. Just remembering. Looking at sights from my childhood. Sights I took for granted.

And then I left.

Recent memories, old memories. I don't know. Maybe it's bad to get in these moods?

Hmph.

At work, here is how my mind works:

Four little rubber things go into a small plastic bag.
The small plastic bags go into big bags.
The big bags were held in even bigger bags.

Logic reasoning suggests that the bags that held the big bags were held by even bigger bags, and on and on to infinity.

I thought about this for a good ten minutes, and about the irony of it all.

My dog never makes eye contact with me.

It's quite sad.

I attempt to look into his eyes, and he just looks away.

Today is a day I just want to end.
I just don't want to register anything, and not realize anything, until I realize it ends.
Because I just can't feel anything.

In other words, the person who I want to be, well, he's skipping a day today.

Maybe a nap later will bring him to life, though.

My favorite words, today, for no reason, or at least no reason that I can bloody well find, were:

gentle, and mellow.

I found this scribbled on a math assignment from long ago. I have no memory of writing it. But I like it. Way to go, Trevor of the past.

So doubtful
is he that
just looks out the window.

One of the best feelings

is

having something specific to say to a person, but as you are talking to this person, the conversation is so damn engaging and it never dies away and you never have time to think of that specific thing you meant to say.

So then afterward, you just remind yourself to bring it up for the next conversation.

Just who is E?

I once passed a sign that read, "SAVE HERE."

I have no clue what the sign meant. SAVE HERE, at this... car dealership, this gas station, this... Murky Turkey joint. Who knows.

But the thing is, that sign; it was imperfect.

Instead of the desired "SAVE HERE," with all of the letters formed in a perfectly prideful manner that spelt out two four letter words, instead it went like this:

"SAVE HER E."

There was a space between the R and the E.

I passed that sign a couple times, and the message really got to me.

I think whoever put that sign up, he did it all on purpose. He knows an "E", his buddy's name is "E", and he is telling him to "Save her."

Save her, E.

And this person, E, maybe he's not clever enough to pick up on it. Sure, his buddy works at the car dealership/gas station/Murky Turkey joint and everything, and he's glanced at the sign numerous times before. But the message just doesn't come through. It just doesn't click.

To save her. Save her.

So...will "E" save her?

NOAH-
thanks for complimenting me on my red Hawaiian shirt, again. I was wearing it in a dream.

Don’t talk to him, or call him.
See, is that a hole?
Yes, a hole on his chest right below his heart,
and each step he takes puffs out air,
robs him of his precious oxygen.
So don’t talk to him, or call him.
He’s fine where he's at.