Rooms

The strangeness of letting go,

We always say it’s difficult

It seems the older I get

The less arranged it is

People are ripped from us in the night

We don’t get to say good bye

We don’t get to make sure they are ok…

The strangeness of letting go

we fight so hard every day just to stay …

While nothing in this room is permanent …

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The moon Queen

They say, she left her heart open, in the rain…

Every Tuesday

She would pick her flowers

And write her songs

No one knows much about her

What she really thought

How she felt about things

They only remember her sadness and her tragedy

I like to think

I know what she felt,

Some nights

At 3am

I can hear her playing the piano

Its music fills the halls upstairs

Some nights

When the moon is full

And melancholy

You can see her window open

Her wide, deep, dark eyes

And her blue dress

Sometimes it’s white

But she’s only there for a minute

And then she’s gone

You might see her at the top of the stairs

Or entering someone’s room

Trying to find something she’s left behind

I’ve seen some of her paintings

Some of her sketches

And heard her songs

I think I know what it must have felt like

To be filled so full

And not know

How to express it

To feel so alone

Like an outsider

Maybe she’s still trying to work it out….

They say

You feel the fear

And the terror

If you see her face though

The pain of dying

The air turns cold

I don’t believe it

I think you see the emptiness inside of yourself

No one knows what really happened to her

Her letters

Still show up under my door

That’s when I find her paintings

Inside empty rooms

Sometimes they’re in the park

I’ve seen her walking

When the moon is full

And the fog is down,

I don’t know why she talks to me

Maybe it’s because we are both alone

Filled with things to say

And unsure of how to say them

Maybe it never goes away

Maybe it doesn’t ever let go,

Maybe we just keep on trying

Even after we’re gone….

I don’t know her name

I only call her the moon queen….

Cooking and marriage

I don’t know if I should be disappointed or not in what I’m about to say,

But here goes one for the family …

if I knew I was going to die tomorrow ,

I don’t know that anything would change that drastically in my schedule…

That’s the big rewrite for us writers isn’t?

The white whale

How would we write about dying?

Maybe it’s because I used to spend so much time writing about it when I was younger

Maybe it was the depression

Maybe it was my youth

Or maybe it’s the fact that I have Crohn’s disease

And I’ve been hospitalized several times because of it…

But I like to think that now

I’m living in such a way

At such a place

That every day

I’m just happy to be here

I just want to throw a dinner party that Nora Ephron would be proud of…

I always return to her essays and books every other year.

I’m not for it, but I think it’s pretty safe to put people on pedestals once they’re dead.

She’s easily one of my very favorite people on earth and I never even met her.

I like coffee

I love my wife and my dogs

I like cooking

I like butter,

You can never have too much butter

Or olive oil

I like coffee in the morning

Hardwood floors

Cooking, did I already say that? Well, cooking is like really great sex.

I’ll cook for you before and after.

Reading a really great book

Broadway

Everyone should see broadway

It changes you

Or it should

Art is so important

It’s important that we do not sound like everyone else

That we don’t fall into an echo

I like a really great drink.

An old fashioned,

A brown derby

A Manhattan

I like Sunday’s

Sleeping in…

I know you’re not supposed to rely on movies for expectations of love

But I think I like this bar I go to, it helps me write,

But it’s also, because there’s this table that I sat at…

It was the first “date” if you will,

Me and my wife went on…

I always think about seeing her walk in

And I knew I wanted to watch her enter rooms for the rest of my life…

I know I can be hard edged

Sarcastic and a little bit cruel

But she’s like dark energy

She’s seductive without even trying

And she is sexy as hell in heels

she’s also every Sunday morning

Every breakfast in bed

The perfect hot coffee

And a walk in the park

She’s the Italian restaurant on the corner

She’s midnight in the rain

She’s sitting there beside me

When they have to put a tube down my throat

Because of a flare up

She’s there on the front

Smiling

When I get published

She’s got all the love

I can ever hold in these hands

I’ve seen people come and go

And she wants me

And I want her

Year after year

I know what I like

I know what I want

And I

Like her

I love her

I want her.

The one about New Years and redos

I meant to work out this year. It was on my very secret list of things to do.

But then, I took a nap without setting an alarm and I woke up, and it was almost March.

Let’s face it, I’ve got to start working on my winter body, if the year is going by this fast,

The flu is going around, that’s the real reason I’m not going to the gym. I’m a complete germ freak. I basically disinfect the entire gym when I go.

Do you realize just how difficult it is to get cold medicine these days?

Back in the day, you had a cough or back ache,you could send your five year old neighbor to the doctor, who was also the local postman, and grocer. To get a bottle of absinthe and some opium. Because you had to keep chopping lumber.

Now?

I’ve got to go down there in person and show my ID and sign my name and give them my birth certificate and mortgage papers just to get some crap medicine that won’t even work.

What happens when we die? Do I have to verify my identity then too? Show you my ID? Make sure I am the person spoken of. That you are expecting for this reserved hole in the ground.

Don’t worry, if we can’t verify, we’ve got an unmarked road between two county roads, just behind the Sunday school, where we will just dump your body. What could go wrong.

I really do believe we are getting stronger as we grow up though.

Not really.

Let’s face it. We’ve all shattered those expectations. If it was a glass ceiling? We couldn’t even clean it, let alone crack it.

We’ve taken so many antibiotics, we can’t even get over a hangover and a bad date. Let alone a real virus.

Used to we had people like Doc Holliday, they’d show up to work coughing blood and they’d still out work you. Now, if there’s even a chance of mild discomfort, I’m going to need to take off for about six months leave. Turns out I can’t handle constipation like I used to. The doctor agrees as well.

We are just not built the same. I don’t know what happened, but it’s there.

And I’m trapped between these two age groups. Maybe it’s because I have been working since I was 6 years old. It’s all I know how to do. Maybe I didn’t have the same childhood as other people but at least I’ve worked to get where I am, and I’ve never asked anyone for help or a handout,you know?

I just find it funny how, When everything was unregulated, unsupervised, we still had more pride and work ethic.

Now, we have better supervision, regulation, and honestly probably for the better. But we’re like a bunch of degenerates. We want a miracle pill. You know, like a re-do button.

You remember when you were little and you could just yell redo!

And get a second chance?

That’s what we’re after.

Something to cancel out the years of bad decisions and choices that have stacked up against us.

But what do I know? I’m not a doctor or anything, I just know how to laugh at myself. Now pass me another Beer.

The one about Shelter Pets

I’m typing this and Garf is sitting between my legs, demanding that I scratch his back. Simon is sitting beside me, supporting my writing endeavor.

Shelter pets are the greatest fans, you will never have a better fan than a shelter pet.

In their eyes you can do no wrong, They’re the best version of Fox News fans, or Nixon, I mean Trump supporters, this ship may be going down, but we still love our guy, he’s the best guy. At my best health, I’m the best guy, but even at my worst , beer gut or crohn’s flare, I’m still the best guy. if I want to work out or go for runs, they’re all about that. if I want to do Sunday naps, they’re excited about that too.

I can do a mean Michael Jackson, Billie Jean impersonation, Some marriages hold sex and finances over heads to get things done, I hold this.

I was practicing, you know, in doors, away from people, so I could later feel just how old I am, and attempt to remain cool and aloof to my wife, extra snuggle points.

But like Homeschoolers, our two welfare, stay at home, shelter dogs…

Simon and Garfunkel, they just sat there watching the whole thing, like they had never seen me before….

I am now, the coolest person in not just my dogs circle of friends, but their lives. I don’t even really care what my wife thinks anymore, I just want to be the kind of cool that my dogs think I am…

You may be disappointed to find – but I was originally AGAINST introducing dogs into this paradise Love Boat. I was afraid that, like children, it would just alter everything about our lives.

Turns out, I wasn’t wrong.

But then I started walking Simon, and he in his eight week old self, was doing crazy things like getting his face stuck in Arby’s sandwich sleeves.

And then I started writing about him- you know, just to write something, because I had writers block, but as it turns out, walking Simon every day, helped my depression and anxiety, and having your own personal fan helps your self esteem. And I do mean personal fan, like, if you went to the bathroom, he would be right there, staring at you and then get excited when you were done. You don’t mean to, but you get excited too, like yeah, that is amazing, modern plumbing, I don’t have to go outside in the grass and hide from traffic and people I work with, like you, suddenly this Monday isn’t so bad.

And writing 248 + short stories about a dog and his life. Is world building and still art. And Coincidentally, writing. Which destroys writers block.

You may not be creating or succeeding in the ways you set out to, but you are still progressing and moving forward.

Now, these two dogs are still silly and awkward, Simon is super excited and will ask a ton of questions like “have you seen sticks before? You probably have, the other day I dug the biggest hole, it was great.” But he is mellowing out as he gets older.

Garfunkel is already old, but he loves to get attention, and he is strange in his own kind of street smart way, you may over hear him convincing Simon that the earth is only as big as our small town and that if Simon goes any further he will just fall – OFF like a video game character walking out of screen.

Or smaller less complicated things, like grass isn’t colored, but if it were it’s definitely colored by crayons, over night, by trolls, and that’s where you get dew, from the sweat of their work.

And he should know, because he’s practically SEEN it.

And Simon not knowing any better, will believe him, until he asks me about it. And well, that all depends on what mood I’m in.

Tones

I can feel myself

In the background

Of this empty room

I guess

I am not myself

You can try to fight

With everything you have

The truth is

Everything you overcame

Can come right back

I am trying

I keep telling myself

The words you thought you kept to yourself…

All of these miles and miles

You put behind you

I keep talking in my sleep

Didn’t they tell you?

It won’t let go…

Did you ever wonder…

The colors in the wasteland

The truth is something I keep looking for every day

Why the world is on fire…

It won’t let go

It won’t let go

All the voices from the past

They keep calling me home

I guess I always thought

We would have more time

All of the photographs of you

I keep seeing you in every color of fall

The truth is

I am not myself these days

I hide it in the well

But in the nights

Alone in my sleep

I keep the words

You hid for yourself

And I

I see you in everything

I know

We all have one chance

And that’s why I know

It won’t let go

And I won’t let go

Call me

Anytime you feel the miles

You know

It won’t let go

And I won’t let you go…

The truth is

Everything reminds me of you

And I wake up

Reading

Memories of you tucked between the pages

Of everything I write

And

The nights are long

The miles are wide

but I’m all in the right

You and me

We won’t let go

Paper Fences

And this is just where I came in

Our cities burning

Broken words

Defined by the way we were

Filling the skies

But right now we are

Paper white picket fences

uptown state

Just dreams held on to

so far out

off sight

Tucked away

We both know

The lies we tell

The day we make

The pain we take

The bad bill we have to pay

Put off till another day

What kind of life is –

What kind of lie is –

What kind of love

Is this?

Would you stay with me,

If I told you the truth

Would you be a little bit closer

Oh I would be here for you

I would that I could

Get close to you

And

She says

She knows

You carry yourself

She says

She knows

He says

He pays the price

They both get theirs

Out of site

Out of mind

And she says

How can you choose what stays and what we give away?

The revelation

For any paradise …utopia

There must be a final solution

For all of us misfits

Outcast

Cut-off

Paper white picket fences

Caught in the wind and rain

She hears the drums

Drumming out

She plays her soul out loud

In the daylight

Too late for repeal

Too fast for dreaming

It’s time for freedom

It’s time for soul

It’s time to shake it out

She’s cast her chains to the ground

Oh sunrise

The tide is coming in

Oh life

The earth is breathing now

I would

That I could

Get close to you…