something amazing is how nervous i can be leading up to and during an exam, and how quickly i can forget about it when it's over.

my prayer for the evening is for it to be tomorrow at noon.

or better yet, friday at noon.

I thank the gods daily for the gift of the fairer sex.

Dad and the Tree

The bald cypress in the backyard was the tallest thing I’d ever known when I was four years old. I remember tripping over the knees while running through the thick grass. Eventually I learned where they all were and could dodge them with feline grace. I learned to defeat the tree on the ground, but I never would climb it. I was always a little scared of heights. The live oaks in the front yard I could climb the same way I could climb on my dad’s arms, there’s was a solid embrace; but the cypress scared me. It was just so tall!
One afternoon my dad, on a dare, decided to climb the cypress tree. I remember watching him climb branch to branch, the thrill in my stomach, nauseating but exciting. Witnessing his feat to me was like witnessing Hercules slaying a pride of six-headed lions. Dad was my mythical hero. He’d go away for the day and bring home dinner, a sling full of ducks or an ice chest full of speckled trout and redfish or a truck full of deer. He could fight, sing, cuss, laugh, run, and drink better than anyone you know, and he knew the words to every rock and roll song. He was a man’s man and I hoped then to be just like him. And now he’d gone and conquered the giant tree and climbed straight up into the sun! All I could do was stand there in awe, staring and squinting like it was the face of God.

RE: Some Hates

I-h-a-t-e-t-e-x-t-m-e-s-s-a-g-i-n-g-.
I hate cell phones, cold on my cheek, cold in my ear.
I hate reality teevee, I hate celebrity gossip entertainment, I hate zoo cage glamour.
I hate sex for money, money for drugs, and drugs for sex.
I hate email, instant chatting, webcam cocksucks.
I hate advertisements on the insides of my eyelids.
I hate iPod iSolation. I hate apples and windows.
I hate hackers and I hate antihackers.
I hate viruses, Trojan horses, and other more sinister plagues.
I hate surfing and I hate superhighways.
I hate self-service-self-check-out-at-home-internet-shopping.
I hate pop-ups, banners, and trumpet fanfares.
I hate the way my eyes ache after staring at my monitor,
I hate the ghastly glow of it in the lonesome dark.

freak the fuck!

holy shit, exams are gonna suck.

someone come mellow my mind.

Sometimes a little is a lot.
Like trying to drain the last shallow pool
of water from a pot of spaghetti without a colander.

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Sand and Salt

I remember on the beach with you under the stars
trying so hard not to be heard, wanting only to look like the sand.
Your younger cousins were there on the edge of the water,
flashlights scanning for crabs in the shallow surf.
But you and me, we hoped to be alone there on the sand,
and under those late summer stars we knew we were nothing but sand.
We had spent half the night looking for a place
to be with only each other, away from your family,
like fish packed in every room of the beach house.
We found a spot high on a dune, sea grass all around
and the sound of the gurgling ocean brought up on the breeze.
I loved the smell of salt on your dark brown hair
and on the fragile skin of your shoulders and back.
It was like breathing the beginning of the earth and all of life.
But sand crumbles, and like a sandcastle there at the edge of the water
where your cousins played and squealed for crabs,
my memories of you, of making love covered in sand,
and your sandy fingers caught like fish in the net of my sandy hair,
and our sandy lips gravelly, each pair against the other,
all those memories like sand are slowly eaten by the insatiable sea.
Still, when I walk the shoreline, the smell of salt
stings first my nostrils, and then my eyes, and then my mind.

A broken window in every house on this street,
a broken tooth or two inside every head.

Fire and Water

"When you step to centre-stage with Leo the Lion, it's a cosmic case of light and dark, day meets night. Sensual Cancer, a Water Sign, is governed by the changing Moon, ruler of the night, while dramatic Leo, a Fire Sign, is ruled by the steadfast Sun, the brilliant Day Star. The sexual energy burns hot, at least in the beginning, for Fire and Water make a steamy connection. Cancer is creative, yet deeply emotional and quite tender at heart, despite having a tough shell, while Leo is bold and generous, big-hearted yet ego-centric."

*************************

We all make our own beds.

Your own feet are your only freedom.

fuck who you want love is a lie that don't mean much.

***********************

Thank you Jesus for rock and roll nights sweating under spotlights,
the smell of burning blood and your jeans on tight.
Ears banging, fingers drumming, tap-dancing in puddles
on tables. Whiskey warm, barroom air thick and dangerous.
Your throat is a knife and I’m cut and I’m bleeding.
Oh, with my rock song I’ll get to you. Oh, with my rock song I’ll get to you.
Pockets ringing, quarters and dimes, keeping a tempo, keeping the time.
Five dollars for the band, five dollars for a drink,
five dollars in my hand, five dollars down the sink.
Five dollars for your girl, five dollars for the bar,
five dollars for your world, five dollars you’re a star.
Oh, with my rock song I’ll get to you. Oh, with my rock song I’ll get to you.

Ships

Sometimes in the tarry night, when the black is thick,
I wake up and cannot sleep. Still, in the dark,
a part of my heart knows she is awake as well.
I wonder, if we were both to look heavenward
at the same star, could a sextant triangulate
the distance between our hollow, wooden bedrooms?
We are both ships on the same sea, and the sky shows no moon.

Her eyes, her eyes,
one filled with truth,
the other filled with lies.

What a chump.

Nothing but a beggar and a fool.

"She came along to turn on everyone . . ."

This week I have the real potential to go on four dates with four different women. I have not had one (not insane) date since the beginning of the semester. Something strange is afoot.

So many questions are running through my head: would it be wrong of me to go on four dates in one week? Could my brain manage such an endeavor? What the hell do I want anyway?

And then there's that other one who is currently half-way across America.

What's a country boy to do in this age of computers and time machines?

*********************************

Also, happiness is an immensely attractive quality.

"I like the peace in the backseat . . ."

My grandmother was a beautiful woman with a smile that would light your face on fire. I was just standing in my kitchen cooking beans with carrots and potatoes and rice, my supper for this evening. That's something she always used to cook for me, times when she'd invite my family over, or the whole family, or just me when I was on my lunch break. I was listening to "Rebellion (Lies)" off The Arcade Fire's Funeral. That album always makes me think of her, for obvious reasons. There I was, cooking and listening and thinking of her. I loved her and I hope she knew how much.