Ladies and Gentlemen, We're Floating in Space

I heard what was our song on the radio was yesterday. I got halfway through before I had to turn it off. I thought I could handle it, but I just couldn’t. I thought I was moving on. In a small way I am. I still love you and still miss you, but each day it’s a little less. I accept the fact that you’re gone and not coming back. Each day is a little lighter then the last. Every once in a while the dark clouds return and rain on me for a bit. I try not to let it bother me. I’m getting better at ignoring the rain and moving on.




There are new people in my life now, old friends, new friends and friends I forgot I had. I don’t know if I’m just using them as distraction from my life or not. I try to concentrate on keeping my mind busy, keeping occupied. I’m trying new things and it seems to be working. One new friend has inspired me to take the plunge and do something I’ve always wanted to do but never bothered trying.



In a way, you still inspire me. I still want to be a better man. You gave me lightness for 12 years and I thank you for that. I never thought I deserved some one like you, and I guess I was right all along. I will never speak an ill word of you. You are an amazing person and I’m honored knowing that I was in your heart for that time we were together.



Goodbye.





It’s time to move on.

I'm in with the out crowd

I’m in with the out crowd




It seems that the lower dregs have always attached themselves to me. The losers and outcast were always my friends in school. Not pretty enough for the A-list cliques, not rich enough.. I’m more comfortable with them.



We would sit and make fun of them. Their perfect little worlds with parents who always got along, had jobs, never had to wonder where they were going to get dinner, always knew where home was. We would convince ourselves that they only thought they were happy. They didn’t have the problems like we did.



We were so jealous. We had to get our clothes at thrift stores and clearance racks. We would get free school lunches. We wore the wrong clothes. We listened to the wrong music. We sucked at sports and had no clue how to talk to girls. We never got invited to the parties or dances at school.



Of course now that I’m older I realize that they were just like us. They had the same hopes and fears my little group of losers had. They just dealt with it differently.



Even to this day when I see a group of people having fun, I wonder how they do that. How do they talk and get along? Was I born with a defect in my brain? Why can’t I ever be part of the group? After all these years I’m still a bit envious of them. Everybody wants to be popular. Everyone craves attention.

Zen Arcade

I have a band name tattooed on my arm. It wasn't topical. I do not regret it. If I was in the chair I would get the same one. I've touched upon my upbringing. It sucked. We can agree on that. It shaped the person I am today. I am not bitter about it. I just don't care.

In 1986 I heard a song on the radio. The station was 88.1 KUCR , a collage station out of Riverside. They would play punk and what is now considered indie rock. I heard a song called Broken Home Broken Heart by Husker Du. It was nothing like I had ever heard before. It's like this song was written just for me. A two minute punk rock blast had had captured everything perfectly.

I called the station and asked what album it was on. The next day I ditched school hopped on a bus to San Bernardino. I got off at the Mall. I can't remember the name of the mall. I think it's called the Carousel Mall now. I walked to Licorice Pizza across the street and bought it. Zen Arcade by Husker Du. The cover was bleak. A couple people standing in a junkyard. I looked at the names of the songs on the back cover. I couldn't wait to get home.

I went straight to my room and put the record on. I was completely blown away. The power , the urgency. Everything was perfect. Every note rang true with me. I understood every word. Everything was about me. I didn't feel alone anymore. Someone understood. Someone knew what was going on.

Whenever I would fight with her I would lay down with my headphones on and dissolve into Zen Arcade.

The name Husker Du translates to Do You Remember.

I had Husker Du tattooed on my left arm. I never want to forget the pain and horror I went through. I never want to forget that no matter how hard things are, there is somebody going through the exact same thing you are. They will survive it and you will too.

The Poetic Half Truths of High School Journal Keepers

I don’t remember when I met her, I don’t remember if we ever talked. I just remember her.  She filled my 9/10^th grade heart. I would go out of my way between classes just so I could see her. Every once in awhile our eyes would meet and both of our heads would immediately drop down to our feet. I would sit at a lunch table and hide in with the crowd and sneak peeks while she ate. A little stalkerish, I know, but I was in love. I wrote her name in huge red letters inside my Pee Chee folder. I wrote it inside so no one would know. In my head we would have all these conversations about everything and nothing. At night I would sit in my room imagining what our little life would be like together. I would imagine going to Holiday Roller Rink with her. Holding hands and skating together, Kissing her goodnight at the end of the night, winning her a teddy bear at the carnival, talking on the phone while watching the same TV show. Innocent 15 year old thoughts. To this day I still remember her in her red and white striped bikini, standing up and spreading out her towel.

We recently got in touch again. A lot has changed for both of us. But at the same time a lot is the same. She told me she felt the same way back then. We were both just to damn shy to do anything.

Growing up I would think of her, wondering what she was doing now. Wondering if she remembered me and if she thought of me from time to time.

Am I crushing again? Who knows, I’m just happy that she and are I talking for the first time in twenty years.

Getting to know each other again for the first time.

A brief history of amazing letdowns

I was standing under at palm tree. I was wearing a bright orange shirt with Fred Flintstone on it, blue shorts. I think I was barefoot.

My father was talking to my grandpa. “We’ll have to go to Mammoth.”

“Will you be able to get the whole thing in the truck?” asked grandpa.

“Sure”

All I heard was the word mammoth. I wanted an elephant and they were going to get it for me!  My father drove the truck around. It was White with green stripes down the side. On the trailer was a green elephant painted on it.

That proved it for me. I was getting that elephant. Dad had an elephant delivery truck. They can’t hide it from me.

Dad and grandpa drove off. I didn’t see them for hours. I knew that there weren’t any elephants where we lived so this made sense to me. My mom and grandma were in the kitchen. I was playing in the living room with my Weeble-Wooble tree house watching Yogi Bear. I overheard bit and pieces of conversation. “What do we do with the trunk?”

One of them said. “We’ll deal with that later. Come on, we have a lot of food to cook.”

Elephants have trunks. Elephants eat a lot.

I was excited. The truck showed up. My elephant was here! They pulled in and parked.

“Daddy can I see it can I see it?”

“Well you are sure excited.”

They opened the door of the trailer. My heart sank.

 It was a tree stump and part of the trunk.

I hated my family for a few days after that.

White Trash Heroes

We lived in five different places in San Pedro. An apartment, three houses and a travel trailer in a dirt lot. My parents never paid the bills or rent. The first house was infested with cockroaches. I would take a bath and watch the roaches crawl around the walls.

One day I asked if I could go out and play. My moms said yes but that we were leaving soon so don’t go far away. On the next block over was a construction site. I would play in a sand pile there. I took some army men and a plastic tank and went to the sand pile. An hour or so my parents drove up. They started yelling at me for being so far away and that they went to the grocery store without me because they couldn’t find me.

When we got home I was sent to my room for the rest of the day.

I lay in my bed bored out of my mind when I noticed a little hole in my wall. I put my finger in and started pulling out little pieces of plaster. I kept pulling out pieces of wall till my mom walked in and saw the now three inch hole in the wall. She grabbed my by the shoulders and slapped me across the face twice. I had to sit on the couch the rest of the day.

The second house was across the street from the first one. It was lime green and had thick turquoise blue carpet. That’s all I remember about that place.

We were evicted after about three months. We borrowed a little travel trailer and put it on a dirt lot near the harbor. Every night a bunch of men would drink beer in the lot. They would knock on the windows and stare into the trailer. We had to go to the bathroom outside.

The only thing I remember about the apartment is I would go dumpster diving. I found a few gallons of white paint. I decided that the dumpsters need painting. I found a paint brush and painted white stripes down the front of the dumpsters.

I stated Kindergarten while living there. My mom decided I better study before school stated. She bought me a notepad and a pencil. She told me to practice my ABC’s I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. I drew the number eight. I filled the pages of little eights. She took the notebook from me to see how I was doing. When she saw all the eights she went crazy. “My soon is stupid! How did this happen? How can you be so stupid?” I just sat there and said “I don’t know.”

Smack

“Go to your room.”

“Don’t come out till dinner”

Mom and dad got drunk. They forgot about dinner.

A change of pace.

If you haven't listened to The Go-Betweens, I beg you to seek out anything by them right now.

- Australian indie pop heroes the Go-Betweens are now a public works project. Mess and Noise reports that the Brisbane City Council has chosen a name for a new bridge in the city: the Go Between Bridge. Co-frontman Robert Forster told The Australian, "We've made records, and hopefully in 50 years' time someone will say, 'What's the story behind that bridge's name?' and someone else will tell them, and that will keep our music alive." The name is also weirdly perfect because you use bridges to go between things.