Within All


For C.N. — I’m not exactly sure what you’re going through, but I wanted to share a few words with you.

How do they keep at it like this? All that jabbering,
When just breathing the humid air feels like drowning.
There are so many good things in life I’ve overlooked.

There are times when silence feels like our only friend. Like a vacancy consumes our hearts and our minds cannot fathom a reasonable explanation for the darkness that seeps through the cracks of our cerebellum. And we claw at the wall in hopes to find sure-footing so that we may one day escape the prisons we built for ourselves. Where being alone seems to heal all things and ease all things. And within all things we may find nothing but disappointment in ourselves because we’re not good enough. We’re not perfect enough to love. That we deserve what we’re given and should accept it as a noble truth.

We don’t have to speak. Not a word shared between us in confession or in contrition. Because my words cannot bring you comfort anymore than you can. Because, in the end, every one must bear the burden of his own sins and every person must be the fabricator of their own salvation, that not even a god can do for us what self-help in the form of self-conquest and self-emancipation can accomplish.

We are the twin verses. The sacred truths. We are the light and darkness in each other. For anger breeds anger, hatred breeds hatred. Joy breeds joy and love breeds love. And I have lived through both. I have seen my hands cause pain and I felt my heart take delight in such pain. And I have seen my hands bring peace and I felt my heart take delight in such peace. Let us be like the bright gods, and feed off the happiness.

I once asked you not to apologize to me. Apologies are not a sign of weakness, they are a sign of strength. And strength shouldn’t be taken so lightly. Apologize for the things done within your control. Apologize for the words spoken in anger or the slap that escapes your hand.

I’ve done some terrible things in my life that I can never apologize for. That I cannot take back. I let the anger and hatred fester in my heart and I have seen the tears spilled for me. Tears that are worth more than the cost of my existence. And for years, I lived in anger. For years, I didn’t think of the feelings of others. And for years, I abused and misused those who were unfortunate enough to love me. And each time I did, an apology escaped my lips. An apology that wasn’t worth a pound of truth because I never learned from the mistakes I made.

And for this, I do not deserve the apologies of others. Because these are the demons I carry with me. These are sins that burden me each day. And until I can right these wrongs, I do not want to hear a word of apology spoken to me.

I created a set of rules and a code of morals and ethics for myself. Guidelines spawned from common sense and various religions and social contracts. I have carved my own buddhism, my own christianity.

With everything, within all, there is hope. There is light. There is peace. There is love and there is solace. And one day, I hope to share it with those I love most.

Just a quick note: I wrote this entire post while listening to this song—your recording—on a continuous loop. It just felt right.

“I Wish for You to be Something Similar of Me”

"Baby's black balloon makes her fly"

A few years ago, I made a decision that changed my perspective on this whole charade of life. And while I will not touch on the subject – even though the wound has healed, I fear it’ll be something that I cannot speak of – I often ponder the outcome had my decisions been different.

The Ballast

We’re all looking for that special someone. A few of you are mistakenly calling them soul mates, as if destiny has any role in your falling in love. While I don’t believe in fate, I do believe in the idea of a sole mate. Someone whose flaws are easily ignored. The person who, even after a disagreement in philosophy, you cannot stay angry with. Someone you can imagine waking up next to every morning. The person who completes you, who is your balance in this world.

Sometimes it isn’t romantic, but most of the time it is. In a conversation with Jyg, I poked fun at her for having Keyla(?) spend the night. The ongoing joke is that they secretly had an affair due to their strange closeness – let’s face it, I don’t think I ever had a friend I was that close to, so all types of closeness is strange to me. They had a falling out – meaning, they stopped working together and therefore rarely saw each other, not as in a fight – which I attributed (jokingly, again) to their breaking up. Last night, they spent some time together which sparked the joke again – which she foresaw and decided to keep to herself to save from the ridicule. She let it slip, of course. I, of course, made the joke. And it ended with her saying, “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping (as in actually sleeping, pervs) with a good friend.”

“So, you’re saying I can sleep with my good friend?”


“He’d just make it weird.” After a moment’s thought, I added – as I hugged her, “Well, I guess I already sleep with my good friend.”

Definition(s) of Love

Martin – my assistant, not my brother of the same name – admits to loving his wife. He also admits to loving girls. He does not fear saying hi to a beauty he’s never met before. He honks his horn as the co-eds in short shorts pass by his car. He’d run over a family before giving up a glance at the sexy mamasita jogging by. Often, he adds me in his eye-fucking tirade, which I just smile and tweet his insatiable appetite for the finer sex.

Meanwhile, there’s my anonymous sidekick (see this post, and this one, and this one, possibly this one and I’m sure this one, as well) who’s the exact opposite of Martin. While he ogles girls – also having the habit of involving me in rating them – he doesn’t have the cojones to approach them. He’s made little headway in his “Plan A,” and seeks Plan B, C, and quite possibly D – it’s  nice to dream, I suppose.

One night, we discussed the subject of love – brought on by my joke (because sometimes I feel like being one of the guys, even it means failure) that Martin would be getting laid at Skip’s birthday party. While not the most philosophical bunch, I thought their idea of love to be interesting. There’s Martin’s half assed definition that allows him to look but not touch other women – which apparently failed when a player – rumor wise, anyway – asked him to pick up a prostitute. Meanwhile, Sidekick stated an adolescent point of view.

“So what happens if you hate all humans? People just disgust you. What then?” I asked. “Is it possible to love someone?”

Sidekick had no answer.

“And what if you meet one person that you care about. Who, despite everything you don’t feel, makes you feel like you’re human? Is that then love?”

Still he had no answers.


If I were a religious man, I’d say I was blessed to have people in my lives who love me in some way or another. I’d also say that I was blessed to be loved by some who are no longer of this or my world. Blessings, however, have little part in this. It’s not fated, it’s just something that happens. And that makes life a lot more pleasant.

Note: Title of this post is taken from a poem by Terr Di Matteo.

Writing & Writers

“Though it comes as no surprise”


via: Squoctobird


Meester Binx hinted that I might be afraid of seeing Miranda the other day. He suggested we should solicit her neighborhood – we were doing a door-to-door mission for [redacted] – and I shrugged, hinting that maybe we should focus on my neighborhood (big mistake, by the way). It’s not so much that I’m afraid of seeing Miranda, it’s that my mind is too occupied with other things that I really don’t want her – our – (former) friendship to take center stage, as it so often does. Besides, I have more on my mind lately.

I’ve been dwelling on the past a lot lately. But it’s okay, according to Scientific American Mind, it’s good for me to do so. And while it’s not to my liking, I’m focusing a lot of that what ifs. I started writing something I’m calling “Life Alternate” in which I view different scenarios of my past and where I’d be had I just taken the leap. From relationships that ended badly to those that never blossomed to undo decisions to taking those missed opportunities. I suppose it’s closure. Or maybe it’s masochism that drives me. Either way, I’m hoping that the project gets me writing again.

I also started penning a short story the other day. I don’t want to get into details, but it’s making me happy that I’m writing something again. Something that’s actually challenging me to write. Something I plan on editing and hoping to send off to some magazine. Hopefully. As for “Life Alternate,” I don’t know if it’ll become anything important to me. I don’t know a lot of things, really. I’m too tired to continue to write. I’ll talk about [redacted] some more tomorrow. I have nothing to really add to my current situation with the green company. However, the banal existence that has become my life in my days of working for [redacted] has sparked some inspiration. I like writing about banal situations. Banal, I love that word. And not because it’s anal with a b in front of it. That’s just silly.