the glorification of alcohol

I swallowed another sip of beer just after I decided to quit drinking. I swallowed another sip of beer to stop to start to keep on thinking. It changes the cadence. It changes the beat. The feelings: they mellow. The anxiety: it’s weakened. I swallow another sip of beer and think about my body softening. I think about the increasing pace of aging. I think about skin drying and wrinkling and falling off of fragile breaking bones. I think about my father and my future and my kids potential human beings depending on me. Depending on me? Depending on me while I depend on an end-of-day drink.

But it’s not all that tragic. It’s not that severe. Just a just-post-noon drink or seven to slow panicking thinking to slow scattered movements little bird-like twitches amounting to inaction. Amounting to still waiting still wanting. Amounting to sum nothings. This is me and this is my hobby it is my current and it is my forward-movement: moving forward at the pace of a slowly ticking clock. This is me drinking at just post-noon in the middle of a long-weekend-placed Saturday and listening to music and feeling the inevitable tragedy of aging too young of aging too intoxicated of exchanging growth opportunities for slight simplicities such selfish exit ramps.

What else is out there? I wouldn’t know. What else is out there? The answer’s at the bottom of a bottle. Nothing more nothing more nothing more but a single solemn drop. Nothing more nothing more but some sun and some suffering and a whole big world containing infinite infinities. Nothing more than that.

the growing need for an expansive vocabulary – part III

The feeling of wanting to have so much to say but not being able to think of anything due to already having said so much during an overextended period of time which causes new words get caught on finger tips and on the tips of tongues out of fatigue and the unwillingness to repeat repeat repeat forcing the mind go blank with emotionblock in the absence of being able to turn old emotions still felt strongly but now of inappropriate intensity into some new hypertwisted words and overminced phrases. There should be a word for that feeling.

a place called home

I watch the world through the front window of my first floor apartment on a one way street. I watch cars drive by and people walk and I know not where they’re going, but where they have momentarily been. I see sunlight bend and change directions with the lightening and darkening of days. I see trees bloom and shed leaves, snow fall and melt, and neighbors come and go and get replaced.

I watch the world through the front window of my first floor apartment on a one way street, and the background shifts slightly, but there is no plot. I hear voices having conversations, but they’re reduced to misplaced mumbles. I hear rain falling, but inside I stay dry. I hear the wind blowing and the clinking of chimes, but the air around me is still save for the tiny gusts of breathy sighs.

I watch the world through the front window of my first floor apartment on a one way street, through half-closed blinds to secure the required privacy of fear. Inside two kittens sit perched on windows ledges, and they watch the world from my same perspective as I watch them long for the outdoors. Inside plants grow in indirect light and I feed them tap water and watch them as they wither. Inside I watch the world through the front window of my first floor apartment on a one way street.

an effective blog post

Communication is oh so important what with today’s ever increasing use of internet-based media to stay [in-touch, invested, non-incommunicado] with other [members, people, humans] in a [member, person, human]-based society. Through [time, trial, tribulation] I have [learned, realized, undiscovered] that communication aids in the [strengthening, structuring, sabotaging] of [personal, interpersonal, impersonal] relationships and it can be oh so important if words have to be [said, heard, perceived] to get [important, imperative, mixed] messages across to those with [ears, eyes, sensory perception]. The [trick, secret, goal] to [developing, continuing, strengthening] [strong, positive, better] relationships is [effective, verbose, communicative] communication. Without communication relationships [dim, flicker, fade, decay, wither, wade, wear down, wear out, weather] whether you [mean, imply, intend] the opposite to be true. So few [members, people, humans] [understand, implement, utilize] effective communication, so I [over-explained, over-obscured, under-proofread] it for [no one, no one, my own self-satisfaction]

buying time

A key turns in a door and a timer’s given pause from counting moments counting value-added increases on a desk. A key turns in a door and one heart races with excitement: a welcomed distraction from some visitor: a visitor returning home. Two doors open to one living room (an entranceway): filled with footprints crossing beaten paths but nothing more: never more. Two doorways face a central point with two figures standing in them: a daily meeting unscheduled ill-planned ignored but not forgotten. Two pairs of eyes are locked with expected unsurprise as one hope still standing crushed defeatedly subsides. Two pairs of eyes face one mistake repeated still existing in a house they both call home: cohabitating, living separately.  A quivering hello is greeted with slight shoulder shrugging, as distracted eyes decide to answer a cell phone’s focal screen. One racing heart is slowing but still unbroken beating because breaking would require an unexpected unreturned feeling. A timer is unpaused on a desk where work’s residing as the moments regain value and the past is waited out unwinding.


Yesterday, I set out to do nothing,
and so I met my goal.
It wasn’t easy to accomplish
with a thought-heavy head
so easily guilted
by non-motion.

I had been inching forward
with a self-defined momentum,
but no tires screeched
as I paused
to watch the shapes the clouds made
as they passed overhead.