Sunday, August 23, 2009

Walking And

And then it happens one day that you’re walking
and talking to just yourself
and you’re certainly not doing it for your health
and you look around and don’t know where you are
and someone stops and asks if you need a ride
and no station offers the same kind of contemplation
and you say “no, I’m really just looking for a destination
but thanks” and you can tell by the look on his face
that no matter how you both arrived at this place
he’s just realized the only difference between him and you
is that he’s in a car.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Okay, Enough With The Poetry Already

Yesterday I accidentally ran over my neighbor's dog, and the dog says "Hey Matt, watch where you're running, jackass!" I didn't even know that dog knew my name.

Tonight I made dip by putting Funyuns, mayonnaise and some other stuff in the blender. I was using the blender for my goldfish bowl at the time so I guess there's a little fish in it too. And a bigger fish. Oh, and a treasure chest.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Days That End In Why

And then you wake up on your lonely floor
One shoe on, one under your ear
And you’re not sure if the road maps on the door
Can tell you how you got here

And you go to a bar where loud men discuss
Sports scores that shouldn’t but somehow
Do involve cussing
That started decades ago.

And the next bar raises men
That also cuss, and shout outright
About which light beer is best and then
You pick a side just to even the fight

And the next bar is actually a winery
And you know you’re going too far
And though you’re in your finest finery
You’re still a little out of place

And at the next place they’re nineteen, maybe twenty
And after one song on the jukebox
You can see that there are plenty
That want you to leave so you think about it

And then they make you and you’re glad
You took a cab here because the good places
Should be open soon and Why are you feeling sad
When you could be having more fun with her?

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Popcorn

Yuck - If you haven't read the beginning of the story I posted last week, don't bother. It's really not good. Ungood, even. And I had such high hopes for it. Maybe I'll take another stab at it this week. Or two stabs. Or maybe I'll just run it right through the heart and put it out of its misery.

Monday, August 3, 2009

New Pic, No New News.

So I don't know if I've mentioned how much I like James' 'Laid' album, but I really do. And I'm having a hard time figuring out some of the song titles. I have one of those old-fashioned cd players in my car that doesn't list song titles, only track numbers - and that's really where I listen to most music. Gotta fill those two hours a day with something, eh?

Another thing I liked this week was the movie "Wristcutters: A Love Story." I totally dug it. I think the main actor is going to be the next John Malkovich, in that you've seen him in lots of movies but you can't name any of them. This is also my second favorite performance of Shannyn Sossamon, second to her part in "Rules of Attraction" which I can only say I liked because I haven't read the book yet. The book, as it happens, was written by Bret Easton Ellis, and if the movie version of this book was as weak as the movie version of "American Psycho" then it's probably got something to be desired. I'll let you know if and when I find out what.

Oh, and would you believe I found out today that I can take out the 256mb card in my phone and stick in a 4gb for like 12 bucks? Also it turns out that I can use the adapter, which came with the phone but has been riding in a bag in my trunk since September, to upload my phone pics right to my computer! A few years ago I probably would have freaked out about the machines taking over, but now I have conveniently conformed and as I am feeling pleasantly jingled from a bottle of chardonnay and a few stouts, I will take my leave and try to write something more interesting next time. Oooh, I started a story, maybe I will leave you with that. As of yet untitled.




(story start)

11:30 p.m.
New Year’s Eve – 2008

It has come down to one half hour.

I scrawl the words across the paper on my dusty desk, hoping she will be able to make sense of them, not confident that I am making the letters right. I feel a single light scratch down the back of my neck, and I know that she understands. As she moves her hand into my hair I feel her fingers on my scalp, and the accompanying involuntary shudder of pleasure threatens to overtake my terror. I set the pencil down and focus only on her touch, hoping I will be able to remember how it feels, hoping it will be enough.















12:45 a.m.
New Year’s Day – 2006

I guess this is where things get complicated.

Forty five minutes ago I was sitting in a friend’s living room, listening to Dick Clark officially check us out of 2005. I was a little nervous – I tried to play it off, but with only one drink the entire night I was socially unlubricated, dry-humping the crowd through its jeans. I told myself I was silly, that nothing was going to happen, there was no logic to it. But then I lifted my champagne glass to my lips after toasting and my heart stopped, briefly. The champagne didn’t smell bad – I wish it had. It didn’t smell at all.

Nothing did. Melanie was standing next to me, laughing, so I leaned over to smell her hair – to bury my nose in her crinkly brown locks that always smelled like coconut. I even poked fun at her for it sometimes… as my sense of smell had developed in the past year, I could always tell when she was around because she smelled like someone had squirted sunscreen all over her. It was usually pleasant. Now, the only way I could tell it was Melanie’s hair in my hand was that she was giggling and asking if I wanted to play with her coconuts. I tried to smile and asked if she could give me a ride home.

You might be wondering what’s complicated about this. At the stroke of midnight, less than an hour ago, my sense of smell abandoned me completely. Not so strange, right? Certainly nothing that can’t be dealt with. The bad part is that last New Year’s, exactly one year and 58 minutes ago, I went blind. Thirty years old, relatively good health, nearsighted in an unintimidating way – and as the curtain closed on 2004, the shades were drawn over my eyes absolutely.

It had been a bad year – I don’t deny it. I had been served divorce papers only 7 hours prior, and it’s true that I drank harder and with more fervor than I ever had, even for New Year’s Eve. But did I literally drink myself blind? It sounds silly, but I knew that some of my close friends believed it. I’ve been taking it pretty easy with the booze since then, just in case. Karma can really buck you, and I knew it. And here it is, a year later, and with one glass of champagne I’d apparently gone and drank myself anosmic. Let’s see you bastards explain this one. It’s a bittersweet victory, one which I have no choice but to accept. I was really starting to rely on my sense of smell. This is going to end badly, I can tell already. I don’t know if you’ve put it together yet, but it looks (no pun intended) a little like this:

New Year’s Eve 2004: lost sense of sight
New Year’s Eve 2005: lost sense of smell

I’m not much for math, but I’ve been learning a lot more about physiology than I’d ever dreamed. If I don’t figure out what’s happening to me by next year, and how to stop it, what will happen to me?