Stolen Goods

Earlier tonight one of my good friends confessed to stealing thousands of dollars via shoplifting when we were all in high school. I find this outrageously juicy and entertaining. It sort of makes me feel more human in a way. I always thought I was the only one hiding some very scandalous secrets and doing some dangerous behaviors, but it turns out we were all acting like criminals. I think we all steal things in one way or another. Whether we steal moments by not fully participating in them, or by robbing each other of the opportunities to help one another. Unfortunately we don't get to look as dashing as Cary Grant in To Catch A Thief, the lack of fashion and glamor makes it all seem a lot more common. I think we steal more then we realize: music, coffee refills, silver ware from IHOP. Alright, maybe the last one is just me, but still, you know what I mean. But there are also things we steal in a metaphoric sense, like minutes and moments and entire chunks of life. It's easy to say that certain people have stolen chunks of my life away from me, but that sounds so pathetic. It's just odd to realize that someone only thought of you as a shiny diamond to snatch, and not a trusty watch to wear on the daily. You end up feeling robbed, as if they stole a couple months of your life. Which is ironic to me because I always wanted a guy to steal me away from everything, but not in the hostage kind of way. These days, I go back and forth between wanting to be stolen away and wanting to be left along in my display case. Silently working on becoming more shiny in hopes to become a long lasting time piece.

why do queers always go for the diamonds...they're friggin stupid.

three days till Black Friday

oh, and I stole this picture from The Sartorialist. I wouldn't mind him stealing me.

Time Goes Bye

When I was really little I got lost in a Target. Not so much lost, has separated from my family. I remember it very well. I stopped in front of the watches to look at the cool Batman watch, and the Power Ranger watch and the Ninja Turtle watch. They were so cool to look at because they were bright and lit up and made tick tock noises. So there I stood mesmerized by the time pieces when I suddenly realized I was standing all by myself. It wasn't long before a nice worker lady scooped me up and was about to take me to the front desk, or whatever desk they take lost children to, but before we got to there my mom had caught up to us and taken me back. It wasn't so much a traumatic experience as it was a learning experience. I already knew not to wander away by myself, and not to run immediately to the toy aisle, so there was no lesson about staying put or minding where you are. The lesson I walked away with that day so many years ago was this: time sucks. Ok, so I didn't phrase it like that back then. But I discovered that time is a tricky, unfriendly, mean thing that is evil to us. I tried to stand still for just a moment, and I wound up lost and in the arms of a stranger. Funny how that works. It's still applicable to me today too. I have no time to write, or create or draw or paint or do leisure reading. All of my hours and minutes are broken up into categories. Work, school, eating, sleeping, miscellaneous. And then those categories are broken down further into subcategories. My life is just thirty minute intervals. This might sound like I'm complaining, but it's more of me being surprised. Again and again and again. How times goes bye so quickly. It up and friggin leaves, just walks out the door. And it takes everything with it. Places, experiences, laughter, tears, people...love. Try as you might, you never get to stop and stare at the watches, because even if you do they are still ticking away. Eventually you reach the day when no one, stranger or not, will be there to pick you up. Because that takes time out of their day. And who can afford to do that when time goes bye so quickly?