Rib Cages and Cigarettes

I'm singing on the inside, because my voice doesn't carry.
I'm running my hands over your back to feel the vibrations.
Your body is humming with a tragic passion.
Lower your kingdom on to me, your nicotine words on my neck.

Just because we're doomed doesn't mean we can't be doomed together.
Lay down in the snow with me and it'll wash us clean.
You count my ribs and I'll count your scars,
Stick with me baby and we'll go far.

You're clapping for my body, because I stand and get bare.
You're pushing on my muscles so they mold to your curves.
My body is filling with a deadly beauty.
Grind your soul into mine, your fingers poised on my lips.

Just because we're doomed doesn't mean we can't be doomed together.
Lay down in the sheets with me and it'll wash us clean.
You count my ribs and I'll count your scars,
Stick with me baby and we'll go far.

We're clawing for new oxygen, because we sizzled our atmosphere.
We're crumpling into reality again as the snowflakes burn outside.
Our bodies sewn together by the furious exchange.
Etch into the surface of my blood, your sleepy eyes on my heart.

Just because we're done doesn't mean we can't be quiet together.
Lay down in the past with me and it'll keep us clean.
You count my ribs and I'll count your scars,
Stick with me baby and we'll go far.


*** *** ***


I'm keeping this one. I want it for the book. I don't think it would transfer well to lyrics.

"They tell me I'm skinny, as if that's supposed to make me happy." -Angelina Jolie

Sin For Me

Sin For Me


Could you shoot me, please stop being nice to me.
I need you to be mean.
Take your love gun and fire now, because I need
to be put down. Your wonderful heart has ruined me.

Will you please just sin for me,
I need to feel your wrath.
Be greedy and save yourself,
or else I’ll devour your past.
Take pride and hide your trust,
few can out run my lust.

Could you batter me, please stop being soft to me.
I need you to be crude.
Take your smile and take a bow, because I need
to be blacked out. Your merciful face has scarred me.

Will you please just sin for me,
I need to feel your wrath.
Be greedy and save yourself,
or else I’ll devour your past.
Take pride and hide your trust,
few can out run my lust.

I’m sorry I can’t control my gluttonous appetite for your body. My envy blinds what I see. It doesn’t qualify for love if it’s only one sided, then it’s just a sin. Why can’t you sin for me?

Will you please just sin for me,
I need to feel your wrath.
Be greedy and save yourself,
or else I’ll devour your past.
Tale pride and hide your trust,
few can out run my lust.


This is a song that has been sitting on my heart for quite a while. I really long fucking while actually. I just sent it to my cousin, she's a recording artist. So I hope since it's no longer on my heart, soon it won't be on my brain either. But I'm not holding my breath. If you're asking why I didn't include "Sloth" in the lyrics, it's because it is included. If you read it enough you'll find it in there. I was the sloth, I should have never dragged it out so long. I should have walked away right when I knew. But we all fuck up, right? Besides, it makes for great music. I hope you hear this one on the radio, my rubber band boy.

"it doesn't qualify for love if it's only one sided, then it's just a sin. why can't you sin for me?" -Me

The Rules of More

Once upon a blog, I wrote about several rules that I wanted to try and live my life by. Well, those for the most part are still in play. But I do want to add some new things I've learned. And I'm going to confess to what I don't really follow any longer. The whole 'only meat from the ocean' bit, yeah, that's not happening. I'm an Italian! Somedays I need a good roast beef. Sometimes the only thing that can keep me from laying down on the highway is stuffed shells in a meat filled red gravy. Now, I am more then aware of the unhealthy side effects of eating meat that is ill prepared and full of preservatives and fillers. And the human body doesn't need to rely on animals as much as the American general public would have you believe. But, sometimes, I just need a fucking burger. Y'know?! Anyways.I still try to avoid fast food in general, and I am very strict about my dessert intake. I have reinvented my fashion more then one time, and when I wrote the first set of rules I was only wearing black, gray, white, and red. That is not the case any longer. Now it's black, gray, and cool colors only. I've also given up on skinny denim and displaying as much as possible. I sorta wrap myself up like a present these days; hiding instead of revealing. I'll leave the skin for the bedroom. I think the biggest downfall is not following my one drink a day rule. I think I'll try to reinstate that one once I'm a father, for now though, I'll meet you at the bar. Which brings me to my first new commandment:

Always make friends with the bartender.

This will get you much farther in life and most likely keep more money in your pocket. In my experience, it pays to have patience while bellying up for booze. Remember that the person on the other side is just making a living and probably would rather be on the other side, like you are, with their own friends. So, for the love of all that is vodka, cut them some slack. Show a smile, use your manners and treat them like an old college friend that your happy to spend time with again. Who knows how to make a double stiff whip and cran, five times, but only charge you for two. You'll be happier, they'll be happier, and your wallet will be happier. Which brings me to new commandment number two:

Make as much money as possible.

I don't care how. I don't care when. I don't care what you have to do to get it. Just. Make. Money. Don't be greedy, don't be cruel; do be eager, and do be ambitious. Like the hyper ambitious material girl herself. Be bold. Be active. Be driven. And be any other adjective that this seasons fragrance industry has chosen to convince you you are. My favorite is from a fictitious beauty creme ad from a Sharon Stone movie, it goes a little something like this: Be more.

I'm trying to be more, are you?


The New Rules:

-say no to fast food
-four desserts a month
-the three date rule
-the first date rule
-the no bullshit rule
-work out everyday, somehow
-keep a calendar, stick to it, follow it
-create a budget, stick to it, follow it
-make your fashion, and stay loyal
-read more
-befriend the bartender
-make as much money as possible


"I'm tough, I'm ambitious, and I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay." -Madonna

SuckerPunch My Anger

Right. So. It's been almost a year since I've done a proper post on here. The most recent ones don't really count. Those were just records, something to be filed away, certainly not the point of this little thing. I remember when I would sacrifice sleep and creature comforts in order to post one at least every week or so. I guess I had a little more free time back then. It's not like I don't have things to talk about these days. Obviously I do. But my whole brain has kinda shifted and entered a new mindset. I hadn't even realized it until recently. I use to be a much more open person. Open with emotion, open to the idea of love, open to opportunities and open to life itself. I think that has all been knocked out of me. I am much more grounded and realistic (on the border of cynical) then ever, if that's even possible. The only thing that I believe in anymore is the concept that one day I will, again, have a bedroom of my own. Decorated, cleaned and designed by me. Whether it be in a shared apartment, house or loft. Or, God willing, a place of my own. I still get so angry about what happened and how I ended up sleeping on a air mattress in my parents condo, none of it was really due to my bad habits. It's not like I irresponsible or stupid or unwise with money or my health. It was a total outside force. Some random acts of violence, and boom! Nothing is like what it use to be. Now, I had made up my mind to move back to Chicago once my current lease was up, but I hadn't told anyone but my Ma. So she told me that I just got to come back quicker. Yes, true. I could be in worse situations. Or I could be dead. So all in all, I'm doing alright.

I try to channel the constant and daily anger I feel into something more productive. Like how to get ahead at my two jobs, that I am wildly overqualified for. Or how to train harder and push myself longer at the combat style exercises I do these days. Or I let it fuel my imagination, instead of getting angry at what's around me. Part of how my brain works these days is by not sweating the small stuff. My tattoo explains it all. As long as I have a place to sleep and food to eat at the end of the day, I'm happy. Eventually I'll build something for myself again, better and more secure this time. I know I can do that. I just have to keep fighting for it. Life sorta sucker punched me, knocked me to the floor with blood in my mouth, but it didn't kill me. So, I'll grab a weapon and start fighting for what I believe in. For what I want.

I am a little more closed off and harder then I use to be. A little more protective and cautious. Not so eager to make a mistake, just so I can learn a lesson. I've learned quite a lot over the last three years, and now I am back on the dog track I grew up on. Ready to show what I got and fight for what I want to get. Who knows, it might even be fun.


"You have all the weapons you need, now fight!" -Sweet Pea

My Farewell Note

If you were able to read my last post, then you know what's been going on. The most recent update is that my house in Grand Rapids was broken into, vandalized and myself and my roommates were robbed. This, coupled with the earlier threat on my life, has made me leave Grand Rapids. I think my time in that city has come to an end, although it is abrupt and unfortunate, it seems to be clear. I left in the middle of night, a few hours after the break in, so please forgive me for not getting to say goodbye to any of you. I miss you all so much, and will stay in touch as best I can. Right now my mind is overwhelmed with all the recent, terrible images and scenes of what has happened lately; but I will work through this so that I can eventually remember all the good times I had in that city. My first house on woodlawn. Walking to the village for burgers at the Derby Station, or ice cream at the junction. Meijer trips at all hours of the night. My time living with "my guys" on the northeast side. Walking downtown to go dancing and drinking. The great restaurants on cherry street. All the wonderful friends I made. All the great people I met. I'm going to miss it, you, everything so much. I had some amazing times in Grand Rapids, and I learned and grew a lot from everything that happened. So, as a favor to me, lock your doors and take care of yourselves. I will love/miss you all. Farewell Grand Rapids.

Love,
me

For the Record

I'm writing this so there is some form of a public file that states what has been going on. Since the police station was of no use or help to me, this is the closest thing I can get to a public record. So what I'm about to type is completely true and here in case anything should happen. This morning, July 7th, I was awaken at around 330 am in the morning to the sound of banging and yelling. The banging was on my bedroom window, I'm on the first floor of the house I currently live at, and the yelling was also directed towards me. The persons responsible for these actions were my neighbor and one of his friends. They were obviously drunk, and highly dangerous. They were banging on my window and yelling threats at me. Things that are vulgar and offensive and not worth repeating here. The thing that is worth repeating is the fact that they made reference to knowing where I sleep and where I am. They repeated the phrase "two days, two days" which I took as a threat upon my life. As in "two days until we try to kill you" or "two days until we do some kind of harm to your body". The specifics can vary. The point is, I felt/feel threatened for my life. I did not call the police because I knew that as soon as the cop car left, I would be on my own and have pissed them off even more. It's not like the cops were going to assign me a sentry or a guard. So I made up my mind to not call and to just go to the police station later that morning and report the incident. After they stood outside my window for about twenty minutes they began to argue with one another, it turned violent. I heard one choke out the other. These guys are not to be taken lightly. They are both military, one Marine the other Army, tall and probably trained to kill. The reason that they have chosen me for a target was because I tried to stop the party they were having on my porch the evening of July fourth. They know one of the girls I share my house with and were drunk that night as well and making a lot of noise. When I told them to take the party elsewhere that night, they threatened me then. I didn't think anything of it because I was use to hearing that sort of thing when you tell a drunk person a party is done with. But what happened this morning was unprovoked and directly towards me and my life. The police were of no help because they said as long as they were invited to the house by my housemate, they can not be removed. And they did not understand my reasoning as to why I didn't call when they were directly outside my window. I didn't file a report while I was there either because there would have been an investigative follow up with my neighbors, and the whole point of what I'm trying to accomplish is for them to not know I'm the one who got the police involved. The only thing the police could offer me was that "I try to move to another house". Clearly I am frustrated. I can either move or get a restraining order, but a piece of paper won't stop them from coming after me. So as for right now I've packed a bag and am staying with friends. I'm not sure what my next move will be or what I should do. The point of this is to just have some kind of time stamped record in case anything else should occur. I love my family and my friends. And if you have any suggestions or ideas, please contact me. Thank you.

iGod

Don't freak out, I'm not being blasphemous, it's a play on words. Keep reading and you'll understand. Lately I've taken to wearing tiny little keys on a silver chain around my neck. I found them when I was cleaning last month. I think once upon a time they were for the locks on my families luggage. Somehow they ended up in one of several junk drawers I have. So I looped them on my chain, at the same time removing my cross. This was probably a month ago. Then earlier this week, when I was talking with my landlord he asked me what the keys were for. We joked about it for a minute, and then I said I grew tired of wearing my cross. He told me that I should never grow tired of wearing a cross. And then I said I wasn't tired of God, but wearing a cross is more fashion then faith these days. In some social circles having a cross around your neck has become an act of rebellion. I don't think he understood what I meant, because things got awkward real quick. So then I switched subjects and told him I was moving out. That got a response. But I was being honest about the cross thing. I was sick of people making assumptions and comments and jokes about my wearing one. Classically, you're supposed to wear one if you are polite, proper, church going, non vulgar Christian who wants the world to know that you would hug Jesus if you saw him on the street. But I'm none of those things. Except Christian. I would own up to being Christian. But I have the mouth of a sailor, the manners of an Italian and haven't been to church since whatever the last church holiday was. So once people realize I'm not a Sunday Christian, and/or gay, they begin to think that I'm being disrespectful or that I'm mocking someone or something by wearing a cross around my neck. Most people assume that a swearing, passionate, homo( like myself ) wouldn't have a relationship with God. Or have faith in anything besides Madonna or Gucci. Or Vodka. Now I'll admit that I have been moved to every emotion known to mankind through the music of Madonna, but I don't bow down to her or plan on building an alter to her. I don't care too much for what Gucci does, or high fashion in general. And I tend to pray a lot when vodka is involved, but I don't think the prayer counts when you are hunched over a toilet vomiting. The truth is, I have faith. And I talk to God. I have so so so so much faith. And I probably talk to God more then you do. You see, when you are me, you have to have faith. You have to talk, argue, yell, and listen to God. Otherwise, well, otherwise I would have just been another suicide statistic. Or another victim of bullying who punched his own number. Or another homo who quit God due to a bullshit sermon delivered by a radical, asshole, pastor. But I am nothing if not durable. And I think that's due to God. I feel like my mother also showed me how to endure and be silently awesome too, but God probably gets most credit. It's because I'm durable that I never quit early, or gave up, or walked away. Lord knows I wanted to, several hundred thousand times, but I hung in there. I kept talking to him and yelling at him and even swearing at him, but at least we were speaking. And since I kept communication open, he kept opening doors. He kept talking to me. And he is a crafty man, he knew I wasn't going to be reached in a church on Sunday mornings, so he found new ways to talk to me. Like my iPod. I sort of thought as my running time as my faith time already. The sidewalks were my church. But not in that bullshit way where people stand on street corners handing out water bottles with scripture taped to it. I mean that when I go running I am by myself, so I can talk to God. And we can sort through things and try to find solutions to all the big fucking problems in my world. And the little fucking problems too. Sometimes he just sort of puts ideas or phrases in my head while I'm running, which is cool, but my favorite is when he picks the next song on my iPod and the lyrics tell me exactly what to do, or encourage me to keep on living. Sometimes songs play and I don't remember purchasing them on iTunes, or downloading them at all. But they're on there, and they begin pumping through my earbuds right when God wants them to. So, do I sound like a crazy person because I think God talks to me through my iPod? Well, I don't fucking care what you think. So keep it to yourself. I don't care if you think I shouldn't wear a cross. I don't care if you think I should watch what I say. I don't care if you don't like my bruised knuckles. I don't care if you don't like my personality. I don't care if you think I shouldn't talk about God. I don't care if you think I'm going to hell because I have the tendency of falling in love with guys. Why are you judging my anyways? You aren't part of the Holy Trinity. You don't get to judge me, only God can judge me. So piss off. Because at the end of the day you are just as dirty, rotten, bloodied, guilty, loathsome and terrible as I am. So I'm going to do what I'm going to do. And you can do what you want to do. And we can live in the same world. And sometimes I'll wear a cross. And if you come across me when I'm wearing it, don't make a stupid comment. Because that would make my cross. And then I'll have to curb stomp you. Capice?

"just like a prayer, your voice can take me there" -Madonna