A Single Man, Countless Pains IV

Lately, there has been a lot of talk about THE FUTURE. Bum, bum, bummmmmmm. Where I might end up in THE FUTURE. How far away I'm going to be in THE FUTURE. How I'm going to pay for THE FUTURE. How soon before THE FUTURE becomes THE FUTURE. All this talk about it makes the present seem real crappy. Because when I think about what might come I have the luxury of thinking up the best possible outcomes. THE FUTURE looks perfect and amazing because it's all fictional. I can't decide if the present has gotten shittier, or if THE FUTURE has just gotten more exciting. I want to skip the next four months so I can see where I end up. Plus I'm getting sick of all this hot weather. It's muggy and sweaty and nasty. And I'm a little hung over. So I kinda want to sit in a air conditioned building for a nice long while. I'm going to see who wants to see SALT. THE FUTURE can take a break, I want to enjoy the afternoon. And this is another little something from my past, to continue with my July confessional. I think the past is the most honest time. THE FUTURE can be whatever you want it to be, the present can be very distorted, but you can't change the past; it just hangs there like a picture on a wall.


I don’t have….
Big pieces of chocolate cake

Peace of mind
Dependency on food
No effort days

McDonalds
Burger King
Taco Bell
Pizza after eight at night
No worries
Skinny enough waist
Smiley face cookies

An old voicemail message
A memory of the last kiss
Someone to speak to
Enough distractions
A good enough voice
Hair that behaves itself
Lips that don’t chap
Skin that doesn’t crack
Enough memories to run defense
The truth
Big enough sun glasses
Something that smells like you
Time to read
Self esteem
Lots of food
Happiness from mirrors
Movie star looks

A happy mouth
Food with oil
Food with grease
Food with frosting
Food with layers
Food with high fructose corn syrup
Food that is guilty
Enough time to run
A way of killing calories
……..you……..
……….I don’t have………..

…………………………you………………………...



"If it's going to be a world with no time for sentiment, Grant, it's not a world that I want to live in." -George Falconer

A Single Man, Countless Pains III

You know what I never understood? Rock stars who have great bodies. That was like a complete mystery to me. Members of Avenged Seven Fold, All American Rejects, Breaking Benjamin, Against Me!, and all the others. How do they stay so fit and jacked? Rock stars and work out routines do not go hand in hand, at least not in my head. Rock stars have terrible sleeping habits, even worse dietary habits, and probably the worst drinking habits in the world. And that's not even figuring in the illegal substances. But somehow they end up with Abercrombie and Fitch bodies that are covered with tattoos, scars and bite marks. But still, the muscle definition and sex appeal is totally there. I feel like they don't work as hard as us non-rocker mortals, but still get sex god bodies. Not fair. Even if you like the music, you still get slightly pissed off knowing they get fame, money and a flat stomach, all with what seems like no effort at all. Except my boyfriend Tyson Ritter, he deserves everything and anything he wants. But I bring this up, because it ties into my dating history. I have messed up points of view on the type of body I want my boyfriend, date, significant other, boy I'm sleeping with to have. I flip flop back and forth between wanting a guy who has a body like a model from Elite Model Management and someone who has the body of Paul Rudd. Both are desirable and sexy, but they are mutually exclusive of each other. The first is risky, untrustworthy, unreliable and dangerous. My mantra over the years has slowly become "never trust sexy", and for good reason. A guy deemed "sexy" usually knows it, and has the personality of a slug getting salted. Not to mention they almost always never have to work for their good looks, or only have to work one tenth of how hard the rest of us work. So that's why my dating mantra is what it is. But when you go with a Paul Rudd body type, they also have problems. Insecurities over their own body, strange drinking and eating habits, and they tend to question why I am with them. Due to the fact that I work out and take being fit seriously. So there is no winning. Kind of. What I need is a boy who works just as hard as I do. That way it all balances out. And it could be either an Abercrombie model or a Paul Rudd wannabe, I can get both. Not to brag, but I can get whatever I want really. The problem is, I usually want the wrong thing. But nowadays I have a clearer image of what I want. So I hope it appears soon. But I have decided not to commit to anything, unless it's AMAZING, in the next five months because I want to get the hell out of this city. As soon as I am certified, I'm getting the fuck out of Dodge. Maybe even as soon as December first. Who knows. I'm winging it. What I do know, is my past proves to me time and time again, almost no one I've encountered works as hard I do/did to make it work. I work hard to play my part. To be what the situation calls for, what it needs. I do what I can to be helpful and appreciated. To make sure everything goes easily, without flaw or problem. To make everyone calm and happy and content. I want to move on to my future so that I can remedy this sort of thing. It can be a strain. And sometimes all that working makes me want a break, a vacation, a dessert. So, part three of my July confessional.

You did handstands on my floor
Got impressed before we got through the door
Never knew what you would mean to me
Now you’re gone, done and I clearly see….

You were just Blueberry Pie
Something nice that caught my eye
Delicious, delightful the word “yum” suffices
You were another one of my vices
Always good to end the night with dessert
Never trust your heart because I’m just a flirt
You were just Blueberry-

Who could say no to arms like that
No one passes up a stomach so flat
Why say no when you could scream yes
You weren’t the worst but you weren’t my best…

You were simply Blueberry Pie
A tasty little natural high

"It takes time in the morning for me to become George, time to adjust to what is expected of George and how he is to behave. By the time I have dressed and put the final layer of polish on the now slightly stiff but quite perfect George I know fully what part I'm suppose to play." -George Falconer

A Single Man, Countless Pains II

It's so interesting to be without a job. A constant battle to enjoy my free time, and yet I feel like a degenerate because of having so much. I like being able to work out for three hours and not have other obligations or no energy in the first place because my job drained it all out of me. All I do is work out, run and fill out applications and email my resume to places. It makes for a very peaceful, and well toned, life style. A very cheap, and well toned, life style. I'm almost back to my high school body, but this time it's because I'm being smart about it. How did any of us survive high school? I have no idea. Actually I take that back. Lots of people loved high school. Tons of people would go back to it. I'm the minority when it comes to high school experience. I would probably go to war as opposed to being time traveled back to high school. I like to keep moving forward. I'm the only twentysomething I know who doesn't mind turning thirty one day. Once again, in the minority. Even when I don't own up to one, there's another reason I end up being placed in the minority pile. I don't mind it so much. It's comfortable here. It gives you lots of time to plan and guess about your future. There is no point in looking in the rear view mirror, unless your parallel parking. So I try not to. But, true to my word, I said I would post my past for the rest of this month. So here's another snippet of my untold past.



Dear Cxxxxxxxxxx,

I love you. It is just that simple, and it is just that complicated. I am scared, almost to the point of insanity, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Being scared means I have something to lose; you, and I don’t want to lose you, ever. I had an idea of what I wanted, what I was looking for, and you surpassed it. I was not sure if I would be allowed to be happy again, but you make me joyful. I am writing this now because it might be too soon to say it out of my head, even though we have said it without saying it. I am fine with waiting to say it, I can know for the both of us if I have to, for now. I do have worries, but nothing serious. I have never wanted to know about someone more then I want to know about you. To me, you’re the one.

-me

"For the first time in my life I can't see my future. Everyday goes by in a haze, but today I have decided will be different." -George Falconer

A Single Man, Countless Pains

I woke up this morning to the sound of one of the dogs vomiting outside my bedroom door. I couldn’t really get that upset because she is about as old as water. And her owners just switched the brand of dog food she eats, so I’m sure her stomach is refusing it and not her. So far, despite the uncleanly beginning, I’ve gone through my day in a fairly sane manner, so far. I sent out resumes. I filled in applications. Cooked a fantastic lunch. Went to my old job, for the last time, to pick up my last paycheck. But somewhere in there I made this silly mistake of watching a movie. I was going to watch something dumb with lots of explosions and car chases, but then made the fatal mistake of watching “A Single Man” instead. If you haven’t heard or seen the movie yet you really should. It’s great. It’s more then great. It’s wonderful. And haunting. And moving. And alluring. And heartbreaking. It lingers on you. I’m sure, hours from now, after I’ve gone for my run and came home and showered off and begin to read a book the movie will still be on me. Still be with me. It’s been a long time since something has stayed with me like this. So strongly, so powerfully, so unforgiving about it’s intensity. It reminded me of other things that have stayed on me for so long. Other things that I never got to tell people. Other things that I had to sneak away and hide and tuck out of sight. I decided, four minutes ago, that I too needed to vomit. Like the sound I woke up to, my brain wants to do the same. I want to throw up all that is inside me, all that doesn’t agree with me. A lot of which is saved on this very computer. Things I wrote several weeks ago, months ago, even years ago. So, for the rest of this month, I’m going to post all that I hide most dearly. All that I wanted to tell years ago, but didn’t get to. Everything I choked on, but couldn’t speak out. I’ve been gagging on things I’ve wanted to tell you for years, and now I’m finally going to throw them up. In hopes that not only my stomach, but my mind, will feel better. I never wrote the date on anything, and I don’t think I will post things in a chronological manner, so everything should be taken on its own. Even though it’s almost all connected and interweaved. So, to whoever reads this, you should really rent the movie. And, if you’d like, you can also read all about my past, the past of a single man.


This is so stupid. I know it. The world knows it. Every therapist would agree. This is so stupid. It’s not even funny or entertaining anymore. The rush of excitement and the feel of adventure and romance are completely vanishing. No one cares about this in the right way. Why should they? He lies and messes with everyone. He is twisted, dark, convoluted, tainted, full of an inky rotten blackness; but that is just what is on the outside. It is pathetic, how much time I spend thinking and worrying about him, it is pathetic. Both consciously and unconsciously, it is pathetic. Not even taking into account everything that has happened and been done in the past, the amount of time would still be considered pathetic. Like right now for example, I should be redoing a religion paper. An amazing, gracious opportunity given to me my by religion prof. and I’m writing this instead. Pathetic. Now this means I will probably be awake until some awful hour of the morning typing it and then suffering tomorrow because the lack of energy. Pathetic. I might have pathetic tendencies or behavior, but I myself am not pathetic. Apparently I am outrageously strong and powerful. Not that I am trying to sound conceited or immodest, because that is the farthest thing I want. I don’t even want to believe that I am strong and semi-unbreakable; but if I ever told anyone the whole entire truth of what happened, and if I told it with the emotion that it merits, then that person would realize that I am made out of stone. Or ice. Or that I am some kind of robot or something. Or that I am some kind of super strong hero without powers or a flashy costume. The point of this is to try and give a glimpse into how badly I care for him and how tortured my brain is because of it. A part of me knows that I should leave him alone, not because he is tricky and devious, but because he has caused such strain on my life. Not just me, but a lot of other people who are in my life; and that is unfair. No one important to him has ever been hurt by me or even heard of me. So I acknowledge that I am justified in wanting to erase him out of my life, which I am completely in the right if I chose to do that. But I don’t want to do that. Only God knows why I don’t want to. I believe that I’m still around him and still involved in his life and social circle because I am living truth of what he can do. Plus I am strong enough to handle everything that he throws at me; I’ll keep getting back up. Not like the dog returning to his master to get kicked again, but like the warrior who keeps getting back up to continue the battle. He can’t break me, he’s not strong enough, and I am too strong. One day he will break, and I don’t want him to be alone on that day. From what I can gather, very few people want to be there for him or to try and make him see how distorted he is. The island man has no objections of him giving out pictures of his anatomy to strange older men. The weather pattern is a slut and probably just as much of a head case. The buzz is probably in no position to dish out advice and maybe not even want to shed light onto the situation. Those are the three who he claims to be closest with, hardly a counsel worth trusting. I am not saying that I am the end all of advice and righteous speech, but I know I am a better option. This last round I was a little off, I wasn’t playing with my head entirely in the game; but now I am focused. Me and him are not a good idea unless we are friends. I am too distracted by him when he doesn’t even want to see my face, I could only imagine how my brain would explode if he were actually on my side. Far too much danger in that idea to think about it now, and far too fictional to spend any time on. My time is split between wanting to explain to someone how much he has done to me and how badly I want to not care about him, how I want to just give it up. That is just half of me though, probably less then half, just louder then the other side. The other side wants to sit down and deal with this like an adult, to state the facts and come at it with a mature attitude. He will never do that. He doesn’t like dealing with things that are real or contain too much truth. He needs distractions and drama and conflict to keep him from remembering all that has happened, all the ugliness that has been done to him. I realize that he would want to do that, I understand why he would want to shut it out; but that will only last you so long, and it is not a healthy way of thinking about things. He doesn’t take me seriously and he doesn’t think that I can be trusted or understand him; he is so wrong. I was too. I should have handled myself better in a lot of situations; I should have not been so sarcastic. I should have not gotten frustrated with his insults and smug attitude. I should have been less emotional and come at it with more logic and rationality. But there is no guide book to the safari that I am on, no map to help me navigate the streets I’m walking. Plus, I am young! I think we all get so caught up in what is going on that we never remember to realize just how small amount of time we have been handling this. We were too young when it started and we are still too young to have any idea what to do, but we try and put effort into it. We learn as we go, the rules develop simultaneously with the game. The field in not level and definitely not well lit up, shadows and bumps are everywhere. He hurt me, in a really big kind of way. The kind of way that makes you not realize that you haven’t left your bed in four days or that you left the house in pajamas and without shoes. The stupid big way that makes your eyes glaze over and not see the people or cars in front of you. That was a long time ago. Apparently I hurt him, which is news to me. Also, I meant something to him; brand new news that is also shocking and unbelievable. I never would have guessed that. The jury is still out on whom broke his heart and sent him into the stages, but that is also old. What matters now is that, at the end of everyday I still care about him and his well being. Does anyone around him really care if he offs himself or if he continues down his horrible, self-destructing path of bad decisions and mental blockings?
-he is considering shooting electricity through his body in order to “solve his problem”: do I need to say anything more?
-he takes pictures of his anatomy and then gives them out to people as if it was a business card: lack of self-respect, confidence, morality, dignity
-he is going to Mexico, plans of visiting nude beaches: just an all around bad idea because no good will come of it
-is an alcoholic: he even admitted to it [cont’d in next dash]
-his parents, father for sure, have/had drinking problems: has he come to terms with that, no one knows
-is turning 21, can now legally get shit faced: drunk in bars, leads to drunk in cars, leads to death or being behind bars. Not to mention his judgment on who he goes home with will be impaired and that is extremely dangerous. He’s going to get killed or hurt or catch something unimaginable.
-his memory doesn’t work properly: whether by choice of him or by choice of his brain, it needs to be talked about and worked on
-he has a deadly obsession/unhealthy sexual relationship with “jawline man”: this is bad on all sorts of levels, distraction, drama, maliciousness. It’s got it all
-is willing to do way too much with complete strangers and doesn’t see the danger in that: I think this one also speaks for itself
-he lies, deceives, gossips, starts rumors, creates messes, begins drama, is two faced: it’s all a defense mechanism.


"Looking in the mirror staring back at me isn't so much a face as the expression of a predicament." -George Falconer

Dive In

So, I haven't put up anything in a while. I try to do at least one a week, but a lot has happened. I wrote about four columns in my head, but never had a chance to put them down. I kept the whole concept of "diving in" and leaping without looking, not being afraid to just jump in, to not test the water but just dive in and experience it. I had this concept in my head a lot these past several days. Diving into financial uncertainty by quitting my job. Diving into dumpsters to get tons of free food. Diving into the lake and swimming out until I was exhausted. Diving into a road trip to my parents place. Diving into a future where I'm not so obsessed with money. Diving into uncertainty. And now, after these last few hours, I have no water to dive into anymore. The water to the house I rent has been turned off. Apparently a pipe has cracked, and from what I have gathered, it won't be an easy fix. And this happens during the time of summer where you wake up covered in a film of sweat, and that's before you even move or attempt to leave the bed. The phrase "bad timing" does not begin to capture the moment. It's one thing to be sweating constantly, it's completely different to know there is no cold shower waiting for you. Not even a chance to stick your head under the faucet. All signs point to diving into balmy unpleasantness. I'd much prefer diving into cool wonderfulness. I had such vitality after I quit my job, such energy and hope. I thought I would feel more free, less chained. Less restricted. Not so captured. But it's not really happening. I still worry about paying bills, staying out of debt and keeping it all held together. Between the extended weekend and my parents house, the heatwave, the broken pipe I haven't got any solid leads on a new job yet. It hasn't hit "danger zone" area just yet, but everyday is a day without money coming in. Since I don't have to leave the house really, I was intent on getting back into my work out groove. It had been thrown off due to the holiday and post quitting food binges. And now that I can't shower afterward, not to mention it being balls hot all friggin day long, I have no way to work out. I can't get in full fledged work out mode, and then not be able to shower. That is a sweaty mess no one needs to lay eyes on. So all my gusto for diving into a new direction of my life has kind of been defeated. That tide has gone out. Now the waves of anxiousness and uncertainty are hitting me again, threatening to pull me under. Once again, I'm just trying to keep my head above the water. On a side note, the other day when I was in the lake, it was the most free I'd felt in ages. Being out there in such a huge, encompassing body of water, treading water as the waves lapped over me. Staring out and not seeing an end, feeling vulnerable and powerful all at once. Taking in the force around me, but being weary of it at the same time. It was wonderful....

You see, the funny thing about diving, is it's a lot like falling. But diving is supposed to be more graceful, more intentional, have more meaning and poetic significance. But it can still just be painful flop. A giant splat. The only difference between a splat and a splash is two letters. That is a very small amount of room to error.


"...diving is itself a hazardous sport. To do it without any training is tantamount to playing Russian roulette with a loaded revolver..." -Robert F. Burgess