Spite Smiling

When I was twelve years old, my grandmother told me what she knew about the afterlife. According to an irritatingly devout Catholic, I will be shown to the pearly white gates with an empty blank scroll of paper and a pen. Neither the brand of the paper nor the pen is known, as she made clear, but both will be present on a table by the gate. There will be a man by the gate asking, "So how was life?" which, when spoken, will sound similar to the common greeting, "So how's life?" If presented with this situation today, I would respond as if it were a ten day trip to a European country, strictly for comedic value since I have nothing else to offer up to this point.

"It's a pretty nice place. I was sick through part of it, but the food was good and the people were nice!"

Anyway, when I was twelve years old I already knew that I fucked myself out of an afterlife. My decision to consistently steal money from my parents' change jar to buy baseball cards and slush puppies nullified my decision to help my overweight health teacher off the ground after a lengthy tumble down a flight of stairs. I didn't even laugh, but it didn't matter. I was certain of it.

Day after day, I would keep a dollar from my lunch money and run it through the school vending machine in order to acquire change. I'd dump a hand full of assorted change back into the jar at the end of the week. I tried to keep the ratio of pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters consistent with how I had originally found it. There was no actual formula to follow, but I knew that there were hardly any quarters, a ton of nickels and dimes, and a fair amount of pennies.

Later.

PS.
To whomever this may concern,
My recent release of repressed feelings,
Largely due to a 9 day sober streak,
(Hi-five),
Has vented out of my mouth and out of my fingers and into the ears and eyes of those willing to give blunt and honest advice.
Thank you infinitely for that.
Women, high blood pressure (likely a direct correlation), money wars, flat tires, Fat Tire, lies, bugs, Boston, existenialism, caffeine,
In no specific order,
Actually maybe,
Have worn me down.
Thanks for caring.

Gonna be hecka bummed out for a while.

Phil

Today, a higher force was clearly working it's magic. I can honestly say that I had heard a handful of Phil Collins songs in malls, fabric stores and in a car driving by. The ones that are really fucking catchy and stay with you for weeks on end like Against All Odds and You Can't Hurry Love. For a second, I thought he may have died since the last time I recall his happening was after Michael Jackson's death.

I was humming it at the urinal of a Thai restaurant. I was whistling it walking down Powell St. I was subtly singing it to myself at the book store. It was an eerie day. The type of day that you propose to a girlfriend or commit suicide or subscribe to a magazine you know you'll never read.

There are days when I'd like nothing else but to disappear to some place I've never been for an indefinite amount of time in order to gather a better understanding of the decisions I'm making. Today is definitely one of those days.

My friend from home said that looking at every possible situation in a transient light is depressingly practical.

I wish it were colder.

Weekend (v.v.v.0)

I feel like I'm traveling through memories and revisiting points in my life that have already happened.

I have traveled up and down route 1 over 14 times since I've been home.

So much has changed since leaving here and it's fun to hear about and spend time with people that were once a giant part of me.

I love my friends and family.

If you owe me ten dollars, you ain't givin' me nine.