right.

so. starbucks can fuck themselves.

(my employment with the '11th best company to work for in america' was terminated today. i am going to spend one day being angry, and get a new, better job tomorrow.)

cochese told me once, or actually thirty or forty times, in the car to new york, and once at the bar on new years eve, that "these things happen, because these things must occur." stefanie helped me realize today that everything happens for a reason, even if we never understand it. i have decided that this will ultimately be a blessing.

are you there, God? it's me, michael. remember Job? i am forged steel compared to him. bring it.


i fight to win--FOR ME!

(anyone in the charlottesville area wishing to help can do one or more of the following:
1. bring me a pint of ben & jerry's--mint chocolate cookie, preferably.
2. come watch a movie with me.
3. "sing me something soft, sad and delicate, or loud and out of key; sing me anything.")

i swear to tell the whole truth.

summary of day.

--slept in, because of odd combination of amazing dreams and terrible nightmares. i had the day off from work, my bed was warm, the light passing through the strips of plastic blinds was pleasing. this doesn't happen every day. (dreams--falling in love, breaking and entering, something having to do with the library of congress; nightmares--iraq, finding someone's body in the bathtub.)

--starbucks. was originally supposed to go meet kim, then lolo. instead, sit down with kim, lolo, gavin, AND nancy jane. saw sarah briefly, reminded of how casually beautiful i think she is. helped helen carry a six-foot sub. talked about how all of the new baristas are bitchy.

--design. spent a good chunk of time working on lauren's website--the first parts are done, for now. the new plan is to do a few more sites for friends, then to start a small free-lance webdesign business. i never ever thought that i would be replacing my time drinking with css and xhtml, but whatever. it happens.

--rusty. rusty and i used to have these long conversations about our conflicting understandings of the universe. now, we mostly just play computer games together. do i mind? not really. everything is the same, because everything is connected.

--starbucks. so, apparently, it is snowing. additionally, it is almost 4am. finally, i have to be at work at 545. i am already guessing that my purple car of death, destruction, and spite, minerva, will not be up for a snowy drive. so... in 45 minutes, i am going to walk the 1.3 miles to work, in the snow, uphill both ways, and if i find any birch trees on the way you can bet your life that i'll be swinging on them.

--ozeki. so excited that i will get to see three of my favorite women of all time in one night--ruth l. ozeki, author of some of my favorite novels about the evils of beef and genetically modified potatoes; allison, the girl that taught me that nice jeans are worth saving for; and mara, the professor that continues to be my advisor long after i have graduated. will anyone else be there?

--poetry. i've started a new poem about my orange armchair. it will end up being about someone else, probably a girl. also, i am going to completely rewrite my poem about linguistics, making it more about me and less about CK, mostly because i don't actually know her story.

WE HAD LIVED!

howitzer.

so, i spent most of the evening working on lolo's website,lauren cousar -- murals, faux finishing, commissioned paintings. only one of the image galleries is up, but i am happy with the clean lines, the way that the images fall in line with each other, etc. there are things that i am going to go back and fix later, but for now, i feel an overwhelming sigh of accomplishment. i wasn't sure if i could do it, but i could, and i did. next time, i need to get paid for this.

"look at this picture--it looks like God is behind you." -- LMC

I don't know where today went. I drank three cups of coffee, less than I usually drink, so I think that maybe time shifted around me, as though lack of caffeination caused the atoms of my body to vibrate at a slower speed, and so, the universe carried me differently today. that, and i didn't really do anything.

i shall now insert a comment that doesn't really fit in here, but it's important. i don't know what i would do without sloane. it's like she knows when i am absolutely loneliest, and finds me and talks to me. she's like the busiest person in the world, and i never ever feel like she doesn't have time for me. so, thanks, skip.

lauren and rusty and i are watching 'monsoon wedding;' lauren just asked us if we had ever read an issue of cosmo. umm, excuse me? like she even has to ask. we're going to get a copy so rusty can see it--i want him to take the quiz.

the most intense personal interaction i had all day was with mike, the bum that sits in front of the lucky seven. i help him out with change and cigarettes and hot chocolates, when i can. anyway, he shared with me his theories about women. i can't type some of those words here, but if you are interested, buy a pack of cigarettes, a forty, and go find mike.

i called allison, and we talked about ruth ozeki and diesel jeans. i randomly started crying while talking to her. i miss her.

i had the best dream ever today. it was a memory.

this list, possibly...

is way representative of my life.

McSweeney's Internet Tendency: Ten Things the Guy at Starbucks Is Thinking While Looking at the Brunette Barista Behind the Counter.

first with your hands

i'm sitting at the window table at starbucks, and realizing that i hate the way that people drive. every time someone pulls into the 15 minute parking lane from the wrong side of the road, i just want to go out there and kick their car, as if to discipline them. i have to stop letting little things bother me.

last night, for the first time ever, i started to think that maybe being a student of discourse analysis left me at a disadvantage, in general, real-life skills. everyone naturally reads into what is said, but i spend so much time obsessing over what isn't said, putting herculean weights on the the pauses between sentences, the seconds between 'instant' messages, the spacing of time between text messages. this is no way to live. brynn used to live 90% in her own head--i am living 91% in the picas and pixels between the dots of ellipses.

i've spent the last few hours trying to teach myself how to do one simple thing for lauren's website, and i just can't get it to work. am i too old to learn how to do something new? in 14 months, statistically, my cells will start dying faster than new cells are made. i think that my nervous system, like the rest of me, is chronically early. ideally, i would make some word-play between chronologically and chronically, but it just isn't going to happen this morning.

jessie sat with me during a break, and we both talked about how we don't generally make eye contact, for fear that our eyes will start tearing. i think that this says a lot about the type of people we are--afraid of how others will think we feel--or don't--based on the way we look.

i am afraid that i am becoming emotionally dead. i can't look people in the eye anymore. this has happened before, in a diner in new jersey. i am trying to remember how i broke it last time. i think it involves reading anna karenina.

And I stood nervous next to you in the dark room, you dropped the paper in the water and it all begins to bloom.

so. today was just another day, perhaps an interstitial day, one to separate interesting things from other interesting things. i spent most of the morning thinking about my perception of the universe, thanks to a movie, and then working on website stuff. avid readers should begin to look for a change on this site; as of tomorrow, there will be an auditory component to this site. basically, i set something up where i can make phone calls into my blog, and a link with an audio file shows up. i would have done this at work, but i forgot.

there were no full cycles in my day today--i went to work so late that really, i only caught the end of a shift, not a whole shift. i had an IM conversation that started, then stopped, without finishing--jilted at the IM altar, if you will. today just happened, and that was that.

this post sounds hopeless, but it's not. i just remain confused, skinny, and unloved. i am just waiting to sit down and have an amazing conversation with someone, something somehow life-changing. the begining of the year was full of life-changing moments--career-wise, sobriety-wise, possible-but-now-elusive-romance-wise. i just yearn for those days, i guess.

i wrote 'yearn.' this entry is over.

all strung out in song

dear diary,

not much to report today. i worked, i slept, i went to the lucky seven. i don't think that i had anything resembling a meaningful exchange of dialogue with anyone today, aside from the usual what-does-it-all mean talks with rusty and lauren, and a quick/intense lecture/discussion with mara. i blame the snow.

the snow, you ask?

yes, the snow.

did you see the snow tonight? it was beautiful--slow-moving large flakes, like tiny clouds descending slowly. this is the type of snow that they have in Bedford Falls, in glass snow globes, and in memories. i watched the snow approach me, lit by the phosphorescence of a street light. this is the type of snow that you should kiss someone in.

anyway, the weekend approaches--coffee with mara saturday, i hope, coffee with dr. kim later saturday. i want to finish lauren's website (i fear that i am using too much pink), and then find some new way to occupy my time. i want to sit in a bookstore and teach myself more website stuff, to have all of the tools ready for the long-time back burner plan of web design, should my life in coffee not work out, and, because it is something to do that doesn't involve me going to a bar.

going to watch i (heart) huckabees and then bed--you should have been there in the snow, so i could have kissed you.

goodnight, bedford falls
michael

someone please call the surgeon

quick post, then bed.

today started with insomnia and desert nightmares, and gradually evolved into an amazing day. it wasn't stereotypically good. as such, it was the best kind of good.

as terrible as work was tonight, it was also strangely fun. spending the last half hour with The Magnetic Fields up to eight was certainly one way to handle being behind schedule. gavin and audrey are two interesting kids, you know. also, i hope stacy is okay.

lolo is rapidly becoming my other-half. she woke me up today to help her do her taxes. we are going to be building her website together thursday evening. i mean, she's just everywhere, lately. she came to lunch with me and j today, and we talked about names, privacy, love, and power. any outdoor supply store or art supply shop should hire her immediately.

rae called me to find out why she isn't girlfriend material. after i got off the phone, gavin asked me what that was about. i said, very calmly, 'i believe there is a metaphor having to do with getting milk for free.' so, marcus, sweetie, if you're reading this, grow some fucking balls and demand that this boy get his act together (i.e. break up with his 'other' girlfriend).

i love coming home to windswept fields, because there is always something happening that is unusual, slightly. tonight, rusty and lolo were salsa dancing in the dining room. rusty saw taylor and joe jumping rope when he came home. there is no signifier in this house.

on a cigarette break tonight, a little old irish man told me that i should continue smoking as long as i want to, and asked me if i read Foucault, and told me that smoking is the last act of revolution we have left. he also said it is a great friend to thinking. i have named this little old irish man Padriac, like my little old irish powerbook.

so, i sent two texts tonight requesting that someone come visit me at work. both times, she did; it may have had nothing to do with the texts, or with me, but just the chance that she was there because she knows just how happy it makes me to be near her is thrilling.

finally, i am getting old, i think. in addition to the slight recession of my hairline, i had a strange epiphany today. i saw a beautiful woman holding a beautiful child, and i had a glimpse, a blink--nothing more, really, just a flash then gone, barely even visual, just an outline, a shadow of a second--of how i'd like my future to look and feel and taste and smell.

stop typing, michael. sweet dreams.

my neighbor's boyfriend's crying woke me up.

i've started this entry and erased it four times now. it's 4am. i should be asleep. anyway, this was going to be the heart of my entry, anyway, so here it is.

REPUBLICAN?


sigh.

has michael, you know, the liberal-as-fuck, unofficial-minor-in-women's-studies, keeping-abortion-safe-legal-and-accessible, gratefully-tax-paying, my-child-will-not-go-to-a-house-with-a-gun-in-it, the-government-should-pay-for-all-of-our-doctors-and-give-condoms-out-in-nursery-schools, not-getting-married-until-same-sex-couples-can-legally-marry-in-every-state-of-the-union, the 'voting-republican-is-a-weapon-of-mass-destruction' believer, trying-to-unionize-baristas, yes, that michael... has michael fallen for a republican?




the part of this that scares me the most... i asked myself, earlier, "does this even matter?" let's get analytical.
1. we're not dating, and probably never will be, and the contents of this journal and others is the emotional vomit of an optimistically helpless romantic.
2. really, there is no difference between centrist republicans and democrats--they all have it wrong. (brewmerica, 2008!)
3. i reiterate point number one. there is no chance, as far as i can tell. i am obsessing over minutiae and marginalia.
4. my concept of romance is a (personal) weapon of mass destruction.

free mojtaba and arash

shocking!!!

the poem i planned on starting today didn't happen--you can't force these things. i need a topic, and i am open to suggestions.

i hope it is just because i am tired, but i really don't have anything interesting to talk about tonight, so i am just going to stop... soon.

my hands smell like gasoline. i like that, kind of... i think that is how a man's hands should smell--like gasoline--from time to time. ultimately, though, if a man's hands smell like gasoline, the friend's car that he was trying to get to start should start.

lauren tells me that simply because i continually refer to her and rusty as boyfriend and girlfriend, they now refer to each other in these terms. language is creation, i always say--in the begining was the Word, right? so, anyway, if i start referring to someone else as my girlfriend, might it be so? that's going on the backburner for now. the way back-burner.

i like having amazing revelations (note the lower-case R) on the second floor of starbucks. this is my revelation of tonight:

I never want to have closure with/from you. (i can be patient, but i can't be anything but honest when it comes to you.)

*N.B. i was listening to Ani Difranco today, while cleaning my room, and the lyrics in Dilate really got to me--
every song has a you
a you that the singer sings to
and you're it this time
baby, you're it this time.

i think i've been doing a lot of that, lately. sorry? i don't know. i am supposed to stop apologizing. sorry.

and finally... cross-posted from my secret journal...
desired trait in significant other: though i am a pro-feminist male, and would preferably like to spend my life with another feminist, she must understand, appreciate, and possibly even laugh at my insistence of asking her parents about the state of her dowry upon formally being introduced to them for the first time.

additionally...
happy birthday, brian. even though you are republican, you're still a decent big brother.

shoop?

so, i spent the remainder of my day cleaning my room, and perhaps my mind. i reclaimed my desk--now featuring TWO laptops--and feel that this is a place where perhaps i will be able to write. I organized my bookshelf in the study and gave lolo some books to read; she left the house without taking them. i did three loads of laundry, and for the first time ever, in my entire life, i folded the clothes immediately after taking them out of the dryer. it wasn't so bad--i could make that a habit.
rusty and lauren and i had dinner together, after brynn nash-holed on me. rusty cooked oysters that lauren and i were afraid to eat. lauren told us stories of things that happened to her in the grocery store. i was generally cynical and charming, as usual. other funny things happened, but i don't remember them. we talked about whether or not you can meet people if you move to new york alone. my vote is yes.
when cleaning my room, i found BURIED TREASURE! i found the oddest birthday present i have ever recieved--a photograph given to me by my initial starbucks crush--of herself, mind you--that accompanied the nicotine inhalers i used the day i met majkin. i found a street address and a time of night written on starbucks thermal register tape, in blue bright stick, of when and where i was supposed to pick someone up for a date. i found the map of the united states lolo and monster made for our roadtrip, along with their plans to persuade me to not shower every day. thanks, guys--love you, too. i found russian nesting dolls and hand-bound haruki murakami volumes, about seven dollars in change, and four hundred dollars in camel cash. like ice cube, i have to say it was a good day.
i should be asleep! there are so many things i want to do tomorrow! i have more clothes to fold!

tomorrow, i start a new poem, and i don't even know yet what it will be about, just that i am going to write one.

please, fall for me.

so. i didn't make it to church today; physically, that is. i went to my 10am meeting, the one with all of the young people, that's kind of cruisy. i saw that kid there, the one i was talking about on friday. he sat next to me, and afterwards, we sat in the parking lot and we smoked cigarettes, and he talked about his parents, and i talked about me. he says he still doesn't know if he's an alcoholic, but he thinks he is ready to not drink for a while. while i had been planning on going to church, i keep seeing that my plans are malleable, that my plans are not the same as the plan.

rusty's home--we are going to bond now.

mad lyrical

so, i couldn't sleep all night. at first i was upset about this, but then, at 4:39am, Arnold signed into IM, and we talked for 22 minutes about freestyling, the bradley he drives on weekends, writing to find the Truth, and the nightly domestic disturbances in the apartment below mine.

sometimes, i think that it isn't fair that someone who knows me so well is living in the fucking desert; what i should really be thinking is that i am so glad that there is someone that knows me as well as Arnold. he can read between the lines of my emails, and under all the camo and thug exterior, he's just as much a romantic as me.

he's out there, on police duty in baghdad--that's right, Arnold is a fucking cop--and he's thinking about how he's heard that i met a girl, reminding me to go to church and to AA meetings, to write poetry... that's a beautiful thing.

i want to tell him that i pray for his happiness and safety every day, but i think he knows, and i think he's praying for me, too. i can't wait for him to come home, so we can sit in some small apartment and write poetry together.

screeching crash/crutch & cast

this is a visual summary of my life, apparently, and also, a visual representation of what i've done since i wrote that last entry.


EDIT: apparently, life is pretty blurry. additionally, michael is pretty tired, so give me a fucking break. i love this idea, but i am not paying thirty dollars to anyone, ever. i have to start saving for important stuff, like a new pair of diesel jeans.

one day you'll realize you've memorized my phone number, and you'll call and find it's a disconnected line.

i had something of a bad day at work, but i am not going to discuss that here at all. i am tired of my job, even though there are parts of it that i love. basically, there is something about coffee and making it that i love--the separation of espresso through water into the perfect americano, the way i can run my fingers through ground coffee and know if it is too coarse or fine, the reverberations that run through to your shoulder when you tap the portafilter into the knock box. these things are beautiful. things that are not beautiful include... management.

arnold sent me an email today, talking about wanting to move to NY with me to write music together, and then about being shot at. i want him to come home from iraq so badly--i am so upset that there is now something about him that makes him talk about being shot at by sniper fire in a nonchalant tone. i think that there is something dangerous about anyone who can speak about such grave matters like love and shooting in casual tones. obviously, he is being shot at a lot, and this is not what i want to hear.

sarah called me and left me a hilarious voicemail, apologizing for not coming to see me at work yesterday like she PROMISED. i have decided to forgive her--this once. i called her back, and she was sitting in traffic on 66, and we talked for a miinute or two, i guess, about phone calls from exes that should be exiled, ideally, and the ettiquette of leaving your phone number for someone. there are some numbers that i realize now i will never forget--i still know my first best friend's phone number by heart, and can dial it in .3 seconds. i remember nora's phone number, and how polite i would always be to her mother. i remember katherine's cell phone number, mostly because i gave her so much shit for having a cell phone (this was years ago, when this was not a necessity for basic living), and secondly because i didn't have a car, and i kind of depended on her for mobility. oh, and because i loved her. i know rusty and lauren's numbers, but mostly because they are so close to mine, that it would be hard not to remember. and strangely enough, i know sarah's number by heart, even though i only physically dialed those numbers once before my cell memorized it, and i don't even call her that often. i guess i do look at it every time i text her, which is a lot. that explains it. anyway, i had a point. i sent her a text that i think may be the best text message i have ever sent anyone in the history of my life as a text-ing person.

"i wish i was stuck in traffic with you."

being stuck in traffic with someone that you can talk to for hours is amazing. just recently, cochese and i got to know everything about each other on the new jersey turnpike--until i abandoned conversation for texting; he understood, though--it was a girl. i have vivid memories of being stuck in traffic on the way to savannah with allison, and being next to a man that we named moses, and i took pictures of his car, i think... i should look for them. this guy had every biblical bumper sticker ever on his car, and he was wearing a wife-beater. i am sure that there are more, swimming just below memory right now.

i have the house to myself tonight, so i think i am going to take advantage of it--i am going to put TV on the Radio in the stereo (can you believe this? my new favorite song is a cappella!) and slow dance with joey, until he gets tired, and then see where the night takes me after that. i'll wake up and go to church, and perhaps make myself a picnic lunch, if the weather is nice, and write something--ANYTHING, really, just as long as i am writing--and then have a communist movie date with akash and brynn, website building time with lolo, and just decompress!

i will be your accident if you will be my ambulance

today was so long, it almost feels like four days. also, i have the Windswept Fields Flu.

staying up all night and writing on my new powerbook in starbucks this morning was so nice. it's like having a new, fresh notebook and a new pen, but still having all of your ideas intact. i think i made some decent progress on my linguistics poem--i am worried that it is turning into a vocabulary poem, of sorts, but i think i have a new direction for it to go in.

my meeting this morning was difficult--a lot of it was directed at this kid, who must have been like 17, and he didn't know if he was an alcoholic or not, and i just wanted to shake him and tell him to give it a chance. i don't know--i wish sometimes that i never drank, ever, and then i would be so different, but that probably isn't so true. this is not the night for playing what-if.

the middle of my day was strange--still processing, nothing to say about it yet. we'll see what develops, or doesn't.

work was abyssmal. scott called out and no one could cover. derick ended up helping, and i love him for it. i can't believe that i never gave him a chance before--we talked about napoleon dynamite and the wild turkeys in his yard. stacy came back to help close, and me and her and jennifer worked like a silent machine--we didn't say anything to each other. we were mechanized, and marvin gaye was playing. promises weren't kept, but i channelled disappointment into cleaning.

i did have a few interesting encounters at work, tonight, which make me ask some tough questions. i remember this one episode of sex and the city, where carrie was writing her article on her powerbook, and the question that started everything was simple--when will waiting for the one be done? anyway, my question is this: is there anyone worth waiting for? i mean, i am not accustomed to people flirting with me at work for anything more than a free drink, but tonight, it was like girls were interested in me and the things i said. it kind of calls the questions i have in my head into question. i am so fucking confused today, and coming down with the Windswept Fields Flu is not helping.

i've always believed that the way to find out who loves you is to see who takes care of you when you are sick. well, tonight, rusty and i are loving ourselves. and maybe that's okay. skinny, flu-ish, and unloved. why do adjectives always come in threes?

brief...

1. i have a new powerbook! i am transferring files to it as we speak! it is the prettiest damn computer ever! thanks, J!
2. i love being reminded that there are people who meet the characteristics that i set forth in my moleskine lists of ideal significant others.
3. i will be writing more, once i am sure that i didn't erase my ipod.


CONTINUED! 5:18 AM.

4. okay, so, i have named my new PowerBook Padriac. I was saving this name for my first son, but, ehh, you know. it is so snappy, and snazzy, and fucking gorgeous.
5. i have to give credit to sloane for the highlight of my day--calling me at work, and providing me with the modern-day equivalent of 'guess-who-i-saw-in-study-hall.' i could see geoff and matt's eyes staring through me when i whispered into the phone "well, did she say anything about me?" seriously--who does this?
6. this entry is a placeholder, really, for the type of thing i normally write--so, if you're reading this, i'm sorry.

<3,
MPL

REVISION!

whenever i finish a revision draft of a poem, i want to dance around my house with my arms up above my head, yelling 'REVISION!' then, i remember that a) i have sleeping roommates; b) that they have to be up in three hours; and c) they don't like Fiddler on the Roof as much as i do.

Metaphor: Fuses

you probably think this entry is about you

and at some point, it probably will be.

i was name-dropped in sloane's journal today; she was referencing my fear that i am overrelying on cigarettes and coffee to fill the hole that alcohol left. here's what i have to say about that. of course, i love being referenced in her journal--she's like one of my favorite people ever, and she does things that are important, and i am generally crazy about her. two, about that hole. i don't know if the hole is the absense of alcohol, or really, that my decision to stop drinking has pointed a spotlight at the hole that was already there, that alcohol was patching together. i mean, yeah, i am smoking too many cigarettes, and even though i've cut my coffee intake from 10 shots a day to 3, i am definitely relying on it much more than i used to. so, regarding this hole... i don't know what it is, how it got there, or what's in it now. i do know that it is being fixed.

i slept strangely last night, woke up at 5, passed back out, and slept through my meeting. kind of upset about that, but i'll go tomorrow, and i'll go friday. i've been kind of complusion free, lately--after the temptations of last week, i feel a lot stronger, and i see that while i generally had fun when i drank, i am finding beauty and synchronicity and jouissance when i don't. i saw pork-chop at starbucks last night, and was relieved that he didn't say anything about the night that i broke in to the store after close to make out with someone in front of jane, and then i was really impressed with something he said; he had come to town a few weeks ago, and called audrey at the store to get my number so we could go out and get a few drinks, and audrey told him that i had stopped drinking. anyway, this huge burly guy--named pork-chop, mind you--told me that he was so proud of me, and that i was one of the strongest people he knew. i told him that he didn't know what he was talking about, and he looked me right in the eye and told me just how much he respected me. this is another person to put on my list of people that i am grateful beyond words to have met because of my job at starbucks.

a special friend arrived in the mail today. ladies and gentlemen, i would like to introduce you to my goat; this is joey, my amazing technicolor dream goat.



joey came all the way from jersey, where has has been living with his aunt jackie to stay with me for a while. i brought him to work with me this afternoon, to tell him about how goats in ethiopia discovered coffee. i am going to make him his own apron, i think. anyway, you'll be seeing me and joey walking the streets of charlottesville together, so please come introduce yourself. oh, and jackie? all my love--all of it. thanks for taking care of him for me.

(and this is the part that's about you, by the way)
so, at work we just got these new joni mitchell CDs. I LOVE JONI MITCHELL. i think that i can trace the exact joni mitchell lyrics that got me, all those years ago.

I remember that time that you told me, you said
Love is touching souls
Surely you touched mine
Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time.

so, yeah. every entry is about you, a little bit, because part of you is in each word i write, more often that not.

i will now devote the next three hours to laundry and poetry revisions.

and slowly growing old together.

i had a day today that was defined by good ol' lauren, as i was with her for almost every second of it. she woke me up this morning, after i walked to the door asleep to let the plumber in, and we talked, again, about love and art and html. we met again in starbucks, and dominated the handicapped table for hours. i let her wear my Honorary Heeb t-shirt (sorry Rae--i know that being an honorary jew was a very special gift to me, but the girl needed a t-shirt). we drew sketches of things in my squared moleskine. we talked to kim about online dating.

we talked about how coincidences don't exist, but are instead tiny destinies. i like that idea--tiny destinies. i mean, it just so happens that every other time i am standing outside of starbucks, i see a certain someone drive by. that has to mean something--there was a reason for me to be standing out there, right? do i simply go through life without any overriding force guiding my haphazard interactions? no--i do not. coincidences don't exist. tiny destinies.

i had an americano, and made a list of memorable interactions that i have with florists, and the type of flowers i buy, resulting from those interractions. someday, when i have a column in a newspaper, i will write about this type of stuff.



i had an amazing night at windswept fields. the four of us (sans lauren and uncle pico) talked about language and synesthesia and quitting jobs. joe is intensely quotable, taylor is intensely resilient, and rusty is intensely obsessed with cooking kielbasa sausage. this is an amazing place to live.

my little sister flies to Italy tomorrow, to sing for the Pope. i called her tonight, told her about the outcome of my V-Day actions, and told her that i'd be thinking about her constantly. we talked about how mr nappi used to ask for the intercession to st. joseph of cupertino, who was a franciscan mystic, a man with faith so strong that he was capable of flight. i also warned her to watch out for gypsies, and to take as many pictures as possible.

i almost bounced two checks today, but was saved at the last minute by J. it's good to have friends around at your moment(s) of need. i finished a draft of a poem that sloane described as 'postmodern high school.' this obviously means that i have to go through drastic re-writes. next time i am at lowes, i need to ask someone there, wearing a vest, to teach me about electricity.

finally, i put a letter in the mailbox today--this isn't something i am lucky enough to do that often. i don't know why i didn't just email it, or drop it by her house. i guess i just wanted what i said to be stamped by an official hand, to be delivered; formal, i guess. it didn't even say anything that important; in fact, those with a keen eye can see a draft of it hidden on one of my other websites. ha. i should forget about this being a journal, and just have clues for all of the sleuths that read it.

desired trait in a significant other: must be an explorer of books, continents, hearts, and attics.

Someone please call Bill Kemp.

i just knowingly used passive voice in a poem. i am mailing back my degree.

take it easy (love nothing)

while sitting on the floor of the second story of starbucks this afternoon, while neither of us drank coffee and we looked over our artwork, lauren and i talked about love, and possible reasons why our love is not reciprocated, at least in terms that we could understand and take apart, put back together, and celebrate. i mean, here's the thing about me and lauren--we are the two best people in the entire world, in terms of who much love we are capable of, how full our hearts are with jouissance, and how much art we have create still. to all of those who should love lolo or myself, and especially to those that do love us but don't do anything about it, you are missing out. lauren is one of my closest friends--she kills anyone that doesn't love me.

i am realizing now that rusty is actually leaving in a few months. my neighbor, my constant, my roommate, my brother, my level ten sorcerer elf. i am torn, actually, between wanting to just go with him as his shadow, to watch the great things he'll do, and to lock him up and keep him here, because there are people here that need him. i need him. i don't want him to go. i don't want joe and taylor to leave, too. don't they know that i am just getting started here, that i am just starting to build my life? that i've decided that they are part of it, and that their attendance is mandatory? everything seems to be fading away, slowly.

on the floor of starbucks today, lauren grabbed my hand, and we realized that next year, it'll only be us, and we'll have to live together, because otherwise we'll be done for. i mean, that will actually be phenomenal, but it is scary, in that our makeshift family is continually leaving us.

i took a nap this evening, and had a dream that i was being hugged by everyone that has ever loved me, by everyone i have ever loved, all at once, and the warmth was almost too much, but still we hugged, and through our bright smiles and eyes we lit the entire world.

final thought, then sleep. rusty pointed out an interesting anagram to me tonight; also, lauren talked about how she loves my imperfections in the valentine's day card she gave me. other people would view these as separate events, but i think it is the same. i mean, my chicken pox scar is possibly my favorite part of my body, a rash that was so fun to scratch, and left me with so much more.

regarding valentine's day.

so. it's valentine's day, and i feel loved.

some of you may know that i am a sucker for text messages, that for me, text goes straight to my heart. jackie sent me a text last night that said "I've been reading your journal. I am holding you so close to my heart right now." Now, I've gotten some good text messages in the past before--my favorite ever was previously about bubble baths--but i never thought that i'd find something that made me cry on the one square inch screen of my nokia. so, sweet potato, i hope you know that you're the best, even if you do live in new jersey.

smitty and i were talking last night about potentially going to a reading of erotic poetry tonight. she asked me if i was free. i told her that there was a 10% chance of someone falling in love with me, but otherwise, yes. this is her away message today:
"There's a 10% chance that someone will fall in love with you today. There's a 100% chance that others already do love you. Keep that in mind." I mean, if it weren't for the king of the hill buddy icon, that would be one of the kindest things ever directed at me.

this morning, while i was killing time at starbucks before doing tips, scott sang to me, telling me that i was his sunshine, and that i make him happy when skies are grey. oh, scott. you'll never know, dear...

finally, i just did something which was probably pointless, but made me happy. i brought sarah flowers, completely expecting her not to be there, so that i could passive-aggressively leave them with a roommmate. i mean, she's never home, what were the odds? so, anyway, she was there, and she killed one of the tulips instantly, and i don't think that the 10% chance of her falling in love with me occurred, and then there was a knock at the door--a florist delivery guy. he had flowers for her. he gave me the universal look of 'shit, man, is this your girl? who's sending her flowers? fuck, man, i'm just the delivery guy.' in response, i gave him the universal look of 'ha, fuck, man, not even close--the whole world, the earth itself, is in love with her; i was just too cheap to spring for delivery.' anyway, they were from her dad, so i don't feel like a total tool. also, i feel that i have successfully purchased flowers a few times in a row, now, proving that i am stronger than my allergies, that i have gotten over my issues with tangible signifiers of romance, and that i am in love, most likely, or will be soon--which is kind of nice.

ooh! one more thing. there was a package waiting at my door, containing a shirt that i am wearing right now. thanks to rae, i am an honorary heeb.

i've been waiting for this my entire life.

H.D. wrote in the flowering of the rod that she goes where she loves and is loved, in the snow. well, hilda, no matter what the weather is actually doing, i am in the snow.

happy v.d., everyone.

Think Globally, Act Globally.

My roommate, Rusty, is one of those people who thinks about the world, and then thinks of ways to make it better. Here is some information on his latest project.

Lately, I am continually amazed at the ways in which my friends do things that are greater than themselves; I need to follow their examples more. I don't know how I am so lucky to have these people as my new extended family.

baby tonight, i've got a question for you

i can't sleep, or i won't, or some combination of the two. i blame the many many shots of espresso i had today... seven? eight? i wasn't even working!

anyway, there are two things on my mind right now--well, two that are interesting enough to possibly write about.

firstly, Mamma H. ol' hell was suspended from work for a week for giving someone a free drink. i absolutely hate the management of my store. i mean, they could have said "that's not cool, pay for it yourself." i mean, they are always taking free drinks home to their spouses. i am so sick of this bullshit. so, here's my plan. UNIONIZING. that's right. i am going to pick a day next week, and get all of the baristas to call in sick. we're going to show them who actually runs that store. let's see how well they do when there are only three under-trained managers working by themselves all day.

secondly, i stayed up writing--and rewriting--a letter that i think i started in my head forty-three days ago. the whole time i was writing this--and yes, i did go through several drafts--i was listening to my favorite old 97's song, and wondering what the fuck i am doing. i mean, yes, i am making myself happy, or at least able to check off a box that means a great deal to me, and yes, i am hoping that these sentiments will at least be appreciated, if not returned, but fuck, man, what am i doing? do i really expect anything to change? am i only setting myself up for more disaster? i don't know if this is going to be my next bold move, or my next act of shooting myself in my own foot. still, i made a promise to myself--i'm ready.

i can't believe i forgot to mention this.

while driving on 14th street today, my iPod proved that it is the smartest person i know, and that it has a sick sense of humor and impeccable taste in women.

the walls do not fall.

in something of a surprise, i saw everyone's favorite siren, cynthia, today. she called me, told me she was in charlottesville, and that we'd be hanging out. she met me at starbucks, and of course, i was reading Trilogy when she saw me. we talked briefly about my obsession with optic imagery in the poem, and how the Mary that washes the feet of Christ with her tears is also Myrrha, who wept even after she become a tree, and how H.D. uses the myrrh, of that tree, to allow the final Mary figure to claim/embody the essence that allows for resurrection (of language). it is her hair, and not the alabastar jar, and Kaspar knows this. anyway, about optic imagery. cynthia remembered how i used to obsess with pointless theories about optics when we were in 416 together, and how i would take control of the class just to discuss things that seemed completely trivial to everyone else.

(also, we ate sushi.)



i guess i just always thought that there was something magical about light.

rusty and i have an ongoing discussion about the digital nature of the soul. (you must think that this is the most boring entry ever.) i resisted as long as i could, but i am starting to realize now that my life exists not on paper and flesh alone anymore, but increasingly in zeroes and ones. i wish this wasn't so, as convenient as it is, because i am desperate for something tactile and responsive.

my portrait was taken today, with real film, with a real camera, by a real person. oh, be still my heart. since this whole digital thing started--and i blame rusty--i have come to value the use of material things so much more, like they are treasures left behind from the past, and finite. i know that there is constantly film being made, but sometimes i'd like to think that there is only a small supply, and that it is rationed for images that are worth it, that matter. this isn't the case, but i'd prefer to think of it this way, so i am going to.

i went to see The Vagina Monologues tonight, and i realized something while i was there. a few months ago, i would not have gone somewhere like that, a public place, only to sit alone. it was refreshing to know that i am doing things that i think i am not comfortable with, and the show was amazing. i have not had so much fun yelling cunt in a crowd before--i don't think i've ever yelled cunt in a crowd before, actually.

i turned on my phone after the play, and waited the requisite thirty seconds for the magic text to appear. i had a secret hope of who it would be from, but i am pleasantly surprised that it was from someone better. you're close to my heart too, sweet potato.

one more thing...

This article initially frustrated me beyond belief, before making me realize that i am lucky enough to be friends with one of the most hardcore and awesome people i've ever met. she uses a lot of big words, most of the time, but what she said at some point three-quarters of the page down is simple and beautiful and true. and... she's rapidly becoming a skilled barista, under my supervision.

"when i looked up into your eyes, it didn't hurt at all."

be still my heart; this could be a brand new start--with you...

there are times when i think that the postal service sings just for me, and each new b-side is the soundtrack for each new chapter in my life. i could write about this forever, and provide an in depth textual analysis, cross-referenced with examples from my life, but that would be a) too much fun and b) the biggest waste of time ever.

i'm reading a book that gordon let me borrow, called Epic: The Story God is Telling, and the Role that is Yours to Play. i started on my lunch break tonight, and really didn't want to stop reading it. i mean, i could do without all of the pop-culture references, but once he started talking about Milton, i was totally jazzed. it is so interesting to look at things that i studied for 13 years, and now think of them as something that actually affects more than my GPA. anyway, it feels good to be a part of something. i've been doing a lot of thinking about Step Three today, and i need a little more time to think about it, but i think it is something that i am ready to do, something that i want to do, it's just that i really don't know how. i got a phone call from daniel, brittany's dad, this morning. this is what he said: "well, michael, i'm sitting outside, drinking an americano, and i am thinking about you, and wondering how you're doing." if that isn't the coolest way to call someone, i just don't know what is. i am just continually amazed by the people that i've met lately, both in AA and at clear river, and how there are so many people interested in hearing my story.

i have an anecdote to share from work the other night. a young woman came in who was allergic to both soy milk and dairy. she had her own pre-packaged rice milk, and asked if we would steam it for her. i explained that we probably shouldn't, but did. anyway, jen opens the milk, and pours it into a new pitcher, and there are flies floating in it. the exchange that follows is amazing.
Jen S. -- Ma'am, there are flies in your milk.
Random Customer -- Oh.
JS -- you want me to scoop them out?
RC -- yeah, okay.
JS -- You may want to check the rest of your supply for flies.
can you say favorite barista ever?

i am going to go to bed, after i read for a little, i think. i am really excited about tomorrow--not having to work, being able to go to church again, hearing some girls talk about their vaginas at 8. i love what my life has become. two months ago, the highlight would have just been two-dollar drafts. i have so much to live for right now.

things on the horizon--as someone who finds nothing better than checking things off of to-do lists, do i follow through with a monday-related item on my to-do list? what's the worst that could happen?

letters to the editor.

so.
i've gotten a few reactions to my late-friday night post, be it in coments or IMs or phone calls. i am trying to respond, but i really don't know how to. in order to try to organize my thoughts, here is a numbered list.

1. thank you for reading; though i am doing this mostly as a way to keep track of my own life and my thoughts and my concerns, there is a performative part of this, a chance for me to say things indirectly that i wish i was brave enough to say out loud. right now, i am having both amazingly wonderful moments, and moments that are less than stellar, and several that are in between. anyway, since this amazingly tolstoy-esque family i have accumulated stretches all the way from baltimore to boston to baghdad, and a few places further away still, i am so blessed that i have all of you within arms reach, even if it is just on some stupid website.

2. my new way of looking at things is starting to stretch backward. that is to say, it isn't just from here on out that i am starting to see purpose in my daily interactions, to see that maybe there is a plan for me, and things that i am meant to do at different times. i am starting to see how i have been doing this all along, and how my friends have been dropped into my life at different times to help me. i think that my process of finding myself fits in pretty well with something that i heard a poet say once about writing, that we are looking for minnows in a pond, and they are hiding behind rocks. we pull up one rock at a time, and see them, and then they run behind another rock. so, thank you to everyone who has nudged or moved or thrown a rock for me.

3. there are so many things that i want to say that i am just not ready to say, yet. i'm on a twelve step path, and i don't even really know what step i am up to yet--i am working on number three, and i think i am almost there. anyway, there are many many things that i want to say, but i want to do this right, so, please bear with me until i get to step nine. i know that i have hurt so many people, and maybe they don't realize or care, but it is eating at me. i need to do this right, though. if this isn't enough for right now, i am sorry, but i can't really make amends for the things that i have done until i have gotten to know myself better.

4. keep coming back. sometimes i feel like my entire life is an AA meeting. my favorite part of a meeting is the end, right after we all stand, take each others' hands, and say the serenity prayer. after that, in unison, we rock our hands up and down and say 'keep coming back, it works if you work it.' so, keep coming back.

(i promise that this will be the last post that is so dorky for a while. i just wanted to get this out, and it seemed like a good way to do it.)

wide awake.

last night, i went to bed earlier than i ever have on a friday night, and it was delightful. i just slept--there was no interruption, no waking up to answer the phone or move my car or anything. i had ten hours of undisturbed bliss. and then i magically woke up at 7, for reasons i still haven't discovered.
but it was okay, because stefanie was on IM, and we talked about a relatively new phenomena--she is proud of me, for being honest, and for trying to be good. sometimes, i am amazed that i have had friends who have stuck by me through all of what i've done, which is mostly just neglect, with occasional bouts of self-righteous bitching and criticism. she's going to be the hottest twenty three year old on the east coast any day now, and i will willingly relinquish my title to her.
on a whim, i asked her to go to NY with me tomorrow to see Christo's 'The Gates.' She has to work, but said she'd see if she could get out of it, for a one-day and back road trip. even if it doesn't end up working out, i am thrilled that i have friends that live the way that i do:
with every broken heart, we should become MORE ADVENTUROUS.

(going to clean my room, make some eggs, etc. will write more this afternoon.)

for the sake of momentum.

nothing interesting happened during the first half of my day, so i won't be writing about it, other than to say that i had a nice, pleasant day at work with derick and philip.

so. i went to maartens tonight, because i was lonely, and i didn't want to go to sarah's party--not that i didn't want to see her, but that i didn't want to slip at her house. i felt all day like i was going to slip, and instead of going to a meeting, i went to a bar, in some stupid 'let me prove how strong i am' thing. i talked to rob for a while, and had a coke, and cochese came in, and everything was great, and then the smell got me. i had to leave.

i went to sarah's, with the stupid back-burner goal of trying to kiss her, again, this week, without indication that she wanted me to. when i was walking to her house, i was convinced that this is the reason i was going there. you see, cochese said something to me once: these things happen, because these things must occur. i sometimes feel like i am in the places i am in for a purpose. we are all here to do what we're all here to do. i mean, i got arrested a few years ago to teach me how not to live, and it took me years to learn it. this is another part of the bad with the good grateful alcoholic thing. i have proof of this in my life--i mean, i feel God's love in my life for the first time ever, and all it took (note the sarcasm) was a slow descent into alcohol and waking up wanting to kill myself. please forget i just typed that last clause, and never mention it again, but i had to write it, because it's the truth. i don't feel that way anymore, and i am never going to, because I NEVER WANT TO DRINK AGAIN.

it turns out i didn't go to sarah's to kiss her. i went there to meet some people that i've met before (including at the st. maartens xmas party--weird), to find someone who needed to a ride to the airport at 445am, and to unequivocally demand that i drive him. i was there to explain to someone who knows that alcohol has an unhealthy role in his life the gratitude i have for the program. i was there to drive home two kids who shouldn't be out walking in the middle of the night.

this doesn't change the fact that i wish i had kissed sarah tonight, in the kitchen , or on the stairs, even if people were watching. i am writing like i am pretending that she doesn't read this, but i have this devotion to brutal honesty in all aspects of my life right now. anyway, daniel and gordon, last week, talked to me about how now that i have loosened the grip that alcohol had on me, i should accept God's plan for me, and let Him take the wheel. it's not easy, i know, and sometimes, i still don't honestly think that it's the right idea, but tonight, God put me where i needed to be. i didn't relapse tonight. i had my hands in my pockets all night, one hand on my one-day chip, and another on my 30 day chip. i know that i get brave after i have a few beers, but i think that tonight i was braver for not having one.

just the other night, i told sarah about the last conversation i had with Grandfather, when he asked me how my nightlife was, and how i smiled, and how i still smile now, because i remember this about him, and not the smell of his hospital room, or the tiny shadow of his former voice. i am grieving for what my new friend daniel is going through, but i am so grateful that i am doing something to help him hopefully have a moment like that, something he can carry with him. not a day goes by that i don't think about Grandfather, and the time he took me to friendly's after i failed my road test, or the time that he had me come over and help him fix his automatic garage door opener, or the time that i rode home from church with him, and he told me that he doesn't pay attention to pedestrians, because they'll get out of his way. he loved, and was loved.. the channel that leads to these memories, though, is that last one, and i am never going to be afraid of hospital rooms again, because they are worth it.

in conclusion, i went to kroger, bought a bag of mini krullers, and i am going to watch a movie and kill time for a few hours, and then get in a car with someone i don't know, and take him to where he needs to be. perhaps--and i can't believe that i am using that word voluntarily, now--tonight would have been better if i had just kissed her, but there was something perfect about tonight, as it was.

my name is michael, and i am an ever-increasingly grateful alcoholic.

and now you can go

I can't sleep.

I am reading a book, And Now You Can Go, by Vendela Vida. I've had this book for a long time, and I've only read it once. I let Allison borrow it for months and months and months. I never looked through it, though, after I got it back.

On page 161, the following text is bracketted off in gentle pencil lines:
The next person I love, I will love better. When I'm ready to love, when it's someone else, none of these people but someone else, I will love better. I will give everything back. They won't even know what hit them.

I am of the mindset that 1. believes that the things you find other people have written or underlined in books to be of great importance in understanding both the scribbler and yourself, and 2. wants to believe that there is some serendipitous, some synchronistic force that controls when we discover marked texts; really, though, it's just two marks in pencil, six short straight lines.

i work with the strangest people in the world.

about to go to bed.

jen called me 30 minutes ago, because she woke up and was worried that i had planned on going to grad school, but forgot to apply. she was really worried about this, and was very intent on checking up on me.

geoff IMed me and invited me to create my own nation state on some website. his is the serene republic of das pooper. umm, right.

i need a new job.

when you're done texting your non-girlfriend, can i take a ten? -- gavin.

i'm a little sleepy, so this may not be as elaborate as i'd like.

i now have 31 days of continuous sobriety. i was hugged by several people in recognition of this, and had a generally beautiful, depressant-free day.

derick and i had lunch together, and talked about law & order, and our dads. i think that things will be better at work from this point on.

working with audrey and gavin was fun. we are starting a magnetic fields coverband, ideally. we think that the indie kids will love us, and that we might start playing shows upstairs at starbucks in the middle of the night. gavin and i sang most of "i" tonight. it is true that no one wants you when you're a circus clown. i should know. i looked all over town.

in other news, slightly magnetic fields related, or, more precisely, to borrow their words, 'if there is such a thing as love, i've caught it.' i am at a point where the only thing to do is nothing, though. i am remembering something that brynn used to say to me a lot, where she thought at times that her entire life was in her own head, and possibly not real. i don't think that she is guilty of valerie levels of solipsism, but just a healthy questioning of reality. similarly, yeah, i don't know. perhaps most of this year is in my head, that i am seeing things the way i like to see them, rather than as they are.

i listened to so many amazing songs today. i was driving down rugby road, and actually screaming some rilo kiley, and people were looking at me, but i didn't care... it was just me and jenny, and there were other voices too, our arms outstretched...
and if you want me, you'd better speak up, 'cause i won't wait, so you'd better moooooove fast!

i want to write a story and end it with the words WE HAD LIVED!

a first for everything.

so, tonight, for the first time ever, i think i can honestly that i acted without thinking. i let instincts guide me, and this is what they did.
1. drive to starbucks, order half-caff soy misto.
2. drive to sarah's. knock on door.
3. present coffee, kiss her.
4. begin talking very quickly.
now, dear reader, you'd think that this would be great, and yes, i will admit to feeling something of a euphoric high right now. however, there is something else, too.

this is the first time ever that i kissed someone who didn't kiss me back. ever. like, in 23 and three quarter years of kissing people.

so where does this leave me?
more confused then ever. i mean, i am one who is prone to mundane but grand romantic gestures, in a style that is deliberately very michael. i am accustomed to non-reciprocation, and even anger, but i am not accustomed to what seems to be ambivalence towards romance. i just want some indication, really, of what is wanted from me, even if the answer is no, nothing. i am going to wear these keys to nothing, and my fingertips too, if i don't stop doing this chronic constantly-re-edited journaling, trying to figure out what i mean.

sigh.

readership.

let this serve as a warning, for lack of a better word, that i am going to take your advice, and do whatever it is i want to do. it probably involves kissing you next time i see you.

(and michael waits for the text messages to begin)

what we fall for when we're already down.

It’s eight twenty in the morning, and I am awake, and I am awake because I haven’t slept yet. I stayed up all night writing emails and doing research, looking for single origin coffees that are organic, shade-grown, AND fairly traded. This was not an easy feat. The emails I wrote took the forms of numbered lists, because I have new clarity, and it is frightening and wonderful and intense.
Sarah and I crossed paths on Univ Ave, and I texted her, and she called me. We ran into each other in sbux, and she told me that my eyes looked more open than they normally do, and I told her that she is slightly cross-eyed. She took it well, I think. I told her my theory on imperfection, that imperfections become charming very quickly, and about how my teef are crooked, because part of my jawbone is made of plastic, or at least I think it is—there was a lot of anesthesia, I don’t really remember. Anyway, yeah. Still in love, pointlessly. I can’t even tell if there is any chance anymore, and more importantly, I don’t know if I care. Now I will ask the question that only hopeless, irresponsible, hypersensitive romantics ask—do we love someone for that person, or for ourselves? Terribly unanswerable question—is it wrong, is it selfish, even, for me to continue loving someone because of the benefits I receive from it? I don’t know how to even begin answering that question. I mean, she hasn’t even seen The Royal Tennenbaums.
So. Thirty days ago, someone told me something about being happy, joyous, and free. I am finally starting to see how it is that I am free to do the other two, free of depressants and obligations to self-destruction. Already, I like myself more than I used to, which is bizarre. I mean, who am I? Who am I?
Scott at sbux has become my new favorite barista. He showed up over an hour early for work, and has been sitting here, talking to me about books and Sex and the City and swimming. His voice has such calming tones. I want to speak with hushed, calming tones.
My next major project in life will be denim. Yes. I am going to buy myself a new pair of jeans for tax day, to celebrate myself, and my dedication to the starbucks diet of espresso and expired pastries. i deserve paper denim.

ghandi vs. baumer.

this post is going to be random and all over the place.

the j tells me i will be getting my powerbook friday. i have decided that i will be ordering this custom built timbuk2 bag.

i think that the colors are pretty, and hopefully, audrey will make me a nice sock for it that matches perfectly. i am going to be the cutest powerbook user in town.

i played tennis with the bucket and the howitzer tonight. it was crazy fun. i hadn't played tennis in years, but i remembered my killer backhand, like, instantly. okay, so maybe i didn't actually hit any balls onto the right court, but who's counting, right? here is a picture of me as a ball-boy.


one of my new hobbies is to pretend that i am a freelance photojournalist covering a civil war while rusty and i play sports. here are some examples of my work tonight. if only you could hear the noises lauren makes when she plays, and then the giggles that erupt when you comment on them.





(i know they're blurry, and i don't care. i'm a poet, barista, and occasional athlete, not a fucking photographer.)

i am now officially at 30 days sobriety. wo0t? i get another poker chip at my next meeting, but i think i'll wait til my wednesday discussion group to get it. i love those people.

on hypothetical coffee shop news, i have a lot of stuff figured out. i think i have a name, if my business partner approves it. i found an amazing furniture manufacturer/distributor, and it is exactly what i was looking for. i drew a small sketch of what i'd like to have in my squared moleskine for lauren tonight. i want this so badly. also, i have a provisional menu! simplify simplify simplify. now, all i need is a couple hundred thousand, a staff, and more of these amazing blessings that have been bestowed upon me so far this year.

i had a long talk with katherine this afternoon, during which i realized that i learned so much of who i am, and, more importantly, who i want/wanted to be, when i was with her. i remember late night conversations in denny's about our future(s). i want nothing but the best for her, even if it does mean she has to go to duke. her parents must be so crushed.

okay. i am wired, for some reason. i am going to read some of the big book, and then read some psalms. i don't even know who i am anymore, but i am so happy right now, inexplicably happy.

sweet dreams, sleeping little michael. sweet dreams, bedford falls.

sleeping little michael

My favorite drawing of me, ever, by Lauren Cousar.

lovers need lawyers.

so audrey and i spent our night at work talking about naked portafilters and single-origin americano as drip replacement, about sleeves as stampcards, black t-shirts and diesel jeans and chap-style aprons, and convenience store gossip. it helped the time pass. time is fickle, lately--i feel almost like i have too much of it. i need a hobby. also, audrey is going to make me a giant powerbook sock, should this dream of a new powerbook materialize.

i've been going through alternating stages of 'fuck it, you're not worth the trouble' and 'i am so in love with you, and i don't care if you ever love me back, thank you for existing so i can feel this way.' i really don't like this dichotomy. perhaps it is a dialectic? i want to see what sort of hegelian synthesis will work it's way out of this. i am glad that i am at a point in my life when i can turn everything into theory. brynn is right--we are exceptionally well-trained at finding themes, to the point of being disappointed by predictible movies.

i had a margo-moment this morning, at church. everything was suddenly example after example of synchronicity. synchronicity. synchronicity. i am so amazed that i forgot about that. there are all of these arrows pointing me to think that i should be grateful for my troubles. i am starting to agree, perhaps.

i don't know why this post isn't going chronologically. i normally like to have some order to things. rusty and i played soccer today, and did it in the style of photojournalists covering a war. example follows.

let's fuck it up, boys, make some noise.

so, one of the things on my list of things that i don't like is sleep. i guess i have this problem with feeling safe when i am asleep, especially asleep alone. i remember on the day after my birthday, when mandy called me in my dorm room, and she told me that alex had died, and i was asleep on the couch, and i hung up on her, and then danah came into my room, and everything kind of stopped, or went really quickly, or i don't know. i know i was there, but that's it.

so, this morning, while i was asleep on the couch, lauren sat on one of the purple arm chairs and sketched a drawing of me, asleep, shaved head and all. it was weird--i never knew what i looked like asleep, and since i don't do it that often, not many people have seen me as such. i had no idea that i looked so peaceful, so calm, so still. i want to ask lauren if i can take a copy of it and post it up here.

during this time, an unanswered phone call (two years ago, i would have called it a 'failed attempt at epic conversation') asked me if i would sit for a portrait. strange--twice in one day. that one didn't work out, though--apparently, she had other things to take care of.

i lost my keys for an hour or so, and called rusty to see if he had them, and he said "no. we're stuck in a ditch in the woods." my response to this was priceless: "shit. well, does lauren have my keys?" sometimes i wonder why people are friends with me, as i just seem to be more and more of an asshole every day.

work was work--nothing exciting. i am so jazzed about the prospect of naked/crotchless espresso. i think i found a distributor for the type of machine i need, and also, in the process, an interesting idea regarding single-origin espresso. i hope this coffee shop thing happens; i would be so good at it, and it would be so nice to have a place that was my own. back to reality, though, geoff and jen were phenomenal, and we raced out of there in record time. i saw akash and dennis, and we briefly discussed life, post-1810. i may get lunch with them tomorrow. strange strange strange.

i am minute-by-minute bobbing up and down on waves of anger and serenity. this is totally a rashomon situation, and i don't know who to believe, because, in the end, it's all the truth, and there is no reality. so, i guess, what i mean to say is, fuck you, akira kurosawa, you destroyed the only means i had of looking at the world!

so, yeah. goodnight?

crotchless espresso

and finally, children, everything falls into place. for the mythical coffee shop i am going to be opening, i have discovered the secret that will set it apart. i am so glad that i waste so much time floating around the internet and reading other people's blogs. i just need to:
1. open a coffee shop.
2. do surgery on a la mazzorroco.
3. take my own photos of it.

until then, i hope that this borrowed picture of crotchless espresso holds you over.

i'm sorry but i was just thinking of the right words to say

so, today, as fridays go, was an interesting one.

i went to my usual wed/fri meeting, and it was so good. i didn't say anything, but a bunch of people there said hi to me when i came in. i finally have a copy of the big book, and i really think that there is a way that i can make it work for me. i think i found someone whom i can ask to be my sponsor last night, and i need to get on that. anyway, it was a good day for sobriety. i even went in maartens and had my burger, and i felt no pressure at any point to drink--that isn't a place i can go to every day, but i was able to go today, and it was fine.

after that, i met with daniel and gordon, two really amazing men. i had asked daniel if we could get together and talk about some questions i had about the whole faith thing, and he brought gordon, and the two of them asked me more questions than i asked of them. they helped me see that i am already on the path to finding what i am looking for, that doubts are necessary, that asking for help generally is a good first step to take. gordon gave me a book he thinks i should read, and daniel recommended another. they prayed with me, which wasn't as weird as i thought it would be. i actually kind of liked it.

everything lately has been about narrative. i mean, the whole AA thing is basically telling your story, and learning from others, and becoming stronger through shared narratives. daniel and gordon and i told each other our stories today, and we all hit similar points. i don't want to invoke ezra pound, but i think that the tale of the tribe thing might actually be stronger than i ever gave him credit for.

so, i went to nancy's opening down at fusion. i am still so amazed at the way she uses color--i never thought that she would be someone to paint in sharp lines and colors the way she does. i wish i knew more about painting, and i wish that i had a few hundred dollars to buy one of her paintings. maybe someday? she told me that i have to buy one when i start making money off of my poetry. we smiled and agreed.

then i came home--lauren made enchiladas for me and rusty. they were delicious, and we watched a really disturbing film about a photojournalist in el salvador, and then rusty and i shaved our heads.

my birthday is only two months and change away... some ideas, for those who may buy me things.

could this be the coolest t-shirt ever? especially considering that i went to high school in suffolk county? why don't i remember that day?

though it may pain her to do so, i specifically want stefanie to buy me this shirt, because she needs to learn to laugh at her current situation.

if i didn't think that he would kill me, i'd get this one for akash. he'd probably kill me, though.

that is all for now. start buying.

is anyone electrically minded/good with soldering?

so, i want to build one of these, so someone learn a thing or two about electricity, and someone else eat a tin of mints. awesome.

if i had another voice

so, i went to this site, and was completely amused for at least fifteen mintues at the absolute coolness of this facial transformer thing.

some examples.

this is good ol' little michael


this is afro-carribean little michael


this is old little michael


this is el greco little michael


and, my favorite, botticelli little michael


i can't wait to get old--won't be as bad as i thought. also, looking forward to a portrait by el greco. good times, most likely.

i held your camera like a bible

so today was not an easy day, from two o'clock on. the management meeting at work very quickly turned into a villification of poor little michael, and michael did not respond very well to that. i went on the offensive, and realized that my system of beliefs regarding what can and what cannot be said to others does not apply to everyone else, and is not something that the store cares about. i don't think that i am too sensitive, but maybe i am.
i left work because i felt sick--my tooth started aching, and my gums were bleeding a little, and i realized it was because of 1. my latent fear that i am going to become addicted to pain killers if i ever have more dental work done, such that whenever i get really upset, it psychosomatically manifests itself at the points where my wisdom teeth were extracted, and 2. because i was grinding my teeth so hard that, yes, my gums were bleeding. i had a thirst in my mouth that i recognize as the need for an angry beer and an angry shot, and i wasn't ready for that. i used my personal emergency card, and left, and went straight to a meeting.
it was a men's group meeting, and it got me thinking about the ways that men get along, and don't, and how this is something that has always worried me. i came home, and first started looking for another job; then i talked to j, and he helped me realize that the hardest thing to do would be to stay there and to make things better. i think that this is what i am going to do. i am going to write derick a letter, and invite him to go out to lunch with me, and to try to start over and become friends. i only need to work there until june, apparently. we'll see.
so, aside from that, and a domestic disturbance between our downstairs neighbors, today has been a good day. i am writing a poem about electricity, over on the other page, and i realized that i can get as angry as i want and not have to drink. i have amazing friends, all of whom offered to call me immediately, and rusty and i played video games together.
tomorrow may be harder, tomorrow may be easier, but if i handled today, i am not so worried about it.

quick update.

superhot-ashley just came over and talked to me. oh my god. i think she touched my shoulder. i don't know anything about her, but fuck, she is gorgeous, and she has beautiful teeth.

yeah, they go wild...

i stayed up all night listening to bright eyes, and trying to re-write four lines of a poem, and obsessing, and sleeping, and then not sleeping, and then thinking about not paying rent this month so i could buy a new pair of jeans. i guess it was productive. now i am back at starbucks, stealing some free wireless from across the street, and here, writing, about what, i am not so sure.
i am kind of dreading a few inevitibles right now. there is going to be a terrible meeting this afternoon at starbucks. i will eventually have to have something resembling a real conversation with someone; defining our non-relationship, and what, if anything, we'd like it perhaps to be. i need to sit down and do research, and look at my finances, and et cetera. i have to continue to watch rusty and lauren be slightly unhappy, in the midst of their insane general happiness. i don't know. some days are harder than others.
the topic at my meeting this morning was resentment, and how to handle it, and how, as alcoholics, we become our resentments. it's strange, perhaps, but i like knowing that the things about myself that i do not like are the same things that other people in these rooms do not like about themselves. i am getting pretty good at this one-day-at-a-time thing, but i am by no means comfortable. i am grateful, though.
i don't really know what to say or do right now. i imagine that i'll have something of note to say later.

restrained optimism.

so. i think that there is a point when everything starts to tip back in the other direction. right now, i think that it has to do with the calendar, and possibly the pull of the moon. it's been a month since that last brief interlude of something remotely true (rusty would be so proud) occurred, and today, i feel closer to that day than i have at any other point during this month. i sent a text message i shouldn't have, and maybe everything will be okay, regardless. i can't really tell anymore. you can't--and shouldn't--believe everything you hear, but if even a sliver of it is true, well, if there is any chance of emotional reciprocity, bring it. i can handle it.
tonight was taylor's birthday, so we did the normal windswept fields birthday thing--i watched everyone get drunk and high, then we had cake. i am constantly in awe of this strange little group of people that i have surrounded myself with. it's definitely a family, in a very tolstoy sense.
i wrote an email to someone tonight, explaining my thoughts on the word 'documentary.' i meant it to be romantic; it will probably be interpretted as pedantic. are these things any different?
lauren asked me to make a list of things that i like and dislike. this is going to be my project for the morning.

i am now going to end the evening by listening to the new bright eyes albums i just bought.

inaccurately named.

so, as i am making my entire life digital, for those who are so intrigued, i've re-established my photo-storage site. i never claimed to be, nor pretended to be, an actual photographer. i just like taking pictures, of people, of glassware, and of empty armchairs. so, anyway, yeah.

pictures of success

and i think that dress looks nice on you

so. i had something of an amazing night. after the usual dinner with the entourage, logan came over and we put together a care package for our boy arnold, hanging out over in baghdad. we made him a handful of CDs, we bought him a carton of camel wide lights, and we wrote him a letter, while sitting at the bar in maartens. we took turns, paragraph by paragraph, mostly making fun of each other for hooking up with each other's exes. we talked about how hard it is to write a serious letter to arnold, about the serious thoughts that we have in our hearts about him, about the constant concerns and occasional anger that we feel, about how we wish we were more comfortable calling his parents.
it was my first night in maartens not drinking. i had a coke out of my mug. i filled logan in on things that have been happening in my life, both regarding AA, failed relationships, failed expectations at work, and that other strange quasi-meta-romance-type-thing at work, which i am fortunately not at liberty to discuss for the following reasons: 1) she may be reading this; 2) i promised that i wouldn't tell anyone; 3) i would totally get fired. logan and i talked about the old days, about blizzards on president's day weekend, and throwing mattresses down on the ground, about roast beef and tape recorders hidden by arnold's bed, about southpaw t-shirts, random monday nights, and that which can only be described as mad-lyrical, empirical. more than anything--the business, the romance, the sobriety, the faith--i want arnold to come home safely. now.
logan is drawing up plans for a house he wants to build. i think that i am going to write a screenplay. we are all going to move to cali, and it will be beast, and there won't be worries. i want to be able to write this as a story that ends with the triumphant exclamation We had lived!
also, i am getting a new computer in six to eight weeks! nerd-rock out time!