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Jul. 8th, 2014



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Apr. 26th, 2014


Le††er †o \AZ

Letter To \AMCollapse )

H0w DiD †HeY BrEAK Up?

"You want to know why AMD broke up with her ex-boyfriend?  I'll call my friend Allen right now, I'll call him right now and ask, I will call him and ask him" his words slurred together into a long drawn out drunken soliloquy.

"Well, I certainly don’t want you to go out on a limb.  It would be nice to know, but it's really not that..."

"F%@# it.  I'm calling him.  No.  No.  You need to know - you need to know, brother, I am calling him" he cried out as he clumsily grasped for his phone.  Once a drunken man gets an idea into his head, it's very difficult to convince him otherwise.  After fumbling for his phone for a minute, he called Allen.

"Allen!" he shrieked as he heard a familiar voice on the other end.  "How are you?  Yea, listen...I'm here with a friend and I need to ask you a question.  Why did AMD break up with her boyfriend?"

Immediate silence fell upon him as he hung on every word that poured through the phone; he was suddenly transformed from a belligerent drunk into a man with a purpose - a man whose sole obsession was to figure out why AMD broke up with her ex and relay the information to me.  I studied his face as he listened; his eyes narrowed and his face took on an expression of concentration, of intrigue, of worry.  The atmosphere had shifted from friendly banter into serious discourse - whatever was being said on the other side of the phone was of grave importance to all parties present.  First a minute, then two then ten and suddenly it was fifteen minutes into the conversation and the man upheld the strong face of conviction...and then it was over.

The conversation ended as abruptly as it began, he hung up the phone and met my eyes with a grave look of concern as if a terminal illness was about to be diagnosed.  Silent hesitation filled the air as we sat there, locked in a daze of anticipation as the recent conversation played heavily on both of our minds.

"F#@!....what was I saying?" His look of concern quickly retreated into bewilderment as the dedicated inquirer faded back into a feeble drunk.  Not to be deterred by his lack of focus, he continued "Oh, the conversation...oh he ummm....oh shit...uh" the effect of the alcohol was raging through this system - there was no denying he was drunk out of his mind.

"Look, all I remember is...he said something about 'manipulative psycho'.  He knew about you; AMD talked about you with him, she called you her boyfriend.  He knew you used to go back to visit family every weekend and that you stopped going back because she kept you here - she was about it."

Shocked and in complete disbelief, I made him repeat the last sentence, "He knew about me?  He knew I visited family every weekend?"

"Yea, Bro.  I didn't bring it up.  I didn't tell him anything - he knew, he told me!  He told me that you went back every weekend and that she was keeping you here.  He said...that was like…something else..." his mind trailed off, then came roaring back, "Oh!  AMD and her ex-boyfriend were playing pool, and someone said something, or something happened, and she ran out of the bar crying.  I think, that's.....I think that's how they broke up."

Apr. 19th, 2014


...†HeN I†'s GoNe.

  "This is your bank, isn't it? Do you still need to withdraw money?"

"Yea. I hate this bank - I need to switch."

  "Then switch. Why haven't you?"

"Because I still don't know what city I'm going to be living in. I have to figure out where I'm going to be living then choose a bank accordingly."

  "Is your job moving?"

"No. The job is staying put, I just can't decided if I am moving. I have an issue with commitment".

  He let out a haughty laugh and continued, "I know you have issues with commitment".


  "You wont commit to anything; then once it's gone you obsess about it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Nothing [ObLiVioN]; it's not supposed to mean anything."

In the end, we both knew exactly what it was supposed to mean and although I hated him for saying it not even I could deny the truth of it all.

Nov. 22nd, 2013


AR†iCLE: WHa† i†'s LikE to FAiL.

What It's Like to Fail
David Raether Priceonomics Nov 2013

I wanted to share an article I read; it's about a comedic writer that ended up losing his job, home, and eventually his family. I found the following quote particularly poignant and very well stated:

"What happens when you hit bottom? I can tell you one thing: you don’t bounce back. You crawl back, fighting every step of the way. It isn’t a straight arc back up either; there are dozens of setbacks every step of the way. And the place you land isn’t anywhere near where you were when you slipped off the cliff."

Eventually, the author begins to piece his life back together and makes contact with his children. It is through the reconnection with his children that he wraps up the essay in an eloquent ending,

"...But I have held onto what I value much more: my children and their enduring love and affection, my health, and my ambition and self-belief. And in the end, those were the only things worth keeping."


Nov. 18th, 2013


HoW WAs YouR DA†E?

"....How was the date?"

"Terrible.  The girl was completely horrible at conversation, every conversation opener I threw at her failed miserably.  I even went so far as to ask what she liked to do for fun, and do you know what she responded with?"


"She says, 'People always ask me that and I'm not sure what I do for fun, I'm always busy... I just...I don't know....sometimes I read'.  ...Toss me a bone woman!  I understand the question wasn't the best, but if you can't even sum up what you like to do for fun...frustrating man, frustrating!" I shook my head in disappointment.

He jerked his head cautiously, pondering the simplicity of the question with the lackluster response.

"And another thing....I used my classic 'brother' opener - which is gold.  I've probably used it about a dozen times; each time it works flawlessly.  She asks me if I have any siblings, I respond with, 'I do.  I have one brother.  I have a brother and if we had a line-up here, you would not be able to pick him out - he and I are that different!  We are complete opposites!' and beam a healthy, cocky, smile.  Though, she doesn't respond, she cracks a faint - uninterested smile - and responds with 'oh'.  Such a waste of time, man, waste of time!"

"Oh wow, so you have a brother?"

Realizing where this was going, I pause cautiously then continue, "Yea, I'm kind of secret with my life; I keep some things to myself."

He chuckles and responds back sarcastically, "Wow, I didn't noticed" and immediately follows it up with "I think I know more about you from  [Ex-Girlfriend] than from you."

I was immediately taken back; while I never considered myself secret I've heard those very same words from close friends.  My mind flashed back to a conversation between two close friends, one jokingly commented to the other: "Wow, you must be special.  It took me six years to figure out [Oblivion-Falls] had a brother, you were able to do it in four" the two friends burst out in collective laughter.  That was then, this was now.  Some things change, some things don't.

"Yea well..." I let it drop at that.


Nov. 12th, 2013



I have an addiction, and the name of my addiction is 'online dating'.  I've been doing it for awhile and have it down to a science - a series of impersonal rules and regulations that attempt to create a personal relationship.

Comment on something unique in the profile
Don't be too bold in humor/joking.  Mild jokes that play to the masses work best
Don't ask for a date until the 3rd/4th round of messaging
Don't get caught up with a single profile, or rejection - it's about mass messaging
Don't give out your phone number; don't ask for hers
First dates aren't anything special; coffee for most girls, beer if you think the girl will swing it
Be decisive; don't allow the girl to choose the location
Talk excessively; throw out references in hopes the conversation will continue for another volley

While it seems like fun and games, it's actually quite a dangerous place to be as I find myself placing more and more of my self-worth in the responses I received.   It's like a drug, while the responses are coming in I have the sublime feeling of accomplishment, but that’s only while the responses are coming in that I am at ease.  Once they subside I'm back to a nervous existential wreck.  Strange as it may seem, I question if it's even about the girls or rather about testing the free market; finding your self-worth in the opinions of others.... :\

Jan. 5th, 2013


'Beep Beep'

I was talking on the phone, just having a normal conversation, when the phone let out a 'beep beep' indicating it had received a text message.  This was nothing new as I had received the notification a hundred, maybe even a thousand times before but this time it sounded different.  I paused as I asked myself, "Is that what it sounds like when I receive a text message while talking on the phone?"  The 'beep beep' was so distinct, so unmistakable that it was as if I was hearing it for the first time. While the clarity of the tone sparked my curiosity, I let it pass and continued my conversation.  When I had finally finished talking, I flipped open my phone to read the message:

"Hi there :)So, I have to cancel tonight. My ex and I have been trying to work things out and we have and we are back together. I'm sorry."

I closed the phone and cried.

Oct. 17th, 2012


Wha† DiD You SaY?

When you're drunk, the first thing you lose is your ability to hear.

She was three drinks in and decided to shift the conversation from the everyday trivial to more important issues.  "I think he will propose" she blurted out, unleashing a demon that weighed heavy on her heart.

Her confession came like clockwork.  During our last two drunken encounters she continued on in the same fashion - diving into relationship issues that hounded her psyche after the alcohol began to take hold.  During the first episode I was naïve enough to believe that there was a special bond that united us and allowed her to eagerly express her most intimate concerns, but after experiencing it twice I realized it was just one lonely stranger reaching out to another lonely stranger.

"What will you say?" I replied in neutral tone implying neither acceptance nor scorn.  I already knew the answer, but I asked the question anyways - for her sake. 

"Well..." she began in an uneasy tone.  "I think he has started --- [rings], ---- [may propose]" her words were violently cut apart by the combined chatter of our fellow bar patrons and a fifty-inch television that vomited up play-by-play baseball analysis.

"He ----- [immigration status] ------ [marry citizen or] --------.  ------ [Because it will] -------- [we have been good for a month] ------- [say I can do better].  -------- [Called my Dad, I had no one else] ----- [not enough money to bring his family from Mexico] ------ [doesn't accept me] ------"

I wanted to call her an idiot.  I wanted to tell her that we had relived this moment twice before - each with her outpouring leading to a breakup followed by a teary reunion the very next day.  I wanted her to know that I was finished believing her drunken ramblings and was calling her bluff - no matter how shitty her relationship was she wasn't about to walk away.  Her beautiful smile and slender frame did an excellent job of portraying the calm collected image of someone who had her life in order, but it was beginning to give way to a vulnerable, unconfident girl that wasn't about to trade a lackluster relationship for the promise of something better.

Perhaps it was \LM walking out that made me so cold, or it may have been the act of reliving the same conversation twice before only to watch her run back into his arms that made me apathetic to her plea.  As she finished, I stared back in a sense of disbelief coupled with perfect understanding.

"I don't want to tell you what to do, but marriage is a pretty big step.  It is very serious; it's not something to take lightly" I chimed in as I took the easy way out.  Twice before I told her to walk out on him, but the advice had fallen on deaf ears and as such I felt it best to casually punt the ball away and let her discover the truth for herself.

"I know!" she responded back, "my dad always says it should be one and done - don't go in thinking marriage won't be forever.  You have to truly believe in it."

The conversation briefly stopped as she turned towards her phone and picked it up.

"I have to call him and let him know I am with you.  It's better if I tell him we are here rather than him finding out, it just makes things...." her voice trailed off in the violent cacophony of bar patrons and sports announcers.

I returned to my beer and stopped listening.


Aug. 21st, 2012


GooD Nigh† /Lm

/Lm and I are no longer in a relationship.

A better, more honorable, man would have allowed the relationship to pass away peacefully with dignity in the dead of the night.  I, however, am not that better man.  I cried, bargained, and pleaded to keep the relationship alive long after it was pronounced dead.  The more she ignored my calls and texts, the more adamant I became about resurrecting something that was long deceased.  Undeterred by her silence, I continued to message her until a single text with the soul-shattering words of "I think it would be best if you stop texting and calling me" was returned.  Pleading with her not to 'cut me off like we were nothing', she, without missing the beat, responded back with 'well, I do think about all the times that you screwed me over'

Sitting in the torrent of it all, watching the tide of circumstance pull her farther and farther away I, once again,  became reacquainted with the cruel notion of "No" and the hopelessness of being unable to change an inevitable outcome.  Desperation, like many emotions, is a telling test of one's character - a test I undoubtedly failed.  Even after weeks of silence from her, I still send my customary "Good Morning" and "Good Night" messages to a number that has vowed never to respond.

In the light of her absence, I have now assumed the role of a forensic investigator, diligently working to compile the shattered pieces of an obscure and distant existence into something familiar and tangible.  The photographs and half-forgotten memories of our relationship have acquired a surreal tone of a mythical story that occurred far far away.  Memories of a trip through the park, nightly walks by the stadium, climbing over rocks to gaze upon a valley populated by trailer parks have all been bathed in the wash of nostalgia and now appear whiter than ever, so white that their mere mention leaves teardrops in my eye.  It is my job to match those images and memories with the here and now.

The end of the relationship has left me asking many questions, but the question, "Who is [ObLiVioN-FalLs]?" has become particularly poignant.   That question has become my own expression of frustration and despair.  My futile search for a new beginning ultimately harkens back to a search of the past, as it is impossible to determine where to go until you have realized where you have been.  This search has become rather elusive as photographs, videos and journal entries capture mere droplets of the vast sea of an existence once lived.  It's within the totality of this proverbial sea that I have both fear and hope; hope of answering the question "Who is [ObLiVioN-FalLs]?", fear of the possibility of having no answer.  The notion of falling into oblivion, which was what this journal was predicated on, has become more real than ever.

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