wah wah wah...

you know, i never wanted my blog to become a journal. it was meant to be a creative venture - a process - but now its no more than a stack of reports about lame things i see in the street, on the train - or worse - the lame things i feel.

there was a comment posted earlier today about me not writing... nice observation. i had to laugh when i saw the anonymous... i wonder who you are.

i sound all angry. awww... im trying not to be. i just dont get it. park your car in a car park - go to get it and the attendant tells you that you cant have it till 430. or you can leave it overnight - no charge... so now im stuck at work for an extra hour and half - because i refuse to leave my car with the same clowns that stole my swiss army knife.

this dear reader, is why i havent written. cause all im hearing is wah wah wah wah.

stuff and shit
i spend my first six hours in house on my hands and knees scrubbing, my fingers dry and burning. the shower floor, the kitchen tiles, the mosaic in the front hall. a house used only in the summer. neglected during the cooler months when one would need a blanket or another person wrapped around them to survive. with a blue handled metal brush i scrub away the years of indifference, the years of compromise, the years of pain. i scrub the house my grandfather built - overcome with grief. yearning for the ones left an ocean away.

i look through the photos i have with me. a 21st. my farewell. a round of mini golf. but that isnt them. they're made of the bits we built and held together. im gone, but nothing is ever empty. each atom sits beside another and another and another - which is how the air gets thick enough to cut. which is why there is love and music and times that reverberate through your entire body, long after that thing has passed.

i stop scrubbing and pour out the water. from the staircase i look down at the floor. and my heartbreak is there, dirty and still, like a burn mark on a new silk dress.