Archive for the Blogging Category

Resent me.

| June 24th, 2016

“Everything you touch turns to shit,”

The more I think of it, the more I think it’s true. Everything I say or do; every relationship I have, is made worse by me.

“I deserve a husband that puts attention to me,”

I’m an anxious, broken man. Frozen because I’m afraid to move. I’m afraid that you attention will burn me, so I run away.

“I deserve a husband that’s attracted to me.”

I don’t know what to say. I feel so empty and sad sometimes. I love you, and I want you, but you don’t want me to touch you, until you do.

“I deserve a husband that can give me a third child without autism.”

Yes. Yes you do. I can’t give that to you. I wish I could. I see the envy in your eyes. I can feel every missed milestone like a dagger in my heart. I love my children I’m proud of who they are, and I love who the will become, but I know this isn’t an easy road.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

I can’t think of a thing I’ve made better in this life. I think my friends are friends despite me.

I’m sorry you have to resent me

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

Even my mother got tired of me, although she’d never admit it.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

I’m sorry I make you resent me.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

I just bull through life, hoping for the best.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

Perhaps it was an inevitability.

“I deserve someone better.”

You didn’t say it, but you said it. And it’s true.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”



Resents me eventually.

The facade fades, the music grows tiresome, the dance ends.

The band stops. The game ends.
And in the end.


| June 9th, 2016

I have a strange memory.

People come up to me, and tell me that they knew me in school. I have no idea who they are.

I have little interpersonal memory. Sorry.

But I remember so much trivia from movies, or literature or books. So many minute details. Pebbles that shined amongst the sand.

I also remember sensual things. The way my mother shuddered when I’d hold her after she got out of the hospital. I remember her hair falling out as she brushed it. I remember the smell of stale Merlot and Urine. I remember how steady her heart beat was as I hugged her. I remember her breath being ragged when I was little, and feeling her ribs. I remember as she grew stronger as I grew older, and yet as she beat cancer, she succumbed to another disease.

I remember the smell of sweat, and cologne as pressed my head against my father’s belly. I remember how it grew softer, and larger through the years. I remember his big hands running through my hair, and the baritone voice that would read poetry to me.

I remember the smell of lavender my first real girlfriend used to use to cover up the smell of vodka and whiskey and vomit in her apartment.

I remember the soft snore the first night I spent with my wife. I thought it was adorable, and disturbing. I remember the sounds of her neighbor’s yippy dog, and the smell of her apartment; rice and paint. and Lake Street. I remember the muffled sound of fiesta as I would drift off on her couch.

A strange memory perhaps. But beautiful too.

I’m sorry if I don’t remember you.

I’m Not A Racist!

| July 29th, 2013

Honestly, I think that racism is much more nuanced than many of the broad strokes painted by these reactions, counter-reactions, and counter-counter reactions that have permeated the net since the Zimmerman trial.

Most people, %99, do not identify themselves as racist, because most of what they do is not racist. However, %99 of us are guilty of racist behavior. monster beats facebook frequency response Almost all of us do something that is motivated by race; consciously or unconsciously. Unfortunately, the rhetorical tool we have to address and recognize the racist behavior we see in others is to lob “You’re a racist” bombs at each other and stick our fingers in our ears. It’s childish, and stupid and counterproductive. Sadly, one of the more honest dialogs about racism, true racism, is in a satirical Broadway show starring puppets. monster beats studio by dr dre ibeats

We all fail to recognize the racial imbalance that happens on a sociological level because we fail to see the tiny, minute racist acts and thoughts we perform that contribute to it. All while saying to ourselves that “No, I’m not a racist, it’s not my fault” No, you’re not a racist, you’re just guilty of racist behavior.

I’m willing to believe that Zimmerman wasn’t a goose-stepping Nazi, or hood wearing redneck. I’m willing to believe that his racial bias and disdain wasn’t against black people as a whole, monster beats earphone ep but young black men. I’m willing to believe that when he looks in the mirror, he says to himself. “I’m not a racist, I spoke out on Sherman Ware. Many of the neighbors I’m trying to protect were black.” Does that exonerate him of racism? No.

I think we’ll be able to actually effect societal change when we recognize that racism isn’t the result of some macro-behavioral, impersonal fault of society, michael kors ava kors ankle boots