History will be kind to me for I intend to write it.– Winston Churchill (via libraryland)
I remember walking out of the doctor’s office and stepping into the elevator. I was so excited; I had just found out that your mother and I were going to have a boy. As the elevator went down, my excitement went up. A boy. Your young mother looked happy too. I intended to name you Dallas Winston, after my favorite character from the Outsiders, but your mom would have nothing to do with...
Spicer Town: Exodus
Because of the choices made, of things lost, of memories both good and bad, but mostly because of the swirling smoke and still hot embers of an overly indulgent self sabotage, I pulled up the stakes and disappeared. I left Adolf Street, art, theatre, and the University of Akron. I started a new life and joined Susan at Kent State. I picked a new major, English, while she studied Philosophy. It...
Nobody Knows: Part 1
I’m struggling But you gotta know that I’m trying I’m in a dark place And it feels like I’m dying On the inside Just a little bit at a time On the outside Probably looks like I’m just fine Just remember I still believe in the things that I say I’ll fight the good fight But I just have to find out a way To get rid of some of the demons I got holding me down get off the ground get out of...
Nothing is permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles.– Charlie Chaplin (via kari-shma)
Spicer Town: Donut Tire
Krista was gone, but before long, I woke up to a new girl. This one girl didn’t love me. I was like a spare tire, if you will. I was not another tire, mind you, but rather a donut tire—the kind you ride on until your regular tire is repaired or replaced. That was fine for me at first: she wasn’t the crazy girl, and she didn’t have my tattoo, so, I thought, who cares. I...
Spicer Town: The Wall
Summer was nearly over. D-Rock sat, Buddha like, on the red fuzzy chair. The apartment was dimly lit, as that was our custom in those days. The apartment smelled of incense. I completed my non-dramatic entrance and plopped, defeated, on to our futon. “Where is she?” D asked, his voice somber. “Out with P-funk,” I answer. D had the right to be mad at me, but he was cool. He saw this train...
Spicer Town: Sweet Jane
Orlando, Florida. We stopped at an old style gas station. The Firebird was dying, and we didn’t have any money—we sold blood so we could buy food. I sat behind the steering wheel and looked out toward the dimming world and the orange-red sky. Sweet Jane is playing in the background. What a disaster.
Spicer Town: The Fortune Teller
It was love, for a minute—mad love though. We got tattoos and I gave her a ring. It was the type of love wherein, if it were in a movie, someone would end up dead. The lovers didn’t die in this story but the love did, partly because of the fortune teller. Have your fortune read for five bucks; it seems pretty benign until you factor in the mental stability of the participants. Love was...
It’s all borrowed time anyway, right? I remember, all those years ago, lying there with I.V.’s in both arms and the beeping bustle of the critical care unit breaking though the morphine in warm waves. The doctors didn’t flatter themselves to think they saved me. And yet, despite the predictions they gave my mother, I lived. And still do. In my busy life, I often, more often...
And if I show you my dark side Will you still hold me tonight? And if I open...– Roger Waters, The Final Cut
The best way to defeat a demon is to not create him in the first place. ...– The Prophet