Strange Bedfellows in Strange environments

Misery is one of the catalysts but the real culprit is deeper. There is something in the surroundings of a man that lead him to choices. Infused in the walls of each room are the tendencies that place provides for. This weekend some bedfellows were the products of environment. Not a new and different person but a new and different situation. Each step is a new frontier where we immediately build an outpost and settle. Welcome to the Wild Wild West.

Spirit of Timidity

The door closes and rules change
Innocent to the touch
So perfect how could this be compromise
New issues with the same face
Complete disclosure would close her

The house is getting too small
It is invading every crevice
Skeletons are pushed behind books

Honesty comes later
After the white washed tomb
of an Uncircumcised Heart.
Repent for the masses and
Congratulate the complacency
Of one so far from victory.

Confessions of a Birderer

I bought a bird from my mother today. See wanted to give it to me but I did the adult thing and left her money on the kitchen counter with a little note that said "Ha Ha gotcha now you have to take my money punk". So we'll see how that goes. But the importance of the bird buying is that i have a bird now. This is a whole new world for a man who has never been anything but birdless his whole life. I put him in a cage that I used to use for holding my knife collection. I decided to put my knife collection in my kitchen cabinet next to the wine rack full of transmissions. I have been calling the bird Tweedy but haven't officially written anything on his birth certificate so his name is still up in the air. (Note: Bird pun was just attempted) I am also assuming he is a boy because all things blue have a Y chromosome if you get what sizzling on the hot coals of innuendo. I don't think he likes me. But perhaps he is just sacred to live in the old knife cage. Lord knows I would think twice before sleeping on a stick that used to hold a machete. What do you feed a bird. I don't have any seed or anything. I have a few cashews but I'm afraid they are about the size of his head. But then again people eat melons all the time and they are definitely as big as an average human head. On second thought I can see why my mom wanted to get rid of this thing. All it does is stand there and glare at you. "What's the matter Tweedy? are you clinically depressed. Do you have anger issues. Did your daddy beat you when you were an egg. Huh. Huh. Stop looking at me you stupid birdbrain or I will straight kick your cage from hear to tim buck freaking too. You hear me. You hear me. What? You think that's funny. Are laughing at me. All show you who's the big bird in my house. Die Stupid Animal. Die." Sorry I just got a little carried away. So yeah. Umm. Anyone want buffalo wings for dinner? . . . I bought them at Sam's Club . . . last week. . . .I swear. It's not dead tweedy I promise.

Unto the third and fourth generation

Pain is in the tendencies
I can spot it a mile away
What else could he be doing

The routines that used to be mine
Before I perfected my lies
No innocence in an image age

Pain is in the silence
I refuse to admit my own improprieties
Role models model death to the dying

Maturity brings new closets
Denial is an art form
I can't even look in his eyes

Pain is in the similarities
The vigilant lust is to be pleased
Or the demon will only grow stronger

He is me. And I am He
What will They Become
Please God kill the shadows today

Pain is in the criminal dispositions
Can even retrospect correct this?
Or will the next follow in lockstep

To see him lie my lies
To see him reach in my bag of tricks
To see him seek at all cost
To see him lose his innocence
To see him begin to die
To see him mirror my every sin

Is to see my own sin again

Another notch of knowledge in my proverbial belt of untruth serum. Winner's syndrome pledges the excuse-ridden man of smiles. Tell me a factoid and I will refute the possibility instantly like a star wars force field. Laser Disk copies of useless trivia plant their roots into my brainwashed mind. Escape in education and find the worthlessness of intellect. Touch the boundaries of the learned with a cynics hand and a blind hunters eye. Feed me more destruction before I destroy my will to eat. Take away the way to truth and dance in the falling sky without a parachute for moments from now the ground is coming. Please God bottom out soon or I'll be damned to the constant mediocrity of the air surrounding my fall.

I am not really getting through to myself very well. I have a whole plate full of things I want to do with my life and I just can't seem to work up an appetite. Pardon the mixed metaphor but that's what life's like sometimes, a mixed metaphor of half-truths and meaningless meanings. I wish to overcome that one day. To bad I've lost my genie in a bottle of cheap wine. I cried. Does that mean anything? We'll see. I've cried before. I remember it somewhat. And look where that has gotten me today: two pennies shy of a broken piggy bank. The days will continue to pile up like my dirty laundry and the errors will continue to pile up like the laundry that is indeed in need of air. Pardon the mixed metaphor.

So tired. So in love. So ready to begin. So glad to be home. So sunburned. So going to bed.

So I am home from school now. I still feel like I have to leave any day, but I don't. I have the whole summer. What scares me is that I feel like I am just as capable of being a lazy bum in Kansas City as I am in Chicago. I spent a year making excuses about how much it sucked to be away from my friends and family and Melissa, but I think all that was just me being lazy. I need to get on the ball and just start doing what I know I should be doing. I don't regret going away to school, I regret using it as an excuse to live a sucky life.