documentation

Well, that's all there is to it, really.

I seldom write in here anymore, though I'm sure that you've noticed that. I always seem to forget that I even have one of these things. I think my neglect to update can be linked to the fact that I don't have the internet at my apartment. Writing about my life at work seems pretty unappealing too and I feel weird doing the same when I'm at the library or something.

Anyway, some new thangs.........

I made a new friend, Matthew. He doesn't go to school, but he's still very well educated simply because he's an autodidact. I really admire that about him, as I do with anyone that reads just for the sake of learning. If I had to describe him and his easy-going ways, I would say that he walks slow. What I mean to say is that I like him because he takes his time and he seems to know that whoever he has waiting will continue to wait for him. I like people like that. People who linger to keep a good conversation going, no matter what their agenda or lack there of. We talk about philosophy and language and books. I like that he talks just for the sake of talking, not because he thinks it will get him anywhere. 

I'm also dating someone whom I adore. All of the apprehension and fear that I once felt before has been shooed away from my mind. I don't know how that came about, but I'm very content. We spend our weekends in the library together. We dive for records and books and watch french movies together, as well as any other type of film. We never talk about the same thing twice and we take walks together, reading prose poems as we trip over cracks in the sidewalks together, a price for reading and walking at the same time. It's very sweet and I love having someone to say goodnight to.

As for the apartment, I'm still there. Dave, K and I were looking into buying a house, but that might have to come a little bit later than what we had hoped for. None of us have full time jobs at this point in time. We can barely scrape by on 550 a month, let alone handle the increased payment for a house where utilities are not included. However, a good bit of news that I discovered is that we are no longer bound to the apartment by a contract for another year. Starting in September our lease goes month to month and we have to give thirty days notice in the event that we do find another place to live. I would love so much to move to a place with hardwood floors. There are so many beautiful and old places in New Cumberland and I wish to live in a place that suits me a little better.

Our living room, however many obstacles it had to offer with its unbearably small space, has finally been rearranged. Thank the snow, because I desperately needed a change.

Dave and Cara went to see "Land of The Lost" last night across the street at the three dollar theater and with that K and I started tearing the place apart. We struggled to lift the incredibly heavy (and awkward to boot) entertainment center from one wall to the other and back again because we kept discovering problems with the cords and outlets and blah blah. It took much exertion, but we had the best time of it while listening to music and collapsing to the floor in mental exhaustion when several of our ideas failed to come together.

Dave came back just as we had sat down to relax and take in the changes. Of course he gave his input and we proceeded to spend another chunk of time moving this and that until he thought it was just right. I don't so much like the changes he made, but it will only have to do for another month.

We are all so terribly excited because we have the internet at home again. I finally bought a power adapter for us all to use and we have since then been huddled together on the couch looking at houses and correcting each others resumes. I figure if we all get day jobs and save for the next month we will do just fine with covering the increased rent that comes along with a house.

We really want to get a place with a basement, simply so we can throw shows. We also want a backyard and a bathroom with a tub just make things all the more enjoyable. I really miss having a tub and a yard.

That's about that. I might post pictures of our living room, but it's not really all that exciting. It was just a clever way to get through the night and make ourselves tired.

I've been having a really great summer season.

I've been to a wedding with someone I adore. We walked amongst people in their formal wear talking of blessings and cheers while eating ice cream and neglecting our mentality that "marriage is a farce." Weddings are nice in that way. You can say whatever heartfelt thing you choose and no one questions whether it is an empty gesture. Everyone was  annoyingly happy despite the humidity of the dreaded Pennsylvania summer. I was happy to share it with someone that suggested we keep getting seconds, thirds, and fourths of the free homemade ice cream.

I've been to a party where everyone stripped and got into the pool together. We adjourned to to the basement, soaking wet and laughing hard to play cards in our underwear. It was exceptionally funny because Rob's grandmother's caretaker heard all the commotion and came to ask if we could keep the noise down. She was utterly shocked by our appearance and that girls and boys can sit and play cards together in the near nude without it turning into something saucy. She exited quickly and Rob is now under house arrest for his stunt. We are partially to blame of course and I miss seeing Rob. He claims it was worth it though and we are all in agreement about that.

Angela's parents have been away all week too. She has a beautiful back yard with a single maple tree next to her pool deck. The branches hung low enough to create sort of a fort effect. I suggested that we all sit under the canopy-like branches and we all spent a few hours out there just drinking beer and smoking ciggs. I got to make some new friends too by sitting and chatting with them in the street. We all even laid down on the asphalt together and fell silent under the moon. It was one of those breezy nights and you could see the clouds moving around inside all of that black. Tyler and I stayed there the longest. I could have slept there next to him. The street felt was still warm from the day and it made me tired and calm.

Though it's been a good season so far, it has also been mournful at times. About two months ago my friend Jimmy called up one of his friends in the early morning and he requested that his friend drive him to the interstate. When they arrived there Jimmy asked his friend to stop the car. With that he exited the car and told his friend not to tell anyone where he was going. He said that he just wanted to live like a bum for a year and clear his head.

It turns out that Jimmy made it as far as Montana. He was canoeing somewhere when something happened and he ended up passing away. It's shocked everyone, no doubt. I think we all find it most shocking because you don't expect anything bad to happen to someone when they are headed out west in search of some peace. You expect them to return home fulfilled and settled and content. You never think that they will come home in a coffin like they were just sent home from some great war.

If his funeral is this week, I don't think I will be in much of a mood to go to Pittsburgh any longer. Jimmy was not one of my best friends, but he came over a lot for a while and slept on our couch and sometimes even on the floor in my room. We would talk about this thing that he wanted to do sometimes. 

I know that boys don't cry, but there is something about the way they only talk about things in smoke-filled basements with too many mirrors or under maple trees in darkened back yards or lying in the middle of street wondering when the sky will crack open. They talk about things that affect them with such indifference that it makes it all the more heartbreaking to me. It's like someone just came along and told them a secret about how to not give a fuck one day. Or maybe someone told them that it was weak to care. I sort of saw that in Jimmy; that indifference and disinterest in his own fate. However, whenever all the beer was gone and we would try to sleep as the sun rose he would talk in that sad indifferent way.

I hope his soul is okay.

I lack structure and discipline and the ability to take others words of compassion for truth.

I would like to change all of this.

It would be nice to love someone and love myself in return.

It would be nice to talk to someone other than my cigarette.

I hate the fourth of July weekend madness and all the fake American pride that comes with it, but I still can't help wanting to have all of my best friends over for a cook out on the roof.

One of my new friends is having a cook out in her enormous tree house. I want to combine forces. By combing forces I mean that I want to combine all of that comforting picnic food and beer into one glorious good time in the woods of Liverpool.

I love tree houses. I love the woods. I love grilled vegetables. I love sleeping outside. I love passing back and forth a bottle. I love campfires. I'm hoping that everything works out so that we can all be together.

For nearly the entire month of June, Harrisburg has been victim to bouts of heartbreaking acts of violence, such as: six straight days of gun violence, a woman raped by three men at gun point in her own home and the murder-suicide of a brother and his special needs sister. All of these incredible acts have taken place in towns just too close to comfort.

People mourn the death of a pedophile superstar more than they do the loss of a once safe and beautiful city. I'm disgusted and heartbroken.

I had some time to sit around yesterday morning before I headed into work. I was looking through channels when I caught sight of The View. I haven't watched The View since I was attending school at Mansfield. I'm not especially attached to The View and I'm not especially attached to Anne Hathaway, whom just so happened to be their guest yesterday. I never really gave Anne Hathaway much credit as an actress because she always struck me as one of those Disney babies. I feel like she never had the chance to show what a diverse actress she has the potential to be until I saw her in "Rachel Getting Married." Her character was a complete contrast to anything else I've seen her do. Anyway, when she was on The View chatting with the other ladies, she happened to mention some of her upcoming endeavors. These endeavors ranged from Shakespeare in the park to playing Judy Garland in a film that is expected to go to theaters sometime down the line. I love Judy Garland and I suppose that is what started this whole rant.

Aside from that jazz, I'm doing well. I found a new place to park in Harrisburg so I don't get anymore parking tickets. It's a bit of a hike, but the walk is so beautiful. I even discovered a new cafe, antique marketplace and an Italian bistro where they give away freshly made bread. This particular section of town also hosts a lot of really old and beautiful row houses. I would very much like to live there one day if I can manage to. I'll have to keep checking for vacancy. It's very seldom that I find somewhere close to home that I'm in love with. I wouldn't mind spending a few years there on Verbeke street. I feel like it suits me.

Another thing I love about that particular street is that there are always people sitting outside on their stoops smoking their cigarettes. Take yesterday, for example. It was one of those stormy days where everything seemed to be tinted in blue. It wasn't raining yet, but you could smell it and see the clouds moving around inside all of that blue. I was on my lunch break and I decided to walk back to my car just to keep myself preoccupied. I leaned against the back of my station wagon with a book and cigarette in hand. After so long I put my book down and I noticed all of the other people around. There was a woman leaning in her doorway looking at me  with her arms crossed. She didn't look at me in a menacing way; it more so just merely acknowledging that we were both taking a break and enjoying the breeze together. There were other people on the street too that seemed to have no agenda other than to lean against the brick of their houses and finish their cigarettes. I guess it just struck me as one of those interesting human moments where we were all doing the same thing at the same time, taking in the same blue day and probably thinking about the same kind of thing.

Nothing else is really going on just now. It's Friday and I have discovered that, what with the way I'm living now, that I don't really anticipate the arrival of the weekend anymore. My nights always consist of staying up late and suffering through work the next day. It always feels like the weekend, which is a good thing I guess. I think tonight we're just going to play cards like always and walk down to the river again at night. Last time we went to a dock and sat in someones boat for about an hour. Karina had to keep tugging at the line connected to the dock to keep us from drifting too far away. I haven't laughed that hard in a good while.

Hopefully we will get up to something good.

Most afternoons I sit watching Clean House with Karina. We pass back and forth a bottle usually and laugh at all of the silly people who reside in America. Clean House is this show on the style network with a sassy host. The host goes into homes where people hoard too much shit to even live comfortably in their own homes. The host, in her sassy ways, visits these people and convinces them to sell most of their shit in a yard sale. The money from the sale goes towards remodeling their home and making it presentable, to say the least. It's a funny concept for a show, I suppose; people with too much shit and they love it all.

We watch Jerry Springer and Maury too, but those two we all know well enough what they are about. It's nice to relax and spend the afternoons this way. Although, on the other side of things, I think we're getting slightly less intelligent with ever episode that we view.

There really isn't much else that is new in my life. Austin, Pat and Ryan are staying with me this weekend because they couldn't find a show in Pennsylvania again. I'm excited to spend the weekend with them and show them around New Cumberland. I feel that New Cumberland is most charming in the summer, simply because of the good late night walks and star gazing on the roof. Despite their visit, that seems to be about the only I'm looking forward to as of now.

I'll try to remind myself to be better about updating. Maybe when I become a roller derby announcer my life will take a more interesting turn instead of getting drunk in the afternoons with my best friend.

        "... Creation seems to come out of imperfection.
              It seems to come out of a striving and a frustration.
              And this is where I think language came from.
              I mean, it came from our desire to transcend our isolation...
              and have some sort of connection with one another.
              And it had to be easy when it was just simple survival.
              Like, you know, "water." We came up with a sound for that.
              Or, "Saber-toothed tiger right behind you." We came up with a sound for that.
              But when it gets really interesting, I think,
              is when we use that same system of symbols to communicate...
              all the abstract and intangible things that we're experiencing.
              What is, like, frustration? Or what is anger or love?
              When I say "love,"
              the sound comes out of my mouth...
              and it hits the other person's ear,
              travels through this Byzantine conduit in their brain,
              you know, through their memories of love or lack of love,
              and they register what I'm saying and say yes, they understand.
              But how do I know they understand? Because words are inert.
              They're just symbols. They're dead, you know?
              And so much of our experience is intangible.
              So much of what we perceive cannot be expressed. It's unspeakable.
              And yet, you know, when we communicate with one another,
              and we--
              we feel that we have connected,
              and we think that we're understood,
              I think we have a feeling of almost spiritual communion.
              And that feeling might be transient, but I think it's what we live for..."

I haven't done an "art blog" in a good while. What better way to reintroduce my fleeting obsessions than with robots? I sure do love them.

here
you see this
hand

here you see this
sky
this
bridge

hear this
sound

the agony of the
elephant

the nightmare of the
midget

while
caged parrots
sit in a
flourish of
color

while pieces of
people
fall over the
edge
like pebbles
like
rocks

madhouses screaming in
pain

as the royalty of the
world is
photographed
say
on horseback
or
say
watching a procession
in their honor

as the junkies junk
as the alkies drink
as the whores whore
as the killers kill

the albatross blinks its
eyes

the weather stays
mostly
the same.

c.b.

We weren't bothered by the seemingly early hour of the evening. We bought a fifth of whiskey and stayed up until 6 a.m. watching movies that were released exclusively in the Sundance Film circuit. Nate was there and we talked about the worthwhile flea markets in the surrounding area.

We were all still drunk when we awoke this morning to the self-timer on the coffeepot. We arose with great effort and made our way to the kitchen to be entertained by the last thin line of coffee streaming into the pot. We also made bagels, but we forgot to eat them on account of still being drunk.

We listened to Jeffrey Lewis and The Brian Jonestown Massacre while we got ready. We also heard Nate mumble in his sleep.

We parted ways and went to work after that. I slept in my car during my lunch break and I was surprised that my headache subsided almost effortlessly.

There is some normalcy to these late nights and early mornings.
I'll see you on the roof again tonight, dear friends.

This past weekend was one of the best ways I ever recall welcoming the new warm wind.

Friday night Angie and Karina came over to drink some beer and watch a silly movie. We talked about Providence and Arizona and Holland and other places that you miss when you have to return back to a life you are bored with.

Saturday I awoke early to spend the day with Angie. We drove up to Newport with the windows down and basked in the first good bit of sunlight we had felt on our fair skin in months. We went to visit her Aunts home that is surrounded by gardens and fence posts that have been overtaken by ivy. I really enjoy spending time with Aunt Michelle because she is an artist. She is the woman in the thrift store that will salvage a child-sized guitar so that she may take it home and paint it however she chooses. She gardens so much that I even happened to see one of her finished guitars used as a flower pot. There were small green stems blooming from the sound hole. It was beautiful.

We only stayed long enough to dirty our knees in the garden. We dug up broccoli for supper that night and we didn't even care to wash our hands before we left. We were so content smelling like wind and mud and warmth. Afterward we hiked up a steep trail to discover a grass clearing. Angie's Mother had bought the land ages ago and I think she always desired moving up there now that her girls aren't as young. We sat down on a tree trunk that had fallen over, maybe in a storm, and rested a while and smoked. We let the stillness and peace of that place seep through our skin and release into our nerves. It was such a fine day.

Sunday I ended up calling Jamie because I missed her. Jamie is my childhood friend that I just recently bumped into not too long ago. The last time I saw her was fifth grade. She had trouble at home and someone came and rescued her and took her away for a long time. I like seeing her now and I think that she likes seeing me too. You have to keep the people from your childhood around. They are the only ones who know what fucked you up initially. There's comfort in that, I suppose.

Jamie and I also went for a drive. We got coffee and she even suggested that we take this old mountain view back road. She knew the name of passing flowers that lined people's driveways and we talked about books. We got lost after so long but it didn't matter. We would reach an intersection and turn whichever way we felt looked the nicest. Lately I feel like that people that I can actually sit down and converse with are few and far between. I'm happy to have her as a friend again, especially since she knows the names of writers and flowers.

We didn't do much after our drive was over but I was happy to have spent another day outdoors with someone I felt connected to. I was in fear of the arrival of spring, but now I find that I am embracing it. I never thought I would have so many good people in my life.

Much too much has happened.

The old prick who lives beneath us called the fuzz on us Saturday night. Six people climbed out the kitchen window and hid on the roof while the rest of us stayed and produced our identification with distaste. Nothing happened with the exception of a seemingly concise lecture and talk of how noise is not much appreciated at certain hours of the morning.

In the morning I awoke to discover a boy sleeping on our kitchen floor. I didn't know who he was, who he came with or how he even ended up in my house. Someone came to get him eventually. His friend told me that about two months ago the sleeping boy had come home from the war. I guess drinking himself silly and blacking out  is the way he has taught himself to cope with his PTS condition. In that moment I didn't know what feeling to identify with: complete and utter heartbreak for him and the life he now has to lead or rage that our country damages people and finds them dispensable.

"It's fucked what they do to people and get away with, you know?"
"Yes. I know."

I helped put the sleeping boys shoes back on while I watched his friend coax him back to consciousness. I realized that this whole scene must be familiar to him now. I don't think I will forget that morning for a good while.

Despite the unwanted arrival of the fuzz, the weekend still had its high points. Jeff and Kristi stayed with us all weekend and we even got to spend Easter together. There are few things more adorable than four grown twenty-something year olds sitting cross legged around a unstable coffee table eating chocolate eggs and watching The Food Network.

If this is what you call dysfunctional, I will continue to welcome it and embrace it.

Also, over the weekend it was decided that Karina will be living with us. I really can't express how happy I am at the idea of it all. I like her soul much more now.

I predict dueling typewriters in the early morning and time-lines made of yarn and polaroids lining our ceiling.

I was riding back home with Dave last night when he ran over one of those orange construction cones. I suppose you could refer to the act as intentional. Anyway, that cone now resides in our living room. I think our decor is finally complete thanks to this most recent addition of white-trash-construction-work interior design. What can I say? It suits the motif of our entire apartment perfectly.

There isn't much else happening just now that requires updating with the exception that I'm highly anticipating the festivities of tomorrow evening. It will just be more running with scissors bullshit. These days it seems that it is my mantra.

I fear I've lost my depth.

My visit to Mansfield was perfectly fine.

I had the most satisfying piece of gum, courtesy of Michelle, and I also had the best night's sleep, courtesy of Connie's semi-dilapidated "clam" futon.

I sincerely feel that these instances are noteworthy.

They say before you check yourself into rehab that you first have to "reach your bottom."

This amuses me. Most medical practices are concerned in helping their clients steer clear from any sort of bottom. I suppose bottoms are somewhat different in terms of spiritual cleansing. Again, this sort of amuses me to a degree.

Aside from that, I'm working on Lawrence's accounts of his Mother's life and listening to jazz dialect. I've come to find that the spontaneity of the music mimics the complete fucking mess that is my writing. I have to go to an office store at some point tonight to get a new ribbon for my typewriter. I suppose that could be taken as some sort of excitement or milestone in terms of my ownership of a typewriter.

A little while back Dave landed a part time job at this highly reputable vintage clothing / piercing parlor entitled "Checkered Past."  The store is actually located so close to our building that we can see the neon sign from our bedroom windows and fire escape. With that being said, when I'm at a loss for anything to do I typically venture over the store and have fun with Dave and the other employees. The best part of this arrangement is that everyone at the store is so lovely that my visitations are never considered to be of a nuisance to anyone. Also, given the fact of just how close we are to the store, the staff of Checkered Past can usually be found dwelling in our small living room after works hours almost every evening. I very much enjoy these regular nights in with such spontaneous, personable, knowledgeable, hilarious and welcoming individuals.

As it happens, tonight we are going as a group to watch Krista (the piercing apprentice) act as Lady Capulet at this old time dinner theater. We are going to drink port wine and dress up and it is going to be glorious.

Other glorious things to make note of:

1.) I am getting a free piercing this week. Of what part of my face or ear I am entirely unsure.

2.) This upcoming weekend I am venturing up to Mansfield to visit for some ice cream on a park bench in good company.

3.) My interviews with Lawrence are going very well. Each interview we get a little more in depth about his Mother's life. I feel comfortable saying that his Mother is a very admirable woman and I would like to think that his family will be very pleased with the collection of stories that Lawrence has chosen to dictate. This whole circumstance makes me wish that I could always write memoirs this way.

4.) With summer around the corner, Dave has been talking to me a lot lately about continuing to live together after our lease has expired. Although our life is pure insanity and  it seems that all moral value has been forgotten at times, I don't think I'm ready to abandon this running with scissors lifestyle that I have adopted with him. Not for a while.

5.) I anticipated that I would receive about six-hundred dollars or so with the arrival of my income taxes. Turns out, there was a mistake on my forms and I actually got back over one thousand dollars. It most certainly feels like I've been given a fresh start and I'm happy that I've had the fortunate opportunity to look debt square in the eye and say "fuck off." Fancy that.

I spent my Friday evening in Anne's home watching Changeling and Annie Hall (two excellent cinematic gems) while drinking iced tea. The wind was particularly violent that night and I distinctly remember not being phased by it at all because I felt so incredibly safe in her home. We talked for so long about anything and everything. I felt like it was one of the first times I had really talked to anyone in months.

I first met Anne Stone while working in Newport. When I first began working at the cafe it seemed that she would always make an appearance in the morning. We would talk shortly about the odds and ends of things while she waited patiently for her order to be prepared. The thing that distinguished Anne from other costumers was that I never felt as if I was engaging in small talk with her. I think of small talk as conversing with someone who does not give a fuck about what you are saying. Half the time people don't even make eye contact with you during small talk. They say their two cents about the weather or make some not so clever comment about their dissatisfaction with the work day and that concludes the whole riveting small talk experience.

Another thing that I noticed about Anne was that she was never hurried by her schedule. Typically when she would come in she would say that she was just heading off to work. She would say this, but she would still stay a substantial amount of time just to talk to me about whatever suited our current mood or interest. This is not to say that Anne was one to lose track of time either. Everything about Anne was calming.  I liked Anne straight away because everyone knew she was one of the few who had her priorities exactly as they should be. She took the time to connect with people and set her errands aside just to offer her undivided attention.

I don't think there has ever been anyone in my life who has conveyed so much compassion, charm and poise as Anne Stone. I wish that I was not so afraid of loving her or thinking of her as the mother I could only hope to have. I guess I still mourn the wreckage of everything that was ruined before when I put faith in others to compose the family that I won't ever have.




Currently reading: Beautiful Losers
Currently hating: American ignorance and the fact that the car has become our wheelchair
Currently loving: Dave, Rob, Jeff, Troy and Eli
Currently eating: Hummus and carrots