The Ground That You Walk On.

Mama Ocean said "Open your eyes a little bit wider." Papa Moon said "Raise your head a little bit higher." But Auntie Breeze said "You cannot ignore me, for I am the wind of change." She smelled sweeter than ever tonight, which lets me know that Mother Earth is speaking to me. Ears and eyes wide open, for I am merely an inhabitant of your terrain.

There's No Such Thing as Time.

What words do I speak? Those of someone who lives by the second. I see beauty in sadness. I see sadness in beauty. I see a second in eternity as I see an eternity in a second. Rain is about to begin falling in California, and I'm gonna stand in it and let it fall on my head. I am no more a dude on the sidewalk than a bug in the dirt. Everything is relative.

Grenade

Give me a mic and a crowd. I got something to say and I have some energy to deliver... whether you want to hear it or not.

Twist and Go

I'm a cognizant trainwreck. I have been for over a decade. I know who I am. I know who you are. I KNOW HOW THE WORLD WORKS. But I focus on that. I focus on you. The concept of self was lost long ago. It's lost now. I know who I am, I know what I want and where I want to go. But yet I want to erase every word. Don't worry about me. Worry about you. Sweep it under the rug, you'll figure it out.

Why do I feel the need to broadcast this to the world? Because I don't listen when I'm saying it to myself. I'm fucking 28 years old. It's a trip to have a handle on everything in the world but yourself. I say "as long as I have everything else around me figured out, I'll be okay." But I'm not. And I can't sweep it under the rug anymore. I'm faced with the biggest mountain I've ever had to climb. I know that I want to climb it and I know that I can, I just have to make the first step.

It is the most difficult thing in the world to admit to yourself first that change is necessary. It's even more difficult to admit that to others, because you don't want to relegate your position. You want to say "I GOT THIS," but you can't carry the weight of the world forever. For a long time, I believed that I could. I still believe that I can. But I leave no time for myself. It's no one's fault but my own. I say "Fuck it, I got it." In life, is there really any other choice? I don't believe so.

I go ten kinds of crazy when someone tells me that I don't care about them. If only they knew that all of my care is outwards. It is sincere, it is a fact of science and nature. It cannot be broken. It's like someone telling you "Hey. The sky is red." You say "No, look up, IT'S BLUE!" "Nope, it's red." Without looking. So I walk away without words.

I'm stuck in this spot. I have the key in the ignition. All I gotta do is twist and go. Can I do that? Yes I can. And yes, I will. As I've said a billion times before, get in and ride with me or get the fuck out of the way. Nobody has chosen the latter and I feel lucky for that. But they and I are waiting for me to twist and go. I can't be afraid to drive those miles. Here I go.

This Can't Possibly Be True.

A million times I've considered painting the walls with my brains, because sometimes it just makes perfect sense. I have a gun and I have bullets. I've even held it to my head once or twice. But I could never do that. I never *would* do that. I have too much life left to live.

A friend of mine chose to end her own life yesterday. I never even got to meet her. We were supposed to hang out in a couple weeks. This is fucking bullshit.

I've lost more people to suicide than any other cause. What really twists my mind the most is knowing how I have felt when I was ready to let go, yet I realized that I have so much to live for, and that there are so many people who care. I simply cannot fathom how any person could overlook that.

You know Adrienne, we were supposed to be meeting up in a few weeks when I come back to Detroit. We talked about how much fun we were going to have, have a few drinks, and plenty of laughs. You didn't even wait for that to happen. There's a part of me that refuses to believe that you won't be there when I come back, even though I know that I'm wrong. I'm gonna stare at that empty bar stool and keep my eye on the door, waiting for you to arrive. I'll even have a cold one and a shot waiting for you. It'll be there, just meet me.

Chaz, Tom, Almost Matt. Fuck you guys. You were all too strong for that shit. In my darkest moment I'm totally fucking gone, but I always find a good enough reason to live. Why couldn't you? I always said that before I would be prepared to die, I'd sooner move to the other side of the planet. That's kinda why I ended up on the other side of the country. Doing so has allowed me the opportunity to see things from a distant perspective, and I'm glad that I did.

But rather, you didn't have the guts. You didn't have the belief that there could be somebody, just ONE person out there that could identify with your pain and make you feel if only for a moment that you weren't alone. I could have done that for you. But you didn't even call me. Fuck you. You should have at least called me. You knew that if you called me that I would convince you to believe that shit sucks sometimes, but you're awesome and could muscle through it anyway. You didn't even give me the chance to do that.

I don't know what else to say, but I'm torn apart right now. The people who appear to be the most stable are often the ones who need the most help. Keep your eyes peeled, friends, and open your heart and your mouth when you see a person in need. You could be the difference between talking to someone on the phone or in a fucking casket.

Personal Discretion is Advised

The following blog has been rated R for adult language, adult content, nudity, substance abuse, audacity, tenacity, crassness, reality checks, and blatant honesty.

Please remove the children from the room.

I got pulled over today on my way home from work. The officer was respectful to start, as I always am to an officer of the law, provided the respect is mutual. He asked me if I had any weapons in the car.

"I have a folding pocket knife clipped to my right pants pocket. I should mention though, that I don't carry it for use as a weapon. I carry it for use as a tool... not a weapon."

Let me mention that I had a bad day, and the only way to remedy a bad day is to force laughs. To force a laugh with a cop is sheer recklessness, but  my "Fuck It" face was already on.

"Are there any other weapons in the vehicle?"

"Yes sir."

[officer grips his holstered pistol, awareness heightened]

"What kind of weapon do you have?"

"I can't tell you that sir."

"Where is your weapon?"

"It's in my pants."

"Step out of the vehicle, please."

I assured the officer that I have respect for lawmen and that I have no ill will. I made sure that he saw my hands at all times and that my movements were deliberate and slow, just to make him feel comfortable.

"I'd like you to SLOWLY and KINDLY remove your weapon and surrender it to me."

"I can't."

"You won't?"

"No, I CAN'T."


This made him nervous and unbutton his gun holster. He immediately doubted the trust that I had given him from the start.

"WHERE IS YOUR WEAPON?!"

"I told you sir, it's in my pants."

He withdraws his firearm and points it at my heart.

"Hand it over."

Traffic begins to slow on the highway, as commuters see a state trooper pointing a loaded gun at a guy with his hands in the air.

"I Can't, Sir!!!"

"WHY NOT?!"

"BECAUSE IT'S ATTACHED TO MY CROTCH. I assure you sir, I've used it many times before, I fully intend to use it again, but I ASSURE YOU that I will NOT use it on you. You're not my type."

He pauses. Ponders. Lowers his weapon. Looks down for a moment. Looks back to me to see the shit-eating grin on my face. His facial expression then matched mine.

"You fuckin' with me, boy?"

"The whole time, officer."

And then I bought him a beer.

I turned a bad day into a good day through the strength of laughter.