holding on to the phone, holding on to this glass

the overwhelming sense of joy and re-dedication to good will are thick this time of year, and i suppose that's really a good thing.

and to most people that "thick" is in the very best sense.

to most people, it's the warm and comforting feeling they look back on fondly and remember from their childhood, that they admired in old black & white movies while sipping hot cocoa by the fire.

but, you see, i'm sort of the odd man out.

to me, it's thick enough to choke on.

and that's how i've found myself feeling these past few weeks.

while there are many things weighing heavily on my mind and spirit of late anyway and i could and, perhaps, should take said concerns and circumstances into account before generalizing, i stand by that feeling, that this holiday season has been particularly hard to enjoy.

one thing i've always found dishearteningly fake and annoyingly indulgent is the examination of every little thing in our lives, the notion that everything is connected and the thought that, should everything truly be connected and due, in any amount or relevance, to a greater plan or being, that it's somehow interesting to put on microscopes for glasses and read between the lines.

(a couple things should be noted here. regardless of how that last statement may have sounded, i do have strong christian faith and do, in fact, believe that there is a greater agenda for the general order of things.)

it's not that you're indulgent or that i find you disheartening if you believe in a higher purpose or interconnection, the sort of string-theory binding all of us as cohabitants on this strangely familiar world. it's that i find it indulgent to believe that the greatest purpose and absolute paramount agenda is for us all to be happy. it's indulging in the end result without putting in the work to get there.

and when i look around, honestly, that's just what i see these days.

i see people caring more about getting for themselves or asking others for the newest, most expensive jeans than replacing the holy, worn ones of someone less fortunate just a few miles down the road.

i see the families crowding the big-box stores and feeling entitled, owed that absolute lowest price and throwing tantrums when they're out or fighting over the last of any specific deal, of which, fiscally speaking, there are far too many.

i see the lifted, mud-flap-carrying trucks parked in handicap spots without placards and the drivers laughing it off as they key their alarm and head inside.

i look around this time of year and, quite simply, lose a little bit of faith in humanity.

and that's a pretty lonely stance to take, but it's mine.

you see, i'm not the nicest or best person and, truly, not even close. it's not that i'm any better or worse, just different. and it's those differences that make it hard for me this time of year and always have.

i find that i have no admiration for those who do good this time of year and let the remaining days and weeks and months slide, for i was raised to do good and be right and good and true in every step in the long walk of my life, to put others before myself every day, not just a select few each year.

it is with this closest of examinations that i have found within myself, perhaps, the greatest disconnect, that which has only grown over the years.

maybe it's me.

maybe it's my own unrealistic expectations and ideals that are suffocating me on the crowded city streets and in the flooded shopping lanes and lines.

and holding myself most accountable, judging myself by the absolute strictest rules, doesn't make it any better. even if i am my own harshest critic and strive every day to be the best i can be, i'll never be any better than those in which i have found disdain, disgust and distrust for breaking those very same rules i choose not to.

perhaps, casting my eyes upon you and yours is really, in the end, shining the most light on me.

for all of the attention i've paid this holiday season to the negativity and disappointing behavior all around, it seems i've missed some of the most beautiful, most self-less, most endearing moments of humanity in plain sight.

while focusing on the inconsiderate bastard parked in that handicap spot, perhaps i missed the college kids singing carols outside the store to raise money for a local charity.

while focusing on the crowds rushing by in shopping lanes and bumping me with their carts, however justified i may in fact be for getting put off by someone who looks and/or smells as if they haven't showered in months running their cart over my foot, perhaps i missed the little boy riding on his father's shoulders, excited to pick out that special gift for his mother.

while focusing on the fake small-talk we all are unfortunately subjected to, perhaps i've missed the sincerity in that person honestly concerned and putting their best efforts into caring for those around them.

i'm a hard person to reach when i've got my mask on, as those who know me well will agree, but it's because of one the rare people who somehow sees past it that i'm typing these words and, most importantly, reminding myself of this lesson. while words are just that and all that matters is whether they hold true and remain in sight, this realization in itself has not been taken lightly, nor will i ever forget it. for that, i thank you.

it's hard admitting you're wrong sometimes. but so much harder still to actually correct those wrongs. for now, i can only try.

i often wonder who set out these rules, who wrote the words for all the parts we used to play. and perhaps the concepts are simple enough to understand, but even the smartest of us are dumb sometimes.

"they make it look so easy, connecting to another human being. it's like no one ever told them it's the hardest thing in the world." and that's just how i've always felt.

but maybe, and perhaps hopefully, i'm wrong.

for lack of a proper title

There’s something to be said for providence.

Not the city or term in reference to wine and vintner authenticity, though the second definition is closer to my point.

But in the sense of the true value of something in reference to its original, and original meaning rightful, place as compared to the relative value of the same thing in other places or circumstances.

However simpler or greater the logistical benefits or losses elsewhere, the value of something is always greater in its rightful, fated place.

Since coming into the knowledge of this concept, I’ve made it my point to find the providence in my own life.

So much easier said than done.

Should I stay or should I go? Should I jump the gun and follow the paycheck or chase the dream and pay my dues?

These are the questions I’ve spent weeks asking myself. Answers plenty, but still I found myself unsure.

Who knew what would happen next?

It was another sunny afternoon and I was just walking to the sound of my favorite tune. Tomorrow never knows what it doesn’t know too soon.

Now I need a little time to wake up.

The providence, it seems, is to get back in touch with my roots before planting any of my own, get back to knowing myself and where I’ve come from before I run too fast, too far to remember. The providence in my life is in finally accepting the role I was born to play, if only characteristically for now.

So this one’s for you. Though we weren’t nearly as close as we could have or maybe should have been, you were always connected through connection. I came from her, she came from you.

Connection by connection.

Providence sighted, I’m on my way.

I’ll chase after my dreams and wherever I land, I know I’ll meet you again someday, somewhere along the way.

For now, rest in peace.

one last go

i'm closing my eyes and picturing what it is i really am picturing at this point, nothing.

i can stare into the deep void of apparently empty space filling the shadows inside my mind and almost disregard the truth, that there's just so much more to it.

and that's something i've always found most fascinating about the universe we've somehow come along in. the black void we see as empty space is actually anything but.

it's the dark matter we just can't see with our eyes.

the past few weeks have found me depressed in ways i can't describe but not because i haven't tried. though, perhaps i was trying in all the wrong ways.

i've spent considerable effort throwing off the possible, ignoring the potential, dismissing the predetermined. i've spent considerable effort focusing on the very cold, hard logistics of it all, accepting the reality that has become my life, somehow.

i can close my eyes and feel the webs spinning all around me. i can close my eyes and bask in the glow of the plans and hopes and dreams you've all had and tried to live through me. i can close my eyes and picture myself succeeding and then just do it.

but the potential, the possible, the predetermined, it's all every bit the charade as any apparent void i choose to accept instead.

there was a fork in the road and i took the other way.

who knows how long ago it happened or how or why. the perfect storm of circumstance came and left without us ever hearing the bang. what's left is this.

one last go.

i'm exhausted.

but, for now, i'm alive. i'm awake. and i'm on the move.

so throw your ears to the wall and listen for that shred of hope. back me and i'll give it one last go.

trust in me and i'll finish the fight.

just know it's not for me, but you.

i'll go until i stop.

i'll do it for you.

i'll do it on fumes.

friendship, forged through broken bones and tragedy

There was this moment when we first met and I can’t let it go. I just can’t let go. You’re standing there and so am I. We’re two people enjoying this perfect imperfect moment together but in completely different worlds. You’re young and beautiful and have this future ahead of you and I’m this jaded, lost soul adrift in a storm at sea and longing for shore. I’m floating but barely and the waves keep rushing over me and this endless barrage of wind and water and debris is crashing into me, crushing but keeping me alive somehow. This endless barrage of wind and water and debris that I see is nothing more than the circumstances surrounding me, all caused by bad decisions and provoked through months and years of insecurities and indiscretions and weakness. Then there’s this moment when I look up and the sun comes out with a smile on your face. And I just know I’m safe. But in the way that reminds me with each second that it could all fade at any second, the clouds come back, the wind picks up, the waves crash with the tide that tries to drown me. And I’m standing there waiting but tomorrow never comes. I’m just rescued. But I can’t help looking back. Once you’re in that storm, there’s no going back. You’re affected. And you effect. From that point, you spend the rest of your life pulling and pushing, fighting and hiding, living and dying. With every second, with each breath, you lose more and more of yourself. Before long, there isn’t much left. You’re alive and safe and have this wonderful future ahead but can’t get past the past and all the pain you’ve felt. You’re alive and safe but your own weaknesses prevent you from living. You’ve been saved but you’re still dying. And this is how it goes. It’s mostly all the same from that point forward. So how do you move on from that? Once you’ve been to the show, you’ve seen the strings. And it only gets harder to enjoy yourself over time. But not for lack of enthuse. But because you’re alone. And you know you are. You’ve felt that utter lack of completion, that end without anything right or good or true. And you just know you’re alone in that endless fucking ocean and lost in that storm. You know when leaves fall, if it means anything, it just means you’re dead. You know when snow falls it means your feet just flew over your head. It’s just Jamestown, 94-West and a forty hour train back to Penn. I can’t pretend I don’t feel the break but I feel the bend. I can’t fucking believe this joke has gotten out of hand. Get us to the hospital. So we can spill and share these quiet things that no one ever knows. There’s no set back that can set me back. The punch is wearing thin. So pull the pin and throw it back.

8.13.10

We saw the western coast. I saw the hospital and nursed the shoreline like a wound. The reports of lovers’ trysts were neither clear or descript. We kept it safe and slow. They’re the quiet things that no one ever knows. So keep the blood in your head and keep your feet on the ground. If today’s the day it gets tired then today’s the day we drop out. I gave up my body and bed all for an empty hotel. I’m just wasting words on lower cases and capitals. I contemplate the day we wed. Your friends are boring me to death and your veil is ruined in the rain. By then it’s you I could do without because there’s just nothing new to talk about. Even though our kids are blessed, their parents let them shoulder all the blame. So keep the blood in your head and keep your feet on the ground. If today’s the day it gets tired then today’s the gay we drop out. I gave up my body and bed all for an empty hotel. I’m just wasting words on lower cases and capitals. These are the quiet things that no one ever knows.

aces in their places

stress and pressure, they're funny things.

few people understand it the way a quarterback does.

let me explain.

two examples of this point are both quarterbacks in the nfl but they couldn't be more different. tom brady is a three-time superbowl champion and potentially the best quarterback in nfl history. and brodie croyle? he's with a kansas city chiefs backing up the former back-up for tom brady.

tom brady was drafted out of the university of michigan in the sixth round of the 2000 draft, 199th overall. coming out of college, he was the fourth-string quarterback for the new england patriots behind drew bledsoe and two other names you've never heard of. by the end of his rookie season, he only took three snaps under center and only completed one pass. but he earned the second-string spot. in his second year, two games into the season, bledsoe goes down hard with what gets discovered to be a collapsed lung and massive internal bleeding. brady steps in. and wins 11 of 14 games he starts that year. in his first playoff game, he throws 312 yards and overcomes a 10 point deficit in the 4th to win the game in overtime. he won the superbowl that year and was mvp, mostly due to a final drive to win the game without any timeouts left and roughly 60 yards in just about a minute of playing time. what happened throughout his career after that game is pretty common knowledge. the two additional superbowl wins, countless records shattered, supermodel wife, it's all there and you've heard it. but that final drive back in 2001 is what we're going to look at.

brodie croyle went to the university of alabama and was drafted in 2006 in the third round, 85th overall. coming out of college, he had some great expectations and loads of potential. in his senior year, he set the record for yards passing at alabama, won the cotton bowl and was co-mvp, and had one hell of a rocket for an arm. his rookie year in the nfl didn't have much playing time or action but he became the starter in his second year after damon huard went down. not much happened that year with the kansas city chiefs, in terms of winning. but the world learned a lot about brodie croyle in a similar situation to the one tom brady was in just six years before. no one expected croyle to do much with the fairly weak group around him but he had the pieces in place to at least put up some points. larry johnson in the backfield, a decent offensive line, dwayne bowe and sammie parker running receiver routes. he had some options. but in the second preseason game that year, he took two steps forward only to take three steps back minutes later.

tom brady had some options in the final drive of his first superbowl. he could run out the clock and put the game in the hands of his defensive teammates, who had held the "greatest show on turf" superbowl champion st. louis rams to only 17 points. he went the other way. before running out to the field, he went to his coach and said something great, "i want the ball. let's end this." in what could have been the first superbowl to go to overtime, one player decided to go all-in and win, not just play to not lose. the rest is history.

in brodie croyle's second year, in the second preseason game, he led the chiefs down the field with an impressive drive that led to a pretty epic touchdown pass. he had been competing with damon huard for the starting position all offseason and coach herm edwards challenged them both to "take the position" if they wanted it. this drive, croyle later said, was his response to his coach. but what happened next was key. on the following drive, with a chance to score and put the game away for a win, croyle dropped back from center. the same routes as before, dwayne bowe was wide open for the first down. even sammie parker was in coverage but ably open. croyle gets a little pressure as the pocket starts to collapse and rolls out to his left, somehow breaking a tackle and buying a couple extra seconds to scan the field. he rolls to his left and does a full 360 spin. at this point, sammie parker is open with the full field ahead of him empty and the endzone in sight. dwayne bowe has broken coverage and is easily a strong "checkdown" pass away for a first down. croyle has options and he's just broken two tackles and rolled out in the way you would have seen steve young do it years before. his next move? an impulsive throw immediately once out of the pocket that got intercepted. the game was over after an easy chip-shot field goal. he won and lost the game that day and on consecutive drives.

stress is a funny thing and few people understand it in the way quarterback does.

a cluster of three-hundred pound animals chasing you down, salivating at the chance to rip you apart, it's just something you don't get in the rest of the world.

tom brady and brodie croyle both saw it in those games. one performed. the other didn't.

it's the difference between running for your life, just dumping the ball off at the first opportunity and dropping back to a standstill, planting your feet, scanning the field, stepping into a pass, willing the ball where it needs to go. it's the difference between keeping your hand steady and letting it shake.

life is all about pressure, i think. it's all about how you handle it.

and i realized the other night, maybe for the first time, i'm getting older. and faster than i ever thought i would.

i'm at the point in my life where you start crossing things off the list, realizing there are things you'll just never get to do, men you'll just never get to become.

but i've got options.

and i just don't shake.

10 days later...which became 17...

there's a man i'll never get to know.

the man i was growing up to be.

he's the kind of guy you want to be around because he's just right.

even when he's wrong.

he's got the whole world ahead of him and all the opportunity in the world.

he's got the ambition to know what he wants and the drive to get there.

but he's also got the integrity to keep finding himself along the way.

i close my eyes and see him sometimes, though not as often as i used to. his absence is unbearable.

it makes me wonder what happens to all those hopes and dreams and ideals we find so easy to hold when we're still new and green.

i close and open my eyes and i'm there.

in a world where "jaded" is a thing of the past, we're all so much "happier."

billy's president. in fact, so is tommy. and mike. and jillian. there are three hundred twenty thousand presidents of the united states. the division of powers would be enough to choke on but the forty eight thousand constitutional lawyers and sixteen thousand executive branch secretaries and coordinators have it all under control.

we don't have to worry about health care because no one ever gets sick anymore. all our best scientists and doctors stopped working on the cures for hair loss and impotence and figured out the real shit. cancer's unheard of, unless you sign the "i'm a fucking idiot waiver" and choose to smoke. then you're fucked. and the baby-booming of the third world countries now not having to deal with disease is providing for a significant increase in a return to physical labor and manufacturing. but green, of course. always.

our schools and jails and welfare programs all realized that to reduce crime they'd have to work together in the same direction. schools have more community outreach for kids and get them more involved than ever before. jails teach inmates new skills and educate them at least through their GED, so they've got workplace skills and prospects. and welfare is limited and conditional. but it's all irrelevant now that there are only twenty two convicts left in the world, and only because they're stupid enough to steal cars in an age where alarms and gps are standard. recidivism is a bitch for those poor grand theft auto kids. crime is so low, in fact, that there's an emerging trend in which all locksmiths and lock manufacturers are getting laid off. it's troubling and something the thirty four thousand labor lawyers currently practicing will have to look into.

wal-mart went out of business two years ago and none of us noticed. with the global push for farmers markets and small business, the big chains are a thing of the past. farmers in nebraska earn as fair a living as lobstermen in maine. it's all subsidized and honest, fair trade.

the world's just so much better.

and we're all so much happier.

but not really.

i close my eyes and i miss the smog of la. it made me appreciate the beauty of this place.

i close my eyes and i miss the disgusting, fat-providing fast food on every street corner. it made me appreciate the independent cafes and creativity and ethics of great, rare restaurants.

i close my eyes and i miss the hilarity of impotence-pill commercials and hair loss creams. it made me appreciate how blessed i am to be young and healthy and virile.

i close my eyes and i miss the politics behind government. it made me appreciate the sometimes awkward, just kind of present balance between both sides of the aisle.

i close my eyes and i miss everything. the freedoms.

the freedom to rise. the freedom to fall.

the freedom to be right and good and true. the freedom to put yourself first and be right and good to and for you and what you want.

if everything's solved, what's left to fight for?

i open my eyes and i'm back in reality. i'm 24 years old. and i've got all the opportunity and promise ahead of me as i did when i was a kid. just a little less time to figure it out.

i'm alive and AWAKE and right. now.

and that's enough for me.

the suicide catcher

there's an article in this month's gq that profiles the yangtze river bridge in china and the high number of suicides committed by jumping from it each year.

it's in the thousands.

but then there's other number.

one.

one man.

the suicide catcher.

he stands and watches and waits.

when he sees someone about to take the leap, he pulls them back.

he brings them back to life.

he's not a cop. he's not employed by the city or state or even some local or global npo.

he's just a guy. and he's saved hundreds.

i promised myself i would make a difference this summer, if for no other reason than to show myself i still can.

i'm still trying to find my place and i know i will. but it might not be in the place you or i ever thought it would. i'm breaking down the doors and walls and tearing up every boundary i've ever set for myself.

i'm going to do this and i'm going it alone.

i'm on fire.

sunshine

"it takes eight minutes for light to travel from the sun to the earth.

all you have to do is look out for a little extra brightness in the sky. if you wake up one morning and it's a particularly beautiful day, you'll know we made it."

last night, out of nowhere, the clouds came in. the wind blew fast and angry. the rain started and never stopped. le déluge.

this morning, i was convinced it would be a shitty day. the clouds were hanging out to taunt us as we woke. the ground was soaked with water and mud and debris. the sun was just gone.

then it changed.

ten minutes ago, the breeze warms a bit, enough to notice and appreciate. the grass and trees green up and move, alive again. the sun comes out.

it's a tragic oversimplification to think of this as mere weather. i swear there's just so much more to it.

it's times like this that remind me of how lucky we all are. of how blessed i am. i'm alive. and you. and we get to enjoy it.

the thoughts sparked with conversations over tea and hot chocolate in the bay area with nareen and stephanie. thoughts and curious hypotheticals. if animals can think and know and love, can they then appreciate the beauty and wonder in the world that we see around us?

years later.

i'm in burlington.

it's not hypotheticals over coffee or tea anymore. i know it.

i look outside and i know it. you do when you see it.

in any part of the world, with any faith or culture, there's more to this morning than weather. it's more than a season.

you're walking down the street and the breeze picks up, just teases the hairs on your skin and cools your neck, beats against you in rhythm in step. the sun shines down and warms you in a way that feels like home.

there's more to this world than weather and seasons. there's more to it than the details we so often get wrapped up in. a tragic oversimplification.

the best parts of this world are in the subtle nuances, the insignificant things we don't care enough to notice.

take a walk. and open your eyes.

i'm alive. you're alive. and the world is around you, too.

there's just more to it.

absolution

how did i get here?

i realized today, only a bit ago, just how much my life has changed in the past year. i dig it.

i traded suits and ties for jeans and sambas.

i traded martinis and sushi for microbrews and subway.

midnight walks in the malibu sands and the california sun for lake champlain and random snowy nights in may.

smiles through teeth and an endless pretension for ugly and true and humble.

i traded the fast life in to slow it all down.

i dig it.

i never realized how different everything was until this afternoon. i see this young guy in a suit who reminds me of me and, for the first time, i don't miss it.

i don't need to have everyone tell me i'm successful and on the right path to know i am. the difference is so much more. i feel it.

and it makes no sense, trading in everything for nothing and on a whim. but it was so much easier, i think, because it was so much worse.

i didn't recognize the face i saw in the mirror. i hated my life and everything about the man i had become. i hated the city. i hated the people. i hated myself. i hit rock bottom.

i'll never forget what my father told me when i called him from a friend's couch on some random and otherwise entirely nondescript morning. "pick yourself up and i'll carry you."

the past year has been hard. i've met a lot of people and been in a lot of situations, some circumstantial, some deliberate, chosen. i've had a lot of reasons to keep looking back and tell myself to give in. just go home. go back.

for better, for worse, i stood my ground. i picked myself up. and maybe someone else did the heavy lifting from there. but i did it. i'm alive. and i choose.

i choose to live a better life.

i choose to put others and this world before myself. to keep humble and selfless.

i choose to love and just give in to it. i'm all in and in love and more committed than i've ever allowed myself to be.

i choose to lose myself in this novel, to keep writing until my fingers bleed from the tension and keep as honest and relative as i can. i will share this story and hope and love.

i choose to get back to being as ethical as possible in all things, small and big. in every decision. in every moment.

i choose to become my father's son again.

i choose to get back.

i'm home.

and i'm on fire.

watch me.

match book

you only get so many chances in and at life.

my heart is on her eight of nine.

but this is a good one.

kelley and i were outside all morning throwing the football around and working on some softball mechanics for the summer league we joined. and it. just. clicked.

that i'll never know or fully appreciate just how blessed i am.

"you can't go home again." we've all heard and bought into it.

but wolfe was wrong.

i'm here. and i swear i'm reborn every time i am.

we're at the top of the world, you and i

another evening in the borders cafe on church street in burlington.

another night of chai tea and chapter revisions and adds.

another night of helping my girlfriend with her senior portfolio.

but the last night.

it's strange, this feeling. i'm going to miss this time. our time.

i'm going to miss helping her find a place for commas.

i'm even going to miss removing "that" three or four times in single sentences.

at times, this has felt like a chore. and how could it?

no one else gets you like this.

no one else gets this side of you or me. no one else gets the twenty minute updates on my chapter revisions. no one else gets to tease you for poor grammar and navigate through the mess of strange punctuation or the lack thereof.

i'm going to miss this.

like all things, this shall pass. it's been real.

and a real reminder of many other things i miss and will always.

i miss my saturday movie and lunch with my father at the amc mercado. i never had the birds and bees talks or the afterschool specials on abc family. i had movies and discussions of characters and situations over bagel sandwiches and hot chocolate.

i miss football. even keeping it as simple as throwing with nareen in the park or trying to teach koosha how to spiral the ball. it never worked.

i miss going to the gym at 2am and spending hours talking about screenplays and sports and life, in general, with jay at the front desk and never working out. and then waking up early the next morning to go before work and make up for my distraction.

i miss the feeling of my bare feet against the coldest hardwood floor in new england while standing and playing guitar. just blasting the same four chords in punk schemes or scaling through bluesy leads. and watching woody on my bed and knowing he's just waiting for me to stop the noise and crawl under the covers so he can curl up against my feet.

i miss the tiny brook my father pulled over on the side of the road to teach me how to fish in and not catching a damn thing. but neither one of us did. we just stood there in the water and kept our fingers crossed.

i miss listening to jim cargill and his lectures about appreciating simple and fresh ingredients and food as an art that brings people together.

i miss not having any direction but every opportunity in front of me. it was med school then law school then congress then teaching then music then football then writing then law school again. all before i'd even thought of college. and you know what? i could have done any of it. and my parents would have supported any or none of those. and did. they believe(d) in me and always will.

i miss so much about the life i led before this book and before this city and before this step. but my life moves on and i couldn't be more blessed.

i'm a son to the greatest man and sweetest woman i've ever known.

i'm a boyfriend to the most beautiful girl i've ever seen and best friend i've had in years.

i'm so many things but none more than thankful.

we're at the top of the world, you and i. and i'm the luckiest man i see.

i'm on fire

there's this feeling i get every now and then.

i'm sitting still and content.

but i've got my mind set on something.

i'm going through the motions.

then there's more.

i feel the spark.

i feel the fire.

i'm burning inside out.

"real life ain't no fairy tale." you have to fight for what you want.

that's something i've always known and followed, or not. but it's crazy how sometimes the greatest stands we take come on a whim. there's that noble image of teddy roosevelt charging up san juan hill that comes to mind, and a million others of strong-armed quarterbacks staring down defenses in the fourth for comeback wins, even the rocky saga, a scrappy italian guy from the wrong side of philly standing toe to toe with apollo creed and some crazy russian bastard.

but is it as noble if you stumble into it, just sort of fall in ass backwards?

that's what i've been wondering lately.

i get a lot of praise for writing this book and being so young. but it's not mine to take. this wasn't my fight.

everything that happened and everything i've done, it all just came together. the dreams and flashbacks and feelings in the story are "vivid" and "real" because they are vivid and real to me. the guilt and shame that breaks you down and the strength you find in people you love and faith in more, it's not fiction to me.

but how can i claim something i know isn't mine?

MAKEGOOD started on a whim and has mostly stayed the same.

i wish i could make some profound statement and testify to how the story was written to inspire people and manifest, if only in fiction, the adage that it's never too late to try. but i'm not that guy. and that's not this story.

there are people who deserve that sort of recognition. they've fought for it. they've earned it.

this girl comes to mind, a vague memory from my childhood but there. she was the sweetest kid growing up and all in when it came to school. we were never really close friends so when i moved to new england, we didn't keep in touch. she ended up at stanford, where i can only assume she kicked as much academic ass as she did when we were young. she's married now, i think, and very happy. a feel good story.

if she wrote a book on the power of faith and truth and love and how all of that guided her, how she ended up all right because of it, that's a triumph. that's something worth reading and praising.

a story about the harshest addictions and insecurity-fueled affairs and guilt and shame from it all, the truth and love and redemption and that ending that gives you hope for the future? it's just life.

don't praise me for making it out alive and making a few bucks along the way.

praise me for the life i make for myself and for those i love once this ride is over. praise me for my path but not until i've reached the end. wherever that is.

going to law school and becoming a prosecutor, opening a bar and steakhouse with my father, chucking it all away and living life on a perpetual hike of the apps and sierras, wherever i end up, praise me when i'm a man and standing with the sun in my eyes and a smile on my face.

side note

side note…there are few things in this world more annoying to me than pretentious artists. do you really need fucked up hair and tight euro suits and retro gear to be a creative musician?

you’re not smarter than me just because i don’t “get” what you’re doing.

bondage

it’s almost midnight. i’m watching house on bravo with my girlfriend and now there’s an iphone commercial playing. i’ve promised myself for years i wouldn’t buy one but god knows i’ll probably pull the trigger this summer.

that made me think back for a second to my childhood. i was never really a video game kind of kid. i was always playing guitar or playing football or even hiking. but i remember the first time i played an xbox 360, jay’s house in venice. we spent countless hours battling, my patriots against his chargers. really, my patriots against any team he chose. he beat me every time. before that, i remember the first time i ever played a ps2. brian’s dad’s house in high school. we’d skip class and play tony hawk and experiment with his father’s liquor cabinet. before that, i remember my first playstation and being the first person in america to buy a copy of final fantasy vii. i remember playing for days without the walkthrough guide and then for even longer with it. i remember getting to the last disc and realizing the entire cd was a single battle. i beat it once and never tried again. before that, i remember my dad buying me this “virtual reality” headset game system that came with this one tank war simulator. pretty crazy stuff. before that, i remember unpacking the enormous package that included my super nintendo and this ridiculous bazooka gun. before that, there was my sega genesis and playing road rash with florence while my father was working or jurassic park with audren and eating doritos cooler ranch and drinking capri sun pouches. before that, there was my regular nintendo and playing zelda with my grammy and never beating the original mario bros.

it’s disarming how i can retrace the steps of my life through video game technology. it has me thinking about how we all get lost in the “new” and “hot” things we’re pushed to want and think we need.

consumer technology and our capitalist society as a whole, really. it’s crazy.

do we need the ipad or kindle or sony reader to get lost in good fiction? absolutely not. is it more convenient? perhaps. but there’s something about the feel of paper between your fingers that you can’t replace with some advanced form digital bondage.

do we need an ipod to enjoy the original beatles or beach boys recordings? i still have this cd that i bought years ago, the original junior kimbrough studio tracks. incredible stuff. there’s no way you can convince me it needs to be remastered. but someone will do it.

one of my favorite movies, mr. smith goes to washington, looks no better in blu-ray on some huge, flat lcd tv than it does on one of the half-ton wooden tv boxes you’d find in your grandparents’ basement.

these are the ramblings of a tired, still very sick, probably too old-fashioned and conservative kid from new england. and entirely hypocritical…they’re coming to you via blog…on the internet…from my laptop.

but, for the record, i just renewed my promise to stay iphone free this summer.

one day at a time, friends.

muse

there's something hilarious about how small rear windshield wipers get on cars these days. i saw one on a hatchback toyota wagon this morning and i had this theme stuck in my head after. the little engine that could. ...i'm just sayin.

which made me think of my favorite band, muse.

ok...it didn't really make me think of muse, but there's no other way i could legitimately talk about windshield wipers and muse in the same post. here goes nothing...

so i'm sitting in SP drinking some banana hot chocolate (thanks again, jordan) and listening to some random pandora station on an ipod blasting through the PA. then the tom jones piece comes on and it's loud. "it's not unusual" and just blasting, LOUD. and we're all rocking out. really, it's just me rocking out and i'm doing it on the inside. i don't think anyone not named Tom Jones or Ray Grace has ever looked cool with that song and don't feel like testing the waters. then it's over and the next song comes on. "imagine" by lennon. i mean, the transition is just horrendous. but it works somehow. it. just. works.

i'm working on chapter revisions and the rewrite for the intro and i'm trying to concentrate and somehow am. but i'm not hearing the music playing anymore. i've got muse in my head. "map of the problematique" to be exact. and i'm thinking back to the earliest inspirations for the novel.

it's 2005. i'm up in the sf bay area for college and surrounded by people i knew growing up but experiencing the area in the completely different way. i'm old enough to drive. i'm old enough to drink (not legally, but morally) and i'm old enough to do my own thing. i'm working and then in class until ten or eleven at night. i'm going for solo hikes and long drives through the hills to santa cruz. i'm completely unfocused but ace everything i attempt. i'm living the life. then there's this night when i realize half of my childhood was infinitely more fucked than i'd ever accepted previously. i accept that i'm a product of a million other people with good intentions and bad, some with none at all. i'm a product of the world around me. i'm a victim.

the thoughts are enough to choke on and i do. i can barely breathe by the time i decide to just get outside. and i do. i pack my bags and just leave. by the time i stop running, i'm in the middle of nowhere in the woods and hiking up castle rock. i've got a knife, a water bottle, some protein bars, the clothes on my back and enough thoughts and feelings to keep me more than warm at night. i'm burning inside out.

i'll never remember exactly how long i was gone. hours. days. a week. it's somewhere in there. but i'll always remember the moment i got back. i'll always remember the first pair of eyes i looked into and with a completely different perspective. i would never again let myself become a victim in anything. i'd be strong in my morality and powerful in my stance. i'd fight everyone and everything and with a big fucking smile on my face. all because of a single realization.

intentions don't matter, only actions.

all we can ever do is what we choose to. our thoughts and feelings and motives simply don't matter. this world will end someday and all of our thoughts and feelings and motives won't go down in the books. we're all alone in this place and it's up to us to save each other.

how does muse come into play? they never left my ipod that week.

i just got away. and couldn't have asked for a more perfect soundtrack.

try it.

inspiration

inspiration is a hell of a thing. it's rare, for one. i mean, it just comes and goes. the best example i can think of is the first song i ever wrote while playing guitar. to this day, it's still, somehow, one of the best pieces i've ever heard. i wrote the intro while learning different jazz chords and just kind of listed them off in a simple transition. the verses are just As and Cs and adds here and there. the chorus? i wrote it at least ten years later. that's the thing about inspiration, at least with me. you can't time it. i've been playing guitar since i was eight years old and i still haven't written lyrics for that song. sixteen years after writing the intro and verses, the song remains wordless. but i'm not worried. i think the best things in this world come to you and are never forced. that's why i was so surprised with the process of my novel, MAKEGOOD. depending on the rewrite of the introduction i'm still working on, the novel will end up around 350 pages. i wrote it in three months. it just kind of happened. about halfway through it all, i promised myself i wouldn't force a single page. hard as it as, i kept true to that promise. i'd go days, once even a solid week, without typing more than a few sentences. then i'd go days in a row of ten or twenty pages down. the objective was simple, to finish my first novel, but the ethics behind it kept it honest. i was inspired and i promised myself i would follow that inspiration, not the goal to make money or any other fake deadline manifested out of insecurities or lack of direction. i just did it.

just do it.

all in, all out

some people will never understand how it's so easy for me to make huge decisions on a whim, throw away everything i have for something i don't. it's never easy, closing your eyes, throwing your weight into it and running blind. i mean, i've learned a lot in these twenty four years but i won't pretend i have all the answers. truly, i have none. i only know what i do because it works for me. but here's my secret. it doesn't work just as often, if not more, than it does. i've been built up only to be let down and everyone around me could see it coming and warned me and did everything they could to stop me. but they couldn't. you see, people say a lot of things about the kind of man i used to be, have become and will continue to try to be someday, but the best compliment i've ever been paid is that im unstoppable when i set my mind to something. being incredibly competitive, i rarely lose. what has changed over the years, though, is what matters to me most. it's not the wins or the losses, i'm learning. it's about the score. it's about how in it you were or weren't. it's about how hard you fought for what you wanted. that's pretty easy to say when you win but you should learn to embrace the same when you don't. sure, i've lost, i've been hurt, i've been broken and lost and lost everything. but i've loved and helped and built and gained so much more than that. there was a girl i knew once, SO. i was never in love with her but i loved her, and that was new to me. in the thick of it all, she taught me more about myself and the world and what matters than any class i'd taken or teacher or professor i'd ever had. and the lesson came five years late, maybe, but it's still the same. i know what it's like to look someone in the eye who has wrecked your life and taken a torch to your heart and offer them a second chance. i know what it's like to feel betrayed and hurt and broken but still get up off the ground, get back in the ring, go eye to eye and fight for what's right. when you've been there and seen and felt that, you learn it's never too late to fight for what matters most, no matter how heavily the odds favor the other side. and that's a lesson that's just not in the books. all in or all out, i've probably let down as many people as i've impressed. all i can hope is that, at the end of the day, i'll have helped more people than i've hurt, i'll have loved more than i've lost, i'll have truly changed the world around me and not taken the passive stand that leaves most people beaten down and blown off in the wind. all in or all out, it's just how i live my life. i follow my heart and trust that it is as god made it. all in or all out, it's just me. this is stephen churchill. if you're reading this, thanks for sticking around.

it's in the details, life

life is so much more and so much less than we make it out to be. the beauty, i think, is in the details. the small stuff. in the smallest, most insignificant decisions we make every day, we find out who we are. as friends, as family, as loved ones, we so often lose touch with what matters most. we get lost in the big stuff. and that's great. but something my favorite sociology professor and i used to debate, my point, it's the simple stuff that matters most. those small, insignificant decisions we make every day, over time, form habits. habits, over time, form behavior. behavior, over time and interaction, is how people view your personality. personality, over time and in different circumstances, is what defines your character.

the message for today's post?

don't be afraid to choose and know you are.

love everything and everyone in every decision you make.

love.

...and a thank you goes out to someone very special to me. you know who you are, and thank you. i needed that.

going dark

there's something i've heard in a few spy/action flicks that i've always wanted to say. it happens when an agent decides to go into hiding and cease further communication for an indefinite amount of time.

i'm going dark.

ok...not for long. but i'm taking a few days off to relax a bit and finish the final chapter revisions i've been putting off for a few weeks. i also now have to find a new agent because of health issues, evidently. anyone who wishes to contribute to my stephen-drinks-his-sorrows-away-this-week fund, feel free to mail a bottle of Tormore my way. single malt. 12 year. much appreciated, thanks =) should you wish to reach me, just hit me up via email. stephen@stephenchurchill.com

all that said, i couldn't leave you guys for a few days or week or however long without even a half-assed shot across the bow, right? here goes nothing.

there's a tagline that i've always hated and i never knew why until last night. "what happens in vegas stays in vegas." it's just so fucking demeaning. and not just because it implies that bored housewives and bachelor accountants can escape from reality and party it up like they're in all the frats and sororities they wish they'd joined in college, though many do and it's sad to see. but it's demeaning because it implies that we can just walk away from our transgressions and hide our flaws from the worlds we all choose to live in. and that's just not right. you should never run from your past, but embrace it. get in front of it.

my father once told me that when i was a kid, out of my whole family, i was the sweet one. i was the good one, the one that would change the world around him with his heart because it really was just so big and open. somewhere along the way, i lost that. i have thrown away more opportunities and walked away from more talents and passions than mostly anyone i've ever known, whether in football or music or writing or school or professionally. i have lost myself in addiction and more than once. in doing all that, i pushed the closest people in my life as far from me as i could. i've cheated and stolen away my time and love and respect from those closest to me.

i've lost.

but i've loved. i've shared. i've created.

how can any man who's never tasted defeat, at his own hands or another's, truly ever appreciate the sweet tastes of success and passion and love?

more importantly, how can someone who hides from their past and keeps their weaknesses a secret ever truly define what love is to them?

you have to get in front of the bad, and the good.

this is my story.

nfl cba

i'm going to keep this one short since i'm working on the final chapter revisions on my plate for Makegood and excited to get away from my laptop for the first time in months.

i'm feelin kinda sunday. i'm sick of all this pre-draft, pre-training camp, pre pre pre talk. i miss me some football.

the nfl and nflpa will literally shatter my heart to pieces if there's a holdout that leads to a strike. puh puh puh pleeeeaaase dont do this to me, fellas.

that is all.

i remember.

there was this kid i knew back when i was one, too. his name was michael d'angelo and he was in my kindergarten class at primary plus in mountain view, ca. i'm not sure how i remember this when i don't remember what i ate for dinner a week ago, but i remember this one afternoon when we were both waiting for our parents to pick us up. there was this water fountain where people used to toss coins into and make wishes on, just outside of the entrance. michael and i were walking around the fountain, round and round. we were walking around and decided to count as high as we could. he'd say "1" and i'd say "2" and so on. now, crazy as it may seem, i swear we counted to at least a thousand. then my dad came and picked me up and his parents were right behind. i don't remember much else about this kid but that memory's just kind of stuck around my whole life.

its funny the things that do, you know? and you really have no choice in the matter most of the time. i mean, i still remember getting my thumb getting caught in the car door of my dad's Olds back in the day and him offering any way to make it up to me and i asked for a Happy Meal. i still remember getting chased by a bee when i was picking flowers in a garden with my friend from first grade, andrew kulch. bees don't chase, you might say, but i still remember the sweat pouring down my face as we ran from the garden through the parking lot to his mom's station wagon. i've hated bees ever since. i still remember going to birthday parties at nickel city in san jose and all the times i watched my father and grandmother cheer on the cowboys when they took on 49ers from the big screen in our living room. i still remember what it felt like to get up on stage the first time and i was fucking terrified. i still remember forgetting every word to "at the fair" and just kind of humming along and hiding behind my guitar. i still remember the first time i ever threw a football and, unfortunately, i also still remember kristen sexton massaging my arm and pinching the nerves in between my bicep and not being able to throw one again for almost two months. i still remember the first time i walked down wilshire boulevard in los angeles and the first highrise building i ever saw up close. then there's this gap of a year or so that is so god damned cloudy in my mind, a year that felt like a decade and spent under the influence of no less than five different drugs i had no business taking. i lost a year of my life and then lost the last year trying to get it back. but i'm here. and i'm alive. and i'm healthy. and i still remember getting off that plane in boston and the entire bus ride up to lebanon. i still remember the look on my father's face when i got into his car and he took me home. i still remember my dogs jumping into my arms. i still remember my stepmother's baking. i still remember my home. and i will always remember that. i still remember telling myself my entire life i would never become a writer, to do something that actually matters. i still remember the first words i wrote in the introduction and the first chapter of MAKEGOOD. i still remember the moment i realized life isn't always going to end the way you think or plan, it's the ride there that matters most.

and i still don't remember what i ate a week ago. but maybe there's a receipt in a pocket somewhere that can fix that.

easter...part two

will you judge me if i start this by saying i'm listening to kellie pickler? my ridiculously vast itunes library does the damndest things when i click shuffle and let her do her thing.

life's sometimes better that way, i think. on random. for instance, my dogs. at my parents house, we have two dogs. one of them is a female lhasa apso named sable. sable is my dog. or, really, i'm her boy. one of the constants in my life these past seven or so years, she's the truest definition of loyal i've ever seen. when i'm not here, she's depressed and low. she sits in front of my bedroom door and waits for me to come back and be with her again. when i'm here, she's always at my side. she's sleeping at my feet. shes on my lap. she's in bed and curled up against my back when i sleep. i can be gone for a year or two and she's the same. she can't really jump and she's half blind but, when i walk in the door, she runs and jumps up for me to catch her. that's love. and had my parents and i not taken a random trip to the pound, we never would have met. i remember that night like it was yesterday. she just runs up to me while i'm on a bench outside of the adoption office. she never left my side. sable's gotten me through some pretty tough times and i'm sure she'll get me through plenty more. and there's just no way i've ever or ever could deserve it. all because of random.

the other dog? auggie is a yorkie and he's a little shit. absolutely no loyalty whatsoever. he's the cutest thing in the world and everyone loves him but that's what bothers me, i think. if someone broke into my house, sable wouldn't be able to do anything but she'd try to protect our home. auggie would see some random guy in a mask breaking a window and think to himself "oh! someone else who can get me a biscuit!" but he is cute. the little shit.

and...for the record...it's now "we're at the top of the world" by the juliana theory. upgrade? hmm

i took a hike tonight with my girlfriend. we went out just when the sun was starting to hint it might not be around much longer, that sort of lingering sunset that hasn't quite begun just yet.

rural new England is fucking magical, i swear. but i've sort of forgotten that over the past year. i've been so caught up in the daily bullshit, the grind of this crazy world i live in, i just missed it all as the seasons came and left without me.

and, boy, how i've missed it.

there's just something relaxing about being out in the middle of nowhere. you find yourself. and i found myself tonight. i found so much more than i ever could have hoped. the thing i love most about hiking is the connection. with each step, you disappear further into the great unknown, however discovered, polluted it may be, it just feels new. with each step, i just felt so much more relaxed. my zen, i guess. and i wasn't alone. it meant that much more to feel her hand holding mine, to have her jump on my back and walk through the muddy, mucky parts because i wore boots and she foolishly wore nike trainers, embracing at sunset on top of a hill of trees and rocks and leaves and greens and, well, life. it was all connected. the sun came to rise just one more time over our heads, as if to say good night, the animals were talking to us in the distance in every direction, the air was a gentle breeze letting us know we're still alive and awake and not dreaming. it was all connected. i wasn't alone. the moment i looked up and out, surveying the scene, taking it all in and processing the experience, i realized how much i love. i love my family. i love my friends. i love my life. i love. won't you?

easter

it's easter and i'm editing chapters, pushing along. i'm thinking about the themes of the day, about faith and love and family. but then i'm thinking about hope.

and its more than just a word, but the single word hope can transform you.

keep it in mind and even the simplest of things is just bigger, somehow.

the section of MAKEGOOD i've been editing deals with an escape. i'm escaping this moment and running far away and as fast as my legs will take me. but i'm listening to the music playing on this site and a scene that's dark and depressed turns into something bigger. i keep the single word hope in mind and the scene becomes more than it once was. i'm not running away. now i'm running to. and that's pretty powerful. so, on this holiday, i wish we all find the hope within our lives, the promise within ourselves. this world is bigger than any and all of us. but, dark and intense and ominous as our problems seem, they can't love, they can't feel, they can't hope. i can. you can. and that's something.

god?

i bought this bible a while back, so long ago i cant remember when. i was unpacking a box in my closet a couple weeks ago and i found it. NIV thinline, still in the box. beautiful Italian, duo-tone leather. i havent opened it yet and am not sure why. im not the type to read scripture every night or really ever all that frequently, but i used to be. there was a time in my life when i felt guided. i was here and for a reason. there was purpose to the man i was becoming. i lost that somewhere along the way and never found it again. fast forward a few years and im here. i had everything and lost it all, gained it back and then some. im blessed with the people around me, so thankful for everything in my life. everythings coming together again. i mean, ive just picked an agent. the book is just about done. im on my way. but theres something missing. am i going to drop some profound statement about how finding my faith once again will complete me inside and God is the answer to all my questions? im not that guy. but i found this book in my closet and i dont remember buying it or why. and maybe theres just more to it than that. maybe not. but maybe.

kanada's death

it's noon and i'm about to get lunch when i decide to plug into my laptop and get some revisions done in the last chapter. i pull up itunes and shuffle it a bit, eventually come to the song which is playing in the background as you're reading this. "kanada's death, pt.2 (adagio in d minor)" from the sunshine sountrack, composed by john murphy. a couple seconds and it's building. and then i'm hooked. i'm pulled in and just can't stop writing. my mind's racing.

and this is what i love about music. so many people think of it as this passive sort of ambience that can help you relax or indulge you with something catchy and fun. i guess, in some ways, they're right. but good music, and by "good" i mean GOOD, it's active. it moves you. it's like this car that comes out of nowhere when you're walking down the street, pulls up to the sidewalk and the door just opens. you have no idea who's behind the wheel or where it's going. but, if you truly just let go, you get in and your life is never the same, if only for a few minutes. i've played guitar my entire life and appreciated this even firsthand. plugged in, i'll just start with a slide up the frets, a cool, gentle hammer-on sparking the sweetest blues scale and my fingers come alive. they end up in grungy, power chords or the truest, single notes plucked in a lead. wherever they end up, it's just right. it's good. it's true. in that moment. and, in that moment, i'm alive.

"Then something happens. Windows down, the wind beats a tune against my hand as it cuts in and out of the air beside me. I'd close my eyes if I could, but I hear it still just the same. It starts off slow and grand, this orchestra rising up from a cold mute, soon a bright, warm sun shining in the background. Then the air comes in bits, in a rhythm thats driving along to the tires spinning beneath us. Sweetly ethereal, it's like I'm flying through every fantastic landscape ever imagined, on some old ship sailing into battle, dancing in the rain and watching the miracle of birth all at once. Its fucking magical. And thats when it hits me. Im alive." - closing lines from chapter 14 in MAKEGOOD

makegood

i've got "god's gonna cut you down " by johnny cash on blast. and repeat. on blast.

and it has me thinking about the end.

it came and left in our sleep, none of us the wiser. this perfect, imperfect world is what we're left with.

there's no one left to come for us. there are no hands for us to hold but our own. it's up to us to save ourselves.

if, as i've suggested many times, especially in the book, emotions and intentions don't matter, only actions, then we're fucked.

or not.

what's left in this perfect, imperfect place is the opportunity for each and every one of us to live the life of a saint in a world of sinners. this void we so often find when we raise our hands up to the sky and call out for help, it's the ultimate test of not just our strengths, but our weaknesses. He's there, i have no doubt, and He cares and loves us all. but easier isn't always better. there's a line in the book that's ringing true at the moment. our guy is explaining his lack of faith and drops the line "whoever said God is Love was sadly fucking mistaken." his friend responds, simply, with "maybe He's just got a different definition." and what if that's it. what if the truest definition of "Love" was lost somewhere in the rush to crown the next American Idol and marry off the Bachelor and Bachelorette before The Amazing Race lost its Weakest Link and the only Survivor found himself Lost in the Jersey Shore. the world we look back on and fondly remember, a place where honor and dedication were rewarded over beauty and Self, it was traded in long before any of us had any say in it. and if we could just get back there, get back to being right[eous] more than Right...we'd see that we never lost the most basic gift He ever gave us. the ability to fix anything wrong in this world with what's right in it.

saints in a world of sinners, i dare you. take a stand.

honest. sincere. loyal. moral. compassionate. loving.

and don't just choose one.

make it good.

do you want to know a secret?

i'm just going to toss this out there. i like listening to taylor swift.

...i know.

blondes

"there's something disarming about a beautiful girl in the california sun." it's a line from ch13 in MAKEGOOD. and it's just so fucking true. behind every great man, there's a great woman. it's cliche, but cliche because it's accurate more than it's not. i met Sara Bareilles once in the SF bay. talk about a prime example of my point. talented, smart, humble and beautiful, this girl just had it. that quality you just can't describe. on paper, she's great. out in the world, she's just better. put this girl on a stage and i swear the world is better for it. fast forward a few years and i'm feeling the same way but even more. there's this girl i know. she grew up in a small town in the middle of rural new england. she was born and raised in a working middle class family and has worked her whole life for what she has and what she's wanted, even listens to country music. she stayed in new england for college and she's about to become an elementary school teacher. now, i know girls in la, nyc, boston, vegas, girls who are doctors and lawyers, actresses and models, i even know a girl who wants to be president and probably will. so a small town teacher from the sticks in new hampshire stands out? incredibly. someone once asked me why and i had all the usual, cliche answers you'd get in the closing dialogue of a romantic comedy. you know, the scene where the two that were meant to be together finally realize it. if you ask me now, the answer's simple. i'm better this way.

she's the missing piece to the fucked up puzzle that's me. for a million reasons i know and millions more i'll never understand, when my head hits the pillow and hers is nearby, i'm the man i always could have, would have and should have been. it all just adds up.

i'm better this way.

q&a

a close friend and industry insider, who wishes to remain anonymous (you're so cool), has been helping me during the process, giving feedback, listening to me vent and all that. she put her business shoes on, i guess, and sent me a pseudo-interview. here goes nothing...

q1 - what inspired you to write the book?

a - life, love and the ups and downs that come with both, i guess. there are so many emotions i still haven't even figured out, so much life still left to live, but i kept going back to the past. my memories and feelings and everything...they'd just keep coming up like roadblocks in the path i was trying to take away from it all. i had gone through so much and just left it all behind me without really trying. but there was more to it than that. i had something to say about it. i had to get that message out, somehow. even if no one ever read it. i just started writing.

q2 - the voice behind the story seems so personal and the main character seems so real. how much of the experience in the book is yours?

a - it's definitely pretty honest. good or bad, it's me. i mean, i didn't kill myself. god didn't bring me back from the dead and plant me back on earth for a second go at it. but it feels like that. the characters are all very real. the setting is very real. the plot, while obviously fiction, is very personal, very closely based.

q3 - is there a message you're hoping your readers will take away from your story?

a - actions matter, not intentions. but it's never too late to make things right. keep your heart open because you never know how life will open back up those wounds and let you try again.

q4 - is there meaning to the title aside from the textbook, business definition?

a - i could say something a little corny or a little contrived here, i think. if i try to make too much of it, it won't stay real. so...no. so much happened that was right and wrong. i made and gained just as much as i lost. i hurt as many people as i learned to love. the pieces are broken all around me. for whatever's left, this is my makegood. it's all i've got to offer.

q5 - how hard was it to relive your past and life experiences?

a - honestly, that was the easiest part. dreams and flashbacks are a significant part of the story. and they're real to me. i can close my eyes and see the streets i used to drive on. i can taste all the foods i used to eat. i can smell the thick, smog in the air. los angeles has this way of just getting under your skin. the memories and emotions i pulled away from that time of my life are just the same. reliving it was as simple as closing my eyes.

q6 - who/what do you think has had the most influence on your writing?

a - my father. easy. i mean, the story has nothing to do with him. but he's been there my entire life and, every step of the way, he's encouraged me to write. even the theme of the story has to be attributed to him, in so many ways. through all the fuck-ups, he's always been there telling me i'm better than i fear, stronger than i hope and more loved than i can imagine.

q7 - will there be a sequel?

a - absolutely not. i barely made it out of this one alive. the follow-up is in the works, though. i've got a couple ways to go with it, too. i've had a cookbook in the works for a while (MAKE HER BITE). i'll probably focus on that. i've also got another novel in mind that i think will be pretty epic. so i really have no idea what my next move will be. but no sequel. promise.

that took forever. but i can't imagine the interviews and questions will get any easier from here on out. i wish i could pull the Ghost Man card like when you're a kid on a sandlot playing stickball. "ghost man on third!" and he'll address all future questions/concerns. that's all, thanks.

query

sent the first batch of query letters out this weekend. not sure which agency i'll end up with, but i'm getting a lot of positive feedback and i'm excited for what's next. it's intense in a way i've never felt before. i'm taking the next step and the rest of my life begins here, now. i can see it. i can feel it. in each fucking breath, i feel it.

i never wanted to be a writer...

i guess there are worse things.

victorino

i met the devil in poughkeepsie, new york. he took a seat right beside me at the end of the bar. he said i looked familiar and asked if we had met some time before. i drank with the devil in poughkeepsie, new york. i confessed i hadn't prayed to God since 2008 and he said, "oh, kid, you should try again. you know, before it's too late." i asked him where my soul would go if i just dropped dead today. he smiled and said, "you've got some good friends waiting for you at the gates." hallelujah. he said, "just say the word and i'll give you fame and fancy whores. or would you rather die a simple man, just honest and poor?" i said, "well, at least now i know who my real friends are and i can't ask for much more." i thanked the devil for my drinks and made my way for the door.

hallelujah.

-victorino.

birthday

so today i'm 24. dinner, maybe drinks. nothing special planned but truly enjoying a respite with my favorite person in the world. next year? i'll be celebrating 25 with a thru-hike on the app. trail. book it.

frozen

for as long as i can remember, i've had this problem. i love seeing movies when they're still new and in theaters, but i almost always end up reading the entire synopsis of a film before i get a chance to see it. it's a love/hate thing, i think. i didn't read up on the sixth sense, though, and i'm proud of that. somehow, it helps the story just as often as it hurts it. edge of darkness was a pretty intense film with a lot to take in, not just a single "good guy/bad guy" theme. reading up on the plot ahead of seeing it, i paid more attention to the characters i wanted to. kind of cool, kind of not. every now and again, i run across a film i want to see and can't find the plot for. wikipedia lets us all down sometimes, i guess. i've been searching for the plot of FROZEN for months now. it came out probably 3 months ago and the only spoilers i have found are regarding the special effects. lame. being an indie film with the shittiest distribution i've ever seen, i don't think there was a single theater in all of New England that played it. so 3 months go by and i'm still googling for spoilers, a synopsis, anything other than the same fucking trailer i've watched at least 20 times. i'm not sure how i got this far on the topic of movie spoilers but it begs the question...do i just hate surprises? maybe. even my girlfriend kind of just gave in, gave me my birthday (it's tomorrow) presents a few days ahead of the date. i'm probably reading too much into this . i think we're all just naturally curious. besides, if a story's really good, and i mean told well and in a manner which connects to you personally, you can know the ending and still get sucked in by the meat of it in the middle. which brings me back to what i was doing before typing this up. have. to. finish. this. fucking. book.

tiger woods

tiger woods is on tv and i'm sitting here working on the novel.

trying to, anyway.

but i'm finding the parallels between the situation he's in and the one i left in los angeles.

now i've lost my focus.

time for the fundamentals, the list of steps to guide me through the process when i've lost my way.

and it's such an incredible process, i think, writing a book, and maybe because it's just so fucking dangerous. makegood works best as a story when i let it all just hang out there. no reservations. no regrets. that's easier said than done. which is how i'm viewing the tiger woods situation. look, i had no respect for the man before everything went down, so my opinion could and should be biased. i should have even less respect now, think he's just some horrible person now, a horrible role model, blah blah blah, all the same shit you heard for months after his wife chased him out of his house with a golf club. but i don't feel that way at all. somehow, starting with little to no respect for the man, i'm coming out of this with, at the very least, empathy. i've been there. granted, my indiscretions were sparked by, fueled by and revealed by addiction, drugs, and all that goes with it. but i've stood where he's standing. i've had all the layers peeled back and stood there naked for the world to see without any explanation or abilitiy to respond. and i came out better than i went in. does he mean the apology he speaks now? who knows. but no one is better than anyone else in this world. and few have ever even worn those shoes. i have. and all i can say is give the guy a break. give it time. actions speak louder than words and his behavior will or won't get better from this point forward. but show some respect for him, his family and for yourself.