variety, the redux (part deux)

in the spirit of this newfound, more balanced life perspective, i want to share a couple thoughts:

-no matter how tempted you are, tickets to see charlie sheen smoke and bitch are not worth it, especially at $750 a piece

-no matter how irrelevant it may seem, giving up scotch for lent? it's the pits, man.

-no matter how hard i try to defend the political and social stance i've taken my whole life, it's time to admit that i'm wrong. gay marriage should and needs to be legalized. now. you see, throughout the most cognitive portions of my life, i've been of the thought that, while gay and lesbian couples should have every right guaranteed that any straight couple would, the term "marriage" was just off limits. after watching mere minutes, and passing ones at that, of the bachelor this week, i have to say that any aspect of marriage i felt too sacred to change is gone. if we can make a spectacle of manufactured romance and fake reality with 20 roses being given out, all culminating in what is supposed to be, even if only for shear entertainment value, an honest marriage proposal? if the assholes behind nbc can make a spectacle of marriage, let the gays and lesbians have it. honestly. i have some really great friends that are gay and i would trust them in any way possible 7 days a week over any single contestant that has ever been on any reality dating show. (that is, of course, with the exception of arnold schwarzenegger.) so, really, i've simply been wrong. my own insecurities about the rate at which our culture is evolving precluded me from supporting a cause i now have come to accept is, really, just fine. i don't have to agree with their lifestyle to know they're better people than any douchebag that's handing out or being handed a rose on national television. let them marry, it's only right.

variety, the redux

it seems like all my life i've done everything all wrong, or at least tried to.

it would be disingenuous and merely placating for me to blame it on or imply the blame could be a result of my personal and familial disadvantages growing up or the million socioeconomic factors in constant flux throughout my childhood.

you see, if i bitch about that, on the flip side of that coin, there's another person, just like me, who grew up in similar circumstances, and is now either successful or not but not complaining about a single card they were dealt.

a losing hand is still a hand. and mine has certainly won more than it's lost.

so it's not that.

and, really, what "it" is doesn't even matter, because i'm beginning to realize that every single choice i've ever made has brought me to where i'm at right now. like it or not, i can't live someone else's life...i have to live my own. after all, no one can but me.

so then the only question is where is "here" and when is "right now" exactly?

let's examine.

i'm sort of an asshole.

you see, even at my very worst, which god knows has been terribly low in regard to acceptable behavior and overall moral trajectory, i've still done some pretty damn terrific things. so, if you'll humor me, at my worst i'm still a hell of a lot better in judgment and general social direction than mostly any other pool sample you'll collect in a random test. (i say that because if you're comparing me to a group of seminary students on charity leave to build plumbing and crude electric infrastructure in a third world...fuck off.)

and i know that sounds horribly self-indulgent, so you'll just have to trust when i say that for years i have beaten myself up over feeling guilty and wishing for the chance to press the "reset" on so many things, and it took someone really close to me a considerable amount of effort to show me just how mistaken i was. "so far beyond decent," they said. so let's, for the sake of playing devil's advocate, dumb that down to just "decent" and call it a wash.

so how can even a "decent" person at the same time be an asshole?

first you need to understand why my previously mentioned friend would even call me "decent" in the first place.

"you have an enormous heart, bigger than probably any i've ever seen."

if that's true in the positive sense, so it must be in the negative.

my friend was right and i do, in many ways, have a big, open heart, and i suppose that's probably more of a good thing than bad, but that doesn't mean it's always clear skies and open arms. sometimes it's dark and pretty fucking gloomy.

so, back to that point, how can a "decent" person with an open heart still be an asshole?

because the door swings both ways.

for every person i've ever helped and genuinely cared about that the rest of the world ignored, there are two more popular people i've pissed off or, i mean, really, pissed on. and believe me when i say there's nothing noble in helping those less fortunate if you're not still, at the same time, willing to help those as fortunate or more than you at any given time. contrary to what bill maher implied in his awesomely satirical and witty documentary, jesus didn't only love poor people. he didn't hate rich people. he loved people. well, people that loved, anyway.

and that's the lesson, folks.

i'm a decent guy that's done some really cool things in my life, had a bit of success and maybe helped a lot of people way less fortunate, but i'm also an asshole because i've never really cared about being solid for most of the people who were solid for me.

and it's nothing nearly as dramatic as i'm describing, i'm sure.

these words will fade in obscurity and, if at all, be remembered as mere late-night rambling. you see, it's not lifelong or any sort of character deficiency.

it's a couple years of, for lack of a better term, pretty shitty behavior. great highs where you love me and deep lows where you wonder why i just don't care.

it's inconsistency.

and that is how a decent person can be an asshole.

while i've sort of been dipping my feet in the pool of fixing that behavioral trend over the past few weeks, i need to get back to being my old "all-in or all-out" self. for all the effort i've put in, and i have, i've still failed to really accept just how personally affecting it can be for someone else in my life when i refuse to open that closed-off heart back up.

it ends tonight.

and that statement sounds so much more dramatic than it needs to, but it's simple. point blank.

from now on, that's all you'll get. nothing more. and, more importantly, nothing less.

so much on the plate

the subject really says it all.

there's just so much going on right now and i've got to keep focused.

but i'll leave you with this thought...

"a weight-loss book written by physicists would consist of one sentence: consume calories at a lower rate than your body burns them."

between the lines?

we were all put here on this rock with so very specific talents and passions and, at the end of the day, we're all just looking to get by, but we're all so scared of failure and reaching at straws, grasping for the best, easiest, most guaranteed solutions to our problems.

get back to the basics of being yourself and the rest will follow.

i love me some false condescension

a wise person once told me, "when you've got that 'it' factor, you can afford to be a little more patient and a little more humble than the next person."

speak softly and carry a big stick, so to speak.

now, while i could spend hours making my case to said "mentor" and arguing that the "it" factor they so flatteringly referred to me having has never and won't ever be a quality i see in myself, the simple fact is, whether i see it or not, they do. and, so they said, everyone around me does, too.

as humbly as possible, let me explore.

what is "it" anyway?

if not found in the tangibles of our lives, it's then one of those "intangibles" you so often hear about from sports commentators and prognosticators of all sorts.

the ten million analysts clogging every media outlet have made the term so cliche it often loses its meaning and, like any other overused term, should probably be omitted for a few years until we appreciate it enough to use it properly, sparingly.

but the problem is, even if you can't see it, feel it, grasp it, those so very "intangible" qualities are still there, and you have to call them something, right?

so there we are, or there, or here, i am, albeit against my willing description, with that damned intangible, that "it" factor.

so if i've got it, then i can afford to walk with a little more patience, right?

so much easier said than done.

try hard as i may, i'll never be able to control the obnoxious acts or behavior of others, so any indiscretions as a result of them or their insecurities in my presence are and will never be my fault.

sadly, though, any haste in my reaction to such acts, indiscretions, obnoxious behavior and general lack of consideration or compassion, resulting in inconsideration or lack of compassion or general decency is and will always be my fault.

so then there it is, that giant fucking 800lb gorilla in the room. it's my responsibility.

that's something i'm figuring out as i get older, i guess, that human nature is, at it's worst and sadly, perhaps, most common, to deceive, to annoy, to instigate, to envy, to betray.

and, if that's true, just how could this world get any worse?

"in its last hour, the world will be saved from itself by the Lord, our God."

...

...

...and we're still waiting.

so if what i've realized is true then, so it would seem, no one is coming for us. there's no greater salvation, or just maybe not yet.

it's up to us to save each other.

...even those we otherwise might let sink on their own.

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.