In Memoriam est Recolitur passionis eius

In Memoriam est Recolitur passionis eius

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December 24th 2007

December 24th, 2007

I'm pushing a cart through the local health food store , and I pass by the olive bar. Like most other people at this time of year I spend at lest some time reflecting on the things of the past and reveling in memories. I remember a cold Manhattan night in a similar store pushing a cart full of various foods and beverages and straining to remember which olives she told me she likes. In the end my nerves win out over my memory and I take a small sampling for about eight different containers and know that at least some of them will be correct. Outside the store the car service driver circles the block patiently with a trunk full of things from various other stops. Now I'm picking out cheese, something I never had a taste for until recently. Goat cheese in wine, carr's water crackers, and olives. What happened to me? A few months ago I was just another internet success story spending my idle time behind a bar instead of a keyboard and now here I am dressed like the cover of Gentleman's quarterly and putting together a feast that would give even the editor of Gourmet magazine pause. One car ride later I'm back in Brooklyn with groceries all over the place begging to be put away, and one gift to wrap. After a short time and several glasses of wine I came to realize that in no way was I skilled enough to paper wrap even the simplest things. By some miracle the cats have managed to play only so much in the paper and tape and bits The spark of genius lights in me and instead of paper wrapping I find a wooden box that was destined for another time and place. A dozen street vendor roses give up their petals to be hot glued to the inside of the box, the gift laid within and the remainder spread in the layers of cashmere and wool. It's cold out , after all. She complains about it being cold and hey, having a few friends in the high end fashion industry pays off at times like this. Closing the box, wrapping it in a single ribbon that meets in the center, sealing wax dripping from the tip of the stick, and my monogram pressed into the molten puddle. Complete. At the party later the oohs and ahhs and comments of 'Where did you find this guy?' are lost in the fact that finally someone out there understands who and what you are.

That time, just like the walk past the olive bar, has passed. Tonight it's deli made chicken salad and a bottle of organic lemonade. The luck of the draw has lef me with the night off from work but I have no more grand plans than some television and sleep. Even the self made tradition of sharing Cornish game hens with my cats has passed. As of Thanksgiving I am less one cat, and nothing has seemed right since then. So I push my cart past the cheese and the wine, to the checkout where my feast of the day is less than twenty dollars and in a single bag. I toyed with the idea of buying myself something outlandish that would make me give off the old evil scientist laugh and lock myself in the computer room for days, but the flavor of that didn't sit well with me. The drive home is uneventful and slow. So many people running around at the last minute trying to find something to prove, or planning their retreat into the things that keep them alive. I try to remind myself that I'm not the only one in this place and time, and that for all of my discomfort there is someone who wishes they were me. I think that way because I know I wish I was someone else. Maybe even some when else as well.

Sometimes at night I open the sliding patio door and let the cold crisp Las Vegas air into my bedroom. I tunnel myself under multiple blankets and for a moment try to dispel reality. It's not cold desert air in my room, it's the chill of a drafty Brooklyn loft conversion, complete with sirens and people on the street below talking too loud. There are two cats , not one, curled at my feet keeping the three of us heated through the night. Two floors below me is a woman I love with all my heart who is putting away the glasses we drank out of and thinking kindly of me. The other thing keeping me warm is the volume of 1987 merlot washing its way through my veins. The stereo presents a piano solo to lull me to sleep with all these things in my arms.

I'm ignoring the fact that this is all in my mind. I forget the sand and dust blowing in the open window, the empty cat bed, the aftertaste of lemonade and toothpaste, and remember a time when I was , in fact, alive.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Delchi.

1:11 PM - 5 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

I don’t have enough ...

I don't have enough " Fuck You " to go around, so some of you are going to have to share.

I'm tired of being the shit pot for peoples irrevelant prattering.

I'm tired of being the only one with a pair. I'm tired of worthless menaingless, low people stepping on them for jollies.

I'm sick of you pathetic children, running about with your hands out expecting, demanding , a false and undeserved sense of entitlement.

So many useless pointless meaningless people, who will shit on you for playing straight, and fuck you for trying to outplay them at their own game.

A time will come.

4:16 PM - 7 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

In case you were wondering ...

http://www.delchi.net

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Another auld lang syne

Met my old lover in the grocery store 
The snow was falling Christmas eve
I stole behind her in the frozen foods
And I touched her on the sleeve

She didn't recognize the face at first 
But then her eyes flew open wide
She went to hug me and she spilled her purse
And we laughed until we cried

We took her groceries to the checkout stand
The food was totaled up and bagged
We stood there lost in our embarrassment 
As the conversation dragged

We went to have ourselves a drink or two
But couldn't find an open bar
We bought a six-pack at the liquor store
And we drank it in her car

We drank a toast to innocence, we drank a toast to now
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness but neither one knew how

She said she'd married her an architect
Who kept her warm and safe and dry
She would have liked to say she loved the man
But she didn't like to lie

I said the years had been a friend to her
And that her eyes were still as blue
But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I saw doubt or gratitude

She said she saw me in the record stores
And that I must be doing well
I said the audience was heavenly but the traveling was hell

We drank a toast to innocence, we drank a toast to now
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness but neither one knew how
We drank a toast to innocence, we drank a toast to time
Reliving in our eloquence, another auld lang syne

The beer was empty and our tongues were tired
Running out of things to say
She gave a kiss to me as I got out 
And I watched her drive away

Just for a moment I was back at school 
And felt that old familiar pain
And as I turned to make my way back home
The snow turned in to rain

~~~ Dan Fogelberg ~~~

8:36 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Before ...

How can it happen that every time
You ask us this question the answer seems like a lie
You know what were saying and you know what it means
And its always sincere God knows
But it never gets through to where you need

Before you were born someone kicked in the door
Theres no place for you here, stay back where you belong
Before you were born someone kicked in the door
You are not wanted here, stay back where you belong

God damn the people who left you in pain
God damn the father without face, without name
And God damn the lovers who never showed up
And God damn the wounds that show how deep a word can cut

Before you were born someone kicked in the door
Theres no place for you here, stay back where you belong
Before you were born someone kicked in the door
You are not wanted here, stay back where you belong

And how can it happen now that you know the cause
That nothing is changing and everythings wrong
But pain is the healing and the tears sting like alcohol
Just keep on there breathing
Well bring you down the long, long road back home

-- TTWS

11:01 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Headlights ....

And if in love she cried
Something wasn't right
I'm sorry
Would be easy
To say I love you

Headlights on the parade
Light up the way
Headlights on the parade
Light up the way
I go, yeah

Close your eyes
Come with me
Only love is alive
Close your eyes
Can't you see
Only love will survive, yeah

Headlights on the parade
Light up the way
I love you

Headlights on the parade
Light up the way
I've made up my mind
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Only love will survive
Yeah
The city wins while you and I
Can't find a way
Oh, headlights on the parade, yeah, yeah

Fly little angel
Fly little angel
Yeah

-- The Blue Nile

6:35 AM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

Please ...

Please dont judas me
Treat me as you like to be treated
Please dont blacklist me
Leave me as you'd wish to find me
Dont analyze me, sacrifice me
Please dont judas me.

Please dont chastise me
Show me just one shred of kindness
Try to help me see
Guide me in my eyes of blindness
Dont despise me, categorize me
Please dont judas me.

No, no dont judas me
No, please dont judas me

Please dont headshrink me
Dont disguise your innuendos
Make no lies to me
I can see the way the wind blows
Dont deface me, annihilate me
Please dont judas me.

Please dont number me
Dont betray my trusted promise
Please dont anger me
I find it hard to bear no fairness
Dont frustrate me, manipulate me
Please dont judas me

No no dont judas me
No,please dont judas me

- Nazareth

8:08 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

The Devil’s Coachman

Yesterday it seemed so cool and everything was fabulous
Built of brick and made for an eternity
Give an inch and take an inch and what you've got is where you were
The universe is based on sullen entropy
It falls apart as it goes on

Yesterday I saw the Devil in the nude
It was embarrassing, I turned away
He was leering in the mirror when I looked again

Everything you say you won't is what you will eventually
Honesty is money in the cemetery
If he treats you horribly, he's probably a Scorpio
He's a long kebab through your ovaries
The same goes out, the same goes in

Yesterday I saw the Devil in a mood
He wasn't angry, but he stood around
Biting off the legs of all his furry chums

I remember everything as if it happened years ago
Probably it did, so I remember it
You are just your feelings it might give you vertigo
Falling off a high place and into it
And I was into you

Yesterday I saw the Devil in my food
I wasn't hungry but I played with it
Blood red horns gouged through my scrambled (egg)

Yesterday I saw the Devil in my heart
I was expecting him, the doctor came
I have to call the doctor every time we kiss

-- Robyn Hitchcock

7:09 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

On " Coming Out Day "

11:48 AM - 6 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment