Entr`acte

It had been quite a year. From Elvis-inspired beats pulsing through his veins, to writing. From Italy to Mexico. And back to the USA. He remembered every detail. Every "ciao bella," every note from that 20's musical, the smell of his body, the night he and his friend almost got arrested, and the clink her glass of C'de Menthe made when it kissed the rim of his Martini. And when he decided it was over. Because he knew what was right.

"I'm disappointed in you," was the tepid response that he received.

Disappointed.

As disappointed as we was with himself? He hated lies. He refused to lie. But who's going to hell if that lie is okay to make yourself believe? And he decided, rather abruptly, to start over. He imagined that she'd be confused. She would have questions he could not answer because he wasn't sure how to answer them to himself. Time would pass. She would get through the election. Time would pass. She would pray not to be strangers. Time would pass.

And he would search for answers. And he would take the time to finally figure out who he is after over 10, 11, 12 years. Finally figuring out what it means to be close to the real God, not the Westboro Baptist God (and the variations that most protestant churches have taken from them).

And suddenly, an unfortunate incident happened. And he couldn't help himself. It was time. Enough of this. Maybe time heals things? Alters things? Maybe she wasn't as disappointed this time? Maybe a step back was good for everyone, and now maybe she knows.

They talked. And talked, and talked some more. About things on the surface. Nothing drastic or life changing. No "where the fuck have you been for the past three months?" No "learning how to be a 'college student' for the first time in my life."

It was simple. Easy. Painless.

He hoped it could have even been longer. But he told her that there was more to talk about. She agreed. He know she'd found love in another. And now they could be friends.

"Have a good night," was the warmer response he received. It was progress. Finally for both of them. A conversation. Did he feel sorry for what he did to her? Yes. Did he feel like time had changed things? Yes

After all, it was still 2009. The year of change. And it's never to late to change your life...

its the least i could do.

good night daisy

Only we will know.

Together the friendly 

find their house on a 

wideshot moving back

to restrain a couple 

making strokes on a 

confused canvas, not

knowing where they 

will be tomorrow.

Tonight, after the 

door slid shut, I 

wondered what slipped

into that mind

or what rolled down

those cheeks, or if

I had made a decision 

for the both of us

or I am a terrible person

in a non-sarcastic way this time.

not for bringing you along

but for letting it escape me.

But do not cut the face

out of the photos

or tear the cards or 

forget the number

Do not forget the

trips to the city

or in the music

or across the ocean.

They are not gone

they are not over

Nothing died

Because only we will know.

So do not search for an

empty space under the quilt

It's never empty.

The furnace burns

But only we will know

I go exploring

but never leave 

No.

I never leave

I never die

I haven't yet.

No.

I'm Alive.

"Now that day is over,

night is drawing nigh,
shadows of the evening
steal across the sky.
Now the darkness gathers,
stars begin to peep,
birds, and beasts and flowers

soon will be asleep."

(Lake Cuomo - photo: JCJR)

"La maggior parte della gente vive su un'isola sola,
Perso nel mezzo di un mare nebbioso.
La maggior parte della gente lungamente per un'altra isola,
Uno dove li conoscono gradirà essere.
Bali Ha'i può denominarlo,
Qualsiasi notte, qualsiasi giorno,
Nel vostro cuore, lo sentirete denominarlo:
“Prossimo via… prossimo via.„"

The Five Words.

i never expected
it to work out
or for everything
to fall into place
as it has.
the pieces
all fit together
and in less than
a month i will be living
on another planet.

The moon was such a piercing beam of heat resonating through the glass as the car sped. The contents of that package he received touched him deeply, but it was another package he'd received that hit even closer. The crumply brown paper tore away beneath his fingers revealing the music surrounded by a thin blood red ribbon. Carefully the boy untied the knot of the ribbon, and the knot in his stomach and throat. He knew this was not just another compact disc, but a window into peace. 

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's peaceful," was the adjacent reply in his ears.

But not until the dinner and movie were over did they finally, reunited, get in the car to return home. She slipped the music in the player and it began. The freshness filled the air as she pointed to the full moon, getting his attention.

Without hesitation, the song that they both awaited tuned in. Deep and thick and warm and mournful it wailed and softly stranded itself in the island of her car. He listened. He listened to her voice sing with the resonating voices of the music and the few notes plucked from the guitar as the car sped along. He listened to the silence in the night air outside. He listened to his own thoughts.

"That song hurts me," she spoke with broken tears lightly streaming from her eyes. He could hardly speak, didn't want to break the perfect mist and beauty of the moonbeams. She spoke again:

"I wanna make it last."

He stumbled and stammered for a second. His eyes flicked and was sent back a year and a half ago and his heart fell out of it's skin, something he hadn't remembered since that glorious show. Those words were something almost foreign to him, but his instincts fell over him and he recovered asking "what?"

"I wanna sing 'Make It Last'," she repeated. Those weren't the words he heard though. Or did he just hear her wrong? Or was he trapped by the music in another time and he never actually heard a word, only heard words once spoken to him in another time and place?

Or did he hear perfectly?

To be continued...

"I know I will loose it when

You sign your name and 

send me the pen." 

-slumber

Schedule?

Beginning Italian?

Beginning Painting?

oh boy!!!

Get me outta' here

The airline is booked

the passport is coming

the visa is a mess

and everything else is verified

I don't know what I'm doing

First I started off wanting

to go to another school

and study their

language and their culture

but now, in one night

I've finally realized

that the image I have of

myself is not the image 

I really am. I am not who

I think I am.

Truth.

Its because, in part I'm going away

And now I am.

The image of this trip was originally

for educational purposes and to see the world

Now its for self-discovery

and re-invention

if I am even worthy or 

intelligent enough for that.

Its their turn now, to experience

the curtains & footlights, 

mine outstayed its welcome

and it's my turn to go away.

Far far away.

Luncheons and Weddings

He expected it to be something for his parents regarding taxes or something of the sort. But his name was fancifully scripted on the front, with the return address of her office in the corner. She was out in Tucson today, celebrating a friends wedding. He was just slipping home from a brief luncheon in New York to somehow celebrate someone else's new freedom. Smells had lately brought on a whole new meaning. He was smelling scents of the theatre, of self-discovery, and of a city he'd frequented so many times before with so many wonderful people, including her.

Hesitation flooded his mind. Should he open the package? Should he drive back to the city? He was pressed for time and had to cover a function for the school paper, preventing him from attending a matinee in the city, bringing him to the package earlier than expected.

He left the package on the dining room table to be opened another time. He was committing other things. Great things. Behaviors that he'd only dreamed of. But something inside, something deep beyond one's own self-control make the boy pick up the white envelope and begin to open it. At first, it was tightly sealed, but he tore it apart to find it contents. Closer and closer he was to seeing what it was that she had sent him. He slipped his hand inside the packaging and pulled out a gift. Something he'd never expected. Something that made him, for a brief second, believe otherwise. And his first reaction, his first words, his first utterance after seeing the contents were:

"How...curious."

Sounding like a stranger.

Darkness permeated his bedroom that night. Little glows from his laptop and his stereo but his mind ran dry. Such a passion on her lips but he had nothing left to say. Holding the receiver up to his ear he listened to every word, but never knew his response.

"You sound like a stranger," she uttered

He stayed silent, what words would he say after the year past and the one ahead, with the friend burning through his mind. Tears stream down his face but she would never know it. She would travel across the country the next day and he barely knew how to say good-bye.

"I'm sorry," he barely slipped out.

"Are you on drugs or something?"

"No."

"What did the last week mean? Anything?" she might have begged.

But it was too late for him to speak. It meant the world to him. But his own confusions and wants made it nearly impossible for him to tell her how precious she was. "Will we ever be friends?" he thought, but the words would get caught in his stomach overturning and never make it to his vocal chords.

"Goodnight," she tried to finish with.

"Bye," were his only words.

The phone stayed connected for moments longer, they both listened intently to the silence, the conversation was no where near finish, and neither were they at all. Perhaps waiting for the other to hang up, or for something else.

"Are...are you still there? Good Night," and it was over.

And he hung up the phone as well.

And the days passed, and she flew away, and he lived another life where he reveled in fantasy and perfection of the universe. He didn't know what happened to her or where she was or when she would be back. He thought she had erased herself from his life and he was living in another world. 

When suddenly, a large white envelope arrived on his door step...

You (and YOU)

A few gone years
wondering why i
still felt and looked
like a kid and wishing
I wasn't
but then in our
Fourth time
around
you died
and thats where
i learned that life
was grey and confusing
and i became an adult

The next year we became
closer and you cast me
in a brilliant show and
your genius inside was
exposed and then the
inspiration flowed
and I acted and learned
and lived and learned
where to begin
to examine life
and went beyond
my years and knew things
young men my age never
thought about and i was
an adult with you

The next year
i saw YOU across
a crowded room
and melted into
the next stage of
intimacy and found
companionship
and went to the city
and saw those lights
in that little restaurant
reflecting off OUR glasses
of wine or in my first time
with sushi or my first
absolute and timeless
love affair with YOU and
was taught to write and
keep writing and that
these moments are
what the arts are
made of and what
WE see of each other
is truth beauty freedom
and love and lived
in the adult world
or some fabrication
of it.
YOU said hello
and shared your
thoughts and I've
lost my words
and don't
remember how
to respond or
try friendship
and i want to
to answer
YOUR mess
or confusion
but my mess is
a confusion, that
my silence is more
explained in these
meters of writing
YOU've taught me
to create. where
do i begin, my faults
and lack of communication
is my failed attempt to
for find the order of the
six words i can only
write

I'm sorry but I love you.

But this year
a mere sign of
you finding me
after the years
of trapped thoughts
and now we
lay
prickly
and thin
like kids
in a field of
thankfulness
of the safety of
the universe.

"Beyond the ridge to the west,
the sun had left the sky
Between the trees and pond
you put your hand in mine
Said, “Time has bridled us both
but I remember you, too” i & w

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPod touch]

SJR

Chech out my other blog...
southjerseyrialto.blogspot.com

bop it!

just trying some new blogging software out. Blogpress which I had to pay wayy more for than iBlogger. But it seems like this blogpress can only do about half the things iBlogger can do. Oh well. Show tonight.

-- Posted with Blog Press

The Tale of the Sad Hopeless Young Boy.

I've outstayed my
welcome with them
nothing is right
anymore. such a
pointed flaw early
on. should be done
by now. i can't
stand it, i need
to disappear.
we need to
disappear from
this mayhem,
because the
experienced
do exactly as
they're told
and not
guess...

but out from
the dark stage
out from burning
embarrassing footlights
an unexpected visitor,
and never a stranger
i see the face for a
second and cover my
eyes to fight back
with every morsel
of my anatomy
the bursts of
oceanic tears
i've been
holding
inside for the
longest time.
I don't know
what is happening
to me. whats going
on in my life.
I feel so confused.

But now i open
my eyes and
see the face
of the unexpected
visitor and for
some unexplained
reason, for some
rooted grounding
this sad hopeless
young boy standing
in front of you
staring in disbelief
needs you
more than
ever and kisses
you back with
now no feeling
of utter
despair.
only utter
life with
his head
over top
of his heels
wipes himself
off
and
tries
again.

"Look around and you will see
There's always me." -Elvis.

chordal apology

A day drained
at the upright
away by that
cold sick place
No show on
the pastor so
it's a sing-a-long
with me leading
on the upright
wondering if i'll
ever get out
extending there
and in ever aspect
of my life

A day made
better
at the grand
sitting playing
a few notes
and i approach
sit on the edge
of the bench
and play those
two little chords
bringing me back
to warmer days
of red cowboy boots
and stale cigarettres
no one listened.
except the person
next to me.

"god, that sounds so
familiar like its from
a movie"

"its a song we
used to listen to..."

"i dont remember it"

neither do i

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPod touch]

"Don't walk too close,
don't breathe so soft
Don't talk so sweet,
don't sing" - Don't

thin

holding on
trying
to remember
that "it"
exists
but living
in a sea
of endless
chatter
endless
schedules
endless
moments
of looking off
into space and
not knowing
what to think
wanting so
badly to be
somewhere
else, somewhere
safe and knowing
that this place
prevents it all
if i had control
for a moment
i'd be there
feeling
so fragile
and looking
for some
little
art
or
expression
that might
still
exist
that might
still be
that might
actually
exist
in this
and
finding
a way
out...

"You can be Henry Miller
and Ill be anais nin
Except this time itll be
even better, well stay
together in the end
Come on darlin,
lets go back to bed"
-morning song, J.Kilcher

Letter To the President

Dear Barack:

"I'm just so tickled pink, I don't know why!"
"I didn't vote for him, but looking back, I should have"
"Isn't this one of the greatest things...ever?"

....are just a few of the phrases I heard yesterday.
I just wanted to say: my entire belief system
is based on the mental ability to look at a situation
in a positive light, without the bearings of negativity.
I love seeing people filled with joy, and happiness.
I live for special moments in life that make us smile
make us come together and have a celebration.
And I admire humans who can give other humans
hope and joy and comfort and relief and talk to them
and let them know that they are not alone in this
world and take away their sadness and give them
even the slightest glimmer of happiness in this
crazy world, letting them know that this world
is still truly full of wonderful things.

Furthermore, I believe you and I
are going
to get along
very very well.

-Jim Cook, Jr.

disconnect

looking at next semester
looking at life
looking at what I have to do
and not being ready

looking at the schedule
looking at the lack of time
looking for the
light at the
end of the
lincoln tunnel

looking at the grass
looking at the stone
looking at the face
and looking at what has
happened since the past.

and then suddenly
in the last moment
before i walk to my
car, i hear a word,
not of my own voice,
but of all the times
i've been looking
and of all the signs
and of all the conclusions
i've made, finally a
re-affirmation of
this final attempt
of how much i love
but how much i hold in
and hold back
and seeing what
you feel and holding it in.

disconnect. don't leave
stay, stay close, smile
and be happy and never
speak a sore word or have
a moment of uneasy rest.

just simply
disconnect.

and keep living.
and keep looking
and keep listening
and always see.

"ring out the bells again
like we did when spring began"
happy 21st birthday
i hope at some point
i will or have made
myself
someone
else's
hero...

paint

Winter break

I need to start back
Winter break is everything
but uninspired during the day
and thinking like a madman
at night

Books
Torino
Flatiron
Piano
Play

"I was thinking
That it might do some good
To rob the
Cynics" j.k.

2009, Year of Change.