I left on a mission and went missing for a minute
Now that's the long and the short of it depending how you spin it
Walked miles of concrete till my feets numbed out
Took the last sip of water when my heart went drought
Passed out gassed out fell to the ground
Gasped for your love but I couldn't make a sound
I felt my eyes shut and my chest stopped heavin'
Thought that was the sound of my guilty soul fleein'
From the shell of the body of a stubborn human bein'
I went in peace everybody and I guess I'll be leavin'
Then it got real cold and I was up and running
From an unknown terror deadly dark and cunning
My legs felt heavy and my shoulders dipped low
When I spun in a panic not knowing where to go
I was stuck in a void of bubbling tar
A black tidal wave, under ultraviolet stars
There were shackles on my ankles and wrists bound in brambles
But in the distance was a glow, aflicker like a candle
Slowly it approached as I tried to twist free
I got to get free...just gotta get free
I let the thorns stick me but eluded their grasp
And I tugged my legs free when I shattered them clasps
I dove into the sea and swam to the light
Stroke by stroke right (GASP) left (GASP) right (GASP)
Before I knew it I was engulfed in flaming assault
My cheeks felt warm and my skin dried in salt
Forcing a look, I squinted to see
That the fire that I found was inside of me
The onyx skies fell and diamonds glittered in the air
Eyelids translucent orange from the solar glare
Light flooded the abyss and the night was gone
And not long after I awoke to a song.
You were stroking my brow and kissing my head
I was awake in your arms, safe in our bed
I knew where I was and I knew I'd never leave
It was the sound of your voice that rescued me
The fire was your love, the diamonds were were your eyes
The chains that restrained were made of lies
The escape from my fears caused my release
All along insecurity was my captivating beast
You pulled me from the hole, you saved my soul
Took the pieces of a man and made me whole
Your love is my redemption I know it's overdue
Now every time the sun rises I know it's 'cause of you
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Maybe See the Sun
Another leaf falls off the tree of time
So here I am, wonder why, push or pull, live or die
Better days ahead or head full of sorrow
Seize or slip away, are tomorrows owned or borrowed
Stars are shooting off into a great abyss
Is it because they never felt the rapture of a wish?
Do they crash down to earth on the weight of the world?
Does the world crash down in spite of us all?
Steady gather speed, is the spark all we need?
Do you feed off desire?
Do all experiences inspire?
Is the flame doused... by tears of frustration?
What do you do in a desperate situation?
I can wring my hands and exhale to no avail
No one's here to rescue you, that ship has sailed
No one's gonna come and and pull you out the shell
Lost when my thoughts fell down the ink well
I'll wake up tomorrow but will breath be sweet?
Will I feel fortunate to break this sleep?
Does the rich man count his blessings or his bills?
Does the poor man count his pennies or his ills?
I can count to ten and convince myself again
That maybe it's a funk and hope it's not a trend
I can count to five and smile one more time
Cause despite all the pain I'm priceless and alive
I can count to one and maybe see the sun
Maybe see the sun, maybe then I'll see the sun
So here I am, wonder why, push or pull, live or die
Better days ahead or head full of sorrow
Seize or slip away, are tomorrows owned or borrowed
Stars are shooting off into a great abyss
Is it because they never felt the rapture of a wish?
Do they crash down to earth on the weight of the world?
Does the world crash down in spite of us all?
Steady gather speed, is the spark all we need?
Do you feed off desire?
Do all experiences inspire?
Is the flame doused... by tears of frustration?
What do you do in a desperate situation?
I can wring my hands and exhale to no avail
No one's here to rescue you, that ship has sailed
No one's gonna come and and pull you out the shell
Lost when my thoughts fell down the ink well
I'll wake up tomorrow but will breath be sweet?
Will I feel fortunate to break this sleep?
Does the rich man count his blessings or his bills?
Does the poor man count his pennies or his ills?
I can count to ten and convince myself again
That maybe it's a funk and hope it's not a trend
I can count to five and smile one more time
Cause despite all the pain I'm priceless and alive
I can count to one and maybe see the sun
Maybe see the sun, maybe then I'll see the sun
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Michelle Obamanon
She's the first lady of the United States. She's an well-educated strong woman and mother. She's a fashion icon. Put them in any order you wish.
It's not often clear which of these statements our country seems to put the most value in. Are our priorities screwed up? Sure. There is sincere admiration jumbled up with superficial wardrobe warbling. The amazing thing about Michelle Obama is that you can put her on any magazine cover and it makes sense. Her appeal lies in the understanding that she is real. To many Americans, she does not seem to occupy that idyllic existence that previous first ladies seemed to reside. Maybe it's because she has attitude, and that's what we need when times are tough. Maybe it's because she is youthful and vibrant with young children. Perhaps the Boomers pine for a return to Camelot, the X-ers love change, and the young first time voters are more blind to old prejudices. Whatever it is, it works in a way that is hasn't before. Just look back at a few recent first ladies and the disconnect is obvious.
Laura Bush came off as aloof and doting.
Hillary Clinton was scorn personified.
Barbara Bush was basically first grandma.
Who wants gingersnaps?
How could you not look good in comparison? The difference with Mrs. Obama is that she isn't just Mrs. Obama. Unlike the three polarizing former first ladies, she doesn't come off as inferior to her President husband. You could argue that Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign voids this statement but then you get this:
How crazy is it that Michelle Obama is seen as equal to the President? I don't think there has been anything like this since Elanor Roosevelt. (I don't think anyone was talking about Mrs. Roosevelt's arms though.)
It is tiresome though. Just because she wears a cardigan sweater from J.Crew the world doesn't need to stop breathing. Milan is not sweating this one out. The effusive coverage has reached the point to where I question if this is how the first lady really is, or if the Obamas are just as exceptionally savvy at branding themselves as they were of the President's victorious campaign. I suppose using the attention to promote positive endeavors like community service and healthy living is admirable. Stuff like this is just so cringe worthy though.
Ack!
Hmph.
Really?
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Grilled Cheese Sandwich
You are wonderful.
Velvety golden and calcium rich, I'm not sure who melts more..you or I. Nestled between two buttery pieces of spatula smushed bread, you are the ultimate lazy and satisfying hot sandwich. Everyone wants to be near you. The potato chips. The tomato soup. The crispy pickle spear. It is you grilled cheese that steals the show.
There are many ways to make a grilled cheese sandwich. It is a customizable comfort food of delicious proportions. American, Cheddar, Jack (Swiss is more of a complimentary cheese - serves you right for being neutral), all are fine. Butter the bread or not. It's up to you. Fluffy or flattened. Cut in half or diagonal. Coupled with bacon, tomato, turkey, ham, or any other veg or formerly alive meat, the grilled cheese is a satisfying piece of gooey business.
I have many fond memories constructing and devouring grilled cheese sandwiches. I mourn the loss of The New York Milkshake Company formerly of St. Mark's Place, which had the most wonderful pressed grilled cheese sandwiches. They were a bit pricey but of a pretty decent size. My favorite was the cheddar & jack with bacon partnered with a strawberry shake. Weak knees.
Everyone likes their grilled cheese sandwich differently. Of course, we always think the way we make it is the best. When preparing a grilled cheese in the presence of others, you are guaranteed many opinions and insights, not that you will listen to any of them.
"You need white bread."
"Butter is better than margarine"
"The tomato should go between the slices of cheese."
We've heard them all and ignored them all. And that is what is so cool about a grilled cheese, it's good every way you make them. Except one.
It happened in my kitchen. I was getting something to drink when I saw something in the toaster. Hmmm? Slowly approaching, I make my way over to the transparent toaster window. My eyebrows went up. Eyes went cross. Mouth speechless and ajar. In my head a booming voice, "What the hell is this?"
As I am staring the basement door opens and out comes my father's secretary who along with her small son had come over to pick up some work she would be completing at home. She makes her way over to the toaster and inquires to her child, "Ready for your grilled cheese?"
GASP!
This is not a grilled cheese sandwich. It is one piece of bread with a piece of cheese melting over the buttered side of the bread. It was awful and plastic looking and was nor grilled or a sandwich. It was a baked blob of cheesy rubber. While I stood agape, she removed the monstrosity from the toaster oven and proceeded to knife the crust off. Yeah, that'll make it much better. She then brought it over to her child, proud of her creation, and placed it before him. He would eat it. He's a child and he's hungry, and damn it, he didn't know any better. I felt sorry for that child. He actually thought that he was eating a grilled cheese sandwich. All I saw was meal abuse. Mom, guilty on all charges.
That child is probably a teenager now. I hope he knows better. I hope he finds it in his heart to forgive his mother.
The grilled cheese sandwich is a wonderful thing. It is tasty, and filling, and fun. It's not just a sandwich, it's an experience. It is love. You see, you haven't been loved until someone has made a grilled cheese sandwich for you. A grilled cheese says everything. It's love, it's friendship, it's caring, it's a little slice of them, shared with you.
So the next time someone makes you a grilled cheese, kiss them. That is someone who cares because they have just given you something wonderful.
And if they give you a baked cheese blob, it's probably over.
*UPDATE* Much to my surprise and excitement, The New York Milkshake Company has returned. I'm only two years late discovering this. Yes, it is alive and well but at a much different location. Very exciting news. A trip must be made.
Velvety golden and calcium rich, I'm not sure who melts more..you or I. Nestled between two buttery pieces of spatula smushed bread, you are the ultimate lazy and satisfying hot sandwich. Everyone wants to be near you. The potato chips. The tomato soup. The crispy pickle spear. It is you grilled cheese that steals the show.
There are many ways to make a grilled cheese sandwich. It is a customizable comfort food of delicious proportions. American, Cheddar, Jack (Swiss is more of a complimentary cheese - serves you right for being neutral), all are fine. Butter the bread or not. It's up to you. Fluffy or flattened. Cut in half or diagonal. Coupled with bacon, tomato, turkey, ham, or any other veg or formerly alive meat, the grilled cheese is a satisfying piece of gooey business.
I have many fond memories constructing and devouring grilled cheese sandwiches. I mourn the loss of The New York Milkshake Company formerly of St. Mark's Place, which had the most wonderful pressed grilled cheese sandwiches. They were a bit pricey but of a pretty decent size. My favorite was the cheddar & jack with bacon partnered with a strawberry shake. Weak knees.
Everyone likes their grilled cheese sandwich differently. Of course, we always think the way we make it is the best. When preparing a grilled cheese in the presence of others, you are guaranteed many opinions and insights, not that you will listen to any of them.
"You need white bread."
"Butter is better than margarine"
"The tomato should go between the slices of cheese."
We've heard them all and ignored them all. And that is what is so cool about a grilled cheese, it's good every way you make them. Except one.
It happened in my kitchen. I was getting something to drink when I saw something in the toaster. Hmmm? Slowly approaching, I make my way over to the transparent toaster window. My eyebrows went up. Eyes went cross. Mouth speechless and ajar. In my head a booming voice, "What the hell is this?"
As I am staring the basement door opens and out comes my father's secretary who along with her small son had come over to pick up some work she would be completing at home. She makes her way over to the toaster and inquires to her child, "Ready for your grilled cheese?"
GASP!
This is not a grilled cheese sandwich. It is one piece of bread with a piece of cheese melting over the buttered side of the bread. It was awful and plastic looking and was nor grilled or a sandwich. It was a baked blob of cheesy rubber. While I stood agape, she removed the monstrosity from the toaster oven and proceeded to knife the crust off. Yeah, that'll make it much better. She then brought it over to her child, proud of her creation, and placed it before him. He would eat it. He's a child and he's hungry, and damn it, he didn't know any better. I felt sorry for that child. He actually thought that he was eating a grilled cheese sandwich. All I saw was meal abuse. Mom, guilty on all charges.
That child is probably a teenager now. I hope he knows better. I hope he finds it in his heart to forgive his mother.
The grilled cheese sandwich is a wonderful thing. It is tasty, and filling, and fun. It's not just a sandwich, it's an experience. It is love. You see, you haven't been loved until someone has made a grilled cheese sandwich for you. A grilled cheese says everything. It's love, it's friendship, it's caring, it's a little slice of them, shared with you.
So the next time someone makes you a grilled cheese, kiss them. That is someone who cares because they have just given you something wonderful.
And if they give you a baked cheese blob, it's probably over.
*UPDATE* Much to my surprise and excitement, The New York Milkshake Company has returned. I'm only two years late discovering this. Yes, it is alive and well but at a much different location. Very exciting news. A trip must be made.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Man on a Wall
For centuries, masculinity has been measured a plethora of ways. One constant is the pursuit and capture of the beast. You hunt it, you capture it, and you use it for sustenance.
Then you hang it on the wall.
That 38 point buck hanging on the wall says everything about your man-skills without even opening it's petrified mouth. We ain't talking about no Country Bear Jamboree here!
Since many of us are running low on bison jerky, man has searched for a new way to advertise just how damn awesome he is. For the urban male, zooicide is no longer an option and dragging one's mate buy the hair is severely frowned upon anywhere corn isn't the major field crop. Chest hair is a statement, as is a motorcycle, but how did that work out that guy in the Village People? You could grill meat every time someone came over your house, but....you know what? That could work, but it's just too much of an effort. What we need is something that makes a statement. We need something that stares you right in the face and says, "Are you ready for some football!?"
The year was 1998 and for $8,000.00 a man could once again assert his dominance over others. Men became men again when the first flat screen TV was mounted to a living room wall.
Not since the long curvy fence in China, did a wall garner more attention and respect. Hung in the most prominent place in the home, the flat screen TV pulls people in, inspires jealousy, and increases your popularity by infinite proportions. People will call you just to sit in your house. YOUR testosterone fueled house. People will come over and watch nature documentaries and admire you more than the African Lion. You ARE Shark Week.
People will come over to consume the charred carcasses of weaker species and watch 300lb. behemoths crash into each other. They will cringe at every bone-jarring collision, and shout ,"Man Up!" when the crimson ribbons of battle trickle down the combatants brow. And you will be the man.
With this glorious invention, your won't be able to tell if Nic Cage is as badass as this kid. They both have the same amount of actual hair.
The flat screen TV makes you official. So you work as a dynamite blaster, bought a house with a fire pit as big as a VW bug, married a cheerleader, and regularly drink out of those helmets that fit two beer cans in them. Still not certified man. When you put a TV on a wall, you my dude are Clint freakin' Eastwood.
A dark day will soon come. One of your friends will buy the newest and latest. Your living room will become a wasteland of solitude (unless you are roasting a whole pig). Friends will abandon you, calling the new big shot and congratulating him like he delivered his own child and cut the umbilical cord with his own teeth. Pretty soon you'll be sitting on your couch watching Saved By the Bell re-runs, wondering where it all went wrong. You'll say, "Honey, I think there's something wrong with the TV. Maybe we need a new one." The intentional silence will be deafening. You will be the loneliest man in the world.
"Everything can be taken from a man but ...the last of the human freedoms - to choose
one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."
- Viktor E. Frankl
Part of being a man is admitting that you don't need anything to tell what you are. Things are fleeting. Remember when Jim Soandso bought that Quad. And then broke his face. Now he looks like a flounder. Tim's lazerdisc collection sure was cutting edge. Don't know how I ever lived without one of these.
A job beats down on you, taking away your vitality. The stresses of the world envelop and choke you until your left looking up at the ceiling wondering what happened. We buy these fancy toys to buttress our flagging spirits, to distract us from the world, and to validate our hard work. They make us happy and they eschew in us a simple pride. Nothing wrong with feeling good. It's important to remember that stuff is only stuff, no matter how new or cool it is.
No one would have come over your house to watch your TV if you were a jerk. They are there because you are a friend, someone who is living in the same high-stress, oft-thankless world as they are. They are there because you picked them up off the floor when they were drunk and got themback to the dorm. They are there because you gave a great toast at their wedding. They are there because you helped them move into their first houses. They are there because despite what you have on your wall, you were already the man.
Then you hang it on the wall.
That 38 point buck hanging on the wall says everything about your man-skills without even opening it's petrified mouth. We ain't talking about no Country Bear Jamboree here!
Since many of us are running low on bison jerky, man has searched for a new way to advertise just how damn awesome he is. For the urban male, zooicide is no longer an option and dragging one's mate buy the hair is severely frowned upon anywhere corn isn't the major field crop. Chest hair is a statement, as is a motorcycle, but how did that work out that guy in the Village People? You could grill meat every time someone came over your house, but....you know what? That could work, but it's just too much of an effort. What we need is something that makes a statement. We need something that stares you right in the face and says, "Are you ready for some football!?"
The year was 1998 and for $8,000.00 a man could once again assert his dominance over others. Men became men again when the first flat screen TV was mounted to a living room wall.
Not since the long curvy fence in China, did a wall garner more attention and respect. Hung in the most prominent place in the home, the flat screen TV pulls people in, inspires jealousy, and increases your popularity by infinite proportions. People will call you just to sit in your house. YOUR testosterone fueled house. People will come over and watch nature documentaries and admire you more than the African Lion. You ARE Shark Week.
People will come over to consume the charred carcasses of weaker species and watch 300lb. behemoths crash into each other. They will cringe at every bone-jarring collision, and shout ,"Man Up!" when the crimson ribbons of battle trickle down the combatants brow. And you will be the man.
With this glorious invention, your won't be able to tell if Nic Cage is as badass as this kid. They both have the same amount of actual hair.
The flat screen TV makes you official. So you work as a dynamite blaster, bought a house with a fire pit as big as a VW bug, married a cheerleader, and regularly drink out of those helmets that fit two beer cans in them. Still not certified man. When you put a TV on a wall, you my dude are Clint freakin' Eastwood.
A dark day will soon come. One of your friends will buy the newest and latest. Your living room will become a wasteland of solitude (unless you are roasting a whole pig). Friends will abandon you, calling the new big shot and congratulating him like he delivered his own child and cut the umbilical cord with his own teeth. Pretty soon you'll be sitting on your couch watching Saved By the Bell re-runs, wondering where it all went wrong. You'll say, "Honey, I think there's something wrong with the TV. Maybe we need a new one." The intentional silence will be deafening. You will be the loneliest man in the world.
"Everything can be taken from a man but ...the last of the human freedoms - to choose
one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."
- Viktor E. Frankl
Part of being a man is admitting that you don't need anything to tell what you are. Things are fleeting. Remember when Jim Soandso bought that Quad. And then broke his face. Now he looks like a flounder. Tim's lazerdisc collection sure was cutting edge. Don't know how I ever lived without one of these.
A job beats down on you, taking away your vitality. The stresses of the world envelop and choke you until your left looking up at the ceiling wondering what happened. We buy these fancy toys to buttress our flagging spirits, to distract us from the world, and to validate our hard work. They make us happy and they eschew in us a simple pride. Nothing wrong with feeling good. It's important to remember that stuff is only stuff, no matter how new or cool it is.
No one would have come over your house to watch your TV if you were a jerk. They are there because you are a friend, someone who is living in the same high-stress, oft-thankless world as they are. They are there because you picked them up off the floor when they were drunk and got themback to the dorm. They are there because you gave a great toast at their wedding. They are there because you helped them move into their first houses. They are there because despite what you have on your wall, you were already the man.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Hidden
A liar's solace lays in silence
Hidden habits steeped in shyness
Embarrassed by things that aren't major
Leads to subvert slick behavior
Favor pushing things aside
Blind to truth or questioned pride
So protected from one's self
So apart from someone else
Repent for all the false agendas
Nothing ventured by pretenders
Being yourself will set you free
Opened up for others to see
Judged by those who too have vices
Opens us up to human devices
Honesty should be the place to start
Wary is a heavy heart
Tension turns to moral scars
Imprisoned behind self imposed bars
So exhale, get up, leave lies behind
Can't press rewind but we gotta try
Hidden habits steeped in shyness
Embarrassed by things that aren't major
Leads to subvert slick behavior
Favor pushing things aside
Blind to truth or questioned pride
So protected from one's self
So apart from someone else
Repent for all the false agendas
Nothing ventured by pretenders
Being yourself will set you free
Opened up for others to see
Judged by those who too have vices
Opens us up to human devices
Honesty should be the place to start
Wary is a heavy heart
Tension turns to moral scars
Imprisoned behind self imposed bars
So exhale, get up, leave lies behind
Can't press rewind but we gotta try
Monday, August 10, 2009
I Compel You
Where did I grab you?
You see, you've got to care. You have to have the impulse. Do you feel?
I was watching the finals of "Next Food Network Star" yesterday. During the finale, they aired pitches shows by each of the two final contestants in which a pilot demo was filmed. The male finalist did a show based on spices, in that he finds obscure spices from around the world and shows you how to incorporate them into recipe. The female finalist, who went on to win, used the busy mom who must prepare good food quick and easy route. In actuality, I enjoyed the guy's concept better, as I have never heard of a show like this. The woman's show did not seem unique. In fact she was even compared to Rachel Ray buy the judges.
Watching this show made me think about angles and what draws people to you. For me, the guy was better because he was teaching. He was introducing something I did not know about in a new way. That drew me in. As for the woman, while not original, she has the camaraderie factor going for her. She didn't draw me in because I am not a parent. I do not have to cook for a family. Her show is very mom-centric and I'm not a mom. It doesn't mean her idea is wrong, it just means I'm not investing.
This brings me to us. Every aspect of our lives is a hook. How do we draw our wives, husbands, boyfriends, or girlfriends in? When interviewing for a job, what is that connective inside that makes a potential employer your new boss? At family parties, why do you always make the pie?
You have to have something that is missing. If it's not missing, no one is going to care about it. Even better, make someone realize that the weren't even thinking about what was missing, but that you've got it and now they can't live, work, or play without it. I want you to want me.
Easier said than done. Sometimes you are not sure what it is that separates you. You may feel completely status quo. That just won't do. You have to be the need. The next step is to find where your need is supposed to be. There is no sense in being needed if you do not want to be needed by the needers. Follow me?
There has to be a symbioses. In order for anything to work, there has to be a mutual desire. Both parties have to feel fulfilled. It is an elusive synergy to be sure, but it is out there. I do not relish sounding so preachy or fancy myself a life coach, and I am aware that this may read in that vein, but it is the truth. It is emotional and actual commodity. Supply and demand will draw your market.
So what do you got that makes you so darn interesting? Someone is waiting out there for it.
You see, you've got to care. You have to have the impulse. Do you feel?
I was watching the finals of "Next Food Network Star" yesterday. During the finale, they aired pitches shows by each of the two final contestants in which a pilot demo was filmed. The male finalist did a show based on spices, in that he finds obscure spices from around the world and shows you how to incorporate them into recipe. The female finalist, who went on to win, used the busy mom who must prepare good food quick and easy route. In actuality, I enjoyed the guy's concept better, as I have never heard of a show like this. The woman's show did not seem unique. In fact she was even compared to Rachel Ray buy the judges.
Watching this show made me think about angles and what draws people to you. For me, the guy was better because he was teaching. He was introducing something I did not know about in a new way. That drew me in. As for the woman, while not original, she has the camaraderie factor going for her. She didn't draw me in because I am not a parent. I do not have to cook for a family. Her show is very mom-centric and I'm not a mom. It doesn't mean her idea is wrong, it just means I'm not investing.
This brings me to us. Every aspect of our lives is a hook. How do we draw our wives, husbands, boyfriends, or girlfriends in? When interviewing for a job, what is that connective inside that makes a potential employer your new boss? At family parties, why do you always make the pie?
You have to have something that is missing. If it's not missing, no one is going to care about it. Even better, make someone realize that the weren't even thinking about what was missing, but that you've got it and now they can't live, work, or play without it. I want you to want me.
Easier said than done. Sometimes you are not sure what it is that separates you. You may feel completely status quo. That just won't do. You have to be the need. The next step is to find where your need is supposed to be. There is no sense in being needed if you do not want to be needed by the needers. Follow me?
There has to be a symbioses. In order for anything to work, there has to be a mutual desire. Both parties have to feel fulfilled. It is an elusive synergy to be sure, but it is out there. I do not relish sounding so preachy or fancy myself a life coach, and I am aware that this may read in that vein, but it is the truth. It is emotional and actual commodity. Supply and demand will draw your market.
So what do you got that makes you so darn interesting? Someone is waiting out there for it.
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