When The Music Stops

when the music stops…
last note from the last song fades into the background
the album’s spin is through…

that’s when you hear the sound
of an echo turning blue

then you feel the freeze
colder than the arctic

silence

a lead-footed frost nips at your ears
’cause there’s no sound
to muffle the splashing of your tears

Loneliness Is Such A Drag. My Life vs Yours.

I brought in the Year of our lord 2014 alone in my car with a can of strawberry flavored margarita beer (don’t drink & drive, kids) and Guns ‘N Roses singing about a city of paradise on the radio in the background. I had started the evening with the highest hopes. Without hesitiation, it could be said that 2013 was by far the most trying year so far for me and I had planned on spending the evening surrounded by loved ones and their familiar smiling faces.  I had been invited to 3 different parties & I picked the party one of my dearest friends invited me to. After spending an hour picking out an outfit that passed my inspection and trepidatiously plucking my eyebrows to a perfect arch, I arrived at the party. It started off nicely enough but through a series of misadventures, ended with me on the side of the road unaccompanied with cheap liquor.

7 months later & not much has changed. I power through my work obligations and come home, isolating myself in my room with the very same 25oz cans of strawberry margarita beers, sometimes deciding to mix it up and go with the raspberry or lime flavors. So much so that there a plethora of gas stations, bars, and liquor stores that I can walk into with a fistful of cash, leaving my wallet with my ID in the car, and walk out with a stockpile of liquid merchandise to adequately dope me enough to forget my problems for a little while.

This spring, I spent many of my days off from work walking up and down the one of the busiest streets in Columbus, hoping to meet someone, anyone, to become friends with. Someone to strike up a conversation with, hit it off, and go off and have some kind of adventure.

Ha. Folks I’m not telling you this for any sort of pity or sympathy. This is just the reality of things.

Have you ever seen a very attractive person? Not only attractive because of physical features. But how they walk, confidently moving one leg in front of the next, with a bounce in their strut. How they make direct eye contact while talking. Their outfit well coordinated and perfectly broadcasting to the world their full self. You look at them and see no trace of self doubt. You look at them and wonder: Goddamn, they are beautiful. What do I look like to someone like that? Am I even a blip on their radar? What are they like once they get home & turn off their public persona? Are they the same? What are they thinking about right now? Do they even realize how good they look & awesome they appear to be right now?

And then you realize it’s been way too long that you’ve just been standing there and staring at them, look away and sigh.

For as long as I can remember it’s just been Me vs. The World, in my mind anyway. Me against them. That’s how it feels anyway. Oh, the amount of years I’ve spent contemplating what it is that I’m doing wrong. Why I don’t seem to fit into any group and why I seem to scare away anyone I come in contact with. Is it because they don’t really know me or we drift apart because they do and don’t like what they see?

Whatever the case maybe, the fact of the matter is, I’m still alone. So very, very alone. Desperately grabbing on to virtually any mood altering substance I get my hands on to distract myself from that fact.

I don’t want your fucking pity. I can hear you saying “Aww…” as you read this and you can stuff that reaction into a sack and mail it to someone who needs it. Because I don’t need sympathy, it doesn’t do any good to anyone.

With all that said, I continue to burn the midnight lamp. With the ever falling dust that makes it so hard for me to see my optimism facing coldly towards the bedroom door that I’ve concealed myself in.

Gee, this post was kind of a downer, huh? I’ll leave y’all with a joke.

Why did 6 want to fuck 7?
Because 7 eight ass.

Cheers.