Broadripple is Burning

7 years ago to the day, I awoke at 4 AM in a blanket sweat. A sensation of panic and uncertainty had taken control of my body and I was clueless as to how to ascribe this sensation and the accompanying emotion to any one set of events in my life. I had hardly slept all night and the overwhelming restlessness exhausted my body but kept my heart racing. Minutes later my mother came into my room in fragile state, holding whatever composure she could ascertain to pass on a simple yet devastating message. I knew something was wrong as soon as she made eye contact.

My grandfather, my idol and my hero, had died earlier in the night.

I will always remember the uneasiness that sat in the pit of my stomach from the moment she spoke those words. It is one of those episodes that we all have in life that forever change the complexion of what we are as human. Births, deaths, and other momentous occasions often have this impact on personality and our growth as people. Greater still, was the fact that this is the type of impact my grandfather had on me not only in death, but also throughout the brief 14 year period in which our lives overlapped.

I suppose the general ideals I gleaned from him are basic: honor is in effort; careers are made for self-fulfillment, callings are made for selfless-contribution; holding back in anything is either poor planning or preparation for failure, a will is single most powerful tool of man… I have a number of these that could easily be structured into a life plan for success. But that was the man that he was. I had never known him to fail in anything or to falter in the strength of his determination. He was a man that stayed up for consecutive days without aid or caffeine simply to prove that he could. He was also the same man that peacefully protested an oppressive British government and was imprisoned as a result of his conviction. That was just who he was, the personification of will.

He died in his sleep that night due to complications with his heart health and a continuing struggle with diabetes. It’s almost like he waited to pass on that night. The curious fact that I’ve failed to mention to this point is that the anniversary of his death is also my grandmother’s birthday. Maybe it’s just the romantic in me, but I believe he waited until my grandmother could say she spent another full year of her life with the man she loved. And so after the stroke of midnight, he let his body relax.

He gave up his constant resistance and loosened his will to push back against his infirmity. And perhaps for the first time in all the years I had known him, he let the strength of his conviction waver and so he slipped into the darkness while everyone slept. Of course that’s just speculation. Maybe that is how it happened. I prefer to think he accomplished his goal of surviving that one last day and there was almost nothing left for him to accomplish. I know that if he had willed anything else, he would have found a way for it to happen.

In actuality, I suppose some spirited form of him still resolves to carry out goals through manifesting himself in my actions. A ghostly variety of his conscience or what is virtually an overwhelming essence of my ethics already infects my decisions on a regular basis. And I can honestly say I’m ever-so-proud of that. I hope that when I pass, those I leave behind can hold me close in the same way.

Double Murder Ballad Suicide

foreigner

someday
when oceans roll between us
a memory will be made
instantaneously
distance will shatter
youll look to the west
ill look east
time will dissolve
and for one perfect moment
nothingness
will be more than captivating

One Slowdance

I pulled this from some old notebooks I was going through and wanted to put it up somewhere again. By the way, I desperately miss Rufio. They had such an amazing sound. *Tears*

She

She keeps a clothesline around her neck
In what she will claim is just an attempt
At keeping you honest, at keeping you at bay
But the look in her eyes might say love, but it spells contempt

She's the kind of girl that will ruin you life
Half way down the block before she thinks twice
One look, turn the corner to see you sweat
If ever you thought different, it was never tonight

Give a 99.9 or less than your share
Anything less than one-oh-one means nothing at all
Can't live with, but won't let live without
Remember, I warned you, she said "remember I cared"

This isn't addiction, it's a sign of despair
Relinquish control? What control was ever there?
It's her pacification and claims to try and help
The self-satiation seeps from her skin

She'll state it quite clear, quiet though it may seem
She's lining the docket with all of these things
Coordinating her purpose and your ill advice
With out a word or whimper, she'll slip into the night

You'll wake up one day, with it all laid out plain
She's taken your will and you'll never be the same
With her, it's give all you have, there is us and not you
Until the day that you wake and you realize it's through

Lullaby

It's the way that you blush when you're nervous.
It's your ability to make me earn this.
I know that you're tired, just let me sing you to sleep.
It's about how you laugh out of pity, 'Cause lets be honest I'm not really that funny.
I know that you're shot, just let me sing you to sleep.

If you need anything, just the say the word.
I mean anything.
Rest assured, if you start to doze, then I'll tuck you in,
Plant my lips where your necklaces close.

I don't know exactly what it is about this song, but the raw emotion and energy it possesses cut through me like a knife composed purely of former loves and buried heartbreaks. Reading the lyrics alone is enough to bring my thoughts to a stand still and my heart rate to an idle. Perhaps it just strikes a certain nerve that normally lays dormant, layered beneath sheets of defenses constructed solely to prevent this sort of visceral and openly deep reaction. Yet this softly sung and simply crafted tune burrows beneath all that to affect me and illicit the most natural of reactions. If I actually focus on each verse and the powerful blend of pain and love in Nick Thomas' voice, I shed a tear and need a minute to regroup.


It's those pills that you don't need to take,
medicating perfection, now that's a mistake.
I know that you're spent, just let me sing you to sleep.
It's your finger and how I'm wrapped around it.
It's your grace and how it keeps me grounded.
I know that you're weak, just let me sing you to sleep.

If you need anything, just the say the word.
I mean anything.
Rest assured, if you start to doze, then I'll tuck you in,
Plant my lips where your necklaces close.

I know I'm flawed, almost literally to a fatal extent, in falling for girls that are flawed in their own right. My mother and my best girl friends all point to my nurturing nature as some sort of backwards reasoning for this. More often than not, the girl who has issues that she is working through is more attractive than the average plain Jane. It's not that I find girls that have it together boring, it's more that girls who are working through something seem more real. Unfortunately or fortunately enough this also gives way to an interesting common ground between us.

This song seems particularly poignant in reference to two of my past relationships. The latter was with a girl who consistently self-medicated in hopes of dealing with her limitless stress and anxiety. In fact, we both did, but months after I had gotten in control and clean (thanks to an enormous amount of support from her), she would still fall into stretches of chaotic mess. This song speaks to those long nights sitting beside her and wiping her brow as she sweat endlessly and came down from her highs. As much as that ended as a relationship of convenience, whenever I hear this song I think of writing her an e-mail and seeing how med-school is treating her. I can't believe that same girl, the one with disdain for the world and her heart full of hurt, is going to be such a noble and astute contributor to society within months... but I digress.

While you were sleeping I figured out everything,
I was constructed for you, and you were molded for me.
Now I feel your name, coursing through my veins.
You shine so bright it's insane, you put the sun to shame.

It's this last verse that fuels the fire that still burns for an old flame (read: will it ever go out?). The sweetness of its composition and the passion in Thomas' voice as he strains over each vowel and consonant brings only thoughts of her to my mind. Granted her troubles sprouted after our relationship ended and most probably, in part, due to the strain that our relationship, or more specifically I , put on her mental state. But I can't help but feel a unpronounceable connection to these lyrics and the melody draws me back to a more unstable time when I knew exactly what she was going through but was forced apart from her.

Despite miles and years, I will always hold an unusual bond to her. I can speak truly and purely and say she has been my one true love, at least thus far. Her face and name course through my every breath and every pulse of my heart despite how suppressed I keep them. In some sense it is because she is me, I am her. We were young and foolish but together we shaped out the depths of each others personalities. She cut me into the mold of better man with her love and forced me in that mold with our parting. When I meet the girl I want to make my wife, even she will know that this first love has carved me into what I am today.

Through many nights I lie awake thinking of what she might have been doing. Most night I know she is ultimately happy. Other nights I tremble knowing that she is going through some pain. Occasionally she will call me on such nights, and while it hurts to know she is down, it feels good to know she is not out. It's on these nights that this song plays through on silently through my head.

We've gotten quite distant in the past three years. In fact I wonder if I'd recognize how much she's grown since. I know I'd still love her. I still love the core of what makes her who she is. Despite it all, rightly or wrongly, I know that to this day I know that if ever comes a time that she needs me, I would do anything for her. I mean anything.

Pictures of Success

Simply because I'm tripped out on decongestants and clonazapam tonight, here is a list of words that i find endlessly amusing for one reason or another:

• adjudicate
• ambivalently
• superciliousness
• congruency
• proselytizer
• turgidity
• emulsification
• maladroitness
• torridness
• turophile
• zymurgy
• hirsute
• pogonotrophy

There are probably a couple dozen more, but now I'm sleepy...

Kings & Queens

falling into you again

these feelings are repetitious.
ive known them before, ill soon know them again.
factory produced and mass manufactured.
a feeling of satisfaction and overwhelming resentment.
i can't control this outpouring of utter devotion.
i love you and i hate you all the same.
you do this to me, only you can do this to me.
im stronger than this, im so feeble it scares me.
brittle and broken. trust me, i cant trust a thing.
open me up with a butter knife, see what inhuman looks like.
stolen pieces of broken hearts and sharp objects i dare not touch.
cauterized with a hot iron and closed up with tape.
hold me together with pins and needles for one more day.
hold me together for one more day.
hold me together.
hold me.

The Skin Of My Yellow Country Teeth

After nearly a month of planning it out, the boys and I are hitting Atlantic City this weekend. We plan on getting on the road right after work today and to put it plainly, I couldn't be more 'cised'.

It's not so much of the actual events that will unfold upon getting to AC, but more of the feeling of adventure and road tripping that has me so excited. Given the very nature of these experiences, I love road trips. I actually feel deprived that I haven't been on one in nearly 6 months. At one point in my life 6 weeks was the longest span I could go without feeling the urge to feast on the raw emotional surge that accompanies such treks.

There is a hardly a feeling that compares to that which presents itself when first embarking on a road trip. It is a equal parts concoction of all things magical in life. A fusion of known and unknown which may serve as a reflection and microcosm of life itself. It is the journey itself, regardless of the fruits it may bear at its conceivable endpoint, that holds the most value. While the results may be far below or above expectations, the thrill of reaching the destination and the curiosity of what may lie ahead is what holds the most value in a road trip. That simple truth is not unlike the reality of life in general.

Enjoy the ride.