hot hot heat

it's a 100mg thc orange cream soda. serving sizes are something you are not familiar with. it's not a bowl or bong or blunt, it's a soda, how bad can it be? it tastes like orange creamsicles, just a faint hit of it at the end, of something more. the hotel room is drab but it is brightened by her. you are about to take a swig and she stops you, use the shot glass, it's what was recommended. she always looks out for you. one shot, and then half a chocolate, also that hint of grassiness at the very end. lie down. lie down. lie down. nothing, and then everything. the tv is funny. it's all funny. and then it's her hands. they're always warm but now they are hot. your skin is scalding from the touch. you think for a second how wild it is your mind can convince you something is happening that is not, her hands are not irons. your body shakes. and shakes. and shakes. it's all ok, though. the rental car is damaged, the food is fast, the traffic is furious, the drug's too strong, but it's all ok. you have her. you have her. you have her. what's one night too stoned in amidst a lifetime in love? earlier in the night you were so upset, so anxious. the heat from her hands melts it away. you don't know when you fall asleep.

moving day

it's a saturday after noon and it's the only option. move it around. shuffle it. one box goes from kitchen to guest room. nobody uses the guest room right now so it's ok. it's so, so easy. just move it. it can get you published. john stossel once wrote that global warming isn't a big deal because people can just move. move from the coasts, move from the islands. like moving this box. lift and set. room to room. still a roof over its head. it's just a box.

at work one day people talked about how easy it really is. they talked about california, about the homeless  people. they solved it. why not just move to arizona where it's much cheaper? all those homeless people could just leave LA for phoenix. and really, they don't have a house, so it's much easier to move than it is for most? just lift and set. it's just a box.

the tongs are moved from a canister that is too full to a shelf that is not. it's easier to find them now. a good move. the problems are shuffle around to. the school has always been one, it's just moved. first from uni, than community college, than online. life and set. it's so expensive and restrictive and feels like committing in blood. a degree for life. set in stone. it's just a box, right? just a piece of paper. it means nothing.

it feels so human. just move it. change the location. the grass is greener. re-arrange the space. change the energy. leave the rural decaying towns, you know, change is good, right? it's your fault if you stay.  the cities are where it's at. leave the family, leave the childhood. leave skid row, it's too expensive, what's wrong with you? you always have to be moving. the commercials say so. "this one is for the doers" says an ad that tells me if i am not moving, not going, i am worthless. i'd look better if i moved more. my sister had a roommate once who shifted his furniture around every few months. completely moved his bed, shelves, tv, everything. the liquor bottles didn't move though. they were always there in his box. that's all it was i think. who knows really?

but then it all doesn't matter. the desk is 9 hours. i can't leave the desk. i'd get criticized. in trouble. the homework demands it, the job demands it. i can't move. maybe none of us ever have. it seems so easy. lift and set. it's just a box. it's just a life. it's juts a moving day.

the silver lining in grey skies

it was truly the very last warm day. there was no doubt no. no hope for another warm, sunny day. what's left are the remains. the cat tried to eat a leaf off the floor last night, tracked in because they're starting to fall. the temperature is too. the dehumidifiers at work are being put away and instead of being happy at having a little less work at closing time, a small sigh escapes you at what it means. last night the darkness took over by 8. no matter how early you start dinner now it'll be dark by the time you finish.

it gets harder. every single year. the loss of walks, of sun, of warm grilling, of the beach. you haven't gotten yet to where your bones hurt but you know it's probably a matter of time. your back hurt much sooner than you thought so maybe they will too. it feels like giving up so much for something you can't control. wake up in the dark, go to bed in the dark, scrape your car in the dark, walk the dog in the dark. you try to console yourself with the fact that last year you had adult snow days, but unless a polar vortex swoops down with record temperatures, it isn't happening, and all the people who died paid for your weekday cuddles.

the only silver lining is why it's harder. it's harder because you are giving up so much. giving up things you never had. a wonderful dog, grilling for two, singing on the beach, walks along the small inland lakes. maybe that's what to focus on. the fact that this only stings more because for once you have things to look forward to when the sun starts peeking out. when winter meant nothing but cold it was bad but it wasn't loss. you can't be sad with nothing to lose. you can't be sad with everything to lose.

it always seemed far away

when the present author was younger, i.e., an age range presently described by the word "teen," it was largely assumed that the trials and tribulations of an aging body started much later in life. afterall, athletes were in their 20s and 30s, so it stands to reason that the body aches and pains complained about by the present author's parents were something that were decades away. of course, it's easy to not realize that said athletes often wrap up entire limbs in ice and soak in hot tubs for hours after sporting events, but from all outside appearances, physical competence seemed to be something to look forward to for another 20-30 years.

alas, when pulled muscles, neck spasms, knee pain, and general malaise began setting in by the latish 20s, the present author - in talking with others the same age - realized this was truly, gratuitously faulty thinking, and that body pain really just sort of starts way earlier than it is commonly implied when one is told by parents "oh you are soooo young" when in your 20s.

of course, the desk jobs many of us inhabit - including the writer of this piece - likely contribute to the very pains said writer is complaining about. one might be ready to then suggest that doing more physical activity my render these pains a bit less severe. alas, given the present author badly pulled a back muscle this very morning, said activity will have to stay where it has for some time; as a passing thought, the perfect cycle of an inability to play sports anymore, because the present author now has an inability to play sports.

tyndale found nothing in this town

there was nothing. it was that simple. if you made it until 30 you wouldn't make it any longer. there was little to tie you down. maybe the horror of your family stumbling upon your body, if they did, maybe a sunset, who knows, but really, nothing to convince you to stay.

this town is littered with potential past graves. the parking ramp you were going to jump from. the train tracks you could have stepped on. the overpass you could have catapulted off. the lake you could have driven into. the garage you could have hung yourself in. the nightstand that held your razor blades.

there was nothing in this town besides that. no people you knew, no experiences to enjoy. you tossed yourself halfway around the world, tossed back a bottle of liquor and benzos, tossed back all the stress of work with the tobacco spit in your mouth that leaked out and made you want to tear every inch of carpet out of your room, all to try to escape, but it didn't do anything.

you never thought it'd be a person. maybe that was your folly. you used to dream about waking up and looking outside and seeing a palm tree. about walking in winter somewhere warm enough to be in a t-shirt, no longer caring about scars. you used to dream about chicago neighborhoods or paris charm or kuala lumpur hawkers. but dreams are just that, and the older you got the more they became taunts instead of goals. there is no charm in a bedroom that is filthy, in a life that has nothing to keep you here. everything becomes routine. no matter where it is.

you convinced yourself that the only mistake was staying. was keeping yourself here, holding onto to... something, anything.

maybe that's why you'd do anything to not lose her. maybe that's why at work, sitting at your desk, all you can do is think about her. maybe that's why you want so hard to be perfect for her, even though you know she doesn't require it at all. nothing in life ever made you want to live a life like she does, just to see her smile, hear her laugh, look at her dark brown eyes, cuddle on the couch and wonder why this guy is burning his dessert on the cooking show she is so good at coming up with recipes for. maybe that's why you tear up the few times you've fought. it's conflict, but it's conflict with her. and she's not the only thing keeping you alive in the sense that she is solely responsible for your safety, she's not someone who has to cradle your mental health, and your handle on things is the best its been in so many years, but for awhile the world was grey. the palm trees were grey. the neighborhoods - what few there are here - were grey. now nothing is grey. and no matter what, you always want to see this color. the nicest person you've ever met is spending her life with you. she is nobody's keeper, but she will always keep you with her.