mischief, mayhem, cake

I've always wanted a Hallowedding. i picked up the cake, that was my job. It has the blood splatters placed like i wanted. I had to get the placement right even if it's supposed to look random. Okay, i told them to fix a few things on it , but the decorator lady wasn't mad. Now It's elegant yet spooky. Cake is important. It's wishes and luck.


I told my girl to pick out where she wanted to go after and she said Disney World, like she just won the Super Bowl. " I'm going to Disney World"
Why? i asked.
Never been. she said.
I was trying to sell her on a North Carolina Cabin i had heard about. Mountains and cold.
But how can someone have NEVER been to Disney?


It's okay because I just bought a vintage 70's mickey shirt( see tumblr) the other day and it's soft as butter and awesome. Least I'll have something to wear. I have to get ready soon. I was a few hours late to my last wedding. This time I think she's the one who might not show. That would be funny. She's not a virgin.

A quickie wedding and the party later tonight. There's going to be family, friends, ex-lovers, Italian food, Halloween surprises, candy and a piano player who will play music from Nightmare and Corpse Bride. I asked for some Pan's Labyrinth too. Oh, and Billy Idol's White wedding on piano should be fun.

the best luck i had was you

"The ladies that I used to know; And, well some they wish me well; and some became my enemies; and some I told to go to hell; and some still haunt me in my dreams…. some still haunt me in my dreams”


It's beautiful cool and blue and dusk and then night - today is to amazing to waste. I wanted to do something before everything starts. I'm married on Friday. Halloween and oh, by the way she believes in me just how i am, just how I'm going to be. how i write it and all the in between. just how- everything.
So, I do and she does and then when I may, I'm going to kiss her hard on the mouth because that's how i do it. when i say my wife, it could have never been anyone but her. the others ran from me, didn't understand me, never trusted me, actually believed id throw the blanket away that kept us warm. didn't i tell you i wouldn't throw anything i love away- ? it wasn't a test. I just wanted to know. I want to know the girl who lays beside me, the girl i live and die for, who has my name, who wears my ring, is as much a junkie for me as I am for her.


The room key- it's like a credit card only it has a Domino's pizza ad on it. I didn't come here and mean for it to remind me of her. I'm in a different time and place and yet things are similar. Maybe i don't know where i am or if this is me or why i bothered to come here at all.

I know why. I saw this motel while driving to work and thought it would be fun to get a room. I could open the windows and let the cool air inside, play music and jump on the bed alone. totally alone and never really alone.

we were in a room like this, the bed faces the same wall. It's noisy outside and there are cheap lamps on cheap night stands, and a bed spread pattern right out of the 70's. I hate thinking that's all we ever were. a chemical romance. fighting and sleep overs. but something like that spark - something about the fit - you can't blame me for wanting more. In my head it's always so much more. I've told myself more lies than anyone ever could.

I won't lie to you now, I've been here before. I come here to write sometimes. There is a court-yard and a pool. It's built next to the train-station. A Denny's out front, drug deals in the back.
There was a girl i used to meet here and she would lug her record player and speakers up a flight of stairs to the room. She brought The Smiths and some others. I hadn't heard vinyl since high school. she rode me to side-one of Louder Than Bombs. It's weird that she felt best on top. On top girl- that's how I remember her.
I just thought of something, how do you not write about sex when you're in a motel room?

I left the room and walked to the train station. I'm by the tracks waiting for trains. i love the sound of bells and whistles and the thunder shaking steel. people coming and going - leaving.
I'd say I'm leaving this all behind me, but I'm not.
my ink changed me and she changed me but not the ring. I'll still have my addictions and she'll still understand. the silence may be less deafening.

a train pulls in on the other side of the tracks. when it stops it hisses and people get off and some get on and some leave and never come back. I used to pick her up and take her back, she used to come and go and then one day she never came back. like you, she will never come back.


i hate waiting for anything alone. so I don't. there are some things i can't do: i could never sleep alone again. I could never not miss her, not her, but the feeling of that something out of reach. that unbalanced knowing she is somewhere out there. knowing I'll never feel the heat of her skin pressed to mine again. yet the existing possibility of such, however unreal is so fucking inspiring and keeps me word filled and teary eyed with emotion. now maybe you understand? there are no real stone walls keeping us away, just the slightest change of heart. How it feels loving her and hurting after. knowing all along i am for someone else.

a brisk wind cuts across the tracks into my face. The cold air makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck. (another ghost?) I have my hoody on over the shirt i wore when i first met her. my hand is starting to hurt from writing this. A few people are waiting on benches. I'm on the wrong side. I just figured out the train doesn't run on this side today. I could do what i always do and wait for something that will never arrive. Today is to amazing to waste. I do something, the something i came to do, I get up close my notebook and leave.

i like your lips sticky , sparkly and sweet

-were only liars but were the best at it-

Once, when i believed in tarot, a lady laid my cards out on a dark wood table. I touched each one with my finger-tip. She told me she saw death by a jealous husband. I asked, "mine or his?"


I sent a text message to random numbers in my phone today. A mass texting. did you think it was to the wrong person? what it said, did it make sense? It's not supposed to. She used to send me messages like that. They didn't make any sense so i assumed weren't sent for me, but i knew they were. you know what i mean when i say - There are no accidents.

I'd send back a frantic WRONG PERSON, press enter - wait
wait. wait. for the lie. wait. wait. for anything. wait. wait.
then id look at my display screen again and wonder what the fuck "good i need it" meant.
No reply. No reply.
she wouldn't say. silly games. that's what she taught me. she's going to put you in your place the same way.

now i find myself doing it sometimes just to see. It's like my word tourettes. I can't help it, I have to. I have to say that i miss you. I have to tell you over and over that everything is fine. I have to separate truth from fiction and can you guess which this is?

You look better in my t-shirts than you do in his. (truth)


It doesn't mean i don't love you, the whole text thing. Now you know if it flashed and buzzed and you read it and it didn't make sense. I sent you something i sent to everyone. you re not so special. Then again, neither am I.


- I shouldn't, but i do -

and so i will watch you from afar

Pretty girls make graves. It was playing on the radio by her bed. Autumn- leaves burnt brown and orange falling through an open window. She told me she cut into her skin to feel something. i wanted to make her feel that something. I laid beside her watching her bleed. I found her funny and overly dramatic. we stayed up late. let me put a band-aid on it. let me fix you. I'd say.
I slept over almost every Friday and it was inevitable she would get up to pee or go flip over the mix-tape an bang her toe on the night-stand. Every Time.
I loved her little voice, her big profanities in the darkness.
fuck- fuck- fuckity face fuck. Christian stop laughing i know you're fuckin laughing it's not fucking funny.
Pressing a pillow to my face i'd say-
nu nu I swar im nut..mrph..mprh.
Her dirty mouth.

We were to young she said but, i would have married her that night. I asked. She told me I was silly and sweet and I wasn't the girl you marry. I'm the girl to put you in your place

I would have driven you anywhere. I would have taken my car and crashed us into a guard rail or into the deepest lake. I would sank to the bottom for her. I did. I wanted her to feel me. my words caressing her rusty mind. my body pressing against her body. alive or lifeless. Feel something, even if it be our dying moment.

I kissed her scars and mouth like it was our last kiss. she played along so sweet. she let me touch everything deep. it was only when i reached for her heart that she would flinch. grabbing my hand and whispering. NOT there.

She let me as hard and as long and as violently as I wanted, as I needed. I needed it. the feeling of something too. i loved her like it was my last love and maybe it was..... she ruined me for everyone else. Everyone has someone like that.

kissing bruises setting bones

It's been just short of a year. I developed the theory she wasn't really dead at all. Some nights i get shivers that run up my spine. I sit up in bed eyes still closed, fingertips to my temples. I pronounce in clairvoyant fashion:
she is watching a movie right now but she isn't paying attention- wait- she seems to be anxiously awaiting a text on her cell phone. there is a glow from under her seat. she is fumbling around in her bag. then the picture in my head goes fuzzy.

maybe i should call her. I still have the number programmed in my phone. Is it something i should delete because she's gone? I just creep myself out hoping i see it flash one day. the fact is: I've always had an open invitation to ghosts and I half expected a haunting already.
I press the call button but quickly cancel.

I want to go back to where she's buried just to check. but, what if she sees me? I'd hate for her to think i miss her this much. And the reality is I'd seen her dead. Her face beautiful and pale. Her hands balled into tight fists. As if to say "I'm done with you here, but where ever i end up, I'm ready to punch you till you pee blood"

this is a big risk but I think we were meant for each other. I pack a shovel and flash lite. so what if she finds out I've been missing her. isn't that what she would have wanted? some tears, a few heart- felt mentions in my blog? Of course.
At this point, who is she to think I'm being creepy. I'm not the one with 4" long fingernails and a plasma deficiency.

In the living world she told me not to wait for her. I didn't but i did. like it or not that's what living is. a lot of time spent waiting.

It's different than last time. We'd joke about faking her death so she could run off with me to parts unknown. Now, I'm waiting for her to make me a zombie too. I wonder will it be a bite? a scratch? will it hurt anymore or any less....like before?

it's not going to be the same kind of car crash. I promise you. this girl said she'd be awesome but i never thought this awesome. never thought a silent film. never imagined she'd be my favorite kind of monster movie, a sound track on vinyl. baby, you make me so alive that you can never be dead. i know where your heart is. dig through the dirt. reach for my hand.

awesome retro face

Time:
look at your watch. look at the clock on the wall. look at the bottom of your computer screen. remember the time. remember you spent it with me on my birthday.

our moments together slipping. I'm racing to write it all down but I've already forgotten half of what made it so great. The rest is inside me. I get another wish today. but i wouldn't feel right fucking her again or would I? i get cake. cake with candles, cake with frosting, cake with ants.
think about something you want and you'll get it. (except to get younger)

i like her to wear purple. i like when she wears the purple dress. purple eye-shadow. it's her best color and she might not even know it. Or is it green? It could be green. either way we are going out tonight. either way her panties to match purple or green. we are staying in or I'm picking her up or we'll just snuggle on the sofa. I'll pet her head and tell her to be good.

I know she isn't going to sing for me and if she did- not well. she fakes her way through it. It wouldn't hurt my feelings if she just stood there and smiled. happy- happy-happy.


it's carved into me. carved into my cake. my mother called me, my sister emailed, and my soon- to- be wife made me a notebook. I get a wish and I'm going to write it down in that book. Don't let me forget. I'm writing it down like this:
I've had my cake. I've had you. everything is the way it should be. 10\14\08. she loves me. she loved me. I wish everyone to be as lucky as me.

interested in seeing what i got?: tumblr

i can't explain how i spend my days - I'll show you.

i said this: i miss you.

i did this: woke up and started again, read some of a new book, made her dinner, rubbed her head, a song left me speechless, a puppy stole my heart, forgave myself, said fuck, had ideas, looked at her picture, found pictures, stole pictures, stole music, stole art, made art, made love, fell in love, imagined, fell asleep, woke up, thought about you, used blue ink, spilled wine, cleaned my glasses, cleaned her glasses, kissed her goodnight, kissed her goodbye, watched her sleeping.

I wrote things down in various places and they looked like this:

- i used to write things here. now i don't get it. now it's like why? but then again why not? even when she used to read this. it's just ill communication. (i can't believe i just used a beastie boys term)

-my birthday is the 14Th, I'm getting married on Halloween. Ive always liked October. the leaves don't change down here in florida. they don't fall. only me

- i feel pretty good after all, at least i know Ive inspired someone. a little her, a little him, a little you. that means a lot to me. why is once never enough ?


- when someone likes you the littlest things you say and do mean something. mean everything. I remember when the buzz of her phone made her jump with excitement because she knew it was me. I wonder if someone calling her now means as much. is the shiver still there? a quick fix is all it takes sometimes. just hi !. that's it. then we are good for awhile. just words through space. just words through space placed on page. i can feel when she thinks about me. it's not jedi magic. or some disturbance in the force. It's okay to miss the good things once in awhile. just thoughts for a moment. lay still, lay stolen. it's normal. just something to blink before your eyes, until it's gone. I think it's fair that i let you use what you need. this life is far to short, the people here are large in numbers, but few enter the vein. fewer still enter the blood stream. however far you'd let me reach, it's the least we can do for each other.

- my mother always told me my biological father was a preacher. my grandma told me he was an artist. are you anything at 18 years old? isn't everyone an artist and preacher? I'd like to think i am.

-I saw my birth certificate the other day and it's bizarre to read my mother being only 16 and him only 18. in 1969. It's strange to read his name, of someone you've never met, but is genetically linked to you. It's just that everything always appeared to be clouded in some kind of mystery. As a kid i could imagine him being all kinds of things. And me being a part of him having all kinds of wonderful powers handed down to me. i have been a mutant, a super-hero, son of a rock-star, preacher, artist, in the mafia, and even a prince. I've never thought of anything less than that. Even after all these years, my expectations remained high. i am living proof that " somethings are better left unknown."

- i looked him up the other day, with everything i do know and the internet being what it is. (god and the devil). I did it on the premise of finding out about my family medical history. Anything i should be looking out for?, Had he already suffered a heart attack at a young age?, balding? I mean, when can i expect to fall apart? That kind of thing. I only looked though, i didn't make contact , didn't interfere with his life that he wanted no part of me in. Though i might have half sisters\brothers somewhere out there. more to imagine i guess. Christina Ricci my half-sister? That would be strange. His parents are pushing 90 and both still alive so that kind of answers my question about the the medical thing. He lives in an upscale part of California. Owns a marketing agency based out of Santa Monica. So i guess he is an artist\preacher after all. Long way from rock-star, super-hero though.

i finished with this:

there are pieces of me scattered all over

dirty smudged
pages that
you wouldn't read

there was a story
i wrote
about us
about you
about me

a summers end a good winter

night driving
burning drowning
leaving

you ended up writing horrible things about me
and i returned
the favor
in less clever lines

i said i fucked you
i said i loved you
i whispered
every rude word i could think of
in your ear

there

are pieces of me strewn all about

and they don't
fit

without
you

when sparkles taste like stars

Now

I told you once when we were young that
we would someday meet again.
Now, the years flow past, the letters
unwritten, I am not so certain.

It is autumn. There are toothaches hidden
in this wind, there are those determined
to bring forth winter at any cost.
I am resigned to dark blonde shadows

at stoplights, lost in the roadmaps of leaves
which point in every direction at once.
But I am wearing the shirt you stitched
two separate lifetimes ago. It is old

and falling to ash, yet every button blooms
the flowers of your design. I think of this
and I am happy, to have kissed

your mouth with the force of language,
to have spoken your name at all

by Greg Watson

be it me, or be it none

and us both never being big on communication or just an inability to completely understand what the other was saying. whether it the heat between us, the pretty, or dirty, it was deafening .
So, as not to hurt each other by mistake
she tells me silence is golden. but, it's green in your eyes.
not like money but like emerald seas, which alone spoke volumes to me.

All those poisoned arrows were never pointed directly at you, dear.
something you should know.
for everyone else who thinks they know me and never will.
(this doesn't include you)
it is my distance that fairly often leaves me
missing my mark. i wonder with you, if i had ever gotten close.


I find this sort of thing: the writing of letters .. frustrating and futile.
it only reinforces the fact you miss something you can never have. confirms that you loved her more than she did you. you think okay, maybe she.....and that's only wishful thinking and only so you can make it through the fucking year.

sure, she has memories and fondness and thank fullness but that will never make her yours. all the inspiration then and now. yours once, yours for a moment, but never yours now. never close. never beside you.

and don't you think about that? isn't it slightly possible to sink back in? because the one true fact of it all: is that we will always be more than exceptional together in small doses. how we are fine with the big things but the little things we can't possibly sustain. It's not fair that its the little things that count sometimes in life. short bursts. attention spans directed only to our fire and chemical burn all the way down to the fingertips. in a room, without words, I picture nothing has really changed. I mean how does one fight away feelings when you haven't a clue as to where they come from nor why they never seem to have left.

but i can only measure us in hours at a time, maybe a night or two or three. bodies and hearts on fire. this is why there are no pictures of us. lets kiss before it gets bad again. let me leave before i say something stupid again. we shouldn't, but why can't we stop this? we do what we always do. I am your ice-cream on the cake. nicotine candy. we do what we always do. make the stars shine. I lean you back as you kiss my face. where forever and never again take up the same space in our minds. exceptional with hello and goodbyes and heat until we are burned all the way through. leaving us only with addiction and smoldering ash.

Everything that happens is from now on

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."
-Oscar Wilde


I bring the Halloween decorations out from the closet and garage. the stores are filled with candy and costumes. have you been? did you see?
I like this time of year. I like you here. I like it getting dark outside sooner. I like the blankets pulled up high in bed, and you wrapped up in them.
pumpkin spice latte's and hot muffins. making cupcakes with black frosting and orange sprinkles.
the carving knife.

she won't be the witch. she'll be the bride.
Me, i don't know what I'll be. married on the 31st. more the wolf than prince. more the dragon than the slayer.
she is the slayer. her words, her laugh, her
smile slays me.
there many reasons to hide within the safety of strangers. when you are that stranger.

blood on her paws.
sure, the moon in her eyes
and cake fights.
love is creepy.
but i can not shake this. I can not shake her.

tradition has it that i do a table scape for every holiday and this is my most favorite. I'll post it up on my deviant or tumblr when it's finished.

credits:
snailbooty

spiced cake and pumpkin guts

Dinner and a movie:

the wine will be like blood tonight.
For dinner: pasta and a homemade spicy Sicilian sauce, vegetarian meatballs.
she'd tell you I'm a decent cook, with my best being food on the grill. I can do pastas too, and not just because of an Italian last name. or maybe.

and I've tasted some of the best wines in the valley. I've kissed lips, touched skin, shared laughs with the finest of women. that's not bragging it's just to show you how very lucky I am. brown eyes, green eyes, blue.
I want you to know this because i know this. she went and shared parts of herself with me and i probably can't forget it, i probably will never escape it. You become one of the ghosts i talk too, that i write about, and I'm going to miss you as much as you do me.

Ive watched blood flowing from her vein as if some kind of test.
i am constantly passing and failing her. my
resistance so often being futile. i pull my car over to the side of a highway and think about you on top of me. there is a pumpkin patch just over the hill. there are no tears , only leaves, bright orange and falling. October. month of my birth. month of witches.

she is better cooking breakfast than dinner. That's why i asked her to stay the night so often.
she sleeps to my right, soundly with soft shallow breaths. she'll let you touch her in the night. your chest to her back. her shoulders get cold. she likes the blankets pulled up. but, who doesn't and isn't this exactly you too?

it's not all magic. the movies, music, books and our little inside jokes. not even the scents or saying "baby" or adding "bear" to the end of your name. it's not so you remember me. time is both beautiful and cruel that way. you won't. I know that too.

this isn't a trick
this is what people do to win your heart. to steal your soul. to keep you. ruin you.
letters in the middle of October become secrets and wishes and candy. Tell me. What is sweeter than that?