Vacant Entries #1

 To celebrate completing my history final, I thought I would eat and get a bottle of alcohol for dinner. The delicious aroma of food set before me. I stuff stomach more to fill in the spaces to stop my careless unconscious thoughts that tug me away from this splendid evening. I would cast the spirits out of this aluminum can inside me. Surely the spirits will be smothered in my glutinous belly. My words cut and construct where I see fit. I tried not to offend anyone but if I did I have the best excuse. Memories slips away as if they were washed down the drain. In the aftermath I'll be running laps back and forth to the bathroom. The fatigue will leave me bedridden with symptoms like dehydration and lag. Alcohol, nectar of the gods!
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It's funny how I want a song to satisfy this insatiable feeling. The perfect words to describe this yeaning in a way it feels complete. A satisfaction if I had what my heart desired. Writing this eased my waning heart, but there will be a night when I feel this again. Even so I wait faithfully.
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I felt younger when I was fully in tune with my music. I remembered who I was like back then. I was bilingual, expressive, a dreamer, an underdog who tasted a sample of what the world had to offer. I believe that was my desire from the dream I had last night. The face from a peaceful time brought me back to a simpler, happier place. I had the love of and for my good friends. I wasn't ashamed to learn or sing in Japanese. I could see myself in different places. The world was as vast as my imagination. I could even create a world!! Things won't stay the same, but I'm glad I remembered my dreaming heart.

The Spirits Bottled Up

On a night of untold occurrences, I orchestrate a plan that unites people both known and unknown of each other. I set out to find find fun and await the choice of trick or treat. The trick that I find an easy lover to be snared by their wonders and evils harbored. Or a treat that satisfies the heart from ungodly fears and safely carried into tomorrow. I do not know which path I should take, yet if allowed there be another. One where I tread the fine line and see a different resolution. Where life is rather a multi-sided dye not a two-sided coin. I wished for this as I walked among the spirits.

The Extinguished Festival

From the northern hills to the glimmering southern piers. I have tirelessly tread with little fuss. For the hustle of folks, the multiplying coins in my wallet, and sight of eloquent women. I am not one to argue. Yet the swift passing of days has left me in lament. A scar that shall not leave for seasons. The touch of a cascading sun. The skies open and stars reach forth. The fleeting warmth of a saturated breeze. The ending of Summer unlike another, but recurring just the same. What does the forecast say for me? Will I tread lightly as I walk? Will the clouds be merry? Will you stay longer? Tell Autumn to wait at the door I am not ready for change. If words nor hand can stop you then I only ask this. How will you leave? Any parting words to console my heart? Will there be a stage for your finale? Will the flowers graciously bloom, insects echo at noon, and birds sing a lullaby to soothe my grieving heart? Send word of your return as the days and night shall pile below my eyes. Seasons cast in the safety of my shack. I’ll sit aside the window waiting for your return.

Bare Cellar doors

A collection of thoughts written down I believe are fit to share. Please enjoy at your leisure. These pieces are important to me. Hope as I do everytime someone understands.

"Leaving the Farm"

I will miss this house, my home. It was unlike any other. A museum of artifacts, a storehouse of precious memories. The epitome of it's greatness through it's aged walls. These walls have been like blanket to my cheeks snuggling to it's familiar touch. To see it wain in such stature is heartbreaking. So I cry in solitude and guilt. This isn't how I wanted to leave. This wasn't what I wanted.

"An Emboldened Luster"

As I stare at the candle once lit with passion, I think of the person I shared it with or for. Years after the old flame withers I wonder if it will burn again. In the middle of the night, while strolling in the park, or on a bright Sunday morning. Will it spark if the wind blows on it's melted wax? If I keep it at my bedside will I see you in a dream? Does it decay if not discarded? Is it better to live without it? That comes to mind every time I question second chances or meetings. I want to believe it burned as a lantern through the turbulent times. After it's life ceased it became a landmark of where I had been.

"Coorbital Blues"

I looked to the stars to send a message. As if they could tell you my words. I stared at the moon burning it's brilliance into my soul. I wondered if it saw you walking home as it slips under the horizon. The heavens as glamourous, unyielding fixtures to love. Unanswered questions that deepen my obsession with no truth to be found. Free me from your celestial lure I plead. I feel hooked on a line without a hand in sight. A hand that shall give reason for my spirit that drifts desiring greater. I brood over you with undying passion. "Where will you lead me?" Your so suave I doubt my tongue for saying such. Yet still you shall be there, as I will follow loyally.

A Vagabond’s compass

Dear friend,     
     I sat in a restaurant easy dropping on a native’s conversation with a half eaten sandwich, a bowel of soup, and a glass of water placed before me. The waiters dash from table to table taking orders. There was a gorgeous woman whose hair laid down her back. So many strands of luxurious hair I would spend a night counting. Better to kiss her sleeping face and leave than to hear her voice echo across the seas. Anymore then she’ll anchor my feet.      
     A broadcast intercepted the daily sports program to announce an emergency storm warning. The storm will hit the shores within a day’s notice. People were advised to evacuate to the public shelter. Amiss the panic, the restaurant owner beckoned for able-bodied men to help board up the store. The customers threw their money on the table to leave in haste. The owners gloomy eyes fell upon me as I searched my pockets for cash. He wagered to any man left to help their meal would be free.            
     Excitement swept through me as I marveled such an opportunity. Bizarre but, it felt like being drafted! Like the owner would toss me a helmet to pile sandbags in a torrential downpour. In the heat of action I’m brazen like a real man! We’d nail boards to the doors and strengthen the front line. The howling squall, grass kneeling in defeat, twigs and foliage scattered like shrapnel. If the shelter yields, the citizens must take refuge in the Virvel stormtower.     
     However, that’s just my over imagination. While working I felt quite worried transportation would halt longer than expected. Lately feeling captive in one place vexes me. Earlier the docks was breathtaking as the world stretched beyond the horizon. Later that day I returned to my hotel room to pack. I felt inclined to write a letter if you worried about me. I’ve seen great things on my voyage. Each time I leap the sky carelessly guides me to foreign lands. I would love to visit you, perch upon the lawn and chatter of such glory. For now I can give this letter. Until we meet again, may the winds be at your back.

 Sincerely,
        Audiere

Discharge papers for Room 8

I thank the Lord God for my well-being today. I am not wounded or in a critical condition. I ended up in a safe place. A hospital. I was downtrodden by my foolish actions and so was my family. My immaturity won't be tolerated especially if I do that again. I do no want there to be a second time like this. But I greatly wonder who got me to the hospital, where did I go, who saved me? I proclaim the Lord God and Jesus Christ did. In coordination with the Holy Spirit, they lead me back from where my imprudent footsteps diverted. Young and foolish it is wrong to be, yet it will help the younger generation to learn and properly avoid such decisions. I want to teach my children that. I want my son to follow my instruction unlike I did to my father. To know Christianty as well.

An old flame tethers

I can hear you speaking amongst the background.
A sound I've heard before yet hard to ignore.
A voice that sends ballerinas spinning through room.
An impromptu ballet.
Audience of one dying to satisfy my heart.
My empty heart wanting more.
Reluctant to say you've graced me with such a privilege so I was at the right place, right time.
The hairs on my arm straighten, my ears adjust to hear you clearer, my mind jumps from the paper to visions of your profile.
Do I still want you?
Is it that I can only adorn you with such affection when you are not mine's?
Perhaps there is more left to be known.
Maybe I am over you.
If until today our relationship sustained us, we would be so much more.
The roles our feet fill, days be different, the mouths to feed.
A house whose bricks shall be painted with our memories, words, and photos.
It would be a spectacular museum!!
Like that house I'll carry you deeper into my soul.
You'll know me greater than any man, gained tolerance of my various ways.
You'll be "the one" for me legend had spoken when I was born.
For all that you are not, yet a person whom I cannot call stranger.

Neither my clementine as you once were.

Walking into an Ocean

One night during autumn of last year I got really bored with being in my room. I felt stifled and disliked always being in the house. So around 10pm I had an idea to sit outside and listen to music. I took a fold able chair, mp3 player, earphones and sat in the front yard. Must admit it wasn't the safest thing I thought of, yet it didn't satisfy me. I wanted to vent and write to highlight this experience. I went back in and switched the chair for a wooden stool and placed it near my street side mailbox. I took a pen, paper, and a notebook. After awhile it felt better adjusted to being out there. More, more, something's missing I thought. How about I toss this stool back inside and take a stroll around the block I thought. That's exactly what I did. I was emotionally roused, kinda scared, and happy at the same time.

"The calm chill in the air makes my skin feel wet as if I'm sitting in a pool. I feel vulnerable as if I can be broken, tampered with or feel less than I swear I am. Like an animal in the wild at the presence of an unfamiliar creature. I feel my life laying as a shadow under the orange street lights. Actions, senses, cognition are the key to my survival. Walking no the faster than the quieting of my footsteps, slower than the sounds that lurk around me. The thoughts of killers, thieves lying in wait ready to pounce. The empty bench cloaked in darkness serves as a trap. You don't sit in these sort of situations you get out as soon as possible. The broken fence I sat on with friends is replaced with a 6-inch wooden one standing grand from the street till deep inside the apartment complex. I don't know if I'll go home now the view of looking on the streets is so nostalgic. I use to play out my juvenile days here with friends. Perhaps it's the little things accumulating that make a difference. What will we do when big things change? Can we adapt before we are overcome? Thankfully I have escaped attack but there is a silent thunder to the North. There are no stars to ask directions tonight. I feel a chill rest in my bones. I've been exposed too long. After reaching home safely do I have a silent victory before my nightly prayers?"

It was an amazing night, I don't recommend it though. I wasn't rationally thinking. In the latter days I read about how heightened emotions might be confused with other intense emotions which helped me understand something. ( Read from "The Art of Choosing" book). I was mainly playing love songs really loud during my stroll and I've walked around at night without this level of anxiety.

A Parched Glass, Tart Vodka

I had an idea of using an old Vodka bottle, a champagne glass, and soap bubbles. It was something I thought of around Valentine's Day. A photo from my set named "An evanescent thrill". Imagine if you will that your in a hot tub of shallow water. You are the empty glass. The foam made of expectations, thoughts, and intangibles that don't easily leave but fester or diminish over time. The decorated, delicious bottle of Vodka is Valentine's Day. The level of water comparable to feelings of emotion. On any day I can find myself saddened and yearning. I'll feel euphoria in time. Yet on Valentine's Day that people parade, boast, and those insecurities are given form. An abundant amount of questions and thoughts. I tried to separate from importance of the day because it only reminded me of how long I've been single. I don't like that. I haven't been able to find someone who reciprocates the affections I have for them. I thought of approaching it as a religious holiday that I don't celebrate or meet the requirements. It worked if I ignored it well enough. However there was a high point.

I was on campus when I walked to a table in the cafe. I saw my friend so I went over to say hello. He told me about his club selling small pieces of candy from like five cents to a dollar. All of the stuff was associated with Valentine's Day so as I tried declining and slowly drifting away another person at the table starts talking to me. Now not only am I in a corner I'm feeling bad about not wanting to buy anything and no girlfriend. So as I think of a way to politely leave a female professor offers me the chance to buy some candy. I quickly say "no you don't have to" as it isn't needed. But she pulls out this bag off candy she brought for her class and she doesn't need the candy at the table. So the professor gives a person at the table a dollar and walks away. I stood puzzled as to what should I do, what should I pick? I ended up getting a small baggy with Hershey's chocolate inside. I walked away believing it wasn't for me and I should find a woman to give it to. Long story short I didn't find anyone. Maybe it was for me I thought. That a gracious offer would be given to me. I've struck out on many Valentine's Days. Maybe it was an empty space from the desire of actually spending that day like any other couple. Whatever generic things there might be I spent it with a significant other. A gift that resounded with it. A sign that love is forthcoming or a ration to keep enduring. It moved me I must say.

Meddling gibberish

Smashing the blinds ten minutes

at the four hundredth hour.

The winter frost kissing my lips.

I pucker and lick to satisfy their thirst.

You hold me without arms.

Pushing!

Molding!

I’ll hide in my hut.

The tree branches rattle at my windowsill.

Autumn leaves grace the ground

to usher you in.

Where shall they lead us?

Where do we rest our heads?

It comes without date, yielding as it departs.

An astounding phenomenon to behold.

I’ll peek through the blinds with

relentless curiosity.

In haste I’ll run outside sprawling on

the ground. When morning comes

I’ll be a spectacle for the neighbors to enjoy.

She’ll be torn away from her coffee cup

and stomp angrily outside.

She’ll pull me by my ear as I’m dragged outback.

I caught a glimpse of her scowling face.

I’m all washed up and pinned to a clothes line.

I couldn’t lay ignorant to the calls.

Hanging to dry after a rainy night,

I ponder if my actions became a sin.

Sworn to silence by her rebuke

I sway among the soaked linen.

Can I be your paper doll?

I promise to be quiet and never run away.

Black with Two sugars

Under dim cafe lights,
we find time to get away.
The humming jazz music
whispering in our ears.
It escapes my consciousness
when we take the time to talk.
We spread cream on sliced bread.
A drank whether with herbs,
coffee beans, or water.
Apparently I bought a plain bagel.
If I paid for it my choice wouldn’t
have been bland.
Yet I’m not stretching your hard
earned dollar neither contents
of my plate have discouraged me from
sharing such an opportune time with you.
You tell me how you see me.
The words we shared yesteryear.
The silent thoughts of others.
The weight of my hands, footsteps,
and tune of my voice.
You ask me about the lagging
days spent in bed.
 “I’m stagnantly waiting for things to change” I said.
An answer none progressive.
Can we sum up these days to align
 with our intentions? I fret to speak.
However distressful our chat was we did not faint.
Today can be brighter.
I greatly enjoyed our chit chat over the dinner table.
You were with me and I admit it was quite delightful.

Don’t wait up for me!

I was washing dishes last night when I had a great idea. I was

listening to "Farewell Blues" when I got the idea for a story. This is what I thought of:

I would want be in an old white and black movie. A silent film. It

would be on the streets of a fast paced city. I'm a lowly beer

smuggling mobster yelling at my girl. We are fussing as we walk down the street when this mysterious car pulls up. It's like a Chevrolet standard driven by a fly guy pulls over to the side of the road. He gestures my girl to get in. She hesitates at first, but walks over towards the car. When I grab her arm she already had one leg inside his car. I told her to stop.

"What hell is this broad thinking?! You don't just jump in someone's car? Who da fuck is this chump? C'mon we got things to do!"

Stubbornly she stood defiant to move. Somehow we became a street attraction as people start looking at us. I'm getting annoyed,

embarrassed, and angry. Suddenly, she gets fed up and slaps me clean across my jaw. For a second we stood shocked and I lost my grip of her arm. Her frail eyes staring into mine, as if she wanted to reach out and rub my swollen cheek. But she stood there taken aback by it all. During this the fly guy stretches across the car seats towards her and yanks her in the car by the arm. Once she's in the car he pulls the door shut and speeds away. It'll happen so fast. Annoyed at her betrayal, I'll light a cigarette and walk away as people whisper in circles. Floating on a plank through a sea of staring eyes.

"Why are my fingers trembling? I feel dandy, yeah I do!"

It doesn't stop. I saw a couple cheeky kids were horseplaying on the corner. I flung my cigarette butt at them and kept at a straight face. My vision was getting blurry. I slow down and walk into an alley. Found a dumpster and pitifully kicked it.

"What am I doing here? What happened to my firm composure? I feel like shit!!"

I vigorously kicked the dumpster. The impact left a great pain in my foot as I limped to an adjacent wall. I flop myself down and pulled my knees to my face. I felt my face wrinkling, sobbing, and smothered as I tried to quiet my yelling. Shit definitely hit me. That's exactly how I felt.

The ending credits were touching!

(12/31)  

I couldn’t get a congested feeling out of my throat. The egg nog I drank was bad tasting. I made soup and a side of chips for breakfast. Tea to wash it down. I kept listening to music and playing a game on my phone. I rejoice at the sound of trash trucks outside. The plastic was set outside earlier. In the mood for something new so I moved to the bathroom and dimmed the lights. It’s a great time to sit in the bathroom. I swear, I’m totally sober hahaha! The litter box was a nice touch. The cat was coughing up a hairball so I tossed him in the tub. I sat listening to music. I wondered if there was someone I wanted to think of. It’ll be like a shootout on a radio. No one would know so it wouldn’t be impressive. No one to enjoy it. I’d preferred this would be a poem if I tried, yet it’s better as jotted thoughts. I’m still practicing Japanese. Gotten rusty and I miss talking to people in Japanese. These moments countdown the end of 2012. Subjectively it’s sad yet wonderful. A new year, expectations, actions, thoughts built up for all the possibilities. Perhaps it is now where introspection is at it’s greatest height.

Later on in the day a couple of friends came over. I killed the mood with a movie set during WW2. I took a shower and waited for another who arrived late. Moscow doesn’t believe in tears comrade! So our moral was raised when we watched a martial arts movie. We headed out and boarded a bus to the station. A bad decision lead us waiting in the cold. We walked to a restaurant after a long frigid tread. The service and alcohol were bad, a decent server. The countdown hit zero as we walked away from a liquor store. I messaged my family and told them “Happy New Year!”.

(1/1)  

The next day I took part in a group outing. The friend dynamic has weakened. After all the bickering we road home in a mute car. Surely drama couldn’t keep silent and the phones kept ringing. Let’s purge this so it can be the last day. We aren’t seventeen forever.