e36

from time to time we all do it. i did it. and if you haven't you will.

the most recent search leads to me, shot dead in an ohio k-mart in 2004. they say it was a "crazy drug-addicted gunman". but it doesn't sit so random for the guy with the same name. the picture is of some 22 year old jason priestly doppleganger, whom i recently realized played "tober"- a pseudo punk character from that favorite 21 jumpstreet episode. needless to say... that picture wasn't me. but maybe it was supposed to be? a delusion perhaps left over from a bad robot killer from the future movie... you know the one.

i've seen it before. someone with my name. only once. some music ceo of some sort. never before did i see this kid.

not that death or dying ever seemed scary. but it's just creepy to see your name attached to some memorial photo that isn't you. but then it gets odd.

a news article regarding the incident tells of this paul's 4 year old daughter, hope. of course i do not have a daughter, but i did date a hope for a short time. an interesting coincidence.

i continue to read... apparently this me stops at his parents home for a dinner break that consists of peanut butter and jelly. i wan't expecting that. more of that, "if you know me" stuff.

not that any of this has any tangible significance to my existence... just something encountered one night that i was ill.


i can't help but wonder how it will happen for me.

she didn't say a word. just gazed. watching so intensely that at the proper angle i could see the images imprinting on the back of her grand round eyes- like a starving, unblinking vacuum of a black hole, drawing in everything they could focus on. her attention darts in every direction, leaving nothing unseen for long; refusing to miss a moment that passed around her. everything seen, seconds later, was new again for the first time.

her face can only be described as abbreviated. from forehead to chin, you could measure the same distance from ear to ear. in profile she angled from the vertex tip of her gold-flake freckled nose, to her ruddy chin and platinum hairline.

i watch her feet and arms, weightless and willowy, as they sway to the gentle rocking of the bus. it was as if she had never used them, nor even noticed they were part of her.

a quiet extroversion, she is demure in her fearless curiousity. i smile to myself as she peaks over the newspapers and shoulders of the other riders, sliding in and between conversations without acknowledging that she is noticed.

i wonder what she is thinking.

i wonder where she is going when i catch my own reflection in her glassy stare. her sharp movements halting as if something in my face was not new to her. she swims toward me in a hypnotized earnestness as if she has a secret for me, but never knowing until this moment.

the bus dings and the message is lost.

it's my stop.

swirling dreams like heavy black crayon lined puffs...
where the edges are stark, but the details can't be made out.

reminds me of everything i know when my eyes are open,
but showing me the right way the events play.

i never knew what a mirror of myself i'd find under my desk.
maybe i'll stay there more often.


i haven't left work in two days. too scared of what i might not find at home...

much as i despise going to work, it erases my head for a few hours.
but what will i do when the work is gone?

"The years like great black oxen tread the world, And God, the herdsman goads them on behind, And I am broken by their passing feet." - William Butler Yeats

i fought with the idea of omitting the, "And God", as i am not a religious man. but far be it for a little man like me to misquote. and if you are going to blame someone, why not God?

those who know me... know me. odd to quote a poet, but he is yes, a writer. and this verse fits me as of late.

what happens when i snap?

it's coming... not far off...