CannonBall!'s Blog
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| January 7, 2012 |
Gotta friend who misses his ex.
Gotta friend addicted to sex.
Gotta friend trying his best.
Gotta friend who’s a real mess.
Gotta lotta friends into art
Gotta lotta friends who drive fast cars.
Gotta lotta friends with a lotta problems.
Gotta lotta friends who’ll never solve them. | |
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| January 6, 2012 |
The last time I saw you,
you were so afraid
of what was coming next.
I hope everything
is working out. | |
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| State Street |
The trains hums past
and everyone covers their
ears (tourists)
or they ignore that it’s there.
People board
and exit it, and the train
forgets who was there to begin with.
State Street is busy with
the noise of the homeless shaking their change cups
and people talking too loud on
their cell-phones to ignore them.
A guy asks me if I smoke
weed and I deny the offer
because I couldn’t afford it
even if I did smoke weed.
There’s a sign on every street corner
“3,000 people in Chicago get hit by cars every year”
and some days
I wish I was one of them.
But most days
watching couples holding hands at
the ice-rink in Millennium Park
is enough.
3,000 people will get
hit by cars in Chicago this year.
The train will still hum
and the homeless are still freezing. | |
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| January 4, 2012 |
The windchill drops
outside of my apartment,
while everything inside of it shakes
because my upstairs neighbor
loves pop songs and what I assume
are amphetamines.
But tonight all she’s playing
are the sad songs from
the 90’s.
I can hear her above my head
slow dancing
alone. | |
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| January 3, 2012 |
It’s weird where life takes you.
Even now I’m in my living room
watch romantic comedies
alone
and I know it’s going to leave me
with that lonely sad-shit feeling
in my stomach,
like when I look at old pictures
of my friends and I.
It bums me out
because things aren’t the same
anymore.
The only thing that’s the same
is that everything will always change
day after day. | |
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| A Poem for Dan II |
There’s something fucking sad
about a world where
Daniel Shular gets robbed,
and I can’t ride the red-line
or walk anywhere alone. | |
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| January 1, 2012 |
This past year
had a lot of bull-shit and bad weather,
So I slept past noon most days
and forgot about my GPA.
My friends and I were ghosts
haunting downtown
and late-night diners.
I read a lot of Ginsburg
and watched a lot of Garden State.
The local Hardee’s burnt down,
and there’s a metaphor there, I think.
I found a bouquet at my doorstep.
There’s a metaphor there, I think.
I’m not really sure what I think anymore. | |
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| My Anxiety. |
Do you ever get nervous
and start to think to yourself
"What if I wake up and everyone who
ever loved me, doesn't love me
anymore?"
and you tell yourself
"Well, they won't do that
because they love me." but
I remember when I thought I
loved you. Then I didn't.
Then I left. Jesus Christ, I hope
that I'm the only person
like me in the world.
I don't think our hearts could take
it if someone else was
as anxious and moody as me.
I'm too afraid
to sleep anymore, because
I'm afraid I'll wake up
alone. | |
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| I'm Gonna Be on MTV Mama |
I used to buy flowers for girls.
then, they’d sit on a window sill or next a bed for a week.
then they’d die.
I used to paint pictures for girls.
then, they’d hang on a wall or lean against a shelf
then, they’d collect dust and fall.
I used to have a panic attack daily.
I used to believe in ghosts.
Now, I write things down
and the words still mean something.
Now, I sleep less and talk more
and I fall in love.
Now, I reach out and get burnt
but then I try again.
I’m a lot happier now.
I still get sad, but it comes and goes.
I’m learning to love people.
Even those who hate me (and I think there’s a lot.)
And it doesn’t make a difference in the world. | |
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| 9:15 AM |
This morning, I looked out the window and saw death, death, and more death.
I closed my blinds and went back to bed | |
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| Special CIA Napkin. |
i’m losing my mind piece
by piece. everything’s
coming undone, everything is slipping
out of hand. i am tired, i am lonely,
i am afraid, and
i am nothing like my mother hoped.
ask Hemingway.
ask Plath.
ask Cobain.
ask Curtis.
i guess it’s true.
some things just
catch up to
you. | |
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| Doubter. |
Did you ever hear that if you put your ear to a sea shell
you’d hear the ocean? Well, I put my ear to a conch my mom brought
home from her dozenth trip to Florida (God, I hope she moves there someday.)
and all I heard was the fluids in my ear and brain. I listened closer
and still heard nothing. Admittedly, I went in skeptically so maybe the faith wasn’t there. i guess if you believe in something enough it’ll come
true. maybe. Did you ever hear if you step on a crack you’ll break your
mother’s back? And when you were angry at your mother did you ever stomp
on a crack in hopes of snapping her spine? I hope I wasn’t the only one. I’m glad I didn’t believe in that enough for it to happen. And do you ever want something
so much that it hurts? It’s something you write in your notebooks every
day. It’s something you think about at night while you wait to sleep. It’s something you’d sell your left hand for.
but it never
happens.
Maybe the faith isn’t there.
Maybe I’m not believing hard enough.
Then I remember Thomas.
He lived, traveled, and ate with Christ. Yet,
he still doubted the resurrection.
I am Thomas.
Show me the holes in the hands
and I’ll show you some faith.
Is this a test?
I was never good at these sorts of things. | |
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| First Entry. |
It’s dark too early this time of year.
My fingers hurt too much to write anymore,
but if I don’t write how I feel
I swear to God I’ll lose my mind
again (and it’s something that’s really hard to find)
and that has never worked well for me.
I’m in the passenger seat of Ryan’s car
listening to the “only good Milencolin song”
and it’s not that good to begin with.
We start talking about how
some people I know weren’t so good to me.
And they weren’t so good to Jerry or Ryan.
Bukowski once said
“People are not good to each other.
I don’t ask them to be,
but sometimes I think about it.”
And right now,
I’m thinking about it.
My heart feels nervous.
And I’m unsure who to love
anymore. | |
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