August 19, 2010
On an otherwise picturesque day boating on the Hudson, it suddenly struck me that the helicopters were flying overhead because a portion of the bridge’s superstructure had fallen into the water. I wondered if anyone I knew was up there. Maybe it was a gust of wind, maybe it was a strong river current, maybe it was a fly landing. Like a row of dominoes toppling over, truss after truss was pulverized to dust. Good thing they’re building a new bridge. They’ll probably break ground about ten years from now.
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August 18, 2010
Last night under a clear bright summer sun I was driving the 1993 Mitsubishi Diamante that broke down on me two years ago through the streets of what Tarrytown, NY would look like if it were fused with frequent ancient roman fountains. When I made a left turn onto a cobblestone street, I noticed that the road ended suddenly and proceeded up a sharp set of stairs. For a moment I considered trying to drive up the stairs, but the gap between the plateau and the top step grew ever more imposing with each second I hesitated. I veered right, proceeding into a squarely spiral underground parking garage complex which at each floor provided breathtaking ocean vistas. Spiraling down the levels, I finally arrived at my intended floor – the ground floor of the garage, set at least 50 feet up a steep cliff side. The open design allowed the salty breeze to strike my face. I realized I was completely alone, and decided to head back topside, but I’d managed to lose my car in the moment I’d turned my back to it. However, there was a vertical conveyance nearby. Rather than an elevator cab, it provided two pads on which a person would stand as they were lifted vertically by the mechanism, which seemed to spiral upwards like a screw, passing through narrow slits at each floor. For fear of dismemberment, I decided it would be best not to ride this unusual paternoster. Once again appreciating my new found free time with an ocean view, I noticed what look like dirt on my otherwise clean shirt. Before I could remove it, I realized it was a spider, and in fact there was not one, but hundreds of spiders, crawling all over me. And at the very moment I felt a spider preparing to crawl into my mouth, open as I screamed, my BlackBerry rang, and it was my father. He asked if I wanted to go vacation near the ocean.
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August 13, 2010
In the dark it was already hard enough to see, but through the dirty glass window, it was obvious that the two men circling the outside of my friend’s new car were not interested in being our friends. When I saw a fist lay down a futile strike against the tempered glass windshield, it became more obvious that without swift action this situation would continue to escalate.
I pulled a self-defense spray out of my pocket, positioned it in my hand, and released the safety tab. Exiting the car from the rear driver side door, opposite the attackers, I knew I only had a second before they would be in swinging distance. When I aimed at the nearest attacker and fired the spray, I realized it was aimed backwards, and unable to avoid being sprayed, a small amount hit me in the left eye, causing it to immediately unleash searing pain before welling up with tears and swelling shut. But undeterred, I aimed a second time and hit the attacker square across the bridge of his nose. He grabbed his face and screamed out loud as the same symptoms affected him. The second attacker was hit just as easily and likewise became immediately overwhelmed by the powerful irritating effects of the pepper spray.
In their stupor, with only one functional eye, I managed to lay down a few good punches and kicks to the both of them, before dragging their unconscious bodies to the nearby curb. And when the police showed up, you’d have figured they’d be interested in what happened, but the officer told me to wait while he took an accident report.
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August 12, 2010
In an abandoned and half-forgotten remote winter lodge, built decades before a nearby high-rise hotel which cast an imposing shadow, I wandered aimlessly, separated from a friend who was probably busy being unconcerned with my well-being and admiring her own vanity, photographing herself in a bathroom mirror somewhere nearby. The stone walls and chandeliers in the lobby were all quite impressive, but a trip down the corridors revealed the usual dilapidation one would expect with a building this old. I couldn’t help but notice that one room drew me in magnetically, and one drop ceiling tile might as well have had my name on it. I stacked some books on top of a chair, and stepped up so the tile was within reach. I gently lifted the tile upwards and placed it out of the way above the other tiles as nearly a century of dust and cobwebs lingered above my head. Unfortunately since I couldn’t see whatever I was supposed to find, I carefully stuck my hard-hat covered head above the ceiling line, carefully turning my head to provide a view inside the plenum.
And there it was – my father’s wallet. Not the wallet I gave him recently for Father’s Day – the wallet I caused him to lose years before – still stuffed to its britches with credit cards and a collection of business cards that any Rolodex would be jealous of. Inside there was still exactly $200 cash. Unfortunately before I had a chance to even step back down off the chair I realized I was no longer alone, and my new yet-to-be-acquaintance was not someone I wanted to be acquainted with. When I stepped down off the chair, and saw the dark-haired woman wearing a business suit watching me, I realized the jig was up, and I surrendered.
“Take a seat,” she said, motioning to one of the many couches I failed to take notice of earlier in the cavernous lobby. She asked about my interest in her building – which I knew was not hers. As I explained to her my fascination with this particular abandoned hotel, not mentioning my father’s missing wallet, I noticed her hair was much lighter than I remembered from moments before, and it was as though she was now twenty years younger. We were laying next to each other on the floor beside the couch which I never got off of. We looked each other in the eyes longingly and I kissed her.
And if it weren’t for the foul taste of cigarettes which permeated her breath, I wouldn’t have kissed her again.
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December 5, 2008
We were hanging out in my room. We sat around smoking killing time, when I stood up and realized I was completely undressed. I stood there and cracked a few jokes without attempting to cover myself up at all. Chris left to go somewhere, but left Dustin behind, although she left the immediate area as well. I must have put some clothes on, because before I knew it, the doorbell rang and I was answering it.
On the other side of the door was my dead maternal Grandfather, the way that he looked when he was healthy. He gave me a hug and said he was back. Every sensation about him was right, down to the smell of White Owl cigar smoke on his clothes. I called for my brother, “There’s someone here you should see,” and he came down the stairs as I ran up. I was angry, yelling about how I didn’t believe it was really him. No one wanted to be around me because I was so angry.
My Grandfather had brought with him a young cousin of mine. As I was sitting in my room, at my computer, still venting frustration, I noticed that Dustin was keeping my cousin entertained by playing some kind of game. Her and my cousin walked into my room, although my cousin was covered so no one could see the costume. I mistakenly complimented the covering, to which she replied if I liked that, to just wait. She removed the covering to reveal my cousin in a well-tailored skull outfit.
My brother walked back up the stairs, and had one of his band mates with him. He introduced us, but his friend proceeded to pass out on my bed. “Make yourself at home!” I blurted sarcastically. I warned him that I would probably steal the comforter from off him while he slept. At that moment, I realized that there was not only a party downstairs, but that it had gotten completely out of control. I looked at the clock, which said it was almost 3am. So I started telling all my brothers friends to leave. Naturally no one was happy about this. I watched people stream out of the house into the front and back yards. People in the front yard were getting into vans, cars, and even a limo that lined my street. My back yard was being torn up by the mob. Someone had apparently found money in the backyard somehow, so people were digging holes in the grass in search of more.
Despite the flood of people in the streets heading to their cars, cars were actually arriving. When I opened the front door, Melanie C and Meghan R were there, both drunk, wanting to join the party. I told them the party was over, but they came in anyway. When I insisted they leave, they said they couldn’t drive because they were drunk. Somehow, they convinced Dustin to drive them home in a van which I suppose belonged to them. Another car arrived, Chris was back, this time with Justin S, Danny D, and some other people I hadn’t seen for a while. I also told them that the party was over. Justin gave me a hard time and also insisted that I show him how the party had ended. I walked him inside for a moment and he grudgingly accepted that the party had ended. I shuffled everyone back down the steps, as I heard people making comments about how I deserved to get my ass kicked for ending the party. I walked into the guest bedroom facing the front of our house, and watched as the crowd continued to disperse, albeit slowly and sloppily. I realized I didn’t say goodbye and watched as everyone left and I was alone again.
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November 4, 2008
Wasn’t it just perfect?
That the doors were left unlocked to this utility room
I guess sparks just fly / when you and I / contact eyes
Imagine just you and me / producing all this place’s electricity?
I didn’t forget / but can’t you?
Could he ever love you / like I do?
We’re almost caught, and we don’t belong here
So when that stranger sees us, run
Even here, when you run, I can’t keep that pace
Even in dreams, you’re the most beautiful thing in this place
I must have missed that part where we discussed
How we trust / in the strength of water and concrete dust
You’re hotter than quicklime, and you’re burning me
Hell is life without you for eternity
Don’t you like letting our bodies explore?
Isn’t this great / don’t you just love the decor?
Condensate pipes, exposed wires, and a concrete floor
You, I’d dream anything for
“Have you seen her? She’s tough to miss
If you should find her, tell her that I need her kiss”
When I finally find you / now who’s that right behind you?
Curse the daylight that takes you from me
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