Eulogy

There was someone I knew for a short, but long time. Someone who was different, much different than any other person I've ever met. Not because she liked a certain kind of music, nor because she liked art. Not because she liked ice cream and french fries. Even though she did.

She made art out of life, out of luck, out of time.

Unlike myself, she was always running out of time. Running out of life, and never had any luck. And all of that shaped her, and ended up changing me too. She lived, like there was no tomorrow. Because for her, there might not be. Maybe that's only half true, but I'll explain that later on.

I first met Alex through a friend of mine, James. Crazy fellow, always known for breaking rules intelligently. Someone I admired. He'd talked about her like he admired her, and I felt I had to do the same. If James admired anyone, they had to be interesting.

I wasn't wrong.

When she stepped onto the train, I didn't believe it was her. She was dressed as if she was just working on Wall Street.
First words are sometimes a very good judgement of someone's character.

"So, who's this statue James?"

We ended up going to a racing meet that night. I didn't have a car to drive, just tagged along for the adrenaline. When James uncovered Alex's silver BMW Imported Twin Supercharged Silver X5, it was just as astonishing as her initial appearance.

"Re-built it myself."
"I'm impressed, Alex."
"You would be."

I'd driven with James before. A man who knew the limits of his car and his driving. Wrecklessly safe.

I decided I'd ride with Alex. A decision that would change my life.

It was the first time that I've ever had a conversation with someone at 130+ miles per hour, completely calm and regular. The first time that I've heard someone quote Niechtze while listening to a russian piano sonata, with their life coming so close to ending. But not. I grew to know that feeling, to love that feeling. I rode with Alex for at least two more race meets, and each time it was the same. She was able to outwit me in advanced conversation, without losing focus on keeping us from being wrapped around a tree.

It was poetic how she handled herself, how she drove, how she lived. Beautiful poetry. Vivd, deep and meaningful to those lucky enough to witness it.

I watched her stand up to guys that had cars far more powerful and maneuverable than her. And still come out ahead. Why?
Had she lacked the fear that plagues us all? Fear of death? No. That fear was greater in her, than in anyone else I've known.

One night, doing many times over the speed limit in upper New Jersey, she told me.

"I'm dying... Much faster than you. Or at least I hope so. For the first time in my life, I'm actually afraid."
"If you're afraid, then I'm much more afraid. Because you aren't afraid of anything. You're strong though. Much stronger than
anybody I've met. And smart as well. You can't go wrong either way."
"You are so naive sometimes."

It made sense, in an odd way. I didn't realize it at first.

She called me one night, quite late. She said she needed something, and that I should come up to meet her at New Paltz. It was a long drive, but I was willing to do it. Why? I guess it was because I felt urgency in it.

We in a parking lot next to the southbound Interstate. Me, in my beat up 92' Honda. Her in her amazing, new X5.

"Follow. And try and keep up, if you can... And Phil... Watch your back okay?"

That night we raced, and I pushed my car faster than I ever have and ever will again. I far exceeded it's recommended limits, the state's recommended limits, my life's recommended limits. Instead of letting the adrenaline take over my mind, I listened to piano sonatas, and mulled over existentialism.

Our paths intertwined all over that Interstate, flying at incredible speeds. So close to death and yet so alive. Unbelievably alive. Weaving in and out of unsuspecting road warriors, people stuck in monotone.

I was freed from the bounds of being afraid of death. I accepted my life for what it was. I accepted what little time I have, what little time we all have. We continued until I reached my home, almost over two hours.

We stopped in a field on the side of the road. We sat on the hood of her car. She hugged me.

"Thank you, Old friend. I feel like someone finally understands me. All I hear is how sorry everyone is. I wanted to live, that's all. And I have. Thank you for being my companion in that, thank you for risking your life all of those times. Thank you for everything."

I said this to her, and I'll say it again.

"Thank you Alex. Thank you for showing me that living like there is no tomorrow, really is so much better. Really is an amazing feeling. Thank you for not giving up hope, not until the very end. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for this trip, especially. And I'll miss you, deeply old friend."

She had an art out of living, out of savoring coming close, but missing. Savoring the terribly good luck that we all suffer from.

For Alex, never let moments slip away. Live, because you can and she can't.

I'll miss you. We all will.

Until we meet again, old friend.

White

I lie back in your kitchen chair. It creaks from my weight, as I lean onto it's aluminum legs.
The sun is shining through your dusty window. The room is bright with whitewashed walls.
And you glimmer in your white dress. This white world is blinding me, but I remain blissful.
Your eyes reflect the bright light into mine. Destroying my thoughts and erasing my memory,
with pure beauty.

I sit motionless, staring at you as you smile back at me. You love your power over me,
you love my defenselessness. I can't help but love it too... I can't help but love you.
Your long hair moves as you slide open the dingy window. The light intensifies,
until you turn from white to shimmering golden.

Your smooth skin beckons my touch, and I cannot resist the urge. And arise from my chair,
in one swift motion you are in my arms. Our lips dancing to the serenade of the moment.
Something inside me, somewhere tells me that it's okay. The eternal sunshine of my spotless
mind, that's what you are. That's what you'll always be.

Who am I? I don't care. Where am I? I don't care. Why am I here? Even in my deep amnesia
I know. My fingers touch my reason for being here, my lips touch her too. I can't help
but lose myself in you.

"My greatest apologies madam. But who am I?"
"You are mine, and that's all you need to know."

You move out of my embrace, and spin yourself around. Your dress spins up, and so
does your hair. You pause for a moment, and everything begins to spin. In my head,
in my eyes. My world spins around me.

I fall onto your cold white tile floor. My body is deeply numb. You run to me,
and start to scream. But I can't help but smile, and touch your face one last time.

"What is better than love's bliss in death? Surely nothing."

Everything fades to white, and then to black.

"If there is ever an image I want burned into my eyelids, into my timeless memory, the last image I'll ever see, it is of your face. You are too beautiful for words. Too beautiful for me."

deaf

I've always dreamt in silence.

I've always wished the world had a mute button.

Hidden on this universal remote.

But not for the sounds of the crashing ocean,
The sounds of moving cars,
The sounds of trees bristling in the wind,
Nor of animals calling.

Just the voices of all of the people.

I never want to hear my name called again,
Never want to hear the chitter chatter of the worlds inhabitants.
Never want to fucking touch another person.
Or see their emotions dripping off their face.
I know I'll be able to alienate myself when I'm deaf of your sounds.

I'll never have to worry about broken understanding
Never have to hear your voice call out to me again.
Never never never.

I don't want this man I'm attached to,
All I've ever wanted to be,
Was cold and unaffected.

Naked

No One has returned for a guest article.

I've come to an epiphany. I've come to a great realization.
I've found out something I've known all along. I just had
to make it official and real.

The truth is, it's unbelievable how much we toy with our imaginations.
People who understand this are so much better off than people who try
to hide it.

Mostly because, there is only so long you can hold something like that in.
Without showing cracks of what's actually going on in your head.
Open your windows would you? Let some light into that dusty imagination.

Imagine everyone naked, it's much more entertaining on a day to day basis,
and it'll help you feel more comfortable around new people.

Never forget, that we're all sluts and fucks. Even if it's only in our heads.
When has that never counted? Embrace it within reason, and you could never be wrong.

Break down those walls, and shake your butts. Why not after all?
What have you got to lose? A reputation? In the end,
Life's short, and sweet if you know what rocks to look under.

I've spent too much time mulling over my projected image as a person, and not enough time doing things.
Don't make the same mistake.

After all, what have you got to lose if everybody is already naked? ;)

Food for thought I guess.

i guess i've sealed my own fate.

karma has a funny way of coming full circle eventually.

maybe i'm being vain.

i can't help but think i do deserve it.

maybe i've forgotten why.

it'll come to me eventually.

fade from your life

all those sleepless hours,
laying in bed,
have got you no where.

your ideas are all trapped in your head.
with no place to go,
but into tainted oblivion.

take another swig baby,
and let those bad memories
fade from your third eye.

let them flow out,
like blood from a sliced vein,
splashing out onto paper,
leaving deep red stains,

take another swig baby,
maybe they'll finally find their way
to your fingertips.

you think you're made of steel
when you're really made of glass

they can't see you like i do,
they are all trapped in their own metaphor
scratching on the glass of the windows to their heads

wishing somebody would take a peek
or a picture

take another swig baby,
and let those bad memories,
fade from your dreams

fade from your life

games

the world plays games.
it's a little known fact,
but a heavily experienced one.

should you give up hope?
not in the least.
just give up hoping for what you hope for.

hope for that which you will never have,
and obtain what you wanted all along.

maybe i'm crazy,
but lucky too.
lucky to be unlucky.

i enjoy the ironic game i play.
i guess i'm shooting for an impossible score.
or maybe i'll get just what i'm after, after all.