?

Log in

24 December 2008 @ 12:44 pm
Mmmm  




 
 
04 September 2008 @ 04:58 pm
Suddenly, I began laughing. And laughing. And laughing. Laughing harder than I could ever remember laughing in my entire life. Television shows I had watched a dozen times before were now hysterical. And Scarlett trying to explain the thoughts running through her mind? Enough to make me cry.

I could hardly speak, and when I was able to form words, I could tell I wasn't making any kind of rational sense.

As soon as the fits of laughter curtailed, I began to do some serious thinking-- at least, I thought I was. Looking back, though, I didn't really come to any concrete conclusions.

I had recently watched "The Science of Sleep," and at one point I felt as if my hands were as large as Stephan's were during one of his dreams.
 
 
02 September 2008 @ 04:25 pm
It is a curse of the young, to mistake romance for love.

romance

(1): something (as an extravagant story or account) that lacks basis in fact


love
(1): unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another


You're welcome.

Tags:
 
 
02 September 2008 @ 12:59 pm
As we neared the bottom of our first bottle of whiskey, we also neared the bottom of our gas tank. The light had been on for some time now, but in those days, it was pretty much always on. We could never afford to fill the tank, unless it was courtesy of my mom, and even then, we drove until the light was back.

Once we had realized it was back on for good, we stopped off in some small town in Vermont, that apparently only had one gas station—a gas station we were unable to find before the car muffled to a halt, despite several scenic tours of the town. In retrospect, my idea to only step on the brakes for pedestrians and traffic signals probably worked against us. I refused to pull over and ask where the gas station was, in fear the car might not accelerate up the next hill.

After we were able to compose ourselves from a frantic, acid-like laughter frenzy, we stepped out of the car and started walking. Sort of. Although the car broke down in what appeared to be the most desolate part of the town, a man in a station wagon stopped to assist us within 30 seconds.

“What happened here?”

“We ran out of gas.”

The man offered us a ride.

There are certain lessons all parents teach their children. Keep your hands to yourself. Look both ways before you cross the street. Don’t go swimming alone. Dial 911 if there’s an emergency.

“Do not accept rides from a stranger” definitely falls into that category, and it’s likely the reason we both paused. We exchanged glances (each wanting to accept the offer yet unsure as to what the other was thinking), and after deciding we were on the same page, we hopped in. An empty beer can fell to the road when I opened the passenger door. Most would take this as a warning sign; desperately wanting the ride, we chose to act as if we hadn’t noticed.

“You know, I’ve got a daughter about your age,” he said. “If anything happened to her, I’d want someone to help her out.”

Now I don’t have any children, but I’m pretty sure that if I had a daughter I wouldn’t want her to get into a car with a random, middle-aged man, for any reason. And I’m pretty sure neither or our parents would have approved of us doing it either, but that was a thought we had long pushed aside.

“But you know, she has AAA, so she’s pretty prepared,” he added. We didn’t tell him, but we had a AAA card too. Pressed for time and unwilling to wait around for service, he was simply the more attractive option.
 
 
 
We laughed and laughed. Together and separately, out loud and silently. We were determined to ignore whatever needed to be ignored, to build a new world from nothing if nothing in our world could be salvaged. It was one of the best days of my life, a day during which I lived my life and didn't think about my life at all.
 
 
 
25 August 2008 @ 10:09 am
Stumbling into journalism was nothing more than an accident, really. It came about during my freshman year in college. Music had always been my passion, and after discovering that, through journalism, I could attain access to free cds, dvds, and concerts, I knew I had found my path. When I came across the idea of interviewing bands and being able to hang out with them backstage, I was ecstatic.

Suddenly, at 17, I found myself sitting backstage with Gabe Saporta and Tyler Rann from Midtown, one of my favorite bands. I knew there would be drinking and foul language and drugs, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't taken aback the first time I witnessed a roadie crush up an oxycontin pill, snort it, and then put his head through a door frame. But that's just the beginning.

My freshman year in college was one of the most exciting times in my life. Having never spent much time away from home and always drowning in the responsibilities of schoolwork and sports, I had dramatically underestimated the extent to which I would take advantage of my new-found freedom. From day trips to Montreal, New Jersey, and NYC, to mid-week tours of eastern Canada-- I wanted to experience it all. And to top it all off, I had found someone who was more than willing to come along for the ride.
 
 
21 August 2008 @ 01:30 pm
When did power shift from a means to an end?
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 01:13 pm
She had once possessed an unshakeable belief in love.

Love, she thought, would conquer all.

Charlotte had complete faith in this philosophy, which she had developed through a healthy diet of literature, film, and music in her teen years.

The first time we met, Charlotte demanded oh-so-much of me.

"Tell me something you've never told anyone," she said. "Be brutally honest."

She was enraptured by the idea and believed it would instantaneously bring us closer together-- a sense of intimacy she longed for.

"You read too many books," I replied.

Would she ever trust so wholeheartedly again? Probably not. As we grow older, it becomes infinitely more difficult to invest trust into anyone or anything. Romantic ideals all too often flee the heart, replaced by disappointing experiences, which we come to label 'truth.' Some of these ideals may peter out one by one, or, for some, a particular incident may cause them all to vanish in one fleeting second of time.

As soon as it entered my head, the thought disheartened me.
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 01:10 pm
It has been one pretty cool August in the northeast.
I'm not saying I'm skeptical. I'm just saying.
Tags:
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 11:43 am
What to do, what to do... someday

_live in california
_road trip across the united states
_vacation in london
_write a book
_write songs
_follow all dreams
_continue education
_write a screenplay
_visit a film set
_write for rolling stone

What to do, what to do... now

_keep a journal
_write everyday
_read everyday
_see romance in all
_learn to play guitar
_stay in shape, run
_eat healthier
_more whiskey
Tags: