The Best Part

... is that you still look.

On the other other hand...

When your ex compares your failed relationship to the Twilight novels, you may be better off alone. I truly feel sorry for the new guy.

... nah, not really.

I should check ID's, I could have sworn she was in her later 20's.

On the Other Hand...

Bootstraps, motherfucker.

Challengers

At the end of the day, for all of my protestations, I never stopped loving her. I was in enormous pain (physically and spiritually), on (prescribed) drugs for the pain (physical, not spiritual - that's what the tequila was for), and at the lowest point in my life. She was the only light that shone upon me. So, naturally, I snuffed her out and she went away. I couldn't even bring myself to discuss what I was feeling with her. I just sat there and let it happen. She warned me that I'd regret it, and this was not the only thing that she was on point about.

Now I pine for her, and this is a revelation, for I never sit woefully and mourn the past. She has found another place and I sit stagnant and remember what few good times I allowed her to find with me. And this is what you get. Moving on is hard for me, especially in November.

Our song was truer than I'd like it to be. Star cross'd to the end.

I know, boo-fucking-hoo. But, I had been in love with her for years. I'm not sure that I had ever loved someone so strongly and so passionately. Yet, when I had it all within my reach I couldn't quite grasp it and hold on. My myriad neuroses and second guesses wouldn't allow it. It isn't as though I can put myself in that place again and fix the problems. That time is long past and the fact that I still think about it is a testament to two things: the strength of the feeling that I had for her, and the gravity of my pathetic well of self-pity.

No, I am not trying to repair the past, merely the present. I just want to do better the next time, should I ever feel this way again. I want to learn from my mistakes. Can one glean lessons from such a complete trainwreck? Can I? Or should I just avoid the train altogether in the future? I'm leaning toward avoiding the train.

Sleep Escapes Me Still

Oh why can't I sleep?

Insomnia would be a boon if I could be creative during its frequent visits to my home.

Nope.

You see, for me, insomnia causes my brain to relax just enough that thinking is almost impossible. During these periods the information in my waking brain approximates this:

buzzzzzzzzzzzboredbuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzbills bills billsbuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
wonder whats on TVbuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzhungrybuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzI like piebuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzLou Reed's best solo record is definitely The
Blue Maskbuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzor maybe New Sensationsbuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz(nods off momentarily)JERKS AWAKE WITH A STARTbuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzthat Russell is definitely the worst thing about BB11buzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Like that.

So writing is nearly impossible. Just thought I'd share.

Guiltless Pleasures

A guilty pleasure is a thing that brings joy; but one would, I assume, want to keep secret. I don't have a single guilty pleasure. Oh, I like things that people make fun of me for; but they aren't secret and I feel no guilt regarding them.

I love Duran Duran. For a Rolling Stones fan, that might seem to be a guilty pleasure. However, Duran Duran introduced me to import music and the world of independent record stores. I would never have shopped outside the mall for music nor read great publications like The NME or Crawdaddy had it not been for my search for the acoustic version of "The Chauffeur" which was the b-side of an obscure pressing of the "Rio" 7" single. Were it not for my desire as a kid to hear the remix of "Tiger Tiger" available only on a 12" remixes compilation which was exclusively available in Japan, I never would have discovered Husker Du, The Replacements, or Dead Kennedys. Simon LeBon's off-key crooning of "Save A Prayer" was the least of my concerns as I hunted that 12" single, for there was a remix of "Hold Back the Rain" secreted on it's flip side and that was my absolute bestest most favorite Duran song of all time. While I was there, I also picked up a used copy of Nashville Skyline, my introduction to one Robert Zimmerman.

Wearing my love for these New Romantics on my sleeve opened the door for lots of other little pleasures for which I hold no regret: TV's Big Brother, the campy 1966 version of Batman, Def Leppard, Dolemite, McDonald's, and that greatest of all pleasures, Miller High Life.

Too much concern is given to what others think of us. Me, I'm too busy drinkin' and listening to "Girls on Film" to care.

Communication Breakdown

My desire to write ebbs and flows along with my creativity. I'm using a lot of said creative impulse to write songs again. This is a good thing for my music, but bad news for the bloggies. Never fear, dear reader. I haven't forgotten you, for you are the reason that I keep writing.

Also one of my favorite bloggers, Monica Bielanko , has a wonderful idea that I will both be passing on to you guy(s) and taking advantage of. You should, too! The instructions are at her blog and I also have a direct link to The Great Experiment posted on my page. Pssst... that big red button... over there to the right. The big, red, shiny button. Push it.

Good luck!