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 |   My first blog about my life, my favorite music, my opinions, my feelings. Whatever. |
This is the first blog I've ever had! You'll have to bear with me because I'm still learning how to do this whole thing. I'll admit that it's bit of a mess right now. I started blogging for "The Soundtrack of Your Life"  and I couldn't just let it end there! I don't think there's any point in keeping a separate blog for all of the blogging groups I want to join. I'm going to keep them all in this one so I can grow into an eclectic pot of confusion.What you'll find here:  My opinions on everything. Blog prompts for various groups. A different song everyday that means something to me. Experiences I've had in lifeWARNING This blog is rated GC and will contain offensive language, stories, and opinions. Please don't read if you're easily offended! My intentions aren't to offend anyone, so trust my warning and turn back now or forever hold your peace!  Things I'll be using this blog for:  "The Soundtrack of Your Life"  "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"  "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" I want to hear from you! As I mentioned before, this is my first blog. I'd love to hear from anyone who reads this. Leave a comment, rating, or review. Let me know what you like to read about. Have a suggestion for me to write about? I'd love to hear it. The best thing about a blog is the exchanging of opinions between bloggers and readers. I want to keep us all interested. Plus, it's just nice to get a little love sometimes. Let's get to know each other.   Charlie ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **   ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
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Artist: Elliott Smith Album: Elliott Smith Song: The Biggest Lie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDKU3QO_Gf4 Lyrics The ride back home is understandably the most awkward few hours of your life, scolding your stupidity the entire time. Emmy keeps trying to play her crappy, obnoxious skate punk bands like Lagwagon and NOFX. You like them too, but in comparison, they're just crappy, especially on a morning like this. You switch it over to some Elliott Smith, just to really set the mood. You're happy to have a cool, grey day on your side. "So what, you're mad at me now?" Emmy fidgets, uncomfortably, driving with her knee as she lights a cigarette and blows the smoke in your face. "You want one?" "Well, I guess I might as well now that I've already inhaled it, yeah?" "Jesus, what's your problem?" She glares at you as you snatch the box from her hand. The silence is overpowering. Have you ever seen someone for the first time after knowing them for months? It's like that. You sit there picking apart every flaw, and God, there's a lot of them. The way she bites her nails down to the skin, her peeled black fingernail polish that has been there for weeks. The way her cheek piercings make it look like she's sucking them in from her mouth. Her fake eyelashes, her dyed hair, her fake leather coat. All of it hits you at once and just makes you sick. "What are you looking at?" She flicks her cigarette butt out the window and rolls it up so the wind isn't too loud to have a conversation. You don't say anything, just staring at her still, wondering why you're so angry. It's like an out-of-body experience. You're watching yourself thinking, I should stop. But you can't, can you? No, you have to let her know how angry you are, how much she has hurt you. How else will she know? It finally gets to her and she snaps all at once, "What do you want? You can't honestly be pissed off at me. You just can't." "Oh yeah? And why exactly can I 'just not' be pissed off?" You even use the air quotes with your fingers. It's a sad scene. "Wow, okay. You are really a piece of work, Charlie. Has anyone ever told you that?" Her cheeks are red and she swallows hard. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know we were just sleeping with whoever now." She looks at you in disbelief, checking the nearly empty stretch of highway every couple seconds. "You're serious. You're actually serious about this. You sleep with whoever all the time. I've never once gotten mad at you about it." "Nope, sorry. I never slept with your best friend. I didn't expect you to just lay down for him. That's my best fucking friend. I thought you were different than that." Emmy jerks the car off to the shoulder of the highway and physically slaps you across the face when you demand to know what she's doing. "The only reason you haven't slept with my best friend is because you are my best friend." Her eyes start tearing up and you realize this is the first time you've seen her cry before. She isn't really the type, so it really catches you off guard. You sit there, stupidly, not saying anything. You just hold your cheek where you've been hit and feel the warmth of blood flowing to it. She just breaks down crying on the side of the road and you have no idea what to say to make it better. You lean forward to put your hand on her back and she shrugs you off saying, "Do not touch me." At least five or ten minutes pass, but it feels like an eternity as the soft voice from the speakers lulls you into a dark place. You wish you could just take it back. It would be better for you to be upset alone than voice your opinion and make Emmy cry. You make note of that for next time. Finally, she turns the car back on and wipes her face, her black makeup smeared under her eyes. You start to apologize, but she cuts you off before you can a word out. "No, just don't. I feel sorry for you. I really do. Your head is so fucked, Charlie. It truly is. I'm sorry." What can you really say to that? She isn't wrong. You lean your bruising cheek against the cold glass of the window, watching the rolling fields and trees pass, resigning yourself to the next couple hours of silence. You're aware that you can't take back what you said and your relationship with both Emmy and Noah probably won't ever be the same. Close your eyes and feel the blacktop moving underneath you. Wonder how things could ever be worse. |
Artist: Pixies For reasons unbeknownst to you, you decide that it would be a good idea to introduce Emmy to your friends and family back home. I mean, what could go wrong when you take a city girl with facial piercings and introduce her to country folk who think black fingernail polish is edgy? Everyone seems really excited to meet your girlfriend. It must have had something to do with sticking it to your parents though, because you tell them that Emmy is your girlfriend while you deny it to your friends. Probably because they kind of know the circumstances surrounding the relationship. You don't want to be that guy who is in puppy love with a married girl.Album: Come On Pilgrim Song: I've Been Tired https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ve9P3AMbaA Lyrics You have to hand it to her though, she didn't change for anyone, showing up in a too short miniskirt and lacy black thigh highs with her freshly dyed pink hair. Emmy had a car that was actually Roger's car. She had a lot of things that were hers, but they were in Roger's name just in case things didn't work out, and they weren't actually married even though they had been together for five years. Either way, she offered to make the long drive back home, excited to meet the people who 'shaped' you. Emmy claims that everyone is made by the people around them, and that's what makes everyone so different. There were signs that you knew this was a bad idea. You chose to make dinner arrangements first with your parents before seeing your friends. There was a subconscious reasoning behind this. Your parents pick an upscale Italian restaurant and make reservations. You and Emmy arrive about twenty minutes late because she kept having to stop and pee after drinking an energy drink on the way down. Your parents don't have a chance to scold you because they're in complete awe of your girlfriend's appearance. Your parents both look at each other, then stand up slowly. "Hi, you must be Emily," your mom says. "Emmy, and yes. Nice to meet you." Emmy holds her tattooed hand out and shakes hands with both of your parents. Your dad gives you a dirty look as you take your seats across from them, but smiles when Emmy looks his way. "So, Emmy, we've heard a lot about you. It's great to finally meet you." You actually haven't told him or your mom anything about her. You just called and said you'd be down that weekend for a visit with your girlfriend. Things start out as well as could be expected, but take a bit of a nosedive during the main entree when Mom says something stupid about Emmy being a vegan. Of course, Emmy couldn't let the comment go and decided to take the time to launch into this lecture about the animal abuse in factory farming. She even likens eating animals to eating humans and talks about cannibalism while everyone tries to choke down their food. It's sick, but you can't help but revel in their disgust as things go from bad to worse. By the end of the meal, your mother has this permanent look of disdain on her face and your father is trying to get the server's attention to get the check. They still do the normal, 'nice to meet yous', but between the cursing and the political ranting, whatever you were trying to do seems to have succeeded. You say your goodbyes and head out for a night of partying at the trailer.   Everyone is curious about Emmy, asking her all about what she did for work and for fun, even though they all knew she didn't have a job. She was like some specimen in a zoo, and it was actually kind of embarrassing for you. Seeing this weird, eager side to these people who you had thought were so cool a few years ago. You started realizing the difference between an actual disaffected person and the quasi-rebellious group you had hung with before you moved. You couldn't believe how lame they were acting, soaking up her stories as though she had come from another planet. Emmy loved it, of course, all that attention on her. But Hannah was off in the corner of the room, drinking by herself, not talking to anyone. She was just glaring, disgusted at the situation, which just isn't her personality. She's usually so bubbly and outgoing, you could tell she was dripping with envy. "So, what, you're like a prostitute for some old guy and he let's you live in his house? Isn't that what you said, Charlie?" Hannah lifts an eyebrow at you, curiously. It was just like her to try to start a fight. She would do anything to get the attention back on herself. "Um, no, I'm not a prostitute. I've taken control of my own sexuality. I don't do anything that I don't want to do and I don't do anything for money or material possessions." All the guys seem really impressed with her answer, nodding and murmuring words of agreement. "Oh, so you would still be with Rick even if he was just a poor guy working at a gas station?" "You mean Roger? Um, you know, Hannah, that would be really hard for me to say. Who knows what they would do in a different situation? I can't pretend to know what kind of person Roger would be under those circumstances." "Right, but he's the exact same. The exact same guy, but just, ya know, poor." "Hannah, please," you try, seeing the impending fight. "No, Charlie, it's fine." Emmy holds a hand up to you, but continues looking at Hannah, who is now smirking from her corner seat on the opposite side of the room. "I'll try to explain it more clearly. You see, when I met Roger, there was something different about him. I could see it in him right away, this charming maturity. I genuinely care about him. So, yes, I would still be with him even if he was poor." This is news to you, and you're not sure what your face is expressing, but you're sure it isn't good. Noah looks at you, flipping his hair out of his face, he tries to convey something with his eyes. You make an 'it's cool' face, or at least you hope you do. Emmy is sitting on the loveseat couch between the two of you, so you're all kind of crammed together and it starts feeling really warm. You grab a half-empty wine bottle off the floor at your feet and chug it just to have something to do with your hands. Hannah cocks her head to the side, crossing her long legs tightly. "So, if you genuinely care about Roger, why are you fucking Charlie?" You nearly spit your drink out, choking on its bitter taste. "Okay, okay. Let's, ya know what, here let's have a toast," Noah jumps up at once, always the peacekeeper, but Hannah and Emmy are staring each other down like alley cats. Jimmy hurries to the kitchen and comes back with mismatched shot glasses. Noah overfills them all with vodka and everyone grabs one except the two new-found enemies. Noah passes one to each of them and holds his high in the air. "I propose a toast to new friends and old," he motions toward Emmy and I and we all down ours, trying to get past the awkward tension. You start scolding yourself as you drink more, even though the mood seems to have lightened a bit. What could you have possibly been thinking bringing her down here like this? It was so obvious that she would never get along with these people. It's so weird when you have two people in separate parts of your mind, you just can't imagine what they would be like together. A game of Mario Kart starts, but you decline your turn and just keep drinking. You're going to have to drink a lot to get through the rest of the night. If luck is on your side, you can just drink enough to pass out early and head back home before anyone wakes up in the morning. It's starts getting really late and you realize you've gone harder at it than everyone else who are still having semi-coherent conversations while the room just spins for you. Jessie decides to go to sleep with Danny in his grandma's bedroom because she has gone back to living in the group home. Jimmy falls asleep on the floor in front of the TV and Chelsea has moved out west for art school. That leaves just you and Noah awake with Hannah and Emmy, who seem to suddenly have an understanding with each other. You look to your right and notice Noah's hand on Emmy's thigh and he sees you make note of it. He rubs his hand up and down a little, still staring at you while Emmy laughs and tells the story about how she jumped off the stage last year and had to get screws in her ankle. Hannah admires the scar and laughs like the two have been best friends for years. You see Noah scoop down and whisper something into her ear, his thumb resting confidently along her strong jawline. She whispers something back to him and Hannah is looking at you from across the room. You must be really obvious in your paranoia, because everyone seems to be watching your reactions to everything. "Well, we're gonna go to bed guys," Noah announces, standing up and stretching casually like it's just another night of partying. You dumbly sit there while they slip into the bedroom through the curtained doorway, your mind moving slower than time. Hannah is next to you in no time, her blonde hair smelling of vanilla perfume. "Are you okay?" she whispers? "What? Yeah, totally," you respond, way too loudly. "I mean, are you really okay with this?" She nods toward the doorway as if you might not have understood what she meant. You shrug, "Yeah, I mean, whatever. It's not like we're together or anything. It's cool." Hannah looks at you sympathetically, and you hate the way her eyebrows express so much pity. "Let's lay down," she suggests, and you move robotically to spoon her closely on the small couch. "Is this okay?" she asks, pulling your arm over her. "Yeah, it's perfect," you assure her, resting your face into the back of her sweater. The worst part is that the curtain separating the Fun Room and the bedroom with the bunks provides no soundproofing. The trailer is completely quiet with everyone either asleep or in the process of falling asleep. You can hear every sound in the next room. You listen for a long time with a lump in your throat, feeling sick to your stomach and finally decide that there may be more to this relationship than you realized. She's a real left-winger 'cause she been down south And held opossums in her arms, she said "I could tell you stories that could make you cry. What about you?" I said, "Me too. I could tell you a story that would make you cry." |
Artist: The Shins Album: Oh, Inverted World Song: New Slang https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYwCmcB0XMw Lyrics You meet a girl with neon pink hair at a dirty venue on the bad side of the city. She's way too into the scene with blacked out eyes and metal piercings on every possible surface of her face. She's wearing a heavy, studded leather jacket even though it's way too hot in the cramped room. She has tattoos on her knuckles and her neck, something you would never see where you were from. You think about what jobs are available for people with tattoos in those areas. You're doing the Sid Vicious Pogo a few feet away when there's a big push from the back and everyone falls forward into each other. She ends up next to you and starts her own pogo off your shoulders. She shouts something in your ear between songs and she reeks of alcohol. You can't hear her, but when the next song starts, she climbs up you and jumps over the people in the crowd. They move her around on their hands, copping a feel when they can. Another band takes the stage and you decide right away that they suck. You decide to step out for a smoke between bands and she follows you out like some sort of puppy. "Can I bum one?" she asks, as you lean again the brick exterior of the building and light up. You pass her one and light it for her while you both laugh because the wind keeps putting the flame out. "I haven't seen you around here before." "Yeah, I'm kind of new to the area. One of my co-workers, Shawn, is playing tonight so he asked me to come." She looks up at you with her dark eyes and you try not to think about how pretty she could have been. "Oh yeah? Which band is he in?" You stutter, awkwardly realizing that you never asked the name of his band. "Ya know, I'm not sure. He said they're like a mix between T. Rex and The Velvet Underground, or wait, maybe it was The Doors and The Velvet Underground. I'm not sure, definitely VU though." She smiles, and you put your non-smoking hand into the pocket of your jeans. "That sounds cool. So, where do you live?" "North side." She laughs blowing a stream of smoke through her nostril. "Oh, wow, fancy. So you're, what, like a prep school kid?" You roll your eyes. You've been running into these people more and more lately. The ones who scoff at the fact that your parents might have money, as though financial stability is the key to all of life's problems. She shrugs, seeing that she might have hit a nerve. "Well, hey, what do you say we get outta here?" You drop your cigarette and stomp it out. "I don't have a car." "Yeah, neither do I. But I live about two blocks that way," she motions with her head, her long hair flipping with it. The next day, you take the bus back to your side of the city and realize that you guys never exchanged names. Scold yourself a little, but spend the next couple days drinking and writing to make up for it. A couple weeks later, you're out getting coffee at the gas station and you see her bright hair in the back. It's not like she could exactly blend into a crowd. She's with some old guy who you're assuming is her dad. He's wearing nice dress pants and a button up shirt. You make eye contact with her, but she has either forgotten who you are or is just avoiding you. You decide that you need to know her name. You might not see her again, and besides, her dad couldn't really get angry about her dating someone who looks as normal as you do. It's not like how your mom would react to meeting her for the first time. You walk back to her and say, "Hey, what's up?" The guy looks between the two of you with his lips in a tight, serious line. "Uh, hey there!" she says, in her bubbly voice. "You know, I was just thinking, we forgot to exchange names when we met at the concert a couple weeks ago." You don't want to be vague and make her dad think something happened between the two of you. No dad is okay with that. She starts talking quickly then, clearly trying to get out what she needs to say before you say anything else. "Yeah, you know, you're right. Um, I'm Emmy and this is my boyfriend, Roger." You can hardly believe it when she motions to the guy who is at least fifty years old. "Ohh, boyfriend? I mean, okay, my name's Charlie. Anyway, I've gotta run so, thanks," you say, stupidly. Why would you say thanks? Who says thanks? You didn't think you would see her again, but you did, and you found out that she had lied about some stuff the first night you met. The apartment you had spent the night in was actually her best friend's place. It turns out, she lived in the yuppie part of the city with Roger, not far from you. He paid for everything, so she never had to work. She was also turning twenty-five that fall, which you thought she might have been seventeen or eighteen by the way she dressed. She didn't really like Roger, even though they had been together for a long time. He worked long hours at some office job that took care of the accounting for a medical company. You started hanging out with Emmy a lot and ended up at his house a lot while he was at work. It was a pretty nice place, but it was in one of those suburbs where all the houses have the exact same layout. You joked around about Emmy coming home drunk and accidentally stumbling into the wrong house. She didn't seem to think it was funny, but it really was amazing. She was practically living two lives, playing little housewife and cleaning during the day, then going out and jumping around at shows at night. There was a while where the relationship was kind of weird. You didn't know what to make of the fact that she actually slept with this old guy every night. I mean, she probably wasn't sexual with him every night, but she did at least go home to him and sleep in their bed with their 1000-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. It was all so weird. You weren't sure how you felt about sleeping with someone who was in a serious relationship like that, no matter how free she acted, she was really a caged bird. In the end though, she had you convinced that it was actually a good thing for you. She said that you could have the best of both worlds. Having someone to talk to and hang out with every day, while still having things going on the side. She couldn't get mad about it because, well, look at her situation. It took some time, but after a while, the whole setup didn't seem so bad. Whether Roger ever knew about it or not, you'll probably never know. You guys didn't talk about him or even really acknowledge the fact that he existed. Between the hours of seven in the morning until sometimes as late as seven at night, she was yours. Then you would just go home and meet up with her again at a show later that night, be out until two in the morning, turn around and do it again. There were long stretches where you went without seeing her for various reasons, but she always seemed to turn up and it would be like you had never stopped talking. Life just went on like that for longer than you care to admit, anything can seem normal given time, and you had nothing else going on anyway. |
Artist: The Jimi Hendrix Experience Album: Are You Experienced Song: Fire https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWqjcXpD7Z4 Lyrics One of your best memories is vacationing in a cabin during summer break. You're probably twelve years old, just before things started falling apart. Everything is carefree and natural. There are no awkward dinners, no shouting, just cooking on the grill and fishing. Things haven't ever been perfect. No one's life is that way. But this is as close as your family will get to it. There's no television, no computer, just a refrigerator and stove in the kitchen. You and your brothers find simple enjoyments in fishing, swimming, and playing basketball with other campers. Your parents seem to be getting along better than ever. They spend the days lounging by the lake while he fishes and she reads one of her true crime novels. In the afternoon, you meet up for lunch before heading back out again. In the evening, you come back to the cabin to see your parents enjoying the sunset from the porch swing, sipping beers. They offer you and your brothers one and you never decline. On the last night of the vacation, your dad hooks up his stereo and plays "Are You Experience" by The Jimi Hendrix Experience on repeat while you all enjoy one last barbeque. After this, your brothers will spend the summer working at their fast food jobs. Your parents will be back to working Monday through Friday and you'll be hanging out at the house by yourself or with your friends. You don't think about that though, just focusing on the feelgood energy and lighthearted conversation of the moment. By the end of the two weeks, your sunburn has peeled and you know you'll be tan for the rest of summer. When you get back home, your friends see you and ask if you went on vacation to the beach somewhere. They laugh when you say you spent a couple weeks running around outside from sunrise until sunset. You shrug off their jeers, because, how could they understand? They didn't know your family like you did. They didn't know how much it meant for all of you to be in the same place at the same time for two weeks without some fight blowing up. Their families did that on a regular basis. The rest of your summer is a hazy blur, day in and day out with nothing much to do. You lose track of what day it is, what time it is, until August rolls around and the dread of school starts. But every day when you see your tanned reflection in the mirror, you think of those clear cabin days at the beginning of summer and how happy you were there. You'll find yourself looking back at that time throughout the next several years, especially when it feels like maybe family just isn't for you. You'll remember those days when the heat and humidity didn't bother you. The days when you had nothing to worry about but getting up and heading out to the lake. You don't care for me I don'-a care about that Gotta new fool, ha! I like it like that. |
Artist: Bauhaus Album: Mask Song: Passion of Lovers https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVSG3Fg0O7A Lyrics You were never a big fan of Valentine's Day, but this was the first year you were single during it. Everyone decides to meet up at Danny's house for a V-Day party. They'll use any excuse to party, that includes April Fool's Day and Earth Day. You're alone at the apartment and still working on getting used to it. It's weird to not have your parents giving you the third degree every time you walk out the door. Noah picks you up, talking excitedly about how much alcohol and other 'things' they've got back at the trailer. He'll be twenty-one in a couple months, but Jimmy turned twenty-one in January, so he has been hooking everyone up since. It's an hour drive each way, but he doesn't seem concerned about the gas money. You usually stay a few days when you come down now anyway, so it's worth the drive. On the way down, he puts one of the CD's in that you made, saying that he likes this one. It's all post-punk/goth music, which is a step up from the stuff he usually listens to. Everyone is already drunk when you arrive and there are a ton of people you don't know. You get anxious when you see all the cars in the driveway. "They're from Hannah's college. Lots of hot girls," Noah says, raising his eyebrows at you. "Charlie, my man!" Jimmy calls, standing with a few people in the living room. He takes your coat and gives you a hug. He may be rough around the edges sober, but drunk, he's like a different guy. "This is Victoria, and Ronnie, and uh... Michelle?" he asks, pointing at one of the girls. You say that you're going to go get a drink. You've gotten really bad at groups since leaving school and living by yourself. You were never really good with them to begin with, but now, you can't even do it sober. The night progresses as nights like this do. Some people end up leaving early, others pass out on the floor. A few head for private areas to hook up, while others don't even have the decency to do that. Two guys get into a scuffle and accidentally break the coffee table in the living room, which incites a lot of cursing and screaming from Danny. Everyone's having a good time. The party's in full swing around midnight or one in the morning. We're all out of our minds. The music's loud and any problems we had a few hours ago are well to the side now. You're standing in the Fun Room when you hear a huge bang and see the trailer door go flying open. In steps this batty old woman with no hair or teeth, just screaming her head off. She's followed by two uniformed police officers and everyone loses it when they see them. People are screaming and running everywhere, but there's only one entrance and exit to the trailer. Someone trips over a lamp and the room goes dark. You feel a set of hands on your shoulders, pulling you to the doorless bathroom. "Through here, go!" You bust out of the window into the freezing February air that burns in your lungs. You're running down the block with Noah close behind. You turn back and see people in handcuffs in front of the trailer. A cop pulls one kid by his shirt and drags him onto the ground, hitting him with a baton. "Oh, shit, man. Should be go back?" you ask, slowing down. Noah catches up and pushes you forward. "Are you kidding? No, keep going." "Can't we just explain?" Surely there's a way out of this without anyone getting in trouble. You both keep running until your wheezing in the cold air. You never could breathe properly during winter. There's a park on the side of the road and Noah pulls you in that direction. You run through the kids equipment. He laughs, stepping on the swings and merry-go-round as he bounds for the treeline ahead of you. He stops on a little bridge that covers a frozen creek. "We should be good here. Man, that was close." "What about your truck? Aren't they going to run your plates and know that you were there?" He looks at you for a second, thinking. "I don't know, God, why are you so negative?" He kicks a stone off of the bridge and it slides across the ice. You stand there catching your breath for a while as Noah walks in circles around the little bridge before sitting down. "So, now you've met Danny's grandma. Don't worry, she won't press charges or anything." You want to ask what she could possibly press charges for, but decide to just drop it. You sit down next to Noah, finally able to breathe freely. "That was crazy," you admit, wondering what would have happened if you got arrested. Would the police make you tell them who supplied everything? Who would bail you out of jail? Do sixteen-year-olds even go to jail? If so, you're sure your parents wouldn't be the ones bailing you out. "Look," Noah points out, a smile in his voice. He leans over the bridge and picks up a little card from the ice. It's a Valentine Day card, gaudy and obnoxious with Be Mine written in pink glitter. "Will you be mine, Charlie?" he asks. "Aw, of course I will," you gush, sarcastically, taking the card from him. But you notice that he isn't joking anymore, staring at you with wide, serious eyes. You realize how close the two of you are sitting together. His gaze is painful, and even though it all happens in probably two seconds, it feels like two hours. He leans in and brushes his lips to yours, then jerks back as if he has just been electrocuted. "Whoa. I'm sorry about that," he says, laughing awkwardly. "What?" You're completely confused. He jumps up, clapping his hands together nervously. "You know, I think the cops are probably out of there by now. We should go back to the truck." "Wait, Noah, you can't drive." "Then the house is probably clear anyway. We can go back in through the bathroom. Hang on, let me call Jimmy." "No, wait. What just happened?" It's kind of difficult to ignore. "Nothing, fuck. Come on. It's freezing out here." He starts jogging off as if we're suddenly in dire need of being back at the trailer. You're not even convinced you should go back there tonight. Noah walks at least six feet ahead of you the whole way back, quickening his pace the second you get near him as if you're diseased. When you get there, Danny is outside with two girls from Hannah's college. "Man, where have you guys been? Jimmy and Jessie just got arrested, we have to go bail them out. Kayla said she'd give us a ride," he motions to one of the girls who looks completely annoyed. "A couple of her friends got picked up, too." "Okay, sure. Let's go," Noah says, heading for her SUV as everyone follows close behind. "Noah, wait," you whisper before he can climb into the passenger seat. "Please, drop it, Charlie. Please," he says even more quietly, looking around as if he's paranoid. "Let's go," Danny says, behind you and pushes you into the backseat. You settle in next to the window and stare at Noah as he does his usual seatbelt check, daring him to tell you to put yours on. But, this time, he doesn't. In her fear she sought cracked pleasures The passion of lovers is for death said she. |
Artist: Joy Division Album: Unknown Pleasures Song: Disorder https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PldpBJEn4vQ Lyrics May rolls around and the clock on that dreaded conversation runs out. Your parents say they want to meet with you at a 'neutral' location, which really makes you mad. You've never done anything to either one of them that would indicate a bad temper or violence issues. Without a real choice though, you walk to the designated restaurant on a Sunday morning. Inside, there are a lot of church-goers who are having an after-church brunch and talking about today's sermon. Your parents are waiting for you at a seat in the back. For some reason, they've become religious too after getting back together. They've been going to church, something they never did when you were growing up. Your mom smiles when she sees you and gives you a hug, while your dad stays awkwardly tense in his chair. You take your seat across from them and say, "Okay, so what's up?" There's no point in wasting time on small talk. Your mother looks nervously at your father and opens her mouth as if to speak, but he interrupts her in his obnoxious, aggressive way. "Your brothers are moving in July. We're thinking you should go ahead and just go with them." You look back and forth at them incredulously. "So, what? I'm being, like, kicked out now?" "Not kicked out," your mom says quickly, not liking that phrasing. "You've already been living on your own. This isn't that much of a difference," your dad mutters as the waitress walks up to see what we all want to order. You refuse to get anything, unable to eat with the stressful news. As soon as the waitress leaves, you lean across the table and hiss, "Well, it's like three hours away. So, I guess you don't consider being three hours away from your minor child a big difference?" Your mom's hands shake as she sets down her coffee. She looks at your father for guidance, faltering under the guilty weight of your stare. Your dad puts his arm across her shoulders for comfort, but continues to look at you, unflinching. "We'll see you as often as we can. It's the city, I thought you would be happy to go?" Her eyes are swollen and she suddenly looks ten years older. "You thought that I would want to be passed off as someone else's burden?" You can't believe what you're hearing. You realize that this means you'll also be three hours away from Noah and your friends. "Just please go. Please go and be happy," she tries again, her voice shaky with emotion that doesn't quite come to the surface. "I'm not going to let you do this to your mother anymore, Charlie. You're going to come back home for the next six weeks, because we aren't signing a new lease on your apartment. Then you're leaving in July, okay? Whether you go with your brothers or not is a decision you will have to make. That's the bottom line." You take one last steady look at the two of them and shake your head thinking, Wow. What a mess. Her, hunkered down like a wounded puppy and him, watching you vigilantly, his arm protectively around her shoulders like you're a rabid dog ready to attack. It's clear that there is nothing left to talk about here. You stand up, your chair screeching against the tiled floor. She pleads with you to just stay for lunch. But it's time for you to go find something to make you forget. You need to leave this world for a while, just binge and sleep for a week. So you stalk out into the humid parking lot, the church folks milling around laughing, and you call Noah. These sensations barely interest me for another day, I've got the spirit, lose the feeling, take the shock away. |
Artist: Brand New The story of your first 'real' girlfriend is somewhat of a messy one. She was dating one of your best friends for a week. Or maybe they weren't actually dating. They may have just been talking for a week when she drops the big "L" word on him. Understandably, he's pretty freaked out by it and tells her that he thinks they should just be friends.Album: Deja Entendu Song: The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0naRFSK2hQ Lyrics You have no idea why or how, but you end up being the one who is comforting her after the 'breakup' that never actually happened because they weren't dating in the first place. You're sitting together on the stairs of a church where all the kids hang out and skate on the weekends. It's the church's belief that you get all the kids together in one place with adult supervision so they're not doing anything illegal or immoral. It works, kinda, until eleven o'clock when they close their doors and release hoards of teenagers into the streets looking for something fun to do next. That night, you're sitting on the steps, waiting for your friends to come out so you can go back to one of their houses to drink and hang out. Tiffany comes up and plops down next to you looking miserable. "He's in there right now talking to Gabby Fuller," she complains. It isn't strange of her to talk to you. You're in the same circle of friends, but you've never hung out one-on-one before. She pulls at her dyed black hair and bites at her lip ring looking completely torn apart by the world. She's going into her senior year in the fall and you'll be a freshman. She doesn't really wait for a response, just launches into this huge speech about what a terrible person you're friend is and how he actually told her that he loved her first. She says that he's a liar and just an immature boy with commitment issues. She claims that all guys are the same and that she's going to be a lesbian from now on. You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, putting your them in the hole on the cuff. It's early summer, but the nights are cool with a nice breeze. You wish that your friends would come out already so you guys could ditch this place and get the night started. Out of nowhere, Tiffany grabs the hand that you've been anxiously fooling with and looks at you with her big green eyes. She isn't that nice to look at, but she's interesting in that damaged sort of way. "Oh, you're such a good listener, Charlie. Thank you," she tells you, still holding your hand. You hate when people stare at your eyes and can only blush in response. That was probably the start of it. She just started calling you every night and hanging out with your group of friends more and more. It took a while, but you got there, too. It was actually the 4th of July when you made it 'official'. You were hanging out at your friend's house and there were a lot of people there with their significant others. They were all hanging out together and you ended up laying on the trampoline with Tiffany all night, watching fireworks. Late into the night, she asked if you liked her. At that point, you kind of did, so you said yes. She said that if you asked her to be your girlfriend right now, she would say yes. So you did, and that was that. The next month of summer break went by quickly, the way summer breaks tend to. It was a couple weeks before school started and you were hanging out with Tiffany in her mom's house. Tiffany didn't have a dad who was around and her mother worked long hours, so you had the place to yourselves every day. It was a tiny, dumpy house, but it was tidy and comfortable with a big TV in her room to watch movies on. You were hanging out one day and she was being overly thoughtful and quiet. You were watching some dumb comedy movie like EuroTrip or something. Eventually, you took the hint and asked what was up. Tiffany turned to you and, biting her lip, said, "I've just been thinking a lot lately, and you know, I'm going to be a senior this year. I just realized, I'm the only one of my friends who hasn't, ya know, done it." You froze, staring at her in silence. "Oh, okay." The two of you hadn't really broached that topic yet. The most you had done was a little making out on her mattress on the floor. It really was a shoddy place with a shoddy girl. "I just don't want to go into my senior year a virgin. I mean, I was saving it for someone who would take it seriously, and I know that's you." It was just that easy. Later, when you would hear about guys who were having such a hard time losing their virginity, you would think back to that day and wonder how they could be having such problems. Things went on that way. You spent your freshman year going to Tiffany's house in the morning, having sex, walking to school together. Her mom would leave for work at six, but she didn't mind anyway, she supplied the condoms. There was a strange routine about the whole thing. It was a really simple time in your life. If there's one thing you know, it's that things change. People change and their feelings change. Your feelings changed. There are things you could blame it on, sure. The pregnancy scare was a terrible week. Tiffany started hanging out with a different group of friends and they were really into senior things, like college applications and senior parties. It was around the new year when things just kind of snapped. You could pinpoint the exact moment, really. It was New Year's Eve when she was at one of the senior parties that you weren't invited to. You told her that was cool with you because you could just hang out with your friends and have more fun anyway. Truthfully, you never really cared about her in the first place. It would take you years to realize that. But for something just snapped that night. Tiffany decided that you weren't fun because you weren't interested in her senior party. She suggested that you get out of your head every once in a while. Things just changed after that. She was fine the next day, of course. She didn't mean anything by it. But that's all it took to make you realize that you really weren't interested in being her boyfriend in the first place. There was another week of winter break after that and you spent most of the time hanging out with your friends and ignoring her phone calls. You hung out with her one time and it was just for that unsavory activity that you had become so accustomed to. From January, you dated five more months and it was for that one reason. It didn't seem weird at the time, but that was the only reason you stayed with her. She was convinced that she was in love with you and became overly desperate and clingy the further you pushed her away. You made yourself as distant and aloof as possible. When she tried to talk to you about the changes in the relationship, you shrugged her off and joked around about how paranoid she had become, the whole time knowing that you were intentionally building a mental moat around yourself. How that worked for so long, you'll never know. Girls seem to be more attracted to the guy who doesn't care. Tiffany fit that stereotype, anyway. She became more loving than she had been since the beginning of the relationship. Her graduation came and went and you stayed as far away as possible, not wanting to meet her extended family or hang out with her mom while she stood in line to get her diploma, even though you had promised to go. It was around mid-June when you realized that you didn't actually need her for what you had settled into using her for. You were at a party with a bunch of your classmates when a girl started hanging all over you. You guys started making out in the hallway. You stopped before things went too far, but it really opened your eyes to the fact that you could finally get rid of Tiffany for good. It took an inexcusable amount of time for you to realize how terrible you had been, not that Tiffany doesn't tell you every chance she gets. She spends the rest of the summer telling all of the girls in your circle of friends that you're a horrible person. She leaves voicemails on your phone, crying and asking why you're doing this. She even tries luring you back to her bedroom, claiming that she's okay with just that. Years later, you can at least try to pride yourself on the fact that you didn't do that. It's hard to forgive yourself for something like that, once you finally comprehend that you've toyed with someone else's life. You saw Tiffany in the administration office at school that fall. She had decided not to go to college after all. Her face looked haunted when she saw you, and you thought about turning on your heel and walking the other way. Instead, she had the humility to embrace you and whisper her goodbyes. She ended up moving a few states away with a guy who was almost twice her age. She had a kid the following year and you never heard from her again. If it makes you less sad, we'll start talking again. And you can tell me how vile I already know that I am. |
Artist: Neil Young You're in the hospital for a week before you realize that no one around you has noticed. You were admitted at four in the morning, so the first couple days are understandable. But after six or seven days, it starts getting a little awkward. It isn't for lack of being able to reach you either. You've had your phone on the food tray next to you all week. It's just that no one has thought to check on you. It's spring break, too, so you let that excuse ride for a few days longer. But at this point, it's clear that you could be in here for a long time before anyone would realize you're missing.Album: Harvest Song: The Needle And The Damage Done https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0t0EW6z8a0 Lyrics The doctor comes in and says you should be released this afternoon, as long as your blood pressure doesn't drop again. Your brother has spent every night in the uncomfortable plastic chair of your hospital room. The rest of the family has come in on almost alternating shifts to make sure you're comfortable and fully medicated. The nurses come in to check your vitals and ask if you're in a lot of pain when they see how many times you've hit the morphine button. Your family tells you not to press it so much, but you tell them that it's impossible to overdose on. It will only release morphine into your IV at specific intervals. They still shake their heads when they see you pushing it continuously. That night, you want to go see Noah at Danny's trailer, but your parents tell you they think you should stay home, just in case something happens and you need to go back to the hospital. They give up at some point though and Noah picks you up in his forest green truck. "Hey man, what's up?" He smiles when he sees you, shouting over the music. "Uh, not much." It feels weird to even talk to someone who isn't a family member. "Whoa, what's this?" He pulls at the hospital band hanging loosely around your wrist. Noah's finger traces up your arm to the bandage over your IV hole. You shrug him off. "Nothing." "Were you in the hospital? Is everything okay?" "Everything's fine." "Did you get any painkillers, or was it like a mental breakdown thing?" Why would that be an immediate conclusion? This is a hard question to answer. If you admit that you have Vicodin, they're going to want you to share. If you say you don't have painkillers, they're all going to assume that 'Ol Charlie lost another one of his screws and ended up in lock up at some mental healthcare facility. But what can you say? You were never good at sharing. "Guess who I just broke out of the looney bin?" Noah announces obnoxiously as we enter Danny's trailer. "Oh my God, Charlie! Are you okay?" Hannah asks from the couch between Danny and Jimmy. You nod. "I'm fine." "What happened?" "Nothing happened, Hannah. Why does something always have to happen with you?" You sigh when you see the look of hurt on her face. Thirty seconds ago, she didn't even know that you had been in the hospital for a week. Now she's all concerned? "Whoa, that's crazy, man. So, do they, like, give you uppers for that or...?" Danny asks, the sensitive guy that he is. "I don't have any pills, guys." You walk over and settle slowly onto the floor, feeling your stitches stretch. You lean your head back against the couch between Jessie's knees. She runs her lithe fingers through your hair, sending a wave of tingles down your spine. "Don't worry, Charlie. I've got just what you need," she says, kissing your forehead. She grabs her purse and dumps out four neon orange prescription bottles as the rest of the room falls silent. |
Artist: The Beatles Step outside and let the first day of spring warm your face. Climb over the door of his car and listen to him shout about it. Remind him that this is the first day of the year he can have the top down. He shouldn't be worried about the formality of opening car doors. You aren't sure how someone could be in a bad mood on a day like this, but if anyone could manage, it was him.Album: Abbey Road Song: Here Comes The Sun https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5E_zXbmrlM Lyrics He squeals his tires peeling out of your apartment complex, eyes straight ahead. You life your hands up on the freeway, feeling the cool breeze between your fingers. The sun beats down on you, and at some point, Noah suggests putting the top up. You plead with him not to and think this is going to be an awfully long car ride if he doesn't chill out. You feel your bones thawing out and notice the blooming flowers and trees on either side of the road. Throw your head back. Reach out for the sun, cover it up to protect your eyes. Fall forward and let your hair fall in your face. "You need a haircut!" Noah shouts, and you unfortunately have to ask him to repeat three times because the wind between you is too loud. Stop at a gas station to pee and when you come out, the top is up. No one seems to be in as good of a mood as you. Can't they see that winter is over? Climb into the car using the door this time. Grab Noah's Ipod and go straight to the song you always listen to on repeat at the beginning of spring. "This is so convenient. The Ipod, I mean, not having to go through CDs." "Can we sort of not listen to music right now?" Noah asks, turning the volume down. "I don't feel well." You haven't seen him in a while, but you've talked to him on the phone and he always sounds out of it in one way or another. You talked to Danny recently and he claims Noah has started using every day. Sit in silence as you make your way down the interstate to see them. You're not sure what to expect. Noah was usually the glue that held the group together when things went awry. Now, he looked like he was going to fall asleep while he was driving. "Let me drive," you suggest, but he waves you off. There's a pause of at least ten minutes before you try again. "So, downers?" He ignores you, keeping both hands on the wheel. The bags under his eyes are telling. He blinks every second or so. "Man, you got it bad." Out of nowhere, he snaps his head toward you. "Yeah, since you have so much room to talk. Who the fuck are you trying to fool, Charlie?" You're taken aback, offended. "I didn't say I was clean. I was just pointing out that I didn't know you had gotten this bad." You motion to him as if his slumped, sad stature is Exhibit A. "Yeah, well, a lot changes when you abandon your friends for a year." He goes back to his zombie driving. "Whoa, hold up. I didn't abandon anyone. I was forced to move, remember?" "You actually weren't. You know you could have stayed with me. You just like playing the fucking victim all the time. Like, 'Oh, my parents don't like me. They're kicking me out. Wah." He holds up a finger like he's arguing with the windshield as he stares straight ahead and continues. "I mean, I literally told you that I had an extra room at my grandma's house. You were just too proud to ask." When you're sure his rant is over, you lean forward, grab the Ipod, and turn on Ain't Too Proud To Beg. If it's going to be that kind of drive anyway, you're going to make it as awkward as possible. |
Artist: The Smiths You start having trouble deciding who you are. While others stand around and debate about religion or politics, you just kick yourself because you have absolutely nothing to contribute. You feel like a doorknob with no opinions on anything at all. You find yourself treating people like Fabergé eggs because you don't want to offend them. They all seem so black and white while you float alone in the grey. "This is okay and that isn't okay. I like this and don't like that." You feel people getting irritated with you when they ask how you feel about something and you have nothing definite to contribute.Album: Single Song: This Charming Man https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzexP58si0w Lyrics You're free now. As free as you've ever been, anyway. You find yourself around anyone who will have you. It's hard to be new in a city, to not know anyone. You spend your time with the first co-worker you meet at your first job. She's terribly immature, even though she's a year or two older than you. She has her head in all of these high school dramas, while you've been out of school for a couple years now. But you fall into the pattern of having her for a while, then deciding she's despicable, only to have her again for a while. There are so many different people in the city though. They're all living different lifestyles and you find that you can experience so much more there if you only open yourself up to it. You make it a habit to involve yourself with as many people as possible, staying busy to get out of your head. There are parties that you're terribly underdressed for and dive bars that you're overdressed for. You never seem to get it quite right. When you talk to your parents, which is rarely, you tell them that you're having such a great time and you're just a little too busy to stay and chat. When you hang up, you go through your phone contacts and make a choice of what kind of night you're going to have. Being underage still and living a few hours from your parents has turned out to be one of the best experiences of life. You find out which bars you can get into without an ID and meet a guy who makes you a fake that is terrible and most likely wouldn't fool anyone who took more than one second to look at it. During this period of your life, you only listen to The Smiths, The Cure, Bright Eyes, Elliott Smith, and Bob Dylan. It's those five bands that guide you everywhere. It's those five bands you turn to when you've had such a rough week, you don't even know what day it is or where you were the night before. You wake up multiple times in unfamiliar places, in compromising situations and think, I have to get out of here. I have to stop living like this. But every time you end up at your house for a couple days, the loneliness sets in and you're flipping through your contacts again, finding somewhere to go. You don't write. You don't read. Your latest journal sits half completed for months. You can't even process your life, let alone concentrate or stay awake long enough to write about it. You have no ambitions. You have no willpower. You feel you've been cheated somewhere, but you can't put a finger on the exact spot. You can't show where it hurts. Furthermore, you've somehow gone through your entire life without knowing anyone, even yourself. Why pamper life's complexity When the leather runs smooth On the passenger's seat? |
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I really had to purse my lips to contain my laughter at this post...I didn't want to look too crazy doubling over from
