J: Why do you have a QUEEN of HEARTS cigarette case?
P: (Laughs)
J: A QUEEN of HEARTS...!
P: Because...
J: No, you don't understand: QUEEN! HEARTS!
P: Right. The queen represents women in general, and hearts is for Love. These are perhaps the two most lovely and mysterious things on this earth, therefore...
J: And cigarettes? (Still skeptical)
P: Those are for coping the lovely and mysterious...!

There's something about pain...something that makes you feel like you are strong and capable; to have blood dripping from a smashed knuckle, or the burn in your arms after you have been pulling on wrench above your head while sprawled underneath some filthy car, or even the bruised-rib feeling of sleeping on the floor for way too long; these things give a sense of pride and dignity. I look at my blister-covered hands and scarred shins. My back is knotted up like an old sea-rope. My face is stubbly and all my clothes have holes in them. Yet, somehow I feel more a man than ever before. The aching brings on a wry smile, a smile that makes you want to walk tall and confidant as you face the world, surrounded by loved ones, and still somehow alone...Strange, that.

"Don't take your guns to town son, leave your guns at home Bill, don't take your guns to town." -The Man in Black

O





HELL





YEAH





!





FLOGGING MOLLY

Sitting outside on the hood of my brother's beat-down BMW under the orange glow of a streetlamp I taste the bitter-sweet smoke of a Nat Sherman Black & Gold and talk to a dear friend on the phone. It is very reminiscent of another phone call from the hood of a car not so very long ago; but then there was pain, intense pain, and the sinking feeling of real loss as our words faded, empty, lost in the boiling summer heat. This conversation, however, was comfortable, caring; a simple sharing of life, and the ease that comes from real understanding. The night air is chilly and my sock-covered toes wiggle to keep warm. The stained, rusty hood under me is comforting; reminding me that God is here, that He cares--- for this car would not still be taking me places without His mercy. Many thoughts run through my head...I complain too much. There is no real need for worry. Life always works out if you have faith; and sometimes it's strangely nice to think that in a sense you have on occasion been the 'me' in that old song, 'Me and Bobby McGee': free and homeless and down, but full of life and singing and sharing what little you do have. I crush the pretty gold butt of my cigarette on the sidewalk and hear the old graceful ballads distantly in my mind. The phone clicks softly in my ear: bedtime for all. Funny how just someone's voice can carry you through anything when you know they care...

If the earth could speak
What truths would leak
Mysteries buried deep and safe
Our minds they creak...
Our souls wander like the waif

"I am afraid." An interrupted prayer
Sitting, lying---shaking there
Upward, forcing through a pensive frown
Reason peeks out like a cat behind a chair
But says nothing. Calmly straitens her gown

"Have you nothing to say, O reason?"
I, who against thee before have committed treason?
But the stars look on
For there is no season
When chilly flowers ignore the dawn

And cryptic I am
For it is but God to Man
Not for the knowing but the doing
From all I ran, O how I ran
But it is not for my knowing; but God's doing

It occurs to me that having a particularly close friend is perhaps the very best way to learn some of the most basic and essential things in life; such as: forgiveness, patience, humility, charity. It is only when you love someone deeply that you forget yourself enough to really put them first, and the more you do this, the more you develop habits and build these virtues. Maybe that is why married couples are often so amazing and admirable: they are faced with the greatest test of their ability to live outside themselves, because they must do this every day for the rest of their lives. For me, this makes marriage and family rather terrifying, but also unspeakably beautiful: for isn't selflessness that which we as Catholics seek the most? Looking to others, but good friends in particular is essential to living a good life; I think people, and our dependence on them, is the greatest gift that God has given us.

It's 5:03 in the morning and I'll sitting here blogging. BLOGGING of all things. Why don't I just go to bed? I don't normally have an addictive personality, but somehow I must blog. (Sigh) I am such F**king perfectionist. Never content with 'almost', or 'good enough' unless I am so stupidly tired that I'm not able to care anymore...I even dreamed about perfection last night!

But I ramble...(That's what I get for staying up late)

An observation: if the world around you is too disordered, you begin to develop disorder in yourself no matter how hard you try; and this applies to environment, but also to the people you spend time with. However, too strict of order becomes strangling and disorder grows as a reaction to the sterility and inhumanities. So as with most things, there must be moderation, drifting on one side or the other depending on personality...As for myself, I am losing my mind where I am at; I don't handle chaos very well...God? Is this a test?

And now, to the sweetness of the cables/electronics/screws/dog hair-strewn floor and crusty blanket that I call my bed; Sleep take me!

I seem to go through life with an odd flip-flopping motion: for a little while I am very laid back, focused on discussion and friends, writing poetry, reading, thinking...then I get in crazy motivation mode where I work from morning light to after midnight like a fiend and get butt-loads of work done. Then slowly I burn out a bit and calm down and begin to appreciate everything that is good and lovely again. This behavior strikes me as just one more throwback from being the oldest child growing up; and the upside is that I am capable of accomplishing a lot more than a lot of people...but this can also leave me feeling very used and tired and left out. I guess everything in life has trade-offs. Right now I have just fixed two cars, got the rest of the part for the go-cart I am building, fixed up my computer, started training on web design, am in the process of learning electronics...

Death Valley, almost 600 miles, and GREAT music: Flogging Molly, The Be Good Tanya's, Dylan. LISTEN to these people, it is good for your soul. Adventure is such a nescessary part of life...like eating dinner in a cemetary

after Mass and cutting the cheese for your french bread with a rusty machete

...uh, yeah.

Blacktop Fairytale

The deep desert sky slips us by
Like the endlessness of drifting off to sleep
Humming tires and an open-window high
There are no troubles left to keep
On this flight of spirits

Sand and rocks and heat so dry
The world has taken on a loneliness content
Perfect music persuades a sigh
We pray good fortune our way be sent
On this 80mph view of adventure

Fading sun against the towering black hills
Lend an awareness of living
From the back seat a whistle trills
For now it is easy to understand giving
When you live by faith

Destinations are not always known
But the trip is for the driving
Hungry and wind-blown
The road means more than the arriving
One hand on the wheel

Cold stars in a desolate sky
As darkness falls across the valley
In our travelers a glint in the eye
Nowhere but here we wish to be
The gears give off a sweet friendly hum

So listen to the call of emptiness
Find for yourself the mud in the dry lake-bed
Remember that not all must make sense
When poets are being fed
All on a baking blacktop fairytale

Just a thought:

So enthused, so intense
Trying to straddle every fence
Often making little sense
Alone with nary a defense

Books unsteady beneath his arm
Crooked hair and glasses charm
Gasping out a lengthy yarn
Still gangly-legged from the farm

Wrapping up his world so tight
Squinting in the heady light
Sure that this is all so right
Accepting all without a fight

On he sprints from books to words
Always returning for seconds and thirds
Spoon growing cold in rotten curds
Forgetting even the friendly birds

And now so tired, thudding fall
Trudging down the classroom hall
The liquor leaves an unhealthy pall
Bangs his head against the wall

At last gazing at ceiling bare
A taped-off smoke-detector stare
Dawning creeps stealthy through the air
'Not yet. No. Not there.'

Ash flies on the breeze of a morning new
Sprinkled with diamond drops of dew
Withdrawn now among the few
Beginning to see what he has to do

Forgotten books, coffee cold
No more running to teachers old
Quiet, but now in queries bold
Resting only in the Lord, I'm told...