3A

3A?

How are you?

I miss you.

The times we had.

I spent the winter with you. And you taught me a lot. About myself.

How many nights did we spend with the lights off and the music on?

How many hours did I lay with you in the dark, realizing so many things?

When I moved in, the landlord told me the spots on the ceiling were from people smoking heroin in the kitchen. And in all honesty I thought that was pretty cool.

Not that people were smoking heroin, but that you had the scars to prove it.

The floor was still covered in dust, painter’s tape all around the ceiling.

Your shitty/awesome black and pink 80s-era tile in the bathroom was a major selling point.

The first night I spent with you, I was scared.

The old building that you find yourself in creaked and settled, and it scared the fuck out of me.

Your radiators would breathe and hiss, I learned to love it. We would scare everyone that came over. You would spit and creak and I would pretend to not even notice.

They would ask “Dude, do you fucking hear that?!”

“Hear what?”

“All the weird fucking noises your place is making?!’

“Nahhhhhhh.”

You harbored my inspirations, body and mind when I began to write.

With you, I was able to hide away from everything for a bit and focus my interests and energy into something I had wanted for a very long time.

You saw me stress out and let myself be upset.

You saw me lavish in success when I was finished with a piece.

I won’t even begin to talk about all the different forms of myself that I exposed to you.

Introverted to outgoing.

Happy to sad.

Pathetic to strong.

Lost to found.

Found to lost.

I didn’t hold back with you.

My friend made a joke about “heroin demons”, but it lingered in the back of my mind. You were scary, okay?!

How many times did I lay in bed at night, head altered swearing I could feel something watching me? How many times did I expect one of these “demons” to show itself while I lay silently?

You had no demons, only the ones I brought with myself.

And you helped me get rid of some of them.

You showed me a little bit of myself.

A little bit of who I was.

A little bit of who I want to be.

A little bit of what I want.

A little bit about other people, the way they work, my feelings towards them.

A little bit about the world.

3A?

I cherish our time together.

I miss you.

I love you.

am i crazy.

Have you ever stared at yourself in the mirror?

Taking in your features.  Eyes, lips, hair, chin, cheeks, ears etc.

Have you ever gazed deeply into your own eyes and questioned yourself?

My mind is a fucked up place.

The things I say in there are things I would never say out loud.

The scenarios and ideas. The thoughts and processes.

You wouldn’t look at me the same if I told you the things I was thinking.

Some times I don’t even try to think them.

A word, image, sound will trigger a chain of events that leads to sick, crude, disgusting thoughts inside my mind.

Is this normal? It has to be… right?

Up until recently, I didn’t realize that other people really thought or had their own thoughts. The idea that the way I act or speak can and does affect people is a little mind blowing. I mean, I knew that people thought and acted independently but I guess I never really considered it much.

Have I ever said anything that upset you? Hurt you? Offended you?

I’m sorry.

Have I ever done anything that affected your day? Your week? Your year?

I’m almost not sorry, because it’s life. If I hadn’t done these things would you understand me like you do? 

Isn’t it the fucked up, terrible things that make us truly appreciate the good?

Are most people going along mindlessly? Like fucking droids. Told what to do.

Some must.

I don’t know if it’s my impending day of birth, or if it’s some other unknown force that is finally aiding in the dawning of such ideas within myself.

It’s confusing. Frustrating. Sickening.

I like it.

It helps me feel human.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my life, with work, with writing and volunteering that I go into auto pilot.

And more often than not I don’t notice.

That’s why I appreciate these times in my life.

Questions, realizations, sleepless nights, restless days.

A raw look at myself.

An evaluation of spirit.

lack.

I have been uninspired with this lately.
I'm sorry.
I'm genuinely at a loss of things to write.

So, I'm posting pictures.
Enjoy... or don't.

I was supposed to post these last weekend and got too lazy.

Hi.

Ride. (meditate). (a love story, pt. 2)

It had been awhile since Lucille and I had cycled for pleasure.

Commuting back and forth to work hardly counts as fun.

We had the chance, so we stole away into the night.

We followed Trax out of downtown. The big, lighted beast was wary of our presence but still we rode in stride. It flashed and rang but didn't chance passing us.

We slowed and let it rumble by then quickly took to a side street.

We were met with headlights at the far end of the street.

I was spooked.

I turned us around and the lights began to follow. 

My heart fluttered, as my pace quickened.

Paranoia gripped me, but you took us away. After a few quick turns the lights were gone and relief washed over me.

Were they following us? I was being crazy.

We swerved down dark roads, sweeping back and forth with the music that filled my headspace.

The musical crescendos gave way to incredible views of the sky, the long lasting buildups were topped with beautiful displays of street lights and buildings and trees and construction zones.

We broke onto a street full of businesses.

With traffic hot on our tail, I got low and dug deep.

We flew.

Up, up, up

the street that was flooded with orange light and littered with cracks.

Lucille and I ended up in the park.

Scattered shadows, benches and trees.

A skatepark where many people still were.

We were a ways from home. It was late.

We wanted to stay out.

Do you remember the street where we saw things?

We were about to go down this street.

Something felt strange.

Things were...moving in the dark?

I removed this notion, we did however, still not go down this street.

We left for home. 

Sad because I would rather stay out until the early hours of morning and ride.

I felt as though my legs could keep going, forever.

Soon, we'll see how far we can go.

While I was out on this ride there was a feeling that came over me, almost overwhelming.

Zen? Peace? Some sort of tranquil shit?

In these moments there was no worry in my mind.

Just I and Lucille.

The road and the city.

Is this what people meditate for? To connect to the world and things around them? To tap into their own thoughts and perhaps even get to know themselves just a little bit better?

Night Riders.

We had walked back to collect our bikes.
The ache to ride was nagging and we were impatient.
We had taken the shitty Wal-Mart bike and made Dustin a steed worthy to roam the streets with Lucille and I.
With Chi-Chi the Silver Wolf and Lucille along with Dustin and I, a backpack full of beers, a lifted sense of mind and the cool evening air we began our journey and blazed towards downtown.
South Temple took us to Main, which we cruised down relentlessly. No stops, no prisoners.

We doubled back from 400 S. back to 200 S. and made our way to a particularly pretentious bar.
We, however were not there for the shitty looks, we were there to feast.
Outside this particular bar, on most late Saturday nights, I find my favorite food truck in this whole city.
I showed Dustin the ways of gourmet burgers, hot dogs and fries.
We feasted upon these delicacies and some incredible brews for fuel to continue our ride.

We headed back into the city.
We took another trip down Main. I fucking love riding up and down that street.
We met with my girlfriend at Wasted Space to walk her home.
We had also acquired a new riding partner, Kevin.

With girlfriend home, a few more beers and a bit more clarity we left my home and made rounds at the bars.
Not stopping, only riding by to ring our bells and shout at patrons outside.

We slithered our way through city streets to Liberty Park.
We drank more beers and bullshitted for awhile. Kevin had to leave around 2:30am.

Dustin and I made our back into the city once more.
U,  a now empty, Main Street.
Past parked cars and meaningless traffic lights.
Signs and the occasional oblivious, white-girl wasted couple.

The streets were ours.
We took up whole lanes. Two Lanes. The wrong side of the road.
All of it, abandoned and left for us.

3:30am we headed home.




Life is very fragile.
If you have the chance to make friends, if there is someone you want to make friends with my suggestion would be to do it. Regardless of your comfort levels, your inhibitions, your pasts and your presents and your futures. Step past them and embrace those people. It's worth it.
A year ago I realized this, and a year later I have been reminded.

Trip.

I was recently able to get out of Salt Lake City for a few days.
I decided that it would be best to head to my hometown of Elko, Nevada.

Elko is where I grew up.
My father and mother still live there, in the same house, that they have lived in since I was in the 5th grade.
Their house is full of love and memories.

My friends are also from Elko.
Our group is tight knit, fun, rowdy and loyal.
It's been probably a year since I was home last, but I was greeted as if I had never left.

My family and friends took care of me so well. It was humbling.

I also had the pleasure of taking Kacee with me and introducing her to everyone.
She got to see where I came from and learn a little bit more about me through interactions with my friends.
I'm glad she had a good time, as she is always welcome there among all of us.

These captured moments don't represent even half of the memories I made.

I love all of you.