That's a fact, Jack

Joe loved "A History of Violence"

that is all.

actually, it's not.
something is up. the restlessness that usually plagues me during spring has made a rather dramatic and ill-timed appearance in my life.

it's fucking autumn. i should not be like this.
i feel like joining the circus, but not really.
i need something to do. someone to do it with. and somewhere at which to do it.

jeez. 
my mind is flying.
it's like i'm tweaked out or something.

:: where does it go ::

Rage! La rage contre le mourir de la lumière.

apparently feelings just aren't supposed to last.

even when you etch them into metal with a laser.

c'est la vie.

A l'enfer avec la vie!

La perte de quelqu'un si merveilleux est pénible.

Je ne sais pas où être dans les vies de la plupart des gens. 

"Hell clearly does not serve any interests of its residents."

I guess it's called Sweet Executioner

i am the sweetest executioner
but i'm not here to hear you weep
my only emotions are brazen mutinies
your only reactions are screams of joy
i am the sweetest executioner
toiling through nights to ease your pain

i am the company you won't keep again
leaving behind your tales of woe
truth is an ice pick, and while i'm stabbing you
your only way out is to ask for more
i am the sweetest executioner
touching your skin instead of letting you go

i am the masterpiece of distraction
casting the shadows on your doubt
fear is a constant, hunger a fickle friend
your only release is a wicked sin
i am the sweetest executioner
plotting my sweet revenge on your love

i am the last breath a fire takes
snuffed in the darkness deep in you
memory is random, and choice is just as cruel
your only grace is the saving kind
i am the sweetest executioner
ready and willing to begin again

i am the sweetest executioner
but i'm not here to make you weep
my only emotions are failing mutinies
your only reactions are horrific smiles
i am the sweetest executioner
one last job to ease our pain

9/19/2005
manic

quote unquote

Dear God, whose name I do not know - thank you for my life.

This is what you're doing on Sunday

If you need directions, leave a reply here, drop me an email, or just give me a call.

Don't hate the amateur digital photographer on rollerblades taking pictures of deer, hate the game..

i played hookey on friday, first time at the new gig.
i still can't believe i'm getting paid for what i do, even when i'm not there.

shot myself a round of golf. had fun.
saw 40-Year-Old Virgin yesterday with Frank and Mike. had fun.
worked the pub last night, which was very slow. made some dough.
played pitch-n-putt at Mo'Ville Golf Farm and got a hole in one. had fun.
also saw Must Love Dogs (with another man, even). great film.

but the important news is this:

Sunday, September 4th.
Labor Day Weekend.
Two Weeks from today.

CRUCIAL BAR-B-Q!

Free food, free beer, tons of fun, and live music by The Frantic.

at my place in beautiful downtown Yardville, New Jersey.

There will be more details and shit to follow, but all of you simply must mark your calendars because it will be one for the books. 

your tax dollars at work...

even

you can't forget me
'cause you never knew me

all of your stares 
and your lies pass right through me

the times that we kissed
you were kissing a stranger

the nights that I held you
you were sleeping with danger

and all of your words that I chose to believe
are prayers that I heard over deaths that I grieve
and all of my words that you won't hear no more
are lives that I'll send you to even the score
even the score

there's laws of attraction
and that's what you're breaking

I paid the price
and my hands are still shaking

a year of my life
now it's over and gone

guess my only revenge
is to keep moving on

and all of your words that I chose to believe
are prayers that I heard over deaths that I grieve
and all of my words that you won't hear no more
are lives that I'll send you to even the score
even the score

I can't forget you
'cause love isn't like that

and I don't regret you
but you'll never get that

I don't believe
there were any mistakes

just a difference in score
on the gives and the takes

and all of your words that I chose to believe
are prayers that I heard over deaths that I grieve
and all of my words that you won't hear no more
are lives that I'll send you to even the score
even the score 

bzzzzzzzz

there is a connection to something larger.
whatever you want to call it, whatever makes you more comfortable discussing it.

I felt it rather strongly again Friday, while standing in the sand.

sometimes in life we are in a place where we can't feel that connection. it is not ever truly gone, no matter how tenuous it becomes, but we no longer feel it in ourselves. like driving through a tunnel with satellite radio.

the signal is still there, even when we are not receiving it.

i am going to plug in and hear it. loudly.