“write something every day for one year.”

day#238

8.26.10

she passed out in my bed and i was glad when she left.  my love burns out like a flame.  she read my blog and sent me a text “we shouldn’t see each other anymore, it sounds like you’ve found someone new.”  new jersey.  iowa.  new york city.  seattle.  los angeles.  summer getting over yeah it’s over again before it began you know it in a touch and a kiss that you wanna let her go.  what i am supposed to do?  inscribe on the internets text messages carnal rhymes vulnerable eyes.  she’s got a boyfriend now.  and she’s married with children.  and you are 31 text messaging with drunk college girls at 140 in the morning.  alone at the keyboard you type.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#237

8.25.10

she said you were incredible.  incredible.  another day kisses you from 4am beyond.  you can beat the heat if you sleep underground.  underground.  i yawn wide and smoke a pipe.  acid reflex hiccup dishes.  it’s late and i like being alone.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#236

8.24.10

after dinner we rolled around on venice beach getting pacific sand everywhere.  the moon was full.  the waves were high.  couples went for walks on the pier.  and we were together.  i fell into a bliss.  i still got sand in my hair.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#235

8.23.10

i must admit i’m in a kinda afterglow awe right now.  it doesn’t always feel like this.  the moon looked full as it was rising over hollywood.  i took the cahuenga pass to the 101 north and got off at laurel canyon.  parked my truck on ventura blvd across the street from katsuya.  walked through traffic to a 45minute wait for 1.  outside they were celebrating a japanese festival (odon, i think it was called) fishing for little balloons in water.  i went for a walk across the la river.  there was construction going on with detours, temporary walkways and bridges to cross.  the moonlight shined on the los angeles river.  we exchanged texts and you said you would come meet me even though you already ate with your family.  i changed the reservation to a party of two and i waited with my blackberry on a bench outside.  it was a warm night in the san fernando valley.  from the moment you arrived everything got better and it was perfect.  after dinner we went to the firefly got a drink and a seat on the couch.  sauvignon blanc and a mojitio.  your wide almond eyes, your hand on my thighs and your kiss on my lips.  dancing on the streets walking back to your car.  we stayed in your honda and listened to freebird till it was 3am.  the moonlight glistening off your cheek in my hand.  i can feel it coming in the air tonight. . . phil collins sang and we smiled and we laughed and we kissed and we gazed and we couldn’t say goodbye just yet.  and when you kiss someone and touch someone like you really mean it.  true affection.  back at my truck on ventura blvd, goodbye and goodnight and good morning.  laurel canyon winding through the hills becoming crescent blvd in hollywood.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#234

8.22.10

5am in bed with a purple pocket notebook and a pen and a pipe got nothing on.  scribbling away till the dawn.  poetry is a lifestyle.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#233

8.21.10

i told her i was like peter pan.  we were chatting on facebook for hours.  we got real.  we got deep.  we got hot.  i wrote her poems and sang her songs.  and we haven’t even met yet.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#232

8.20.10

you slept over and we watched “fort apache” naked.  we made it 45 minutes in till we both passed out.  henry fonda, shirley temple, john wayne, victor mclaglen and ward bond.  that jack ford knew how to make movies.  woke up and you were gone and my day was here.  angelino shabbat shalom.  every time i see you falling i get down on my knees and pray i’m waiting for that final moment you say the words that i can’t say.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#231

8.19.10

i was back in my bed and i wanted you.  subterranean by design underground in los angeles.  i found a letter that you wrote me like it was 1996.  walking around in your summertime clothes/in the summer in the city.   

“write something every day for one year.”

day#230

8.18.10

carry me home.  3000 miles from where i was born.  a city of angels.  a city of light.  this must be the place.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#229

8.17.10

i woke up late and went to the gym with my father.  he was smoking a joint behind the building when i finished with my workout and walked outside.  we drove back to my parents’ house.  i showered and got ready for the game.  there was traffic on route 9 heading east through wellesley passing through newton and brookline.  i smoked a bowl with the windows down and tuned boston radio frequencies like it was 1995.  88.9, 92.5, 92.9, 93.3, 93.7, 94.1, 94.5 95.5, 98.5, 100.7, 101.1, 101.7, 102.5, 103.3, 104.1, 104.5, 105.7, 106.7, 107.3, 107.9, repeat.  heard the breeders “cannonball” and turned it up.  i parked in the parking lot next to temple israel, the house of worship of my family.  finished the pipe as some drunk college girls peed behind their car while their guys waited for them by the stairs.  i was walking down brookline avenue heading towards fenway park on a hot summer night in boston.  moriarty met me outside of copperfields and we moved through the crowds of yawkey way.  big nez was working and holding it down by the ticket entrance and we caught up outside the stadium while the game started.  we made it to our seats by the bottom of the first.  we drank bud light.  pedroia got a standing “O” for his first at-bat since coming off the DL.  he struck out but the sox won 6-0.  buchholz looked nasty.  he really has matured since trump set him up with a woman who would become his wife and the mother of his child.  dmac hit a solo homer over the monster in the bottom of the 3rd.  kalish hit a grand slam with two outs in the 4th.  by the 8th inning we were all hanging out up behind sec 19 with mr. luce.  me, moriarty, nez and even damambro walked by and got in the mix.  he was there with some co-workers.  the crowd sang “sweet caroline”, SO GOOD, SO GOOD.  and it was.  after the game i texted jen page and used google maps with gps on my blackberry to find my way to her apartment.  i parked on tremont st.  we sat on her roof and smoked.  the midnight skyline of boston.  i tried to kiss her goodbye but ended up with a slice of pizza instead.  on the drive home 92.5 the river played “building a mystery”, “don’t look back in anger” and “shakedown street” taking beacon west st to cleveland circle up to route 9 west passing through newton and back to wellesley.  exited at weston road.  smoked a bowl on the front steps of my parents’ house.  looked out on the street where i grew up.  and said thank you for this day.