Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Young Sport


Young sport

You'll always have someone that thrills you more than me. More than the distant sense of invulnerability that you project on my faithfulness and adoration.

We live on the Horizon, how fitting — where the surface of the earth and sky appear to meet, but never touch.

There will always be another —
for there has always been another.

Tectonic plates shift beneath the surface of your desire. but I have made  peace with that now.
For you were born to fall in love.

I was an earthquake in your California.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Groom Candidate, not boyfriend.

Over the last couple of years I have found myself in the most awful position when it comes to dating. I get the feeling that women, who I’ve known and liked — excluding new people I’ve met, have come to regard me as this awkward crutch for their future: A sort of Plan B/escape route/fall guy.

It seems like I’m only seen as a  great resume and less as someone to foster a romance with. I’m everything they think they want for the future, but nothing they want yet — or ever worse, everything they want now.

To be fair, on paper, I’m not terrible:
  • ·      Single, no commitments
  • ·      College graduate
  • ·      Career/ steady job
  • ·      No kids
  • ·      No debt
  • ·      Never been married
  • ·      Non-smoker, social drinker
  • ·      No drug habits
  • ·      Great relationship with my parents
  • ·      Great relationship with brother
  • ·      Family-oriented
  • ·      Loves dogs, tolerates cats
  • ·      Likes children, overall
  • ·      Lives in New York

Truth be told, I pack a punch when it comes to the crazy. It’s not a surprise. It’s my instant disclaimer. I’m volatile, sardonic, blasé, arrogant and dogmatic.
Some may even say: je pète plus haut que mon cul.
But these women seldom care about discovery. Learning these quirks and mannerisms. What for, the CV is solid, no?

They establish a desire and magnetism, but then just as quickly place me (and other men, I mean it’s totally plausible) into either of the following categories: Cryogenic boyfriend or Instant husband.

In the Cryogenic Boyfriend type, women put me on some sort of layaway. Establishing how in the future…they would like to end up with a guy like me, probably me. Once they sort “themselves out” and become a better person, and all that bullshit. Not now — but in the future, yes. And forever? Definitely.

In the Instant Husband type, the rest of the women I know want to jump ship and abandon their current situation altogether — elope. Just run away with me to start a new and happy life.  Forget everything that makes them unhappy, and figure somehow things will work out beautifully as they do in Disney classics.

These situations stress me out. I’m not ready to commit to a future without learning the best way to avoid collapse. I want to be a boyfriend. Who gets into fights, and learns, adjusts, and re-learns.  I want that weekend trip. I want to describe the potential to my friends while inebriated on a Thursday afternoon. I want to tell my mom I’m happy, not — suddenly engaged.

I just want to embrace imperfection.
And dedicate my free time to kindling a trusted companionship.
I just want to be with someone that wants to be with me now, regardless of what the future may bring. And be here to go through the mechanics of dating and courtship. C’est impossible?

Tuesday, June 5, 2012


There is an inherent rift between us that has the eloquent tendency to keep us apart.
For years I tried to attribute it to circumstance. Poor timing here, unfortunate chance there.
Wrapped in the complete darkness of a sleepless night, I knew we loved each
other deeply. I knew we could become something greater than ourselves.
The hopeless romantic I tend to be, mind you, to a detrimental degree, thought: Everything is math. Things will work out as long as we believe. As long as there is love, every other detail becomes microscopic and insignificant, because the core of it was present. Which is harder to come by.

I don't know where you belong. I don't know where I belong. I just feel like we don't belong together. I belong nowhere near you.
And it breaks my heart. Because if it's not you, it could be anyone. I'm nothing that you need — and that is all I could ever hope for. To be needed. To be an essential factor. To be wanted.
To be missed. To be held. To be trusted. To be regarded as important and almost be seen as dependable.

Somewhere in our mythical daydream, we failed.
And that's what it is, I suppose. An endless tear in the seam.
The vast canyon of our indifference.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Last Year

(Good old, transcribing songs by hand. Pausing and "rewinding" every 15-20 seconds. Listening ever so closely.)

Best Coast - Last Year 

(from the upcoming sophomore album, "The Only Place")

I used to believe in diamonds and things.
Used to believe in you and me.
But now I believe in nothing.
I used to wake up in the morning and reach for that bottle of glass.
But I don't do that anymore.
Kick my habits out the front door.

And I'm always talking to somebody else,
and she doesn't even know my face.
I don't know how I feel.
I'm all over the place.
And when I go out I don't feel anything
I just keep on spending my money.
One day it will be gone.
and then I'll have to write another song.

What a year this day has been.
What a day this year has been.
Please don't get me wrong.
I just don't know where time has gone.

What a year this day has been.
What a day this year has been.
Please don't get me wrong.
I just don't know where my mind has gone....

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Irregular Heartbeat

Whether it's detrimental or instinctively necessary for self-preservation, my perspective on love hangs in the delicate balance between absolute romantic hopelessness and nihilistic fatalism.

Monday, May 7, 2012


A man just wants to have more women, regardless of the attributes they possess. 
A woman always wants to find a better man, regardless of the attributes her man already has. 

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

El Destino

I once asked God for a sign.
Anything that would let me know if we were a good match.
He sent you to San Francisco, and took me to New York.