All the Hate Mail!

Mr. Jones Translated

Sha la la la la la la 

I was at a club and looking at a blonde lady. My friend, a guy named Mr. Jones started talking to a different girl, who had dark hair and suddenly she started dancing as her father inexplicably played guitar. 

Mr. Jones thought she was pretty hot. We like hot chicks.

I am an ugly weirdo.

Let’s dance together. Sha lalalalalalalala.

Dance, Maria. Mr. Jones is kind of a pervert, but if he gives me alcohol I’ll forgive him.

I’m so drunk I start talking about agnosticism.

My friend Mr. Jones and I like the fact that we are being recorded. We like to be loved because we are both trying to fill a void.

Now seems like a good time to act like we care about art. Women like art, right? Picasso! Cool!

Mr. Jones and me look into the future and argue about a girl with a lazy eye.

I have a guitar and now I will never be lonely. Ok, I feel lonely.

I’m singing about cats.

Okay, I’m lonely. Also, I’m an agnostic. Will you be lonely and sing about cats with me?

Mr. Jones and me look for women with less money because affluent women shun us. I bought a guitar. Mr. Jones is probably just a shitty piece of my own displaced need for approval. 

Mr. Jones and me are going to be celebrities. 

This will last forever, right?

Why

It doesn’t matter what you want or don’t want.

It doesn’t matter what you need or don’t need.

All that matters is that you understand why you do or don’t have it.

You need to know these things.

That is the only way things can ever change

Kissing Theory

We all remember our first kiss. 

Our first kiss ever, and the first kiss with the person we currently love. I do.

Why?

When courting, we try so hard to be engaging, to be attractive, and to make eye contact. We are attracted to this person. We find them visually, and hopefully, creatively and emotionally, enticing. We want to kiss them, even if we don’t quite know why. Impulsively, we want to place our lips against theirs and we want to drift away with them.

We want to swim in an ocean of color. We want to fly in a sky without limits. We want to hold sacred a thing that is so simple: a pair of lips and another pair of lips.

Why?

When you kiss someone, it is the first time you choose not to see them. You choose to close your eyes. All of the things that first drew you to them melt away like so many ignored candles. You choose not to see them. 

You choose to feel them.

It is unlike any other thing you can share with a person. The world, your surroundings, and even them, drift into the abyss, replaced by a singular moment. A rhythm. A beat, a melody, a sound, a color, a vibration, a feeling, an endless array of nothing. In a world with nearly seven billion people, world that is 25,000 miles around…

Suddenly, only a millimeter matters, and it is the one between your lips. And with your eyes closed, you eliminate that gap, and you create a new sustainable world.

This exists nowhere else. 

Remember your first kiss. Remember the first kiss you had with the one you love:

It’s a millimeter gap you have to close, and you can do it.

If you try. 

Brain Creatures

Jeff and Stacy went to bed and simultaneously fell asleep as they usually seemed to.

Luckily, they were both pretty heavy sleepers so they never actually saw what was going on during their slumber.

As Jeff began to breathe heavily, the top of his head split open like a root tearing through a sidewalk and a small pink creature looking something like a tiny hairless baby rat burst through the skin. 

He hopped off Jeff’s forehead and, using Jeff’s ear as a stepping stone, made his way down to the pillow. He traversed the mushy tundra and then eventually hopped over to Stacy’s pillow. He placed his entire head in Stacy’s ear canal and whispered something.

Within moments, a small pink rat-like thing emerged from Stacy’s other ear. She crawled across Stacy’s lips and the he-rat-like-thing helped her down on the other side.

He and she took each other’s hands and ran together the length of the sheets, down off the bed, under the doorway, and up and into the kitchen.

Luckily, there were a few swigs of wine left in a glass on the counter. They climbed in together and talked all night, taking drops of wine in turn, laughing, and making love.

As the sun threatened to creep in through the windows, he and she bid each other farewell, complete with what seemed to be an endless array of goodbye kisses, waves, hugs, and on and on.

Soon, he was back in Jeff’s head and had closed the entrance behind him. Somewhere, he knew, through a couple of layers of flesh, and only a few feet away, she was there, waiting for the time they could meet again.

It was a wonderful night and he and she knew that even if Jeff and Stacy never slept again, they would always be bound together, both by memory and by chemistry.

Quite accidentally, tiny bits of Stacy had come back with him and tiny bits of Jeff had come back with her and those bits, in time, would grow, until they would not have to visit each other in the nights anymore, as while they would always individually be a he and a she, they had now formed a they.

Flirting

“Hi, can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“What is the purpose of this visit?” she asked.

“Well, I’m looking for an easy way to speak to you and I have eight dollars available.”

“Well, then yes, I am willing to speak to you, but a drink would help me be interested because at the moment I am not.”

He orders her a drink, as well as one for himself.

“I have some questions about your upbringing and your current affairs, though I’m not ready to ask any questions about your relationship status,” he said.

“I understand. I come from a generic family and have a job I tolerate because of the money I am paid that I use to live and buy food,” she said. “My relationship status is irrelevant at the moment.”

“Can I buy you another drink? I am interested in asking more questions but I don’t want to feel responsible.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll answer with some degree of honesty, probably.”

Another drink arrives and they drink it.

“How is a girl like you single?” he asked.

“What makes you think I’m single?” she asked.

“Can I buy you another drink? I feel called out and am shamed.”

“Sure. My intention was to shame you. I have succeeded.”

Another drink arrives and they drink it. 

“Rainbows involve all the different colors, and all the colors in between the colors,” he said.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said.

He waited for an hour and then he realized that she was probably gone.

And then he felt really bad.

Because he realized he only had $25.00.

So he couldn’t tip appropriately.

Photographs

Sarah would often lie awake at night because she had a great deal of anxiety. She would stare at the ceiling fan and count crags on the stucco ceiling and take deep breaths.

As much as she wanted to sleep, and as much as she loved the escape of dreams, her biggest fear was always the next day. The unknown was terrifying and so much so that it tended to ruin the known.

One night, after three hours of tossing and turning, Sarah went to the hallway closet and pulled out a cardboard box full of photographs. She leafed through them, her brain awakened entirely, as she transported herself through nearly three decades of memorable moments.

Small pieces of her brain came to life as she flipped through and then suddenly she stopped on a particular photograph:

It was from a theme park. Her hands were high above her head and her hair was floating but her face was nothing but smiles. It was a photo from Space Mountain from when her family visited in 1995. It was her and her sister. The lines were long that day but she didn’t remember that. All she remembered was this particular moment.

She had no fear back then. She did not fear hitting the bottom. She just smiled and allowed the ride to take her wherever it was going to go.

Back in bed, Sarah left the photograph on her bedside table.

Quickly, she fell asleep.

The morning came and Sarah woke up and tried to stretch her arms, but she couldn’t. Her arms were high above her head. She tried to speak, but she could not, as her mouth was frozen in an excited smile. She looked to her left and saw herself sleeping in bed. Sarah was trapped in the photograph, frozen in a moment of total fearlessness.

The previous night she had found comfort in the past because the past was fearless. But in romanticizing the fearlessness of the past, she had regressed to a point of total fear, because even though the moment in the photograph was scary, the outcome was known.

She began to cry as she realized that embracing her old lack of fear did nothing to help her current state.

Suddenly, Sarah woke up and fixed her eyes again on the ceiling fan. She did not know how long she had been asleep. Looking over at her nightstand, she saw the photograph and remembered where she just had been.

She turned the photo upside down and realized that nothing from the past would quiet her mind and that the racing thoughts were not going to go away until she actually embraced the next day again.

The fear of the unknown became a sentient creature that lived with her. And one day it would be gone and she would again be fearless, but Sarah had no way of knowing when.

Update About My New Neighbor Drama

Last night, I almost burst through the wall to decapitate my new neighbors. A “binging” noise was coming through the wall, basically all night long, and I was losing my mind.

Instead of violently berating them and attempting to ruin their lives, I decided to try and resolve this peacefully.

I knocked on the door and a woman in her late 30’s answered. She is tall (I have seen her before) and has a Southern accent (I did not know this, as we had never spoken.)

Below is how the conversation went. I’m paraphrasing as best I can from memory so a word or two here could be off.

Her: Yes?

Me: Hi, I’m your neighbor.

Her: I know. Hi.

Me: I don’t want to sound crazy, but I’m very sensitive to sound. Is there any way you can silence your phone and that terribly annoying binging noise your computer makes all night long?

Her: What are you talking about?

Me: All last night. On and on and on.

Her: I was home all night last night and I promise you I didn’t hear anything.

Me: Ok, well I was home all night last night and I promise you if I hear it again no matter what time it is, I may freak out entirely, so if you do happen to hear something ever again, please do us both a favor and shut it off.

(At this point I was doing that thing where I don’t make eye contact and use my hands a lot as a way of letting people know my displeasure) 

Her: Well, it wasn’t me. So, I’m sorry you’re having a hard time with whatever.

Me: Sorry to bother you with this. I just really need you to turn it off.

Her: It’s not on. It’s not even a thing.

Me: Well, I guess we’ll see about that.

At this point she rolled her eyes and I smiled and then she said “ok” and closed her door.

I went back into my apartment and reached into my backpack to pull out my iPad to write about this and then I realized something interesting.

I had left the sound on on my iPad and the noises I was hearing all night were actually coming from inside my own bag in my living room.

The moral of the story is that I’m a piece of shit. 

New Neighbors

Hi there.

It seems you like to leave your cell phones at home when you are gone with the ringers on.
Also, I think you use sometime kind of instant messenger on your home computer that makes a noise every time one of your idiot friends messages you.

I don’t know if you know what I did to my last neighbors but consider this a friendly warning:

Learn how to behave like a human being or be treated like an animal.

Love
Elan

The Apocalypse of March 10, 2013

When everyone found out that the apocalypse was going to be on March 10th, people got pretty depressed.

We were all just going to be gone and there was no real reason. The announcement just came from a booming voice in the sky. I’m pretty sure everyone remembers where they were when they heard it. They probably remember it word for word. I do.

“May I have your attention please?
Thank you.
On March 10th, 2013, the thing that you call the world is going to be over.
Please don’t be overly alarmed.
There won’t be any explosions or asteroids or hurricanes. It will just all be over. You won’t even feel anything.
Also, there is nothing after this. This is all there is. So, please don’t get your expectations up. I’d feel bad leading you on.
I’m sure you weren’t expecting this and for that I’m sorry, but I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time and I’m afraid my decision is final.
So if there’s anything you want to do between now and when there is no such thing as now anymore, I guess now would be the time to do it.

Goodbye for now.”

And then the voice was gone. People pleaded and shouted at the sky for a few hours. Nothing changed. Political figures told everyone not to worry. Conspiracy theorists explained that the illuminati was behind this. But we all knew the truth. Everything was going to become nothing and there was nothing we could do about it.

People expected riots and looting like in all the movies. Police were out in force for a day or two and then they realized that everyone was just sitting at home.

The voice was so matter of fact and had clearly and calmly made this decision and we were all left, totally blindsided, just to sit and process it.

No one rioted and no one looted because no one knew what to want anymore.

Every one of us seemed to just sit in stunned silence. We looked into each other’s eyes a lot, basically searching desperately for calm and answers that didn’t exist.

Mindy sat beside me and asked me find a way to make sure our children, Harmon and Helen, had lives. Harmon and Helen played on the floor in front of the couch and didn’t really understand.

I had to explain to Mindy that I couldn’t make sure our kids had lives because the definition of “life” had been changed.

Life was now just a matter of days, regardless of what you were doing. Finding meaning when there is no knowable or tangible end product is quite difficult, as it turns out.

There’s no need to finish that garage you’ve been redoing or the screenplay you always wanted to write or to even find the ones you love to tell them how you feel. That knowledge too will be gone soon.

But Mindy wanted me to do something so I left the house and I walked and I walked until I was tired, but then I kept walking and eventually I found a staircase and I climbed it. I climbed and I climbed and my thighs hurt but I climbed and I climbed because Mindy wanted me to do something. I had forgotten how to want and I always knew Mindy was special and I was right. She never forgot how to want and so I climbed and I climbed and then I reached the top.

When I got to the top I stared into the nothing and I told the nothing that I would not accept the terms that had been set forth. I told the nothing that Harmon and Helen would go on and that Mindy would always want and that I would climb if I needed to and I would walk if I needed to, but I would not go away and I would not stop and I would not allow it.

Not surprisingly, the nothing did not respond because the nothing was not a rational thing and could not be reasoned with. And I stood there and I spoke and I made it listen but it did not understand because it too did not know how to want and it did not understand why it was important.

I stood alone at the top of these stairs for a very long time and I made my case and I was met only with silence and then I walked down the stairs and my calves were burning and then I walked home and I looked into Mindy’s eyes and told her what I had done. Harmon and Helen continued to play on the floor and I assured Mindy that they would do so forever, and I was telling the truth. They would be there, with each other, and with Mindy and with me and we would look into each other’s eyes forever and we would want each other forever in the most literal sense of the word. Forever.

It is now March 9th and nothing has changed. The world is a different place, which is strange, because nothing has changed other than our perceptions of the meaning of it.

Our expectations and hopes had kept us alive for so long and now we were all just very still.

We ruined our own last days as a people. But I did not because I wanted every moment of it and I never lost sight of Mindy and Harmon and Helen and if everything is over tomorrow than I won’t even know but if everything is not over tomorrow I will never leave this room and I will never stop staring into Mindy’s eyes.

I will do this forever.

Ghosts

My house is full of ghosts.

The t-shirt I wore on New Year’s Eve. The sandals I got in the airport in Berlin on a long trip home. The record player I bought at a thrift shop in Missouri. The necklace I’m wearing.

These aren’t just items I’ve collected over time. These are physical evidence of who I once was and where I once was and how I once felt. These are tablets covered in hieroglyphics that only I can read. 

When the lights go out at night, the “me” that existed a long time ago rises and pays a visit. As I lay in bed and watch the barely visible spin of the ceiling fan, I can see their visages walking towards me. My house is full of ghosts.

They want to live again. They want to remind me of who I was. No matter how much I want to forget them, they know they already live inside me. These ghosts, these are just reminders. I’m not scared of them. I’m scared of me. I’m scared I’ll let them in and that the person who I was will overcome the person I am. My house is full of ghosts.

And I try and close my eyes but I feel the presence of a million of me. They stare at me, wondering which of them I will allow in. Which ones will I acknowledge?

I cannot ignore the ghosts. I fear them. They remind me that I can’t run from my past.

I am full of ghosts. 

Sound Waves and The Self

The interesting thing about people is that they do not exist by themselves.

A man can in fact be an island, but there will always be ships that come by over the course of a lifetime, and those ships will be the ones that define the island, that give it its shape and its place on earth, and its name and its relevance.

We’re always going to be defined by those around us, whether or not we choose to acknowledge it, or whether or not it frightens us.

The words we say don’t mean anything until they’re heard. The love letters we write don’t mean anything until they’re read. The thoughts we have don’t matter until we act on them and they force themselves into the unwilling and strict world.

And this is where we all are now. These quiet little words are all we have. The sound waves of a whisper gently fighting against the dark air trying to make their way from the passenger seat to the driver’s seat, from one side of the dinner table to the other.

The sound waves are more our existence than our blood or our skin or our brains. They are what make us something to each other and each other are what makes us.

Plans

Never make plans because plans can be destroyed.

Living a day at a time offers the freedom of no consequences.

Never think about the next moment. Only worry about this one. This is the one that matters.

Never make plans. Never plan. 

Every day is an adventure. Never plan.

Those things you wanted to do yesterday you may not want to do today and now you’re a disappointment.

Never plan.

Now is your moment.

Until it’s no longer your moment. All the plans you’ve ever had are distant in the road behind you.

And then suddenly today means nothing and you look back on yesterday and you wonder what happened to all those adventures. All those plans. Those days of adventure.

How many days are left? 

Fear

Ghosts are real.

Simon was afraid of ghosts, even though they had never done anything to him. His best friend, Daphne, was the kind of person who was never afraid.

One night, Simon called Daphne and told her that there was a ghost in his apartment. It only took fifteen minutes for Daphne to come over and join him. She was excited, really. She wanted to see the ghost.

When she entered the apartment, Simon was sitting alone on his bed with his eyes closed and the only other thing there was Daphne. She encouraged him to open his eyes and he decided not to.

“I’m here,” she said. “Open your eyes and see me.”

Simon clenched his lids.

“Dont you want to see me?”

“I want to see you but what if I also see something that scares me?”

“It’ll be fine,” said Daphne, “because I’ll be here.”

Daphne stared at Simon’s face. She had known this face so well and loved the man behind it so thoroughly, but his fear had sucked the beauty from his skin, had turned his silky soul to a tattered rag.

She knew if he opened his eyes he would only see her, but she realized at that moment that she would no longer see him, she would just see his shell, a visage, a translucent picture of what he had once been.

Scared of what she would see, she left.

Terrified by the quiet, Simon finally opened his eyes. He did not see a ghost, but he also did not see Daphne. She was gone.

His fear of the unknown had destroyed all that was real.

And he sat on his bed and prayed for a ghost, but there was no ghost to be found. He was utterly alone.

Death

Ethan woke up and made enough coffee for two, as usual.

His bare feet against the wood floors, the steps he thought would wake her did not.

He sat and warmed his hands on his ceramic mug. He rubbed his feet against each other and waited for her to feel the lack of his presence in bed.

Soon, his coffee was gone and hers was cold. 

She never woke up and she never came out of the bedroom and she never said good morning and she never said I love you again. She simply wasn’t there.

The skies turned from blue to orange and then to grey, reflecting the moonlight.

He closed his eyes and waited for morning and then he walked to the kitchen, and again, made enough coffee for two.

And so on and so on and so on until there was no more coffee

And then he bought more

Love

The Beatles said

Love is all you need

True, but incomplete

I prefer

Love is all there is

Name something else in life that can’t be taken by force