Archive for February, 2013

8:14 (89)

Posted in eight fourteen with tags , on February 8, 2013 by darryl zero

Things are starting to escape me that otherwise shouldn’t unless I give myself some kind of stimulus.  It’d worry me if I weren’t expecting it. The reflex would be to say it’s because I’m getting older, that the decline I try to delay in my body is now starting to reach my brain, but I think it’s more because I’m filling myself up with things.  I’m into so much–I love so much, even when I think I don’t.  It’s…reassuring.

There’s the part in the bridge of Queen Adreena’s “Siamese Almeida” that catches me in its perfection.  The entire song is constructed around a two-note bass figure–E to C, if my ear serves me correct–that just grinds and moves forward in a chugging, gritting, too-ugly-to-be-entirely-pretty-yet-sexy-as-fuck way that just feels like it needs to be there, and the bridge–if you can call it that–is just a breakdown in which all it is is kick and bass, and Katie Jane Garside’s voice, of course, until the guitars chime in with that buzzsawing Crispin Gray tone on hammered E chords.  The exact lyrics escape me–if I am to say I am declining mentally, I’d cite that as exhibit A–but they are something to the extent of “I will not change what’s in you, I will not change for you,” and there’s that part where she goes from a hiccuped “I will not-” and then, as the guitars sear, she abruptly goes to a throat-searing “change what I hate in you” and the compression kicks in to the point at which the volume of the shriek and the volume of the coo are exactly the same.  I don’t always like that kind of processed vocal, but it’s beautiful in that instant, perfect, catching the emotions I feel so often and re-encoding them into music before spitting them out, into my ears.

It’s one of those moments I have to stop and rewind and listen to over and over every time I hear it.  Beautiful.

Time’s up.



Posted in Uncategorized with tags on February 7, 2013 by darryl zero

I’m not satisfied in any way, nor am I sure I ever will be.  I’m neither contented, nor especially at ease.  But I talked to one of my kids and maybe, just maybe, there’s the hope that I was to them what so many of my teachers and coaches and inspirational figures were to me, and just that possibility is enough to say that, if I died tonight, I’d be safe in the knowledge that I didn’t entirely fuck up these 32-and-a-half years.

8:14 (88)

Posted in eight fourteen with tags on February 5, 2013 by darryl zero

There’s always that point at which you realize everything you’re doing needs to be as for yourself as possible, until it isn’t.

I find myself dreaming of the touch of someone who, quite frankly, doesn’t exist.  I’m not exaggerating when I say she’s exactly like Melanie–short, thin, off-white skin, cheekbones, the same kind of dueling sincerity and fear in her eyes, her smile, and a voice as sweet at a stolen kiss in the misty, foggy dark.

The kind of people that stick with me, the kinds of people who occupy space in my heart, never make sense to anyone else.  There are the people with whom I end up, the women that have that combination of willingness and comfort, but then there are the ones that see the world somewhat like I do, only they look at it with an affected fearlessness that I can’t even pretend, they attack it with something as if it needs to be held at bay if not outright conquered lest it conquer them first.  I could never do that, and that’s why Melanie sticks with me so much–she was afraid, and confused, and had no idea what to do with the world in front of her, and that fear pushed her in all the wrong directions and tore at her and distorted her into something.

Even though we only dated two  months, even though that “dating” was some kind of fucked-up, odd thing that really shouldn’t have warranted any connection, she is imprinted on me in a way I can’t fully describe, and that’s the reason why I can’t call complete bullshit on someone when they talk about their “soulmate.”  I don’t believe in that shit, but then again, someone I barely knew and barely held to me is someone I will keep in my heart forever.

Time’s up.

8:14 (87)

Posted in eight fourteen with tags on February 1, 2013 by darryl zero

The worst part about this place isn’t the cold, or the snow, or the flatness, or the fact that there isn’t really any decent non-corporate chain food places to eat, or the fact that even the cool people here are so unbearably whitebread.

The worst part about being in Iowa is how easily it is to become completely isolated from the world.  I used to be unable to walk down a street in Portland without running into someone I knew, no matter what the neighborhood or context; in Iowa, if I time everything just right, I can actually leave my mum’s house, go to the grocery store and back and the only people I’d encounter in any substantial way are the people being paid to endure my presence.  Not that this isn’t without its benefits, mind you, but sometimes one wants to embrace, acknowledge, and immerse oneself in the presence of people they love.  I’ve loved intensely and often (and often to my detriment, depending on whom you ask), but the staggering amount of people that simply don’t do anything in this state is mind-boggling to the point of confusion.

It leads me to speculate whether or not the who;e “Iowa being boring” stereotype isn’t at least a part of how people try to program Iowa, not only in the minds of others, but in its citizens as well.  Iowa isn’t boring, at least no more so than any other place forgotten and under-appreciated by the “cultured” world, but people seem so comfortable with it being this way that they only really accept the comfortable, “Portlandia”-type weird in a way that other cities don’t fuck around with.

Probably because they’re too busy actually being vibrant.

But not Des Moines, where it’s easy to just slink back into whatever hole from which you crawled and, for instance, fall asleep before 2am.

Time’s up.