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i generally don’t make a big deal of things like this, but over the past few weeks i’ve seen it enough times to make me want to club a seal. a baby one.

driving along in town can be an enjoyable experience. no real rush to go anywhere. just idly working your way through the familiar like you have over and over again. you come to a stop light.

you have a few cars ahead of you. a car heading in the opposite direction as you has their window down. as they pass, they flick a cigarette out of their window and it hits the ground. the music rips.

for some odd reason, this is the catalyst for me. i look in my rear view mirror and think to myself, “are you serious?” someone decided that the cigarette did not belong in their possession anymore. they purchased this nicotine delivery system, set fire to it, inhaled the fumes and upon completion of this, made the decision to flick the butt out of the window.

my mind immediately starts to imagine who this person is and why they think it’s totally fine to just throw that out of the window onto the ground. this is a public street. for a few moments i try to wrap my head around the instantaneous rationale that apparently took place. they came to the conclusion that this is okay to do. i don’t often see people hurling bags of trash or old furniture out of their car window. why? because it’s really fucking hard to do. that shit is heavy. but also, it’s fucking. littering.

it’s harsh, but I can honestly say that I immediately lose a significant amount of respect for this person regardless of any other aspect of their life.

i absolutely understand that this occurs in many other forms. crumpled receipts. carrier bags. cans. for some reason, the cigarette butt has a way of infuriating me like nothing else.


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the hallway stretched for miles. spare a small path, various books covered every visible inch.

for every step i took, the hallway would rotate slightly clockwise. the reverse for taking a step back. a bullet in a barrel.

the books were only dislodged by interaction. the present ceiling held onto every piece yet was gracious enough to allow you to remove a single item carefully. otherwise, the sheer weight of every chapter, volume & series would crush.

glancing to the right, i noticed a rather thin book covered in small, green leaves. i reached for it delicately and using a single finger, pivoted the book from the wall.

my fingers gently ran across the cover, brushing aside foliage to reveal a polaroid. a wooden picnic table amongst tall trees with a small clearing where the light could find a way in.

both lying uncomfortably on the table, we looked towards the sky drenched in hesitation.

“i really like it here” i spoke as i turned my head towards her.

“me too. i used to come here quite a bit during high school.” she replied as she turned towards me, smiled, and looked back towards the tops of the trees.

my line of sight shifted slowly from her to the sky, only to return to her shortly after. i repeated this process for a few minutes inconsistently. i could see her eyes paying attention to my visible uncertainty.

“what are you thinking about?” she asked, focusing on the clouds above.

“the usual” i confessed & shot my gaze to the sky.

“really though, tell me.”

“i am afraid to.”

“don’t be.”


“because you never know what could happen.”

after a moment with my eyes closed, my hand lifted from the table and set itself on top of hers. her expressionless face blended into a smile. she looked towards me & rotated her hand under mine until our fingers interlocked.

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there there

there there

i opened my eyes and found myself on my back, looking up at her as long hair drifted across my face. there were sparse rays of light throughout the room.

“where are we going?” I asked quietly.

she supported herself with her arms pinned against mine, holding me to the ground. with the only source of light being the moon at her back, i couldn’t make out her face.

“where we always go” she replied.

behind her were three open windows with sheer curtains moving in response to the wind. her hair flowed with them in perfect parallel.

“why won’t you just reveal yourself?” i questioned.

she looked away and pushed herself off of me. standing up, she glided to the windows and put her foot on the ledge. i could hear her begin to whimper.

“because you aren’t ready. you can’t handle it yet” she answered.

i sat up and brought my knees to my chest. i could smell salt in the air. i looked from side to side and noticed i was wearing a wool hat that covered my ears. i smiled to myself and looked up.

“fair enough. are you ready to go?” i asked as i brought myself to my feet.

i walked over slowly, took her hand and looked out at the water. seven to eight stories up with nothing but water visible underneath. we leaned forward and gazed down & at each other. even with the moon illuminating the surroundings, she was still only an unintelligible figure.

“you can make it” she assured me.

as we stepped off the ledge simultaneously, we fell upwards and away.

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everything was going to change. at that specific moment in time.

the quick glance which blended into an eternity. disregard for the static & constant stimulus. the entire spectrum was shouting at us. trying to grab us back and gain our attention. we stuck it out just to grasp at this new, exciting feeling for a moment.

the teacher rattled on as my neck strained from tug of war between my heart & mind. look forward. look again. stop this. keep going.

you were everything that i’ve always wanted and everything that i didn’t need. you are everything that i knew i would want later. but not now.

things are as they should be. you can’t regret the past, they say. you can’t live in your history, they say.

we all know that it follows you everywhere you go. popping into every situation & shaping your every move.

let it come and let it be.

we pulled into the bluff & parked.

clutched together in the closest you can come to darkness. light from my stereo immersed your body in blue and danced across your face while our eyes anchored each other again.

the windows fogged up slightly, not due to the stereotype. heavy breathing. we were desperately holding on to every second. it is only when you become comfortable with your ecstasy, you let it slip through your fingers.

i traced every wrinkle on your neck with my fingers. gathering as much information as i could before having to find my own way again.

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The most depressing part of my day occurs when I’m doing something that I love to do.

Every day I stumble across something new musically. Through the aid of Pandora, blogs, news, hearsay & my due diligence in finding what I need to keep going, I am constantly surprised by the quality of certain tracks and their beauty.

So what’s the problem? I’m constantly finding little gems hidden throughout society. I understand this is subjective, but I’d like to think I have enough experience to be able to pick out melodically sound compositions & above average production value. Whether that is true is not for me to say but I try my best. Regardless, the key word here is “hidden.”

Once a night I am intrigued to learn about an artist. Or even just the song itself. I’m mesmerized by what they did & how they put together this piece of art. So I go searching. Most of the time I can find something on the artist or the track. Random songs do not get submitted to Pandora without a bit of screening.

For the times I don’t find much on them, I continue to dig further. I check Discogs for information about what they have done. Once in a while I will stumble across a Wikipedia page about the artist. One with no links or any information about the individual(s) that created this work. Vague references to what they’ve done. Maybe a 100x100 thumbnail of the album artwork from 2001.

It pains me to hear something that strikes such an intense chord and then fail to find more information about it. Did this go overlooked? Is it just me who enjoys this? Why didn’t this get bigger than it did? Was it ahead of its time? Was it too late for its time?

I want to find these people, physically shake them with my hands and tell them, “You are amazing. You are amazing at what you do. I am so sorry.”

And yet, I have to turn on the radio and listen to the same 20 songs on rotation for weeks. And weeks.

I know this will come off as condescending even when I don’t mean it to be. I just wish that people could open their eyes to the wonders that are out there. I wish they could see what others have seen. I wish people would stop letting music be delivered to them aimlessly, but rather help the cause and find it yourself. I would even say that I wish that everyone cared more, but this is naturally a false hope that cannot & should not be enforced. The joy it brings me is overwhelming and I just want to share it.

Moral of the story: If I have to fucking hear “Starships” one more time by Nicki Minaj, I’m going to drink bleach.