when you open the door

it's like christmas '93

i know it scares you

when i seem a little less than me

you tell me the things that seem to go as planned

never really do

but i feel alright

yes i feel alright with you

keep my aim true like you wanted me to

just as i was getting used to falling asleep next to you

i need you so much closer

touching him was always so important to me. it was something i lived for. i never could explain why. little, nothing touches. my fingers against his shoulder. the outsides of our thighs touching as we squeezed together n the bus. i couldn't explain it but i needed it. sometimes i imagined stitching all of our little touches together. how many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take it make love? why does anyone ever make love?

"i've never loved you more."

we started marking off areas in the apartment as 'Nothing Places', in which one could be asured of complete privacy, we agreed that we would look at the marked-off zones, that they would be nonexistent territories in the apartment in which one could temporarily cease to exist. the side of the door that faced the guest room was Nothing, the side that faced the hallway was Something, the knob that connected them was neither Something nor Nothing. the walls of the hallway were Nothing, even pictures need to disappear, especially pictures, but the hallway itself was Something, the bathtub was Nothing, the bathwater was Something, the hair on our bodies was Nothing, of course, but once it collected around the drain it was Something, we were trying to make our lives easier, trying, with all of our rules, to make life effortless. but a friction began to arise between Nothing and Something, in the morning the Nothing vase cast a Something shadow, like the memory of someone you've lost, what can you say about that, at night the Nothing light from the guest room spilled under the Nothing door and stained the SOmething hallway, there's nothing to say. it became difficult to navigate from Something to Something without accidentally walking through Nothing, and when Something - a key, a pen, a pocketwatch - was accidentally left in a Nothing place, it never could be retrieved, that was an unspoken rule, like nearly all of our rules have been.

written at 6th and 11th, then 15 floors up on spring street

i sat in a cafe today

i went alone and walked until my feet hurt

followed a straight path until i heard clinking glasses

and loud laughs

so i turned right

and walked inside

asked for a table for one

and didn't feel uncomfortable

a woman stared at me as i seated myself in a booth

between a couple making compromises

if she wanted the booth

or if he wanted to split a burger

they didn't stay long

and she ended up sitting in the booth

leaving crumbs behind on the maroon coloured seat

and two middle aged men

both without wedding rings

knocking back fruity drinks

i wondered if they were gay

i read two chapters of a book and underlined

three lines i fell in love with

as i always do

and that woman continued to stare

as if she had never seen someone enjoying their own company

in her entire life

i drank two cups of coffee

i wondered if anyone else was here alone

or anywhere else in this city alone

quietly basking in comfort

and drowning their thoughts in caffeine

it looked like the wind from outside

was causing the ceiling fans to spin

i waited twenty minutes for the bill

and left a two dollar tip

the waiter was balding and sweating

maybe from overworking

who knows

i walked back quickly

taking photos of peoples backs

and of fallen branches in the street

i know they're nothing special

but i'll need reminders of this later

and now i'm hovering 15 floors over a stormy street

wind making the glass windows surrounding

one third of the room creak and groan

under their pressure

blowing in every direction

the building across the street is deserted

windows boarded and taped up

thin grey gutters in two of the windows

flap open as the gusts of wind grab them from underneath

making them surrender and slap against each other

and although i can't hear them

i know they're making a lot of noise

the sun just came out

for the first time in forty eight hours perhaps

and now everything feels new

i was worried about the windows smashing earlier

but that thought is long gone now

i think i've decided that we're only scared of heights

when we're put in situations that make us realize we should be scared

resting hands on your emptied lungs and if you'll

hold still i'll just

sink

didn't really think about the stars i've been holding hostage

just tacked them to the wall to hide the empty

and closed our eyes too tight to squint through

your phosphenes aren't enough,

the tree rings don't bother,

we're bound for home without any sense of direction

i wanted to start

with the truth

somewhere between

"i can't love"

and

"anything i can

hold."

i want you

and i want to be the

scent on your skin

you take with you to work in the morning

better than a note in a lunch box

you know i'll be

between your sheets

when you come home in the evening.

does any one else sense it?

do they smell my

spice perfume

where i left it on your

chest and waist and

earlobes?

creature fear by bon iver is the only song that i can listen to over and over and still feel the exact same every single time, a hard punch in the gut, a hammer to the knees, a chill straight through my spine, goosebumps all up my legs and down my arms, and a fire ignited right below my heart causing it to melt on the spot

holy fuck

you're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. and you feel like you've done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you're tired. you're in a car with a beautiful boy, and you're trying not to tell him that you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you didn't even have a name for.

we sort of all just got comfortable, made love

to all our gold and got glad that we had breath

enough to tell the story to someone else like you but

you might like what happened the next day

i saw it and helped clean up, let's just say

we sure paid double for playing hookey

i need someone to ignite a spark under my feet and force me to run wild. i feel myself getting boring and i can't stand it. take me on adventures and give me something to look forward to. i'm just too tired all the time.

in another time this would've been an exciting day for me but now it's only a strong, overwhelming reminder of how much two years has changed me as a person

sometimes i wonder if you are thinking of me

even when you are with me

and we are still and silent

in the dark and under separate covers

when i settle on yes

i kiss the inch of your arm closest to me

and you kiss my head

and we search for each others lips blindly

i try to sing songs with my tongue

and grazes on your back with my fingertips

i'm never sure if they're loud enough

but i usually settle on yes

every day i spend with you

brings me closer to a place i never thought i'd be

we intertwine like state lines on a map

i'm new here but i've never felt more at home

i crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

silent and starving, i prowl through the streets.

bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day.

i hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

i hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hnger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

i want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

i want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

i want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and i pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart,

like a puma in the barrens of quitratue.

i could write a novel about your peach fuzz

the fragile blonde on your ears

the dusting on your arms

the tempting trail that leads me down

down

down

down

so irresistable,

i don't have enough hands some nights

"IF YOU HAVE A CHOICE NEVER HAVE A JOB.
One night I was sitting in my car outside Columbia University where my wife Shirley was studying Anthropology. While I was waiting I was listening to the radio and heard an interviewer ask ‘Now that you have reached 75 have you any advice for our audience about how to prepare for your old age?’ An irritated voice said ‘Why is everyone asking me about old age these days?’ I recognised the voice as John Cage. I am sure that many of you know who he was – the composer and philosopher who influenced people like Jasper Johns and Merce Cunningham as well as the music world in general. I knew him slightly and admired his contribution to our times. ‘You know, I do know how to prepare for old age’ he said. ‘Never have a job, because if you have a job someday someone will take it away from you and then you will be unprepared for your old age. For me, it has always been the same every since the age of 12. I wake up in the morning and I try to figure out how am I going to put bread on the table today? It is the same at 75, I wake up every morning and I think how am I going to put bread on the table today? I am exceedingly well prepared for my old age’ he said."

life is for the living

i've heard tell that it is why we are young

in the morning sun

you take every year as it comes

but when your life is over

all those years fold up like an accordion

they collapse just like a broken lung

i think about you

(always)

i remember the day i first met you. a firm handshake, a warm smile, constant eye contact. it was winter. i had been at this god awful party for half an hour, already half drunk because i didn't want to deal with a whiney friend complaining about her current boyfriend. you had just arrived, cheeks rosy from the cold. we chatted about where we wanted to go to school, who we were friends with at the party, who we wanted to avoid, and what plans we had for christmas break. you were a wonderful distraction but you disappeared from my life shortly after that and our talk was a fleeting moment in my mind. we met again months later, by chance, on a train, and spent the next forty minutes catching up and i was reminded of your infectious laugh, your kind eyes, your way with words when i talked about being unsure if i was completely content with what i was doing with my life. another long while passed, then we met again, on another train, and we laughed and joked and you hugged me and now i can feel that hug hovering in my mind and i am so heartbroken even though we only met three times. i remember everything about you and i often find myself wishing you'd stumble onto the train when my ipod dies and i sit in boredom for those forty minute rides from toronto to pickering. you told me once about the night that you spent lying on the hood of your car looking at the stars because they made sense, they mapped out noticeable constellations and you understood them, and it started to rain, and it was wet and cold and heavy and it made sense too, and now it's raining and all i want is to lie on the hood of a car and stare into the sky and feel like everything makes sense. but you didn't deserve this, you didn't fucking deserve to die. this doesn't make sense. this doesn't make any sense at all.

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i fell in love with you at the foot of a bed. i've loved many other things, and places, and people, and moments, but i'll always remember being basked in a blue glow, naked to the core and glistening in a thin layer of each others sweat, and knowing that this was important and i felt in love. i know you care and i know you will continue to care and i know you've cared this whole time but i just can't get that feeling out of my mind that i'm a millstone wrapped around your neck sometimes, annoying and needy. i try not to be and i have been telling myself to go right to sleep and keep everything out of my mind, but i can't get over that hill. it's too steep and i can't walk it alone. i love you, i do, i really do, but i feel like i care far too much sometimes. i'm trying to look on the bright side of everything and i'm trying to keep calm and collected but i feel too much. i'm always trying to put it into words for you but i can really only say that i feel too much and too often and i'm trying to better myself but please forgive me for now. all i need is some kind words and i promise i'll sleep soft once again.

i can hear a bug,

a nameless

anonymous bug,

stuck between the walls

to the right of my head,

fluttering its wings,

wanting out

so fucking badly.

sometimes

i feel the same.

you move awfully quiet here now

and i still feel you everywhere

breaking out for the first time in my life, in more ways than one, watching the rain break free from the sky thinking "that's ironic"

i'm trying not to think so much anymore instead of processing everything and pushing thoughts out of my skin and out of my mouth, forceful and unpleasant

i'm trying to turn out the lights and go to sleep, leaving it at that, nothing more nothing less but it's proving to be harder than it sounds

i can sleep alone tonight, i can, i don't want to, but i can, and i will and i will focus on my beating heart and an imaginary arm behind my head because that's how this works right?

and i will ignore body parts calling for you to break out of your shell and smother me in all the right ways and i will not overthink this i will not overthink this

i will blindly stare into the dark ceiling on this dark night and i will try to sleep tight because that's all i should be doing anyway right?

there has to be a way to keep from falling through the cracks in the sidewalk, keep me up here, putting parachutes on my ankles so gravity won't swallow me so quick and maybe you could grab my strings and swing me safe, catch me lest i crumble, stop me before the cliffs do

still alive for you, love

and at once i knew i was not magnificent

i hope that one day you will have the experience of doing something you do not understand for someone you love.

car rides home from perfect nights out

"maybe my knees are weak because i was standing on uneven ground for 3 hours or maybe it's because i am listening to a song i just saw live performed by a band i love and i am sitting in the car in complete silence with the boy i love and i wish i had spent the song holding his hand instead of watching it through my phone but regardless i am so content right now because we don't need to say anything and we can just sit here and drive fast with the windows down and blast this music and be silently but fully in love

maybe

just maybe"

i don't understand this

sometimes my body feels too heavy for certain moments and i'm like a newborn child with holes in my heart, too young and naive to grasp quiet thoughts i can't even speak about yet. i try to tell myself that the world is a beautiful place sometimes but i feel the weight of it on my shoulders and i just can't grasp that concept. that life is presenting tangible things in front of me but all i can do is let them fall through the holes in my heart. fall, and fall, and fall. so these feelings keep falling and my back keeps breaking and i keep thinking about the time my father introduced me to led zeppelin in his car, telling me that it would change my life, and the time that i chased my brother down the hot sidewalk barefoot, and how i tripped and ripped my toenail off, too stunned to cry, and how that was the first time in my life that i realized shit happens and it sucks but nails grow back and i forget about holding grudges and i can't listen to led zeppelin without thinking of my father and wishing i wasn't such a music snob these days because there's so much more he can show me and there's so much more i can learn and so many more cuts and scabs and bruises and scrapes i can get but they'll all heal. so maybe these holes in my heart can heal too. maybe i can patch them with these memories that are imprinted into my brain, taking them and bending them into tiny squares, and fitting them in the creases in my heart, keeping them for when i need them most. maybe they're safer there.

you are the only thing i write about

i've always been scared to grow up. i've always been intrigued by the unknown but the concept of getting old and stacking my responsibilities on bookshelves to let them collect dust on their spines and stress in my gut has never been something i've looked forward to. then i met you. i used to spend countless hours of countless nights lying awake and wondering where i'll be in five years, ten years, twenty years. i don't think about that anymore. i spend my nights anxiously awaiting tomorrow or the next day or whenever i'll see you next. i've never wanted the future but knowing i'll have you around tomorrow and the next day comforts me and puts me at ease. i can blow the dust off the bookshelves and let my stomach settle because even though i am growing up and there is nothing i can do to stop it, i have you by my side and for now that is enough.

i want to know how many scars you have

and memorize the shape of your tongue.

i want to climb the curve of your lower back

and count your vertebrae

your ribs

your fingers

your goose bumps.

i want to chart the topography of your anatomy

and be fluent in your body language

i want you, entire.

you remind me of everything good in this world and even though we joke about it all the time, i'm in this for the long haul. you are exactly what i need and i'm not going anywhere.

i tried to forget

but you grew roots around my ribcage

and sprouted flowers

just below my collarbones.

all day i pluck their petals

but i have not yet ascertained

whether you love me

or not

and so it is

just like you said it would be

life goes easy on me

most of the time

and so it is

the shorter story

no love, no glory

no hero in her sky

i can't take my eyes off of you

and so it is

just like you said it would be

we'll both forget the breeze

most of the time

and so it is

the colder water

the blower's daughter

the pupil in denial

i can't take my eyes off of you

did i say that i loathe you?

did i say that i want to

leave it all behind?

i can't take my eyes off of you

'til i find

somebody

new

every night
after a day with you

i sit and write

about a certain break through;

you see i love you more today
than i did yesterday.

every night.

late night downfalls

to be content is to be in between emotions, residing on a ledge between happy and sad or anxious and mad or any two opposites. it is nothing special. it is safe. i want to feel something more than this.

"you strike me as someone who really wants to try and see and find things you maybe don't fully understand in the world and right now you 'get' everything you've got."

this is one of the best things i've ever been told and i will never forget it

if i could open my arms and span the length of the isle of manhattan, i'd bring it to where you are, making a lake of the east river and hudson.

if i could open my mouth wide enough for a marching band to march out, they would make your name sing and bend through alleys and bounce off all the buildings.

i wish we could open our eyes to see in all directions at the same time. oh what a beautiful view if you were never aware of what was around you.

and it is true what you said, that i live like a hermit in my own head. but when the sun shines again, i'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in.

sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole, just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound. but while you debate half empty or half full, it slowly rises. your love is gonna drown.

i'm looking deeper into the meaning and sticking my head into the dark spaces of the closet and seeing the flecks of dust on my windowsill and the crooked bones in my fingers and the corners of your smile and the holes in the music where the drums cut out and the piano fills the emptiness and the goosebumps on my legs rise and everything is in place, even the things i never noticed before

i woke up this morning

in between your sheets

and wrapped in your arms.

i had never seen the way the

tired sun can pour through your window

like honey

so slow and thick and sweet.

i think i was born again that moment

or maybe even for the first time

i am sitting cross legged on a stiff upholstered seat and we are stopped somewhere between cobourg and toronto. the landscape is grassy and rural, a few electrical poles, but mostly just nature for as far back as i can see. holocene by bon iver is playing through my headphones and ashley and justin are asleep across from me, leaned back in the same stiff upholstered seats as mine, open laptops playing whatever music puts them to sleep. we are almost home. i am hungry, sleepy, and in need of a shower, but i am perfectly content being on the road with two good friends, knowing that i have a disposable camera full of mediocre photos of bands i really love and a bunch of bruises i received in order to take these mediocre photos, pushing through crowds, fighting to be closer than everyone else to these bands that i really love. i get to see bon iver in a week, and maybe he'll play holocene, and maybe i'll think about this moment that i'm experiencing right now, and maybe, just maybe, a wave of contentment will flow through me and i will look to my right and see the girl who is sleeping across from me right now, and then look to my left and see the boy i will probably wake up to the next day, and i will smile just like i am right now. we are almost home.

• slept in, got all day breakfast, went shopping, bought two shirts and a pair of black shorts (finally), decided we didn't care enough about cypress hill to go over that early.
• got to osheaga right as beirut was about to start, got a decent spot a few rows from the front but more to the right side of the stage. i had to stand directly behind a pda-crazy couple who were inhaling their cigarettes, then kissing, passing the smoke, and watching the other exhale it. it was bad. someone moved, and we got a bit closer, but i was beind another pda-crazy couple. overall, they are beautiful live but a little boring to watch. he had ukelele difficulties so he only got to play postcards from italy, but that one's my favourite so i didn't mind much. elephant gun was incredible.
• left beirut a bit early to sit down since we were so tired. listened to city and colour. they were cut short since beirut ran a bit behind schedule. only 6 songs, but i didn't mind again since i've seen them three times before.
• went to their stage to get a good spot for death cab while tragically hip played. actually got to hear bobcaygeon live, which was really good. we were about 3 rows from the front for death cab, but the crowd was annoying. a fight almost broke out with a drunk blonde bitch and a mellow brown guy in a fedora because she wanted to be front and center (which he was) even though she only knew the words to crooked teeth and nothing else.
• they were incredible live too, but the setlist was slightly disappointing. in order: i will possess your heart, crooked teeth, doors unlocked and open, grapevine fires (which i did NOT expect them to play, but i was so insanely stoked on), soul meets body, you are a tourist, the new year, cath..., we looked like giants (which featured a huge drum solo at the end with both the regular drummer as well as ben gibbard on another set of drums, playing in sync, really fucking loudly - almost teared up...), and the sound of settling. i can't complain because i've been wanting to see them for years, but it definitely could've been a better collection of songs, and not so much focused on their most popular stuff like soul meets body. but oh well. i'd marry ben gibbard.
• headed over to mstrkrft, prepared for death. instantly dripping with sweat, surrounded by horny mdma-ridden teenagers holding glowsticks, feeling so out of place, and realizing that they are not very good live because every 'song' sounds the same (song in quotations because it literally just sounded like one super extended song rather than separate ones..). decided we didn't want to be there after 25 minutes of a freakishly long man ponytail in my face, so i chose to crowd surf my way out of there. (everyone who attempted to crowd surf was brought to the front of the crowd and brought down and escorted out by security rather than being dropped back into the crowd, so once you're up, you're out of there. i gave my bag to ashley and told them to meet me at the back and i went on up. stayed up for at least 30 seconds then got lifted out by security. i knew instantly that i would never find everyone, so i decided to go to 'the pit' to wait for them there since that was our official meeting place. not bringing my phone was a terrible idea because i ended up waiting for 40 minutes while they went back into the crowd after not finding me by the stage. a drunk boy gave me a nice little striptease and i got to watch half of the flaming lips' set, which was pretty neat.

we ended the night with $30 worth of greasy delivery food, long showers, and shark week. i had a great weekend.