in reverse and severly lacking 3.22.10

I want to write a story but lack direction….  I start with the old man in the park sitting in the bench by himself dressed in rags with a grocery cart filled to the brim with a sleeping bag, a coat and tin cans.   I worked at this dive of a texmex restaurant where I’d hook all my friends up and it was always beer thirty.   I’d have homeless guys wander in and I’d always feed them too.  It made me so sad to see them so desolate like no one loved them or took care of them…

My dreams of late have been dragging up the past  and I look  for a things which aren’t what they seem.

Her life flashed before her like a B rated movie and she just sat there wondering what does it all matter

Charlie Parker lived to 34 and look what he accomplished.  I wish I think I wish but I wouldn’t want his problems mine are heavy enough and yet what have I accomplished at 36.  Nothing but a bunch of lousy short stories that have no rhyme or reason.

I’m horrible at writing things down or remembering details; I’m awful at writing in general my thoughts are random all strung together barely coherent if folks knew what I was thinking half the time they’d run home to their mammies and hide under her skirts.

What am I good at?  I’m good at having fun.  I’m good at making you laugh, I’m good at being silly….

So remember and maybe something will come of it…

Remember when we listened to jets to brazil, danced around the shop and took the bottle of wine to sit under the gazebo and stayed up talking all night

Remember waking up covered with sand from head to toe after going night swimming at the beach

Remember when we drank moonshine and I walked around your house without any clothes on

Remember when you would come home with me and do nothing but sleep beside me

Remember when you and I were going to take music classes, I would play guitar, you would play bass and we would both sing

Remember when you played piano as I sat beside you and he played the trumpet and that night I never wanted to leave but had to

Remember when we did blow all night and had to climb the fence to get into your flat on south beach and how I felt dirty and weird

Remember winter music fest, dancing to rabbit in the moon, staying up all night, laying out at the pool by josh wink and repeating it all over again the next day.  Remember getting into the party at liquid, drinking champagne and making it over to the miss moneypenny’s party in the mansion

Remember going to gainesville, simon’s house, hanging out with sasha and digweed in beanbags drinking mimosas

Remember going to firestone in orlando, vip here, there and it was all about the ride

Remember when things went south and I realized what the hell was I doing in south florida wasting my life with losers and while it was fun and while I was just as guilty as you; I have been trying to make up for it ever since…

Remember when we fell into the bushes

Remember swimming naked at the beach in broad daylight

Remember sitting on top of the roof with three waxing eloquently about life and religion

Remember when chris would make mix tapes for us

Remember sitting in the car at our best friend’s wedding, listening to modest mouse and spilling our hearts out to each other

Remember swimming in the afternoons at the yacht club

Remember going to new orleans with my new found angel, seeing janet jackson live and partying on bourbon with dragqueens

Remember bloodys at TuJacques and crawfish omelettes at mothers

Remember drinking red wine and making meatballs in the afternoon with the frenchman and the Sicilian italian

Remember when I didn’t drink until after I was twenty one even though all my friends did

Remember hanging out at david’s house, falling in love with and listening to the cure

Remember tammy answering the front door without any clothes on a regular basis

Some of these memories make me laugh and others are painful.   What I am doing?  Where is my stroke of brilliance?   What is this leading up to?

What do I want and how do I get there is the question that I’m left with….

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About Della

photography a work in progress; always growing, continually learning
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