electrical discharge

I pulled into the dimly lit parking lot. The same parking lot Josephina and I used to lay low at, sitting, waiting, anticipating any sort of suburb(an end) excitement. Nothing as usual. So as innocent seventeens we blasted the heaven sent egotistical melodies that built and prided us..

Five years passed and my boots still fit the steps my poetry slammed and riot rammed all stars once filled. Central Park, and by this time i knew upon meeting American Spirit there would be no ice cream involved, none that involved dairy anyway. I anxiously wandered into the park, thinking he could pop out of nowhere, reveal himself, secretly hoping those noises I was hearing (or perhaps imagining) were his attempt of frightening me. Steel benches enclosing diamonds of their own warmly led my soles toward Him. "Guide Me!" I belted. Within seconds and through a puff of his self-rolled smokes emerged the shadow of He who I would Love. Sporting that same bandana i fell for and his style I hadn't yet known was his style but still assumed it was 'good style.' Laughter and language assuming attraction led us in circles and we had to find a way out of this beautiful sarcastic park. Through the Darklands we were sidewalking, and the glorious black sky of once glummed fluff and goo opened its perplexed web, flashing slight illuminations of navy, silver and midnite, it prompted us to go. willing and ready, we entered.

Poppy lent me the car if it was back by 7 a.m. "Of course Dad!"

Everywhere and nowhere to go leading the way I steered and screeched and scared the poor boy, there was a reason my license had been suspended twice and I probably had a few warrants out in our neighboring Western states. "You can only be a crazy driver if you're a good driver. I could be a 'good,' safe driver if I wanted, but where's the fun in that?" Buckled and belted he wrenched his side bar (of course I drove extra wild, that was the type of ride we were both looking for, right?) and attempted to spell out directions to an old Pointe we now cherish within our childhood memories. Ok so of course he was a typical man, pretended like he knew where he was going, and I actually think he really did think he knew where he was going, but after 45 minutes of fuel frittering i decided this had to stop. He led me to an on-ramp but "OH shit! this is wrong!" stop the car. back it up. I woulda risked it but it was too much too fast, not too furious. Finally we found our way and sat and listened to each other's stories and connected more than i had with any one of interest in a long time. The silent, vacant flats set an eerie setting, reminding us both of that opening scene in Zodiac (when the pair of lovers preparing to get down and dirty take a harsh beating of bulletts); my sick intrigue with serial killers constantly creeps, picking, creating scenarios in my susceptible little head. Better said than I could, 'we had a successions of bursts of recognition in each other, each one trumped by the next.' From the booze ban in high school replaced by positioning pranks on others, this connection was unreal. Funniest movies ever, he asked. "ok, Houseguest, White Chicks, right now ummm Superbad."

"ok ok, but have you seen Tropic Thunder?" -Because he is who he is, American Spirit, loves this. The satire, the wit, Fucking Robert Downey Jr. as an Australian black man. The war that defined us. Killed us. United and tied and supposedly untied the hate and segregation and racism but i say it just knotted it tighter- "No, and I didn't really care to. I have this weird obsession with Vietnam and I think those funny guys are laughing at my era and I don't appreciate it."
"It's hilarious you gotta see it."

Any excuse for more time spent and I called the movie store, pulling my usual over the phone flirt 'i get what i want and you're helping me get there' attitude. Stoned out of his mind employee answers and I demand he let me rent after hours, "I NEED TROPIC THUNDER!!" I yell, half desperate half cracked out sounding, "MY PARENTS KICKED ME OUT OF THE HOUSE AND I JUST NEED THIS TO SAVE MY LIFE!!! PLEEAAAASSEEE!!! whats your name? I'm on my way."
"Sorry girl, we're closed, you're just gonna have to put those pipe dreams down, My name's Jesse Fernandez."
So of course I go on for a half hour, lying and crying and truly praying he'll give in and give me get this excuse for bonding and cuddling and all other essentials in movie watching.
"LISTEN JESS! I NEED THIS FILM AND I'M COMIN DOWN THERE! Transforming to a sexier tone, "Which way would you like me, front or back door?"
Baffled, "Uhh, if you come right now, where you goin' watch it?"
"With you in the store, honey. I've already gotta key"
"No you don't, and youre not coming." He then went into something perverted and sounded a little high himself, and definitely had to snap outta something when Poppy's car slowly neared the glass wall that separated us. I got out while American Spirit (so Jesse wouldn't be jealous I had a hot dude in the car) played the dumb brother, making spastic hand gestures and quick kicks, while I slithered past the windows, yanked on the door and pulled out my bling bling pure gold necklace, with a skeleton key hanging from it. Still on the phone, "Jesse, it's me. Open up baby."
"Holy shit, you really came. Uh, uh, I can't... wait whose that guy in the car? We're closed!"

After another half hour of trying to convince J Dogg to give us what we needed, and failing but not failing each other, we went back to the quarters that bred Mr. Spirit himself.

byrd

When you're feeling so alone, tell me where is it you go?
If I'm sittin in my boots I'll grab the jingle jangles
and take a trip to the Sun
In hopes of finding Mr. Tambourine Man,
or somethin' close to him
Flip through channels and airwaves
and every wave that I've ridden I'll remember how I crashed
why is the water so salty? The taste is on my tongue and I
can't shake this feeling,
it's been hangin out too long.

Pirates come and go and steal my heart every time
I guess the treasure in my chest was too easy to find
They all say I love you but is any of it even real?
words and words and words and words and
how do they leave us to feel?
you deny your path was the righteous one,
but baby look how many followers you got..
How can you turn away, I promise don't be afraid,
this is your last chance with me, your last and final shot..

To my head I'm gone dead you killed me with you're golden bow and arrow
when I saw how narrow
you are.
You aren't mine anymore, you always knew I was a whore
Cowboys and Indians I don't think you know who you wanna be
So just run, run away
never put your gun away
and keep goin and keep on makin all the pretty girls smile
It's what you do best so keep developing your talents
I got no hate or even malice for you

but I'm Alive
and I won't cry
anymore. No no no more no, more

lets fly
lets dance
lets take a chance and make for change
maybe make a few bucks while we're at it
we'll be cats in other lives
but we're byrd in this one
if you gotta broken wing
i'll patch it right up, if you let me.

But baby tell where you go, when you're empty, so alone.
So I can find you
and you can save me...
lets fly

let us be lovers

He had been texting me all night
Said we were gonna go get ice cream, talk, get to know each other.
I didn't even know this guy, but that sounded way too normal, too normal for him anyway.

I was always doubtful of America. Always. It had nothing to do with American Spirit, it was the history of my whole life in the States that formed my fear, my hesitance of "falling for that." i've been there. i've been That girl. the sad, broken hooded girl with the tears, the mascara streaks, with HIS footprints still present on her skin, HE couldn't catch her teardrops, wish upon her stars, love her the way she needed. Neither of us could walk a straight line, nonetheless walk it together. So, like we all do, I went through the cycle a time too many. And now I was dizzy. I was not to be played a fool. I was not to be hurt. So I became the player, the ball in my court and I did what I pleased and became in charge. Quick enough I was numb; if someone had to get hurt, like the rules implied, it wouldn't be me.

so i set out on that rainy December California night, wipers full in motion and my guards up. i searched through the drizzle for the hitchhiker, that American Spirit (I had no idea what it would taste of} that would catch my drift and unexpectedly feed his soul to me.

blurrrrred

.
.
.
.
it's hard for me to write this

because there's
so
much

N O I S E
.
.
.
.

something in the air

stop eating sugar late at night
cuz maybe that's why i'm not sleeping..

and its been a while since i have
without the help of the Rx and the overpriced drinks
and the sound of him sleeping
it gave me no sound of silence
just a sound of a wish
and that's all i was to you
and that's all i'll ever be
until you fix what MAY be, maybe.

and my roommates got another guy
and to the bathroom he goes
and i hear their every move ment mo' ment
mo' or less
never enough
not enough

we've partaken an exchange
you're the girl I used to be
so I won't judge and never do...

but did i really do that?

Maybe we just don't see ourselves

                         the way we really are.

and if you were watching you're ever MOVE ment, every MO ment...

would you want to move?
would it make you shake
meant or mean WHAT did it mean?
what DOES it mean?

all i know is we can change it if we want
you're granted the chance in THIS life

every passing minute is a another chance to turn it all around.

so take a CHANCE + CHANGE. it's just one letter holding you back

almost famous

hide outs and dug outs and shelter me from the world
and i'll wear big glasses and pretend it's all okay
sissy when is the day that you'll come and play?

tangerine and beauty queens
and zeppelin will never die in these dreams

does your hair still fall
the way that it did?
and you've hit your head but baby, you AINT dead

lie and commercialize
and she's just what you wanted
but i'm sorry sir I can't be that no more
baby said she's hiding is wisdom but I say she's hiding in youth
Youth Young Manhood and am I California Waiting
...while my life goes by, under that Talihina Sky me and Ash used to dream of

and dream on/dream off
friendships fallen out of love
every
time
was it Me or was it Them?

so I'll just part it in the middle, wear flowers in my hair
im coming Home, someday i'll wish upon a star
someday we'll walk Haight and forget about their hate
and hows it gonna be?

remember troubled teens and 'oh she got knocked up?'
loves and lovers and we lied through perfect teeth,
high school fantasy who knew would come true
"they're just jealous cuz we're young and in love"
sing it play it write it jesse and we'll follow the road you pave
for us
and forgot
but i swear its not our fault
so we layed on the fields we never ran
"best friends forever" she still is to this day
and no, you'll never be replaced.

and I think it's time we go back home lover,
find me waiting at bart
live in a musical because we CAN'T stop listening
the sound is still speaking

 I mean, they don't even know what it is to be a fan.
               You know, to truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band...

let us find that within us again... and find ourselves singing and "oh lover, this is the time of our lives." i need you + i love you + i miss you

it was all I hoped it would be

Monday, Monday and I was California Dreamin'.

Julius and I went to eat that night. 1940's grace and all-American, he was so classic, so perfect. He took me to a chain restaurant, somewhere typical, I could have guessed. Yes, Julius COULD be a romantic, but my kind of romantic, we'll see. I wanted to be swept off my boots and twirled in my dress and taken somewhere I'd never seen, never heard of, somewhere hidden that only He and I would know about it.

We went to BJ's.

I had this thing against largely owned chain restaurants ever since I got fired from T.G.I.Fridays (THANK GOD is right. It "wasn't my fault my phone didn't get service at the beach", and "oh yeah sorry Maria, I forgot to tell you I'm moving to Fullerton and am there now looking for apartments. My bad."). There is such a difference between the restaurants you see advertised in the yellows and those praiseworthy hole in the walls. Give me a place where I can meet the founder, or at least learn his story. Let me share your childhood and taste that ice cream that for a while only you and your cousins knew. Grandma's secret recipe and pass down that tradition. I don't want this company that was bought out, and "yes we serve this same dessert around the country for the same damned price and it's recipe and yes, in fact was created by the same guys who granted you the McFlurry."

I still enjoyed a margherita pizza, don't worry Janice, it was all I ate that day, and the company of Julius. We sat and chatted for hours, and I actually started to like this fella.

Eyes traced our every move so closely as we were led to our table it was as if we were walking for Mr. Marc Jacobs himself down that lit up runway. We were more than aware of the gazes, we basked in it for a minute and just gleamed back. Finally seated and Julius asked me why girls always stare each other down. "Because we're always competing," I shortly stated. This was a subject my girlfriends and I studied for years. I hated to admit it, but it was true. Constantly wondering what Her life's like, comparing it to our own. Boyfriend? Girlfriend? What did she eat today? Is she prettier, better or more interesting than me? It's a disgusting part of those of us vaginally blessed that we all deal with. Some hide it better than others, but we all must face, come to terms with and get over it. No one knows exactly what that girl, person, whatever is going through, or has gone through, as will no one ever fully know that about you. So why judge? Why compare? I find it best to just accept and listen to what Paul sang and, Let It Be.

Julius and I were big on people watching. We laughed at fatties eating and drinking, skinnies being fatties, pretties eating their ugliness and uglies well, just being ugly. He was funny. I laughed at his strange comments, (okay and maybe at him too for trying a tad too hard) that were so absurd. I was genuinely entertained. He had stories and I had stories, maybe we could create a story. Maybe.

Julius dropped me off in his dirt covered Wrangler and he let me listen to whatever I wanted. Dials and broadbands didn't matter right now. I had other stations streaming through my mind, and as quality as my time was with this gent, American Spirit was on hold and waiting in the rain.

Monday Monday, so good to me...

and about to get so much better.