Val And Tines

Why is there so much hate on Valentines Day? Just let the people Love, Maaan.

It’s become a joke to hate on Valentines Day when you’re single. Like, stop that. Let the people love. You can’t be a Scrooge on Valentines Day.

I have gone 19 consecutive years without a valentine. I’m not too inclined to complain on Feb. 14th because there are people out there are in love and that are in relationships that make them happy.

I think it’s easy to forget that other people are just trying to be happy. This is a goal for most people. I haven’t met a person that wants to be upset all the time. I have met people that are upset all the time, but said person is not in that constant state of dismay because they chose to be that way.

We exist, in the most basic form, in four emotional states. We are angry, sad, happy, and neutral. Most of the time we are in a neutral state. We go about our day to day lives just existing. I don’t pour my cereal with a wide grin on my face, nor do I furiously open the box of cereal and pour out the Cheerios so hard that the damn bowl breaks, nor do I cry myself enough tears to fill up my bowl of Cheerios. I just pour myself a simple bowl of cereal.

Neutral sucks sometimes. It gets boring. It becomes a routine. Being angry and sad also suck, but at least it’s passionate. However, being happy is the shit. All the best things in life have seeds of happiness embedded in them. Puppies are happy, rainbows are happy, amusement parks are happy, orgasms are happy. The point is the best parts of life come when you’re happy.

So back to Valentine’s Day.

Two people are happy with each other. They enhance each other’s life so much that they want to hug and make in front of the library steps. Let them buy roses and over-sized stuffed animals for each other. Let them write love poems and scatter rose petals all over the carpet in their apartment. Let them whisper sweet nothings to each other. Let them do all this so they can take a piece of that happiness back with them to their neutral state. That way her sneezes make him giggle. That way his birthmark makes him flawless to her. That way they can stay drunk off each other. And maybe they can make their neutral state a little more rose-colored.


I have been having a horrible time writing lately. I can’t seem to come up with interesting things to say. This post you just read seems very lacking to me. Something needs to be there, but I don’t know what. I’m not in the groove I guess. It’s funny because I really want to write. Holy shit do I want to write. It’s just not coming out like I want it to. This is part of the reason why the blog posts have declined in frequency. They just won’t come out. I’ll keep writing I guess.

Also, here is what I’ve been working on. They’re on their first draft.

Eyes Like Kaleidoscopes

She has eyes like toy Kaleidoscopes

Not in color no, no, no.

Her eyes are brown, But in how she sees


I like to think that from her point of view

Colors shuffle and tumble around like a spilled box of Legos.

The small ones that get lost under beds and and behind counters.

And then she builds worlds punch drunk and dipped in rose water


I think this is true because of the way she looks at me

From my rubble, from my pieces of me pulverized to dust and kept in my pockets,

From my soul, the torn rice paper it is,

She built me a man.


Triumph  (Told in Three Parts)


No weapon formed against you shall prosper.

You are the flaming sword.

Forged by calloused hands to combat all

That’s welded with your steel and molded with your soul.

All that you must conquer looks back in the mirror,

Your image loosely taped on like a mask on everything staring back.

There is where you must go,

Within yourself.

Soar through the subconscious like eagles

Singe your wings on empyrean,

And dive deep in the ocean where demons dwell.


Only the light from the morning star breaches the water.


Within yourself there are nooks and crannies; undiscovered chasms

And somewhere fear stays tucked away.

A mass of cold sweats and shadows,

Its eyes scarlette like sins and lion mouths.

It whispers softly,

Keeping your secrets in that little space between its mouth and your ear.


All at once, with all the gusto in the world,

From deep within your lungs,

Exhausting every last ounce of Will in your body,


“Thunder, fireworks, and large dogs all scare me!

Bumblebees make me quiver.

Fuck clowns.

Unravelled and tangled cassette tapes unsettle me.

I am nothing but a kid in father’s clothes;

Each thread supposed to wrap around bigger men

With smaller imaginations.

I live life in lovely desperation,

How could I not be scared?


This will set you free.

This will clean you.

This will make the fear wisp away like cold breath vapors.

The goosebumps on your skin will iron out

And then,




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