Thursday, February 23, 2006


I grew up in the suburbs of Washington DC. I played Little League; my parents did a tremendous job of raising me. I stopped playing baseball and began earnestly hating my youth. I went to a public high school situated next to my neighborhood. I began listening to “Alternative Music.” I began hating everyone around me and wanting nothing but their acceptance all at the same time. I started smoking cigarettes. I drank coffee. These things stunted my growth. I went days with talking only with my eyes. I got a driver’s license and drove into the city. I felt at home. I totaled my mother’s Taurus coming back from the psychiatrist. I went to military school. I suffered from crippling panic attacks. I traveled to Europe and kissed a girl on the mouth for the first time in a Parisian hotel. I was 17. I read James Joyce’s Ulysses and feel like I understood it. I shook Clarence Thomas’ hand before I was given my diploma. I went to college in the mountains where the scenery is drinkable. I made good friends. I fell in love with someone who couldn’t love me back. I reread Catcher in the Rye and Franny and Zooey. I joined a fraternity because it was something I swore I’d never do. I left the mountains of Virginia to live in my parent’s basement for the pending fall. I peddled music. I played in a band. The band stopped. The World Trade Center towers were knocked down. I drove past a gapping hole in the Pentagon on my way to a show. I relocated to North Carolina in the winter of the year of the palindrome. Amazing people accepted me. I played shows. Many shows. I bought vinyl records. Lots of records. I fell in love with someone who loved me back. I played more shows in more bands. I went on tour twice. I graduated college. I worked at a laundry-mat/bar. I like blue-collar people. The person who loved me back stopped doing that. I drank more than I ate. I walked around a lot and listened to an old Walkman. I realized how much I love my friends. I became promiscuous. I hated it. I moved to Richmond, Virginia. My bands broke up. I became jaded. I felt like I was getting up to walk to high school every morning. I met someone who liked me but I wasn’t capable of letting anyone like me. I drove to my friends every weekend. I put color on bathroom signs for money. I enjoyed eating chicken wings with Harp beer once a week in the company of transplanted soccer hooligans. I left the south. Now I make bed in New York City.



At 1:10 PM, Anonymous kim said...

so i guess i'll break the comment seal...

well done gentlemen.


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