I recently stumbled upon this again, looking through my library of photos. I was going to put up some of my own pictures I've taken, but this one means a lot more to me. It was a birthday present for me a few months back from someone who at the time was my closest friend, a woman who I don't think realizes what it meant for me to have someone like her in my life at that point in time.

Five day old paint.

We Lay in bed,
that broken nail on your pinkie
tracing
down the back of my shoulder.
White carpet stained with coffee and cigarettes
five day old paint covering six day old plaster over a seven night old hole in the wall
Angry then, we laugh now and reminisce....

Remember those times we yelled at pedestrians out of my piece-of-shit chevy?
Black tie, white shirt, black pants, We screamed ‘Mormon!’ and they were left to the sound of asphalt turning, red light fading in the dark.

that somber winter sun setting in the horizon, light reflecting off our mirror into your golden eyes
I’ve seen those eyes
I’ve seen them laugh
I’ve seen them cry
I’ve seen them nearly die
I’ve seen them angry
I’ve seen them one inch away from me,
I’ve seen them hold me

I’ve seen them save me.

The sun blinks out, and night creeps in, and with it,
the sounds of jubilation - divine retribution - for a broken and empty day.
Made soluble by the scattered light of streetlights and neon toys.

Recognition glows, I can watch the wheels turn,
You smile.
“Let’s go” You say, and that soft voice turns something in me, and I am your loyal dog.
That soft voice, bare touch of tear from that weeknight ago.

To switch so fast, to hurt, to cry, to love, to laugh,
to burn so brightly for such a short time.
To recognize we are but a shooting star, immeasurably minute in the working of the world,
and yet still given this gift, each heartbeat strong, finding itself yet closer to that final drop of the drummer’s beat,
and yet compelled to rush forward as blazenly and as boldly and as strongly as never before,
to never back down, to fight for that which must be duly ours by right of existence alone.
We need to live, We need to feel,
We need to discover.

We walk outside.

What is sexuality?

Lately I've seemed to have a run where every girl I meet is bisexual. At first I thought it was on the rise but then I started thinking it's not that it's a rising phenomenon, so to speak, its just that bisexuality in women grows more socially acceptable by the day. Male culture, however, is still stagnantly homophobic. It's seemed to grow only more so over time. In the early 1900's, James Dean and Marlon Brando - two well known, highly respected actors - had a relationship together. It was not something thrown into the face of everyone, but it was just an accepted thing. When the 60's and 70's came suddenly there was a huge explosion of 'bisexuals' in the media, between David Bowie, Lou Reed, Mick Jagger, and others. But I think by the time the 80's came around and the conservative backsplash began, anything remotely gay or bisexual was shunned in male culture. Slowly now more men are accepted for being gay, but I have only met one man that admits to being bi. There seems to be this conception that if there is just one thing remotely sexual between two men, those men can be gay and gay alone. I've kissed another man before, out of curiosity. It felt like giving somebody CPR, so I take that to mean I must not be gay. On occasion I do however still feel slightly bicurious. This to me is a completely normal thing, and most guys could probably admit that to be true if they did some soul searching. However, to admit to any of that publicly is to be labeled 'gay', even though 99 percent of people I have been with have been women. This is not a bad thing, but it still drastically changes social interactions with people.
But the point I am trying to make out of all of this rambling would be that there is no straight-bi-gay list, set in stone. Nobody is 100 percent straight and nobody is 100 percent gay. Even in the Lesbian/Gay community this is ignored or downplayed, and bisexuals are often looked down upon. The Kinsey scale rates from 0-6, with an additional X for asexuality. 0 is strictly heterosexual and 6 is strictly homosexual. This also varies from moment to moment. Overall, I would personally be a 1, but it varies so that one moment I'd be a 0, the next I could be a 3, and quite frequently I am an X. That may even be my predominant number.

Perhaps eventually people will fully realize this and put away the idea that people have to be 'gay', 'straight' or 'bi', and can simply interact with each other as they see fit, without societal repercussions.

Man and Silhouette

A silhouette of sound, wafting around your body in the cool blue night. The Man and his sax, both strangers to these times sit abandoned on the side of the road, ever wandering, ever searching for that place where once again everything makes sense, everything fits.
That same place we're all looking for...

I remember when I was small, and every hallway was a chasm, every tree another character with its own actions and ideals. Now things seem so distant, and anything recognized as larger than myself is sinister, powerful, with its own ulterior motives. so instead I sit beneath this tree, morning earth dampening my pants, in an effort to find some sort of meaning, to find some sort of benevolence in this world.
"Everything is beautiful, just don't be afraid to look"
And so I'm lost out here. And I'm lost when I'm in my own room. And I'm lost when I'm driving. And I'm lost when i know where to go.

But then I look up, and I see your smiling face charging at me. Suddenly none of that matters. I no longer care about where I'm going. I know where I'm at, and that's all that I need to know.
"All it takes is to look up".