A Night on the Town.

Alone in another room full of strangers.
Feel for a lighter, finding only loose change; her
Memory lingers like a thief on the rope.
A sober taunt of those who still cling to hope.
Daylight will soon break, but will bring no renewal;
There will be no remorse for the romantic fool.
No one approaches, as though he weren’t there.
He’s well past the point of pretending to care.
Tomorrow will find him in the same position.
Endlessly paying a nightly contrition.
A crime even he can barely remember.
Until his hero come along to snuff his
Life’s fading ember.

Broken Ceiling Fan.

A knife, a lighter, and two coins for the dead
Line my pockets while lying in bed.
Scotch burns in my throat,
And thoughts of her cloud my head.
My blanket’s an old hooded coat;
The pillowcase unravelled from pulling the loose thread.
The makeshift comforter offers no comfort.
Rest is a laughable notion;
All efforts fall short.
There’s no shaking her, the intoxicating potion.
The knife is cold in the hand, warming up to my grip.
The idea’s entertained with brief fascination,
Relief may lie in a key laceration
What would she do, if she found such a sight
A piteous husk lying in the insufficent light.
Perish the thought, I pocket the blade
Alongside the lighter branded ‘Army’ on its side.
Craving another smoke, more fire to breathe
Crumple the emtpy pack, toss it; a paper grenade.
Daylight won’t break, night lingers with frustrating pride.
I toss and turn and turn the pillow to the cooler side
Would it make all the difference if she were right here,
Would I pass into slumber, all fat and content
Or would her body just make it this hot room warmer
I kick off my boots and curl up on my side
The way a child lays when he’s trying to hide
From the monsters that taunt him from under the bed
Or in the closet or dresser, wherever nightmares reside.
But that boy has grown up, the monsters now play in his head.
As the pillow heats up the side of my face,
My eye wells up and a tear escapes
To stem the tide I shut my eyes
Pull out the two coins and hold onto them tight
And in an attempt to fool myself, I pretend
To be asleep while she plagues my mind all night.

To Whom it May Concern,

Aug 17, 2006 – 1:30 am

To Whom it May Concern,
ATTN: All seeking a romantic encounter must henceforth complete this form. Completion is MANDATORY for consideration.

Last name: _______________

First name: _____________

Cell number: (___) ___-_____

Are you of age 18 or older? Y / N (circle one)

Have you ever had sex with me before? Y / N (circle one); if Yes, when? __/__/__

Have you ever had sex with anyone related to me before? Y / N (circle one); if Yes, when? __/__/__

Have you ever been diagnosed with a Sexually Transmitted Disease? Y / N (circle one; Note: the existence of a diagnosed STD will not constitute an automatic disqualification from this encounter.)

Please list your last three sexual encounters, starting with the most recent: _________________________________________________
_________________________________________________
_________________________________________________

Number of total partners: With opposite sex: _____; With same sex: _____

Previous partners’ approximate orgasm rate: ___ %

Average duration of sexual encounters: ___ minute(s)

Do you expect me to go downtown? Y / N (circle one)

Can I expect you to go downtown? Y / N (circle one)

Do you: Spit / Swallow (circle one)

What position(s) are you applying for? _____________________

Please list any special skills/techniques you think make you a good candidate for this encounter: ____________________________________

Do you have a reliable source of transportation? Y / N (circle one)

Are you available on holidays? Y / N (circle one)

Females: Breasts: ___ A / B / C / D / DD (circle one)
Implants / Natural (circle one)

Would you prefer cuddling afterwards? Y / N (circle one)

Would you prefer to spend the night? Y / N (circle one)

Would you consider future encounters? Y / N (circle one)

I, _______________, hereby consent to engaging in sexual intercourse with ___________ and understand that the act will be mutual. I also understand that this encounter will be confidental unless stated otherwise in writing by both parties.

_________________________
Signature

_____________
Today’s Date

Due to the high volume of applications we receive daily, responses may take 3-5 business days. Thank you for considering Christopher Petterson for your sexual encounter.

December 8th, 1980.

“Lennon? Sure, I think he lives right over there.” I tried to ask him what the gun was for, but he was already gone. I wonder what he was up to.

Self-Realization.

Aug. 3, 2006 – 5:54 pm

I was just thinking of the immortal words of Socrates, who said,

“I drank what?”

Keenest of Observations.

July 31st, 2006 – 10:36 pm

One night while out at Paulie’s, my friend asked me how many bottles of beer I thought it would take to get this attractive girl we were eyeing to hook up with him. “Probably just one,” I told him, “It just depends on how hard you hit her with it.”

Pondersome.

July 26, 2006 – 5:46 pm.

I saw Hulk Hogan in a parking garage the once, but I couldn’t tell if it was him or not at first. That’s when I realised that I’ve never had that problem before. Up until that point I’ve always been able to look at someone and instantly tell whether or not they were Hulk Hogan.

No Subject.

July 25, 2006 – 8:52 pm

Hemmingway, Faulkner, and Fitzgerald had it right. They set the pattern. Have the adventure of your life in your twenties, spend the next twenty years writing about it, and start drinking yourself to death around forty. I’d better get started soon.

Ruminations on the future.

June 20, 2006 – 2:21 am

A couple things have been happening lately that have drawn my focus to two subjects: death and the future. With my brother’s graduation, there’s been much focus on his future, my future, and the future of this family. Having just lapped another father’s day on the 365-day cross-country track of life, death’s been on my mind. You all know the story of the fall of Matthew J.Petterson , so I shan’t bother reminding you. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about my future. At 19, my “future” still seems like some distant destination I’ve yet to reach, but I’d feel remiss in not considering it. An English teacher? Really? Why not a music teacher? Everyone seems so shocked that i’m not involved in some kind of music study program, so why aren’t I? I don’t know. This leads to the question of why a teaching degree at all; now that Ido know the answer to: a safety net. With a teaching degree in hand, I can pursue my dreams with less anxiety about the possibility (and perhaps inevitability) of failure.

I’ve been looking at all possibilities of where my life could end up. And the prospect of living alone in a single room apartment, sucking a bottle of whiskey dry before bed is not only becoming less repulsive, it’s also becoming more romantic. Blame it on Tom Waits, if you must. As long as music is a part of my life, I don’t think I’ll be truly unhappy. I may not be ecstatic, but I wouldn’t be miserable. Marriage seems increasingly to be something that probably won’t happen to me, and I don’t mind. I’ve been alone for so long, I’m growing accustomed to it. I’m actually rather comfortable with it. Besides, I might make a terrible husband. I’m lazy, incredulous, and if what they say about how the way a man treats his mother is an indication of how he’ll treat his wife is true, perhaps it’s for the best.

I think that when people reach the age I’m at, at least one event has befallen them that leads them to contemplate their own demise, and whether or not they’d accept it. I’m not talking of the self-inflicted type, of course, but say, an inconvenient medical diagnosis, or a daydreaming bus driver you’re too busy adjusting the volume of your iPod to notice. Or maybe the grim possibility of just going, at the snap of a finger, with little or no warning. Spending so much time in this neck of the rationale woods, I’ve realized I do not fear death. In fact, being a college student/twentysomething is probably one of the most convenient times of your life to go. No one is directly dependent upon you financially, and your family will always remember you in a good way, even if you were a dick. Because you can’t speak ill of the dead. Not that I’m welcoming death, I just think it’s a better frame of mind that to be the looking-over-your-shoulder type.

Some things I’ve been thinking about lately:

-How is it that any stoner yahoo who can play three chords can write a song, but I’m having so much trouble?

-Who the fuck is greenlighting (no pun intended) these Fast and the Furious sequels? And why are Japanese teenagers speaking english to one another in this latest cinematic abortion?

-Speaking of abortions, I wonder how my first girlfriend is doing? Actually I’m not, but that segue was too much of an opportunity to pass up.

-I’m tired of these liquor commercials telling us to “enjoy responsibly.” The very statement is oxymoronic. If you’re drinking liquor responsibly, you are not enjoying it. If you’re enjoying liquor you are not being responsible. For example, a friend threw up in my neighbor’s room at school. That was irresponsible. But he threw up in the trash can. That was responsible. But there was no trash bag in the can. Irresponsible. And it was a mesh trash bin. That was gross.

-Superman was never my favorite superhero. He was always too perfect, too much of a boy scout. That’s why I was always in the Batman camp, as far as the DC Comic pantheon is concerned. But the movie does look pretty promising. And it could be worse; there could be another Daredevil movie. Now there’s a useless superhero: he’s a blind guy… with the power of sight. So basically, he’s a regular person. Yeah, I’m a superhero, too. I was born deaf, but over time I developed the power to hear sounds and speech. Evil, fear me!

-When I do die, I hope I die with my eyes open. That’d just freak people out. Then again, I could very well die alone and not be discovered for days, even weeks. Even by then, my ghost will tired of hanging around my body, which wasn’t that exciting to be around when it was alive.

Call it a favor.

June 9, 2006 – 6:15 pm.

I went to Starbucks the other day. I cut out the logo on the cup, then took a green marker and colored in the letters so that it went from reading “starbucks coffee” to “fuck off.” I’m going to make more so that when I throw a party I can hand them out when I want everyone to leave.