Samson

Sometimes
you just want to listen
to a song over
and over.
Something in
the lyrics,
the vocal melody,
the hook,
maybe it’s something
that you can’t
explicitly hear, but
it resonates
within you
nonetheless.

It reminds you
of a time
when smiles came easy,
or it brings to mind
an as-yet unattained
state of contentment.
Maybe the song excites
something primal
deeper
in your subconscious;
whatever the reason,
just once isn’t enough.

I hope someday
I meet a woman
that makes me
feel the same way.

It’s only a book.

Dan said not to start reading it at night. He offhandedly mentioned that it wasn’t so bad for him because his closet doesn’t have a door on it, and since you have no idea what that means, you can infer pretty easily that I sure as hell didn’t know what it meant. He said a lot of things which I thought were meant to fuck with my head, entice me to want to read it even more. I can see now that that’s really not the case at all.

I started reading it at night. It was already well past midnight when I read the only sentence on the first page:

 

“This is not for you.”

 

I don’t want to read this book. I can’t stop reading this book. When I’m not reading the book, I think about reading the book. I hate this book. It’s fascinating. It’s grotesque. It’s magnificent.

Today I was walking to breakfast, and suddenly found I couldn’t breathe. In an instant my throat had been completely closed by phlegm. It took 17 seconds of hacking hawking and coughing to clear my airways. Teary-eyed and hunched over, I said to myself, “My body is trying to choke me.”

Which is ridiculous. Out of every rational explanation, my first thought was that I was unwittingly trying to commit suicide. I look terrible. Everyone said so. I look paler that usual and my eyes are sunken and dull. There’s no way a book could be having this much of an effect on me. I think it’s the book.

I’ve been trying to distract myself from thinking about it. There’s an Opeth lyric repeating in my head:

“Gone through days without talking
There is a comfort in silence
So used to losing all ambition
Struggling to maintain what’s left
Once undone, there is only smoke
Burning in my eyes to blind
To cover up what really happened
Force the darkness unto me”

Over and over.

I have to keep reading. It’s only a book.

Right?

There’s 100.

I remember laughing. I remember piles of leaves and jumping into them, then being afraid of what might be inside them. I remember snow pants. I remember my father’s band coming over and rehearsing all night. I remember when you used to be cool. I remember eating pasta with butter. I remember Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, VR Troopers, Big Bad Beetleborgs, Biker Mice from Mars, and Street Sharks. I remember Elton John in concert. I remember kissing her in the hallway just before SAT prep class. I remember when she told me she cheated on me. I remember walks in the park. I remember Dancin’ in September. I remember not being able to grow facial hair. I remember singing in the rain. I remember being Sky Masterson. I remember when Melissa Etheridge had hair. I remember when Jesus Jones was going to be the future of rock n’ roll. I remember the way you’ve treated other guys you’ve been with. I remember the other 11 kids in my 8th grade class. I remember when we made up the Holocaust. I remember meeting Rachel and it being the best day of my life (pitched by Rachel). I remember wanting to be Short Round. I remember thinking Barney had jumped the shark when they introduced Baby Bop. I remember TGIF. I remember My Pet Monster. I remember nothing. I remember meeting her on Myspace. I remember dumping her and all her baggage. I remember crying. I remember smashed cars and the smell of escaping oil. I remember forgetting. I remember falling off the swing and getting the wind knocked out of me. I remember thinking college would be hard. I Remember Larry. I remember how you’d smile and tell me not to worry about it. I remember worrying. I remember being afraid of the dark. I remember Are You Afraid of the Dark? I remember the man in the box; won’t you come and save him? I remember that summer; at home I had become the invisible boy. I remember hating the way Chap Stick tastes. I remember being 7 and crying when the Muppets split up in The Muppets Take Manhattan. I remember feeling important when you fell asleep as you cuddled up with me. I remember watching You’ve Got Mail and being pleasantly surprised. I remember the surprise party on my 13th birthday. I remember jumping through the window. I remember the day the window closed. I remember listening to Tool’s Lateralus and being too overwhelmed to move. I remember getting chills from Jeff Buckley’s voice. I remember New York City at Christmas time. I remember always enjoying Christmas. I remember wondering why they called it “Xmas.” I remember “discovering” myself. I remember not crying at the funeral. I remember singing her to sleep over the phone. I remember when my brother had short hair. I remember thinking. I remember that I had homework to do. I remember Piaget. I remember playing Ben Folds Five on the piano. I remember thinking this has got to be a dream; wake up. I remember sleeping through my 9:25. I remember never making a decent snow angel. I remember the word “tubular.” I remember watching The Simpsons with my dad. I remember playing MYST all day long. I remember losing my debit card. I remember taking her on a picnic on our last date before I left for college. I remember getting text messages that read “u just paid 4 this.” I remember at one time or another liking Hanson, Creed, Kid Rock, and Limp Bizkit. I remember Summer House in Long Lake. I remember my first opening night; I didn’t get nervous until the show was over. I remember one of my first CDs being Queen’s News of the World. I remember the first time I had pumpkin pie. I remember slamming her head into the wall. I remember Pogs. I remember when I used to be a man. I remember my brother getting hit in the face with a baseball while playing catch with Dad. I remember the Red Scare of ’57. I remember hearing Stairway to Heaven for the first time and feeling intimidated. I remember going to a show at The Chance with my first girlfriend and hating how much fun she was having. I remember getting in trouble in 1st grade. I remember how getting hit in the ear with a snowball put the kibosh on the whole afternoon. I remember how she never smiled. I remember when you’re dog died. I remember drinking a bottle of whiskey that I found on the ground. I remember “Freak dat bitch out, Tone!” I remember the parties in Casey 2. I remember when JohnMike knocked a guy out on the street. I remember reading you “Goodnight, Moon” as Christopher Walken. I remember calling ITS as Christopher Walken. I remember regretting sleeping in. I remember when Family Guy came back. I remember Incubus in concert. I remember my first night out drinking on my 19th birthday. I remember when she threw up all over our floor… bitch. I remember reading Tom Waits as Tom Waits. I remember buying my first pack of condoms. I remember how it was always dark the morning of the first day of school. I remember