September 9, 2007

  • Esther Immanuel

    I’m still in love with Miranda.  I want you all to note that as I tell this short little story.

    Today, for the first time, I went to Centreville Baptist Church’s College Life Bible study group.  I have to admit that one of the main reasons for my attendance was to meet a pretty girl to distract me from my feelings for Miranda.  I know, I know–that’s wrong of me.  But Miranda distracted herself from me when she was IN the relationship with me; distracted herself with another guy, became best friends with him when she claimed that I was her best friend.  Anyway–I went to the group, not a pretty girl in site.  Oh well, I think. 
         But then, about ten minutes after the class had started, in walks a really quite beautiful Indian girl.  Her name was Esther (well, it still is Esther) Immanuel.  Ain’t that a swell name?  Egh…kinda. 
         Well anyway, throughout the hour-long class, I was constantly looking over at her.  Partly because she was so pretty, and partly because, get this, she was looking at me!  I mean, I was looking all around the room at the other people, but mostly at her.  And so was she, it seemed.  Either I was really particularly weird looking this morning, or I was actually somewhat presentable.  It was incredible.
         Don’t get me wrong, folks: she was nothing like Miranda.  Miranda is so much prettier, so much more beautiful than Esther (I think that’s how you spell it).  But still….
         So what I did when the class was over was I followed the other people downstairs into the main hall (I think it’s actually called Fellowship Hall), and I catch Esther with my eyes walking to the far side of the room.  She sat down on the bench there (she, as well as everybody else, was waiting for the first service to finally let out).  So I started walking over towards her very, very shyly.  When she saw me, she smiled as anybody else would.
         When I got to her, I said, “Hey, are you new here?”  I know, I know: not the brightest thing to say.  But that’s me.
         “No, I’ve been coming here,” she said. 
         “Yeah, I’m new,” I replied.  “This is my first time.  Are you Indian?”
         The whole time we talked, she was smiling.  I guess that’s a good thing.  Actually, maybe she wasn’t smiling.  Maybe she was trying to disguise a laugh. 
         Crap.
         So she tells me yes, she is Indian.  I told her how my mom rents the downstairs rooms of our house to people, and that one of them was Indian.
         “Harishankar,” I tell her.
         She didn’t understand me.
         “Harry Shanker,” I then said with my Americanized version of the name.
         “Ohh, oh, ‘Harishankar.’”  She enunciated it perfectly, almost saying it slowly.
         “Yes, Harishankar.”  And then I asked her, “Hey, do you go to the Thursday night youth group here?  The one for college-age folks?”
         The expression on her face said that she had never heard of it.  And she hadn’t.  So I told her all about it–at least what I knew–and I asked her if she’d like me to find out more information about it, such as what time it meets on Thursday. 
         She said sure, and then she stood up from the bench.  I looked at her kinda funny, and she said, “I can go with you.”  Meaning she would follow me to whomever I would ask. 
         So that’s what we did.  We asked a dude where and when the Thursday-night meetings are, he told us, and then the church service that was running late finally let out.  So Esther turns around to go into the sanctuary, and then turns back around to face me. 
         I tell her, “You should come next Thursday.  I’ve never been, myself, but it’s supposed to be fun.”
         I forget if she said yeah or okay, but she said something.  Then she said, “Well, it was good talking to you.  What’s your name?”
         Doh!
         “Chris.”
         “Chris,” she repeated.  “I’m Esther.”  Then she took off. 
         Still don’t know how to spell that name….

August 27, 2007

  • The Garden Outside My Home is Dying

    The garden outside my home is dying.
    There’s been no rain for a month
    and my plumbing’s broke.
    Where once I stood
    up to my waist in flora,
    I now sit in an entanglement
    of grief
    and shame
    and dying things.

    ^Possibly the saddest poem I ever wrote.  Don’t know if it’s finished yet, though.

August 23, 2007

  • Untitled

    I seem care-free
    But underneath my skin
    Tangled in my nerves
    Is an infant
    Wailing for his Protector.

    Only you
    My lost love
    Can deliver him
    From his pain
    His sorrow;
    Can deliver him
    From his madness.

    He’s weeping for you
    And for himself
    Because it was you
    Who put him there
    And he who accepted it.

    So open your arms.
    Embrace my inner-child

August 4, 2007

  • Flower II

    I gave you a flower.
    You tore off the petals
    and buried the briar stem
    in the mud; closed your hands
    to mine, your beautiful hands
    where once you held my face
    to kiss me in one perfect moment.
    And never shameful,
    never restrained,
    my friend,
    my love.

    I gave you that flower
    to hold with you ’til death.
    And now it rots in the earth.
    And it is here that my tears fall for you.

August 3, 2007

  • Illness

    There was a time
    When we were boys
    And love was different:
    Love was to have constant
    Thoughts of her, all the while
    With a laughing heart.
    Love was to awkwardly
    Sneak an arm over her shoulder
    In a fake yawn during a movie.
    Love was a shy peck on the cheek.

    But we grew up,
    And love was different:
    To love was to lust.
    Love was to stare after her
    As she walked past.
    Love was to imagine what
    Her breasts looked like
    Beneath her shirt.
    Love was to want to
    Fuck her.

    But we grew up,
    And love was different:
    Love was to grow with her.
    Love was to hold her at all times.
    Love was to trace her name in your palm
    With a fingertip.
    Love was to argue, only to
    Lie with her afterwards.

    But we grew up, my friends,
    And love was different:
    We realized that love was loss.
    Love was to be left alone
    In the gutter
    With the dead leaves.
    Love was to trace her name
    In your arm with a razor.
    We now know love, my friends;
    And we know that love is to be
    Unloved.

August 1, 2007

  • Wrote these ramblings yesterday.  It is just my thoughts for that day. 

    My life decided to leave me last night.  Just up and went.  Turned over the sheets, hopped out of bed, and walked out the door without bothering to pack. 

    I wish to God that I would drop dead right here. 

    There was only one angel on this Earth.  But now she’s been taken. 

    Oh, God.  Why?  Why won’t you just let me die now? 

    There was no one as beautiful as she.  No one as kind as she.  And yet they’re all around. 

    These Christmas lights are just killing me. 

    Lying asshole. 

    Fucking bitch. 

    And it will never be the same again. 

    My expectations were way too high. 

    If I were in an ocean at night with hungry sharks swimming below me, I would not be this scared.  I can’t tell you. 

    God, the trumpets are trying so hard! 

    I’m changing.  I can feel it. 

    And it’s going to be one hell of a life.

July 11, 2007

  • My camera came yesterday

    I got my Nikon D200 yesterday.  I can’t decide on a name for it.  Franklin or Suzy.  I can’t decide.  Anybody have any other suggestions?  You can Google the camera to see a picture of it so as to help you in your naming decision.

July 3, 2007