SUPER POWERS
...one thing to always try to avoid on a date is the conversation in which you have to hypothetically pick super powers. now i know what you're thinking, you're thinking "but matt, i've never been on a date in which i didn't discuss the aspects of hypothetical super powers. it's such a great ice breaker and i'm a giant nerd." i know you idiots, but i'm even a more big eristic nerd and more awkward than any of you will ever be. i'm just trying to tell you the way it is. this seemingly obvious conversation which always comes up on all of my dates is a time bomb waiting to blow any false cool and pretend mystic you've managed to muster in the first place. you need to know that this conversation can be very revealing towards several aspects of ones inner being, giving clues to such things as personality, hair color, and even sexual deviancy.
for example: invisibility. who wouldn't love to be invisible? coming and going as you please, catching small prey for dinner, pushing a younger sibling down the stairs and blaming it on there down syndrome. but your date knows exactly what you'd do if you were invisible. look at her boobies and downstairs parts. sample the goods before desert even comes out. invisibility equals pervert.
the gift of flight...a no brainer right? wrong. you're thinking about flying around with the birds in absolute freedom, breathing in of the clouds, stopping global warming. but your date is thinking other wise. she can totally picture you robbing the astronaughts of there space bucks. and you'd be smart to do it too, you can get a dollar seventeen for mars money down here on earth. sleazy thinking dirt bag. you're just another flyboy gone bad in her eyes.
"what about super sonic speed?" you ask. dude, guys finish way too early enough as it is. try pleasing a woman when you shoot in your pants moron. god! who are you anyway? reading this shit right now. obviously a dumb-dumb face if you thought super sonic speed.
the only real answer to even possibly give would have to be fresh breath. what? what did you just think? not a super power? try telling that to your new arch nemesis stank-tooth. plus you end up saving a ton of money on tic-tacs.
WRITERS NOTE: and you people wonder why i don't have a girl friend. 'cause this is the shit that goes through my mind at an alarming rate every single minute of every single day. super powers? where do i even get this shit? could you deal with it? i certainly can't. i mean seriously, this is what happens when i start sitting down at the ol' puter (that's slang talk for "com-puter"...get it? probably not...idiot). when is this going to stop? love you all, matt.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
THE CONVERSATION THAT I HAD WITH A YOUNGER VERSION OF MYSELF
"in a field, i am the absence of field. this is always the case. wherever i am, i am what is missing." -mark strand
it was somewhere between may and june because i remember either the mayflies being late or the june bugs being early. but the whole place buzzed with life. it was the time of year when the dusk had just relearned to argue against the coming of the night. you could tell because the dead oak tree at the far end of the field silhouetted against the sky like heaven's windshield had been shattered. and i remember the wheat rolling with the wind. how i loved to watch it roll. it complemented my mood. swaying like a metronome to an ancient rhythm long since forgotten. a whispered cadence that only nature knew. grasshoppers jumped in step as if mortar rounds were soaring to unknown foxholes. a quiet war for a beautiful day. and let's not be mistaken...it was that kind of day. perfect and serene, somewhere out the pages of robert frost. it was the vermont i had grown up in. the vermont where i'd spend my life.
underneath that giant oak sat myself, seven years old and unassuming. what else to do but make introductions? i walked slowly taking in what i could, breathing the air, and feeling the stalks flirt against my thighs. i remember whipping my palm across both lashes of my eyes; clearing out the pollen, brushing daydreams from my mind. as i rounded the tree and came up next to myself i remember how unassuming i looked, how innocent, like i hadn't a care in the world. my whole life was ahead of me and i just sat there with a blade of wheat in my hand swiping it across my knee like it was my job. as if the whole world would end if i took a breath and stopped to look around.
"hi." i said with a surprising weakness to my voice, "mind if i sit down?"
he didn't look up but stopped playing with the wheat, then paused for what seemed like an eternity. "sure." he said, "i've been waiting for you." He spoke slowly and deliberate, strange for a boy of his age.
i brushed off my jeans and leaned quietly into the tree sitting down beside him. "how did you know i was coming?"
"because there was something you wanted to say." he never looked up. just out and into the distance, eyes fixated on the horizon as if waiting for something that was bound to come shortly. and he never stuttered or hesitated. his voice rang out; young but clear, awkward but full of confidence. and suddenly i wondered what i possibly could have to say.
"i guess i just wanted to tell you what it's going to be like when you grow up."
"oh?" he said with a strange candor to his tone. I remembered how he grimaced, looking down with his eyebrows raised, chuckling to a joke that he’d never share and one that I wouldn’t understand if he did.
"it's not like it is for you now...it's" i hesitated, wondering how to explain to a little boy the complications that life had in store.
"how is it?" he snapped back…butting in the way I still do to this day.
"it's different.” I finally blurted out, “hard i guess. things get really complicated."
"complicated how?" this wasn't going how i planned.
"there are a lot more problems...serious problems that might be hard to figure out."
"but there's never such thing as a problem without a gift wrapped inside." he said as if he'd been rehearsing it for years.
"what do you i mean?" i asked, surprised at what my younger self had to offer.
"we create our problems because we need their gifts. we need to learn from how we fail." i knew he was right but couldn't be sure how to respond. "why did you come here?" he added slowly but brimming with force and self-assurance.
"um...to talk to you about getting older."
"do you like yourself matt?" he asked.
"what do you mean?"
"do you like who you are?...it's a simple question." his words where so clear but there was still that childhood lisp that took away from there meaning. I swallowed back a laugh while digesting his phrase. The words rung clear but they took longer than usual to sink in.
"of course i do." i said finally, as sure of myself as ever.
he looked at me and smiled. his young eyes fixating upon mine with the familiarity of a mirror but with the strength of an untouched knowledge. "then this conversation is over,” he said, “I’ll see you when I get there."
he sat there with a strange smile on his face, staring off into the distance...so in love with the world that i knew never to disturb him again. i smiled too, and fell softly back to sleep.
"in a field, i am the absence of field. this is always the case. wherever i am, i am what is missing." -mark strand
it was somewhere between may and june because i remember either the mayflies being late or the june bugs being early. but the whole place buzzed with life. it was the time of year when the dusk had just relearned to argue against the coming of the night. you could tell because the dead oak tree at the far end of the field silhouetted against the sky like heaven's windshield had been shattered. and i remember the wheat rolling with the wind. how i loved to watch it roll. it complemented my mood. swaying like a metronome to an ancient rhythm long since forgotten. a whispered cadence that only nature knew. grasshoppers jumped in step as if mortar rounds were soaring to unknown foxholes. a quiet war for a beautiful day. and let's not be mistaken...it was that kind of day. perfect and serene, somewhere out the pages of robert frost. it was the vermont i had grown up in. the vermont where i'd spend my life.
underneath that giant oak sat myself, seven years old and unassuming. what else to do but make introductions? i walked slowly taking in what i could, breathing the air, and feeling the stalks flirt against my thighs. i remember whipping my palm across both lashes of my eyes; clearing out the pollen, brushing daydreams from my mind. as i rounded the tree and came up next to myself i remember how unassuming i looked, how innocent, like i hadn't a care in the world. my whole life was ahead of me and i just sat there with a blade of wheat in my hand swiping it across my knee like it was my job. as if the whole world would end if i took a breath and stopped to look around.
"hi." i said with a surprising weakness to my voice, "mind if i sit down?"
he didn't look up but stopped playing with the wheat, then paused for what seemed like an eternity. "sure." he said, "i've been waiting for you." He spoke slowly and deliberate, strange for a boy of his age.
i brushed off my jeans and leaned quietly into the tree sitting down beside him. "how did you know i was coming?"
"because there was something you wanted to say." he never looked up. just out and into the distance, eyes fixated on the horizon as if waiting for something that was bound to come shortly. and he never stuttered or hesitated. his voice rang out; young but clear, awkward but full of confidence. and suddenly i wondered what i possibly could have to say.
"i guess i just wanted to tell you what it's going to be like when you grow up."
"oh?" he said with a strange candor to his tone. I remembered how he grimaced, looking down with his eyebrows raised, chuckling to a joke that he’d never share and one that I wouldn’t understand if he did.
"it's not like it is for you now...it's" i hesitated, wondering how to explain to a little boy the complications that life had in store.
"how is it?" he snapped back…butting in the way I still do to this day.
"it's different.” I finally blurted out, “hard i guess. things get really complicated."
"complicated how?" this wasn't going how i planned.
"there are a lot more problems...serious problems that might be hard to figure out."
"but there's never such thing as a problem without a gift wrapped inside." he said as if he'd been rehearsing it for years.
"what do you i mean?" i asked, surprised at what my younger self had to offer.
"we create our problems because we need their gifts. we need to learn from how we fail." i knew he was right but couldn't be sure how to respond. "why did you come here?" he added slowly but brimming with force and self-assurance.
"um...to talk to you about getting older."
"do you like yourself matt?" he asked.
"what do you mean?"
"do you like who you are?...it's a simple question." his words where so clear but there was still that childhood lisp that took away from there meaning. I swallowed back a laugh while digesting his phrase. The words rung clear but they took longer than usual to sink in.
"of course i do." i said finally, as sure of myself as ever.
he looked at me and smiled. his young eyes fixating upon mine with the familiarity of a mirror but with the strength of an untouched knowledge. "then this conversation is over,” he said, “I’ll see you when I get there."
he sat there with a strange smile on his face, staring off into the distance...so in love with the world that i knew never to disturb him again. i smiled too, and fell softly back to sleep.
Monday, June 25, 2007
...it never made sense to me in all those so called "scary" movies where someone gets clubed over the head, placed in a brown burlap bag, and thrown in the back of a trunk. 'cause 9 times out of 10 they get brought up into the woods. i'd be all like, "darlin', i know we don't know each other very much but you've got everything i've ever wanted in a woman. strong, mysterious, you have a car which is always a plus, you brought me to the woods (one of my favorite places, and you're creative enough to hurt me at the beginning of our relationship instead of towards the end...do you think i can get your number before you do me in?"
Saturday, June 16, 2007
dear matthew j,
seeing how you've asked me several times if you could post my letters to you on your blog and have always been rejected, i thought, "hey, i'll just write you one that you can post." not that you have to (it might turn out to be an awful letter, i did just start writing it) but you have my permission if you want to. just don't use my name okay? who knows what kind of whack-jobs read that thing. i should know right, i'm certainly one of them, what does that say about the thing?
first of all, i'd like to thank you for your kind words towards me and for sharing the fact that you think i know you better then anyone. it meant a lot to me considering how you're one of the most complex people in the history of the universe, i took it as a compliment. just as long as you know that by 'complex' i mean 'boring' and by 'universe' i mean 'apartment'. which isn't really fair seeing how i've never met your roommates. perhaps it's just safer to say that i find you pretty damn cool, just don't let it go to your head.
as for your problems with the panic attacks and your refusal to take pills, i can't really help you there. i'd love to tell you to stop hanging out around so many people but i secretly know that you don't hang around with anybody and actually don't have any friends at all (you know what i mean). so what should you do? i don't know. just keep on keeping on. i do find it hysterical that you could address the entire population of this planet from behind a microphone or a bar or on a stage without so much as breaking a sweat, but freak out at a table with my friends without 17 jack and cokes. i don't mean to pick on you so much matt but it's ridiculous. ted always refers to you as the introverted extrovert and it makes me laugh.
since you didn't mention any trouble with the girls in your last letter i can only assume that all is well on that front. and by that i mean totally fucked as always. how are you not married yet? or at least with someone? dating for christs sake? (my mom would kill me, lords name in vein) is it still that #!?!%$# girl again? the one who couldn't comprehend that the greatest guy on earth just gave her his heart and she was too fucking stupid to know what to do with it? when are you going to get over that shit sweetie? it's been years right? it's time to move on mr. marro, she's obviously not as great as you thought she was. and the next time i come to burlington you'll have to remind me to kick the shit out of her. you're a catch matt and you know it. now don't let that adorable head of yours get too too big, but the last time you came down to visit both teressa and molly thought you were hot, smart, and funny as all hell. and they're right, because you are (after 17 jack and cokes of course). and let me tell you something about women...that's all you need to get them. so start getting back out there and get yourself one. you know that i would do you myself if it weren't for the hubbie. but he is leaving next weekend and if you want to come down...just kidding. not about the fucking you thing, but about ted leaving next weekend. but he likes to watch anyway, so maybe there's a chance.
anyway, i'm on my lunch hour and have to get back to work so i have to wrap this up. i love you so much sweetie. keep smiling and things will work out for you soon, i promise. let me just leave you with some quick thoughts and tips to catching the future bride:
1.) get over moron girl, she doesn't know what she's missing.
2.) stop being so picky, not everyone is as wonderful as me :)
3.) stop lying your ass off on dates. just because you and i find it hysterical when you tell people that you race dirt bikes, it doesn't mean that she will.
4.) when you actually find someone that you like, you have to stop spoiling them rotten. most girls get scared when they're treated like royalty.
5.) you have the biggest heart in the history of the world. seriously, you know you do. the thing must be gigantic. remember, hardly anybody gets your sense of humor at first. i myself fucking hated you for like a year straight in high school until you ran in front of the car to save the neighbors cat. girls won't get the chance to see that kind of stuff if you start talking about jews and killing babies with a perfectly straight face. so you might want to turn it down a notch. at least at first.
okay, my hand hurts and my writing is starting to get sloppy. i'm done now.
i love you matt,
#$!*&%?
seeing how you've asked me several times if you could post my letters to you on your blog and have always been rejected, i thought, "hey, i'll just write you one that you can post." not that you have to (it might turn out to be an awful letter, i did just start writing it) but you have my permission if you want to. just don't use my name okay? who knows what kind of whack-jobs read that thing. i should know right, i'm certainly one of them, what does that say about the thing?
first of all, i'd like to thank you for your kind words towards me and for sharing the fact that you think i know you better then anyone. it meant a lot to me considering how you're one of the most complex people in the history of the universe, i took it as a compliment. just as long as you know that by 'complex' i mean 'boring' and by 'universe' i mean 'apartment'. which isn't really fair seeing how i've never met your roommates. perhaps it's just safer to say that i find you pretty damn cool, just don't let it go to your head.
as for your problems with the panic attacks and your refusal to take pills, i can't really help you there. i'd love to tell you to stop hanging out around so many people but i secretly know that you don't hang around with anybody and actually don't have any friends at all (you know what i mean). so what should you do? i don't know. just keep on keeping on. i do find it hysterical that you could address the entire population of this planet from behind a microphone or a bar or on a stage without so much as breaking a sweat, but freak out at a table with my friends without 17 jack and cokes. i don't mean to pick on you so much matt but it's ridiculous. ted always refers to you as the introverted extrovert and it makes me laugh.
since you didn't mention any trouble with the girls in your last letter i can only assume that all is well on that front. and by that i mean totally fucked as always. how are you not married yet? or at least with someone? dating for christs sake? (my mom would kill me, lords name in vein) is it still that #!?!%$# girl again? the one who couldn't comprehend that the greatest guy on earth just gave her his heart and she was too fucking stupid to know what to do with it? when are you going to get over that shit sweetie? it's been years right? it's time to move on mr. marro, she's obviously not as great as you thought she was. and the next time i come to burlington you'll have to remind me to kick the shit out of her. you're a catch matt and you know it. now don't let that adorable head of yours get too too big, but the last time you came down to visit both teressa and molly thought you were hot, smart, and funny as all hell. and they're right, because you are (after 17 jack and cokes of course). and let me tell you something about women...that's all you need to get them. so start getting back out there and get yourself one. you know that i would do you myself if it weren't for the hubbie. but he is leaving next weekend and if you want to come down...just kidding. not about the fucking you thing, but about ted leaving next weekend. but he likes to watch anyway, so maybe there's a chance.
anyway, i'm on my lunch hour and have to get back to work so i have to wrap this up. i love you so much sweetie. keep smiling and things will work out for you soon, i promise. let me just leave you with some quick thoughts and tips to catching the future bride:
1.) get over moron girl, she doesn't know what she's missing.
2.) stop being so picky, not everyone is as wonderful as me :)
3.) stop lying your ass off on dates. just because you and i find it hysterical when you tell people that you race dirt bikes, it doesn't mean that she will.
4.) when you actually find someone that you like, you have to stop spoiling them rotten. most girls get scared when they're treated like royalty.
5.) you have the biggest heart in the history of the world. seriously, you know you do. the thing must be gigantic. remember, hardly anybody gets your sense of humor at first. i myself fucking hated you for like a year straight in high school until you ran in front of the car to save the neighbors cat. girls won't get the chance to see that kind of stuff if you start talking about jews and killing babies with a perfectly straight face. so you might want to turn it down a notch. at least at first.
okay, my hand hurts and my writing is starting to get sloppy. i'm done now.
i love you matt,
#$!*&%?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Saturday, June 09, 2007
SUMMER
...and any outside
cafe on church street will do
for watching people.
keeping amused as the martini
i'm drinking plays a game
to find me;
cold.
warm.
warmer...i drink it slow.
the dry vermouth
has a sense of humor
and a personality all its own.
unlike the owner
of those perfect breasts
the corner of my eye flickers to.
it's a good martini
and i'm being judgmental
less bitter
though just as salty...
i'm always thinking of you.
...and any outside
cafe on church street will do
for watching people.
keeping amused as the martini
i'm drinking plays a game
to find me;
cold.
warm.
warmer...i drink it slow.
the dry vermouth
has a sense of humor
and a personality all its own.
unlike the owner
of those perfect breasts
the corner of my eye flickers to.
it's a good martini
and i'm being judgmental
less bitter
though just as salty...
i'm always thinking of you.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
HUG A TREE
ahhh, back to the world of the living for the time being. and let me tell you...it sucks! is it wrong that i've had better conversations with trees than i've had with most people? i'm really not even sure what that means...but it's true. i feel like i just can't relate. for all the time i spend in the woods i always dread coming back. and end up wondering "why did i leave?" i end up being this little circus monkey that people come to see and pay huge amounts of money to spend an evening with. "matt's working the bar tonight, he'll make sure i have fun." and i do...time and time again. blast terribly amazing tunes from the stereo. dancing and laughing and saying wonderfully insightful things like, "well, if you don't love that person...you probably shouldn't be with them anymore." "wow! they all say....you're smart!" "no...i'm afraid not...i'm sober and you're a moron." why do i do this? 'cause it's my job. pushing the last legal drug onto the masses while they soak it up and fornicate all over the place, making stains, stealing my mojo, and sucking out my last shred of dignity as well as my will to live. i think i'm going to have to find a way to camp all year 'round. teach kids and play in the woods for pennies a day. sure, i'll be poor. but i'll be happy. and when i can't afford the kemo to save my cancer ridden body from almost certain death...i'll die with a smile and talk about how i'll become part of the soil cycle, giving nutrients to the earth for new life to grow.
ahhh, back to the world of the living for the time being. and let me tell you...it sucks! is it wrong that i've had better conversations with trees than i've had with most people? i'm really not even sure what that means...but it's true. i feel like i just can't relate. for all the time i spend in the woods i always dread coming back. and end up wondering "why did i leave?" i end up being this little circus monkey that people come to see and pay huge amounts of money to spend an evening with. "matt's working the bar tonight, he'll make sure i have fun." and i do...time and time again. blast terribly amazing tunes from the stereo. dancing and laughing and saying wonderfully insightful things like, "well, if you don't love that person...you probably shouldn't be with them anymore." "wow! they all say....you're smart!" "no...i'm afraid not...i'm sober and you're a moron." why do i do this? 'cause it's my job. pushing the last legal drug onto the masses while they soak it up and fornicate all over the place, making stains, stealing my mojo, and sucking out my last shred of dignity as well as my will to live. i think i'm going to have to find a way to camp all year 'round. teach kids and play in the woods for pennies a day. sure, i'll be poor. but i'll be happy. and when i can't afford the kemo to save my cancer ridden body from almost certain death...i'll die with a smile and talk about how i'll become part of the soil cycle, giving nutrients to the earth for new life to grow.
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