The Departed.

Tim Bruder is no longer.

He died in his sleep last Saturday,

and was not there yesterday.

I did not know him very well,

but I always held him in the highest regard.

Even while cracking jokes in the back of the room.

I'd always do what he wanted,

even if I didn't know how to do it.

He had a silent knowledge about him,

first assuming we knew,

then stepping in with his encyclopedic knowledge.

He was forgetful,

at times he was uninvolved,

but it was because he believed in us.

It was because he trusted us.

Even if we were the scruffiest bunch in the school,

he trusted that we'd do the right thing.

And if we didn't,

he'd rewind the tapes,

and smack us down.

Verbally, of course.

And even know he's only said my name 4 times,

I'll miss him.

I'll miss him dearly.

Because he represented my favorite part of school.

Auto shop.

-----

But that's not enough tragedy for one day.

My wonderful Taylor is now elsewhere.

With another man.

Giving her love to him.

And it's all my fault.

I put a stranglehold on her.

And she longed for freedom.

And that's what she got.

She got away from me.

I lost the greatest thing in my life.

Out of the great love we shared,

all that's left for me is anger.

And memories.

We traveled together,

we slept together,

we put trust in each other.

But, the emphasis was too great.

She became resentful,

because she was my only priority.

Everything had slipped away,

and only she was there.

For me, that was everything I wanted.

I wanted to be seen with her.

I wanted my kids to be like her.

I wanted the security of her,

to show that I was not hopeless,

that I could have another in my life,

and that it could work.

But,

that was shattered.

All we had is now gone.

Replaced with resentment and disdain.

All she can give me now is her appearance.

Her glowing face,

and wonderful smile.

But I know it's not for me.

She doesn't smile because of me.

She doesn't smile for me.

She smiles for her freedom.

She smiles for the present.

She smiles for doing what she's done.

And there's no turning back.

I'm not at the top any longer.

I've fallen into the sea of everybody else.

But I know,

that she loved me once,

and as I drift in the sea,

in the sea of everyone,

I wonder,

if that will be enough for her to love me again.

I have a lifetime ahead of me.

But maybe not.

In the words of my stroke-plagued P.E. teacher,

"Tomorrow is promised to no one."

If I can never have her again,

I will always have the memories.

And hopefully,

in time,

she can be mine again.

And we can share the time,

knowing that we're good for each other.

Knowing that nothing can ever break

true love.

The Desert.

I would enjoy the desert.

The desert would be nice.

In the desert, cold can't hurt;

only at night.

In the desert, I'd be alone,

without a map, without a phone,

but the desert would be nice,

because of the warmth that sets it's price.

In the desert, there would be sorrow,

there would be loneliness,

but there would be a certain homeliness

promised by tomorrow.

I am alone,

all by myself,

braving the unknown,

in very bad health.

I have grown old,

she has grown cold,

If only I had been told,

Our love would not have been sold.

She kept me warm,

she set the norm,

She was the light,

on my blackest nights.

Now we have to forget,

the memories,

all we've made,

together.

She's moved on,

but not I.

I have a little while longer

before I move to the desert.

The place of warmth.

The only place where loneliness and happiness

coexist.

"I love her so,

I can't let her go.

I looove you,

OOH, baby I love you!"

Swift, Abrupt and Devastating.

Well, it's arrived.

Judgement day.

The end of all days.

After days of losses,

days of anger,

days of angst,

we've parted.

The eternal flame

has been extinguished.

The flame that burnt so bright,

the flame that led the way,

the flame that prevailed,

has been snuffed.

The warmth is now absent.

The cold is seeping to my bones.

I must depart,

seek warmth,

broaden my horizons.

But,

if the flame returns,

if a bonfire ensues,

believe me,

I will be back

in it's arms once again.

But, for now,

I must go.

Seek the warmth

that a flame can provide.

The Swishing Sound a Blade Makes.

When you hear it, you should flinch.

Jump outta the way.

That's probably the worst sound you could hear.

Your fate has been chosen;

here it comes.

That's what I'm hearing, right now:

Cameron skipped practice,

Cameron's got three F's,

Cameron's got a GPA of 1.6,

Cameron's not drum major any more,

Cameron's missing credits,

Cameron's not going to graduate.

I dunno.

Maybe he needs motivation.

Maybe he needs unrest to operate;

something to repair.

I can't tell if he's hearing the sound,

or if it's already happened.

. . . . .

Could it be both?

Now we have to figure out who the drum major is going to be.

Who's the 'backup'.

Who will take his place.

Like I'm hearing right now,

"We'll find out tomorrow, Cameron."

Tanner just made me realize

we'll all be in the same school,

if he doesn't graduate.

I don't know if if is the right word to use anymore.

My Duty.

I can't tell if what I'm thinking is selfish or not--but,

I feel like I'm doing more work and getting less and less me-time.

I get home, I do the dishes, do my homework, and go to bed.

I get yelled at for being on my computer, talking with my friends,

but I also get yelled at for being out too long, too often.

It's like they miss me.

Do they really?

I hardly ever sleep over anywhere,

and honestly I don't have many man friends here.

So I'm here, most all the time, except for school and maybe a football game or two.

I want to be able to dictate what I do.

And I understand that I have to be here, and that I have a curfew,

but, Jesus; look at my brother,

he gets to do all sorts of shit.

Band leader, sports, friends,

stuff.

My dad wants me to go out for sports so badly.

Am I a sporty type?

I don't think so.

But, still, I'm pressured, even threatened.

"You have to pick a sport, or I will."

What I want to do is drive.

Really the only thing I've ever wanted to do.

But, when I suggest that, I get squashed.

"You'll have to do a lot more around here."

???

I've gotten at least a 3.5 GPA every semester since the 6th grade.

I have no discipline issues.

I've never done drugs, like practically every person I've met.

What I'm trying to say is I've got my shit together.

I'd please any other parent of any other peer of mine.

I mean, hell; Logan Lightsey gets a brand new car with a 2.5 GPA.

I don't want a new car.

I want to drive.

A plausible argument that might be brought up is cost.

I don't have a job.

I don't have any money.

But how much is a sports fee?

How much did it cost for my brother to go to drum major camp?

$87 per month?

I don't know man.

I've been good.

I'd enjoy one perk of being Bailey White.

I don't complain too much in real life, guys.

I apologize if I sound like a whiny bitch.

It's just life as I see it, at the moment.

And, by God, that's what this shit's about!

Finer Things.

Who can I trust?

Well, that's a question with no answer.

It's too bad, really.

I wish I had somebody that I could tell things to.

That responded.

A diary doesn't help me.

A diary shows how pathhetic I am.

A diary is a sorry excuse for a good friend.

I wish I had people.

Well, I do.

And those people let me down.

Time and time again.

So, maybe what I need is no one.

That way, I would have no secrets.

A novel concept.

I'm sure I'm no better than the people I describe.

So, maybe I should change.

Would they give me a chance?

Laws, no.

I can't blame them.

It only takes one slip to embody a person.

Once I mess up, I'm through.

But, I'll learn.

And I'll be that much better for the next person.

Or, if they stick around,

well,

let's just say we'll go places.

Simple trust is better than any material object.

Well,

trust is up there with the finer things:

http://www.sinemaestro.com/uploads/posts/2009-07/1246453044_1968-mustang-fastback-630-75.jpg

Down Here On the Farm.

Ahh, the good life.

Toilets, food and iPods.

Raining from the sky, being everything we want.

We have it pretty good.

We have hospitals,

we have stores,

and we have each other.

It seems that most times, when there's a problem, it's simply created.

To battle our boredom.

I mean, reality TV?

Dating websites?

Viagra?

We're no longer battling smallpox, polio, or even the common cold.

If people die, they die.

Do ants have Viagra?

That would actually be pretty funny.

But, no.

If they break a leg or something, they will most likely die of complications of it.

A bigger problem than us is the energy crisis?

What will happen if we run out of oil???

Honestly, nothing.

The world might get a bit smaller, but people aren't going to start dying off.

There are bigger problems, folks.

Fuck oil; solve AIDs.

There's a problem.

Well, no.

Overpopulation is also a problem.

So it could go either way.

What I mean to say is, the issues today aren't really going to determine the fate of humans.

We have food, we have our health.

What else do we need?

The answer to the question?

Flip on your TV.

There's an infomercial to show you what you need.

Because life's gonna be hell without your damn ShamWow.

:P