ivory lines lead.

this irreplacable void in my life is further accented by the abundance of sunshine surrounding me. the sun is shining for me, but its just hidden behind a thick layer of clouds and fog... making everything lucid yet unclear.

because I'm out here grindin..

the past two days have been really awesome. been keeping my drinking under a strict hold. I'm limiting myself to weekends and special occasions now. its saturday and I haven't been drunk since tuesday. had one beer for marios birthday on wednesday. gonna change tonight though wild party times nonstop. jake and matt moved out into an apartment and I've been there/here the last day and a half or so. using their couch space and playing grand theft auto iv on xbox literally nonstop. I love these dudes a lot they're in my top five best friends for sure. its just nonstop good times with no drama or bullshit... just like me... just the way I like it. its a pretty legit apartment too for sure. I'm gonna be the matt marino of this apartment this summer. aka you can find me here.






shut it down.

I take a breath...

hold the air until there's nothing left.
I'm feeling green.
like teenage lovers in between the sheets.

mario antonio vasquez.

you're one of the best dudes I've ever met and I am beyond lucky to have the privilege of calling you one of my best friends. sorry we haven't been hanging out as much as we used to back in the day, but that's changing. the golden days are gonna come back via you and me man. you think for yourself and are down for your friend 175%


happy birthday buddy. cheers.

i want to move

+-=

walking crisp cold grey streets ebbed in a lack of color or character. everything is a facade. a bribe. a scapegoat to the lack of truthfulness the world displays. first impressions become the aggregate value. the world being sold to customers as bulk units of quantity. barcodes attached. stocked full of preservatives. delivered on pallets. being force fed. necessary sustainable "luxuries" becoming more expensive than ever. feeding on necessity. to thrive is to do the impossible. to grow a tree where a patch of dirt is, merely wishful thinking. everybodys a leper. nobodys a martyr. succumbing to oppressive suits. lining pockets of those who already have silver embroidered pockets with fortified gold seams. seeing your life in the third person.














"you won't be laughing when your covered wagons crash, you won't be laughing when the buses drag your brother's flag to rags, you won't be laughing when your front lawns spangled with epitaphs"

with my feet on the dash, the world doesn't matter..

the past 36 hours have been way too ridiculously wild. its funny not remembering something and then all of a sudden it hits you and you remember it and its like it happens again. I'm gonna chill out for awhile.



my family came home from truckee and I'm happy to see my siblings. right now, I'm watching the fucking scorpion king with my little brother and I couldn't be more content. my body aches and I can't tell you why. my fucking right foot got run over by a car yesterday. its all bruised and swollen. didn't feel good at all. got pissed at my friend jessica because she was the one who did it. played baseball with friends at the park and I of course dominated everything. I busted the cover off a baseball like my name was benny the jet. game started to get wayyyy too competitive so I stopped playing. left to omars apt where he passed out. miri then gave me a sickkkk haircut with steps in it like vanilla ice. I played crash team racing for the original playstation and I ruled miri because I'm sick like that. all the while it was strong whiskey and cokes starting at 930am that day with paul. so I was DRUNK really drunk. so drunk that I was sober. then paul came back to HQ after nailing some hussie and me and him walked to my house and killed a bottle of wine in about 5 minutes. came in. mom knew I was drunk. woke up and talked to her about it. just made 5 tshirts into tank tops. watching MXC now with my brother... I love this show. seriously though...where the FUCK do they get the original footage for this? looks like the dumbest game show ever.

kooky japanese people.

I got nothin...

concrete.

through being cool.

I'm sitting here on my porch listening to postal service with my friend paul. and I'm listening to saves the day and dashboard too. nothing will ever be right. but at the same time, everything will be right. the more I think, the more I hate everything. the less I think and the more act, I love everyone and everything. I'm confusing. I can't even explain it.


I have a drinking problem. any girl who knows that and still wants to be with for the awesome person that I am, hit me up. ill take on a nice sober date where I will do nothing but hold your hand.








inebriated. severely.

love.

all you need.

give up.

this has been ruling my life lately...





another thing that's been ruling my life is my tendency to think too much and do dumb shit. I just had the really strong urge to contact my ex girlfriend via phone or text aim or myspace. of course I didn't. I hate that girl with what I can only describe as "passionate contempt". haven't talked or texted or whatevered a word to her since she kicked me out into the denver winter on janurary 2nd. if I'm thinking logically with only my head, I will never talk to her again. at all. ever. but very very rarely, I get sudden bursts of thought of the good times and I second guess myself for a second because I step out of logic and step back into love. I guess I just really want to feel what I once felt with somebody who actually MATTERS to me in a concrete, stable sense. I don't even venture into liking girls unless I can see myself with them long term. because short term relationships are stupidly pointless. I'm a hopeless romantic lush. and I come out the loser everytime. I wish I wasn't such a good person... so I could just run through a million girls and never get attached and never feel guilty and be happy with my false senses of security. but I'm too loving, I guess. I'm too deep, maybe. I require something more than physical connection. does that make me old fashioned? outdated? obsolete? a world devoid of morals is passing me right now laughing as it blows by, and I'm stuck standing in the middle of an intersection wondering if I follow the world or I go down my own street and pave my own path?






this place is a prison.

on the comedown

laying in bed with my dog. air conditioner on. dashboard confessional playing.


right now, all is right in the world. ten minutes from now, the facade will be gone.











I'm in bed with the only girl who matters to me.

burn bridges sink ships til the bitter end.

I don't even remember posting the previous post. I'm still drunk.



I'd like to thank the academy.... will ferrell for giving tall ugly people like myself inspiration that we can make it in the real world... carlo rossi for laughing at me... jim beam for being a good friend to fall back on.. ben gibbard for having a majestic voice comparable to unicorns making love... girls for completely fucking with my head 100% of the time. gorgeous girls who are awesome and whom I'd date for being way too far away. transatlanticism. I'd also like to thank obey clothing and drivers caps for constantly getting me false senses of security in the form of girls. I'd also like to thank my amazing wit and sharp sense ofhumor for inspiring songs about myself. I'd like to thank short shorts for being my summer wardrobe... ray charles sunglasses for being the new sick thing even though I've been wearing them for years. I'd like to thank myself for being a drunk and a failure and a loser and a success all at the same time. I'd like to thank water for not being available to me right now... brotha lynch.. and beef jerky. peace.

man

I fucking hate my decisions. ots gonna take me an hour to write this so fuck it.



we all die poor men. live it up.

man

I fucking hate myself.

sixty to zero in no time at all.

I've realized that I want to slow down. almost to the point of being stopped. I'm going to be like I was a year ago... independent, responsible... I was a man. now I chose to revert back to being a boy. I think I want to be a man again. its a wild cycle of events that takes you from being a 17 year old immature kid, being cast into the real world, and learning maturity by force. by january of 2007, I was still a boy. by may of 2007, I was a man working two jobs 80 hours a week with no social life. by january of 08 I was homeless fighting for survival in denver in winter. man status. now I'm back to being a boy. I want the same mindset as may of last year. and I want somebody to share good times and memories with. when school starts, the partying, wildness, and all around instability stops. its game time.


on a lighter note, I haven't showered in two days or shaved in two days, for no apparent reason. I've been swimming a lot though! I woke up today and popped in grand theft auto and started the day off the right way: killing hookers. little brother came in my room and we started bonding at the expense of hooker's lives and cop cars. matt marino called me and told me to walk outside right now. not wanting to make him mad, I walked outside in that instant wearing nothing except a pair of boxers and hopped in the car and hung out with matt for awhile. he's a wild dude. came back here and realized I've lost yet ANOTHER pair of sunglasses :(

welp. I'm gonna clean my room and lounge by the pool alllll day. that's where you'll find me this summer, if you ever want to drop by.

I

love being home. nonstop hangouts. walking around randomly seeing no fewer than five people I know but have lost through the span of time. so far, I woke up, got round table with my good friend jon, walked to omars and saw tory armour and 2 idiots who mean mugged me but didn't say anything when I asked what's up. now I'm sitting at my friend ryan & miris apartment playing the original tony hawk for playstation one. and I am stoked.




welp. about to go swimming. I truly love my life.

mitchell marsolek.

rest in peace, buddy. nothin but good fun wild memories with you. you were like me, livin your life to its extent.. whenever that may be.

960 miles.

so I am sitting here in a cheap leather chair outlooking the tarmac under gate B60 at denver international airport. its 5:42pm mountain time right now.. at approximately 6:10pm mountain time, I will walk the jetway into my bombardier canadair crj-700 aircraft, climb into seat 1A, and start my journey home. I know the chick who's working the customer service counter, so I have a guaranteed seat in first class. seeing all these familiar faces on the ramp and tarmac as I look out of my fishbowl window takes me back... not only in time, but in persona... I was a completely different person a year ago when I knew the person behind these faces. this guy robert uecker is the gate lead... when I worked here, he was so into his job, he would take the lead position even when it wasn't assigned to him. over the years, mr. uecker was cursed with the habit of frequent methamphetamine abuse, rotting all his teeth, severely discoloring his hair to the shade of grey, and making his face uncontrollably cringe into a comical position everytime the slightest occupational predicament arises. he was an asshole. he'd throw anybody under the bus to please management. as I look at him now, I see him wearing the same colored vest and making the same money that he would be had he not been the company snitch. I'm sitting in my first class seat right now and its not much more lavish than coach, although twice the price. I can't even see why rich white folk and businessmen pay for this seat, except as a crude form of status and snobbiness. I feel terrible sitting in this seat, I've realized. because although I'm indifferent to coach or first class, I see the faces of fellow passengers in coach looking at this section of the airplane with longing and inferiority, as ridiculous as it sounds. my stewardess is a 40 something woman who must have missed out on he twenties, judging by the way her hair is longingly being emulated to that of playboy bunny idiots, along with her colored contacts, and her customized uniform. contrary to popular popular belief, flight attendants make almost no money at all. 14.75 an hour... and that's only for the time they're actually in the air. they get stranded a lot in random cities too with no means of support. after this, I land in monterey, hurry to a tiny, severely outdated propeller plane, and make the terribly bouncy flight into san francisco. from there, I rush to bart and take it all the way to concord where my friend paul is waiting for me.



so long.

960 miles.

so I am sitting here in a cheap leather chair outlooking the tarmac under gate B60 at denver international airport. its 5:42pm mountain time right now.. at approximately 6:10pm mountain time, I will walk the jetway into my bombardier canadair crj-700 aircraft, climb into seat 1A, and start my journey home. I know the chick who's working the customer service counter, so I have a guaranteed seat in first class. seeing all these familiar faces on the ramp and tarmac as I look out of my fishbowl window takes me back... not only in time, but in persona... I was a completely different person a year ago when I knew the person behind these faces. this guy robert uecker is the gate lead... when I worked here, he was so into his job, he would take the lead position even when it wasn't assigned to him. over the years, mr. uecker was cursed with the habit of frequent methamphetamine abuse, rotting all his teeth, severely discoloring his hair to the shade of grey, and making his face uncontrollably cringe into a comical position everytime the slightest occupational predicament arises. he was an asshole. he'd throw anybody under the bus to please management. as I look at him now, I see him wearing the same colored vest and making the same money that he would be had he not been the company snitch. I'm sitting in my first class seat right now and its not much more lavish than coach, although twice the price. I can't even see why rich white folk and businessmen pay for this seat, except as a crude form of status and snobbiness. I feel terrible sitting in this seat, I've realized. because although I'm indifferent to coach or first class, I see the faces of fellow passengers in coach looking at this section of the airplane with longing and inferiority, as ridiculous as it sounds. my stewardess is a 40 something woman who must have missed out on he twenties, judging by the way her hair is longingly being emulated to that of playboy bunny idiots, along with her colored contacts, and her customized uniform. contrary to popular popular belief, flight attendants make almost no money at all. 14.75 an hour... and that's only for the time they're actually in the air. they get stranded a lot in random cities too with no means of support. after this, I land in monterey, hurry to a tiny, severely outdated propeller plane, and make the terribly bouncy flight into san francisco. from there, I rush to bart and take it all the way to concord where my friend paul is waiting for me.



so long.

can't slow down.

today I woke up in massive state of confusion with the singlemost severe headache I've felt in a very very long time. I was still drunk. I listened to the entire dashboard confessional cd "the places you have come to fear the most", then zaks beautiful awesome funny mother took us out to dennys where I proceeded to eat an all american slam, 4 pieces of toast, extra has browns, and I also downed 4 glasses of water and one glass of apple juice. it was a necessity. having defeated my headache for the time being, I got dropped off at HQ and listened to the entire matisyahu cd, then watched the AMAZING movie elizabethtown. if you haven't seen it, see it. whimsically eclectic. my friend bryan came over with an iced mocha from starbucks in hand for me. it was HOT and we were dying even being indoors, so the windows got closed and the a/c got turned on. zak comes home from work and lets us know that we're going to wyoming. so we pile into the truck and start headed towards the border at about 95. after almost getting into no less than three very high speed collisions, we reach wyoming. first stop, the firework stand. back home, when we want fireworks, we go to winters... this stand was fucking INSANE. heavily air conditioned. they sold mortars there along with m80s by the pound and bricks of black cats. I spend 1.95 and got 4 roman candles. and since zak and the owner are basically gay for each other and giving each other constant reacharounds, the owner threw in 60$ worth of free crazy shit to go with my 2$ fireworks and zaks 140$ worth. we then decide we're hungry so we head north some more to cheyenne, wyoming and most definitely the only mall in the whole state. cheyenne is the capitol and its really offset from the freeway, so you never notice how small it is til you actually get into town. looked like a tiny rural town... just with a capitol building. this mall sucks. tiny. an indoor strip mall. but everybody there is ALL about it... its like the high school kick it spot... everybody knows everybody... waves and hugs get exchanged. we eat and some bullshit place called taco johns {don't eat there} and I have the worst burrito of my life. the whole time I'm at the mall, I catch salty glances from all angles. wyoming and colorado are perpetually stuck in 1998. eyebrow piercings, lee pipes, spiked hair, and ICP are in full effect. definitely not me. we leave the mall and its my turn to drive. somewhere in between the postal service and southland I start thinking about my life... and how I really really wanted to be home. give my mom a hug. be home for fathers day. beat my siblings at video games like I ALWAYS do. have wild times with omar. etc. and it bummed me out. I've only been gone three weeks and I miss everything and everybody from home so much that it hurts. I play myself off as a stone with an icy heart too often... but in reality, I realize that I'm actually loving. I feel transitional right now... but into what? I couldn't say. I couldn't even define my state right now. I'm just kinda.... drifting through life. I just want school to start. so I can finally have a chance to be a normal high school graduate and feel like a normal person. to be grounded and tied down. I need that. my life has been way way way too wild since school ended. and I'm glad it has... because I feel that if it wasn't, I wouldn't be so dead set on going to school and making something of myself before its too late. school can't start soon enough.



so here I sit in the meantime, on a loveseat occupied by only one... drinking some of colorados icy cold pristine water. listening to saves the day.

stay classy, world.

I am jacks cold sweat.

numb. constantly feeling upside down or backwards in this world. hot weather feels like ice in my heart. four plaster walls surround and follow me wherever I go. there's no ceiling. but I don't feel like jumping. I guess you could say some of me likes being trapped... likes being grounded by something... likes imagining blue skies when in fact there's nothing but storms. but surely there is the better half of me who just wants to jump through that hole in the box and turn into a bird. not to go anywhere, just to feel the cool rush of wind on my face as I fall out of a sky that is actually blue when I die... soaring higher than these four walls could ever enclose... just to make my fall from grace. but.. here.. in my own little room that follows me.. is where ill stay. shrouded in false innocence and silent hope. the only thing concrete also being a detriment. I will forever be south of heaven.



upside down feet in the sky.

june thirteenth.

I woke up and listened to matisyahu and packed my shit all day. took about three hours. everybody got home from work around 3. we chilled for a bit then they left to take showers. while zak and jeremy were taking showers, our friend dan arrived at the casa with a thermos. an orange liquid emerged from the opening and upon drinking it, my tastebuds recognized that it had booze in it. I asked what it was, and the reply was "1/4 abolut vodka, 1/8 malibu rum, and the rest orang juice"

I saaid fuck that and added more bacardi to it, then added some captain morgan, then some cocktail mix, then some grenadine, then finally some vanilla ice cream, stirred, and chugged away. I checked the clock and it said 4:05. enough time for some wine. me dan and zak chugged two glasses of some amazing wine. then jeremy got out of the shower and we grabbed some import german beer and ran to the car and did 95 down 6th street. on the i25/6th street junction, we ran into some gnarly traffic. avoiding the traffic, we went downtown and cut across market street to i70 towards the airport. the clock read 4:45. I had to be checked in BY 5pm.




its now 6:43 and I am in a kfc in lakewood, colorado. drunk and bummed.

if you're not with us, you're against us..

ignorance seems to be a governing theme in todays world. from politics to overall general attitude towards one another. people who actually think for themselves are becoming harder and harder to find as time goes on and the overall frustration level rises. now, I don't care at all about politics because it is my opinion that we're fucked either way, but what bugs me is the trend of ignorance in straight edge. if you don't know already, I'm not straight edge anymore. I WAS straight edge for five years, before lots of my friends had even heard of it.... but I definitely haven't been around since the beginning of time. since I have made the conscious decision to not bound my inhibitions to a promise I made when I was 14, I've definitely been getting the cold shoulder from edge kids. I don't make excuses for myself, although in my mind, I have arguable points.. because I have respect for other peoples' outlooks and life choices. I have NEVER even jokingly tried to convince somebody who's straight edge to drink or smoke, because I used to get pissed when people would do that to me. I don't outright force my opinions down everybodys throat via myspace or personal conversation, because that is ignorance in itself. I do get way more personal in this blogspot than anything you will ever read on the internet, however, because the reader has way more of a choice to read it and its harder to merely stumble upon. now, I'm happy to say, my best friends that I was alongside in straight edge and I legitimately love haven't abandoned me, although one or two is more distant. sucks... but whatever I don't want ignorant best friends. its like a powerful cult in some geographic regions... trust me I've been there. people literally will hate you off the bat for not being straight edge. if you are of no association to the hardcore community and do not know the roots of straight edge, you're not straight edge.... even if you don't drink, smoke, have promiscuous sex, etc. straight edge was good to me, it was all I had at a few points in my life, even in absense of a home, friends, or family.. ill love it forever and share a mutual respect level with others for it, just for all the life experiences I've been through in straight edge. it was my christ... my bible... my religion. sounds stupid but its true, except for the part where I never preached or tried to brainwash. I'd go to wild ragers in high school and after high school, only difference between me and the random dude next to me at the party is that he was swiggin on a mickeys 40, and I kept it real with a dads root beer 32. I partied. hard. you don't need illicit substances for that.



there isn't just black and white.... there's a gray area... and that gray area is called conscious thought and logic.

june eleventh.

today, I spawn new innocence. I woke up at 6am today. I don't sleep anymore than 5 hours a night lately. so I woke up to realize that it was overcast, windy, and about 43 degrees. perfect weather for a nice day of movies and soup. I really wanted tomato bisque soup, but I remembered that I definitely ate the last two cans the other night. so I settled for two cans of spaghetti o's and way too much orange juice. I then sat down and watched 8 mile. eminems acting in that movie really goes unappreciated and underrated. brittany murphy still sucks and she's literally a slut in every movie. I wonder if it hurts her self esteem that she keeps being "chosen" for all these roles where she's essentially a whore. after that fine piece of film, I threw in the pianist. I swear to you, this is one of the top five longest movies ever... it seems like I tossed it in the dvd player yesterday and it is STILL on. I love how the movie is called the pianist and not something downcast. the main focus of the film isn't so much a piano or the skill of playing the piano, but of the harsh times in warsaw poland. at the same time, the piano turns out to be the last shred of dignity and humanity for adrien brody's character. I wish I could do anything as well as this guy plays the piano. its wild.

I didn't shower yesterday. or today. scummy.