(waxing plain)

My brain is the last star burning out familiar skies and all i have to do is stand tall and watch them die.

Ten years ago i made my way out of the annals of avon old farms school with the cocksure smirk of a half-drunk sunmabitch goddamn sure that everything he could ever dream would come to him in blinding waves of joy and rapture the likes of which none of his contemporaries would ever imagine in their turgid worlds of inherent success, physical and financial prowess.

I had a beautiful woman right there on my arm. i had friends and family shouting my name. rumor has it i gave the headmaster a hug when i received my diploma (but that might just be some of my old bullshit invention i keep on saying because there's no one around me to refute it) but at least my hair was long. my sunglasses were on and the cigar i tugged was as delicious as penelope's kiss in last night's dream.

Life was mine and ours for the ravaging.

Since then, of course, college came and went like a bad business day. i've been unemployed. worked with damaged kids and less stable adults. woke up half dead. been high than life with drag queens, strippers and a rock and roll band. i've fucked up worse than i ever thought possible. other days i've pulled off some of my absolute fucking best.

Sure i have no career to speak of. i have nothing in print. i don't have a girlfriend. a wife or any children to speak of (with a coy and needless grin as i'm inclined towards the protection no matter how drunk and tawdry the event). i live in a tattered home in a corner of queens no one enjoys but me, the boys and melissa.

Well, my mom and leigh dig it too. megan and dave.

Hell, that's enough.

But, really, if you wanted to toss my life on one end of the ontological plum line you might not have to stack that much against it. but i'm happy. for the most part.

Fuck i may even feel, at times, pretty fucking extraordinary.

And isn't that all we wanted to be when we grew up?