As of 11:47pm tonight I realize two things: I�m done with everything �important�, and the Rolling Stones are the best band in the history of the world�well up until Tattoo You anyway�and maybe some of Emotional Rescue if you want to really push it. I took the day off from worrying. I took the day off from doing anything important. Without feeling anything important. All feelings inside that I just left home for the day. There�s really no reason to even worry anymore. Well, quite the opposite, there is reason to worry. I�m just ignoring it. I�m not getting myself back into July. I�m not getting myself worked up over anything anymore. It�s all useless. I talked about how trivial and shallow I�ve been in the past last night. I don�t really see the problem with that now. I�m shallow. I want to be shallow. Only shallow. I�m pressured into name dropping everyday now. I�m pressured into putting this mask on every evening. I�ll let them all go about their daily business, and I�ll worry about me over here for now. Another vacation if you will. Another vacation from the day to day social antics. A break from the day to day issues that bring me down. I can�t think of a better method than hiding under this tree. There are better methods, but this hermit one is the best one yet. This is definitely the best one yet. It�s getting to be that season anyway. The cold dry season. The season where I sit here and drink hot beverages and stare at the phone all night. This coming season I�m not going to stare at the phone, I�m going to disconnect it. I�m going to ignore it. I�m going to throw it out the fucking window if it rings. I�m going to drop an anvil on top of it. I don�t really believe a word anyone says at this point, so why even go on humoring people anymore that I already do? I lie to everyone. I lie when I smile at someone. I lie when I go to sleep at night thinking about walking the streets of Boston arm and arm with someone. I lie to everyone when I see them and shake their hands, like I�m happy to see them or something. How the hell�I mean what the hell could I possibly be thinking at any given time when I�m out. I know I like to converse with myself and make jokes about people and laugh to myself, but it grows tired after a while. Just not really digging the surroundings, and what people turn into under certain circumstances. Mick Jagger wouldn�t let this happen. Mick Jagger wouldn�t be in these shoes. I think about that all the time. Keith Richards isn�t worried about impressing anyone tonight. James Brown isn�t sitting in his bedroom pissed at everyone tonight. I start looking at people as drugs. Drugs that addict me with the snap of a finger. Drugs that bring me down. Drugs that pull me up. Voices and faces I can�t remember the next night. You get this every other night kid, don�t think that I�m giving you more than your fill for the night. You can have the car, but you don�t get the house and the swimming pool. There are other bridges for me to cross first, then you can maybe come over for wine and roses and fireplaces and shrimp cocktails and Stan Getz and couches and kisses goodnight until tomorrow. Either way, get back in your fucking hole you mother Fucker, I�m not fucking ready for your crap tonight. So you mean you don�t want the ride in the limousine and the champagne tonight? I fear a few things. One of them is not love. I just can�t even think about it right now though. Not falling in love. Having love sitting out there in space is what I mean. I can�t have any love. I don�t really think it�s an issue I want to talk about. I just feel like I don�t really give a fuck about anyone either way right now. Nobody is close to me again. Nobody is ringing me. I ring and I get hung up on. I ring and nobody picks up. I ring and someone picks up, but there�s really nobody there. Someone must want to get fucked all night. That�s what it is. Someone wants to get fucked all night. There�s no time for shit talking tonight. I�m going to fuck all fucking night tofuckingnight. I ain�t having no diseases whispered into my ears tonight, I�m just gonna fuck so fucking much that I�m going to have to smoke a pack of cigarettes when I�m done, and use a wheelchair for a week. I�m gonna fuck myself into next fucking century. This room is white. This room is all white. The room of last summer. The room that drives me up the fucking wall. The room that pulls me on top of someone until I completely fucking destroy them. Sitting here typing words and fire out of my head on nicotine and lack of attention. A big baby crying. This stupid looking white room. The room outside I have hasn�t been visited in a long ass time now. There are no visitors. A no new visitors rule apparently is in place now. Unfortunately, some girl put it up out there. A while back. She came over here and did her little dance around the room, talked her talk, laughed at my jokes, gave me the kiss goodnight, and then put that sign up. Now closed for business. Now closed for the winter. Do not disturb. Thanks for putting that up out there on the lawn. In front of the room. The room I never go in anymore because it�s just me in that room. Yeah, I�m all right. Sure. Let me get that for you. I am a burden to you, is that what you�re telling me now. I bugged you in to this whole thing. I can�t help but thank you though. This is how I wanted to be anyway. This is exactly where I always want to be. Fuck that positive guy out here selling things, and displaying historical facts like encyclopedias. Selling himself to the small group. The small audience, nice little red velvet curtain. Behold, the alien boy. Behold the white room in the summer. Back for an exclusive engagement. Back just in time for school. Back in time for all the little kids to witness. All the little girls with the bows in their hair, and brand new school clothes. All ready to break hearts all semester. Ready to meet on the beach only to kick sand in the face and make fun of them. Ready to ride off into the sunset with Sid Vicious on the motorcycle. Dancing in rooms for him and putting on the same show in front of the red velvet curtain. Hey that�s my fucking stage, what the fuck do you think you�re doing? This is my show for you to watch. I could care less what antics you�re pulling right now. I know your type. I know all of you. I know all of your sisters. I met them years ago. I thought you all flew away into the sun or something like that. My friend Harry once told me �to trust is to work, to love is to work, to hate is to take a day off� . harry always had these little quotes and philosophies and little jargon he would share with me. I never introduced Harry to any of my friends, or anyone for that matter. I met him a long time ago, when I was a punk rocker or whatever you call it nowadays. He�s an old man. We meet for coffee now and again in the city and talk about books and girls and jazz music. He�s s good man. I always want to take him out around here, just so he can put faces to my friends I mention now and again. He doesn�t care really though. He has a couple of friends he visits day to day and talks about politics and things he doesn�t talk about with me. The Bruins in the 70�s and 60�s and the Boston Garden, and sports and Tip O�Neill, and that kind of Boston folklore and sports crap I have no real interest in. I went to his house once. He has two television sets. One so he can watch the Celtics, and the other so he can watch whatever tv shows are on that he likes. He�s super intelligent, but watches tons of junk television because �it makes me even smarter�. That sort of makes sense to me. Actually it makes a whole deal of sense to me. Anyway, I think it would be kind of funny if I took him to Salem. He hasn�t been out of the city in ten years he claims. So he�s had many bad women experiences. It�s funny to hear some of the stories he has. �The psychotic waitress I dated in Chicago�, �my ex-wife from North Dakota that was fucking the cop�. All sorts of crazy shit. I someday wish I could have as many stories as he does. I�ve been giving him copies of short stories I�ve written for a while now. He always gets a kick out of them �why does the guy always lose in the end Christian� he asks. �I don�t know Harry, tell me� I answer. All the little girls have their little book bags, and new sharpened pencils. Fingernails painted shiny and new. Fingernails all done up to drag down chalkboards into unsuspecting boys� ears. They meet me at recess and throw those red balls at me. The red snowflake ball that bounces as high as the flagpole. They say I have cooties. They come around and want to party after school lets out though. They want me to walk them and their 8 history books home. They want me and my hands to take them home to the door so they can get ready for dinner, and a phone call to me late night to tell me how handsome I looked. They throw balls and then tell me how much they want me to brush their hair for them. I�m not walking anyone across the street now though. No matter how many cheerleaders edge me on. I�m not going there, sorry. I�ll get to the edge and then pull myself over with eyes I remember. I get to the bottom of all of this, and then I push myself into the fire. Into the depths of fall and winter. My blood gets drained all over the floor, and all I get is this lousy T-shirt. I was once worth more than Donald Trump. Nobody loves a broken clown though, remember. I love it when they call and I am on my lunch break. I hate when they come and visit just to test me. See if I�m going to say anything nice today. She comes by the desk way to much at work. She wants me to say something nice. I just can�t do it ever. I�m in July 99 mode with her at all times. I can�t go there. I can�t help but feel like taking a day off. Like Harry says. Like he tells me every time right when we see each other. Okay I get it, don�t worry. She was once real important to someone. I could never be that though. Not after those late afternoon visits and flirting sessions. I have a girlfriend I�m going to tell her. My girlfriends name is�Dorian�no Stefanie, no it�s Heather. I have a girlfriend that fucks me all fucking night. I can�t see you anymore. This needs to end. I�ll send you a bill. You owe me for that one meal. You can give me fifteen bucks, or you can just never talk to me again. I�ll give you fifteen bucks if you do that actually. I�ll run this way, you run that way. Ready, on your mark, get set, go. Go the fuck away. Please.

before & after