Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Summer of 1969

I just need one more hit, John thought as he held the bong in his hands. He looked around the dark, cramped basement, and saw Marco, who he thought was his friend, but who would later go on to become the hit-man who would eventually take out John. John would try to leave the gang to create a new life for himself. Marco was laughing like a college freshman who just scored his first case of beer. He was making a giant ass out of himself. John then looked at his girlfriend, Jennifer, who would go on to be a stripper who would have an affair with a mob boss, only to be struck down by a bullet to keep her quiet. John looked back down at the bong and took a hit. As he stumbled backwards in a stupor, he became extremely lightheaded and immediately passed out. The last conscious thought that passed through his mind was I'm so glad I passed up Woodstock for this.

John awoke several hours later. He stood up and his head immediately starting spinning. He stumbled to a couch that had obviously been used for sex not that long ago. He threw the bra and panties across the room and flopped down. He rubbed his temple to soothe the splitting pain in his head, and tried to remember why he woke up on a floor that reeked of piss and body odor. He bit by bit pieced the previous evening together.

Well, first I stopped by at that bar near Middlebury. Thank God they don't check IDs. Okay, that was at about 6:30. John glanced at his watch. His wrist wouldn't stay still and he thought he was having a bad reaction to something he took last night. After about a minute, he realized he was moving his arm back and forth. He snorted out loud when he realized this and almost immediately, some naked guy who must have been in his 30's sat up straight and shouted, "GODDAMMIT BECKY, I SAID TO MAKE SURE THE CARPET WAS PAISLEY GREEN. THIS IS OBVIOUSLY FOREST GREEN." and fell back asleep. At this point, John was biting his tongue and was crying silently from laughter. He calmed himself down and sat there in a drug-induced haze. He remembered eventually to check what time it was and saw it was 9:30 in the morning. Alright, I have 15 hours to fill. I probably spent a good 7 or 8 here, so I'll cut that down to 7 hours that I don't know where I was.

Hair matted, smelling slightly of piss, but mainly of marijuana, John made his way to the stairs, and climbed up on all fours. He reached the kitchen at the top, and dug in his pocket for some money. He left 14 dollars and 37 cents on the table. I sure hope this is Marco's place, he thought. He slipped on his shoes and left the door, slightly more sober than when he had woken up. John walked past the houses cramped next to each other in this slightly lower-middle class neighborhood and to the bus stop. A bus rolled to a stop before John, and although it wasn't a city bus, he got on away. At least I don't have to pay my fare., he thought as he sat down to some earthy-smelling girl. She didn't look that much older than he. He attempted to strike up a conversation, but the only thing that emitted from his mouth was a snore.

Why I Write Part 2

Part 1: http://adailyexperimentcalledlife.blogspot.com/2011/06/why-i-write.html

I write to keep my hopes alive. I write so that one day, no matter what I look like, not matter how big of a mess I am, no matter how badly I fucked up my life, someone will see past that and love me. I write so that I won't go back to drinking alone. I write so that I won't see people having fun and wishing I was dead. I write so that when I die, there will be some evidence that I lived, because God knows I can never get an award.

I write to live, and I live to write.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Family Man

The paramedics and the firefighters peel through the charred wreckage
The driver died on impact, the coroner concludes, under no influence except his own
He drove down the wrong side of the highway
The police contact his next of kin
His wife is called to the station to identify the body
She holds back the tears as she nods yes
And then the dam collapses
She starts to sob
The man consoles her
She tells him they have four young children at home
He says that he will drive her home if she needs
She nods and says yes
She needs help explaining what happened to her children

It's past 5 o'clock
His colleagues have all left for the day
His hands are resting on the top of his head
He is looking at a family portrait, tears streaming down his face
He is saying a silent prayer to God, something he hadn't believed in until now
He wants his children to be alright, he wants his wife to move on
Because he's been dead inside for quite sometime now
He felt nothing when his child was born, and he looked into the sobbing infant's eyes, and that is when he knew
He knew that he couldn't get better
He finishes his prayers
He stands up, puts on his coat, and grabs his briefcase
He says good night to the security guard
He walks to the parking garage
He walks to his car
He starts to silently sob
His hands start shaking
He drops his keys
He picks them up, and unlocks the car
He throws his briefcase into the backseat haphazardly
He undoes his tie and takes off his coat
He puts the keys into the ignition
He checks the mirrors, buckles his seat, and leaves the garage
He glances at the rear view mirror
He knows there is no going back
He's doing this for them

Sunday, June 26, 2011


If home is where the heart is, I’m never leaving.
I’ve been here so long, but it seems that I’ve just arrived.
I hope you aren’t objecting to my stay.
A secluded spot in the mountains, where I am all alone;
attaining nirvana.

Today was a day like any other;
alone in my pity.
Today was a day unlike any other;
I found where my heart was kept.

In a chest like that of Davy Jones’;
You have kept it, safely, caring for it tenderly.

Friday, June 24, 2011


They say absence makes the heart grow fonder; if only they knew how true it is
The chats, the talks, the constant reminder that someone cares

I think my heart is too tired to care; I think my brain is too tired to think
I just want to let you know, I miss the creative way you think

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Forms of Silence

This is what you want
All communication severed
Can’t fucking stand me
Well bitch I can’t even stomach you

My heart’s been stomped on, chewed up, spit out
You know the pain I’m in, worse than fucking gout
Always there, never letting up
When there’s a toast to my suffering, you raise your cup

You make me sick
You’re a fucking prick
And I can’t take your high-pitched whine
Cuz without you I’m doing just fine

Don’t you dare try to oppress me
Stop trying to take all my fucking land- Cheyenne
If you wanna go, bitch watch out, its Custer’s Last Stand
If I go down, I’m bringing you down with me

No and I’m not feeling bad
And no you’re not making me mad
I’m just astounded by your stupidity
I need to make sure this isn’t a dream- total lucidity
Goddamn you’re greedy, total cupidity
Want all of my cash money

Bitch you want to fight?
Get at me, I got the might
To beat you down and take you out
No point- you’re just going to stomp and pout

All I do is win
If you want me to lose, make going HAM a sin
Get off your ass and do somethin
Stop wishing on that goddamn airplane
Or else I’ll shoot it down with no hands

Just try and stop me now bitch
Lyrical madness ensnares your mind
Good luck with your life
Don’t let the door hit you on the way out

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Things I have complete and total control over

1. That the dishes are dirty after going through the dishwasher. I'm super sorry about that, because it's definitely me scrunched up in there doing the dishes. Maybe it's time to buy a new one?
2. That I sleep in the nude sometimes. Okay, I mean, this is pretty graphic, and I'm sure most of you are probably throwing up, but for those fantastic/fucking weird people who stuck it through, I should definitely wear clothes when it's 80 degrees in my room with two fans going on max, and the window open. Yeah, lemme text the Heat Miser and ask him to tone it down.
3. That it's hot out. Again, I'll text the Heat Miser. Maybe until he responds, we can get some central air or something.
4. That I'm fat and I eat a lot. Okay, half-sincere apology, because being fat isn't cool, I know, but dammit, it's kinda hard to go to the gym when you're paranoid about what people think about you (dammit vanity). P.S. I have a large stomach, so I'm hungry. A lot.
5. That I don't have my license. I'll get either you or mom to take me driving on the highway or somewhere to practice parallel parking. Oh wait. You guys won't take me.
6. That no place will hire me. Because the economy isn't in the shitter, and places hire fat male teenagers.
7. That I get moody. Fuck off. (See what I did there?)
8. That I can't be trusted. Sorry. I have to go snort crack lines off of some slut's ass. Also shoot up heroin. And drink. And fuck shit up. And cause trouble for the local establishment.


Sunday, June 19, 2011

Twenty Three Freestyle Link

So I turned the Twenty-Three Freestyle Lyrics into a reality. Here is my first attempt at rapping of any sort, and freestyle rapping specifically. The lyrics have been tweaked, and this is a work in progress.


Alright, here it goes--

My name’s Tim and here’s my story:
It’s not one of valor, nor one of glory
Diagnosed with depression at the age of nine
Ever since I’ve been wearing a mask that says “I’m fine”

But I’m not,
life is a bitch
And I can never seem to find my niche
I’m always floating around from place to place
Waiting until someone saves me with loving grace

I wanted to hang myself at the age of eleven
I couldn’t do it, I wanted heaven
Fast-forward six years and I can’t shake the habit
I can’t explain how bad it hurts, like someone stabbed it
But there is one thing that is for sure, listen up now
I haven’t experienced life yet, I’m not taking my final bow

I got so much to live for
Here’s some things that I need to do
I haven’t gone on a European tour
And I haven’t been kissed
If I end it all now
I’ll never know what I missed.

Seems like I’m going upstream without a paddle
I’m pretty heavy, and not that agile
And underneath this calm exterior
There’s a soul that’s hurt and feels inferior

And it’s not just me
My friends have thought of it too
One went as far as to kill himself
And I can’t put his memory on the shelf

And this is all I have to say
Remember you can talk to someone round the clock, every day
There is no way to get help if you stay immobilized
People love you, let’s get that message mobilized.

Thank you for listening
To what I have to say
You can call a hotline if you want to die
But trust me, it gets better, so just sigh

Friday, June 17, 2011


Her eyes are like the sun
Always warming, sometimes harsh
They smile upon me always
As we stare into each other's eyes every morning, I see the promise of a brand new day
Every night, as we doze off to sleep, I see the sun set
I reflect upon the joy she has brought me, as I fall asleep in an everloving gaze

Saturday, June 11, 2011


Sometimes I just want to jump from this balcony
Just to see if I feel anything
Because feeling nothing hurts a lot more than pain
Dying could only save me from this pain

When you tell me you're sorry, I ask what for
It's all my fault
When I'm in a drunken stupor because of all this alcohol I'm consuming,
I tell you I'm doing great
Because you told me everything is going great
And I can't ruin that for you
I am a selfish bastard

I can't fly away
My wings have been clipped
The anguish I'm feeling inside is worse than any gunshot or stab wound

I see happy people
I ask "Why not me?"
I see people genuinely enjoying life
I ask "Why not me?"
I see people dying
I ask "Why not me?"

Call it what you'd like
Survivor's guilt, self-pity, or the feelings of an unworthy sub-human piece of shit
I call it life

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

I feel the sand in between the toes
I am greeted with the water that sustained my ancestors
I inhale deeply- salty air fills my lungs
I am home

On the road

Looks like I'm going to have to post this from an HTML standpoint...

I am indeed on the road, typing this from my father's iPad. The GPS says only an hour and 43 minutes until Arlington, VA. Let's hope so.

I will post sparingly as I will be on the beach, talking to girls, and many other uncharacteristic things. (if only)

Monday, June 6, 2011

Why I Write

I've always been living in the shadow of my family, whether it be my mom, dad, brother, or even younger sister. The only firsts in our family that I have done is to be the first to be diagnosed with ADHD and severe depression in the 3rd grade, the first to fail math, the first to fail science, and the first to be committed.

I come from a jumbled up family. Both sides of my parent's families have struggled with addiction, and as a result, I have too. Both sides have had depression, as have I. Both sides are extremely intelligent, creative, and booksmart. I can't be diagnosed with any of those things, so I can't really speak on them being passed down to me.

I am not strong. I am not athletic. I am not skinny. I am not hardworking. I am clingy. I am extremely open with my feelings. I am a hopeless romantic. I am an idealist. I wish my life was directed by John Hughes, so I could get the girl in the end, no matter how socially awkward I am.

I can't get into a prestigious Liberal Arts college with a $45,000 scholarship for academics. I can't pay for college by myself, finishing a four-year degree in three years, all while working two part-time jobs, and an internship. I can't run a PR firm from my home while taking care of a newborn son. I can't fight addiction. I can't have fun without trying. I need to take my medicine in order for people to like me.

This is why I write. To express how I want life to be. To convey my feelings without getting tongue-tied. To prove to my family that I am as good as they are, if not better.

I write to live, and I live to write.

Unknown strength

Everyday is a struggle
I'm jumping these hurdles life throws at me
But I'll never know why
God keeps on taunting, he seems incredibly cruel

But I know he's not
He gave me friends
He gave me life
He gave me laughter

A sandwich on a crappy day
An "I love you" when I just want to throw it all away
I can't believe how incredibly blessed
Yet I can't seem to shake it

No matter how hard I want to cut
Overdose, or drink away my pain
I can't because these people care
These people I can call my friends

Twenty Three Freestyle

Alright, here it goes:

Name’s Tim and here’s my story:
It’s not one of valor, nor one of glory
Diagnosed with depression at the age of nine
Ever since I’ve been wearing a mask that says “I’m fine”

But I’m not, life is a bitch
And I can never find my niche
I’m always floating around from place to place
Waiting until someone saves me with loving grace

I wanted to hang myself at the age of eleven
I couldn’t bring myself to do it, I wanted heaven
No matter how bad the pain is now
But I haven’t experienced life yet, I’m not taking my final bow

I got so much to live for
I haven’t been to Europe
I haven’t been kissed
If I end it all now, I’ll never know what I missed.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

A love poem for no one

Galaxies, cosmos, suns, moons, and stars
Nothing can separate us
My love for you burns brightly
Much like a sun

The ever widening sky
The vast grasslands that go on forever
The bottomless oceans
The skyscraping mountains
My love for you dwarfs all

The harshest winters
The hottest summers
The torrential downpours
I will endure all for you

The sinkhole that swallows me whole
I will keep digging, fighting, dreaming
To hold you

Think Locally, Fuck Globally

Friday, June 3, 2011

The Silence is Deafening

The things I would go back and change
The mistakes I have made, the things that have been said
I am my own person, I don’t need anyone to take care of me
Just someone to lean on in times of need

Why then, am I never standing straight?
I am always leaning, slouching, veering off the path
I try my hardest, yet it is never enough
I test your patience

I put on a mask
I hide my regret
Of what I have done
I hide my fear

This is it
I am letting go
I can’t do this anymore
The silence is deafening

Thursday, June 2, 2011


The kids on the street are growing wild and crazy

Throwing bricks in store windows and taking what they see

The media and priests proclaim:

The youth is revolting

The teachers try to reason with the kids

They are taken hostage

They too realize

The youth is revolting

Their parents are powerless

They have enabled the kids for their entire lives

Teaching them methods of cruelty and hatred

The youth is revolting

The psychologists and therapists label the revolt

As the kids trying to find themselves

Soon, they too realize that

The youth are revolting


On the days I feel like quitting life the most
Feel broken down and hopeless
I need to escape from the coast
I have to run away from this mess

Run away from the pressures of the world
I want to be with you
I put my feelings out unfurled
I want to feel brand new

Your reaction is what I should have expected
All I get is an awkward response
Your heart to love I selected
Now I have to act with nonchalance

On the days I don’t want to make the hairpin bends
Something keeps me turning
The support of my friends
Keeping the fire in my heart burning

American Nightmare

On the outside it may seem
That every kid in America is fine.
But on the inside they scream
“When will the dream finally be mine?”

Stressed to the point
They cannot deal with their situation
They try to roll their joint
Is this normal for our nation?

Sadly, it is not rare
in this land
for there to be haze in the air.
How much longer can our country stand?

Is this what we fought for?
A cause that was so noble
it shook our ancestors to the core
A once moving cause that has rendered us immobile

The American Dream has become
A scary thought that fills a child with despair.
One day soon we will succumb
to the American Nightmare.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011


The purest soul in the universe can shine brighter than the sun;

but can still be swallowed by the blackness

The strongest soul can bear a load meant for an entire generation;

but can still be shattered by the abandonment of his family

The strongest man can lift ten times his weight;
but can lose his strength to sickness

The youngest child can brighten a room with laughter;
but the only reason he does so is so someone will pay attention

The eldest person can deal with a deteriorating mind;
but can’t deal with the death of a loved one

To weather this universe;
You have to be strong. You have to wear 2000 faces at once.


Elated, I skate on this frozen pool of happiness you have created for me.

I am as happy as a man can be.
You have changed my life as profoundly as anything:
spiritual experience or event

The hazards of love have no effect on me.
You and only you have set me free

I almost feel infinite, the only thing keeping me is this physical body.

Transcending light, traveling the cosmos, aimlessly wandering eternity.

The only way I could be happier is if you were there with me. A feat not impossible, but right now, of no consequence to me.
Today, I am free.
Today, I am infinite.