Author: Jeremy

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Look at how young you look…


My mom has been cataloging all of the family photos recently. I looked through the photos that she had piled into white plastic boxes. I came to the pile of photos in the box marked “Jeremy.” Flipping through each one- none of them were the same size. A school photo here, a Polaroid of a Superman cake there. I dismissed the rest of my family’s memories to reflect on mine. My brain is such an odd duck. It remembers such random things… I didn’t remember what I did a week ago, but I remembered my first “Fisher Price Magic Show.”

I was so young once… unsure and naive. Birthdays, baby pictures of me posing in a diaper… me dressed in the most ridiculous clothes. I saw my mom when I was nothing but a drooling infant. Young and unsure. Being in charge of another human life. Having the best of hopes for her son. That she’d raise him right. That he’d be an upright citizen. All sorts of hope in her eyes. We were all young once.

I look at myself now, and I wonder what happened to me. The youth is fading out of my eyes. My hair is starting to gray. I don’t get up at 7 on Saturday morning to watch cartoons. Candy doesn’t taste like it once did. I find myself complaining about the youth of today, and how things were “better when I was a kid.” I AM becoming that thing that we all said we wouldn’t become: old.

But every so often, I walk down the toy aisle. I buy candy. I watch cartoons on Saturday morning. I search for those things that made me a kid. I seek out that inner bliss of uncertainty and naivety. Age is creeping up on all of us. I’d like to remember the days behind me as I trudge forward to meet the days ahead.

J.

Categories
poems poetry

untitled.

Banana boxes
filled with books
and journals
sit outside the door

Garbage bags
stretched thin
with clothes
and twisted hangers

Dusty frames
off of the wall
in a twisted tower
they lay

Ready for the jump
divots in the carpet
holes in the walls
empty closets

It will all make sense
soon
even if it’s confusing
and new

They cry for their life
they smile for the new
they hold hands
and journey ahead.

Categories
poems poetry

untitled.

Banana boxes
filled with books
and journals
sit outside the door

Garbage bags
stretched thin
with clothes
and twisted hangers

Dusty frames
off of the wall
in a twisted tower
they lay

Ready for the jump
divots in the carpet
holes in the walls
empty closets

It will all make sense
soon
even if it’s confusing
and new

They cry for their life
they smile for the new
they hold hands
and journey ahead.

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Uncategorized

I read a book!

I bought ‘Me Talk Pretty One Day’ by David Sedaris on the advice of a Barnes and Noble employee. I never talked to this person, but their name was Robin and it was one of her Picks of the Week. I pictured Robin walking the shelves and plucking this book from the shelf and embracing it. Reading it from cover to cover during her lunch break, raising an eyebrow and giving a succinct impromptu review.

I could see the other names of employees that had chosen books… their names attached to philosophy books (Enid), photography of still life (Stanley), and a manual about grooming your poodle (Martha). All lofty goals as far as I was concerned, and I’d not be bothered by taking pictures of dead squirrels or of the correct way of tying pink bows on ears.

I’d hoped that the books would fit the person. The poodle book was selected by an older woman that worked there part time, and loved her little yippy mess to the point you would like to strangle them both. The still life book was by a guy that thought himself to be the next big thing, and that his selection was his contribution to enlighten the world. I would have liked to meet these people and ask them why they chose that particular book.
If they were anything like me, they would have closed their eyes and spun around in a circle, finger outstretched, until they got dizzy and their finger pointed to a random book. Also, were they like me, they picked the book and then not read it. “Oh, there’s a great part where this guy… he’s standing around… with a shirt and… you know… hair? It’s hilarious.”
So 6 months later I finally finished the book. If attention spans were real estate, I’d have an empty lot. Midway through reading it, I bought another David Sedaris book. ‘Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim’ was my motivation to finish the first book. ‘Me Talk Pretty One Day’ was a great read. Sedaris is always the one to get noticed doing things everyone else gets away with. His cynicism is equal to mine, with a lingered sense of compassion. Sedaris’ family is unmatched in oddity and personality. A great, easy read. It only took me 6 months.
I’m halfway through ‘Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim’, and it only took me 3 days.
J.
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blog

Bluetooth. New Page.

I was one of those that would profess to never purchase a Bluetooth for my phone. “I don’t want to be THAT guy that walks around with a tiny thing attached his ear- talking to himself in thin air and ignoring everyone around me.” Yet, here I am at the computer with a dark blue, shiny, blue LED flashing piece of splendid gadgetry glued to my ear. It’s convenient and small. It works with my media player. I can voice dial by pressing one button. I am sure that later, when I am used to it, I will walk out the door without my phone. My brain will register that I can do all of this from my Bluetooth, so why the hell do I need my phone?
 
I am always one to embrace technology, gadgets, the newest, latest, greatest of almost any field of consumer toys. But, I do wait for a certain time until the bugs have been worked out, the updates have been shipped in the next release, and I can get this new hotness for a reasonable price. But Bluetooth… I was an old man in a rocking chair. “It’ll never catch on… just like rock & roll and penicillin. When I was a kid, we had to dial phones by pushing buttons! We used a remote control to surf through the 500 channels on OUR 37″ plasma monitors!”
 
Again, here I am with this thing in my ear. Enjoying the freedom of no wires. I would spend ample time shredding wires, 2.5″ and 3.5″ connections to make a phone call with my headset. It has made me embrace the Bluetooth. (Bluetooth… named after a king, Harald Bluetooth King of Denmark and Norway.) I soon realized that I could use it for many things. For the PC, for my iPod… all sorts of patiently acquired electronics. So why not have a device that is multipurpose? It was a solid decision based on facts and much furrowing of the brow.
 
All in all, a wise decision.
Categories
poems poetry

her.

radiant wit
unbridled lust
amazing humor
glowing beauty.
her.

she cries every day
she can’t sleep
her anger and pain
is heard through
the distances.

he listens
and cries for her
his heart sinks
and melts
in the same breath.

they close
their eyes and
listen
hope
wish.

she keeps him
steady
every day
radiant
and beautiful.

soon the days
and nights will
be complete
as it should
always have been.

the tears end
and the smiles
are bigger
and the hearts
know
what they needed.

j-

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This might turn into a habit.

My daily Wikipedia browsing took me to the ‘Comics’ portal. I read ‘Blankets’ a long while back, and noticed it listed among the graphic novels. I read that Craig Thompson had written it to put on paper the feeling of laying next to someone for the first time. I would agree with others in saying that he succeeded.

I thought of the first time I was in love… laying with someone. Hearing her heartbeat, feeling her chest rise and fall under my arm… contentment. I’d never even had sex with her. I put my head in her lap. She sang to me, ran her fingers through my hair, and just loved me. Then we laid there wrapped in each other’s arms. In the dark… whispering and sighing. We would lay like that a lot, and just talk about what we wanted out of life. Like Craig and Raina, we didn’t end up together. But I’ll never forget that first time we touched each other. I didn’t even know her last name, but she wanted to sing to me and run her fingers through my hair.

Of course, I’m sure it wasn’t as intimate and amazing as I’d like to remember. We were kids, and kids in love SWEAR that no one has ever loved like THEY have loved. No one understands their love, no one will ever write or sing or know the love they share. Their love is the alpha and the omega. But for the few months we were together it was the most intense- the apex of my romantic life. All I had to reference it to at that point was… well not much.

But I suppose that’s what teenage romance is all about.

j-
Categories
blog poetry

dot net.

grungyparadigm.net was easy to buy from godaddy.com. doing the whole dns setup and all that mess was easy too. although, i’d like to have a real honest site that i coded myself. but, i’m an unmotivated cheap sob who doesn’t want to pay to have a site hosted. so until i decide to crunch some code and do all that, here it is. the unofficial grungyparadigm.net. not that anyone ever looks here. bah. i have it on good authority that .net is cooler than .com… it’s dotnettastic.
grungy-
In a dirty, rundown, or inferior condition: grungy old jeans.

paradigm-
1. One that serves as a pattern or model.
2. A set or list of all the inflectional forms of a word or of one of its grammatical categories: the paradigm of an irregular verb.
3. A set of assumptions, concepts, values, and practices that constitutes a way of viewing reality for the community that shares them, especially in an intellectual discipline.

i drew a picture about 3 years ago that had a guy in a t-shirt that said “grungyparadigm” and it just stuck with me. i still don’t know where the hell it came from. it’s different and all that, so why not… right?


more poetry to come soon. maybe even some artwork for the nest… i sure have been promising to do that for a damn year.

i was also thinking about what i want to do with my site… if it should be a showcase of art/poetry/writing/rants but i don’t know for sure. those sure would be my bullet links though:

  • art
  • poetry
  • writing
  • rants
  • bah.
  • meh.
  • contact me!

j-

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wow. snow.

 
snow. i won’t discuss the snow. it’s there. it’s wet and white and cold. so very cold. i am sure there are a multitude of snow and winter blog entries that no one ever reads. so i won’t contribute to the wasted bandwidth. oh, but i sure have done just what i set out not to do. like stubbing your toe in the dark. you don’t intend on jamming your toe into the credenza, but you sure as hell do.
 
old men from other states up north will tell us texans stories that seemed to come from the worst survival movies.”oh, this is nothing. you should have seen it one year. snow up to my forehead. 20 people died in that blizzard. yup… i lost two toes from frostbite.”
 
as if we’ve never seen blackened toes and spinning tires. i’ve read the world weekly news, i know of such things.
 
by the time i came home it was all but melted… only around long enough for people to call in to work and make snowballs. but that is what we do, when given the gift of snow. especially when it is in texas. where the summer days are so hot they melt gi joes on the pavement.
 
texas is a state of constant flux. we have the sheer honor of being home to tornadoes, hurricanes, droughts, near tsunami proportion rainstorms, and the like. snow is almost never in this family of meteorological wonderment. but there we are- to the left.
 
it’s not even worth mentioning, really. it’s just snow.
 
j.