Reconstruction

Ok, well, it starts out with me sitting on curb in Ohio, the University of, Athens to be exact and I'm drinking a can of Coors, or at least he tells me its Coors. Ohio University, its a nice place, good college town, and friendly, different, if that makes sense, but nice. It's in the hills of southern Ohio and its cool there, even in the summer, and the air is fresh. Its hallmark is that it's one of the biggest party schools around, top two, my friend tells me, and I tell him to show me that in writing.
Well, I'm sitting on the curb drinking Coors, or at least thats what he tells me because its actually in a Keystone can and he says that Keystones are just Coors with dents in the cans and the dent makes it taste different. I don't believe him, so I tell him to show me where he found that information. It dosn't taste like Coors, but I drink it anyways. I'm wearing shorts and a polo and I'm a little cold because its a little cool and the sun is setting and there is a breeze between the hills that surround the school. I'm smoking a ciggarette thats been burning for a while, even so I just smoked one and the last one made my mouth taste like New York City after the planes hit the towers on Sept. 11- smoked out. The sky is orange, still a little blue in the east. A few minutes ago I met Jessica. She knows me from the last time I was up here, I was drunk, blackout like the rolling brown-outs in So Cal, and she had tried to talk to me and I think has bumped me and I had spilled my drink all over some guy and I wanted to fight the fucker because he made a big deal about it but my friend had dragged me, litterally, out of the party. She followed us back. I think she ended up hooking up with my friend, can't remember, I was drunk.
Jessica was a good looking girl, blonde and figured well. And she sat next to me on the curb. We talked. I smoked. And she smoked after I offered her one and she said she's trying to quit because she was a chain smoker and I agreed that it would be a good idea if she did and she smiled and invited us to her apartment, later on that night, and left. My friend said she liked me because he knew how she worked because she had got with some of his friends and that we should go to her apartment tonight because I needed something to remember this trip to Ohio University. I hate my friend's judgement. I told him I wasn't up here for the parties or the girls, but to see him. Period. And she had too much make-up on. And is/was a chain smoker. And, sober, I could tell I didn't like her personality and for me, these days, after going out with a string of "socially" good looking, yet totally stupid girls, personality was my biggest turn on.
Maybe some day he'll understand.
Anyways, I have someone else on my mind when he finds some article in a newspaper that says OU is #2 party school and I only half read it and the next one which points out about dented Coors because now, like i said I have someone else on my mind.
I flip through the newspaper and see an advertisment for the movie 'Garden State' and remember that Natalie Portman in that movie really reminds me of who I'm thinking about and I smile, or grin, and my friend grins because he thinks I'm reading the article about the #2 party school that OU seems to be and he is very proud of that.
Thoughts of her get me through the days, I've concluded. They're nice thoughts.
We went to some party that night and some girl wanted to take her top off for my friend and I could care less to see exposed skin, so said leave it on, and that didn't go over well with my friend. Sorry, buddy. He said "Fuck this new Chris Miles", because he thinks I've changed and I think I'll have to agree, for now anyways.
Fuck this new Chris Miles. No, that dosn't sound right.
When I was driving home I realized that I hadn't even got into a fight up there, though there were ample oppertunities.
Damn, what if I'm turning into a pussy.
Damn the reconstruction of Chris Miles.
No, I don't mean that. I like the state I'm in, the thoughts and everything, if that makes sense. If it dosn't then maybe you'll understand one day, like my friend.
On the drive home I chewed gun because I had smoked and my mouth tasted like it but the gum, though very sharp and, dare I say "spicy", reconstructed the normal taste of spit in my mouth. i thought about New York. Thats were we had our first conversation. New York City. After the fall of the towers.
Its nice to think they're rebuilding them again.
I don't like things broken, laying in ruin.

Run, run

I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In a lifetime

And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
Only for sure

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear, my voice
I'll be right beside you, dear

Louder, Louder
And we'll run for out lives
I can hardly speak or understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

To think I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbye
I nearly do

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear, my voice
I'll be right beside you, dear

Louder, louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak or understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

Slower, slower
We don't have time for that
All I want's to find an easier
To get out of our little hate

Have heart, my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just a few days
Making up for all this mess
~Snow Patrol

Thanks

"Don't worry. We had a safe trip. Sorry about the phone calls. We got a little drunk. And felt like calling. Both of us. At two in the morning. Yeah, sorry. But we made it back safe. And had a good time. Wish you were there. It was fun. And thanks for the concern.
really.
I apperciate it. And you. And everything you've done. And I'll tell my mom that you said thank you. She'll be happy you like it."

An Dir

Ich denk nicht das dass des ende ist.
Vielleicht hat es heir begonnen.
Vielleicht hat es damit angefangen.
Ich hoffe es hat nur angefangen.
Weil ich dich wieder sehen weil.
Weil ich dich wieder sehen muss.
Warum ist es zo?
Du.
Ich denke an dir immer zo.
Meistens wenn es so dunkle drausen ist das mann schlaffen will.

The times you go to church

There are times in your life when a quiet building roofed by a steeple and adorned by crosses is the only place you want to be.
Now, I'm not really a church going man. Can't find the time.
Or at least thats what I tell myself.
So it was a different environment for me right off the bat.
A large church.
Thats where we sat.
Side by side in a pew.
"God, I'm afraid." I said it like a prayer.
He was quiet.
Then his voice came alive and it was broken and ripping.
"Yeah. Me too."
The next thing I wanted to say was how things could have ever come to the state we were in.
"She wants to commit suicide..."
"Is that a question?" I asked.
"No. I just wanted to say it out loud."
Yes.
Its so weird.
Say suicide out loud about someone you know.
And mean it.
"Holy shit."
Yeah.
This was serious shit.
The night before she had shown me the scars and the cuts on her wrists. She said she was afraid. She said that she couldn't even feel it. She said she wanted to feel again. "Help me feel again," she said and she came close and she went in to kiss me and I moved away and she wasn't derailed and remained close and I didn't know what to do so I took a drag of my smoke and blew into the cold night. "I really like you," she said. I didn't care. I wanted to get the fuck out of there and fast. She grabed my arm and pulled herself in and wrapped herself against me. "Your my best friend's sister." I said, and hoped the period would stand out. It didn't. "Come up stairs with me," she said. I took another drag and planned my escape. But how could I leave, how could I leave her in the state she was in?
The wind blew cold and I sucked it in and made it breeze through my heart and it gave me power.
I began to walk away.
She followed.
I made a promise to help her.
Hopefully she would live to see another day.
Then I could help.
But not now, not like this.
"Do you understand?"
I spoke to her in the cold night, and now I was telling it to him.
I broke me up to have see her like that, in the state she was in.
I sat in the pew and all I could do was be angry. At alot of things. At alot of people. At myself.
"Jesus." He cursed, or prayed. I didn't know.
Yeah, Jesus. He died on the cross so we could all be forgiven and live our lives happily.
So how the hell did this happen?
"What are we going to do?" He asked.
And I didn't have an answer.
How the hell should I know?
Hell, it wasn't even my problem. I could walk away from this shit and never look back.
Thats what I wanted to do.
But not what I needed to do.
"I don't know, man." And the two of us sat there.
A year has passed and we still don't know.
If it makes any difference, "I'm sorry".
"To both of you."
I just can't figure this one out.
Not smart enough.
And its easier to just walk away.
But I walked away knowing you two would find something.
Somewhere.
There are times in your life where church is the only place you want to be.
I'm sorry they exisit.
....

the state WE'RE in

Its August 22nd.
God, we've come a long way.
I say "we" because I'm usually not alone when I live my adventures or learn the mountain top mentor philosophies of life.
A lot can happen in a year. A lot of adventures, a few philosophies. Many lessons learned.
About a year ago the earth had opened up and the world had fallen in and I had had to claw my way from burning pits of hell.
Other things that come to mind are as followed and should be noted in history, seeing as I will forget:
1. Megan's fiasco
2. The start of the 505/ a place to vent
3. Drunken finals
4. Broken illusions on State St. and "The People"
5. The rise of 505
6. Reconstruction, as in after the armies march in and destroy the land
7. Spring Break, Part 2
8. Investigation into Chris Miles
9. Hope in May
10. Realizations in August
>>>I'm going to try and write more on each of these in the future. This is a trailer.

Do anything

"I walk into the room and shake off the water because the rain ouside is pouring down like an open dam.
'Damn,' he says, 'Its really coming down out there.'
'Yeah.' And I walk away and through the crowd of fifty or so people I never want to see again in my life.
The house is packed with people but still cold--or maybe I'm just wet because the girl to my left has her top off.
I walk into the kitchen and there seems to be a VIP crowd gathered around the keg, all who have their shirt collars popped up, hair greased back, shoes a sparkling black. They have a pissed off look as I invade into their hallowed area. But what are they going to say? The look on my face is meaner, I know it. They don't say a word.
I walk further in.
'Hey man you want a hit?' One of the boys say holding up a lit torch of a joint.
I usually pass on grass.
But this seems to be a formal way of not getting on these guys worse side.
And its been a bad day.
'Where's *****?' I ask.
'Up stairs. With his girl friend.'
'You live here?'
The guy nods.
'Could you tell him ***** is here.'
I've been waiting a long time for this. And I'm not a patient man.
It takes a while but ***** finally comes down from up stairs with his shirt off and no shoes and hands me my envelope.
'Took you long enough'
By that time I had become buddy-buddy with half the fucks in the kitchen and smoked just as much of the joint.
I smiled.
Left. "
"Thats why you're late?" She asks.
He holds up the envelope, "For this, yeah."
"You know its been raining?"
He says: "But it's just starting to be a nice night."
I'm sitting on his patio chair, where we've been waiting for a half hour, because the door is locked.
He usually hates being late, usually dosn't keep people waiting.
Lately we've noticed he's done a lot of things that have pissed him off.
But, for a piece of mind, I think people are willing to deal with a few things they hate.

10:27 in the AM

Seventeen things pass through my head
Waking up in the morning.
All of which make me want to go back to bed.
Such a lovely morning.
Already 90 degrees and I'll be working all day outside.
I really don't want to move,
To get up and take a shower.
Don't want breakfeast
I really hate breakfeast.
My mind is twisted and tied
But I got to go to work
Actually, I'm hungary, I lied
Breakfeast quick and hardy,
The milk could have been colder
The seventeen things weigh on my shoulders.
I sigh,
The only thing getting me out of bed today
is the thought running through my head:
"Fuck it, I tried."

Cardboard cut-outs

"I wish it was a late day in May."
"Why? What's wrong with August?"
"Everything."
"Why?"
"In May it still feels like there's hope, you have summer to look forward to."
"Sit back down."
I had stood up and she was still laying on the deck chair sun bathing. I sat on the corner of my own.
"Whats that?"
"Don't know. Found it."
Between my fingers I twirled a cardboard cut-out of a skull and cross bones, which I had found laying around.

So we're eating ice cream and its at night and there is a full moon and She (I capitalize because its a different 'she') says, "The moon looks like a cardboard cut-out, like a prop from a set." And I look at it and think "No shit, she's right" but at the same time don't say anything.
"Movies are fun," she says later that night.
And I'm in the mood to see a movie because they always have so much adventure and my life is in lacking of that.

So a year later I'm on the phone and She's screaming into the reciever.
We've been talking for ten minutes and I've maybe contributed two sentences of material, excluding "Hello".
She tells me of a dream She has.
She's in front of the store, where She works, and a man is robbing it and he runs out and She dives for cover and he gets in a car and makes a break for it. Another car rolls by and there are two of her friends in it and they yell "Get in."
"So I jump in. And we start to chase the guy. And he has a gun. And he's shooting at us. I have a gun too and I'm shooting back. I get him twice, in the chest but he's still alive and right when I'm about to finish him off...."
"Yeah?"
"I wake up"
I didn't put a period in that last piece of dialouge because She keeps talking. I'm up to three sentences contributed to the conversation, excluding "hello".

So I'm sitting on the deck chair and talking to her... not the her of the dream, a different her... and i've contributed about 75% of the entire conversation becuse this 'her' is a psychology major and asks you how your life is going and waits for a response and right now my life sucks, so I'm talking.
"There's something missing...."
"Where?"
"I think I need some more adventure in my life."
"Who dosn't?"
"Movie stars."
And I get up.
I think as I walk.
....

I miss cardboard cut-out nights.
I hate when I'm the one monopolizing the conversation.
....

It's hot out and I've been working all morning and don't feel like laying out. I leave feeling wasted and notice that I'm still holding the cardboard but its all bent up and "why the hell am I toying with this anyways"? I throw the skull and cross bones away as I pass a trash can.