2 Slices

She's Not in the Plane

I used to play in the backyard with my sister. Ever time a plane would fly by, I'd look to the sky, point and tell her that it was my aunt watching. Flying by just to check on us. She had a great job in a big city, so she couldn't come around anymore. My sister would always tell me I was wrong, it wasn't her, and she was not in that plane. She would say that my aunt didnt care, and that's why she stopped coming around. At 7 years old I knew I was right, my aunt was in that plane, she desperatly wanted to see us, but something was holding her back. At 24, I know I was wrong, my sister was right, and my aunt had cheased to care.

No Connections

I'm working a party in midtown Manhattan. A little boy showed me his Star Wars toy. Darth Vadar, his favorite, is the voice of James Earl Jones. He then tells me his grandmother used to date James Earl Jones. She wanted to marry him and he said no. It just hit me, this 6 year old has more connections then I do. My life sucks.

No Longer Seated

You've always sat there in your silence
Unnerved
Unmoved
But we all know you're just unstable
Too thoughtful to live
Too concerned to breathe
Unbelievable
And silent
It's this sad calmness
And I'll never see myself that way
Alone in the coner
You told me I'm the one that doesn't know
You just don't know me
I'm more found then lost
I'm louder then quieter
And more vengenful then possible
I'm crafty and possesive
I'm all knowing and careless
Isn't that what makes you want me
You've always sat there in your silence
Waiting for the right moment to rise
Be heard and no longer simply seen
So it begins
So it begins

I'll Think About You, But I Won't Tell You

I'll Think About You, But I Won't Tell You

It's true. I'll have opinions and stories to always share, but when it comes down to it, I write a lot of things to get them out of my body. I write and share a lot of things to simply release them, but almost in a passive aggressive way. What would happen I wonder if the people I choose to write about actually knew that I was, or what they would think if I actually told them to their faces what I think about them. It wouldn't be nearly as interesting, I mean, I'd probably come off an insane, and I can do that anyways. Mostly I write for the moment and I can't imagine calling these people every time I had a different emotion and exploding on them. I would probably label myself clinical at that point as well. On the same card though, I know a few people read this blog that specific bits are about. One of them asks me about them and I love it. I love that he would even read the things that are about him and still want to talk to me or be a part of my life. Although if someone were writing so openly about me I'd want to read it. I can also say, I've never posted anything on here to hurt anyone, or directed negatively towards someone. Have I wrote pieces like that, yes. Multiple times. Recently I wrote a blog about the worst blow job I've ever gotten. One of my friends called me and told me how I should post the guys picture next to it and exploit everything about him. Obviously, this is nothing I would ever do, but the idea made me laugh. I have a dark sense of humor, so it makes sense.

This is getting off track and basically what I mean to say is that although putting my thoughts out there is a great release, I think telling the people I write about the same way I feel would be even better. But I never will. I am obsessed with how people see me. Not in the way that I want to be any particular thing to anyone, but more so that I love to see and hear how people perceive me. It is usually pretty far off base from how I see myself, I think that's normal though. No one else can obviously hear the dialogue in ones head as well as the person having it. So with that said, I heard this song Chasing Pavements by Adele the other day, and it reminded me of all these things. Spacifically the lyrics below.

"If i tell the world,
I'll never say enough,
Cause it was not said to you,
And thats exactly what i need to do."

New Blog, MeAndMySexBlog.com

In an effort to keep this blog separate from the new ideas I have, I have started a new one. And yes, it is all about sex. This blog will still be housing my poetry, pictures, paintings, blah blah. But feel free to check out the other as well.

All the best,
Thomas

http://www.MeAndMySexBlog.com

You Suck

You Suck

Disillusionment lead me to compelling understanding
It took me a few broken bones
And a couple empty waterfalls
A few inreconizable gestures
And it all falls down to this

You suck
It's true
You suck
And it must suck to be you
You suck
It's true
Fuck, it sucks just to know you

You've got these ever grabbing chains
And something about you kinetic
Gripping and crippling
Honestly, I'd like to bash your head in
I'd like to see you in pain
Just to know you can feel something more then for yourself
And it all falls down to this
Where you tumbled off the wall and broke your little crown

You suck
It's true
You suck
And it must suck to be you
You suck
It's true
Fuck, it sucks just to know you

I think I'd like to kill you
Half the time I'd like to fuck you
Half the time you don't exist
A quarter of the time I think you're insensative and have no soul
All the time
All the time i'm in love with you

You suck
It's true
You suck
And it must suck to be you
You suck
It's true
You suck
Fuck, it sucks to even know you.

4th Grade

I recently posted a poem where I say something along the lines of "we're in 4th grade". On the phone the other day my sister asked me if this was about my 4th grade teacher. I was actually just making a reference to acting young, I could have said anything like we 10 years old, we cry like babies, blah blah. BUT, the funny thing is, I HATE MY 4TH GRADE TEACHER. She was such a fucking cunt to me. And to be honest, I don't know why. She would belittle me and make fun of me in class. Not in a flat out in your face way, but more so condescendingly. It is rather funny because she was introduced to me through my mom and dad who have known her for years. In fact, I think my sisters may have actually had her as a teacher as well before me. I HATED 4TH GRADE. I HATED HER. AND EVENTUALLY SHE WILL HAVE HER OWN CHAPTER IN MY BOOK, AND SHE CAN SUCK IT!!

All the best,
Thomas

Moving

Over the course of the last 5 and a half years I have lived in a ton of places in NYC. Some good, some bad, and now, alone.

Lexington and 23rd.

I was going to SVA at the time, sophomore year, and I had just broken up with my ex of a few years. It was my first time living alone, if you could call it that. I essentially lived in an 8x6 room with a bathroom and go kitchen. It was a dorm room style place, but dorms in NYC are unlike anywhere else in the us. People don't leave their doors open, there are no parties and everyone thinks they are an artist that is just to deep to breathe. Give me a fucking break. I hated that school, but I also meet some awesome people. Verena as there for me during my break up as I cried and essentially went through it for a couple months. The Philanthropy Girl was three for me during school, classes, Mexican Mondays, and all our ridiculous films. The apartment was gross, overpriced, had roaches and a plastic mattress. At the time, I loved it.

Long island city

After Lexington I moves to long island city for a brief time, maybe 3 months. I moved into a photographers loft and saved up for an apartment. I was working at David Barton gym selling gym memberships and hating every moment of it. I eventually got let go and got a job at Foodbar. The photographer and I ended up fighting a lot, turned into a weird situation and eventually I moves out, to jersey city...

Jersey city

You know what, I'm bored with just writing this post. I can't imagine anyone would want to read it. Honestly, there is no huge pay off with this. I don't get my heart broken, chlamydia, aids, I don't beat anyone up and eventually I move into my own one bedroom in hell's kitchen. That's where I live now, love it.

The end.