"But we decide which is right, and which is an illusion..."

Well, the last few days have been rough for me, some of the pain self-inflicted. But the community is reeling from the loss of Adrian Wilson, who passed away a week ago. I don't know how good I would be at a tribute to Adrian, so I won't try. He was a great kid, heart of gold, and he is going to be missed tremendously. Please pray for his family and his friends, especially Frank Eanes.

I wrote a poem about time and leaves and love. You know this can't be good. But it's the only decent poem I've written in a month, so forgive me for how Robert Frost the themes are.


daily calendar

the tear-off sheets fall like leaves
leaves that can't come soon enough
leaves that will be too late to save us
leaves that are already too late to save us


I am heading to Nicaragua on Monday with my mom for a fellowship trip for church. My brother and sister are already down there for an immersion program. Maybe a week and half in a country where many have nothing will change my life-view, even a little bit.

Maybe that's all I need to snap out of this funk. A fresh look.

"He was bored and tired of my laments..."

Brand New sucks.

I really hate the boring cookie-cutter style of rock that they play. They are a high school garage band that made it without any real reason, or true inkling of talent. It's the worst kind of music, where it's bad, and they don't appear to care because they are laughing about their four bland, artless chords all the way to the bank. Mike told me that they had a new album out that was amazing. But Mike couldn't be trusted with something like this... he liked them when they were terrible!

It was my first day back in my apartment in over a month. Mike and I were burning incense and working on a puzzle of the Civil War, piecing together our fine country's history with Sia playing in the background. When her album ended, Mike put on something else.

It was dark, heavier... it fit how I felt to a T. The last time I was in the apartment, I was in a ball, in nothing but boxers, shivering and sobbing with no tears coming out of my eyes. Though I could see, in my mind was where my reality existed, far more real than the floor of my apartment or Duke or later Mike and my mom talking to me. In my reality where I watched myself die, again and again. I couldn't figure it out... I knew I had so much to live for. I have people who love me, friends all around, a good life. And yet my prison was showing these things to me and I couldn't escape. They didn't go away for days, waking or sleeping. They were there as my pastor and mom drove me home, at the hospital, at the ultimate tournament I played in despite my condition, as I threw up on my empty stomach. I never did want to kill myself, understand. It's just that that's what consumed me. It's not all that I thought about. It's what I lived for three days. And now this Zoloft was numbing me up to the world. A few days after the puzzle, I would park on the sofa and sit. And think about nothing. And care about nothing. And listen to Pink Floyd. I would stay there for a month.

But right then, the Zoloft hadn't gotten me all the way. And this album was playing, each song better than the last. Finally we got the the fifth song on the album. It started soft, slow, hazy. Then, almost two minutes, there is a drum fill, and the track is suddenly coated in guitars, dissonant and distorted, with the singer's untamed voice, moments before soft, now in agony.

Then just as suddenly and only half a minute later, the song shifts back into gear, lead in by four words from the vocals and the guitars suddenly falling into order, the words soaring.

I set down my puzzle piece.

"Your beauty is supreme.
Yeah, you were right about me.
But can I get myself out from underneath
this guilt that will crush me?
And in the choir I saw our sad Messiah.
He was bored and tired of my laments,
said, 'I died for you one time,
but never again.'
Never again.
Never again."

I sat down, stunned by this song, this powerful music. The song went back to the beginning's soft, dark contemplations, repeating and building, and building... as I sat, the second wave of the song reached it's peak, and somehow stayed there, riding on those wild guitars once again. Finally it hit the shoreline, not so much breaking as getting dispersed by the beach.

I didn't cry. I hadn't cried in weeks. But there it was. The song that caught the moment of being back to my private house of horrors. Beautiful and terrible.

"Who is this?" I asked Mike.
"Oh, it's Brand New's latest album," he said, smiling back at me and popping a puzzle piece into it's spot.

I later found out that "Limousine" is about a girl and a limo driver who were killed by a drunk driver, a tragic story (found here, here and here). But for me it was the song that made me feel something one last time before the drugs swept my emotions away for a while.

Music (and real music, not just songs), has a way of sticking with me, of making sense of things I cannot. There aren't words for everything.

But Brand New... they aren't so bad.

"the tolls i take r running me out"

I'm not sure what that drunk text message that is my title meant in the first place, but I think I agree with it. Here's a new poem. As always critiques are welcome.


The Confessions of a Yard Sale

They may tell you that they are moving soon
and there's simply no room
for that nice, near-new loveseat
in their place in the city.

But that's where Gary the Guinea Pig
got stuck and starved last spring,
and they just can't stand
how much Gary stinks on a hot day.

(They aren't moving at all.)
You can have the loveseat for $50.


If you are a reader of this blog still in Towson, Grub Street (Towson University's literary magazine) is out now, with my poem "Classroom Map" published in it. You can find it almost anywhere on campus, or so I hear. The whole magazine is really really good. My favorite poem is about zombies who wish they could be more normal, but aren't sorry for eating our brains. I don't know why...

There's something so amazing about having your name in print alongside something that you are proud of. I'm not a great writer, but I'm pretty good and I enjoy it. And I know I have heard something about a blind squirrel before...

I'm moving to Grantham close to permanently starting in the next week or two. This is an exciting time!

Love to you all,
Charlie

You're so vain. You probably think this life decision is about you.

Well, this is either big news for you, or a formality. So either brace yourself, or lean back and chill. Maybe just skip this post and listen to some music (may I suggest some from the column to the left?).

I'm dropping out of Towson. I'm moving to the Grantham/Harrisburg area (I'm looking at a few living situations, depending on the availability of a car), working full time, maybe taking a class or two at community college, and not doing school for a while.

I have made this decision over the course of the whole semester, so don't you leave me any comments asking me to reconsider. And yes, my parents know, and because they are the most kickass, understanding, patient and chill parents ever, they are not only okay with this, but supportive of this.

Here's my reasoning:

I am a smart, motivated, talented individual. I'm starting to hit the prime of my life. However, the things that interest me, that motivate me, that show my talents... those are not necessarily the same things that I am being asked to do in a university. I am very interested in history, for example. It is still my goal to be a high school history teacher. And I love reading about history, listening to lectures on history, all of that. What I don't like is writing papers on history. They won't matter to anyone. Not to me, not to my professors, not to my future students. They are just part of the system. I have to write these papers to become a teacher.

But I would rather write one hundred poems than one 3 page paper right now. I cannot bring myself to do it. I won't do it, in fact. And I haven't done it. So I'm failing again, and as I look around, all of these people who are not smarter than me are getting As and Bs. My self esteem is slowly getting wiped clean, just as I am rebuilding it.

The other problem is Baltimore. This place has actually grown on me as a city, and a place to live. It is, however, frustrating how hard it is to develop friendships here. This has never once been a problem for me before in my life. I could probably write for hours and hours on my problems with Baltimore, and my thoughts on how this happened, but the bottom line is that this is not the place to try to get back on my feet. The only place I feel safe and at home in this city is with Mike and Duke at my apartment. And it's just not enough. Leaving Mike and this apartment that is my home is my sole regret about leaving Baltimore.

Why the Messiah College area? That's easy. I'm 100% safe there. I'm surrounded by good friends... no, great friends. The area is as home to me as my home in Frederick, Maryland, maybe more. I feel at peace near those creeks and rivers and fields and mountains. The air feels cleaner. It's not perfect. But it's what I need. And sure, a few immediate opportunities that have sprung up (which I am trying to not get my hopes toooooo high about, and so will not mention them) which clinched central PA as my new home, and there's a good chance that none of them will work out. And even if none of them do, I feel at peace with my decision.

Just as there was a downside with leaving Baltimore, so there is for returning to the Messiah area. It's usually the first thing that people ask me about after, "did you think this out?" (Seriously, don't ask me if I thought it out guys. Yes. I did think it out.) And I do realize that of all the places in the wide world, moving to that area might not be exactly moving away from my problems. But I'm kind of finished making life decisions based around that situation. And if it is worse than I thought, having no school, a shrink to talk to, and many many many of my closest friends, plus my family right around as close as ever, all of these things at my fingertips... I think I am putting myself in a good situation. And again, finally, one I am at peace with.

Anyway, please pray for me. This wasn't easy by any means, and God and I aren't exactly on speaking terms (another goal for this year: talk to God again), so do pray hard, and for my poor parents too.

Duke and I are taking our show north. If nothing else, there's more fields for him up there.

Love,
Charlie

It's musiiiiiiic!

You may notice that I have a little somethin'-somethin' from a place called the Hype Machine over on the left hand side.

<<<<<<<< Do NOT be alarmed. This is a very very short list of things I am currently listening to on that beautiful site. If you like some of the stuff I have up (and well you should), but an older song has disappeared, click "sorrycharlie's loved tracks" and there it will be!

Especially enjoy Yael Naim today, as I am. I feel nice and pretentious when I listen to artists who sing in Hebrew sometimes and sing Britney Spears covers other times, and who doesn't like feeling pretentious?

...well, except for maybe Jesus.

Love,
Charlie

syntactic ambiguity

1. Nothing is better than eternal happiness.
2. Eating a nice, juicy hamburger is better than nothing.

THEREFORE:
Eating a nice, juicy hamburger is better than eternal happiness.

The first of a few surprises.

So there's a lot of news from my end headed your way in the next month, so be sure to look at this blog constantly. Leave the window open, and just hit refresh.

First things first, I am playing with my dear friend Andrew Bargh in Owen Monroy's appearance on B-Sides. I play French horn (and a few other things), and so that will be happening. That's going down tomorrow (April 9) at 10pm at Messiah's student union. We are playing a small set of Owen's original stuff, which is more than fantastic, in my opinion, as we open for this chick named Gretel. I had never heard of her (them?) until Pete Corning sent her myspace to everyone. She's really good, so have a little listen. As with all B-Sides, the show is free.

As I said earlier, there's a storm abrewin' from my side of things... by the end of April, things are going to be vastly different. You'll see. And I'll see you all tomorrow night!

Love,
Charlie