Thursday, February 26, 2009


Last night. I slept. I woke up and he was so afraid, it made me so afraid.
I met his family in the middle of the night. I laughed about it later today.

Relief in subtle victories. Maybe that is what I am writing about.

Driving angrily down busy streets in Massachusetts.
Matt changes the songs on his ipod to something that will cheer me up.

Matt and I sit in the crowded bar, drowning everyone else out.
A break or two for a car bomb... or two.
Mid-conversation a song breaks the tension.
"You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah,
She said you don't know me, and you don't wear my chains... oh yeah,
She said I think I'll go to Boston...
I think I'll start a new life"

And I, of course, break into tears.
As many times as the world has heard that song
I doubt it's words have ever said so much.

Now I am drunk.

Matt told Jon he looks at Upstate and remembers all of the negative. All of the loss.
He told Jon and now he tells me.
He says, "I cannot go back to New York to see Shannon in a casket."

It is always a little strange to hear your own name in a dialogue that you are one half of.
Starving for something, so I starve myself.
I have no answers. Just irrational and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Although, it is not all bad.
I am closer to stable than I have ever been.
I see less and less reason to run, to move, to change.

I think I like where I am, who I am, and who surrounds me just fine.

This really is enough, it is just fine.

And to Oswego: I love you. You feel more like home than anything I've ever known.


  1. for months i tired to tell myself that i was just in a "grass is greener on the other side" mindset, but fuck, after spending more than a day or two up there...

    well, let your mind wander.

    i don't know what i'm doing(which is nothing new), but i do know what i consider "home", and that isn't just because my family is around there.

    we'll see what the coming months bring.

    be well, shannon.

  2. There is a poem I like and it goes something like this

    love poem

    it is so nice
    to wake up
    in the morning
    all alone
    and not have to
    tell someone
    you love them
    when you don't love them

    written by richard brautigan

    and as to oswego...

    there are nightmares in those streets for me
    but its winds still stir in my bones
    and I'll never forget
    the feeling I got
    when I called that place my home

    home is where the heart is and thats inside of you so take care of home and home will take care of you

    (apparently I become both dr. phil and dr. seus when I get drunk nowadays)

    take care,