Anthony Green | 1.20.24

Wait!

This is going to be more than you want to hear, but it’s good…

I’m fine with how I felt about you. It’s a wonderful thing. It was never anything more than a feeling, right?

But I forget it sometimes and then someone says to me something wild about you – like my friend did today – and I realize why I felt that way.

I hope you know that a lot of people like you from the minute they meet you. But I liked you because I got to know you.

And it was epic. It still is. But it comes with a lot of respect for you and your life now. I’m happy being your friend.

Be happy being one of the beautiful people in the world.

You can stop the world with your smile. I’m proof of that.

Maybe I’ll regret this when I sober up in the morning. But I hope you realize that there’s no spelling errors and that’s fucking awesome.

Keep being you.

This could have been a poem…
But when words don’t mean enough…..

Pale Lungs | 12.30.23

What keeps you here?

There’s no reason to consider this
anything more than a memory-induced
flair up.

Something brought on by the warmth
of the Holidays and the prospect of
new beginnings. 

A tiptoe back into infatuation.
One hell of a distraction.
The hottest summer on record.

Having let go
and gracefully moved on
allowing details to fade
until they won’t anymore..

I’ll write this off
as nothing more than a
pebble in my path
that found its way in front of my feet..

A stumble.
Not a fall.

And now that I’ve recovered,
perhaps I’ll pick up the pace.
Turn this wandering onward into a
full sprint.

I just hope these thoughts can’t keep up…

The Other ‘Days Between’

The week between Christmas and New Year’s is always a bit untethered. I take this week off from work to spend with my kids and face it down with no expectations at all. In fact, right now the only thing we’ve got planned out is a trip to Vermont tomorrow.

Another fact: I didn’t know what day it was until my daughter reminded me.

Anyway…

It’s been raining since Christmas Eve. It’s not a real rain that you can go out and calculate and be burdened by; just a mist. It’s led to some serious fog which has led to me being in a serious mood for adventures. I think I’m spoiled after all of those trips to Copenhagen and Sweden in the winter. All that old-world culture – surrounded by foggy forests.

The girls don’t have the same sense of adventure as I do. They want to wake up late and play Roblox together. So, really, who am I to try and break that apart? It’s their vacation too and I want them to remember this week as a time they got to spend doing everything and nothing at all.

Though, they’re both over the moon about Vermont.

At seven and ten, who wouldn’t be excited for multiple opportunities to stock up on candy and other baubles filling the void in country stores and the like?

I, for one, just need to breathe in a little bit of that northern air. That’s the ticket for me. Maybe there’ll be some snow I can just take a peek at for a minute?

Either way, it’s these days between when we all get a chance to reset. If I had a holiday wish for anyone that I love and care about, it would be to find your chance to reset.

You can’t leave yourself behind by making some lofty promises that are sugar-coated as resolutions. But you can take a hard look at the things you’ve been carrying for the last year and decide what you’re bringing with you when we cross over into next year.

Deep sigh…

Well, enough from me. I told the girls that it’s wheels up in an hour so we could go see what kind of trouble we could get into in four-wheel drive.

Relationships: A Case Study on Overthinking

There’s nothing wrong with being open and honest and wearing your heart on your sleeve. There’s also nothing wrong with talking about your feelings and realizing that nothing in life fits in a singular, simple box.

Don’t ever assume you can assume what’s going on until you ask the hard questions or pre-emptively supply the hard answers.

That said, welcome. This personal experience for me is being shared in case you’re all jammed up in the grey matter when it comes to figuring out if you want to be with someone.

Act I: Wandering around the dream…

Early this morning, I had a dream about all those beginning things that shift your step at the start of a relationship. When you’re out for a minute and someone catches your eye.

The soft parade where you’re trying to impress each other, but you don’t know what to say. Feathers out, on a stage.

Perfect strangers trying to become a thing. A perfect match. But you don’t know anything about each other.

In this dream, I didn’t know anything. She didn’t know anything. Who are our friends? What kind of car do we drive? Are we cat people? Do we get lost in the stars at night?

Is she a vegetarian?
Jesus Christ, what if she’s a vegetarian?
I like to keep a ham on hand for sandwiches and omelets…

We were just two lost souls trying to weed through the fodder. Trying to figure out if it was worth getting to know anyone at this point.

And she was kind of tall.
Taller than me..

Wore tank tops and low-rise jeans.

Laughed loudly but wanted to remain unseen.

It started with talking. Then it moved on to the part where the strings started to connect, but one wrong move and the whole thing could unravel. That’s when it moved on to those loud laughs with light touching.

She was standing and I was sitting so I put my arm around her waist and tucked my head into her hip.

That connection.
When the switch flips and you start to figure out what needs to be figured out.

We were at the part where you’re in a room full of people but the two of you are alone for the first time.

And then I was on a beach.
But she wasn’t there.

And I found that I was being pushed and pulled in another direction. I wanted to go back. I felt like I had to go back, but I was going through – literally – an obstacle course – jumping over things, and sliding under things – exerting a significant amount of effort and force in the wrong direction.

And when I finally broke away – when I finally got back – I couldn’t even remember what she looked like. And if she was there, she didn’t remember me.

So what do you do in times like these? Well, you wake up. You end the dream and there you are on the frontier of a new day.

Act II: Upon Waking…

The whole thing made me realize that I don’t want to begin again. I enjoy the idea of feeling something for someone but once I get there – I don’t want to be there anymore.

It’s the thrill of the hunt.
The number one occupation.

And you can read into the why and how of that. There’s a fairly simple answer to all of that.

It’s the age-old fight between the head and the heart and, at this point, I don’t know who’s calling the shots. But I know, on some collective level, that as much as the whole idea of affection and love has been sold on me over and over, I just don’t have it in me to cross that line.

I mean, I just figured out who I am again. Picked up all the pieces. And now that all is calm and bright – what? I’m just supposed to do it all over again with the hope of never getting back to what got me here..

Again.

I would love to fall in love with cozy sweaters.
Maybe some wavy hair and the smell of women’s deodorant that you only get a hint of when you get too close.

Low-rise jeans.
Simple giggles.
Maybe some dirt under the fingernails and a tan that stuck around through fall, only to find it fading as we wander into winter…

But what about right now?
What about this moment where I’m writing from?

Act III: Right Now (7:28am)

The sun is about to make its first tear through the night sky. The cat is purring on me as I lay the wrong way in the right bed. The girls are upstairs sleeping and…

… and nothing.

I don’t have to do a thing all day if I don’t want to do anything. I don’t have to consider another adult and their life. I don’t have to fill in the void between quiet and conversations.

Granted, I’ve got the whole day planned out. I’m just waiting to finish writing so I can hop in the shower and turn it all on.

It’s not the fear of commitment. It’s not even the fear of getting our synapses to fire on the same plane to where a connection is made.

It’s just the whole idea of interrupting everything I’ve built. The whole idea of someone hanging a shirt in my closet or washing the dishes the way they wash dishes.

It’s six months down the road, ignoring the wonder of how it all began. It’s getting comfortable and worrying if I’ve got enough fuel in the tank to keep being the person that person needs me to be.

All I know about who I am starts right behind me. There isn’t a long and winding road I’ve been down or a story I want to share. Sure, there’s a lot I can say about me – but I don’t want to build a relationship built off of how I ended up here.

The last thing we need to be is one another’s therapists. Not for that shit at least.

I’ll be someone’s stray cat and they can be mine and we can talk about lonely nights in the rain. But let’s not complicate it with past lives with other lovers.

I also know I’m very proud and protective of all I’ve got and what I’ve done and a lot of that is sleeping in bunk beds above me.

They deserve all of me.
They need all of me.
Even though I only get them half the time.

And does that person get me half the time?
Do they sign up to be their other mother?

That’s a massive ton to think about and a lot to ask for. Like “Hey, I know we’re enjoying getting lost in one another’s minds, but have you met my amazing daughters? They’re here too.”

And I don’t resent that.
And I don’t expect anyone to pivot for that.

The last thing I want to be is a beast of burden. But those are the facts. The living, breathing, facts and I’d rather be upfront than trip someone up.

Does she like hiking?
Camping in the dead grey of winter on a random Thursday night?

How about being lost on a trail in the cold rain and snow then getting warmed up back in the truck while we wait for the windows to defrost while listening to something unexpected and hoping that she’s getting lost in it as much as I am so she gets why I don’t want to talk on the drive home?

See? See how much I expect right from the get-go?

I would rather get lost in my mind than in someone’s eyes at this point.

But the truth is, these things are just walls I’m building around me. Walls with signs hung from them saying “Wait until you see what’s inside”. That buzz in ancient neon just so you can’t ignore them.

I’m just as inviting as I am off-putting.

… And I want to plant more apple trees and raise honey bees and get caught wandering around outdoors by the wind and not my neighbors.

Where do fuzzy sweaters, low-rise jeans, the smell of wonder and baby powder, maybe wavy hair, and all the other delicate things I can try to find creative ways to write about fit in, with all of that?

Well. They don’t.

And if it bothers me a few days out of a whole year, then I’ll err for the greater good.

I don’t even have a couch in the house to cuddle on.
So maybe all of this is a good thing?

Act IV: The Realization That I’ve Been Overthinking

The fact is, the story that got me here is a great story. I’ve had a hell of a life. I’m an honest person and I don’t spit in front of women. But here’s the real kicker:

After reading this and editing it thoroughly, I don’t know what I want. Not really. I just know that I love who I am and where I am and – well – maybe I don’t want to screw up someone else’s world because I’m really happy with mine.

I’m okay with that.
In fact, I’m fine with that.

That’s a solid statement that can stand on its own without me having to explain it.

I always had this idea that once the girls were old enough to fend for themselves I’d finally tear the walls down and let all hell break loose. Put my heart out there on a stick and wait for someone to tear it apart.

It’s inevitable.
In all relationships.

We just have to find that part in the middle and hope to hang on to it for as long as we can. I can tell you a million amazing stories about life in the middle. But I won’t – because old relationships don’t build new ones.

So here’s to dreaming the dreams and taking chances before you wake up.

Here’s to reading too much into those dreams and finding the courage to wake up.

And here’s to poking around, having fun, and making sure you don’t leave your boots by another man’s bed.

Act V: The End

If you need me, I’ll be out here dancing…
After all, I’m still walking – so I’m sure that I can dance…

The Ginger People

Before it left their system entirely, the illness that buggered up my girls over the weekend shared one of its remaining embers with me. It’s basically a cold with heavy nausea.

Anyone who knows me knows that I could be fully engulfed in flames and won’t complain, but I tend to go fetal at the first flash of feeling nauseous.

I also don’t like taking anything too scientific during the day because, quite frankly, I’ve got shit to do. I can’t be hanging ten out in space and time. So I considered what my ancestral elders would do – at least for the tummy bubbles – and all signs and patterns in the stars led to ginger.

Needing some things for dinner, at least for the girls, I decided to head to Whole Foods.

Whole Foods, dear reader, is a fantastic collection of food stuffs, yuppy stuffs, and homeopathic concoctions – but is notably a rollicking cluster fuck from when they open until they close. I love shopping there, but you need to have your head on straight or you’re going to get rolled over.

Even with a lot of folks ordering online, the store foragers fulfilling those orders are ravenous at best and make the whole experience a challenge.

Anyway..

I decided what I would make the girls for dinner in the moment, and made my way to the back of the store where they keep the feel-good things while I gathered my ingredients.

As if by divine intervention there was a store clerk there and I asked her where I could find the ginger. I didn’t want to scan the myriad items and I figured she would have the inside track on the good stuff.

But, instead, she asked me if I was sick. I wasn’t prepared to be interrogated and – as if talking to a dear friend whom I wouldn’t mind sharing my secrets with – blurted out that I was nauseous.

As I felt the wave of anxiety and disappointment wash over me, I watched the bomb go off behind her eyes as she stepped back from me and asked me why I wasn’t wearing a mask.

Anyone paying attention to my antics and convictions through the pandemic knows I’m a flag-waving supporter of mask-wearing. But here I was, maskless and – technically in the wrong. So, I mustered up some arrogance and asked her where hers was..

The next minute, in silence, was hell.

She made her stand and I met her on the hill she decided to die on. She wasn’t expecting my response just as much as I wasn’t expecting to respond that way. But, in fairness, I feel like shit so I’m admittedly bound to make some bad decisions.

But at least now we had common ground.

She adjusted herself while I came back from the little hole I was hiding in, in my mind, that the silence sent me running down. I hate it when things are too quiet.

As if inspired by some unseen spirit, she began her well-informed diatribe on the various types of ginger-based remedies that were available. As she got into her groove and loosened up a bit, I started nodding to indicate that I was picking up what she was putting down. Our tet-a-tet had resolved itself and we were on our way to resolution.

While she was describing to me the fourth option I had to help me get rid of my tummy troubles, I saw a familiar face on a paper package. Based on its location on the shelves, I’m not sure why she didn’t start there. But I wasn’t about to undo all the work we’d done to get over our issues and come together on this.

‘The Ginger People’ candies have long been a friend of mine on the trail, out on bail, and whenever I wanted to experience the perfect balance between sweet and burning that raw, sugar-coated, candied ginger provides. I’ve never once used them to solve a medical issue.

Of course. What a lightbulb moment. So bright and encompassing. I interrupted my former enemy-turned-ally and exclaimed how – what I can only assume was going to be her fifth option for me – was the ticket.

24 dissolvable tablets that “promote digestive health, relieve motion sickness and nausea, ease gas, and indigestion” and, have an active ginger rating of 6, which, according to the bright blue colored scale on the box, is the highest rating.

She let out an audible sigh; I offered up an uncomfortable giggle. And that was that. She was on her way with her day and I with mine. Back to being perfect strangers.

While checking out, a familiar-looking little boy was staring at me with such conviction that I swore I was going to have to start paying child support. But his mother was someone I’d never seen in this life, so I checked out and moved on. I made sure to place the eggs on top but was still miffed that I was forced into a dozen instead of an 18-pack, which is the real grand slam deal on eggs in Whole Foods.

I digress…

In the parking lot, once I got into the truck, I hunted through my bag for my little spicy remedy. I popped open the package with an overabundance of care, as if this was some great treasure, and ate two of the little tan tablets. They burned like hell and made my eyes water. Which was an awesome byproduct as my left contact was a little dry.

Within minutes I felt fine. I felt better than fine, in fact. I felt inspired, and that inspiration has led to this moment in time where I threw all these words together, while parked in front of the girls’ school, waiting to pick them up.

Yes, the cold-like symptoms are still dancing around inside my insides, but the nausea has subsided for the time being. As I told you earlier, I can take on the sniffles and a dry cough. I could easily employ the “it’s that time of year” excuse while I suckle on a cough drop and smile. But the second something makes me feel like something is coming up and out, I shut down like anyone else who’s got the kind of social hang-ups I do.

4:57-5:03am

Soft and sinking deep.
I know this pillow’s got me
as I start to fade away.

So many words have left me
since the light of my phone faded away.

Then the sounds around me drift
until all I can hear is the slowing of my breathing…

The beating of my heart…

And the small symphony
that accompanies dreams
coming to take me away…

Almost there…

Then the AC kicks on.
I’m back.
Writing.
Accomplished.

Yet waiting to find
the sweet spot on my pillow again…

Buffalo Tom | 9.7.23

Details fade
like taillights in fog.
Just the minutiae
nothing major.

So,
it won’t be like bumping into a stranger.

But,
with a sigh of relief –
everything will seem new
every time.

What a fantastic thing!

This was a fantastic summer.
Like a bug in a jar,
I couldn’t escape.

But was I even trying?

As someone who swore off
such things in this life,
I feel a bit like a liar.

It’s the only lie I’ll ever tell you.
Just don’t drop the jar…

John Mayer | 8.25.23

Familiar feelings
about something and not someone…

The thrill of diving deeper…
The fear of not finding the bottom.
The fact that there is no bottom…

The sudden change of pace.
An extra ingredient in the game of life.

I’m getting distracted on purpose.

It comes in waves.
I may be a strong swimmer,
but what am I missing on the periphery?

Probably nothing.
Keep treading water.

It’s not a bad thing.
It’s not everything.
It’s a lot of tiptoeing around…
The art of being indirect…

The fact that I’m intimidated.

The confidence I have in my head
that I seemingly leave at home.
Finding myself tongue-tied, dumbfounded
and standing around.

Is it a missed opportunity?
Is it a saving grace?

Shouldn’t the beer be helping?

Finally, some laughter
and I can stop staring at the ceiling.

Our greatest adventures
wait within the unknown.

But it’s time to go home.

It’s better to say too much
then never say what you need to say again…

I need to figure that last part out…


The Nevermore

I used to have this friend named Tyler. Hell, he’s still my friend – I just haven’t talked to him in years. Life gets weird. It got a little weird. But – at this point – I can’t remember why.

Water under the bridge…
Anyway…

This guy drank more coffee, per capita, than anyone I’ve ever met – and it fueled his creativity. Not that he needed it, he was naturally talented. Pick a medium – he could impress you with what he came up with.

One night, we were having some oat sodas and he asked me to listen to a song he’d been tracking. So we go up into his studio of sorts and he plays this song for me. It was all him – every instrument, the mixing, the final mixing – all Tyler.

I’m fairly certain our friend Scott was there too – Ghosty 2 Dope – haha. I’ve known that dude since we were three. We don’t much talk anymore either. That’s more political though. He knows where I am if he needs me. I love that guy like a brother.

Anyway…

The song had a dark feeling. It might have even been raining outside. November. Lots of drama. The pacing of the drums foretold the struggle ahead. The pairing of guitars..

All of it was thick as a brick; it got in your head.

Then he asked me to lay down some vocals for him.

Now, I have written plenty of lyrics over the years. For myself. For other bands. It’s a fun exercise. Especially when you’ve got something dramatic that you need to get out of your system.

Unfortunately, at the time I didn’t have much of anything dramatic going on in my life. This predates the eventual downfall of my marriage by almost a decade..

But I had a friend who was. I won’t get too deep into the story – but his old lady turned out to be a real trip. She was a double agent; a hot mess – the whole thing.

So I channeled the stories he was telling me…
Shut my eyes…
And sang…

The Nevermore – Rectified By You

We hit it all in one take. I listened to it once and then, once I plugged in, it all came pouring out of me. Then we sat back and let the chills run through us. I don’t remember much of it – even in the moment.

I think I just let go and let the spirit take me…

A few days later, when Tyler sent me the track, there were plans to make more music. I coined our little outfit “The Nevermore”. But as I said earlier – life gets weird.

Anyway, I haven’t listened to this song in ten years. Everyone involved in the song is now divorced and properly reinvented.

The guy who I wrote the song about makes bread; has a beautiful family. I actually need to give him a call – I had a crazy dream about him and his brothers the other day.

Tyler has become an insanely talented tattoo artist – and I still keep tabs on him. If there’s anyone who deserves the good things in life; he’s one of them.

Me? Yeah. I’m good. Haha. I’m the best version of me that I’ve ever been.

From the ashes and all.

P.S. I needed some kind of image to go along with this, so I let AI figure it all out for me. I threw some of the lyrics into the bot and let it mull everything over.

Not bad, AI. Not bad at all.