Written May 17, 1999
My perfect woman?
She's something special, something to be cherished.
It isn't enough to contain, but it needs to be you, and nothing but you.
She can be any color, or any race, but for reasons unknown, she's French. Very pale-skinned and French. Cultured and well-read, she's bi-lingual and smart enough to keep me interested for life. She has to know how to carry herself, not only for herself, but for the world. I love it when I see a woman walk into a room and be completely in control from that first step.
She's got very large, expressive eyes and skin that glows with my desire for her. She's intriguing and people find themselves drawn to her for some unknown reason, beyond her physical beauty. I yearn for her like a broken puzzle yearns for completion.
Written April 19,
1999
Don't let these heavy words fool you.
I'm a pretty happy guy.
This is just my outlet, you see.
One of the Shiny, Happies I am not.
But I do sometimes smile for no reason.
Open the door for someone, just to do it.
It may be small but I can feel it.
If you saw my wallpaper, you'd know.
I can't be mad for very long in here.
My energy renewed by connecting.
You may think me something that I am not.
More than I actually am.
When you read words, you don't get the whole picture.
I'm no knight.
I have no armor.
I'm just someone you would see on the street.
Aren't you?
There's no Gentry.
No right and wrong.
No white hats and certainly no Evil.
And if you believe that…
I've done my job.
Marconi Macaroni
Written May 12, 1999
I had a girl.
What a girl.
It doesn't stop me now, except to think.
I had a girl.
Quite a girl.
Horse-Girl always said obsessed.
But I say impressed.
With how well she's held up,
to what I moved on to.
Not necessarily up, though.
But not really down.
Unless we're talking about intelligence, style and charisma.
Then I guess, it'd be a step down.
I wish it could have been different in my life.
But I really don't.
If things didn't happen this way, they'd be different.
And I wouldn't be me.
I'd be Him, or her, or It.
And that just doesn't sit right.
Couldn't stay in such a dark place,
but still I ride.
Someone once said, 'You can park anywhere, Brendan.'
And I'm beginning to believe it.
How difficult is it to set your feet and pull?
When you know it's worth it.
Even getting lost was so much fun, it always ended in macaroni.
Lost in Aspen
Written April 14, 1999
Saying No is about how you set your feet.
You want me to foget my past.
I say no.
It defines me.
Makes me who I am.
Would you have me deny myself this?
I say no.
As my body gets stronger.
My mind follows suit.
Can you find the trail of white stones?
From what I wasn't to what I AM.
Do you want me to retrace my steps?
I say no.
It's been a long trip.
Thousands of footfalls.
I've been here before.
I can feel my path in the dark now.
The sky no longer confuses me.
The sun no longer shines through the trees.
A challenge?
I say no.
Can you feel me coming?
I know exactly what you are.
And it no longer scares me.
Would you have me believe something else?
That you set me on this path?
I say no.
And I mean it.
Sailor Moon was Right, but I Left
Written April 14, 1999
Ex's are funny things.
How does one go about saying things?
Do I have to pass unneeded, unheeded notes?
I know she's there.
I know her eyes read the words.
But her hands remain motionless.
I've come to some conclusions.
Some have it and some don't.
Simple, you say?
Maybe.
Some contain what you want.
Most don't.
I'm sure there are a 1,000 buses.
But only a few are going your way, at the right time.
And only occassionally do you have exact change.
She had it.
She had all that I wanted.
The brilliance, the talent, the look, it was all there.
But so were other things.
Things that wouldn't set straight.
Self-imposed, or whatever, but there.
Neither of us could reach what was inherently unreachable.
But damn do I think about her.
Sometimes tainting newer flings and things.
What the hell do I do?
Move on?
What sort of option is that?
The only one I've got, I guess.
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