ALAN NELSON

Apr 07 2014

So it’s 3:40 am after another long night at work. I’m the closing kitchen cook at the hottest new restaurant in town and it feels good to finally see things come alive. But some things haven’t left my mind, like the last time I saw her.

It’s getting closer to the Local Natives concert and I haven’t heard from her in a week. I still have the extra ticket I purposely bought for her. I couldn’t imagine going with anyone else. Ever. That band was introduced to me by her and has helped me…US…through a lot of hard times and really expressed what she and I were feeling and going through.

If I went with someone else, I would only be wishing I was there, standing next to her, listening to the music that we love and connect with so deeply.

Mar 30 2014

You’re still the one that I adore. Ain’t much out there to have feelings for

"I can’t get over you, you left your mark on me/I want your high love and emotion endlessly/Cause you’re a good girl and you know it/You act so different around me"

-Drake

So we ran into each other last night, an unexpected event, at least on my part. I stood around my coworkers when you came up to us and we started talking. We were cordial at first but as the drinks we bought became more and more empty, you began to disclose to me more than the normal chit-chat: how you’ve been thinking about me and talking about me during your therapy sessions, how I’m on your mind in spite of you dating someone at the moment, and how much you hate everyone and everything to the point where you had told me you were going to “commit suicide at age 40” (which I would never let you do and you know that). I asked if you had been reading this blog and the entries I’ve been writing and you said “everyday”. I know you do which is why I address you directly in these entries.

My coworkers broke off and left for another bar and everyone, including you, wanted me to go with them. But I stayed with you. I stayed and talked with you because I hadn’t heard from you in weeks, let alone seen you outside of coming into Barbaro and you hating me for doing so. We kept talking and the conversation grew to be a little more intimate: reminiscing about our life together this time last year and how poor we were, the places we would eat at, the fun things we did together. I thought you had forgotten about all of that, which makes me tear up as I write this entry because I was wrong in a good way.

You didn’t forget about us. In fact, from what you’ve told me, it seems to be on your mind a lot lately and I couldn’t have been more happy to know that you still think about me and about us.

I remember I hugged you when you were telling me about how hard it has been, with school, society, work and other stressed you’re going through. I always wanted to carry your burden and take upon myself the problems that were just too much for one person to handle. After everything, I still want to. We hugged for a long time and it felt good to hold you in my arms, which if you haven’t noticed, are getting bigger every week. I ran my fingers through your hair. Buried my nose deep into the curls by your ear and inhaled deeply. “I still wear the perfume you bought me”. You don’t know how amazing that makes me feel. Almost as if you’re still mine.

I caught you mid sentence and kissed your lips and you didn’t wince or turn me away. You didn’t even say “stop”, “we can’t”. I kissed you long and hard, like the first time, standing outside your mom’s car when you came over for to my shitty apartment in the ghetto. It’s been several months and I’ve lost your taste.

We kept talking and eventually were standing outside your car, at 3 am, yelling and screaming at society and the world, bitter words of disgust and disapproval for the environment we succumb to. But every time you threw your hands up in the air to relentlessly hate on the world, I would grab you by the hips and pull you closer to my chest. I’d plant my rough, working hands I your waist and they fit together so perfectly. I would kiss you when you talked to taste your voice and I’d kiss you when you weren’t talking because I missed your voice.

You offered to take me home but I hadn’t had much to drink but caved in and asked for a ride to my car. We drove down the street and when we got to my car you began to cry. I held you and kissed you, passionately, because I knew that you were hurting and unhappy. I put my hand around the base of your head where it meets your slender neck and massaged, churning out the tension that you had built up. I could tell it made you feel a little better. So with one more kiss, I opened the passenger door and got out. “I’ll see you soon,” you said. “Sounds great, babe,” and I walked to my car. I didn’t even realize I had said that but it came so naturally that I didn’t even bother to apologize for it.

That was probably the happiest I had been in a very very long time.

Mar 26 2014
cracked:

If you’ve got to spend, spend on adventures.
4 Ways Money Actually Can Buy Happiness

#3. Don’t Use It to Buy Things
Things make you happy when they’re new. They’re just not new for long. So what does provide lasting happiness? It’s memories, especially memories of cool things that you’ve done. If you’ve ever done something you could legitimately brag about, something that gave you a story that you’ve used to entertain people at a party, you’ll know this feeling. The memory of doing that thing will make you happy for years. So don’t use your money to buy things. Use your money to buy experiences. Go traveling. Go skydiving. Don’t drink beers in your bar; drink beers in some other country’s bar. Break into a zoo. Punch a giraffe right in the crotch. Use your money to hire the right lawyers and buy your way to freedom.

Read More

This sort of makes sense

cracked:

If you’ve got to spend, spend on adventures.

4 Ways Money Actually Can Buy Happiness

#3. Don’t Use It to Buy Things

Things make you happy when they’re new. They’re just not new for long. So what does provide lasting happiness? It’s memories, especially memories of cool things that you’ve done. If you’ve ever done something you could legitimately brag about, something that gave you a story that you’ve used to entertain people at a party, you’ll know this feeling. The memory of doing that thing will make you happy for years. So don’t use your money to buy things. Use your money to buy experiences. Go traveling. Go skydiving. Don’t drink beers in your bar; drink beers in some other country’s bar. Break into a zoo. Punch a giraffe right in the crotch. Use your money to hire the right lawyers and buy your way to freedom.

Read More

This sort of makes sense

269 notes

Mar 23 2014
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard

+
Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
— Edgar Allan Poe

Mar 12 2014
Mar 11 2014

Saudade

(N.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; “the love that remains”

I miss getting pho with her on days like this; sitting across from each other, acting silly and slurping noodles, biting down on spring rolls…

Mar 08 2014

Is revisiting a failure always a bad thing?

If you keep coming back to it, maybe it’s not a mistake…

Mar 03 2014

I’ll never not lift weights before I know I’m going to see you.

I’ll never stop checking my driveway to see if your car pulls up.

I’ll never say “I’m too busy”, “I can’t do that for you”, or “I don’t have the time” when it comes to you.

I’ll never ask for my key back. There was a time when I demanded that we give each other’s keys back but that was some time ago. You have two sets of keys…one to my house and one to my heart and soul.

I’ll never stop picking you up when we hug.

I’ll never stop burying my face in the space between your neck and your shoulder to inhale your smell and kiss your skinny neck; to be drunk, again, on you.

I’ll never stop trying to kiss you, no matter how much you say “you can’t”, “we can’t”, because I’ll disagree with you every time.

I’ll never stop wanting you, wanting to be with you, wanting to build another life with you.

I’ll never want to close the book on “us”.

Feb 27 2014

Tu me manques

When people in France say “I miss you” in letters, email, texts or conversation, they sometimes say “Tu me manques,” which translates to “You are missing from me….”

To the most important reader of this blog:

You are missing from me.

There’s a part of me as a person that was formed,
Once I knew I was in love with you.
It was created, sustained but then left empty in a flash
Not a day goes by when I don’t think about you, A—
Whether positive or negative,
Maybe how our lives could have been.
It’s easy to think to myself
“Why did this..? When did this…? What did I do to deserve this?”, too.
But when did I stop to ask,
“Are you happy with this, too?”

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