We must blend into the choir, sing a static with the whole.

Last night was painful. I felt like a babysitter, Sitting sober in a living room with my sober girlfriend watching our friends younger sisters fuck themselves. I'm in a room full of drunk 15 year old girls, trying not to judge them, as I was doing the same thing at 15. Watching all this, quite and slow made me think too much and put a sting in my eye. I was thinking "your all dying, and you love it." I was so sad for them, but I knew there wasn't anything for me to say to them. It hurt. Your all so young and your drinking so much, and hurting so much, and drinking so much and rolling over in everything, smiling all the while. It hurts to have been through it and sit by quietly.

This morning though, my shirts from saddle-creek came and that made my year. I'm going to get a haircut later and I'm seeing Shelby tonight so Its a good day.

later, I was finishing my first cigarette of the day, pissed off. Listening to the fans cheering for... Whatever they were cheering for. With there healthy lungs, I should be there. Everyone I grew up with is there smiling with the smiling. I hate myself for making it such a problem to be happy, I cant sing a static with the choir and I hate it.
I'm hating this cigarette too, all of them. The first one of the day isn't even getting to me anymore. I think I should stop but I don't want to stop. So, it cant happen yet, I hate it. I'm trying though, I just stopped drinking, I haven't drank in a long time (for me) and it feels wonderful. I'm fighting one addiction and fueling another. Its alright with me because its better to my friends.

On a, uhm, different note. Before I got out of my bed I was listening to the ice cream man drive by my house and I was thinking..... Probably too much. But it always seemed so great when I was young but now the idea of a middle aged man visiting children daily just seems strange.

I also thought, some day I want to be an icecream man, and refuse service to fat children.
I think id be out of work, fast.

.trumping family with friendship.

I know everyone has times when there family means nothing, and friends are all you have. I just cant help but feel guilty about loving my friends child more than my own nephew. I've been taking care of my nephew Jaiden this week, laying with him before he wakes up, making him breakfast, and playing cars. I'm happy for that, because normally I would be asleep at 11, but having some point to my to my life for just this week feels good.

A few nights ago Nick and I went to Katie's house and hung out with her and Alex and their 1 year old, Ethan. Ethan is a beautiful boy, Katie let me hold him and I fed him his bottle till he was inches from sleep, then his mother put him in his swing. I love that child, its so strange that I care about this kid more than I cared when I held Jaiden at 1 year. When Ethan was in my arms I wanted to cry, this just doesn't make any sense to me. I feel like a bad person with no loyalty to my family. I'm doing my best to love the holden, weeks, schantz, and haltom families. I always end up trumping family with friendship.
I hope this finds you well,
.holden.

Music with Movement

I've been listening to a lot of Mogwai, Sigur Ros, Mum, Radiohead, The Notwist, The books Air and bands like that. If you haven't heard any of them its all like, slowish electronic music with great ambiance that sounds like the noise inside your head (my head) when a you appreciate a child in the park playing with sticks, the ring of milk on your counter with some crumbs scattered next to it . Its how the world sounds when I appreciate things aesthetically and feel them and know they are there for me and not just pass them by. Im not sure if im making much sense but Im affected. This is The music that you hear and it seems more like your feeling it with all of your self more than just hearing it with your ears. Basically the point of this post was to say that im going to cry to create a demo of music like this. Just see what im feeling, just to feel what im seeing. If other people like it, don't, that's okay, I just have to build it.
.holden.
Oh, most of these songs are instrumental too... Im not sure if my CD will be.

.my bright red kite in a dark cold rainstorm.

For future reference, The 'girls' are Rachel, Brittany, Cloe, Brianna, Michelle, Shelby, Jacquie Siska and Ashley Blankenship, The last ones surprised me too. I Think subconsciously my brain just picked out the girls that I ever loved, for however long, a week, 30 seconds or years. I think i just filed through everyone that ever meant anything more than just a friend. Not necessarily sexual, just something. I think if you don't understand what I mean then someday you'll feel it, but, anyway, i think most anyone who would read this would understand.

So, here I am in this field that I used to play in and fly a kite when i was 10, before i ruined my youth, before i gave it away. That was when we had our camper, our transportation that brought my parents to alcoholic summers and alcoholic fights and alcoholic neglect. Fuck.

This field, this dream rather shifted from black and white, to color, to white and black. The sun was shining and the air was warm, i think that may have something to do with lift, flight, something.

I had my kite out, in this black and white scene, about 100 feet in front of me. all around me was beautiful and warm, i felt my sun as it warmed my teeth. But I could see the rain on my red kite, the storms, everything in my head. I could see a nice (angst)cloud free for my kite to fly and i tried to bring it there, but behind me there was conversation, about how much i hurt, and how much i hurt. my ears don't ring, they sting.

I was doing my best to move on and enjoy the day but the storms would follow me and send my kite bouncing in the mud, red smudged brown now.

This rain didn't stop, this all okay around me feeling didn't stop. The grass would flash green to tease me, then ran back to black.

Finally im scared, and worried, i cry in the sun. the girls come to me, one at a time. I hug them and hold the string with one hand. They all talk to each other, talk to me, lay in the grass, sit on rocks, eat bean burritos, explain this picture, that picture, smoke cigarettes, walk with me, hands on my shoulders, hands on my waste, that moment, week, 30 seconds or year all came back to me, and they were each with me. (I know its a selfish dream, but it was my dream.) Eventually my bright red, wet red, dark red kite dries as the storm subsides and everything is fine. everything is smiles, the black goes color and they all leave, eventually, they stay for there respective, week, 30 seconds or year and then im alone. for some reason, Brittany stays the longest, sitting on a bar waiting for a ride at Michigan's adventure, with her hair wet from the other park and face golden in the sun that's going down I say i love you and shes gone, and this all goes black. now my kite, my optimism that was always red goes to black and white along with the field and the rocks. my kite still flies and i enjoy the dismal feeling. Maybe i grew up. Maybe im alright. Maybe i moved on. Goodbye Brittany, girls.
Love,
.holden.