Nice guys don’t finish last,
they just die.
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Whatever you decide, do it without the need for validation—we are one.
Whatever you decide, do it without the need for validation.
To seek validity is but a farce. It’s like aiming to make a splash in a rain puddle.
A child learns early on whether they care to admit it or not, that their choice is theirs and theirs alone. Nobody really cares more than it takes them to realize, eventually with age, that nobody really cares.
Sure, a mother cares deeply, but only as far as it interrupts her well being.
A father can break his back many times, but only as many times as it serves his cause.
Progression doesn’t come from an audience. Progression comes from within.
Progression comes from love, awareness, and nurture.
And although social media tells a different story from reality, we seek it, crave it, we often need it, but do we really?
Perhaps the greatest lesson we can learn from posting our day to day lives, morality, and hardships is that we are all equally as alone as we are the same—myself included.
Not too long ago, there was a time, it seemed, the world was much larger than we could ever imagine.
Driving cross country felt then like an achievement whereas now—after doing it more than a dozen times—it feels more like a routine I’d rather not admit.
Mostly it’s this that scares me.
Desensitization. It’s this that makes me wonder.
What’s the point?
The point is to treat yourself with the same dignity you would a stranger—a child.
The point is to look beyond life’s blessings, with eyes wide shut, and understand that all will be regardless of whatever validation you seek.
We can learn this by simply looking at a flower bloom. We can understand this by accepting that although, it may seem, the flower dies, another will take its place, as equally and wholly as beautiful as its former.
So whatever you decide, decide knowing, you aren’t as separate as you feel—we are all one.
Portrait of my own Unique Beauty
If what you see in the mirror is ugly, then consider this: chances are you’re comparing your own unique beauty to what, for your entire life, you’ve been programmed to believe is beautiful.
And what is beauty anyways?
Margaret Wolfe Hungerford said, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
And isn’t that true? Yes or no, in more instances than not beauty is subjective. In fact, I’d go even further to say that beauty manifests itself in infinite ways other than what the eye can see.
As a photographer with a fond admiration for women and men alike I can honestly say that I have taken countless photographs and manipulated them to appeal to the mass collective of what is to be considered quote on quote “beautiful.”
Hypocrite. No, I think not. I never claimed they were beautiful but simply did my job in a way that my superior agreed was aesthetically pleasing.
A wrinkle here, a crows foot there, deleted.
Nobody has ever died from a portrayal of beauty, right?
Wrong. Though I’m not an extremist so there are many factors to consider, all of which yes, I agree, may seem like a bit of a cop out or excuse not to hold oneself accountable for taking what is and transforming it into something less natural.
But this isn’t about my career choice or eye in which I behold.
This is about you and that “ugly” reflection in the mirror.
You are not ugly, you simply aren’t. You are you, and you are beautiful.
Those who claim to seek perfection, well, they’re only trying to fill a void. And it’s a bottomless pit because like beauty, perfection is ultimately subjective.
While I sit here and delve deeper into thought, I watch a mother and daughter walk by my window. The mother is flapping her arms as graceful as she can. The child looks to her mother and understands she is trying her best.
In the end all that we can do is try our best to love ourselves enough to fully accept the unique beauty of another.
Any other judgement is of which we have been programmed to believe.
It’s taken a very long while to believe in myself and I willingly admit that each day is a slow progression to further acceptance of my own unique beauty.
If someone tells you you’re not beautiful, that’s their loss.
And I hope the next mirror that you face looks back in your direction as the child looks with grace and marvels at the perfection of her mother’s love.
Leaves they fall in autumn
Everyone has problems
More elaborate than my own
Like these they fall in autumn
Their limbs are all exposed
I want to tell them something
Assure they’re not alone
Still leaves they fall in autumn
Sometimes to live you’ve got to die.
Some say the world’s worth saving
Some say we’ll never know
Like a corn cob pipe and button
Left in the melting snow
A fireplace can warm you
For a while from the cold
Still a child holds his coal eyes
And now he knows.
It’s not his fault that his friend must go
Either way he’s gonna cry
You’re beautiful so it’s logical
This season’s just a state of mind
If I could save you, you know I would
But even I know that’s a lie
See summers change and then grow cold
It’s no longer up to me to decide
This Adam’s apple is proof of Eve
Did you think it would be that easy
just to walk away.
Like we were the 30th of April
now it’s the 1st of May.
The sun here is always shining
yet I still see rain.
I was California dreaming
just to numb the pain.
Awake
or asleep
It doesn’t really make a difference
Blue
or green
The ocean looks the same
Black
or white
Just pictures on a TV screen
You
and I
We’re searching for significance
I guess…
You had to make your move
like we were playing chess.
Across from one another
we are at our best.
Stuck between the sun and moon
like all the rest.
Before my Confirmation
I never did confess.
Up
or down
The world’s full of extremes
Then
or now
The choices never change
Commit
or don’t
Either way there’s so much pain
You
and I
We’re just finger painting our esteem
I guess…
Then a baby’s born
Then another one and then some more
While a preemie dies
It’s not her fault that he’s premature
Grief
or guilt
Both come in due time
Live
or die
Flip a coin put it aside
Bitter
or sweet
This Adam’s apple is proof of Eve
You
and I
Banished from that Garden
we couldn’t find.
Still, did you think it would be that easy
just to walk away?
It was cold that year I remember well
I fell in love with her smile
like I had a choice?
She looked me over hell
felt like a little boy
It was cold that year
I remember well
Tangled blankets and sheets
that old apartment smell.
I fell in love with her mind
like an Etch A Sketch
She threw so many bones
like we were playing fetch
It was cold that year
smoke on the fire escape
I drew her in black lines
then shook but couldn’t erase.
I fell in love with her body
like it was a toy
We’d make love for hours
then a little more
It was cold that year
with Manhattan in view
We counted down from 10
New Years on Pia’s roof.
Ain’t it a trip life
you work just to get away
She fell so many times
I’d pick her up and say
You choose the road anywhere
let’s take a drive
Coast to coast man
we died to feel alive.
There’s a scrapbook somewhere
it’s unfinished but proof
That true love exists
and it’s in me and you
A crazy beautiful thing now
baby that’s the truth
I’ll finish it one day
till then this’ll have to do.
I fell in love with her eyes
bewitched under spell
At the flick of a switch
I could turn heaven to hell
If looks could kill honey
stare come on I’m your guy
I never loved her more
than when I wanted to die.
I fell in love with her soul
as she burned the sage
Expelling demons like a shaman
she was young and brave
It was cold that year
at the Macy’s parade
Her face covered in scarf
a perfect picture to take.
I fell in love with her frown
just to turn it around
I fell in love with her ups
just to carry her downs
It was cold that year
I remember now
The first night she slept
next to me safe and sound.
Ain’t life a gas man
you work just to get away
You get away then go home
wishing that you’d stayed
One more day in a motel
somewhere new
They’re always coming man
those damn check out blues.
There’s a memory somewhere
to take me back
Always underdressed and upset
baby that’s a wrap
I remember it all like it was yesterday
That’s why I wake up in love
with each and every day.
this tiny secret
Dying
Everything
Everyone
Always dying
Dead
And gone
People live
People die
And die
And on
For what is life
Without death
Knowing this
tiny secret, that
In death
there too
Is life.
between the lines
If nothing else sticks
take solace in that,
life happens—and—you die,
between the lines
there’s simply time.
For what?
Bah! You tell me!
Besides,
I’ve got to get my watch fixed.
Something Mama chose not to say
Life is like
a box of chocolates
and then
you die.
Sirens
Far off in the distance they scream.
“Someone is going to die!”
Passing by the window now is another.
“Someone is going to die!”
Turning to page 359, I’m reminded.
“Someone is going to die!”
And I could describe the flashing lights.
Or the screeching of tires.
The anxiety.
The awesome routine of the Ambulance Driver.
Though my better judgement tells me other wise.
Not do describe the pain.
The wailing.
Or the fact that Sirens are neutral.
And that red is the only conceivable color to match.
“Someone is going to die!”
Turning to page 404.
“Someone is going to die!”
And another passes.
“Someone is going to die!”
“Someone is going to die!”
“Someone is going to die!”
“Someone is going to die!”
Farther off in the distance now,
like a tribal chant, you can almost dance to it’s rhythm.
WEE-WOO, WEE-WOO
Wee-Woo, Wee-Woo
wee-woo, wee-woo
…
