I was put in a position recently where I got the opportunity to finish something I started twenty-seven years ago. Once I really got into the work, something interesting happened. I woke up and realized I’m a 46 year old man, and I have been walking in place for a very long time. Treading water. I’m not sure what to make of all that time. Where the idea had been to escape something difficult and unnecessary, I found myself up against a wall that was between a boulder and a hard place. There is a rate of interest on an investment in arrogance. And boy does it pay dividends in pain and wreckage. As the years pile up, there seems no avoidance of circles coming full. I spent a lot of money on tattoos and stickers that don’t mean as much as the gray hairs and lines on my face. Funny how you can’t fake that. And maybe how you can’t read it without learning the language in lifes’ calligraphy. Not a lot of things in this world are done in a straight line. And...
Well, It’s finally here, dear reader. The next Tittilating tid-bit from the ever exciting and enlightening existence of your favorite blogger. Welcome to the Taylor Show. I never believed in ghosts. I was always sure that what I didn’t believe would never jump out and haunt me with love or pride… And I never thought it would be Megan who would turn me into goosebumps and jello old man brain with smiling fear and what love turned out to be in this weird show. What a long, strange , short , beautiful trip it’s been. And why am I so graced to have her sticking around to watch my back and make sure I don’t shoot myself in the arm over the girl of the decade and the latest horror show of regret and bad decisions. I wonder what happened to fritz And June Cleaver… Dave Haarhoff is dead. And David Scheidt, and Reuben, and most of the gang. Kurt. How am I the one still here? I’m not going to question it. Even though I just did. I live across the street from the Idanha, and the Langroice Bu...
I caught a glimpse of you in one of the dozens of empty journals lying around here. They are empty whether they have any of my scribbling in them or not. But lately, since you,.., haunting forever residence in my loft, in my bed, in my heart and in my lot here in life…. I see what haunting really is. What hurting really was. And I see pictures you left for me. Pics you took for me. Not for the other guys you were keeping in love with you. I am an expert in not being in love with. And I know you actually had some kind of demented, toxic love for me that I was too busy noticing someone who never came close to having the kind of understanding, the kind of similar little mind ruled by a silly heart that could never really function in this world… Unless we lived and found an audience. A reader out there who knows what it felt to get those first goosebumps and the first real butterflies I had felt in maybe decades…. Only to turn around and see the girl that th...
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