The Whole Year Inn

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 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...

  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...

The one you feel like you can't breathe without..  She's the one who kills you.  -Buk (I can't believe I took that!) 

Texts I almost sent. #29 It's just been a long time since I was even looking for a fellow traveler that might recognize The art on my wall. Or to both name the same  song at the same moment when asked what our favorite was.  Goosebumps. sustained silence eye to eye I don't know what she is, but I know we are ours. There are still those questions....   When she leaves... And the sun creeps around the fact that it's too late... To make that girl remember him at 1

August in Bellevue Idaho during the 1980s had the bluest skies I can remember. The sky was always a bit smaller than the places I live now, but on one particular day it was only directly above. The world around me that day was only soft dirt walls around me and there was a soupy cold mud soaking through my baseball uniform and congealing around my tightening skin.   My skin has never fit me well. But that day was when it was confirmed that it didn’t belong to me. I was not the fat kid inside. I was not the weirdo who was supposed to be ridiculed and laughed at. If I was a freak, it wouldn’t have hurt so much. The mud pit was my first cave. It was the first little death that taught me how cold the world could really be, and how I should never ever trust the people I was trying to be.   Baseball was a particularly strange element that made up the periodic table of my life’s beginnings. I was obsessed with baseball cards by the age of 8. I only know the year because of my collection. I st...

This was possibly the most significant thing I’ve ever done for myself and I had no expectations. Well, that might not be true. I had probably more negative expectations than neutral. I cannot overstate the intensity, and the familiarity of this experience. It is somehow related to both DMT hallucinations, dreams, and a few daydreams or visions I’ve had during periods of meditation and hypnosis, but I felt so much more present and conscious and sober. Through my breath, some subtle guidance, and an intention I met myself. I then fell in love with myself. The self, fell in love with me, and entered me. We talked, and then laughed and cried, and decided to do some work together. I am here, clearly, to protect and love other people. The way I usually do that is to try and help them in some way. But I have always neglected myself. And everyone sees this, and I know this. But I didn’t really even believe in myself. And that is somehow so much more meaningful and literal than it sounds. I wa...