Nicholas J. Krut

When I flip the little switch in the shower to make the water run through the top bit rather than the bottom I always brace myself.  I always prepare for the worst.  As though the cold water hitting my chest is going to destroy me.  As though the cold water is going to make me shrink into a little ball or fall to the bottom of the shower and get sucked down the drain.

I prepare myself for cold water hitting me, however I never prepare myself emotionally for other things hitting me in my life.  I wish that being prepared spanned more of my life.  Instead it just covers cold water in my shower.  How stupid.  Goodnight.  =(

Passionate epitaphs have always been my thing.  I forget about the moments leading up to the death, forgetting the troubles, the sins, the anger, the mistrust, all of it.

A symphony of words release themselves from my vocal cords, heart felt, but misguided; confused, but still true.  I’m finding myself in a place where I remember the past, a place where I see troubles in the beginning and I screen them out.  I feel a more contemplative me who is more interested in what the situation was composed of rather than how the situation ended.  My heart is filled with so many things, mailbox presents, blindfolded cupcake dates and kenituars.  Outstanding moments are just that, outstanding.  I want moments that aren’t outliers.  I want every embrace, every smile, every joke and every tear to be as incredible as the last.  It’s a lot to ask but there have been surprisingly few let downs.

My life is good.  My life is new.  My life is dynamic.  My life is… mine.

That felt really good to type.

“I am prepared for amazing things to happen.  I can handle it.”

I took my clothes off, slid under the sheets and held you.

Here we are, drifting off, each to our separate dreams even though we’re as close as ever. How beautiful! My dreams’ll come true, your dreams’ll come true, we’ll live them side-by-side though we may be miles, weeks, years, lifetimes apart. This love, this friendship, this understanding transcends all of that existential fluff. I could be eighty and you twenty-five. You could be on your death bed and I a young boy playing in your yard. With or without communication, with or without sheets in-between us, we are. At this point, does anything else matter for us? I think not.

You’ve helped me find my confidence and now it’s mine. No one can take it from me, not even you.

The best part is that you would never try to.

Friend, lover, hero, stranger, girl, no one.

Passion sweeps me away, friendship brings be back.

I sat on the window ledge, looking out.

I saw a rainbow and I saw crushed walnut shells on the street that the parade had swiftly passed through. Looking at the ground now it was obvious that something happened but the mood of the event could not be determined from the remains. The consciousness that was once in this air has changed, and morphed into a completely new one.

Maybe it was the crushing of the walnuts. Maybe it was the movement of the crowd. Maybe it was the sickening, but delicious smell wafting through the air that the diesel powered floats left behind them, like manure left by horses.

Something has changed and a finger cannot be placed on what. Let’s hope it is for the good, otherwise this will be the last parade that will rush down this street. This will be the last bit of smoke released from the lungs of this emaciated alcoholic.

As I opened the sake bottle I realized that little metal bit that is partially attached to the lid was coming off with the cap again.

Dammit.  Why must sake bottles always be overly attached to their lids.  I like that little metal bit there, it reminds me of when I was in high school, I would drink Mountain Dew^tm and I would play with that little plastic bit in-between the lid and the bottle.  I would use that piece to distract me from engaging in real conversations.  That little piece of plastic saved me so many useless conversations with my peers, conversations that they thought I heard and thought I listened to.

I have nothing to distract me now.  I hear everything that everyone says, almost to a fault.  Sometimes I hear things that people didn’t say but things that people probably meant to say.

I heard your wisper, but ignored it.  I felt your love, but rejected it.  I heard your voice, but I said the tone was too low.  I heard the movement of you, cleaning my floor, but I just walked over you.  If I am going to  be this oblivious to the world around me, I’d might as well not enter into it.  I love you, I hate you, I miss you, I despise you.  Part of you has helped me smelt the most important part of me and I don’t know where I stand anymore.  Though other people have hurt me, much much more….  You are the one who has taught me about love.  You were the one who broke the hound who was running out of line.  I wish you luck, with this history, you are going to need it.

I’m sorry if things are strange, I guess I forgot that after a shower I’m supposed to walk out of the bathroom with a towel on.  That is what I get for living alone.

My trash can perfectly seats 12 empty beer bottles.

Thank you.  They are completely empty.

Oblivious as he usually seemed, Dave knew what he was doing most of the time but he liked to sit back and see the movements of others. Dave had met the girl accidentally in passing and knew her type, the way she treated people and the way she cleverly stuffed chocolates in-between her fingers to attract starving people. It was cruel but fun to watch. He had known her for about 10 years now, they had become good friends, never anything more, mostly because of his knowledge of the situation, he liked to keep a backed off perspective to keep things… safe. They were very clearly compatible but he kind of liked keeping her at a distance because it was nice to control someone who controlled so many others, it kind of made Dave feel above people who he normally felt below.

Jonah was her name, it was really beautiful but he always thought of it more as a guy’s name. They spent weekends together climbing mountains and during the week when they both worked they liked to see midnight films and afterward catch up with the interesting people who hung out in neighboring diners. The time they spent together was pure gold and the time they spent apart was the same. Unfortunately it was too normal for both of them, so they stopped talking.

Incredibly human experiences are really rare for me. I just had one. I was in the bathroom and a guy told another, “If you get a chance read the last one.” There was a little sign hanging behind every urinal.

I read it. It said, “Never take a sleeping pill and a laxitive in the same night.” I will never use a urinal again. I had always avoided them before anyway.

I really appreciate that guy picking my bag up off the floor. What a cool guy…

Last night when I was sitting in the park there was a black and white mouse running around in the planter. How appropriate.

It was scurrying around and wishing it had someone to be near. It did not. Neither do I. I relate to that mouse because I feel like I am running, direction less, wishing that I had someone who I could get close to. The fountain isn’t running, it isn’t on and it won’t be. Maybe it never will be.

There are park benches, four of them, with seating for two people, or four really skinny people… I’ve never seen more than one person sitting on any park bench, it is sad that they have never been used for their full purpose. Like so many things, really. They are used but not utilized. I want to see these park benches, one day, stuffed with 6-10 people a piece, sitting right on top of one another, all smiling and so pleased to not just be alive, but alive together.

How beautiful would that be? Yeah, fucking beautiful.

In other news, life is stressful. That is all, now your local weather.

leaf in the park.

damaged on the left.

fallen from the tree.

very near to death.

hole in the heart, just like me.
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sorry about your “blood pressure”

ps: hi