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To Lisa on our Anniversary

Do you remember when I first asked you to get a cup of coffee after work, when we worked at Barnes and Nobel? And when we drove that same night to Providence, and we saw Sage Francis at AS220? Do you remember when we saw your old boss there from Epitaph, and soon we left and walked through the tunnel of all those collages, of hearts, and thoughts of healing? You took pictures of each of those hearts, each tile of hope. I believe that was the first time I said I loved you. It was not unlike today, when my friend Tuck and I, and his crazy girlfriend, went to a halloween party, where you were dressed as a butterfly. You looked so beautiful. And do you remember when that very next year, when you moved away to California, and you worked at Doghouse records, and I came and visited you. Soon after that I got a tattoo at Venice Beach, where the biker gangs, and graffiti artists ruled supreme.

I was scared before I met you. I had an empty feeling in my heart. I was broken, battered, my mind bruised. But when I was with you, you made me feel better. I felt special. You cured me. And do you remember soon after that Venice Beach excursion, and the trip to Hollywood Boulevard, my first time at Amoeba, and Tuck and his brother taking the trip up to visit us, from Salt Lake? I swear those few days were some of the best of my life.

It was in October five years ago, when I flew to L.A, and we drove home 3000 miles, to start a new life together. Five years ago today, we said, I love you, and I will never let you go. The last five years of my life, have been the best. I gained my confidence, I gained love, and I found my best friend. It was five years ago today, that I said I love you. Let’s go home. It was also five years ago today, when the Red Sox won their first world series in over 8 decades. Lisa, I love you so much.

Not only are you my girlfriend, but my best friend. You believed in me when I said school was too tough, and I would never get through it. Well, eventually I did. And it has alot to do with you, and the faith you have in me. You make me smile, and laugh, and I love loving you. We have been through it all. And I know I have made mistakes in the past, but I know that I love you. Even when we fight, it doesn’t last longer then a few minutes. I’ll make you laugh, and you’ll make me realize, that all the fights are stupid. I never ever forget the love. I can’t. You are so special to me. I love you very much.

Thanks for taking a chance on me.

Just another jagged thought by jason

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a word or two about my day

First off, i am a very loud cereal eater. I woke up today and slurped, and crunched my tasty raisinbran crunch, which i gotta say is the loudest cereal. If i can be so bold to say that. Me and Lisa, (my girlfriend) woke up and started the day by me blasting Star Wars, a record I bought at a fine record store (Looney Tunes in Boston) I converted it to my IPOD, and wow. we were awake. Something about that loud galaxy sound, really starts your day better then a cup of coffee.

Fast forward: We decided to got to a farmers slash flea market in the south end. It wasn’t bad, there was alot of art, jewelery, and even some vintage records. Vintage isn’t really the word. I mean if Violent Femmes is a vintage record then my beatles records were before the bible. Anyway. So we go to this place, and there are some great shirts, cameras, all old stuff. My friend Nick would of loved this one vendor, he was selling antique model trains. Nick is an old friend of mine, and I will never forget when he punched me in the face for messing with his train set. Anyway. If there was one kid I could punch in the face in my whole life, it wouldnt be him. And believe me there are alot of people I would like to punch in the face, I mean just starting with the people I work with, the list goes on and on. And if you include customers, there would be a whole lot of faces punched.

Where was I? So me being the good boyfriend bought lisa this radical necklace with a record on it. And she returned the favor by buying me a cool tee shirt with an owl on it with headphones on. I decided I would buy lunch. So, we get into the car, and Lisa wants to go to some diner she heard about on the phantom gourmet. Instead, I saw a place, it looked good, and we went in.

I should have known, first off it was next to a homeless shelter, so the clientele was fitting for this place. It was a run down convenience store, with a deli. The place is called the Bostonian Market. I thought to myself, Bostonian Market, sounds authentic. We should go. So we go in. and the atmosphere is really not there. But we decide hey, Boarheads signs, that means they got good meat. I order the Thanksgiving special, and a cup of clam chowder, Lisa orders a reuben. If you dont know what a reuben is its a hot cornbeef sandwich with melted swiss, thousand island dressing, and coldslaw. O.K, so we get our food, and I begin to notice the guy next to us coughing like every ten seconds. Here the guy is in a middle of a cafe, slash convenience store, coughing out his lungs out, while scratching a two dollar bingo ticket. Coughing, with no regard for the people eating right next to him. It was gross, I wanted to yell, Hey, Swine Flu, take it someplace else. So we get our food, and this is what it is. I get a thanksgiving sub probably since thanksgiving. Crushed bread, a little cranberry sauce, two or three slices of turkey, and stuffing. It was disgusting. Lisa’s was even worse, hers was wo slabs of cornbeef, thick slices of swiss, a crushed sub roll, loaded with thousand island dressing.
Not hot. No rye, No coleslaw. Man, I was pissed. I told the guy after words when he charged us 23 dollars for the whole meal, that this place was the worst place I had ever eaten at and Swine Flu guy was coughing the whole time, the subs sucked, the soups sucked. Basically, I told him that the whole meal sucked. He gave me a free ticket for a free lunch. I guess I know where I am going for lunch.

By that time, it was 3:30 and I had to work at four. We got lost, and then I went to work. Work really sucked today. I’ll tell you about it some other time. I wrote down the main ideas for tomorrows blog. Here they are. One I made fun of detroit to a couple from detroit. 2, I got 11. 37 on 88 because the lady rounded up to 100$ She did not understand the idea, that I should have gotten atleast 17 or what we like to call in the business 15 percent. And also there was a minute where I used the word retard to the wrong person. I’ll let you know more about it later.

Don’t be fooled Bostonian Market is not Boston Market, and if you go in there tell Swine Flu he can have my free lunch.

Just another Jagged Thought by Jason.

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in this daydreamlife we live

I quit energy drinks today. I drank a decaf coffee at my local teele square cafe. I went to work. And this is what happened.

I walked outside and in the air, there was hope, a kind simple slug of hope
injected in my blood stream, and my dreams, oh my dreams, would make a million.

I talked to your answering machine, it seemed lonely, I typed these words on the computer screen if only, for the reason

that the sentence starts with I, and ends with You, and in it is a little word that sinks stone hearts, and melts matter together.

I slept and woke up, and i walked outside, breathed in the sunshine, and dropped a dime in the payphone to say come back home.

but the line is never perfectly straight, and in it, there was blank spaces, inbetween salutations.

that said come back home, we miss you. and

in this daydreamlife we live, there are only stones to throw and roses to give. and in a word, in an instant

we are once again kids, where the world has no limit

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12 steps

It’s 2:30 in the afternoon, I just woke up. Came to a realization today, I’m stuck. Stuck in a limbo life, that needs repairing, so much torment in my head that its not worth sharing. But sadness has struck a chord, like last night when I played the wrong song. And in my head, I realize that I am empty, that I guess I don’t belong. In my heart there is blackness like a smile that lacks sincerity, I guess in the end I am bruised internally, losing my head with no sympathy. It’s tough when you drink, and wish you could do more. Its tougher when you have to take 6 pills before you sleep, and more when you wake up and face the world. I know I have a problem, my hands they shake as I write this. Life is a nightmare, probably. When Its over, is there an end that really exists. And am I good enough, to change my head, my heart, and my soul, and everything else? It takes two to lie together, in a heart felt apology, from a broken house. I haven’t quite hit rock bottom, but the time is coming when I do. And all I ask is their forgiveness, for me who was never meant to be you.

Maybe I’m not that bad, just sick of staying stagnant
i guess in the end, its all just fragments of a puzzle,
a broken skull that feels damaged, but with bandages, I’ll be right back at it.

Maybe I’ll kick into high gear, reach my prime, and keep on and kick out the tragic, maybe there is more to me then this hollow shell, of years of mania and madness.

So here it is, mania faced with a drink that can’t be taken, shit, it’s this fool on the hill that makes me feel ill, every weekend leaves me stirred and shaken. I guess the light at the end of the tunnel comes with a message, to leave the world with good intentions, to break the monotony of melodramatics, and come real to the point of no backlashes.

so yeah, i had a bad open mic, maybe drank to much whiskey, maybe it will be better next week, November 30th I’ll try not so tipsey to stop talking on the mic, and come with it naturally and fuck all those people who boo and hiss, I don’t give a shit, its my time to sing twelve lines of a song, that I wrote sober and sang it shit storm. So maybe i shouldn’t dress my name to mean man the storm has no peace for pain. And maybe I should refrain from any substance that enters my brain, be it alcohol caffeine and definitley no weed. No lets try to heal each wound seperately, first goes the drinking, then the wack thinking, then those energy drinks i’m constantly drinking. Then when Im strong enough, I’ll get rid of the nicotine, and scourge my lungs. Yeah 12 steps to improvement. Keep searching for the new you. new job, new shoes, new world, new life. new everything nice, and keep it logged in when ever I write.

Maybe I should read a book, or write one

just another jagged thought by Jason

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Tales of an Unemployed Waiter part 4

“Yes, sir, that was exactly what I was thinking when I put the anchovies on your ceasar salad.” That’s what I said when, a customer last night commented on the position of the anchovies on his ceasar, and how they caused conflict with each other because they were not in a straight line, and one was crooked. He asked if I did that on purpose.

I I.D a customer the other day, who once again was over forty. When he seemed insulted, and his friends laughed at him, He said, “Jesus, I’m over 40.” I slapped him on the back and said “Your doing great!” In hindsight I shouldn’t have done that.

I recieved a great comment the other day. It was a tuesday. Now, usually I don’t receive great comments, in fact my last survey was about the shallow portion of a house insalata and how it wasn’t worth the 2.50 it was worth. But this time, I went out of my way. We don’t serve ketchup at the Tucc. There is really no reason to serve ketchup, because we use tomato sauce and what not. But the other day this customer wanted ketchup for his daughter, and her chicken and rigatoni. When I said we didn’t have any, “We don’t do ketchup here” he seemed upset. So after checking on my table, I thought to myself, “I’m gonna get him some ketchup.” I ran down to the nearest Dunkin Donuts, and grabbed him a handful of ketchup. It went over well. Ketchup goes a long way.

I woke up today and slammed down a 5 hour energy drink. Tonight, I have an open mic, and I should pay my bills, and also look for a job. yeah, thats about it. I might even write another blog today.

Thats about it, nothing new to report, except the anchovies, the ID and the Ketchup.

What if the guy asked for ketchup for his over 40 daughter who asked for anchovies for his ceasar in conflict? That would be one hell of a story.

Just another Jagged Thought by Jason.