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Walking in Traffic

today i feel like walking in traffic. I see the signs like this is a bad idea. The stop lights gravitate towards me. I feel like this is a bad idea. The cars rush past me, and I walk that white line. I stop at each crossroad and let the mothers with their baby carriages pass freely. I feel like traffic. Like rush hour traffic, the kind of traffic where noone moves. I sit in my car, and wait for the next light, next green light. Soon we all turn yellow. Then finally red. Why can’t we be green? Some of you are movers and shakers, you drive the fast lane. You take chances, you drink coffee spilling it on your suit, as you cut me off and flip me the bird. And then there are those in the slow lane either stoned or old. They are fiddling with the radio dials, they are sipping their beverage from the store. They are chewing on their gums. The old grip the steering wheel thinking about how scary it is to be old. They look small while they wander in their minds about where the last 40 years had gone. They look nervous. Then there are the slow going stoners, with approachable bumperstickers, listening to the NPR or the indie/pop/rock/hip-hop/thrash/punk/jazz/classical music they have on their ipod/cd player/tape player/head. They slowly drive with full throttle thoughts. Then there are those in the middle lane. They want to go slow, they want to go fast. They get mad, they get sad, the middle line is the emotion of the road. They drive fast, but slow, haven’t quite picked the right road. Then there’s me, walking.

I want to drive fast, I want to drive slow, and I want to own a car. I want the slow lane life, while driving in the fast lane life. I want it all, but I must stop, tie my shoe, and wait for the bus. The bus life, that’s where my people ride. We are hardworking, we are downtrodden, we are pregnant, we are the bus riders, we are old, young, and can afford a bus pass, waiting to get in that middle lane, so we can make a decision.

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Sense Saves A Life Chapter 10 and 11

Chapter 10

Before we go any further we should first examine Clara, not as Sense saw Clara, but as Clara saw herself. Sense knew little about the secrets that Clara hid from him. Clara had a normal upbringing in Stanford, Connecticut. She was one of three sisters. Her father always wanted a boy, and showed distaste for her existence. Her mother saw this as tough love, and was already involved heavily in an extramarital affair, one with the local pastor in her town, and the other with heavy amounts of alcohol. Her favorite drink of choice was a Cosmopolitan, though Clara’s mother drank anything that was put in front of her. Clara’s mother and father fought a lot, while Clara, her sister Danielle, and her other sister Matty, were as usual left to their own devices. Clara was the middle child of the three. Matty was the oldest, her birth name not being Matty, but Madeline, And Clara’s father’s obsession with wanting a boy, her name soon became Matty. Matty was seven years older than Clara, which made her detached from Clara and Danielle. Danielle was only seven minutes apart in age from Clara. Which made her and Clara close, very close, yet their parents couldn’t seem to care less. Clara and Danielle were alone in a family of alcohol, abuse, and adultery. And they had no idea at all.
They had no idea. The town had no idea, The Clergy had no idea,. Everyone in town were too busy to see Clara’s so called family. In the town of Stanford, which was a pretty well to do town, at least in the 80’s during the formative years of Clara’s upbringing. Her father had a good job as a dentist, and even served as a selectman, for a few years, Clara’s mother worked for the court system as a stenographer, and on the outside things looked good. But as Clara grew up, the family seemed to fall apart, and then everything changed it seemed overnight. And that was why Clara, found herself, one day in Sense’s class, a long way from Stanford, in the small town, where a school would burn, and ten years later Sense would save a life.

Chapter 11.

Sense dragged himself off the front steps of his apartment, and felt the cold, the cold feeling like he was being watched. He walked back in and saw the time on his watch. It was 7:45, the exact time that Sense would pull a few bong rips, and then walk down to the common. When Sense was in high school the library was his sanctuary but after he graduated, and his mental health failed, Sense would go to the common, and play his guitar, or write poems under the night sky. The common had an unusual glow to it, like it was made for thinkers, to sit on it’s lonely steps and pass the time staring at the night sky. There were hardly anyone ever there, and this made Sense feel comfortable, as he would watch the stars and strum lonely songs, with his bandaged heart and six string guitar.
Today Sense had a lot on his mind, as he grabbed his guitar and headed down to the common. It was colder than usual for a September night, and that made Sense feel good. The colder it was the less chances of anyone bothering him, as he strummed along to the stars, and the disagreeable lights that lit the common path. As Sense reached the common, he marveled at the feeling of cold and the bright sky. He sat down on the commons steps, lit a cigarette, and that began his evening at the common, where Sense would write the most moving and memorable song he had ever written, and by the end of it, he would meet an old friend, a troubled soul who would listen to Senses new song, and offer Sense a ride home. A new home.

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Sense Saves A Life, Chapter 8 and 9

Chapter 8

As Sense stared at the flowers in the crystal vase, he tried to turn on his T.V but realized it was broken. Then a funny thing happened, the T.V turned on by itself. It was distorted but it was something unusual. The screen flashed black and white, and there appeared something odd. It showed what looked like a carousel of bright black and white horses, gleaming in the static. Sense watched as they twirled around, and then that song came on. It was Bobby Darin, It was Somewhere Beyond the Sea. It was happening again. What was this nightmare that Sense was seeing over and over again. The picture grew even more distorted and he began to hear laughter like the laughter on the other end of the phone. It sounded happy, like two lovers and there were the sounds of sea gulls. Sea gulls, and love, and carousels. This happiness was only short lived until, the screen went black and the laughter turned to screams.
Sense turned the T.V off. He was shaken, but he maintained his composure, as he unplugged the T.V, put on his hat, cause it was cold, and walked outside. He sat on his steps outside of his apartment, his head swimming; it was 5:15. He sat down on his steps, and took out a cigarette. He lit the cigarette, inhaled, and the smoke billowed into the air. And for a second Sense felt alright. He zipped up his hooded jacket. and his hands didn’t feel so numb as he put his hands in his pockets. Sense sat there a minute trying to think what actually was happening. So many thoughts running through his head, the phone calls, the love letters, the crystal vase. Who had been in his apartment?
Then he remembered something he hadn’t thought about in a long time. It might have seemed like Clara’s first conversation with Sense could have been his last with her, but there rough start actually became something more with a brisk apology from Clara. But it didn’t happen over night.

Chapter 9

A couple days after Sense’s first account with Clara, he found himself back in the library. He was reading the last page of Great Expectations.
“Eh”he said as he read the last page.
He was interrupted again…by Clara.
“Hey I was a total bitch the other day.”
“Yeah. What?”
“Yeah, That’s my apology.”
“Cool you can keep your apology,”
Sense walked away, as Sense was walking away, Clara grabbed his arm, and dragged him close to her. She gave him an intense kiss, and said “Hey, do you except it or not?”
Sense immediately accepted her apology. And that was that, that was the beginning of what was a tumultuous and ultimately heartbreaking relationship.

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Shutter Island, Lost and Wardrobe Malfunctions

I woke up early today, Saturday March 6th. Feel pretty good, and feel like I should share something with you. I haven’t written in my blog in a while, and so many things have happened. Like one, I saw Shutter Island. It was decent. Two. I have many new theories about LOST. They are quite interesting. Three. I have had a number of wardrobe malfunctions at work. That’s something right there. Four. Pat schooled me in basketball, but that’s something entirely different. Five, Been going to the gym more, eating healthy. Alright, so let’s get to it.

Shutter Island.
First off, Shutter Island wasn’t at all what I expected. I’m not even sure if I liked it. The first time I tried to see it, I had eaten a ton of mussels at Legal Seafood, and sitting down at the AMC in Burlington, I began to feel sick, and ended up throwing up in the bathroom. Now I can’t even think about mussels without wanting to puke. Me and Lisa got our money back, and after feeling gross for the rest of the night, we went to see it in Dedham the next afternoon.

So your asking yourself, enough about mussels, How was the movie?? Now I am not one to spoil anyone’s high on seeing Shutter Island. But you asked, so here we go. Leonardo DiCaprio, can’t grow a full beard. He has patchy skin like mine. I didn’t really appreciate his Boston accent. It sounded too forced. Also, I knew halfway through the movie, what the outcome would be. He started acting crazy. It was simple, but effective. So, without giving too much away, Leonardo DiCaprio is a mental patient, where everything has been completely set up for him, a test to see if he is crazy. I knew he was, for trying to fake a Boston accent. His doctor is his partner and is a Federal Marshall. Oh, and Leonardo was so clever that his name is an anagram for someone else. The movie was garbage. No what though? See Moon with Sam Rockwell that movie will blow your mind. And after watch The Invention of Lying with Ricky Gervais. That movie will tickle your funny bone. And no one tries to fake a Boston accent. (Although The Invention of Lying is filmed in the Boston area, and Moon is of course filmed on location.)

Quick thoughts about LOST.

First off when you have nothing to say to a table try bringing up LOST, if your table like’s LOST, your tip will go up ten percent. When you have nothing to say to co-workers bring up LOST, they will instantly find you interesting, with the rugged good looks of Sawyer, and the sense of John Locke and the stoner lovability of Hurley. Both table and coworker will find you have one of these traits. LOST unites people, you could talk to anyone about LOST. You know why? Because everyone has a theory. Honest to God though, I think my girlfriend has the best theory on LOST. It made me shiver, not really, but its a great theory. It has to do with the sideways reality and Locke. I won’t spoil it for you, but if you comment back asking “Hey, Jason what the deal, tell me about Lost.” Then I will be glad to blow your effin’ mind.

Alright, we talked about Shutter Island, and Lost, even mentioned Moon, and Leo’s fake Boston accent. On to wardrobe malfunctions.

O.k so I have worn three pairs of pants religiously at the Tucc. First off were the Dickies, they held for quite a long time. I began to notice that they were completely wripped at the bottom, and the were going to split eventually. So, then I bought a new pair of pants, at TJMAX. If you recall, in an older blog post PUNKS AND PUKING, that there were obvious reasons why I bought them. Anway, they started to split down the side of the pants. My manager said it was time to get new pants, because he could see exactly what color my boxer shorts were that day. On that day they were white boxers. Anyway, so then I had to get a new pair of pants. These pants I got at KOHL’S, and they were expensive marked down from 50 to 30. Not very good material though, because last Thursday at work, after talking to a customer about Lost, (which upped my tip percentage as stated before) I kneeled down to tie my shoe, and heard a rip. Not a big deal, I thought it was just my boxer shorts. Little did I know, that it began to open the crotch open like a woman giving birth. That was fine though, I continued on with my day. Then while I was doing side work, I was once again crouching in the kitchen putting plates away in the salad refrigerator when Jose the dishwasher walked past me and I slipped and my pants completely split open, all the way. I looked like I got mauled by a doberman pinscher. I left work early after showing my boss proof, that I couldn’t work because of the draft down below. I ended up leaving calling a cab, and talking to the Cabby about how my day was, which was good and ended up with me inevitably splitting my pants. Yeah. That’s not it though. The next day I went to Walmart to buy a pair of Dickies, so no one would see my ballsies. But apparently I have grown in size in the old gut, and bought a size too small. So when the day came to go to work. I wore my least wripped pair of pants, but noticed that the zipper was broken. The whole walk to the T that day was drafty. If there is one thing to say about Pants, I mean fully operational pants, that they give you comfort knowing that your safe, secure, zipped up, and ready to face the day. Well Lisa ended up bringing a new pair of pants to work that night for me, and that is only one of many reasons I love her.

Last but not least, Pat whooped me in basketball the other day, but I was under the weather. REMATCH!!