tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-292780272024-03-07T06:06:34.957-08:00fifty-two fridaysreflectionsPatrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.comBlogger482125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-83226761061444689402015-04-10T23:24:00.000-07:002015-04-10T23:24:02.443-07:00week 52: warrior<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">it is, perhaps, fitting that after putting this post off for several weeks that i should be writing the closing entry of volume 4 tonight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">three years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">three years ago last friday night i ended a 12 year long drinking binge, not with a bang (as i has secretly expected) but a whisper. in this case the whisper being a glass of cheap riesling </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">at the end of a family dinner. usually, i tried to keep my drinking light at such occasions, preferring to go home afterwards to the vodka i had waiting for me. i know that i </span></span><span style="line-height: 20px;">wasn't</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"> fooling anyone, i mostly just didn't want to make things more obvious than i needed to.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">in the months approaching the last glass i had become sick, physically, i thought i was dying - cancer or something - and had begun preparing for what i thought was the last few pages of my story. i was saying goodbye as best i could without actually saying the words. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">that night three years ago i went home, poured myself a drink and was sick before it touched my lips. then, the pain began.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">it was unlike anything i had felt before, a doctor described it as: "if someone were to straighten out a coat hanger, heat it over flame until it was white hot, and the stab it into one's abdomen." i agree with that </span></span></span><span style="line-height: 20px;">description.</span></div>
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three years ago tonight i was laying either in my bed or on the bathroom floor unable to vomit anymore, unable to remember what it felt like to not be in pain, it was like i existed only as a small singularity of agony, where it was excruciating to move or even breathe.</div>
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three years ago tomorrow, on easter, i nearly died.</div>
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it took a week of icu care to get me to a point where i could go home to convalesce for several more pain filled weeks.</div>
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i have talked about that time here before, there are stories i haven't yet shared about that experience, ones that i may or may not decide to share in the future.</div>
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like so many of things that i was sure i knew, i was, unsurprisingly, wrong. the end that i had anticipated, was not the final pages but the beginning of the next chapter.</div>
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today, three years later, i am living a life i never imagined. not necessarily because it's all awesome and perfect, but because i had never bother to before.</div>
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there are things that i have learned, things that i am learning - long overdue and still slowly in many cases - things like i don't have to make the some mistakes over and over, that learning from others' experiences can be as enlightening (and far less expensive) than putting myself through them hoping i could somehow do better. </div>
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things like so many of the things that i never thought i would get over were many of those things that i was unwilling to let go. </div>
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that one is perhaps the simplest, most obvious, and difficult concept that i've come to understand, and has been and likely will be one that i will struggle with for as long as it takes to accept as fully as i can, one that i hope will become easier with time and practice.</div>
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so i close another chapter, this volume 4. it has taken me nearly nine years of writing here to get four years of posts, but considering my track record of following through with things i find it to be rather impressive.</div>
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i want to thank those of you who have continued to visit, to read and share this project. i look forward to sharing another year of my life with you in volume 5.</div>
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i have no idea what the future holds, but i hope face it with open eyes, an open mind and a heart that can stand the potential pain of being broken as the price for all of that i have yet to experience.</div>
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one of the things i think i have enjoyed the most about this project is writing these posts, usually with music playing and sometimes with my eyes closed, like im playing a piano. sometimes, these entries feel like they are the ends of television episodes or movies, maybe isn't the best way to compare it - small deaths come kind of close as well, or maybe like the last conversation you have with a loved one.</div>
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its hard explain and i don't know how to really express it better, i think i will let the following try and do it better than i can right now.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">After the storm - Mumford & Sons</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">And after the storm, </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">I run and run as the rains come</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">And I look up, I look up,<br />on my knees and out of luck,<br />I look up.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">Night has always pushed up day<br />You must know life to see decay<br />But I won't rot, I won't rot<br />Not this mind and not this heart,<br />I won't rot.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">And I took you by the hand<br />And we stood tall,<br />And remembered our own land,<br />What we lived for.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.<br />And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.<br />Get over your hill and see what you find there,<br />With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">And now I cling to what I knew<br />I saw exactly what was true<br />But oh no more.<br />That's why I hold,<br />That's why I hold with all I have.<br />That's why I hold.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">And I won't die alone and be left there.<br />Well I guess I'll just go home,<br />Oh God knows where.<br />Because death is just so full and man so small.<br />Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.<br />And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.<br />Get over your hill and see what you find there,<br />With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.<br />And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.<br />Get over your hill and see what you find there,<br />With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.</span></div>
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-5951739580496555212015-03-07T14:02:00.001-08:002015-03-07T14:02:07.036-08:00week 51: path<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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last week i met the newest addition to my family, Benjamin, my nephew.<br />
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i mentioned in the last post, the "long road", the path the decisions i made in life and where they led me. i know it sounds cliche but i really didn't make any plans past thirty, had i been correct, had i not made some changes, those things, those blessings in my life that i have experienced would never have happened. this path i've chosen isn't always so easy, i have to actually work through things i'd rather avoid or run from, but i'm finding more and more that the only way out is through and that the rewards for participating in life versus killing time between sleep or intoxication are legon/<br />
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it struck home, again, last week - in one those moments, i got to hold a brand new person, who will never (hopefully) see me drunk, who will never know a world without internet or cellphones, an infant who very well could be alive at the turn of the next century.<br />
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and his fingers are so tiny.</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-66531539940928916972015-02-19T12:17:00.004-08:002015-02-19T12:17:56.702-08:00week 50: sleep<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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the last time i wrote about this topic, it was 2011. So much has changed in my life since then, you can view that post <a href="http://52fridays.blogspot.com/2011/06/week-17-asleep.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Sleep has always been difficult for me, for years i did with little, later i drank until i was able to pass out. these days i try to do my best to get what i can, without the aid of substances. it still comes with great difficulty.<br />
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going back and reading the 2011 post really shows how unhealthy everything was, and how amazing it was that i wouldn't let myself acknowledge that, perhaps i should say, rather, that i am amazed by how resigned i was to where i was and the relatively short path on which i was heading.<br />
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some things don't change, i still see sleep as a preparation for death, and although i have no real reason to believe it, i have come to hope that when we die, we get to live in the best moments of our lives, which would be incentive enough to try and accrue as many of those moments as we can, i could see how not having any of those moment would be something akin to hell, to move on and be stuck in that misery forever.<br />
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i've thought about this a lot over the years. as i am getting older i have begun to lose people, some - like my grandparents are bittersweet, i miss them, but they had long and happy lives. my father, who decided to pack it in, did so at a time when i was too young. and i have had friends, my age, who have died for some reason or another, all of these i pray for every night before i fall asleep.<br />
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this has been a long road, there have been many changes in my life since i began this whole thing back in 2006. another volume is coming to a close, i'm in the process of deciding what to do with this project, if it has run it's course or should move on to volume five.<br />
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anyway.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px; text-align: center;">I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab for Cutie</span></div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px; text-align: left;">
<br />Love of mine, some day you will die</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px; text-align: left;">
But I'll be close behind</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px; text-align: left;">
I'll follow you into the dark</div>
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No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white</div>
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Just our hands clasped so tight</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px; text-align: left;">
Waiting for the hint of a spark</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
If Heaven and Hell decide</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
That they both are satisfied</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Illuminate the "No"'s on their vacancy signs</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
If there's no one beside you</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
When your soul embarks</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Then I'll follow you into the dark</div>
</span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
And I held my tongue as she told me,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
"Son, fear is the heart of love."</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
So I never went back</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
If Heaven and Hell decide</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
That they both are satisfied</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Illuminate the "No"'s on their vacancy signs</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
If there's no one beside you</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
When your soul embarks</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Then I'll follow you into the dark</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
You and me have seen everything to see</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
From Bangkok to Calgary</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
The time for sleep is now</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
It's nothing to cry about</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
'Cause we'll hold each other soon</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
In the blackest of rooms</div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
If Heaven and Hell decide</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
That they both are satisfied</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Illuminate the "No"'s on their vacancy signs</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
If there's no one beside you</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
When your soul embarks</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Then I'll follow you into the dark</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4399995803833px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Then I'll follow you into the dark</div>
</span></div>
</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-70875031540046728042015-02-19T11:58:00.003-08:002015-02-19T11:58:56.116-08:00week 49: noise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
just a little thing i did for the woman i love</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-33596751568605661952015-01-08T14:10:00.001-08:002015-01-09T03:17:33.331-08:00week 48: invention<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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the pen, or pencil... proof that they are, or can, be mightier than the sword. So much so that oppression resort to fighting them with guns and bullets - and they still lose.</div>
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this isn't a holy war.<br />
don't bring God into this, <br />
<b>this is fucking murder.<span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span></b></div>
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earlier this week in paris:</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">Wednesday, a black Citroen C3 drove up to the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"> </span><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-15551998" style="background-color: white; color: #4a7194; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;">Charlie Hebdo</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">building in Rue Nicolas-Appert. Two masked gunmen, dressed in black and armed with Kalashnikov assault rifles got out and approached the offices.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">They burst into number 6, Rue Nicolas-Appert, before realising they had the wrong address. They then moved down the street to number 10 - where the Charlie Hebdo offices are on the second floor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Once inside, the men asked maintenance staff in reception where the magazine's offices were, before shooting caretaker Frederic Boisseau, 42.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the magazine's cartoonists, <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-30720706" style="color: #4a7194; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;">Corinne Rey</a>, described how she had just returned to the building after picking up her daughter from day care when the gunmen threatened her, forcing her to enter the code for the keypad entry to the newsroom on the second floor - where a weekly editorial meeting was taking place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The men asked for the paper's editor Stephane Charbonnier, known as Charb, by name before opening fire and killing the editor and his police bodyguard, Franck Brinsolaro. They also shot dead seven other journalists and a guest attending the meeting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Witnesses said they heard the gunmen shouting "We have avenged the Prophet Muhammad" and "God is Greatest" in Arabic ("Allahu Akbar") while calling out the names of the journalists.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Twelve people were killed in the attack on the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-15551998" style="color: #4a7194; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;">Charlie Hebdo</a> offices: eight journalists, two police officers, a caretaker and a visitor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><img alt="From left: Economist Bernard Maris, cartoonists Georges Wolinski, Jean "Cabu" Cabut, Stephane "Charb" Charbonnier, Bernard "Tignous" Verlhac and Philippe Honore and Michel Renaud." src="http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/media/images/80135000/jpg/_80135781_7victimsafp624.jpg" height="110" style="-webkit-user-select: none; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; letter-spacing: 0px; position: relative;" width="624" /></span></span><span style="display: block; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">From left: Economist Bernard Maris, cartoonists Georges Wolinski, Jean "Cabu" Cabut, Stephane "Charb" Charbonnier, Bernard "Tignous" Verlhac and Philippe Honore and Michel Renaud.</span></span></div>
<ul style="background-color: white; color: #505050; line-height: 16px; list-style: none; margin: 0px 0px 16px; padding: 0px;">
<li style="background-image: url(http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/view/3_0_21/cream/hi/shared/img/story_sprite.gif); background-position: -1200px 5px; background-repeat: no-repeat; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 16px; text-rendering: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Charlie Hebdo editor and cartoonist Stephane "Charb" Charbonnier, 47, who had been living under police protection since receiving death threats</span></li>
<li style="background-image: url(http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/view/3_0_21/cream/hi/shared/img/story_sprite.gif); background-position: -1200px 5px; background-repeat: no-repeat; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 16px; text-rendering: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cartoonists Jean "Cabu" Cabut, 76, Bernard "Tignous" Verlhac, 57, Georges Wolinski, 80, and Philippe Honore, 73</span></li>
<li style="background-image: url(http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/view/3_0_21/cream/hi/shared/img/story_sprite.gif); background-position: -1200px 5px; background-repeat: no-repeat; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 16px; text-rendering: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Economist and regular magazine columnist Bernard Maris, 68, known to readers as Uncle Bernar</span></li>
<li style="background-image: url(http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/view/3_0_21/cream/hi/shared/img/story_sprite.gif); background-position: -1200px 5px; background-repeat: no-repeat; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 16px; text-rendering: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mustapha Ourrad, proof-reader</span></li>
<li style="background-image: url(http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/view/3_0_21/cream/hi/shared/img/story_sprite.gif); background-position: -1200px 5px; background-repeat: no-repeat; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 16px; text-rendering: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Elsa Cayat, psychoanalyst and columnist, the only woman killed</span></li>
<li style="background-image: url(http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/view/3_0_21/cream/hi/shared/img/story_sprite.gif); background-position: -1200px 5px; background-repeat: no-repeat; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 16px; text-rendering: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Michel Renaud, who was visiting from the city of Clermont-Ferrand</span></li>
<li style="background-image: url(http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/view/3_0_21/cream/hi/shared/img/story_sprite.gif); background-position: -1200px 5px; background-repeat: no-repeat; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 16px; text-rendering: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Frederic Boisseau, 42, caretaker, who was in the reception area at the time of the attack</span></li>
<li style="background-image: url(http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/view/3_0_21/cream/hi/shared/img/story_sprite.gif); background-position: -1200px 5px; background-repeat: no-repeat; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 16px; text-rendering: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Police officers Franck Brinsolaro, who acted as Charb's bodyguard, and Ahmed Merabet, 42, who was shot dead while on the ground</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"><br />from <a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_1287618739">w</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><a href="http://ww.bbc.com/">ww.bbc.com</a></span></span><div style="color: black; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 18px;"><i style="line-height: normal;">-please feel free to use these icons for your personal use in support of freedom of expression and in memory of Charlie Hebdo and the eleven others who lost their lives.-</i></span></div>
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<strike><span style="font-size: xx-small;">come back tomorrow for the text entry for this weeks post, i have a lot of things that i plan on writing about and only twenty minutes to get to work.</span></strike><br />
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i haven't been to the ocean in a long time. even when i lived in san francisco, i rarely went. in retrospect it strikes me as a little odd that there was so much to do and see and i didn't take the opportunity to make the most of them. i may be getting a little ahead of myself here though.</div>
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those times i have stood on the shores of the ocean i have been moved in a way that i can only describe as religious, i mean not exactly that, but the way that i get the feeling some people get when they talk about god. there in front of me is something so vast, so powerful, that i am overwhelmed by it's enormity, and for some reason i am affected by this in a way that even the endless night sky fails to impress.</div>
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a few days ago i had one of those moments where something in my universe shifts by a degree and things come into focus, i was able to see or at least begin to articulate something that i have danced around for as long as i've been writing in this blog. it is the beginning of a lesson that has taken me nearly thirty-six years to learn and has been part of most of the problems i have created for myself over my life.</div>
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that the fear of the enormity of choice, of commitment, of perfection has kept me from truly trying.</div>
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i'm not sure if i'm really using the right words here but its like the idea of what i think i should be capable of and failing that ideal, opting out. to quit or surrender without putting forth my best effort because i "know" it won't be what "think" it should be... </div>
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i think what i mean is that essentially i have been so afraid of what might or what ought that i have <strike>missed out</strike> kept myself from experiencing what is, and what might have been if i had just tried.</div>
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i'm not sitting here bemoaning the loss like i have done all those years, i just acknowledge that i might have made more out of those years. what is important is that i can make a decision to make the most of the years i have ahead.</div>
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i have been so selfish, so afraid, so afraid.</div>
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it has been several months since my last post here, in that time i have found employment, i have returned to school to finish my degree, i have built a relationship with myself, with those that i love.</div>
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and yes it can be hard.</div>
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earlier this week i was working on a final project and was not nearly as done as i wanted to be. i simply got as much as i could finished and went to class the next day, turned it in, and am waiting on the results. i know that this might sound like no big deal, and maybe it isn't, but in the past id have medicated, not gone to class, not turned in a project that wasn't some perfect polished and unrealistically ambitious product.</div>
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the point is that i chose to participate, i didn't shut down, close off and give up.</div>
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and for me that is something that would have been as alien to me as would be breathing water.</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">These songs </span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;">aren't</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> hidden messages, at least not intentionally, these songs are reminders to myself to let myself, well. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">These remind me that i have wasted enough time not letting myself live.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"Love is not determined in the distance of flesh but in the position of the heart. Mine will always be with you."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="border: 0px none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">"We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow" - Soko</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Give me all your love now<br />'Cause for all we know<br />We might be dead by tomorrow<br />I can't go on wasting my time<br />Adding scars to my heart<br />'Cause all I hear is<br />"I'm not ready now"<br />And I can tell<br />That you didn't had<br />To face your mother<br />Losing her lover<br />Without saying goodbye<br />Without saying goodbye<br />'Cause she didn't had time<br />I don't want to judge<br />What's in your heart<br />But if you're not ready for love<br />How can you be ready for life?<br />How can you be ready for life?<br />So let's love fully<br />And let's love loud<br />Let's love now<br />'Cause soon enough we'll die</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><br /><div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="border: 0px none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">"The Book Of Love" - The M</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; line-height: 16px; white-space: nowrap;">agnetic Fields</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The book of love is long and boring </span></span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">No one can lift the damn thing </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">It's full of charts and facts and figures </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">and instructions for dancing </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">but I, I love it when you read to me </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">and you, you can read me anything </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">The book of love has music in it </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">In fact that's where music comes from </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Some of it is just transcendental </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Some of it is just really dumb </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">but I, I love it when you sing to me </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">and you, you can sing me anything</span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">The book of love is long and boring </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">and written very long ago </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">and things we're all too young to know </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">but I, I love it when you give me things </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">and you,<br />you ought to give me wedding rings </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">I, I love it when you give me things </span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">and you,<br />you ought to give me wedding rings</span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">applewood asiago and bleu</span></span></h2>
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-55283614078907864052014-07-10T03:05:00.000-07:002014-07-10T03:12:14.691-07:00week 46: fragile<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">for as long as i can remember i have lived in fear. i have reacted to every new crisis, challenge, or consequence, that has presented itself in my life. i know that i am not unique in this, but the point is that instead of assessing the situation, consider my options, and make an informed plan of action i have basically jumped from one frying pan into another, after another, and eventually into the fire, where, once there, proceeded in running around in circles spreading flames around as i panicked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">there have been many things that i have come to learn over the past few years - one being that there are things that i no longer have the luxury of indulging anymore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">the fragile balance between hope and despair, the urge to quit when things dont work out as i had expected. immersing myself in my depression, nurturing the ennui and dystopic world view i had come to expect every time i woke up or ran out of drink. heh, even that isn't entirely accurate either - those same attitudes were there in my dreams and in my cups.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">i find myself fighting these old mindsets, mindsets that helped me cope with life, kept me alive - until eventually nearly killing me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">its like dragging a shadow, or carrying around a half shed skin, and the part underneath - me - is soft and and hasn't been exposed to anyone like this in over twenty years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">so small steps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">the depression probably will never go away but i can try to work my through those times without wallowing in it, perseverance, in things (important things anyway) that are not always easy, and might take a lot of work to realize.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">i can hold a hand and know that it's no longer the had a drowning man grips to in desperate fear for his life, but a hand of an equal - one that can be warm and loving and occasionally lends support to keep me steady, and to know that my hand is doing the same for her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">i no longer want to fix or save, but listen and assist as requested.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">it's a lot of things really.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">but i can't be fragile anymore, i cant fall apart anymore. i need to be that person i was meant to be. i have seen parts of him over the years and i know that those times where i felt any sort of pride in myself it was that "me" showing through.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="border: 0px none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">That's What's Up </b></span><b style="border: 0px none; font-family: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">- Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'll be the church, you be the steeple.<br />You be the King, I'll be the people.<br />While I was feeling such a mess, I thought you'd leave me behind.<br />While I was being such a wreck, I thought you'd treat me unkind.<br />But you helped me change my mind.<br />I'll be the sun, you be the shining.<br />You be the clock, I'll be the timing.<br />While I was feeling such a mess, I thought you'd leave me behind.<br />While I was feeling so upset, I thought the sun never shine.<br />Then I found Forever<br />Hey! Hey! love!<br />We've been best friends forever darling.<br />That's' what's up!<br />Forever!<br />No matter what!<br />You've got my love to lean on darling.<br />That's what's up!<br />You've got my love to lean on darling.<br />No matter what!<br />You be the book, I'll be the binding.<br />You be the words, I'll be the rhyming.<br />While I was feeling such a wreck, I thought of losing my mind.<br />While I was feeling such a mess, I thought the sun never shine.<br />You be the bird, I'll be the feather.<br />We'll be the best of friends forever.<br />While I was feeling such a mess I thought you'd leave me behind.<br />When I was feeling such a wreck, I thought you'd treat me unkind.<br />Then I found<br />Forever! And Always!<br />You've got my love to lean on darling.<br />All the days!<br />Forever!<br />Come with me!<br />You've got my love to lean on darling.<br />All the days!<br />You've got my love to lean on darling.<br />All the days<br />All of our days<br />Yeah...<br />Love is a shelter.<br />Love is a cause.<br />Love goes on forever.<br />Yeah, Love will leads us all.<br />Love! It is our honor.<br />Love! It is our all.<br />Love goes on forever.<br />Yeah, Love it is our home.<br />Oh yeah!<br />Yeah! That's what's up!<br />Oh yeah!<br />That's what's up!<br />Yeah That's what's up!</span><br />
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video <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sj0Ha7Xkw7Y" target="_blank">here</a><br />
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video Lennon and Maisy cover <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0-Mr2pmuad4" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-71473942089118215782014-07-02T21:01:00.002-07:002014-07-03T21:26:05.141-07:00week 45: summer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDc3eXtKH1hQvs8904m7_p0almxOvCi8MqyTgEzhJDJQDpw0h8IQYFxP49UbSx-TnP9nDu3IlBCPZVoE7AIzkkY-R_XEhsv3zzb9qHC3PP5WgXb3lHnHoU9aarEMjYOaTWKRh1/s1600/summer+final+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDc3eXtKH1hQvs8904m7_p0almxOvCi8MqyTgEzhJDJQDpw0h8IQYFxP49UbSx-TnP9nDu3IlBCPZVoE7AIzkkY-R_XEhsv3zzb9qHC3PP5WgXb3lHnHoU9aarEMjYOaTWKRh1/s1600/summer+final+small.jpg" /></a></div>
when i think of summer, i think of many things. heat, for one, outdoors, longer days, barbeques, and that one color of blue that i only really see a few weeks out of a year at sunset. i think that i have mentioned that color in these posts before, so ill spare you the repetition.<br />
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i have been processing a lot lately. reconciling my past and looking towards the future. summer also brings to mind some unfortunate memories as well.<br />
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when i was around five or so my family moved from the bay area to fresno. i hated it. i had to leave my friends and the neighbors (Ruthie, Janie, and Al) next door behind and start kindergarten with strange kids in a strange place.<br />
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it was also the first time i really remember the weather. fresno tends to skew towards the extremes, cold and foggy in the winter and hot as hell in the summer. for those of you who have spent time on the peninsula, you know that the weather pretty much as one setting and that is more or less cold.<br />
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it was in fresno that i learned how to swim.<br />
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i don't know why my father did things the way he did, how his choices and methods could be justified in his head, or if he even bothered at all. i wish i could say that there were memories i have that illustrated any admirable qualities he may have had, but i don't. honestly, i have spent a lot of time going back and searching for happy memories that involved him and i came up blank.<br />
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what i remember most is fear.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvH1HDPXqlNKATRJtkrJoHaZeYsPosRYElygIuZ3Qga8jA0AMjDR47CWU7-EVC2SpO2EJPY4cePQe9IldhHLQjxa7nmx7c2jMZPMv0x54PTO12ERn2Hv3a15VrncK3S95DwjJ/s1600/summer+thrown+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvH1HDPXqlNKATRJtkrJoHaZeYsPosRYElygIuZ3Qga8jA0AMjDR47CWU7-EVC2SpO2EJPY4cePQe9IldhHLQjxa7nmx7c2jMZPMv0x54PTO12ERn2Hv3a15VrncK3S95DwjJ/s1600/summer+thrown+02.jpg" /></a></div>
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for whatever reason he decided that he was going to teach me how to swim. his approach was to hold me under water, throw me into the deep end, let go when i wasnt ready. i hated the pool, it was a source of anxiety, terror actually.<br />
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it got to be so that i would start panicing when i heard the theme song of different strokes on the television - i remember that clearly - and would search for a new place to hide. i knew that he come home from work around the time that show aired and it became a sort of pavlovian response. it was so bad that my mother (who had tried to intervene) began to send me to friends houses before dinner, that hour or two when he would want to jump into the water, grabbing hold of me and swimming to the bottom and just stay there until i felt like i was going to drown. kicking and screaming for help from mom or god or anyone as he pried me off the security gate and pulled me into the water.<br />
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more than anything it is the smell of the pollen, this sort of buttery smell, from one of the trees that takes me back there the most.<br />
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in a way though, he achieved his goal (probably not in the way he had intended) and not only did i learn to swim, i became a very strong swimmer after he left. i was helpless and i hated that feeling so much that it drove me to hold my breath longer, swim a little deeper, tread water until i felt like my arms were going to fall off. all of that so that one day, if i ever wound up in a pool with him again i would not only be able to endure whatever twisted lesson he wanted to teach but maybe teach him a lesson as well.<br />
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i never got that chance.<br />
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what i did learn from him has been mostly good examples of how not do things.<br />
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so this summer, two nights ago, after a lot of writing and meditation i went outside and sat on the driveway and i had my last conversation with my father. i told him that i forgave him for all of the horrible things he did (the swimming lessons were nothing when compared) but that i don't think i will ever forget. i told him that i no longer want to hold onto that part of my past because it has been one of those things that has kept me from having a future. that i hoped he found the peace he couldn't find in life and that i was done with him.<br />
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it was a beautiful night. it was water warm and a breeze that occasionally picked up enough to muss my hair. and when i was done talking - i lay there and looked up at the stars.<br />
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fresno, in the summer, was the first time i remember really noticing them.<br />
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edit: here is a picture from that summer - me with pepper.<br />
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-28622659049447291902014-06-25T10:57:00.003-07:002014-06-25T10:57:36.664-07:00week 44: mask<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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i know, i know. it has been a while since the my last post. there have been several things that have been taking up my time and energy and inspiration has been somewhat - less - forthcoming than it has been in in in some time. this is not to say that i haven't been productive, i have been talking to school to see if i can finish my degree, i have been looking for work - aggressively - among other things. basically i've been working on becoming an adult, even if it has been past due for a considerable amount of time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNCiYA3OVfuaGuQTYyCqzi_F__shKiyDFKRNBLhMNMlq_1_xFpBPyg9J-vplVC4tE0RPv9UTMEf4Os-b7LWcueYKAbXrYKWMLzSLM0s4AM9qEzVTyYKC6ZIXSV-qWUyeSFMDD/s1600/mask+final+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNCiYA3OVfuaGuQTYyCqzi_F__shKiyDFKRNBLhMNMlq_1_xFpBPyg9J-vplVC4tE0RPv9UTMEf4Os-b7LWcueYKAbXrYKWMLzSLM0s4AM9qEzVTyYKC6ZIXSV-qWUyeSFMDD/s1600/mask+final+small.jpg" height="400" width="248" /></a>this week's prompt, mask, was actually used early on waaaaaay back in 2006 - you can see the post <a href="http://52fridays.blogspot.com/2006/12/week-28-mask.html" target="_blank">here</a> things have changed somewhat since then (oh, thank god!) i no longer (well, mostly) try to make myself fit the situation, to be one thing to one person and someone else to another. i have found that it takes a lot less effort and yields better overall results. i have been braver when facing things that scare me or are unpleasant. and i since i can no longer hide in a bottle i have had to accept things as they are and do my best to process and accept them.<br />
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also, i have been seeing someone.<br />
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i know that in the past i have talked a lot about the relationships i have been in, and i know how the cycle progresses. i think, this time things might be different. i'm different for starters.<br />
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i have been completely open and honest i have been present and willing to work to spend time with her. i don't have to play games or worry about being played. this relation so far has been based on friendship and communication.<br />
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like i said, things are a little different.<br />
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there was more that i was going to talk about, but i find myself a little reluctant to share some of those things at this point. what i will say is that i told her the other day that: "i can't tell you how i feel about you without sounding like a crazy person."<br />
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-63849886117367426322014-05-24T15:12:00.001-07:002014-05-24T15:12:35.471-07:00week 43: universe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">last month, i achieved two years of </span>sobriety<span style="font-family: inherit;">. this might not sound like all that long, and it really isn't in the grand scheme, but it was roughly one-seventh of the time i spent not being sober, and i can pretty much say with </span>certainty<span style="font-family: inherit;"> that these two years - i wouldn't have had, had i continued drinking the way that i did.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">i said somewhere the other night that all those years i spent out there, begging, screaming and blaming god for everything, that i was so loud that i </span>couldn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> have heard any answer, any response over my own noise. that i took certain things for granted and was bitterly angry and hurt when i felt i was being punished or crushed by some cosmic force out there that clearly had it out for me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that was the other thing. out there. these days i see things more "in here" not so </span>separate<span style="font-family: inherit;"> or clearly defined. that </span>blurriness<span style="font-family: inherit;"> that once applied to my gray area of ethics as kind of been applied to my connection with other people, if that makes sense. i see us as being closer to one another than i did in the darker years of misuse.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">i still get </span>depressed<span style="font-family: inherit;">, i still have </span>issues<span style="font-family: inherit;"> with trust and faith and bad things still happen. but i find that i seem to be better equipped to handle them than i was a few years ago.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">i have also been blessed with some really special moments and i see those moments a lot more clearly than i once did. while i don't </span>define<span style="font-family: inherit;"> myself through those kind of moments as much i am able to be present in them.</span></span></div>
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so the bad things that happen, they pass - and i can learn from them. those good ones, i can enjoy and keep for what they are and not what they were or might be.</div>
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right now, i'm just smiling.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">Redemption Song</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">-Bob Marley<br />Old pirates, yes, they rob I;<br />Sold I to the merchant ships,<br />Minutes after they took I<br />From the bottomless pit.<br />But my hand was made strong<br />By the 'and of the Almighty.<br />We forward in this generation<br />Triumphantly.<br />Won't you help to sing<br />These songs of freedom? -<br />'Cause all I ever have:<br />Redemption songs;<br />Redemption songs.<br />Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;<br />None but ourselves can free our minds.<br />Have no fear for atomic energy,<br />'Cause none of them can stop the time.<br />How long shall they kill our prophets,<br />While we stand aside and look? Ooh!<br />Some say it's just a part of it:<br />We've got to fulfil de book.<br />Won't you help to sing<br />These songs of freedom? -<br />'Cause all I ever have:<br />Redemption songs;<br />Redemption songs;<br />Redemption songs.<br />Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;<br />None but ourselves can free our mind.<br />Wo! Have no fear for atomic energy,<br />'Cause none of them-a can-a stop-a the time.<br />How long shall they kill our prophets,<br />While we stand aside and look?<br />Yes, some say it's just a part of it:<br />We've got to fulfill the book.<br />Won't you help to sing<br />These songs of freedom? -<br />'Cause all I ever had:<br />Redemption songs -<br />All I ever had:<br />Redemption songs:<br />These songs of freedom,<br />Songs of freedom.</span><br />
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-25441523146774856222014-05-10T01:43:00.002-07:002014-05-12T02:25:17.798-07:00voyage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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so. </div>
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this was/is/has been (?) a post i have been avoiding since last february.</div>
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i have started and abandoned this several times over the last few months, i haven't been able to really articulate what i feel like i am trying to say, or work out, or through, or whatever.</div>
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on february 10, 2014 the world lost an extremely talented and beautiful woman. my friend, kourtney.</div>
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she was thirty-four years old and died of breast cancer.</div>
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she was an amazing person, she was positive, upbeat, artistic, she didn't let her condition define who she was and how she lived her life. i remember asking her once how she could just not be so overwhelmed and depressed by what was happening and while i don't remember what she said, i do remember how i felt about what she told me. it was simple and i remember thinking that i could finally see, so clearly, those differences in the way i process life and the way she chose to.</div>
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the last time i saw her was a few weeks before she passed. i was at the grocery store and i saw a little woman in one of those electric shopping carts. then i say a tattoo on the woman's neck, it was of two horses. it was kourtney.</div>
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i didnt know that she had come back to the area.</div>
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i tried not to let my feelings, my shock at how sick she looked show but i'm sure i failed. we talked for a bit and i said we should get together and have some tea sometime soon.</div>
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she said she would like that.</div>
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we hugged and said goodbye.</div>
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and that was that, i heard a few weeks later she had died.</div>
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i don't understand why useful people like her are taken and others are not. i told her once at the river that i wished i could take her place, that it wasn't fair. i meant that, i still do. </div>
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i am a better person for having known her, and i will miss her.</div>
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thank you kourtney, for being my friend.</div>
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<b>September 2010</b></div>
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<i>"eleven years ago i was taking classes at the local junior college, mostly arts and humanities. each semester was like christmas, a never ending supply of new girls that i could potentially date.</i></span><i><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">it was a very shallow time of my life.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">but i was young, moderately cute, and played guitar.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">there was this one art class where i sat next to this cute burnette that i developed a bit of a crush on. we became friends and since she didnt seem interested in taking things further than maybe making out once or twice (i think?) i settled for friends.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">and we gradually grew apart.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">then i moved to san francisco and she los angeles.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">and that was that.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">tonight i went to my youngest sisters house for a going away party, my cousin is moving to costa rica, and her place was swamped with people i didnt know.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">so in typical patrick style, when not able to booze it up (had to drive home after all), i hide.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">i had a great time hanging out with my soon to be brother in law and his buddy, we sat out back and enjoyed the cool night and talked crap about everything.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">eventually they went inside, i didnt.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">earlier in the evening i notices a young woman with tattoo on her neck, a stylish vintage mens hat and a pair over-sized jackie o sunglasses.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">and everytime i did venture inside for some food or a coke or whatever that i kept looking at her.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">i could tell that her head was shaved, and drew my own conclusions on that.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">so anyway, im out on the porch sitting alone and listening to people talk at one another and she comes out and i look up and say a name followed by the upturned pitch that accompanies a "?".</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">and it was her.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">eleven years and there she was, this person i hadn't seen in ages at this random party in a town that was nowhere near where we had met.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">as we talked about our lives she told me, and im not going to go into too much detail here as i havent asked her permission to talk about it, that she got sick, and that it wasnt good.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">but she was upbeat and sarcastic and irreverent. and i made her laugh, over and over.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">and then i had to cut it short cause i needed to get back home in case there was grandma issues (simple fact of life, no begrudging there).</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">as i drove home, and then sat around drawing i felt sad, despondent, this has affected me in a way that i didnt expect, here is someone that i may have thought about six or seven times in the past decade and i feel guilty for feeling like im losing someone much closer, like i dont have a right to that sense of loss, of sadness.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">maybe its because shes not even 30 until next week. maybe its because i felt something for her once.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">ive been around death, but its old people, people in their 80's, thats a 50 year deficit. and thats pretty fucked up.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">i guess im trying to say something that i dont really know how to articulate, i feel like im dancing around it.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">it was a nice talk though."</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;"><b>A few days later</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij0ZdsvRUk8yGYChHZHB_LQ66OJFoDVp9BVDnqaNP5qcCbh_-9sc66WELjmXQ4yeH_bQvafnAzqHPcWGW8f055PIDC2s-O8bGjXaC9VIhaGw6f7w-xgnGZ2ukRNbM9qlB2xGkE/s1600/stage4c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.4; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span><span style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; border-width: 1px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: #cc6600;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij0ZdsvRUk8yGYChHZHB_LQ66OJFoDVp9BVDnqaNP5qcCbh_-9sc66WELjmXQ4yeH_bQvafnAzqHPcWGW8f055PIDC2s-O8bGjXaC9VIhaGw6f7w-xgnGZ2ukRNbM9qlB2xGkE/s640/stage4c.jpg" height="283" ox="true" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(17, 17, 17); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 1px; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.4;">"t</span></span><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.4;">his was actually yesterday but there is something about drinking </span></span><span style="line-height: 24.88888931274414px;">coronas</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.4;"> in the sun (i'm sure that there is a joke in that somewhere) that makes you (read: me) feel like i actually exerted myself in a physical manner.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.4;">anyway."</span></span></i></span></div>
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-77962800827893885362014-05-09T21:30:00.000-07:002015-02-17T02:02:49.810-08:00week 42: voyage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">earlier today i read something a friend posted that struck a chord, he wrote: "<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">The worst distance between two people is misunderstanding."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">i did a quick </span><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">search</span><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"> and found this gem all over the interwebs but was not able to confirm who was given credit, not that it really matters, we have only so many words that we can fit together and so many people </span><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">throughout</span><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"> history who have existed that it probably has been said many times </span><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">independent</span><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"> of direct influence... does that make sense?</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">oh well.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">basically what i thought of when i read this was something i had written in college. "Over there, on the other side of the couch, a million miles away, she's talking again."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">i also think that one of the worst things you can do to someone you love is take them for granted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">there is a song by death cab, called a lack of color. it talks about perception, mechanics of vision, how light works, i once wrote about how i found it funny that, with my "damaged eyes", i needed to look through warped pieces of glass to see things as they truly are.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">i should have given you a reason to stay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">i was the one worth leaving.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">with words like lost and found and don't look down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">how i don't know what i should do with my hands when i talk to you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">of promises we never had the chance to keep, how typical, but nonetheless how tragic all the same.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">these are words that i have clung to through years of being lost in a chaotic sea of what i call life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">it's a little funny that these words have been both a bit of floating wreckage and, at times, anchors.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">so now i pray, of all things, each night that she is happy, and i ask for the pain, that sadness, that lack of, well, her be lifted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">so please, remember me, at twenty-three on the hill above the city, alone with our regrets and cigarettes and the shock that you were leaving, the stars up in the skies, and in your eyes - could that moment last forever? my dear, i'll meet you there beyond all care (a fractured pair) we can watch that fallen trapeze swinger.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">i think that there are some things, that some people never get over.</span><br />
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-45712235889109464802014-05-09T03:58:00.002-07:002014-05-09T03:58:26.558-07:00week 41: revenge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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yeah, i know...<br />
<br />
i've been going through one of those uninspired phases i seem to have. there is just some things that i am dealing with that i can't... don't want to get into right now. this week<br />
s prompt kind of hit me last minute, there is a bunch unfinished sketches that i will add to this post in the next day or so... so enjoy this preview and see if you can guess where i might be going with this.</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-696286784631019542014-04-11T04:19:00.001-07:002014-04-11T04:19:11.119-07:00week 40:survival<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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there was a lot that i was going to say here but i ran out of time. <div>
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"...and i guess it's just as well, cause i miss your face like hell." The Head and the Heart - Rivers and Roads.</div>
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-91969869650345790532014-03-07T04:44:00.002-08:002014-03-07T04:44:16.082-08:00week 39: voice<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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no words tonight.</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-44043066497258086512014-02-21T02:26:00.000-08:002014-02-21T02:26:27.310-08:00week 38: twisted<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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the last two weeks have been, difficult. the last several months actually have been extremely trying. i thought that i was ready to talk about what i've been going through, but i haven't really been able to get it down in a coherent manner, and i have a bit more work left on moving through this unpleasantness. <div>
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i have been stressed, anxious, depressed and more, and oddly enough, while i don't want to face and feel what i have been, i haven't been tempted to medicate myself the way i did for so many years and that's something i guess.</div>
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still, this whole "life" thing... it isn't fair and it isn't easy. </div>
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i know that this has been incredibly self-indulgent, and for that, i apologize.</div>
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-29469198755939391162014-01-30T19:33:00.000-08:002014-01-31T00:12:24.491-08:00week 37: disguise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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i remember sitting in a bar one night shortly after my twenty-second birthday. i had come back home from college and it was this first time i had visited that place since i had left.<br />
<br />
i was sitting by myself, with a pitcher of beer and a notebook, writing things down and sketching when i noticed that some of the kids from a year below me in high school had entered the bar.<br />
<br />
i was in a back corner and i doubt they noticed me but i wrote down, "it would seem that i am slowly running out of places to hide."<br />
<br />
the reason this struck me the way that it had was that as soon as i was legally able to, i traded the coffee shop/denny's scene and started haunting the two or three bars in town. i had "enjoyed" about a year of not having to interact with people that i was tired of being around.<br />
<br />
i was asked a few months ago about when it was exactly that things in my life had tipped over and started the path of self-destruction that i had followed to present. i don't think i really know. what i do know is that i remember the exact moment i gave up.<br />
<br />
i was in class, it was an animation lab i think and it was the week after thanksgiving break. i had been going through a devastating break up and i was in so much depression and pain that the only thing i could think to do was go down to the corner during a break and buy a bottle of vodka. i was sitting at my station, the light board turned off and the piles of papers stacked next to the bottle i had bought and i thought to myself: "fuck it, it's on."<br />
<br />
that was the first day of basically thirteen straight years of daily and nightly drinking with few exceptions, and those exceptions were not pleasant nights..<br />
<br />
i have come to believe that no matter how hard or long someone might try to hide, the world eventually finds them.<br />
<br />
for years i had hidden behind books, sarcasm, smoking, indifference, sex, guitars, and drinking. all of these things that i presented with a smile and sometimes even a confidence i never truly felt. i could be surrounded by people and always somehow felt alone. i felt that the suit was wearing me.<br />
<br />
today has been a pretty difficult day.<br />
<br />
i am going through several very painful things and i want so badly to fall apart. i feel that dull ache in my throat, i feel tears that wont come burning behind my eyes and i cant seem to breathe properly. today i have fought the urge to sleep. today i know that doing something like buying a bottle and saying "fuck it" once again will not solve anything, in fact, i know that it would be a very short and messy trip, but still there is that part of me that wants to give in and just be done with everything.<br />
<br />
all the songs that i usually use to try and wrap myself in aren't working tonight.<br />
<br />
i'm sorry that this is such a depressing entry but i just cant keep this mask on any longer today, i'm just too tired.</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-78423743747870406842014-01-14T01:04:00.000-08:002014-01-14T01:04:04.850-08:00week 36: search<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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every once in awhile i get asked questions about what i post here, more often than not, those questions are along the lines of "who is the girl."<br />
<br />
i suppose that there are a few of you out there who might think you know who she is, and that answer would vary depending on the person and the time in my life that they knew me - but i'm pretty sure no one person really would get it right. mostly, because she isn't any one person.<br />
<br />
i remember thinking in highschool that there was some woman out there that i loved so much that i would one day want to spend the rest of my life with her, and that i just hadn't met her yet. an maybe that's true. over the years i had thought i'd found her a few times but, well... yeah. now, this isn't to say that i hadn't, but i can see how my gradual decline into the unmanageable chaos that became my life had at least an equal part in those relationships failures.<br />
<br />
i was, and still am to some degree, a mess.<br />
<br />
so to answer that question, she's different people, sometimes influenced by experience and other times hope.<br />
<br />
one of the things that i like about this blog is that i really haven't had to fabricate anything, that these posts are based in actual events. these are moments, sometimes very personal moments that i share here, and i'm not entirely sure why.<br />
<br />
i wrote once, a few years ago, that i had entered the phase of life where life stops giving you things and begins to take them away. i don't think that i was completely wrong in that observation, but i was<br />
sick, soul sick and getting ready to die when i wrote that. i know now that there is hope, and that life has more in store for me. that loss is the price you must pay for the experience. all those gifts, those moments, those women, all of those things that i miss so very fucking much, that the pain and sadness i feel from their absence, that it had been up to me to make those experiences worth the cost. something i never really took into account until now.<br />
<br />
for a long time i sought to define myself in terms of what i was in relation to something, be it friends, loves, alcohol, or any number of things. i never really wanted to look too deep into the real problems, and while i explored the darker parts of my soul, i did so with one eye closed and a flashlight that worked intermittently. yes, i knew that those places where there, that those things were real, but i figured as long as i could keep running everything would be okay. and it was. for a long time it was.<br />
<br />
i don't know.<br />
<br />
sometimes, she's even a little part of me. i don't know if that makes any sense but it's true.<br />
<br />
<b>The Everybodyfields - Lonely Anywhere</b><br />
<br />
I'm sorry<br />
You're angry good night<br />
Good bye<br />
<br />
But we need to keep looking into <br />
Each other's eyes,<br />
Even though it hurts to see the one you love<br />
I can't help decide<br />
<br />
Start writing <br />
Make a list of your plans for the year<br />
<br />
And send me a little note in the mail<br />
When my name appears on your list<br />
Of things to do<br />
If you ever can see past you<br />
I'll keep some days clear<br />
<br />
And I can be lonely here<br />
Yes I can be lonely anywhere<br />
<br />
And I can be lonely here<br />
And I can be---, lonely <br />
<br />
You're walking<br />
You walk out of the room<br />
And everywhere<br />
<br />
I'm talking <br />
You're looking through me<br />
With a blank stare<br />
And I can't help but ask if today would be my last <br />
Would you care?<br />
<br />
And I can be lonely here<br />
And I can be lonely anywhere<br />
Yes I can be lonely<br />
And I can be--, lonely<br />
<br />
<b>I still haven't found what I'm looking for - U2</b><div>
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I have climbed highest mountain<br />I have run through the fields<br />Only to be with you<br />Only to be with you<br /><br />I have run<br />I have crawled<br />I have scaled these city walls<br />These city walls<br />Only to be with you<br /><br />But I still haven't found what I'm looking for<br />But I still haven't found what I'm looking for<br /><br />I have kissed honey lips<br />Felt the healing in her fingertips<br />It burned like fire<br />This burning desire<br /><br />I have spoke with the tongue of angels<br />I have held the hand of a devil<br />It was warm in the night<br />I was cold as a stone<br /><br />But I still haven't found what I'm looking for<br />But I still haven't found what I'm looking for<br /><br />I believe in the kingdom come<br />Then all the colors will bleed into one<br />Bleed into one<br />Well yes I'm still running<br /><br />You broke the bonds and you<br />Loosed the chains<br />Carried the cross<br />Of my shame<br />Of my shame<br />You know I believed it<br /><br />But I still haven't found what I'm looking for<br />But I still haven't found what I'm looking for<br />But I still haven't found what I'm looking for<br />But I still haven't found what I'm looking for...</div>
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-4386311005254190442014-01-07T00:33:00.001-08:002014-01-07T00:33:07.890-08:00week 35: time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
"and there is not, enough air to breath around here - in every inch, a memory."<br />
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"at some point i came to terms with, and accepted the fact that i would probably always be unhappy - but i never thought i would be be this miserable."<br />
<br />
another year. time can be funny, i guess. it seems to go by so much more quickly than it did when i was younger. the days seem to drag on but the weeks and months fly by, and suddenly i have to remember a new date for forms and paperwork. 2013 was my first calendar year of sobriety. i mention that only because this is the first year in over a decade that i have had to face my problems rather than running from them hoping and praying that if i could run fast enough they wouldn't catch up. of course they did, and now all of that history, it's settling down on my shoulders and i find that i have a lot of work to do, and even then i might not be able to fix the mess that i have made of myself.<br />
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the other night, new year's eve, i was sitting here, staring at a blank page and wondering what i wanted to say for this week's entry.<br />
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i was reorganizing/culling my music collection when i came across a song that reminded me of a specific moment, fifteen years ago.<br />
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it was new year's eve, 1998. i was living in a trailer on my grandparents property out in the country. it had been cold, freezing actually, and it was a year where it snowed pretty heavily for this part of the world. the trailer i was in had little insulation and i wasn't allowed to run power out to it because it was old and they were concerned with the possibility of a fire.<br />
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my life was not going well. i was angry, hurt, depressed, numb, and completely lost. i had begun to cut myself with a razor, to feel. i don't know, it's kinda hard to explain. i was so empty and i just wanted to feel something that wasn't, well, what i was feeling. it was like i had shut off my ability to touch life and forgotten how to turn it back on.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2IlrjfLKy7HRtq9v6NCApjeYH2C0CtAJtCKvr1fuqhxstR8xOQ06gpn_bW6lZDsf4n-VhbfOfvY4neGIyCcnua9n4mvwqXJ-MsF2bZ04oLAvbDg3dK8lbxXpUH-hEmJT4n0f/s1600/reflect+time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2IlrjfLKy7HRtq9v6NCApjeYH2C0CtAJtCKvr1fuqhxstR8xOQ06gpn_bW6lZDsf4n-VhbfOfvY4neGIyCcnua9n4mvwqXJ-MsF2bZ04oLAvbDg3dK8lbxXpUH-hEmJT4n0f/s1600/reflect+time.jpg" /></a>so i was heartbroken, soul sick, and beaten. it all seemed like... so much. too much, too big. i couldn't see an end from where i sat and that was so fucking depressing. it was dark. i had a battery operated lantern that was dying, i didn't want to go inside because i hated everyone in that house at the time, and i know that they didn't like me very much either.<br />
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i could see my breath, i couldn't stop shaking but i remember feeling so hot, i was alone in a sea of snow and wind and all i could think about was how easy it would be.<br />
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i had music on in the background, i had been trying to get a signal for the countdown but gave up and switched over to the cd's and i was carving lyrics into my arm when i slipped a little and started bleeding more than i had intended.<br />
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and then the cd changed and tori came on. it was twelve oh two, i was bleeding everywhere and i was listening to a song that for some reason made things not hurt so badly. i could feel that ache in my chest ease for a minute and i was crying for the first time in i don't even know how long.<br />
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it put things in perspective and something in me shifted by a few degrees. i wish i could say that it was the moment that everything turned around but if you've been reading things here, well that wasn't the case.<br />
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so as that song finished i was smiling through my tears as i wrapped my arm in a torn t-shirt and then used electrical tape for pressure and went outside to smoke.<br />
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the wind had stopped, the snow had stopped. the clouds had moved and the moon was shining down on a field of untouched snow. it was so still. so crisp and clear. i'm pretty sure that i will never forget that night.<br />
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<br />
"Pretty Good Year" - Tori Amos<br />
<br />Tears on the sleeve of a man<br />Don't wanna be a boy today<br />Heard the eternal footman<br />Bought himself a bike to race<br />And Greg he writes letters<br />And burns his CDs<br />They say you were something in those formative years<br />Hold onto nothing<br />As fast as you can<br />Well still pretty good year<br /><br /><br />Maybe a bright sandy beach<br />Is going to bring you back<br />May not so now you're off<br />You're gonna see America<br />Well let me tell you something about america<br />Pretty good year<br />Some things are melting now<br />Well what's it gonna take<br />Till my baby's alright<br /><br /><br />And Greg he writes letters with his birthday pen<br />Sometimes he's aware that they're drawing him in<br />Lucy was pretty<br />Your best friend agreed<br />Still Pretty good year</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-84203398045090278752014-01-03T21:05:00.001-08:002014-01-03T21:05:41.391-08:00week 34: reflect<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've been meaning to post this since the day after Christmas, the delay being the art. trying to settle on how to express what i'd like to say this/these week/s has been difficult and while i finally feel like i have some sort of grip on what is going through my mind right now i'm not entirely sure if i'm going to be able to say what i mean. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">when i started fifty-two fridays, the intent was to pick something, and actually follow through with it for a year. the idea was that i could go back, a year later and see how my life had or hadn't changed, in my own words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">this has been educational.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">sometime it's odd reading what I've written, it brings details back and can be very uncomfortable sometimes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">one of the more difficult things about writing in one place for so long is not to repeat myself all of the time. yes, i have been guilty of this, and many of the themes overlap but this whole thing has been about my life, right? and i am the first to admit that i have many unresolved issues. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">anyway.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSZuitZQjrcB0G47AxlyLRyN7dLal06YUVs-Ehwy3LJM4RvFY_tHHWZyV5xwhPjco_WTuugeBnFFTPB-tKs-PUD40jk23mWSNun3Me4bgf6SV3-3Dis2qpxnw_kBuXuaABwge/s1600/weakset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSZuitZQjrcB0G47AxlyLRyN7dLal06YUVs-Ehwy3LJM4RvFY_tHHWZyV5xwhPjco_WTuugeBnFFTPB-tKs-PUD40jk23mWSNun3Me4bgf6SV3-3Dis2qpxnw_kBuXuaABwge/s320/weakset.jpg" width="109" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">last week i turned 35. that night i was sitting in my office looking at a blank screen trying to figure out what to post. i didn't want to focus on how my birthdays usually suck and that i have stopped really caring about them, and i was thinking about the year that was an exception to the rule.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">it's a little funny how some of the best memories i have can be linked to times, places and or people who didn't really have an overall positive impact in my life. the example, in this case is that one year the woman i had been dating remembered some off hand comment about a small band that i like playing at slim's in SOMA. i was completely taken by surprise when we arrived at the mystery destination a few weeks later and i got to see a band that i like very much, play music that i love ten feet from where i was standing. i had been to more than a few shows in my life but this was just so... special.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">the list to the left of the screen is a copy of the playlist from that night that someone from the show scanned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The Last, Last One </b>- The Weakerthans</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">You always stole all my last words.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.328125px;">Here's no exception then,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.328125px;">one more for me to send. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">And nothing happens in the end. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.328125px;">I'm thinking of you less, more concerned... and more is less, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.328125px;">I guess it doesn't matter now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">Maybe we'll never go insane. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.328125px;">You always said we would, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">s</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">ometimes I wished we could </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">with you lying naked in the rain </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.328125px;">and singing Boney M, cutting down all our old friends. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">I talk to them again now. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">So here's the last one I have left. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.328125px;">We fell a little deep, I watched you fall asleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">And nothing happens in the end, </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.328125px;">but I remember when I could remember when. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; line-height: 21.328125px;">Seems like a long time ago.</span></span></div>
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-32698535471239639632013-12-20T03:19:00.000-08:002013-12-20T03:19:01.940-08:00week 33: spirit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
like charlie brown and that football.<br />
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every.<br />
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damned.<br />
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time.</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-10072674146473422672013-12-13T04:30:00.000-08:002013-12-13T04:30:20.835-08:00week 32: pattern<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"i hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene."<br />
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disenchanted -my chemical romance </div>
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i'm not entirely sure of what i was going to say. i've been thinking a lot lately and it occurred to me that i can't remember when it was that i started thinking so small. </div>
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when i started to allow that fear of loss, rejection and other unpleasant outcomes keep me from even trying. see, it's one thing to have something fall apart because of an actual reason. it's another to have it happen because of, well, i don't know exactly. no reason at all?</div>
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i can look back at the painful experiences i've gone through and see my part in it. but when something doesn't happen, it's kinda like a sneeze that gets interrupted, or having someone stick a finger in your mouth when you yawn. i don't think that i am really making any sense.</div>
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i just am really tire of feeling the way that i feel, especially the way that i've been feeling lately. </div>
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i guess it's just that i feel the same way now as i did back when i was constantly bringing one thing after another down on my own head.</div>
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and i really think i ought to know better. </div>
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Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-78224055550602737782013-12-05T18:16:00.003-08:002013-12-05T18:16:23.826-08:00week 31: refrain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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while i know that by the time this week's entry will be posted you wouldn't know that while i have most of the sketchwork down for the actual art, i am doing something that i don't believe i have done in all the years that i have been doing this whole fifty-two fridays thing.</div>
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well two things.</div>
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the first is that i am writing the entry before the art is completed, not that it couldn't be done any other way, typically i have gone through the process of reflecting on what the prompt means to me, how that applies/ does it apply to what is going on in my life, create the drawing, and then kind of process all of the things that had gone through my mind up to sitting around and writing about it. </div>
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the second thing is that, if you are a follower of this particular blog, you might have caught on that music tends to play a fairly large role in my work, and that while i have posted almost five hundred entries, and many if not most of those entries mention music - i have yet to share a song, well, the song. and i am not entirely certain why i have been so reluctant to do so</div>
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i guess i should explain:</div>
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tomorrow wendy. a song about a woman with aids, who decides rather than suffer through the disease, and this was in the 80's, and go through the stigma, fear, and hatred associated with that particular virus, she would end her life on her own terms.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
one of the most amazing things about aids, is that the disease brings out the worse in people, people who don't even have it. while some things have changed in the understanding of the disease, it still kills. it kills every.fucking.day. and somehow, like around the end of the nineties or early 2000's its like we stopped being scared of it, the numbers were down and all. no it seems to be coming back.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
there are people who say that it's a permanent solution to a temporary problem. and i'm sorry but those people are assholes, especially when they rattle that gem off when someone has just died.</div>
<div>
if you want to talk about temporary problems, life is a temporary problem. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
that said.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
there are songs that have shaped my life, in some cases taken me in directions i might have never gone had i not known of them. these songs, they can be many things. they can be memories, smells, tastes. company, friends and women. they can take me back, like magic to some summer moment driving down the highway as the sun set, music blasting, windows down and the hand of someone i loved at sixteen, and at twenty-three, and shortly, thirty-five.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i wrote once:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"I don’t need any more random reminders.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Music is the same way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tori Amos.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Radiohead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nirvana.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Smashing pumpkins.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Peter Murphy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Weezer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
James.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hole.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
nine inch nails.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Songs to f**k to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I realize that listening to the downward spiral will be
difficult for now on."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
"<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Have you ever accidently discovered
a song that touched you so deeply that you still listen to it years later and
it still moves you the same as it did the first time you stumbled upon it?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The miracle in that is that you
weren't even looking for it, almost like it found you and it’s amazing that
something that you didn't know existed before that moment becomes such an
important part of who you are from that point on. The scary part is when you
realize how easily you could have missed it. and how that would have changed everything.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i have been thinking about something in particular these last few weeks, along with mounting depression and anxiety, i haven't been nearly as productive as i'd like to be. what i have been doing though is thinking about my life, when i'm going and where i have been.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i was sitting in a booth earlier working on the sketches for this entry, and thinking about heaven, well not heaven specifically, i guess it was more of what happens next.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and the the thought that had been elusively just out of reach, came out of my pen on the paper i was sketching on.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"this, this is where i go, where i would live if i could. this moment. this is where i hope to one day return."</div>
<div>
"i can only hope that heaven, or whatever it may or may not be, is just one single moment of my life. a moment that i get to chose and experience for eternity. hell, that would be living a life that had no such moments from which to choose. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>tomorrow wendy</b></div>
<div>
andy prieboy</div>
<div>
johnette napolitano</div>
<div>
concrete blonde</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
It is complete now the two ends of time are neatly tied<br />
A one-way street, she's walking to end of the line<br />
And there she meets the faces she keeps in her heart and mind<br />
<br />
They say 'good bye' Tomorrow, Wendy, is going to die,<br />
They say 'good bye' Tomorrow, Wendy, is going to die,<br />
<br />
Underneath the chilly gray November sky<br />
We can make believe that Kennedy is still alive and<br />
Were shooting for the moon and smiling Jackie's driving by and<br />
<br />
They say 'good try'<br />
Tomorrow Wendy is going to die<br />
Tomorrow Wendy is going to die<br />
<br />
I told the priest, Don't count on any second coming<br />
God got his ass kicked the first time he came down here slumming<br />
He had the balls to come, the gall to die and then forgive us<br />
No, I don't wonder why, I wonder what he thought it would get us<br />
Hey, hey, good bye<br />
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die<br />
<br />
Hey, hey, good bye<br />
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die<br />
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die<br />
<br />
Only God says jump<br />
So I set the time<br />
'Cause if he ever saw her<br />
It was through these eyes of mine!<br />
And if he ever suffered it was me who did his crying<br />
<br />
Hey hey, good bye<br />
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die<br />
(Tomorrow Wendy's going to die)<br />
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die<br />
(Tomorrow Wendy's going to die)<br />
Tomorrow Wendy'd going to die<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
(i got to see her</div>
<div>
the day before she took her last</div>
<div>
i held her close that firm resolve manifest</div>
<div>
we talked in depth of life</div>
<div>
we kissed and soon began to cry</div>
<div>
i wept for her and she for those of us she'd leave behind)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Hey, hey, good bye<br />
Tomorrow Wendy you're going to die<br />
<br />
Hey, hey, good bye<br />
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die<br />
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die<br />
Tomorrow Wendys going to die<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">"this song, has been my companion since was thirteen. over the years it's meaning to me has evolved, this song has held my hand through a parent's suicide, so many of the wrong women, many poor choices i had made over time. this song has tra</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline !important; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">veled with me in one form or another, the late teens, my twenties, and these few years since i turned thirty. this song is always close to my thoughts, my heart. this song in its own way saved my life during some very dark chapters. i owe Amie Rolf, Andy Prieboy and Johnette Napolitano... so much more than i could ever hop e to repay. and thank you wendy, i think you saved a lot of people.<br /><br />thank you.<br />thank you so very, very, much."</span></div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-4733009407126035872013-11-12T01:02:00.002-08:002013-11-12T01:02:51.417-08:00week 30: energy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was standing in line at the CVS pharmacy, waiting for what
felt like forever, and as I was drawing this week’s entry, on my phone, it
occurred to me that technology, and specifically in over the last five years,
has completely changed the way that I create art.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I really started thinking about it and it hit me that I
have seen some pretty amazing advances over the years and I decided to sit down
after finishing at the pharmacy and take some notes about things that really
changed the way I do things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For example:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before 1990 it was binder paper, and maybe copier paper but
more likely it was several perforated pages out of the dot matrix printer
hooked up to our Tandy1000.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Around 1991 my father got a laptop that weighed like ten pounds
and had a blue-ish/silver screen. More importantly, it could be hooked up to a
CRT monitor and I could use the paint program to create art, one pixel at a
time… this is where I learned that the color brown was actually made up out of
purple and yellow… go figure. It was also around that time that I was
introduced to the Internet, my father called me into the office, unplugged his
phone, and plugged it into the laptop. After a few minutes of annoying
screeching, my father began typing and said something about how cool it was…
that he was taking to someone using a similar set-up somewhere. At the time I was
unimpressed and pointed out that he could have just called the person on the
phone and not have to type. (this attitude has somewhat persisted in that I dot
really like to text people) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So around middle school I was introduced to actual art
classes, comic books, and sketch pads… in 1997, my senior year, I used a
scanner for the first time, it was big – the scanner – and probably cost a
fortune, I was able to color those drawing using something like an early form
of Corel or Photoshop or something, it was all very basic, but so cool in that I
was able to save these drawing onto either a 5” floppy disk or a 2.5” disk. I could
also put these drawings on the Internet which was a great place to chat with
strangers and download guitar tablature to all the songs I loved.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next advance was when I went to college – I had a zip
drive that had disks that could hold a whopping 200mb, got my first DSL
connection and was able to start making websites, download music on Napster or Kazaa,
I had a computer, a new flatbed scanner, a DVD player and cd burner. Along with
software that fell off a truck, I was able to learn new scanning and cleaning
techniques, coloring, layout and all the other skill I acquired in college.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Aside from the Wacom tablet, the way I created art was primarily
the same, until around last year or so. It was mostly hand drawn when I was out
of the house, in school, coffee shops or bars. Scanned when I got home and then
colored with Prisma Color markers before the scan, or in Photoshop after the
scan… and sometimes I did both. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It wasn’t until last Christmas that I got my Samsung galaxy
note 10.1 tablet, and with the magical s pen, I had control over the pressure
and opacity of the tool I was using, brush/pen/etc. and was able to draw
directly on the screen, making it so that I didn’t have to sketch as much, but
there were times when I didn’t have the option of busting out the tablet, so I kept
the Molekines in my art-snal (art+ arsenal) and continue to, to this day
because people seem to think you aren’t paying attention more when I’m using tablet
as opposed to pen and paper… and I love paper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I now have the galaxy note three, it is the phone that I have
been waiting for, for like the last fifteen years. It comes with Autodesk Sketchbook,
and even the pro version of the app is like five bucks, I can sketch something,
take a photo of the sketch, import it into the sketchbook app, and using
layers, I can ink the lines, color and shade with this phone. It has had a big effect
on my artistic process.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five years ago, I had what I called a portable office. A laptop,
a digital camera, wireless mouse, and several flash memory drives to hold large
.psd files and raw scans that I had done before leaving home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I have a tablet and a phone that have the ability to
access the Internet, that can connect to drop box and Google drive, I have
access to thousands of sketches and drawings I’ve made over the years, not to
mention like 32gb of music and e-books and a few videos for when I feel like
taking a break.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five years ago, I had to carry two bags to hold every and
anything I might need, today there are times where I don’t even bother taking a
bag at all and have the ability to be as or more productive than I could have
with that portable office I used to haul around.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will always have a place for traditional methods, digital
art isn’t going to replace the pencil or pen, for me at least, and I don’t even
think that I explained this whole concept very well I know that I am leaving
out more than a few advances in technology but I think I covered the highlights
. Still, it kind of blows my mind when I think about the tools I have today
versus 5 or 10 years ago and then I get a headache thinking about all the
hassle I used to go through transferring data, both physically and
electronically.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m pretty sure that this probably more than a little boring
for anyone who isn't trapped in my head, but for me it is an incredible age in
which I live, and the time and energy that I can use on more productive endeavors.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So yeah, now I’m going to be lazy, do something that i haven't done in a long time, and get a five dollar
pizza from Little Caesars, eat way too much and hate myself for it afterwards.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29278027.post-24170935734824116002013-11-07T02:02:00.000-08:002013-11-08T02:57:03.681-08:00week 29: secret<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfFh1yBjCcSf0230k9ElhMGdQ5TjIC2DnfQfXM-y_V2VPOzxDtZv-R-Omg8Gq28zXj_Ud8R_6eYgqqH2OJUzLivjyq_99b03-GBdGgWJWQQyGVrasz8OZ2Jiop_Hic6HoyUWr/s1600/secret+final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfFh1yBjCcSf0230k9ElhMGdQ5TjIC2DnfQfXM-y_V2VPOzxDtZv-R-Omg8Gq28zXj_Ud8R_6eYgqqH2OJUzLivjyq_99b03-GBdGgWJWQQyGVrasz8OZ2Jiop_Hic6HoyUWr/s400/secret+final.jpg" width="366" /></a></div>
<br />
it's one of those things i'll never tell, i'll carve it into me.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://52fridays.blogspot.com/2007/04/secret-and-yes-snap-v2o.html">secret</a><br />
<br />
<b>the national - runaway</b></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>There's no saving anything</i><br />
<i>Now we're swallowing the shine of the sun</i><br />
<i>There's no saving anything</i><br />
<i>How we swallow the sun</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>But I won't be no runaway</i><br />
<i>'Cause I won't run</i><br />
<i>No, I won't be no runaway</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>What makes you think I'm enjoying</i><br />
<i>Being led to the flood?</i><br />
<i>We've got another thing coming undone</i><br />
<i>And it's taking us over</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>We don't bleed when we don't fight</i><br />
<i>Go ahead, go ahead, throw your arms in the air tonight</i><br />
<i>We don't bleed when we don't fight</i><br />
<i>Go ahead, go ahead, lose our shirts in the fire tonight</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>What makes you think I'm enjoying</i><br />
<i>Being led to the flood?</i><br />
<i>We got another thing coming undone</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>But I won't be no runaway</i><br />
<i>'Cause I won't run</i><br />
<i>No, I won't be no runaway</i><br />
<i>'Cause I won't run</i><br />
<i>No, I won't be no runaway</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>What makes you think I'm enjoying</i><br />
<i>Being led to the flood?</i><br />
<i>We've got another thing coming undone</i><br />
<i>And it's taking us over</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>We don't bleed when we don't fight</i><br />
<i>Go ahead, go ahead, throw your arms in the air tonight</i><br />
<i>We don't bleed when we don't fight</i><br />
<i>Go ahead, go ahead, lose our shirts in the fire tonight</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>But what makes you think I'm enjoying</i><br />
<i>Being led to the flood?</i><br />
<i>We got another thing coming undone</i><br />
<i>We got another thing coming undone</i><br />
<i>And it's taking forever</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>I'll go braving everything</i><br />
<i>With you swallowing the shine of the sun</i><br />
<i>I'll go braving everything</i><br />
<i>Through the shine of the sun</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>But I won't be no runaway</i><br />
<i>'Cause I won't run</i><br />
<i>No, I won't be no runaway</i><br />
<i>'Cause I won't run</i><br />
<i>No, I won't be no runaway</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>What makes you think I'm enjoying</i><br />
<i>Being led to the flood?</i><br />
<i>We've got another thing coming undone</i><br />
<i>And it's taking us over</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>We don't bleed when we don't fight</i><br />
<i>Go ahead, go ahead, throw your arms in the air tonight</i><br />
<i>We don't bleed when we don't fight</i><br />
<i>Go ahead, go ahead, lose our shirts in the fire tonight</i></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<i>What makes you think I'm enjoying</i><br />
<i>Being led to the flood?</i><br />
<i>We got another thing coming undone</i><br />
<i>We got another thing coming undone</i><br />
<i>And it's taking forever</i></div>
</div>
Patrick Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14278260500068136521noreply@blogger.com0