Murder Murderer Love Inc.

Well, I'm here in my family's apartment for another day - the continuing joke that is the Denver International Airport and the smiting of God's snowy hand upon it has left me deadlocked without point or purpose. I will probably be returning to Denver the day after next; hopefully the apartment is not/was not on fire. At least it's comforting to know that no one has released the creature. Yet.

I've had a lot of fun here in Salem, don't get me wrong. It was so unbelievably great to be with my family - spend time with everyone and get back to how I grew up. I love seeing my sisters - reciting fun movie lines, making stupid jokes, just being weird all-around - and I hope I fill my position of 'little brother' good enough for the time being. I love seeing my parents - I get to spend more time with my dad now because of his new job, and I think that now - after my senior year, graduation, band stress, and much more - my mom can relax a little bit (I'm such a fuss, I know). Also, being able to just sit alone and think to myself has been great. Just relaxing - watching movies, playing games, playing guitar and writing songs - all things I thought I could do back in Denver, but are so much different here. It's been a great time.

I do hope to return in time for a joyous celebration of the New Year, which I have decided in an off-hand sort of way is my favorite holiday. There's some aura that sparkles so slightly in that one night. The atmosphere is warm even when it's freezing. Whether it has been the somewhat crazy events of Fabry's annual get together - something about 'death sauce' and David Byrne - or champagne from a paper cup on a couch in Zac's shed - listening to Ryan produce loud, drunken sounds from his guitar and spending the last seconds of the year 2005 in the air. Whatever it is, the memory of New Years itself always compares to the mass accumulation of memories from the year before. It always sticks with me until the next year rolls around. It allows me to do what I'm doing right now - reminisce and swell with nostalgia.

Who knows where I will find myself at the end of this year? In the basement of my drummer's house discussing Freud and how humans open bananas wrong? Snowed in at my apartment with Tyler and Dustin listening to our perfectly selected soundtracks? Will I be spending the last draining seconds on the phone with someone...anyone...spilling my soul? In the immortal words of The Chemical Brothers...

"Where do I start? Where do I begin?"

Somewhere beneath a vanilla sky. Somewhere sitting on the couch between a girl I've never met and my grandfather discussing literature. I'll be back to playing croquet at lunch breaks and believing what I write. I'll find myself somewhere solving mysteries with Nancy Drew, or turning Japanese. I'll finally board those fateful clouds I spoke of in years past - the last liner to cross the starry expanse. I'll jump so high I never come down. I'll drag out the 'olde' record player and dance the twist and mamba to the sounds of The Beatles and Tim Kasher. I'll list inconsistencies and impossibilities with great ease - laugh at my own humor - and make a toast to that brand new day. I am so excited; I can't even express it.

We'll be dancing in the dark.

We'll be flying like trapeze artists.

We will not be afraid.

Tonight's blog is that of wonder! Mystery! Suspense! Another typical tag word for a 1950's drive-in horror flick! That one movie with the praying mantis was good, or maybe "The Creature From The Black Lagoon". Maybe I'll just include Boris Karloff with a flat head and bolts within my ramblings to spruce things up a bit. I think the only real mystery here is how I can bring myself to open up this so-called 'journal' so frequently (three nights in a row now...tsk, tsk) and record my psuedo-philisophical stories. It might be because...I believe I'm somewhat proud of it.

Today I learned that a movie whose entire point is to animate dancing penguins for an hour and a half can't be that bad. I also learned that elephant seals are gruff and ill tempered. Who knew.

Now, I'm back sitting here. I kind of feel peculiar now. My entire body down to my bones has been ancy without purpose. I feel uneasy. Wandering from room to room in my parent's apartment - finding nothing and then turning around to circle again. Mindless even. I've been throwing around ideas and insecurties in my head all evening - not getting anywhere. I wish I could pinpoint why I feel this way exactly.

I tossed and turned last night in bed, as well as in my skin this morning - tumbling over the uses of the letter 'X', bad analogies, planned conversations, clever timing, and why Omaha seems to be the home to so many neurotic geniuses. I picked up my phone all day to try and push myself to calling. I even got close a couple of times. On the other hand, for a brief moment, I did talk to Alexandra. It's so hard to say 'I love you' and hear a straight 'goodbye' back. This could be the cracking underneath my feet - it's hard to say. Can you hear it too?

No, not cracking. The ice has completely separated - leaving us floating like those silly CG penguins on our own personal islands. I don't even pretend to have any hope anymore; at least not for right now. It's hard to ask anything of her right now - she has her goals and life dreams - her decided path. She also has a knack for never including me on her list of important things. I feel so stupid now; I'm in the middle of what I promised not to do to myself anymore: hold on, drowning. I mean, I'm following around the threads of this relationship like a lost puppy - unable to let go due to a lack of closure. Argh. Yes, with a 'G'! For utter disgust and frustration!

Well, at least I hold divine faith in what the future could bring.

In my brief conversation with her, I tried to explain how I really like the New Year holiday. It's not because of any silly physical event - this night ends, a whole new year begins - that's just simple logic; no real reason to celebrate. What New Years means to me is a sickly sweet nostalgia - the kind I could only eat that one night before I would get sick of it. I like seeing New Years as my time for a slideshow of memories. Plus, it reminds me directly of silver plastic stars, glitter, and champagne. Which, in my opinion, is always means a good time. I'm definitely looking forward to that blog entry - oh, how I love those movie-montage-esque streams of consciousness!

Tomorrow: set my goals (insert unnecessary music joke), make some plans, wrap some presents, and generally sit around waiting for internet communication between me and snowed in friends. Sounds like a jolly time. Until then!

Well, not much to update in the sense of my personal exploration or experiences today in the real world - I walked around downtown Salem today with my mom and sisters and explored the deepest niches of it's streets - eateries, booksellers, an apothecary, and an excellent record shop. Otherwise, I played 3D-blacklit golf among family and pirates (taking fourth place) and am currently enthralled (but obviously, not really) in taking in the three-hour long epic, "Titanic" (which, curiously, I haven't seen in almost a decade). There's not much more to say about today except a boat is sinking and Leo DiCaprio is hanging on for dear life while floating on a friggin' door. Ah, Hollywood. You jest.

"Give him the necklace, you crazy broad!"

After that "disaster" (hell yes, that's hilarious!), I sit here typing in the dark. Oh, I had the strangest dream last night. Funny I should remember it as "the strangest dream"; funny I should remember it at all. I might have to give this one it's own title (wait for it, I'm concocting it as I type). This dream involved the ghosts of past lived - good memories and short-lived times that I thought (or wished) could last forever. It was like nothing had changed - puzzle pieces and slight reflections of time already lived fell together in a stained glass mosaic of what...I guess, now would be like.

I could feel the breath of the players around me; I could taste the atmosphere that I once knew. The place: a house held together by the foundations of my freshman/sophomore years and pieced together by Picasso-like floorplans. A hallway unrecognized. A window dancing from room to room. The typical fashion of our usual dream states. The people: a love undoubted and a young boy narrating to the tune of jazz standards. This music reverberating through this homely yet empty space, I saw my world spiral out of control and crash land in a gleeful shattering of beauty. I haven't enjoyed dreaming this much in a long time.

On the other hand, I woke up questioning it myself. I wondered, "Why now? Why all of a sudden, I can't seem to keep these thoughts out of my dreams, let alone my waking life?" I also brought up a usual favorite: "...what if?" This ended only in tragedy. I saw no dismissal, yet no conclusion. I saw nothing but a neverending horizon of unanswerable questions that I - daresay it - am forever doomed to ask.

But...even within my topsy-turvy thought process, I still felt lightness over the whole situation. I felt the "maybe" of everything...just...sitting there in the air. It felt warm, and right. Everything did for those few seconds. I've been thinking about those few moments for the rest of the day. It's been with me everywhere I've been - sitting there brewing in the back of my mind.

I'd love to say "why not". I see no problem in fate progressing how I always believed - back then - it would. I see no problem in events tumbling over in a waterfall of chaos, and ending up with the perfect picture. I see no problem in missing one bus, stepping in an unusually optimistic puddle, and then making dinner late to find a completely different person sitting across from me - ready to discuss the wine choice and the latest in musical theatre. My love does wait for me - twirling her fork and tapping her foot to the latest Tony Bennett cover artist at the bar. I hope she's patient.

I hope I'm not alone here - I hope that soul still exists within another. I hope that another knows exactly what I'm talking about - rambling about James Cameron and public transportation. I hope they know exactly where I'm going before I get there. I'm going to make that call, and hopefully I'll be right on time.

Head for the hills, I think I've lost it.

So many things have changed. All at once, in a sudden whirlwind of passing months, moving, calendar pages, and lost letters, my life has fell back into position like a cosmic game of Connect Four. I have no idea what direction to face or run to. My compass has run north and south in circles. Since I last rejuvenated the dying horse that was this journal, things were going pretty smoothly for me. I mean, apart from trying to survive the last two months of high school and looking forward to a shaky yet extremely exciting future.

So, yes - things have changed. Right in time for this new year too. I still have many wants and dreams; many goals and aspirations. I haven't changed as a person - other than my hair growing too long and maybe my sleep schedule. I don't know - I just don't feel that different. I'm still this person I've grown to know from conversations in the mirror or over this journal - this kid named Jordan. At least we get along most of time.

I recently (and by recently, I mean in October) moved with the band and some friends up to Denver, Colorado. I've never moved before; I've lived in the same house since as long as I can remember. My childhood house in the hell we call Los Alamos is now occupied by someone I've never even met. I might not miss that place, but I miss that space I called 'home' - my room most of all. So much of my life went on within the walls of that room. Everything from playing with Lego to packing all my memories in boxes at the beginning of my 'new start'.

Denver...has been an interesting experience so far. Still young in our stay, we have run into so much shit that I didn't even know was possible. Yes, the good things are always evident - infinite freedom, a great band, parties all night - but so are the bad things - never having money, shows getting cancelled, scraping for rent. I think Tyler is the one that said, "I have learned more in these two months of living alone that I learned in four years at our stupid high school". We live our lives to a steady soundtrack - discussing the ways of the universe and the properties of love long into the night with Marble and Dustin, planning an explosion of sound and color like I've never seen before with both Tyler and Elise, and journeying along the path (and cliffline) of my life with everyone right by my side.

The summer seems so long ago; losing my Alexandra to the inevitable rising tide. The future as her husband has grown to be nothing more than my own hope and aspiration; a love put on hold indefinitely. This has also put me in a very fragile state - a state where I constantly feel sorry for myself, question the future, and wonder 'why'.

"And strange lonesome monsters loafed through the hills wondering why...and it is best to never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever wonder why."

Right now, I'm within these new walls of my family's house in Oregon; I write from the same hands on the very same keyboard that I etched all my silly high school angst and endless teenage turmoil to the page with for years and years. I present something new. Within all this change - within the spiraling path of music, mayhem, and that thing called "love" - I write something different. Contradiction. Confrontation. Opposition. A threat to my heart that this is a war and I am not about to give up.

So, I'll stop feeling sorry for myself. What do I really have to feel sorry for anyway? Yes, I lost the race against love - as always - alright, try again, second place, you almost had it this time. I find that putting a few years of training into myself might do the trick to win her back one day. Yes, I "live like shit and suffer for my art", but I really do like it that way. Yes, I've definitely had some moments; some coughing, screaming, sobbing fits of utter disgust and unbridled anger...but, how I see it...once you've let yourself go, there's nothing more to do than to find yourself again.

That's my goal. That's my dream. In simple terms, still the music, mayhem, and a thing called "love". That's my aspiration. My inspiration as a person - a friend, a lover, a fighter, and most of all, a damn good human being. Welcome again to my life; sit and talk awhile if you like.

- Jordan