Well, the title says it all. I just wrote this in a tent. Nothing extraordinary. It is just short, simple and nothing special.
(That is what she said/I love how I just de-railed my own self esteem)
A dream is like a ghost
That only you can see
You can tell people
About it all the time
But they will never
Ever believe you
It is your own
Invisible friend
Only you can
Give it a name
Give it life and
Make it real.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
June
So, I listened to Abbey Road last night. And as we all know the last song, Her Majesty cuts off mid-song. I love the rythmn of that song. And naturally, it was stuck in my head. So, everything I was thinking was along that melody of, "Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she doesn't have a lot to say. Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she changes from day to day..." And the first stanza or what-cha-ma-call-it came into my head before I went to bed and I typed it into my phone.
And in accordance with my writing philosphy of: "Think, expand, write" this was born as precisely 3:14 p.m. June 23rd, on an overcast afternoon. In my basement, while I was listening to the Foo Fighters. And now it is all done.
Man, they just grow up so fast these days.
Come June I am going
To tell you that
You are pretty
I just have to get
The courage first
I have to find
The correct words
And perfect moment
To take your hand
And look into your
Olive green eyes
To take this crush
And give it
A new name
I am counting down
The days till June
On the calendar
Taped to my wall
Because I can not wait
To tell you that
You are pretty
I just have to wait
For June to come
And in accordance with my writing philosphy of: "Think, expand, write" this was born as precisely 3:14 p.m. June 23rd, on an overcast afternoon. In my basement, while I was listening to the Foo Fighters. And now it is all done.
Man, they just grow up so fast these days.
Come June I am going
To tell you that
You are pretty
I just have to get
The courage first
I have to find
The correct words
And perfect moment
To take your hand
And look into your
Olive green eyes
To take this crush
And give it
A new name
I am counting down
The days till June
On the calendar
Taped to my wall
Because I can not wait
To tell you that
You are pretty
I just have to wait
For June to come
Friday, June 17, 2011
You Deserve The World
I do not think you will
Ever truly realize how
Beautiful I think you are
I came close to
Telling you this once
But I lost my thought
Because I saw you smile
In that moment
I was stricken
Unable to talk
To think
If it were not for my lungs
I would have forgotten
To breathe
I just stood there
Adoring every
Aspect of you
And thinking to myself
How I just wanted to
Take a walk with you
See a movie with you
Kiss you
Then I just walked away
Because you do not
Deserve a guy like me
You deserve more
You deserve the world
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Dinkleberg (Part I)
Yesterday was a good day.
Did some yard work for one of my grandma's friends, did some siding with my dad and I pruned a tree.
Oh, and did I also mention I sliced my hand with a bow saw?
I feel like a casually just slipped that in there.
(That's what she said)
And you now may be asking yourself silenty or aloud how the title Dinkleberg comes into play. Well my friends, that is how this story begins...
It was a perfectly temperate June afternoon. I had just finished installing a rock garden for Judy and she said she needed a tree in the front yard that needed to be trimmed. I asked my father if he was sure if I should do this.
Not because of the fact that involved sharp objects, but because I did not know the first thing about properly and symetrically trimming a tree.
But Judy but me at ease when she said, "I do not care what you do, just as long as the basstard does not touch the house".
Fair enough.
So first just started using clippers to do away with the weak leaves and what have you. But there were some stern but fair branches that needed to get sawed.
Enter Sandman.
A.k.a.: Enter Owwwwww.
I knocked out the few branches like Tyson in his hey day. Then there was this one branch that would not break off.
So I kept on sawing and sawing. It still would not break.
Then I saw red.
My first actual thought and reaction was:
"Wait, trees don't bleed".
I was about to call over my dad to check it out when I noticed my hand looked weird.
Yup.
Now you know that scene in Young Frankenstein when Frankenstein (Peter Boyle) has his thumb lit on fire by the friar (irony)/(Gene Hackman).
Similar reaction.
Once I noticed it was not the tree but my left hand. Well, shit got real so to speak.
And I uttered a vast sample platter of profanity and the phrase, "Damn you Dinkleberg... Mary Poppins, bitch tits".
I knew it was bad not because I just mangled my hand with a bow saw, but because it turned me, a 6 foot 2 nineteen-year-old man with facial hair into a five-year-old. My hand was gushing blood, (Like full on Quetin Tarantino movie) and I ran to my dad.
(Also I am pretty sure I saw my knuckle bone)
(Not going to lie, I kind of thought that was pretty badass)
He looked at me and I looked at him and I said, "Daddy, I got a cut".
Before I continue this story let me just take an aside.
(Aside)
If my dad was a hockey player, he would be a bruiser. The guy who gets hit in the mouth with puck, looses all his teeth and is gushing blood, then turns to his teammates and asks, "What happened" and then gets in a fight with the guy who hit him in the face with the puck.... Then gets stitches.
True story, while working in the garage he was using a power saw. The board slipped. He slice off about half of his index finger, yet he still turned off the saw, pick up his finger, turn off the light, grab a towel, walk from the garage to the house, go through the house to my brothers room and then tell him, "Yeah, I think I sliced off a part of my finger".
(Aside over)
So my dad knows a boo-boo when he sees one.
His reaction to me showing him my cut.
And I shat you not.
He looked at me, then looked at the cut, then he looked at me and said,
"Yeah".
He ran inside to tell Judy and to get some alcohol and band-aids for the wound.
Judy was already on her way, because she heard me swearing and knew it wasn't because I missed the ice cream man.
Then I saw my dad with the brown bottle.
As I saw him walking to the door and I was clinching my blood soaked hand, I yelled at him, "Don't you dare put that on my hand, I swear to God I will punch you".
He did not listen.
He just grabbed my hand and said, "This is going to sting".
At least he was honest.
I appreciated how he chose just to pour it on the cut instead of dabbing it.
I swear I saw Jesus' eyes.
Then he wrapped it up and said, "'Tis but a scratch".
On the inside I giggled and gave him a mental tip-of-the-hat for incorporating Monty Python into this debacle. But on the outside all I could muster was, "I see what you're doing and I don't like it".
I got all bandaged up, and I went back to prunning the tree.
Judy was having none of that.
She pretty much paid me 80 dollars to go home.
It was at that moment that I made a completly adult, mature, and non-monetarily influenced decision to go home.
Except there was one elephant in the room with an inch wide (ball park estimate) cut on his hand, I had to ride my bike from her house which is literally the street that St. Joan Arc is on, to my house. Which is about two miles away. This time I had to do it with a mangled hand.
If Charlie Sheen was there and said, "Winning", I would seriously would have Chuck Norris round-housed him. Because there was no winning here. Just alot of "Owwwwww" and "(Words that have to be translated from the native tongue of people from the land of Cursewordavania to English".
But before I left I shared a true father and son moment, with my dad.
I walked up to him and asked him, "What do we tell mom?"
Because if she saw this cut, we both would be S.O.L.
He took a second to think it over and told me to tell her that I was just trimming a tree and I cut myself.
Mr. Honest Abe... Pisses me off.
So I embarked on the journey home, I called my brother to ask if my mom was home/if we had any medical tape. I got a no on both accounts.
Because we did not have medical tape I had to stop at CVS on the way home.
And in case you just joined this blog, the score is 2-6 and I AM STILL BLEEDING.
I rush into the CVS, see the aisle that says, "First-Aid". And externally exclaim, "Bingo".
The medical tape cost me 11 dollars. I asked the cashier if I could get a discount because of my hand.
She said no.
It was worth a shot.
First thing I did when I got home was I played the guitar.
That was a bad choice.
A very bad choice.
So I took a nap instead. Now I do not know if that nap was because I was tired or because of the loss of blood. If we were in Vegas betting on this one, I would say it was a "push" on the over-under because it was too close to call.
Then my dad came home and the first thing he said was, "How is the hand?"
I replied, "Well, still hurts."
He then said, "Alright, let's fix you up before mom gets home."
Then my mom came home...
Did some yard work for one of my grandma's friends, did some siding with my dad and I pruned a tree.
Oh, and did I also mention I sliced my hand with a bow saw?
I feel like a casually just slipped that in there.
(That's what she said)
And you now may be asking yourself silenty or aloud how the title Dinkleberg comes into play. Well my friends, that is how this story begins...
It was a perfectly temperate June afternoon. I had just finished installing a rock garden for Judy and she said she needed a tree in the front yard that needed to be trimmed. I asked my father if he was sure if I should do this.
Not because of the fact that involved sharp objects, but because I did not know the first thing about properly and symetrically trimming a tree.
But Judy but me at ease when she said, "I do not care what you do, just as long as the basstard does not touch the house".
Fair enough.
So first just started using clippers to do away with the weak leaves and what have you. But there were some stern but fair branches that needed to get sawed.
Enter Sandman.
A.k.a.: Enter Owwwwww.
I knocked out the few branches like Tyson in his hey day. Then there was this one branch that would not break off.
So I kept on sawing and sawing. It still would not break.
Then I saw red.
My first actual thought and reaction was:
"Wait, trees don't bleed".
I was about to call over my dad to check it out when I noticed my hand looked weird.
Yup.
Now you know that scene in Young Frankenstein when Frankenstein (Peter Boyle) has his thumb lit on fire by the friar (irony)/(Gene Hackman).
Similar reaction.
Once I noticed it was not the tree but my left hand. Well, shit got real so to speak.
And I uttered a vast sample platter of profanity and the phrase, "Damn you Dinkleberg... Mary Poppins, bitch tits".
I knew it was bad not because I just mangled my hand with a bow saw, but because it turned me, a 6 foot 2 nineteen-year-old man with facial hair into a five-year-old. My hand was gushing blood, (Like full on Quetin Tarantino movie) and I ran to my dad.
(Also I am pretty sure I saw my knuckle bone)
(Not going to lie, I kind of thought that was pretty badass)
He looked at me and I looked at him and I said, "Daddy, I got a cut".
Before I continue this story let me just take an aside.
(Aside)
If my dad was a hockey player, he would be a bruiser. The guy who gets hit in the mouth with puck, looses all his teeth and is gushing blood, then turns to his teammates and asks, "What happened" and then gets in a fight with the guy who hit him in the face with the puck.... Then gets stitches.
True story, while working in the garage he was using a power saw. The board slipped. He slice off about half of his index finger, yet he still turned off the saw, pick up his finger, turn off the light, grab a towel, walk from the garage to the house, go through the house to my brothers room and then tell him, "Yeah, I think I sliced off a part of my finger".
(Aside over)
So my dad knows a boo-boo when he sees one.
His reaction to me showing him my cut.
And I shat you not.
He looked at me, then looked at the cut, then he looked at me and said,
"Yeah".
He ran inside to tell Judy and to get some alcohol and band-aids for the wound.
Judy was already on her way, because she heard me swearing and knew it wasn't because I missed the ice cream man.
Then I saw my dad with the brown bottle.
As I saw him walking to the door and I was clinching my blood soaked hand, I yelled at him, "Don't you dare put that on my hand, I swear to God I will punch you".
He did not listen.
He just grabbed my hand and said, "This is going to sting".
At least he was honest.
I appreciated how he chose just to pour it on the cut instead of dabbing it.
I swear I saw Jesus' eyes.
Then he wrapped it up and said, "'Tis but a scratch".
On the inside I giggled and gave him a mental tip-of-the-hat for incorporating Monty Python into this debacle. But on the outside all I could muster was, "I see what you're doing and I don't like it".
I got all bandaged up, and I went back to prunning the tree.
Judy was having none of that.
She pretty much paid me 80 dollars to go home.
It was at that moment that I made a completly adult, mature, and non-monetarily influenced decision to go home.
Except there was one elephant in the room with an inch wide (ball park estimate) cut on his hand, I had to ride my bike from her house which is literally the street that St. Joan Arc is on, to my house. Which is about two miles away. This time I had to do it with a mangled hand.
If Charlie Sheen was there and said, "Winning", I would seriously would have Chuck Norris round-housed him. Because there was no winning here. Just alot of "Owwwwww" and "(Words that have to be translated from the native tongue of people from the land of Cursewordavania to English".
But before I left I shared a true father and son moment, with my dad.
I walked up to him and asked him, "What do we tell mom?"
Because if she saw this cut, we both would be S.O.L.
He took a second to think it over and told me to tell her that I was just trimming a tree and I cut myself.
Mr. Honest Abe... Pisses me off.
So I embarked on the journey home, I called my brother to ask if my mom was home/if we had any medical tape. I got a no on both accounts.
Because we did not have medical tape I had to stop at CVS on the way home.
And in case you just joined this blog, the score is 2-6 and I AM STILL BLEEDING.
I rush into the CVS, see the aisle that says, "First-Aid". And externally exclaim, "Bingo".
The medical tape cost me 11 dollars. I asked the cashier if I could get a discount because of my hand.
She said no.
It was worth a shot.
First thing I did when I got home was I played the guitar.
That was a bad choice.
A very bad choice.
So I took a nap instead. Now I do not know if that nap was because I was tired or because of the loss of blood. If we were in Vegas betting on this one, I would say it was a "push" on the over-under because it was too close to call.
Then my dad came home and the first thing he said was, "How is the hand?"
I replied, "Well, still hurts."
He then said, "Alright, let's fix you up before mom gets home."
Then my mom came home...
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Best Baseball Hats Ever
It is my baseball nerd dream that for one month of the season every single team wears their respective throwback uniforms.
How awesome would it be to see the Tigers and the Yankees face off against each other in their uniforms from 1918?
Or have the Giants face the Dodgers, and have them wear their throwbacks from when they played in New York and Brooklyn.
Major League Baseball should embrace the most historically rich sport in North America. Not drift away from it.
Also, I would love to see the Tigers wear the Detroit Stars uniforms more than once a year.
Again, I am a baseball nerd.
24. Song you cannot resist singing along with
Now when I think of this subject, I think of a song that you just have to blare full volume. A song that you catch while driving in your car and you just start belting out the vocals like you are at Radio City Music Hall.
No song makes me want to do this more than...
Drops of Jupiter by Train?
I dare you to look me in the eye and say, "Aaron, I have never once sang any part of this song out loud, while in my car... by myself while it was on the radio... or a pre-made burned Compact Disc". I dare you to say that, because I know you can not.
Everyone at one point sings this song whether they want to or not.
More often they say they do not want to, but deep down you know they do.
And truth be told up until three weeks ago I thought he said, "That Van Halen is overrated".
Turns out he says heaven.
But you know heaven/Van Halen (David Lee Roth years). Same difference.
Another song that is impossible to not sing along to is of course Tiny Dancer.
Probably one of the best chorus' ever written.
Tiny Dancer was made to be sung in a car.
And don't you dare say, "Hold me closer, Tony Danza".
Or I will cut you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xf-Lesrkuc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBS-fGJUVNY
No song makes me want to do this more than...
Drops of Jupiter by Train?
I dare you to look me in the eye and say, "Aaron, I have never once sang any part of this song out loud, while in my car... by myself while it was on the radio... or a pre-made burned Compact Disc". I dare you to say that, because I know you can not.
Everyone at one point sings this song whether they want to or not.
More often they say they do not want to, but deep down you know they do.
And truth be told up until three weeks ago I thought he said, "That Van Halen is overrated".
Turns out he says heaven.
But you know heaven/Van Halen (David Lee Roth years). Same difference.
Another song that is impossible to not sing along to is of course Tiny Dancer.
Probably one of the best chorus' ever written.
Tiny Dancer was made to be sung in a car.
And don't you dare say, "Hold me closer, Tony Danza".
Or I will cut you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xf-Lesrkuc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBS-fGJUVNY
Monday, June 13, 2011
23. Song that makes you feel calm/serene
Well, this one is another tie.
And for good reason. These three songs are some of the best songs ever written and my personal favorites.
They also happen to be very soothing songs that can calm my nerves or help me feel all happy and what not.
First, there is God Only Knows by the Beach Boys.
This song (in my opinion) is the greatest song ever written or at least in the top three. It is just beautiful. I really can not expand on the description of this song besides it is just beautiful. Brian Wilson is a Greek God.
Second, there is Nights In White Satin by the Moody Blues.
Perfect rainy day/late night drive/anytime song. Seeing this song live was an amazing experience. And also makes me think....
WHY ARE THEY NOT IN THE ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAME. DAYS OF FUTURE PASSED IS QUALIFICATION ENOUGH.
Third, the one the only Procol Harum with A Whiter Shade of Pale.
This song personally, is my favorite song of all-time. There are only two people on this Earth that I have come in contact with that appreciate and love this song as much as me. Those two people are my friend Craig and my dad.
I totally marked out when they played this song in my favorite movie Pirate Radio a.k.a. The Boat That Rocked.
God, this is such a perfect song.
And also...
PROCOL HARUM SHOULD BE IN THE HALL OF FAME TOO.
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