R.I.P. My Autobi-Blography

Okay, after ripping tumblr in my previous post, I figured it'd only be fair if I went ahead and got myself one. So I did. Which makes me two things - unoriginal and a hypocrite. Deal with it.

vinnybstone.tumblr.com

All future incoherent rants and incomprehensible raves will appear there and not here. I mean, really...who wants a blogspot anyway? Just sounds like something that you can't get out of your nice, new shirt. At least tumblr reminds me of clean laundry. It's been fun, blogspot. Stay gold.

Eulogy for a Dead Horse

Dearly beloved (and Fran):

We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of a man who, quite frankly, was not really a man at all. He was a horse. He also was not a living horse. Today marks the umpteeth anniversary of our favorite dead horse, who has given us far more pleasure in death than he ever did in life. This is not the same horse who happily trotted the very acres of Fran's endless daisy-spotted farmland. And this horse is hardly similar to the horse who once sneezed on Agnes' youngest daughter after she had accidentally puked Cheerios into the horse's unkempt mane and everybody laughed because they were both babies and it is quite laughable when babies do things that only babies are keen on doing. No, friends. This is a horse who knew all too well the beatings that life can hand you, sometimes with sticks and sometimes with very large sticks. For Lord Jesus knows what reason, It has always seemed right. You shouldn't kick a man when he's down. You should ravage that man, limb from limb, and use each appendage to bludgeon your favorite dead horse, who in this case is the horse we are speaking of.

The man that stands before you now, cloaked in the darkest of dark formal attire, has a confession to offer. I, admittedly for too long, have encouraged the beating of one such dead horse. And felt nothing. No guilt or regret has ever graced my conscience with its presence. I haven't even asked myself any sort of question, like "Isn't is kind of savage to continually and forcefully beat the living shit out of a defenseless animal?" No. I just beat. And laugh. And beat some more. Well, it ends today. It ends now. It ends, meine freunde, with us...

(TO BE CONTINUED)

Silver Lights

I wrote a poem about something, I'm not quite sure what. Not yet, at least. Just kidding, I know exactly what it's about! Maybe...

Silver Lights

When sleep is all that's left,
my eyes recite the words I've kept within my head.
And here they'll reside, tucked away for the night
to lose meaning between the ceiling and my bed.
Then my brain will conjure things
and I'll feel no guilt or regret
because the thoughts I think are things
I'm sure I'll just as soon forget.

So while you're saving other’s lives
and I can’t make time for mine,
you’ll make it a point to rebuild what’s destroyed
while my hands sit idly by.
But if you’re headed somewhere
where the clouds are silver lights,
I beg you take me with you.
Never let me leave your sight.

Then when I wake, the feeling's fake
cause in my sleep, my soul you take
And where words fail, a fever breaks.
In my head, a million lakes
of sights and sounds swim ‘round like snakes,
inching slowly toward their prey
to mirror every move it makes.

But as I’m watching from afar,
Admiring all the things you are,
Love’s a mystery to me.
Love’s a criminal at large.
So if you're headed somewhere
where it isn't safe to walk,
why not let me be the shoes
you use to climb upon the rocks?

Broken sticks sit by my side
Piled nice, but never dry.
And if they never make a fire,
then the wood will slowly die.
But the rockets won't go high
without the sparks on which to fly.
And it just wouldn’t be July
without explosions in the sky.

So while I’m staring into eyes
of unrivaled shape and size,
I’m just waiting on a word,
something heaven hasn’t heard.
And if you’re headed somewhere
where the darkness shall remain,
I hope you shine a light on me
so you can see I came.

And I'll never let you wither like a flower without rain.
No, I'll send to you a shower so a flower you’ll remain.

#1 Thing I'll Miss About Home

So it's come down to this. The absolute number one thing that I will miss about home when I leave tomorrow. I could throw you a curveball and say something like "Frosted Flakes" or something equally meaningless that would leave you scratching your head for answers. But while I'm a pretty weird kid, I'm not that weird. If you don't already know what this blog post is going to be about, then you're clueless. You should have seen this coming a mile away:

Just kidding.

This.

#2 Thing I'll Miss About Home

Friends.

Don't think this post needs an explanation.

#3 Thing I'll Miss About Home

Pittsburgh sports.

BOOM.

BOOM.

Eh, not so much boom.

But there is no better city in the world when it comes to sports and sports fans, so moving away from Pittsburgh will definitely suck when it comes to that. Especially considering I'll now be walking amongst Washington Capitals fans for the foreseeable future. But I guess it will only serve to remind me how truly lucky I am to be from Pittsburgh. Can't even imagine what Redskins fans do on Sunday. Cut the grass? Sad.

#4 Thing I'll Miss About Home

The ladies.

This is the house I’ve lived in while experiencing various relationships with various girls. Maybe I’ve sat on the computer for an inordinate amount of time talking to you on AIM. Maybe I’ve sat on the basement floor talking to you on the phone at two in the morning because I think that I talk loud and that’s the furthest spot from everyone who’s sleeping. Maybe you even came over and challenged me to a game of basketball, then almost made me cry after you beat me one-on-one. Whoever you were and whatever we did, I guarantee it was fun. Now I feel that I owe a thank you to each and every girl I once thought was the Pinta to my Santa Maria. So, without mentioning names, thank you all for the memories!