Archive for January, 2011


Black is the New Purple

“J-Man… Why do you wear black all the time?”
“Whats with the stupid gloves?”
“Why on earth are you wearing goggles?”
“Are your hands cold or something?”
“Forget to put on a color this morning?”
“Going snowboarding or something?”
“That must be very hot.”
“Um… What is on…. your hands”

I wear all black as a test.  People make so many snap judgements.  About everything.  If the fact that I’m wearing all black makes you not want to talk to me, then I didn’t want to talk to you in the first place.  Thats why I’m wearing all black.  So you won’t talk to me.

I just look good in black.

It amuses me that what I have on can affect the people around me so much.  Look at you, you’re actually bothered by my gloves.  See that girl over there?  She’s paying more attention to me than to her boyfriend.  Which is making her boyfriend pay attention to me.  I don’t actually crave the attention, I am just genuinely amused at how easy it is to get.  Good or bad, I walk into a room and people notice.  When I leave, they’re talking about me.  I love it.

Picture this scene
J-Man enters an 7eleven.  He picks up an Amp and a bottle of Dasani.  He walks to the register.  Behind the counter a fairly cute girl wearing black lipstick pretends to not be intrigued.  Her curiosity will get the best of her…
Goth Chick – Why are you wearing Gloves?
J-Man – So you’d ask me about them
Goth Chick – *giggle*
Do you have any idea how hard it is to make goth chicks giggle?  Its freakin impossible.

With even the littlest bit of wind, black is the coolest color you could wear.  People say it absorbs heat, but thats not true.  Think of white like a shield, and black like… I don’t know, something that allows things to pass through.  Not a shield.  White reflects the heat outside, yes, but it also keeps the heat inside in.  Black breathes, lets the wind blow your heat away.  Why do you think the nomads and crap wear all that black.  Because they’re cold?

Because I’m The J-Man.

Yes when the wind stops blowing I pretty much light on fire.

No my hands are not cold, I wear these for the look.

I’m not going snowboarding, but if I was, I’d be ready.

The whole look is really representative of J-Man as a person.  A 50/50 mix of trying too hard and not caring at all.  It’s the same concept behind the weird confidence I’ve got.  If you can manage to absolutely care about everything, and absolutely not care at the same time, the world becomes a fun place to live.  The “All Black/Fingerless Gloves/Goggles” is the official J-Man uniform now.  Its hecka easy, everything I own matches everything else.  It makes shopping incredibly simple.  Is it black?  Check.  Does it fit?  Check.  Sweet, I’ll take three.  I get up, I throw on whatevers handy, then walk outside and it looks planned.  It IS planned.  And at the same time not.  See what I’m sayin?

Gloves, little dude.

Seriously guys?   I don’t know.  I’m just as confused as you are.  Stop asking me you’re making my head hurt.

Late nights and meandering walks
Deep thoughts and long talks
A shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold
Always an “All in” never an “I fold”
Carving his name in a tree with a knife
Risking your friendship to save your life
Calling himself cool but he doesn’t believe it
Setting a goal, and failing to achieve it
Fragile and weak, scared and alone
The strong voice on the other side of the telephone
A super hero, untouchable, shatterproof
An enigma, both warm and aloof
Laughing at the word “aloof” as he writes on the page
A bit actor with a lead role, life is a stage
Catching you falling before you slip
Falling himself, he cant help but trip
Hiding the cracks under a cocky shell
Wearing it proudly, it has served him well
Completely flawed and completely confident
Believing that every moment is heaven sent
Closing his eyes, he’s afraid of the dark
Hanging his life on your thoughtless remark
Rubbing your shoulder to ease the pain
Breaking a bone, calling it a sprain
Wanting your number, but refusing to ask
Running the show and coming in last
Reading your words and soaking them in
Reading your face and hating his sin
Romancing your girl, better watch your back
Cutting corners, saving time, picking up the slack
Wearing all black just to see what you’ll say
12 on a 10 scale, all day, every day

If you’re not in them, and no one’s having sex… who cares? This one’s about my dreams, and you’ll notice there’s an “emo” tag. You’ve been warned.

I had a dream about time travel. Time machines had been invented and weren’t that hard to make use of, but you could only use them once. Forward or back to any year you want, but where you go, you stay. I went backwards. I think my logic was to live in “simpler times”.

The history I went back to wasn’t accurate at all. There were elements in it from multiple decades, and this actually didn’t make sense to me IN the dream. The main feel was early 1900’s (steampunk fan much?). I was in the USA, but we were using Swiss Francs. I specifically had an issue with this because I had gone back with American dollars from the time I was supposed to be going to, and had to find a way to get money that was usable. I got accepted into some sort of ivy league university, studying to become a lawyer. An old friend of mine, Matt Holly, was there… twice. I guess he had gone back in time to go to school, but there was already a Matt Holly there, for reasons I don’t understand and didn’t get to explore.

Liv Tyler was in all my classes. I met her at registration and immediately turned on the charm (of course). I think somehow I ended up getting assigned to live in the closet of her and her roommates dorm, due to the boys dorm being full (give me a break, it was a dream). She was the obvious love interest in this picture, but it never got that far. The setup happened. We got assigned a partners project in our Business/Economics class.  We were supposed to be acting out a retail transaction where one of us was supposed to buy some sort of 3D player (super anachronism) from the other one. We were sitting in the classroom after class had ended, and I noticed she looked sad about something. When I asked her about it, she started to cry, but before I could get her to tell me what was wrong, I woke up.

I opened my eyes and stared at the side of my bed reserved for my phone, laptop, reading material, laundry, and other random storage, and was just bothered. I knew I was dreaming while I was dreaming, but I think that may have made the sense of… [loss? sadness? lonliness? lack of accomplishment?] that I felt, worse. It allowed me to wish it was real while I was experiencing it, knowing it was going to end.

I have a recurring dream about Monterey and cigars. There’s a special shop there that I couldn’t find if I wanted to. I walk around it just taking in the rich smells. I’m not alone. The girl that I’m with shows me her favorites. She picks up Claros and Colorados and Maduros, showing them to me and explaining the differences. We head back into the smoking room after selecting a couple. I let her do most of the selecting. The guy running the shop, who’s been flirting with her since we walked in, comes back briefly. He senses that flirting is as far as he’s going to get, and he heads back to the front of the store after some small talk. She sits in my lap and we slowly fade into a haze of smoke and memories. She tells me stories about her dad. She cries. I hold her. When we leave, it’s dark outside. Were we really in there that long? We walk down to the beach hand in hand. We talk, we argue, we laugh. We share our first kiss on a beach in Monterey. Someone takes a picture of it. The flash wakes me up.

I know immediately why there was a picture taken at that moment.  It’s because the picture hangs on the wall in my room above my bed.  It’s blank, of course, because it hasn’t actually been taken. Never will be taken.

I just realized that Liv Tyler reminds me of her.

Damn these dreams. Taunting me with things that are just… out of reach. I often wake up with tears in my eyes, like part of me knew the dream was ending and had started crying before I was actually concious.  The sadness only lasts as long as it takes me to shake myself fully awake, but while it’s there, it’s deep.  I practiced lucid dreaming for a while, hoping that I could eventually control them.  Instead they just became more real.  I was able to remember them more clearly.  Figures…  This is probably why I don’t sleep very often.