it's tough, you know? i just feel like ever since that day, with my dad and my brother, i've been in the middle. i was in the middle then, i'm in the middle now. i feel like with my help is the only way this is ever going to get fixed. my brother keeps saying "this doesn't involve you" or "don't let yourself get involved; it's between me and dad". my dad keeps saying "he's gone his own way; nobody can help him."

we're all stubborn. my dad refuses to talk to my brother unless my brother talks to him first, my brother refuses to talk to my dad unless my dad responds to his email, and i refuse to back out, even though no matter how hard i try they won't make contact. it's a predicament.

The Brothers' Birthday

me and my bro got our birthdays rolled into one today.

but first, yesterday.
we went down to wannabe beach, where someone with way too much time on their hands had made a meditation circle out of sand (yes, that's right. a meditation circle. look it up. there was one at my brother's wedding. it was awesome.). We walked the circle, talked about what was going on in my life, as well as season 3 of the office, which i have yet to see. then we played video games until it was time for lights out.
and today was the cool part. imagine something cooler than that. jeez.

we (jonathan, gina and i) have a running joke about how my name was once misspelled "amelio", and how i can be referred to as "a melio" as opposed to the plural form, "milii". you have to know this to get it. anyway, we were driving to this place to surprise jonathan (it was basically a huge arcade) and gina passes me back a piece of paper, saying, "hey, emilio, can you read me these directions?"

the note, in sum and substance, said that there would soon be milii. my brother and his wife are naming one of their twin boys after me.

awesome!

it's an honor beyond words.

but yeah, so today -- or, should i say yesterday, since it's past midnight? -- we played at the arcade for about four or five hours, then headed down to this great barbecue place, and afterwards went for ice cream.

then we went back to the apartment and i played with addison for a bit. yup. i'm a proud uncle.

What Can You Do?

i stayed the night at my bro's. and while i wait for him to wake up, i'm taking the time to think back. this probably isn't good for me.
getting anonymous comments from my friends doesn't help either.
life really is a weird thing. i mean, you pray for something -- all you do for two years is pray -- and you finally get it, and then you find a way to screw it up. then you pray some more for it to last...but this time, prayer doesn't work. it's very discouraging.
but hey, what can you do? that's life.
i'm gonna go back to sleep now. i only got five hours.

"While We Wait" by Jack Johnson

"it feels right
it feels wrong
feels like when you have it
then it's gone"

this song makes me wonder about loss. more like it makes me remember in a thoughtful way. i don't know. it's just that when i listen to this song, i'm taken back to the poetry section of barnes and noble on that day, and for some reason i feel detached. i'm looking at it like a sympathetic outsider: feeling the pain, not wanting to, and all at once unable to take it in -- despite the fact that i was there for it all.
i was there for every damned second of it. and now i'm realizing that, you know what? the biggest mistake you can make in a relationship is getting involved in the first place.
this whole ordeal has made a bitter man out of me.

Ready, Set...

i'm packing for chicago. at around 1, i'm due to see adrian in the park for some chess and coffee, and then my flight is at five. so i've got to get everything done ahead of time today.
eleven hours left until i land on my home turf!

jack johnson currently holds the title of favorite artist. i'm listening to "sleep through the static" right now.

Just. Plain. Amazing.

http://hypem.com/track/86636

i'm listening to the strings mix of "hide and seek" by imogen heap right now. i don't know if words can describe it. and my friend johnny is literally in love with this girl's voice. i can't imagine if he heard the strings mix. he might faint.
i am convinced that this song is a high.
melissa (my sister of non-relation) introduced me to this song. i remember that day. i remember every time we listened to it together. like that morning last winter when the sun was painting the snow in the park golden, and we just listened to it to quiet down the cars and the conversation so we could just chill and have something meaningful.
i miss melissa. i wish i could run into her right now and just go outside and enjoy the weather and catch up and be nostalgic. but she switched schools. so i've got to talk to her through martin, which is a pain to do.

i'm leaving for chicago in two days. i've been counting down the hours. i really can't wait to be there. if i could be right now, i would.
i want to play chess with my dad and my bro. i'm dying for that. it's been way too long. sure, i've got chess club tomorrow, but it's not the same.

Returning to "A Feeling Like Home"

Chris and Danny were back in town for the weekend—“I’m getting sick of college,” Chris had told Jon on the phone—and we were sure as hell going to make the best of it. We were throwing a party.
Megan was in charge of cleaning Jon’s basement, Jon was getting drinks courtesy of the River Styx, and I was supposed to be helping Megan, but we pretty much just kept each other company and cozied up on the couch since Jon’s basement was clean already. So basically, it was just Jon getting drinks while me and Megan waited for him to get back.
We had about an hour until Jon would arrive with Chris, Danny, and alcohol, so we just lay down and relaxed.
“I’m kind of uncomfortable with Danny being back,” Megan admitted.
I shrugged against the leather of the sofa. “Why be? I hear he’s with some new girl, Sara, now.”
“I know; Jon told me too. It’s just that…” she hesitated. “I feel bad for being the reason you two fought.”
“You mean for being the reason Danny just beat the crap out of me.”
“Yeah.” From the look in her eyes, I figured that what I said had only made it worse.
I kissed her. “That’s in the past,” I said. “Everybody involved has moved on.”
“But I don’t know about Danny.”
That was it. I really didn’t want to—it was between me and Danny—but I had to tell her. “Just trust me on this; he’s over it. He’s done some growing up. Before he left, he told me to make sure I was good to you. And it was the way he said it. I mean, you saw the look on his face when we were all saying goodbye. Just trust me.”
“Okay.” She kissed me and smiled. I smiled back and held her closer.

Five minutes to go, and we were both sleeping. Thank God that Megan’s phone rang when it did.
After assuring Jon, who was on his way, that everything was ready, we both scrambled to get everything ready. Megan raced around with the vacuum while I moved everything on the floor out of the way. Within five minutes, we did a pretty good job, and stowed the vacuum. We sat on the couch, as far away from each other as possible, with our hands folded, like misbehaving schoolchildren pulling their act together just as the teacher walks in. It reminded me of when I was in elementary school. I even held my back straight for once. It was just one of those moments of priceless absurdity. I was grinning from ear to ear.
That was when Jon walked in with Chris and Danny at his back and the party began.
We stood up and said “hey” and “good to see you”. Megan hugged Chris and Danny; I shook their hands and pulled them in close for a quick pat on the back. Danny didn’t look much different, but Chris had a beard and had traded in his leather for a pea coat like mine and Jon’s. I pointed this out and he shrugged. “College is ruining my rebellious nature,” he explained.
Then Jon waved the paper bags from the River Styx, to kick off the festivities, and Megan went and got some glasses and ice from the cabinet upstairs. The rest of us sat down, and Chris and Danny relayed stories of California and all the strange people there.
We were in stitches, I swear. It was that funny.
Me and Megan passed a glass of iced Disaronno back and forth as this went on, and Jon had lined up four shots of Jack Daniel’s on the footrest, two apiece for Danny and Chris. For himself, he poured a whole glass of the stuff.
“For some reason,” he slurred later on, “I’ve always had a higher tolerance for alcohol than Danny or Chris.”
Yeah right. That one got us all laughing.

We were about an hour into partying and all of us were pretty loosened up when Jon’s phone rang.
He laughed a little drunken laugh as he put it to his ear. “’Ello?” He smiled and nodded, but after about five seconds his face went slack and his eyes widened.
I figured his parents were on the way or something, and quietly stored the bottles of alcohol under the couch.
Another fifteen seconds of listening to someone talk on the other line and Jon nodded. “Alright. I’ll be there. Bye.” He hung up and looked at me. “I’ve got to go.”
“What happened?”
Jon shook his head. “Some idiot fell asleep with a cigarette in my cousin’s apartment building. Al was pulled out dead about five minutes ago.”

"Victoria" by John Mayer

john mayer now holds the title of favorite artist. i got his itunes essentials collection, and the one song that i never had by him -- "victoria" -- now has my complete attention. That, and his funky rendition of "i got a woman" from the TRY! album.
but right now, it's the story of this girl victoria that's the most gripping.

hey, victoria came by
victoria came by tonight
hey, victoria came by
she says to say goodbye

it's the truest thing, really. artists take what they experience and they make it art. it's just what we do. whether it be the world around us as we experience it, a woman's touch (or lack thereof), or life in general. it only makes sense that for an artist to grieve, he must express the pain and loss in an artistic fashion.
part of what irritates me about the misconceptions and false pretenses surrounding the word "emo", while we're on the artist's grieving process: "emo" does not mean someone who sits at home cutting themselves, or someone characterized by tight jeans and black eyeliner. "emo" does not qualify someone as a pathetic, complaining wuss.
emo is more profound than all the shallow stereotypes and misconceptions. emo is when an artist pours out their heart and soul into a work. it could be a song, a poem, a painting, a book...anything in which emotion and feeling becomes manifest. damien rice is emo. dashboard confessional is emo. even john mayer can be emo at times; listen to "i'm gonna find another you" or "comfortable".
anything that can register as poignant is emo. hanging out with friends, laughing it up and feeling nostalgic can be emo, for pete's sake.
so why does everybody associate "emo" with negativity, depression and despondency?
it eludes me.

Another Scene from "A Feeling Like Home" (which will probably be edited out anyway)

I had always missed those Where's Waldo? books. I could spend hours hunting for the guy. It made me wonder: how can some dude in striped clothes, wearing a hat and carrying a cane, be so hard to find?

So, to make things easier for everyone else, I went out and got the clothes and the cane so I could be Waldo for Halloween.

I was waiting on Megan's bed, because she had snuck into the bathroom with a load of makeup and some clothes and I had no idea what she was going to come out as.

Besides, I just liked Megan's bed. First of all, it was so comfortable I could swear I'd just died and gone to heaven. Second, it gave a great view of her room: the twisted mural on her ceiling, full of different scenes flowing into one another; the splash of black paint on her wall that she altered so that it looked like some sort of flaming tiger; her desk, crammed with scribbled notes from school and random sketches; and her backpack in the corner, with sketchbooks spilling out. Her room was an instant high, a supernova of sensory overload. It's why none of us did drugs. We just came over to Megan's house and sat in her room for a bit.

Then she came out, and at first I thought she was someone from an old movie: she had on white gloves, a black-and-white striped shirt, black pants, black shoes, and her face was painted all white. Then I spotted the beret, and the black eyeliner making her eyes stand out.

She shrugged and smiled.

"What?" I laughed.

She zipped her lips.

"A mime?"

Then she shrieked and jumped on me. "He got it! He got it! Waldo got it!" After we both got our laughs out, she cleared her throat and stepped back. "I've got to get into character," she explained.

I just stood up and kissed her. I didn't know what else to do or say. It was that cute.

i saw the ice cream man today

spring is here. at times in the near future it might not seem like it, but still, spring is here. and that means summer is also on the way.
i wonder what next year will bring.
yes, the ice cream man's song is what got me thinking about all this.

the bell rings. the mindframe switches. i'm out in the hall, on the way to my next class, worrying about my life outside, and getting caught up in an ebb and flow of wandering thought just as much as i am shifted by the tide of students around me.
push, shove. step, slide. slip between them, sneak past here, and i'm through the crowd. it becomes an art form after three years.
then i'm through the door and back in the hotseat, buckling in for next period.

"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me..."

as of 5:something a.m. this morning, i am 17.
it kind of freaks me out that this time next year, i'll be of legal age to be snatched up by the army.
i've been thinking a lot about my future lately because of this.

first of all, when i get out of high school, i'm getting out of this state. i'm going to chicago to move in with my dad. my brother offered to hook me up with a job at UPS, and his wife offered to do research for me into inexpensive colleges with good programs for literature majors. i'll join a writer's workshop for a while, release a novel or two, and then, when i can afford it, go apartment hunting.
who knows; maybe in that writer's workshop i can meet somebody new.

wish me luck. i start buckling in for the ride today.

Picking Up After That Last Cliffhanger

I guess I decided right then, right there, despite the fact that Danny was bigger than me—since he and Chris worked out more than anyone else I knew—to be honest and just tell him the truth.

To be honest and truthful, though, the prospect scared the hell out of me.

The two of us walked to the lighthouse, with everyone else following to see what happened. My nerves were getting to me, so I lit a cigarette and leaned up against the railing. “What’s up?” I asked.

“What’s going on with you and Megan?” he shot back.

I thought about it for a second, puffing at my cigarette as slowly as I could. I’m going to tell you straight out. I kissed her. Finally, I shook my head. “Nothing I gotta tell you, Dan. Really, I think it’s our business.”

He hit me across the face. Hard. I tasted blood, so I spat over the railing. Sure enough, it came out red.

Then he hit me again, harder this time. “What’ve you got to hide, Sam? What is it you don’t want to tell me?”

I wanted to tell him the truth. I swear I did. But it was an easier decision to make than to carry out.

Next thing I knew, Jon had Danny by the back of his shirt and was pulling him away from me. Then Danny was up against the rail, with Jon in his face.

“Do you really want to know that badly?”

Silence. I started to step towards them to stop Jon, but before I could:

“It was her, alright? She…kissed…him.”

Danny threw him off and turned on me, knocking me so hard my cigarette went flying. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted.

I didn’t even bother punching back. It wouldn’t have done me any good. “I didn’t do anything!” I spread my arms.

“What do you call kissing Megan then?”

“Listen to Jon, damn it! She kissed me! Why the hell are you making such a big deal out of it, anyway?”

Before Dan could charge on me again, Chris grabbed him and pulled him back. Chris looked embarrassed and furious all at once. “What’s the matter with you, Danny? Megan is free to choose Sam if she wants. Why don’t you get that?”

Danny was quiet. He started looking embarrassed now too.

“Let’s go home, okay?”

Danny shot me one last look, like he was wondering if I was really a friend, and then nodded. “Alright.”

Chris shoved him in the direction of the pickup, and turned back to me. “I’m sorry about this, man. He’s just got to cool down.”

I rubbed some blood out of my eyebrow and watched it drip down my hand. “It’s okay,” I answered after a minute. “Really.”

“Whatever you say. We’re gonna lay low for a while, guys. See you around.” He waved, and me, Jon and Megan waved back. I really didn’t know what to say anymore.

Yet Another Excerpt from "A Feeling Like Home"

We were all riding to the beach: Danny and Chris in the front, and me and Megan in the back. Jon was sitting between me and Megan, because I had already told him what happened.
All of us in the backseat were tense. Jon was now an accessory to a crime: I had kissed the girl Danny had had his eyes on for years. We all knew that when Danny found out he would flip. So we all kept quiet to keep it from getting in the open.
That's when Chris started to laugh. "C'mon, guys, am I driving around dead bodies or something? Show me that you're alive!"
"I'm alive," I said.
"I'm alive," Jon added.
"I'm alive," Megan finished.
We all laughed, but Chris only offered a chuckle. "Doesn't sound much like it."

Once we got to the beach, we had to make up for the car ride and shake off whatever suspicions Danny or Chris might have had.
Chris busted out the Frisbee and next minute, we were cracking jokes and tossing it around -- most of the time missing horribly, but hey, we were having a good time. This was what life was about.
I tried to keep from making eye contact with Megan, but we still managed to get a few throws back and forth. And I guess as it was all happening I realized, just by the way I was watching her smile and laugh, and the way she would close her eyes when she was cracking up -- I thought that was adorable -- I guess I just realized right then that I had really liked her since the first time I saw her, and that now it was getting to be something more by the minute.
"Sam!"
Thunk.
The Frisbee fell to the sand. I picked it up and tossed it to Jon, who looked worried,. I laughed to try and cover up what had just happened, but Danny wasn't buying it. "What's up?" he called.
"Nothing, man." I shook my head. "Just got lost in thought for a sec."
"About Megan?"
Jesus. I had been watching her that whole time? I thought fast. "Yeah, I was just remembering that night in your backyard when we were all lying back and watching the sky. You remember what she said about the stars?"
"Yeah," Megan chimed in. "I was just quoting The Perks of Being a Wallflower."
"Well, it was a good line." I caught the Frisbee and tossed it to Danny, and he chucked it aside.
"We need to talk," he said, and I knew from the look on his face that I was screwed.

Another Excerpt from "A Feeling Like Home"

Me and Jon were at Wannabe Beach -- at least that's what we called it anyway, because nobody goes there during the summer or ever -- and we, at 11:15 p.m., were alone. We smoked cigarettes and talked about life and things in general, and he gave me a cigarette case for my birthday, and we filled it up, and as I put it away I laughed and said, "God, I feel like a Londonite or something." Then we walked out by the lighthouse and screamed at the top of our lungs, leaning over the railing so that water was right underneath us, just for fun. It felt like that scene from Garden State.
But summer was coming to an end, and I just wished I could miss the month of September altogether. It reminded me of the days before I heard of Damien Rice, and when Green Day was still good, when I would listen to "Wake Me Up When September Ends" over and over, endlessly.
I could have gone for that song right then, but Jon's headphones were blaring "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap.
That worked too, I guess.