My Thoughts Are Pollution

Coming-of-age ramblings that don't mean much in the long run

Month: October, 2015

Thank You, Mr. Wilson.

The man who got me started playing guitar passed away from his cancer just the other day. He died young, too. He was the music teacher at my high school, but that’s not giving him enough credit. He was so much more than just the music teacher there. He was the reason people were passionate about music at my school. He had huge classes, but always found time to help every individual who was struggling. He was much more concerned with the students than he was with having some perfect curriculum, or whatever.

He was also the most talented musician I have ever met in my life. He could have done anything with his talent. He could have made money as a studio musician with ease, if you want to argue that achieving fame is too reliant on luck. But he used all of that talent to teach instead. And he taught so many people. I knew so many people who played guitar because he taught them. He brought music to my world, and to hundreds, if not thousands of others. He was a fantastic teacher, and all you had to do was be willing to learn.

There’s a lot more I could say about him, I just haven’t had much time to process all of this. This is… this is the first death in my life that actually brought tears to my eyes. I’ve never felt a real connection to anyone else who has died in my periphery, but Mr. Wilson taught me the one thing I have that really sets me apart from other people. He’s the reason I can do something that not everyone in the world can do. Sure, I’m not the greatest in the world at guitar, but if I didn’t have this skill at all, I might have killed myself out of sheer lack of confidence before now. I don’t know that for sure, I guess, so I’m not going to say that I’m alive because of him. But I do feel more alive because of him. And I know he brought that feeling to so many other people.

I wrote a bit of a song about it. My feelings about it are very jumbled up right now, and I’ve always had a difficult time writing about death. But this is what I got, and it’s dedicated to Mr. Wilson. Thanks for everything.

There’s no such thing as ghosts
But my room felt so damn warm
when it should’ve felt cold
There’s nowhere that we go
And I know that you were trying
God, I’m so afraid of dying

I wish the world was where I was
For those years that you knew us
But the world will never know
what I know

But I
You’re fine

I am where I am
I have what I have
It’s the one thing in my life
that I’ve worked for
and I have what I have
and I am who I am
This is the one thing in my life
that I have worked for

And I
do anything

From my first C chord
to right now

And I
You’re fine


To Be More Than Human

I often see my favorite musicians obsessed over. I’ve done it myself, to an extent, though it has slowed as I’ve gotten older. It’s just kind of hard for me to watch as these people are practically worshiped. Not because the weird-obsessive culture freaks me out in any way, but because it makes me worry about… well, myself. My greatest dream is obviously to be a respected artist in some capacity, be it from writing a poem, blog, book, song, or album or, you know, anything. I want to be one of those people who other people look up to. It’s just that, when I think about myself, I can’t find any facet of my being that is worth obsessing over. There is no mystery to me. I’m just a boy or a man or a person or whatever who has some issues and perhaps a little talent. There’s nothing over-the-top about me. I’m not full-blown crazy like Max Bemis was for a time; I haven’t killed myself like Kurt Cobain did; I haven’t (allegedly) killed my girlfriend like Sid Vicious did. I’ve been hospitalized once for cutting myself and feeling suicidal. I’m on medication. I play guitar and had a bad breakup that I’m pretty stuck on, musically. I was almost killed in a fire. And maybe that one in particular sticks out as an interesting part of my life, but that’s all that it is. It’s not a part of who I am, and it’s certainly not something worth worshiping.I feel unqualified to create something when the creators I admire most are as revered as they are. I don’t deserve to be revered. I have never done and never will do anything that will make anyone’s jaw drop.

It just makes me scared that I’m not like them. It makes me think I’ll never make it.

This Is Still True Love

She said
“Come get high with me
we can smoke until the room is thick
with air we cannot breathe
Come get high with me
And I will love you for an hour
But I can’t promise anything.”

And I
believe in drugs and alcohol.

I think I saw your face
when I fell asleep
in my fuckin’ bathtub.
All this time, erased
I turn the shower on
and close my eyes.

And I
believe in drugs and alcohol.

I swear she said,
“Come get high with me
We will drink until we’re friends
with all our greatest enemies
Come get high with me
and I will love you for an hour
but for that hour, endlessly.”

I came to in the yard
And I was trying not
to vomit out the poison
They say I try too hard
but the coughing has to stop
and it’s my motherfucking choice and
you can’t judge me
if you can see anything
past the next two weeks
of agony

So what if I
believe in drugs and alcohol
I will forever
believe in drugs and alcohol

So will you
come get high with me?
I love you so much sober,
but I can’t tell you while I still think
come get high with me
I will love you for forever
even if you don’t love me
but won’t you at least…
Come get high with me
There’s a million conversations
we can have before you leave
Come get high with me
And I will make you happy
for fucking eternity

I saw your face
as I fell asleep
on your floor.

That’s why I
believe in drugs and alcohol.

I Guess I’ll Post This

I’m concerned about my health.

The end. That’s all I’ve got to say. See ya! Like comment and subscribe!

Just kidding. I’m writing this in the middle of the night after waking up for the third time. I feel both extra aware and mildly drunk at the same time. I guess that’s Ambien for you.

Anyways, my health seems to be deteriorating rapidly, This mild cough that I’ve had for over sixadaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—-

Apparently I fell asleep with my finger pressing down the “A” key, as when I awoke, I had about seven pages of “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” to sift through.

I believe I was going on to talk about the fact that I’ve had a perpetual cough for the last six months and that I currently feel like shit. Yeah, I was just going to bitch and complain. But it’s true. I can’t stop fucking coughing and I want to spend the next two weeks in bed because I feel like a legitimately ill person.

Something Simple, Something Sweet

So, I have a small crush on someone.

A small one. Its not life-changing or earth-shattering or all-encompassing or any other dramatic phrase you can come up with, but it is there. And it’s more there than any of the other little crushes I’ve mentioned here before.

I mean, honestly, it’s just… nice. I like hanging out with her, but its not the end of the world when I don’t. I like talking to her, smoking cigarettes with her, and laughing with her, but it’s not something I need, the way I used to need it. I have no idea if she has any feelings resembling mine, and to be honest, I don’t really care. If she’s not into me, I’m still happy. This is the first romantic attraction I’ve had that feels entirely positive. There’s no worry when I’m not with her, no fear that she won’t like me, there’s none of that shit. I just like her and like being around her and find her incredibly attractive.

I’ve known her for a while now, but only recently started really feeling this way. I mean, I’ve obviously always found her attractive, but I’m long past the point in my life where finding someone attractive is the same as being attracted to them. I guess it was one little comment she made that got to me. It wasn’t even, like, a compliment or even really directed at me! She just mentioned how her ideal day involves hanging out at home rather than going out. Sure, hanging out at home might involve getting incredibly drunk or high or whatever, but she’d rather do that in her living room or bedroom than in a bar or at a party. For some reason, her saying that really hit me somewhere; I mean, I obviously feel similarly about the subject, but when she said that, it reminded me of all the other little things about her that I like. This one fact just sort of painted a more complete picture of her in my mind; and it was a really pretty picture.

And she does pay me compliments. They’re compliments I don’t deserve, but I can almost believe them when she says it. She doesn’t have any ulterior motives. She wouldn’t say anything nice if she didn’t mean it. I can just tell, or at least I think I can.

I just like her. She’s not bothered by my awkwardness, but not absorbed in it or obsessed with it the way my previous partners were. It’s just something that’s there and she works with it without feeling some constant need to tell me that it’s awesome. I don’t know exactly what it is about her that I like so much. She’s just very, very real and honest and I’m just happy to be around her. And if this doesn’t go anywhere in a romantic sense, that’s fine. She’s just cool and I like her and there’s no weirdness or strings attached. It feels good.

This Isn’t Very Good, but Whatever

You hate everyone
who ain’t rich, perfect and white
but Jesus died with darkened skin
penniless, and right
He said to all the angry people
“Why can’t we all just get along?”
he is a god I don’t believe in
but even he believes you’re wrong

I read your fucking book
and nowhere does it say
to treat somebody different
for being girly, poor or gay
Who are you to judge
I see you covered up in cuts
they are the things you haven’t done
yet, and they are sins in their own way

you cut your hair so short
because you are a manly man!
and your parents told you to
and you followed everything they planned
You are not a person,
you are just a machine
who are you to hate
on me?

I read your fucking book
and I just can’t figure out
where the hell you can get off
with all the bullshit that you spout
The god you are obsessed with
said none of those things
It’s the devil that you must
be worshipping.

I used to believe in god
I prayed every night
I prayed that everybody else
would be okay, be alright
I hoped that someone out there loved me
I once believed that he did
I know now that I was
just a stupid kid.
I hate you more than
You hate who you hate
I wish you the worst and
I hope you make a million mistakes
and they don’t let you in in the end.

Panic Attacks

I had another panic attack today.

I felt like I’ve been pretty under control for a while now, but this is the second or third time this has happened this month, and I’m realizing that I’ve had a few more episodes than I thought I did; I just kind of swept them under the rug as moments of “stress” or “disorientation”.

See, I took a very short nap today, (maybe about twenty minutes) and woke up from it in a complete daze. When I came to, I found that I couldn’t remember much of anything, nor was I capable of checking on the things that I couldn’t remember. It’s hard to explain; it wasn’t full-on amnesia or anything, as far as I’m aware. I just couldn’t bring anything to the forefront of my mind besides worry. I couldn’t figure out what time it was, what day it was, what events had already passed, or what events were coming up in the future. Everything was horribly jumbled up, and it caused some real fear in me. I couldn’t figure out if I had already worked today, still needed to go to work, if I needed to work tomorrow, or if it was morning or evening or whatever. I had no sense of time or place. I also found myself unable to figure out how exactly where and when I was. I had no context for the date and time, so when I looked at it on my cell phone, it meant nothing to me. It didn’t help me figure anything out at all.

I sat in my bad and freaked out for probably about twenty minutes before my senses started coming back to me. First, I realized I had already gone to work today and that calmed me down quite a bit. I didn’t have to get ready for anything and there was nothing that I was at risk of being late for. The next thing I managed to piece together was that I had awoken from a nap and not a night of sleep, which is obvious in retrospect but I was incapable of figuring out at the time. After those two pieces of information came to me, I was able to truly calm down, after which the rest of my memories came back.

Still, what an absolutely harrowing experience. To add to that, it’s actually the second time it’s happened in the last month, and it’s happened several times over the last few months. After the moments pass, it’s very easy to sweep these things under the rug and pretend they were minor incidents, but I know they aren’t. They’re really awful and I need to talk to both my therapist and psychiatrist about them the next time that I see them.

This is the First Love Song I’ve Written in Literally Years

She always says she don’t burn bright
but what’s the point of burning bright
if the lighthouse that you are
leads the ship away
I always think about myself
but talk about somebody else
I’ll never make it very far
oh, I’ll just slip away

I just want to sing a love song
but I don’t have a muse
the only girl that comes to mind
when I’m singing, girl, is you

I don’t think I’ll fall in love
but maybe I’ll get close
If that’s what you want.
I don’t believe too much in love
but baby, I don’t know
just tell me what you want.

You just want to hear a love song
but I am running dry
So you wet your lips and lay them down
right across mine

They say that fireworks
are best seen up close
but my favorite part of fireworks
is looking at the smoke
and I’m looking at the smoke
from your cigarette
and I smile wide

I just want to be a love song
If you would be one too
’cause the only girl that comes to mind
when I’m loving, girl, is you


I don’t think I’ll fall in love
but I’ve been wrong before
I don’t think I’ve had enough
of wanting you more.

More Front Bottoms Lyrics

“Back before I got struck by lighting,
And things were so much different than they are now.
I got a lot more people leaning on me
And all I wanna do is make them proud
But this is my body
The only thing that I own entirely
And it’ll carry me to greatness somehow
So you can tie me up,
Don’t tie me down.”

-Ginger, The Front Bottoms

All That I Am

I can’t get no help for this
don’t you think about
how bad I would have wanted to be missed?
but everything that I can be
was consumed by your kiss
it started with a memory,
it started with a lisp

Oh I can think of nothing better
than writing out this lonely letter
a million things I wish I would’ve said
some hatred would’ve brought some closure
now I can’t keep my composure
a million times I’ve wished that you were dead

I’m a bad, bad, bad, bad man.
and now that’s all that I am.

I can’t speak about that one time
that time you took your clothes off
but you left me caught in mine
I should’ve wanted things to be perfect
but I was okay with them being fine
she said it ended with a catchy chorus
no, it ended with a haunting line

and I can dream of nothing brighter
than holding up these notes to fire
a million things I wish I could forget
but I can’t forget what has become me
all those words were taken from me
a million things I wish hadn’t happened yet.

I’m a sad, sad, sad, sad man.
and now that you’re gone, that’s all that I am.