Hundreds of Markers Beside the Road

There were hundreds of reasons for Ben and I to be impossible. History was never kind to two boys like us, who love each other like we do. Forgetting our gender, ignoring all strange roads that led to us being on the same page, and there is still the simple impossibility of love defied. That all of our contradicting securities and insecurities, interests and disinterests, beliefs and doubts could somehow translate into this common uncommon affection that should be as impossible as walking to the moon. But, instead, I love him.

When everyone knows you, it is easy to think that no one will really ever know you. With the boy before Ben, I could only feel the limits. I found myself cordoning off parts of me, saying so much less than I wanted to say. When Ben came into my life, the doors inside me were locked. I wanted to be careful with him. Careful as one would be with a rabbitt. One fast move and I was afraid that he'd be gone.

I think our first true recognition was our mutual hesitation, our own need to be gradual. I liked him a lot, but at first I didn't think we could last. I couldn't believe in it because I was afraid to damage my faith. Every time you love someone, you put not just your faith in them, but your faith in everything to the test. I didn't think I was ready for that.
The most understandable thing in the world should be how seconds turn into minutes, minutes turn into hours, hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and weeks somehow make a year. And yet, this neat progression can still be surprising. The time we've spent seems too small to contain all the minutes and hours and days we've spent. We set down each day like a marker on the road, with the feeling of always moving forward.

It took me a while to get used to this. There were so many other people in my life. I spent all my time listening, learning the longings we all have in common. I never took the time to hear them in myself... until I heard them speaking to him. That desire for desire, that hope for hope, the possibility of everything truly possible. I had so many friends, so many nods and conversations, so many things I'd always wanted to say to someone.

Hundreds of markers beside the road. All the "I really like you's" that lead to the first "I think I love you" with every half formed argument and silly secrets. From a-little-to-the-left and advice that seems crazy. His name in my handwriting...

Those things do not matter except that they matter to us. We've given them meaning in the same way that we have given each other meaning. It took me weeks to know that we could make it forever. Most songs begin with "All I want-" and end with "Is you." - it took me a few verses, but eventually I got there.

I don't think about marriage. Just commitment. Mainly my own. I don't think forever, just revel in now - the only thing I have to offer him.

Years into days.
Days into hours.
Hours into minutes.
Minutes into moments.
Moments into possibility.

'All I want is you' is not entirely true. I want so much more, and with Ben I think I can get it. I tell him this. I tell him 'I love you', which says everything, and is entirely true.

Moments into minutes.
Minutes into hours.
Hours into days.
Days into years.
Years into possibility.

This will linger.

Why is everyone so obsessed with dreaming? And what is it about dreaming that intrigues us anyway? Is it that our dreams are wrapped with endless impossible thoughts we wouldn't dare to think in our waking lives, or just the fact that we can never know what they are or why they occur?

"Follow your dreams." The most frequently spoken inspirational phrase in existence.

Dreams take us away from the usual monotonous droning of our lives into places we know can't exist. Even if it's to a dark forest where wood nymphs are mauled by the cubs of a hungry carnivore on the prowl, dreams are a welcomed escape. Your life is boring, so instead of fixing it straight away you sleep more so that you can get that escape; get away from the world without lifting a finger or making an effort.

But dreams come to an end. All dreams end eventually.

You spend a few hours or a few years wrapped in this magical fantasy world where everything can be perfect and your loved ones will live forever. Then reality comes back to get you and you're whisked away to wake in a cold sweat on your frayed and broken bed sheets in your run-down bottom floor apartment. You're left to face it all and your escape won’t be back until the day has messed up your life and disappeared again.

You'll lose your perfect job, the perfect lover will get away, your best friend will die and then you'll bury your own children. Then if you wake up you'll realize it wasn't just a nightmare but all the time you spent with them is all you'll ever have. You could dream that they're with you; holding your hand, keeping your secrets and lighting up your life. But that lasts a night. No more than a passing moment in the endless whirl of the colors and lights of modern society. A small patch of iron on the outer surface of a loaded time bomb that will some day blow up in your face and take you back to the depths of your subconscious existence.

But if dreams are so fleeting, why is everyone so obsessed with "following their dreams"? Why are they so intent on following all of the right and wrong paths when their perfect world won’t last forever anyway? Why are our hopes and aspirations even called dreams when most dreams are so dissatisfying and so absurd that no-one with a sane mind could make left or right of them in the first place? Dreaming is a figment of the imagination and yet lives are built and destroyed on top of the cloudy peaks and dusty surfaces of the other reality of insanity and seclusion, all to the knowledge of the poor soul who risks it all.

Nothing stays perfect forever. Flowers wilt, summer fades, snow melts and age never stands still. What’s the point of dreaming if your serene escape turns into a new horrific reality?

Whatever it is, I say it’s worthless.

I say dreams are over-rated.

The Confessions, As Labeled

Number one ;; I didn't go to work today like I told you. I went to the cliffs. And perhaps jumped. Thats why you thought I left wearing something different this morning. Because I did.
Numero Dos ;; Felan didn't go to Julia's. He came with me. And jumped with me. Faithful little bastard.

Numero Kolme ;; I FUCKING CARE. Don't think I don't. I care more than anything else in the entire world. I just... I can't deal with it. It's living proof that it's got a hold on me to. I can deny it until the day it kills me... but not you. It doesn't mean anything bastard, and I won't feel guilty. I know it wasn't me. I didn't do this to you so you have no right to be mad with me. I love you, you idiot, and even if it kills me to look you in the eyes, I'll alway love you.

Numero Quatre ;; It kills me that I can't do anything for you when you get like that. Really. It does. It drives me to the point of almost losing my temper. It's unfair that someone so nice has so much shit to deal with. It's completely unfair, and I want to hunt down the responsible party. For now I'll tell myself to breath, think about the innocent and tell myself that would do nothing.
Numar De Cinci ;; For once, I just want a clear head. I'm sorry if that it to much to ask for.
Numaire Kiirdein ;; I'm sick of "confessions" because these are turning into personal and unaddressed letters. But, there you go. A few things I had to get off my chest.

A peek Into Mr. Curran's Mind.

Honestly, with Wikipedia out there, why on earth would anybody read my blog? What here can fascinate a man beyond the means of, potentially limitless, on-line, encyclopedic, knowledge? I recently re-discovered my old blog from a few years back. It seems so ridiculous now.

And now I'm, quite literally, sitting in the dark, facing a bit of the universe, and wondering why I should have to be sitting in this particular direction? Who knows? Who cares? And what is the meaning of life?

{I envision a situation involving me meeting Life face to face and asking (as if it were a naughty child), "What is the meaning of this?" Quite jokingly, of course: You can't just walk around asking very busy people very silly questions.}

So, this brings us back to the question at hand - Who of you out there read my blog? I know of a few, but my blog counter turns up ridiculous numbers of hits in the multi-thousands that can't really be accounted for. Feel free to leave a comment.

One of these days I'm going to make some friends in The City to do things with.

My life has taken a bit of a tragic turn, and I'm settling a bit. I'm really not meant to settle, I think. It's uh... well, think of the children.

WHERE HAS ALL OF THE ABSURDITY GONE? where are the reckless good times, followed by the wrecked bad ones? What can we bond over if there is nothing left in the world?
What can we bond over if we are not left in the world. We box ourselves away, and create these shells that merely serve to facilitate the mode of existence that we've most recently become comfortable with. And the walls keep coming up.
And, experiences aren't so awe-inspiring anymore because they fit into our compartmentalized minds just as our psyche(s) directs them to.
Can someone please check the foundations? Why are they so solid? When did this happen, and why wasn't I told?

I am always at unease, lately. I dread stagnation. And, now I see what a profoundly deteriorating effect it has on the attitude. I think I'm just bored.

But how can I be bored amongst all of these clever social interactions? You never know which people are completely aware of cause-effect relationships, and how they can manipulate them. And, if you are aware of their awareness, you have to calculate it perpetually to stay one step ahead. It's interaction math, and the question is: When does it get to the point where you can't evaluate the worth of a word or action in your head anymore? When do you need a pen and paper? Is it worth it to be so neurotic? Not, I think, but it's always a good idea to have something to write with, just in case. (i.e. taking notes)

And, now I have work in the morning, which is really strange to me. And, the people I feel closest to don't necessarily reciprocate. And I'm cold because it's summer but the air-conditioner won't turn off. And timing is always an issue. And I'm bored with life at the moment, and prefer to re-read a book. And, I'm too clever to be blissful, but not quite clever enough to be satisfied with these assertions .

So, is the cat in the box dead or not?
(it doesn't work like that)

Gahh.

Gahhh. Blegh. Fuck.

Yeah, there's no better way to describe how I'm feeling.

The guilt. It's killing me. I haven't lived for a minute without some form of intoxication since that night. I haven't slept in four nights, haven't eaten a bite. The only good thing thats come of this is that I lost close to 7 pounds. I've been trying to do that for months. Apparently the meager food I've been eating and occasionally been throwing up has been too much to allow for weight loss.

Or maybe its the heroin. Probably is. Or maybe an advancement in the AIDs. I can't be sure. Either way, none of it has hurt my relationship with Sol. Though, the guilt keeps piling on when I add on the charade I've been keeping up with him. I haven't told him any of this because of what happened last time. And I can't lose him now. I can't afford to lose him because he's the only constant... the only one I can rely on.

And as much as I hate to admit it... I need the sex. I need it because it's the only thing I can trhow myself into that allows me to do exactly what I want to without holding back.



Ever since that night, the pack hasn't changed. I suppose its because I'm still new or something, but I expected everyone to at least be a little upset the night after. But nothing... they still run around my house and jump on sofas and all that. I don't know.

I do know this though: I will never be half the alpha as Eli. The fact that this is eating away at me slowly is a sure sign of that. I can't even eat fuckinh animals for christ's sake because I think it's inhumane. But, the circle of life goes round and around with the instincts of the pack... I just can't keep up.

I want so bad what Eli has now. To give in to instinct and live that way. I want to stop living with the pain that I hide from everyone. I want to be that kid again. I want to run around our land with my next door neighbor and hide on the other side of the shed and sneak kisses, never telling my parents.

I want to be the older brother to Jaimie that Sloan was to me. I want to tell her "it will be alright" and not be uncertain myself. But things are so fucked up that I can't control things anymore. I want nothing more than to escape this life. I would have so many years ago if I didn't promise her... if I didn't promise Jaimie that I would always be here for her.

I just can't do this anymore. Maybe I'll just stick to the heroin and live whatever void of an existence I have left in a blur. If the heroin doesn't kill me, the AIDs will eventually.

I await that day with arms wide open.



I just won't tell anyone that. Shh. It's our little secret.

Feeling So...

'Hey, Kid'

Yeah, that's your name. Don't take offense, it's a sign of affection. But, don't read into it: It only means I like you in a friendly way, unless indicated otherwise.

This weather is really getting me down. I hate the cold.

I don't like what's happening around me. Everybody has been giving me uneasy feelings. I don't like feeling like I don't know what's going on. And, here I am sitting out of the loop.

…I don't know what's going on!

I feel caged, almost. Probably something psychosomatic. Which makes sense, I'm not really thinking lovely thoughts at present. These feelings started today, or maybe it was yesterday. I'm still capable of happiness, but it's not the pervasive kind, it's more obtrusive.

I really feel alone.

Sure, I have Jaimie in the house and at work, and Sol in my bed, Julia always a phone call away, and the pack always at my back - but I feel so alone. Nothing lines up anymore.

Whats there to talk about anyways? My failing self control? My extreme disappointments to other people? My shortcomings? "How was work?" Who cares...

Mostly feeling... I guess thats the theme.

Old Tomato

The Crack. At this point, I find most effort is in vain. The rift grows, and I slide a bit more in both directions. The duality is becoming more pronounced everyday, with each side vying for dominance. The pressure is mounting, and I find myself either loving or hating. I find my mind either loving or hating the love or hate, circularly, perpetually. Does anyone know why the old tomato is?

Does anyone know what the old tomato is?

Circumventing the questions that arise, for fear of unearthing far nastier queries, I find myself avoiding mirrors.

I used to be much more intelligent, and much much more articulate. But there's "something vague that we're not seeing". I am really mourning the loss. I think I'm going to have to pull something together.

And, with that, I leave you tonight. Remember, be smart. Remember, you can always change it.

I Like Writing Again... I think...

I'm going to try writing out my thoughts again, I guess like a dialogue with the universe. And, the reason I use the word dialogue is because I feel some sort of cosmic something is responding by giving me momentary bursts of inspiration. Not that I really need to explain myself to the universe; just trying a format other people will understand. And, I'm listening to music, so forgive me, because my thoughts will probably shift with every track.

Today I haven't really done much. I think maybe I'm depressed. But I'm not sure, because I think I eliminated my capacity for introspective concision. Or maybe it's that I'm afraid to examine myself under the lens. But, when I think that, it doesn't seem like that's the case at all. And, usually I'm a pretty good judge of truth or untruth when it comes to genuflecting. Maybe I've just evolved or devolved away from being too critical of myself. Generally, I find that this makes me a more happy person. Perhaps, that's why I'm depressed: because I can't really find the time to hate myself. aren't we all just people?

I find that I rationalise everything almost everything I do. Which, on the whole isn't so bad, but I have to sometimes keep it in check, lest I lose perspective and end up a sociopath, and ruin any semblance of moral aptitude I might have. It's been my motto, lately more than ever, to do what is best for me. But I've corrupted that noble desire, by doing completely selfish things. And, taking care of yourself first, I think is a virtue. But I've overdone it a bit and, I think, been overindulgent. It hurts people I care about, and mostly myself.

But it's going to be okay, I think, because I've apologised. And am now making every effort to follow through. I, more often than not, find that my initiative is lost after the first few 'yes's'. But Inertia is powerful, yes? So lets gather some momentum!

…………..'What once was mine, is now undone'…………..


What is love? Really? I defy anyone to define love. Doesn't it vary by situation, isn't it all contextual? And, doesn't everybody have a different ability? So there are three types of love, or so the book says. And, everyone wants a healthy balance. All I want, I think, is someone who wants exactly what I want. But, not in the competitive sense. I think if we strive for the same vague concept of beauty and perfection and completeness, then I love you. I might not always love you, but time is immaterial. I will always have memories of having loved you. All of the hazy memories of adrenaline and comfort and pheromones and every time I ever held you in my arms and whispered I love you. Which is, I hope, all you'll have taken of me.

That's all I really want before I die (not to change the subject, but in my mind it all flows), to look back on my life and say it was good, and that I tried to do what was within my means to make the world a better place for me and those I cared about. I want good memories, of romance and beauty, and happiness. I mean, those are just my ideals. I want many, many things. That's just my completion goal. The last thing I have to do before I can leave peacefully.

…………….'honestly, what will become of me?'……………..

Of course, I want to make my mark on the world. I want to be remembered for something. I'm not sure how I'll do it, but I can't stand to be faceless or nameless. It's a drive I realise not everyone possesses. I'm even aware that some people look with disdain upon my type.

Insanity is a state everyone must broach upon. I'm probably not qualified to make such statements, but I can't help but form opinions based upon my own personal experience. I believe temporary moments of insanity (obsession, absolute depression, recklessness, wrath, etc.) are experienced by everyone. It only becomes unhealthy when you lose your focus on your identity, and you can't swivel back into being a centered being. Something most humans can't function without. Obviously even the ones upon Nirvana's footsteps are like infants. To be close to whatever 'God' is or might be to you, is to cease to exist as a unique entity in my opinion. And, that's my little tidbit of spirituality. And, I allow them to myself: hope, and the like. Selflessness is great, but everything in moderation please. Which is why I'll never be religious.

I'm tired of writing for now, but I enjoyed this. I'll probably so it again soon.

So, after that, I feel refreshed. Letting everything out seems to be remarkably good for a soul.





I went out late last night for a run, and walked until I saw the sun rise. I can't remember the last time I did that.
And, in the short time that I was up there with the sky, I re-evaluated my life for what seems like the millionth time.

I started out, as far as I can claim responsibility for my memories in my present state, as not wanting to be anything. Not a hero, a geologist, a model, a writer, a photographer, a businessman, an artist, or anything else. Maybe just an adventurer with a passion for living.
I took a trip back into my past, which had nothing to do with time, and something more to do with acute recollection of states-of-mind. And, I guess it's time to reboot.

I don't think anyone wants to cause anyone else hardship - at least not when it doesn't affect whether or not they can function. I'm really sorry. To everyone that I ever hurt.
So, I started out not wanting to be a vain creature.

I wanted to have friends. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to live.

Stop.

That's it.

And, now, that's all I want again. I'm really selfish, I guess. But, maybe not. I want other people to be happy too.

So... my new career?

I'm a professional adventurer. I do what I want, and I'll do it as well as I should like. And, I'm looking for kindred spirits to abandon cookie-cutter society and make something of themselves and others.

I figure, if my time on earth is going to be limited by my own uncontrolled circumstance, I'm at least going to make the best of it.

The Beginning?

I suppose this is where it all starts. However, beginning is a relative term. My life is beginning to look like a bunch of endings currently. And, admittedly, I wouldn't mind so much. I would love for a lot of this shit to just end. But, I doubt that it will. My life will probably end before the endless line of crap does.

But, for a few people, I'm keeping my hopes up. I went for a run last night, crashed in the meadow and woke up to take my AZT. Fortunately, since I was already outside, I watched the sunrise. It was beautiful. Something that just completely puts things into perspective. Nothing mattered all of a sudden. I thought about waking Jaimie and Julia to come see it with me, but, Jaimie needs her sleep for baby's sake, and being alone in the silence with Julia would probably make me manic at that point. I haven't told her yet, about being HIV positive. It's advanced quick, but nothing ridiculous yet. Though, not telling Julia is probably for best, for now.

Truth is, I hit a wall with my hidden truth last night. Jaimie was at John's, and Julia was looking to loosen me up. Though we've done it before, I hadn't known about it. And now I'm not taking that chance. Not without telling her especially. Heh, it's completely selfish, but I'll miss the outlet. She keeps me sane; always has.

Yet, I'm still confused. Which is a first for me. Since I lost my virginity to her and realized that I was gay, I have never once second guessed it. Never interested in the girl in the tight skirt, or trying to see up it. But, I know since I stopped dating Julia that I never stopped loving her. We told each other that being each other's best friends was perfect. We were kindred souls, destined to always be there, perfect, for one another. That lasted for many, many years. Maybe it was too much testosterone or too many broken hearts from men, but, I feel myself infinitely more attracted to her than anyone, or any man. For years I told myself that my love for her was merely non-sexual, that I loved her more as nothing more than exactly what she was. A kindred spirit, an added sister, perhaps. But, even though I feel myself completely and irrevocably in love with her, I'm still confused.

I'm confused about all the feelings. Kaleb, who I can't find it in myself to be angry with him. I should be pissed that he gave me this disease without telling me he ever had it, but I'm not. Not a single inch of me is angry, not even a centimeter. I don't miss him, really. I miss the fun I was able to have with him. Not that it was healthy fun, but thats what was so great about it. With my parents death, I was forced to grow up at 16. Going on the road was the best, and worst decision of my life. I found out a lot.

I found a heroin addiction, and AIDs, and every other drug. I also found anorexia and self destruction... but, through all that, I found me. I found the worry free teenager, the talented lighting designer, the care free lover, and all other parts of me I had lost with my parents. I snapped into father mode, and fought to take care of Jaimie, never thinking once about how it was effecting me. I don't regret that... not one bit. I realize now how much of a difference it has made for Jaimie. She is completely normal these days. I suppose a little irresponsible, but, it happens to teenage girls all the time. Other than that and a small bought of cutting, she never had to deal with herself.

I can't be angry at Kaleb for everything I picked up on the road because I don't regret it. i don't regret going either. I miss it, as well as being with him. I was so utterly and completely carefree.

But, those days are gone.

Then there was Sol, from whom my heart is still attempting to heal from. That sounds extremely girly, but it's true. I just can't comprehend. We were perfect. Or, at least, I thought we were. I thought he was the one I could trust for everything, but, apparently I was wrong. Being in the pack with him now is just torture. I can't even look at him anymore, never mind give him orders.

But I am so incredibly excited about Julia living with us. Not only for myself, but also for Jaimie. While the added estrogen uneases me (having on more period in the house to deal with should be fun...) Though, I am extremely thankful for her presence in Jaimie's life. She'll be an angel when it comes time for the birth. And it's nice just having her around. It's a little less quiet, and I have much less alone time and free time (which, believe it or not, is a very good thing.)

Oh, Jaimie. She won't talk to me. Well, she talks, but never about whats bothering her. And I no better than to corner her - then she'll stop talking all together. It's frustrating. I just feel so guilty. First mum and dad, then Evander, eventually the baby, and now a death sentence looming over my head. It must be killing her - and I wish she would fucking talk about it. The worst part about it is, I can't talk to them. I haven't told Julia, and I can't talk to Jaimie. I can't tell Jaimie how scared I am, because she's a thousand times more afraid. It's like I've boxed myself into a lonely corner. Oh well, at least there are less people to miss me in, I don't know, 10 maybe 12 if I'm lucky years.

So much for a beginning, yeah? It's good to get it off my chest.