The Memories That Choose You

The Memories That Choose You

Corey Bleier

5\30\2015

I was thinking recently about the playground around the corner from where I grew up. One of the earliest memories of my life is of the current version of the playground being built. I was playing with the neighborhood kids around dusk in the empty construction site. With only half of the whimsical architecture installed, and the knowledge that we weren’t supposed to be there, it felt dangerous and exciting. Stir in the experience of making your first friends (albeit shitty and short-term ones), and it makes for a heady brew.

Through out my childhood and into adolescence the playground was one of the few constants. From t-ball games spent in the outfield pulling up grass, to sledding down it’s hills forming a giant square bowl, to games of burn ball at recess in middle school, to loitering around as a teenager figuring out ways to get into trouble without getting in trouble. It was such a huge embodiment of my time spent trying to grow up.

But returning to the playground now it seems like a foreign image. Like seeing your favorite book made into a movie. All the characters seem familiar, but not at all what you had in your head. And what bothers me the most is after twelve years spent inside that wood chip border, I can only think of a handful of actual specific memories. I’m mostly just left with a vague sense that this place is important for some reason.

I’m fairly sure that during the moments spent that hallowed ground I was certain they were going to become the memories that would comfort me in the grave. And really that’s been the pattern for most of the formative times of my life. What my memory has really become is a slide show of my greatest hits. Except the choices for the greatest hits was compiled by a stranger that didn’t seem to know me that well.

I can barely remember my first kiss, or the day my dog died. But I can remember so vividly that I get goosebumps, the first time I heard Baz Luhrmann’s “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen). I remember what time it was (about midnight), what radio station it played on (90.5 Rochester’s only alternative), the visceral sense of awe and importance of the moment. Like it was being played purely for my benefit. It’s been a long time since I experienced anything like that.

I guess what I’m really trying to get at is memories are weird. You can never really tell which moments of your life will stick with you. Which moments will come to shape your future form. As much as we tend to worry about what this moment or that moment means, and which mental photos we try to hang on to the hardest, sometimes it’s just not up to us to choose.

Roses and Violets: The Untold Tale

Roses and Violets: The Untold Tale

 

If roses are, sometimes, red,

And violets are, rarely, blue,

Then what does that say about you?

After so many years hunting

for that personal fairy tale,

I’d all but given up on catching my white whale.

As Ahab went mad combing the angry seas,

So did I grow angry exploring this mad world.

 

Too many battles lost and too few won.

Lost opportunities and wrong dreams chased.

We look for what we’re taught to,

But I’ve had poor teachers.

 

So I stopped looking for the fear of never finding.

Days became the next

With repetition, jokes and numbing distractions.

It’s a funny thing how a little psychic novocaine

Can comfort the mental pains,

But keep you from any real joys.

 

And that’s when I saw you.

Eye’s that went into and through me.

A smile that weaken and disarmed me.

The wild mane of hair like smoldering fire.

I couldn’t keep away, even if I’d tried,

The moths in my belly drawn to your flame.

 

The apathy I’d grown to love

Melted off and left me raw,

Without armor.

Feeling lighter and heavier at the same time.

I was scared, and exited.

Nervous and confident.

Happy but waiting for the other foot to drop.

 

Time will tell if I’m better off without my beloved armor.

I can all but guarantee the eventual hurt,

But you can’t have a moment of real joy

Without the risk of losing it.

Even if the house always wins

We still come back for another hand. 

I Saw a Girl

I saw a girl last week.
She wore a black pea coat
And a blue hat with cat ears.

I saw her walking down the street,
Dancing to the muffled beats

of a hidden i-pod,
And I stopped.

Each flash of her face,
With search lamp eyes

That scan the scene for signs of life,
Stunts my brain.

As if by a spell,

I feel myself changing.

Confused and small,

I’ve gone back in time.

Wondering the streets again at four-teen,

My bills and house and life all seem,

For lack of a better term, a dream.

And when the church bells chimed,

And my head began to clear,
She disappeared.
With a cloud light that smelled,
Just a little bit,
Like peach schnapps and body spray.

I’d never Noticed When I grew up

When did this happen?
I can’t seem to remember.
Some one once told me,
“The more you know the less you believe”
But I’ve learned too much to tell.

One minute we’re screaming our destinies into the void,
Then the next we’re running back to the safety
Of the chains of the world.

What happened to our passion?
What happened to our faith?
How long has it been
That we schedule adventures on the calendar?

Sometimes, when I speak to the 12 year old me,
In the magical hours between dreams and life,
I get the feeling that he’s mad at me.
That’s when the guilt seeps in,
And I hope he’ll understand,
That it wasn’t supposed to be this way.

You Remember That One Time?

Do you remember that time,
When you went to Six Flags with a hangover,
And you told me to pace myself?

Or the time under the stars,
In that cookie cutter back yard.
And as Papa sat inside
Forgetting how to stay alive,
We sat outside,
And you forced me to always remember.

And then there was the time,
That you slipped that book in my bag,
The one I wasn’t supposed to have.
The one Mom and Dad said was too old for me.
I can’t believe you don’t remember.

Well you must remember the time,
We got so hungry we ate three packs of ramen
Before we ever cooked them.
You really don’t remember?

I guess that’s ok.
I remember pretty well,
And I guess I could tell you the story again.

Sweet Dreams

Oh how we slept,
For days on end,
Through life and school.
And I’d dream of leaving
But never could.
And you told me that you dreamed of flying,
But I seem to remember a fear of heights.

I’d grown to love that look,
That look you never knew you had,
In your deepest slumbers,
On the verge of waking.
Dreaming, and looking, and Seeing.

And as your gaze passes right through me
I wonder what you’ve found.
Because you always did find,
what I never could.
And you always did see,
What I never would.

What Goes On Inside Parked Cars

We leaned closer,
As you tried to pry your Christmas gift out of me.
And my hands moved up your arm
As your eyes began to close.

I’d whisper in her ear,
“‘Surprise’ means I’m not telling you.”
And I’d feel her speaking,
“But I really think you want tooo…”,
(Not at all unconvincingly).

Her breath seems loud
And her heartbeat louder.
The electric fuzz Stands at attention on her arms
As our lips grazed.

And hands wandered,
We forgot where we were.
Forgot all the shoppers
searching the parking lot,
looking in vain for their misplaced cars.
Enclosed in our private palace,
With automatic locks and hand crank windows.

The seconds spawned minutes…
God knows how many.
When we finally stopped
For rest and air,
As we gazed into each others faces,
lost in our rapture,
I could’nt help but say,
“I thought cars only fogged up in movies.”

My First Dance

There’s something about that first time.
Any first time.
Your first real party,
The first time you drive without Mom in the passenger seat,
First love.

We threw our whole being into each other.
Every moment stolen,
And every conversation sacred.
And the fights,
Epic.

I met you at the gym doors that night and knew nothing.
I never knew how little I would see my friends after this,
Losing some, inevitably, from neglect.
Never knew that we were both using each other
Just to feel involved.
Or how alone you would make me feel.
Never knew because we believed.
Believed in everything.
Believed in god and believed magic.

I don’t remember much about that room
on that particular night.
But now and then
When I catch that plastic smell of a balloon,
Or hear some high school girl laughing in line at the gas station,
I remember Her.
I remember Her and I smile.
And I forget all of the crazy.
I hope that She still thinks about me
When sees a boy scout selling popcorn,
Or when a cat walks by and Her allergies flare up.
I hope She knows that a part of Her
Will always live with me.
But mostly I hope we never get back together.

A Friend of the Devil is a Friend of Mine

Why do I do this to myself?  I was having a wonderful day yesterday.  And now I just want to run and hide.  Why do I always have to fuck myself?  Maybe I just don’t try hard enough.  I mean I think I try; or at least I tell myself I try.  What’s the difference really?  If you tell yourself something long enough you start believing it.  and if you believe a lie as though it’s truth then what really is the difference between truth and a lie?

We’re all scared of change.  We either want change or we don’t want it.  No matter which one it is it scares us.  I want to live my life but I’m paralyzed by the thought of failure.  Maybe that’s a learned behavior.  Maybe it’s not everyone that fears the unknown.  And maybe everyone really does, but some of them have balls enough to go on with it anyway.

Well anyway I guess What I’m really scared of is finding out that I’m not really one of those people with balls enough to get on with it.  That maybe I really am destined to live my life in my own proverbial Savannah.

In the Land of Women

My life revolves around women.  The women who had a hand in raising me, the women I had a hand in raising, the women I’ve loved, and the women I just met.  The women I’ve saved and (most importantly) the women who saved me.  What can I say about these lovely ladies in my life?  They’ve made me who I am.

The past few weeks since I’ve moved in have been good for thinking, and the loudest thought that disturbed the peace of my mind was a powerful parade of all these mythic figures.

I’ve been wrestling with this post for a couple days now.  Trying to figure out how best to do justice to these lovely ladies.  And it came to me this morning in the shower.  Write them all a love letter.  Now, I’ve changed names to protect their privacy, though no doubt they will know who I’m talking about if they ever read this.

First off I was to express my pride and boundless respect and love for Cat.  I love you dearly, Kiddo, and you bring me hope for our cynical, close minded family (not to mention the future of this temporary world we live in).  Your writing puts me to shame and your photography can only be described as the envy of any great artist.  You’ve already accomplished more in your short fourteen years than I can have hoped to in my even shorter Twenty.  I feel like I’ve been neglecting my mentor duties as my life spun briefly out of my control and I went on a bender of self pity and spiritual and intellectual paralysis.  And despite my no longer being near you I want you to know I’m here again and I will never leave your side (metaphorically speaking).  You’ve always been like a sister to me and I thank the heavens that I’ve been able to share at least a little piece of my life with you.  Always remember, everything in this world will eventually come full circle and I have no doubts that you will go on in your life to change the world.  I love you more than you can know, Kiddo.  Keep on keepin’ on.

Amanda, oh, Amanda.  What can I say about you.  You brought me back to life.  You broke my heart and systematically rebuilt it stronger than before.  It’s almost been a year since I met you and you’ve been such an integral part of my life since that first day.  I understand why we can’t be together and maybe we never were meant to be.  I doubt there has ever been a feeling I’ve had without you knowing about it before I even felt it.  So I’m sure this goes without saying, but you never can tell.  I will never stop loving you my Queen of Swords.  You keep my neurosis in  check.

Alice,  you have been one of  my closest friends for more than five years now.  I’ve seen you at your worst and your best.  I’ve loved you dearly from the beginning.  I know you’re not stupid and so you must know how much I love you (though I doubt you know the full extent).  You’ve always been able to understand what I wanted to say even when I had know idea.  You kept me sane in high school and showed me what life can be inside your magical rabbit hole.  As of late I worry you may be succumbing to pessimism and self doubt.  It hurts to think this could be true.  I beg you always remember who you are.  I don’t think the world at large could recover if you forgot.  And really,  I just don’t think I’m prepared for those consequences.  I know for a fact that I would not be who I am today without having had you in my life and I feel blessed for it everyday.

And Mom (what use is there in changing such a name), You’ve perhaps inspired me more than any other.  You’ve been my mom and my dad since the day I was born.  I think my love and respect for women stemmed from you.  You demonstrated strength and intelligence, compassion and selflessness.  Showed me the value of pretending and supported whichever demented phase caught my fancy that week.  You never let me forget my potential and never scoffed at my bizarre hippie ideals (and even adding a few of your own to the mix along the way).  You’ve had it rough in your life and always did your best to make sure I had it better.  The biggest lesson you’ve taught me in life has been to play the hand your dealt with as much humor, determination and kindness you can possess.  Sometimes you just get dealt a shitty hand, but there are no mulligans in life.  Mom, I love you and I’m sorry for disappointing you so much in life and for all the times I will continue to disappoint you in my future (as I’m sure you know, this will be unavoidable).

Now finally to all the women I have yet to meet, I’ll probably love you too.  Give me a shout if You’re looking for a good time and a little self proclaimed enlightenment. Hahaha!