back in the time when i used to indulge my burgeoning OCD disorder with a sitemeter, i'd notice handfulls of hits from military IPs. like a lot of people, most of them probably got here by accident, through a wayward porn search or whatever, but once and awhile i'd notice one of those addresses hitting at the same time, day after day, and i'd think, hmmm, who is that, this new reader of mine? i'd wonder, what are they like? do they like their job? are they paying for college? are they looking to get off, don't ask don't tell style? are they scared shitless?

it was tough to get my mind past the uniform--shit, i'd think, they're sittin there reading about me fucking a drag queen decked out in their fucking GEAR, man, like some serious boots and collars and slick little sidearms.

and i'd feel honored as fuck because that's some fer real shit. while i'm here getting high and pontificating.

i grew up on the lower rung of the middle class, so there were always a lot of guys and girls going into the service. like every dude in my family did something. later on i knew guys who went to the first gulf war and to bosnia. i'll tell you, from the little they told me, a lot of fucked up shit happens that never makes the papers.

i don't know, maybe someday they could post their stories on blogs.

i think it would help some of them to get it out.

maybe help them leave it in the past...

anyway, i'm getting a little maudlin this morning.

last night we took the late train home

i was mezmorized by the pattern of pink dots across the brown pleather seats

punched from our tickets

it was funny because when the conducter came by

i was so out of it i tried to hand him the CD from my CDman

i didn't understand what he wanted

but i got a little help and figured it all out

and spent the rest of the ride watching as we floated past

intricate formations of bright lights

outlining deep black spaces

like ships waiting in the darkness.

the water was like icing when we crossed the river.

my music was too loud in my headphones

but i still couldn't hear it

i was numb, i couldn't feel it.

thoughts about the war and my life in this country

burrowed deep in my brain

like toothaches

fuck i felt outside of it all

the news...the near empty train

driting past the great sleeping city of hoboken

like a ghost


one love to the troops out doing your job.

welcome back to everyone who made it home.


yr all invited.