One Shot Too Many: Waiting for Sleep

December 19, 1999


My cough seems to worsen every day. Sometimes I think I’m dying. It’s just allergies. Five o’ clock in the morning but my day has just begun. Tonight (last night) I bought a bottle of rum and made candles for Christmas presents. I am trying to sober up. My head still rests under my mother’s roof and with her being an early riser, I must stay within the confines of my room. In her presence I still feel like I am fourteen. The dizziness is relentless but I refuse to let the sickness get the best of me. I have taken one shot too many. Maybe I’ll watch my friend battle the computer in an intense game of solitaire.

I Will Persevere

December 19, 1999

I have been thinking about greatness. In the near future I am hoping to become more than just talk. There is a heavy load I have placed on myself but I know what I am doing, I know what I have done. At the age of twenty-two I once again have the confidence I possessed when I was nine, and the vulnerability needed to believe in the impossible. Life can seem so trivial to me at times. Some days I don’t care about the future and would rather stay in bed to watch the rise and fall of the sun but I can’t let myself get pulled in.

What Day Is It?

December 18, 1999

My writing has been horrible lately. I’ve had a lot on my mind. Nothing worth talking about, just the same old stuff I guess. It has been about three weeks since I quit my job. I’m beginning to go stir crazy but don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret quitting. My last check was for about $700 with my remaining vacation days. Not bad. I have $900 in my savings account and although I would like to keep it preserved, I know that sooner or later I will have to dip into it. School starts up in another month. Can you believe I only got $500 from financial aid? I was counting on getting a lot more.

Small Town Verses

December 11, 1999

Another train is heard in the distance howling relentlessly into the night.

People and people alike flock to the same area of residence to feed off one another and think about the latest news, but nothing comes to mind. Here, the voices sound alike where few have dared to dream about bigger and better things.

Closer to the time again. A smell in the air feeds my hunger for whatever. Breathe a bit but slowly for a familiar scent still lingers. Would you dare question what it’s for? Could you bare to question where it’s from?  12/17/99

Close Call

December 11, 1999

Somewhere beyond the crowded freeways of the city we rode into the night. I sat riding passenger staring out the side window at the swamp-like trees hanging their branches over the two-way road. My body was beginning to cramp as a miserable feeling began to sink in. Out of the darkness a white figure flew towards the car at an alarmingly fast rate. I clutched my pillow as the night creature got closer and I was able to see the wing span of this predator. He was heading right for the passenger side window but just as I sank lower into my seat, he lifted upward reversing the path of his flight. I sat still in awe smiling at my encounter with the owl.

Don’t Drink the Water

December 9, 1999

If we are masters of this growing city than shouldn’t we have it made? Inside I sit from day to night ignoring this citizenship for my breathing machine is running on empty and the air is closing in. Skyscrapers are hidden behind a thick blanket of smog that grows thicker with the start of each engine. The polls have rated us number one but what are we doing to change?

Dane Vang

December 7, 1999

A late Tuesday afternoon is spent driving into the sun. For the past two weeks daytime temperatures have stayed in the seventies with the sun beating down and a strong cool breeze that picks up leaves and swirls them about. Miniature tornadoes pick up all around me as southern birds fly by in a V. By the appearance of land and sky I can sense that there is a beach close by but a fork in the road takes me the other way. It is easy to become lost in the wide open space. This far down south can seem like a whole other country but a border was never crossed. This road is not yet a highway.

Quit Your Job

November 24, 1999

There is nothing better than the sound of laughter. Even among strangers it is nice to witness happiness.

Before you know it you’ll be walking out these doors for the last time.

This is when everything falls into place. The ending of a year marks the beginning of a century.

My wallet is still full and account saving earnings that must last until my ship decides to come in.

Three more hours.

For You

November 19, 1999

If I could find a way to disappear and starve myself till there was nothing left don’t you know I would? I feel I lost something along the way and if you find it lying on a roadside park you can have what I must have thrown away. I wonder if they get what I’ve been trying to say? I wonder if they’ll get the point I’m trying to make? We are all waiting on you to make your move but everything has to be perfect I’ve told you that before. Everything has to be perfect with nothing left to improve. If I could feel the warmth of the sun beating down upon my face exposing ten-thousand flaws I keep hidden, my capabilities would be endless. It is coming. Do they know the secrets I have been revealing? This is for all of you. What you hold in your hands was created to be exploited. There is a great freedom when you let yourself become translucent, but will they take these words to heart? There was a ten year old child who sat alone cooped up in an upstairs room experimenting with the hidden talents of a future storyteller. There was a poet born again through pain who dared to dream despite harsh realities. Unhappy faces have gone grocery shopping. They’re pumping gas. They’re going to work. They’re eating fast food. They’re stopped at a red light trying to get home. I wonder if they know their own capabilities?