American Boy

Home.

You fall back into the rat race. Or do you? Things seem continually changing. Every time I visit it's different, or so it seems. For better or worse, this is where I rest my head at night. If I could change it, I wouldn't. These places and people, situations and circumstances have made me the man I am today.

Love.

It's a tricky thing. I don't like to speak openly about it. I don't know if many do. It's pretty funny--most people will run the table with talks about crushes or infatuation, but no one likes to talk about the intricacies of love. Or heartbreak. Save it for a mixed drink or a therapist I guess. Until then write cryptic phrases and avoid eye contact.

The Usual Suspects.

Who are we anymore? Divided we fall...didn't anyone ever hear of that? When the numbers are small, I bet we'll all wish we had this time back. I'm trying to do right and grasp to these straws that continue to fall from my hands. It only works if the inboxes are full from both sides. Maybe you have to cut and run. I hate to think that.

My Type.

Certainly not, but I really enjoy it. Maybe it's a change of pace, a breath of fresh air and all that. Whatever it is, it's definitely welcomed. Marks the first weeks I've had time to myself and haven't consumed myself with thought and memory. Welcome, stay as long as you want.

Playoffs.

Dear God, I hope the Vikings can pull this off. I haven't enjoyed football in January in so damn long.

Writing.

I've got so many little snippets that show charisma and vibrant flare, but I have a hard time finishing them. Maybe because I'm not pressed for a deadline, or I get excited about another budding idea too fast. Who knows, but maybe we'll see these new ideas get developed in the near future.

Can we get away this weekend? Take me somewhere new. I want to see your hometown, show me something true.