Life in Technicolor

Everything luminous, I embark a life in technicolor. The brilliant verdure, vibrant in the early morning sunlight. Even in darkness, the city glows, a haze of amber disguising a blanket of poison. Neon blur surrounds me, alone I navigate a city I will never fully inhabit. My heart was left behind, prisoner to another's hand. And I am left, with a dream as my only companion.

Simply Beautiful - Name that Movie

"You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die."

One of my favorites of all time.

Day The Earth Stood Still

I measured my daily success on a scale, a dismal scale of abhorrence.  On one end there were the days that were just bleak enough to provide sufficient numbing of the soul, nothing that couldn't be amply perked up with a proper drink.  The opposite end were those days that I thanked a higher power that I never carried a firearm or any other mortally wounding machinery on my person.  Those were the days that sapped me of any sense of humanity or repercussions.  My out for blood days.  That is what my life had become, to which my pride had yet to fully disclose.  

I hated myself for coming back to Detroit.  It was a decision granted by a feeble mind.  A mind under the influence of naivete and an optimism symptomatic of grave inexperience.  Nothing had improved as I had hoped, not financially nor emotionally.  My feet had been firmly encased in a cement block of a relationship and it was only a matter of time before my entire body would be thrown off the bridge into the abyss below.  The dangling carrot that had drawn me back, closer to him, had become laughable.  It had only been an excuse.  An excuse that conveniently placed the weight of blame on my shoulders.  I had righted my wrongs and yet was no further ahead.  No frothy white gown lay in my future, no ceremonial walk down any aisle.  

The day had been one where neither fiery daggers nor verbal weaponry had been discharged.  It was a bowl of melty ice cream kind of day.  All the flavors ran together in a soup that was anything but gestalt.  Simply walking took effort but for no apparent reason.  I wasn't sick, I wasn't stressed.  I just was.  

I locked myself away in my room, larger than most people's entire apartments.  It was easy to get lost inside and never exit to greet my roommate with idle pleasantries.  I dropped my bags, subconsciously hoping that somehow I could kill my laptop, symbolically murdering all effort put forth at my current agency.  Splayed out on my bed, I practiced my then daily routine of fighting off an inevitable slumber while simultaneously searching for some sort of calm.  A lazy person's version of meditation.  I was about fifteen minutes into this mental unfurling of my day when the digital scream of my phone jolted me upward.  

My pulse quickened as the caller identification revealed her name.  I had not heard a word from her since an email three weeks prior.  When the voice on the other end revealed itself as her sister's, I knew.  The ground fell out from under me.  

"Mom, I got her.  It's Jessica," I could hear the clicking of heels and the transfer of the phone.  But I was not there, I was on another planet.  

"Jessica."  It wasn't a question, but more of a statement.  My mind was a swirling mass of emotional debris.  I knew what was coming, I knew it was here, please God help me, I can't deal with this now, if I hang up will it negate anything?  "We lost her.  We lost Melissa."

And there it was.  

Red Rock

Adventure had always taken the shape of steel reaching towards sky. Conquering a place that couldn’t have been further from home. Now that voyage has concluded and here I am, fumbling through life with neither gain nor direction. Wanting for the swift Nor’easter winds to pick me up and blow me West. Someplace new. Rock replaces steel, and fear has nothing to do with success. Escaping the poison that haunts me and filling my lungs with dry, clean air. A deadly landscape sets me on fire so I can see clearly once again.

Secrets and Lies

We don’t have secrets, do we? As I sit before her, I wish to speak but am silenced for so many reasons. Why not her, I wonder as I think of all his pretty girls, lined up, transparent harlots waiting their turn. Which one will he choose to consume? Certainly not her, not tonight. For he will return as she slumbers, lying next to her, he searches for a reason to care.

Night

Mechanical stallions, shuttling Prince Charmings to save the day. Their sirens grow dim, and I’m left with my triangle of sky, moon filled with light. It is here that I’m left with my thoughts, hope. Every step further, my footing gains, unerring. And I begin to wonder if I ever did exist before this island.

City of Blinding Lights

True beauty only happens when I’m alone. In the backseat of a cab, shooting uptown, home. The lights penetrate the glass and reflect back through my eyes. The longer I stay, the view is still the same. Through the eyes of a dreamer though, everything is new again. I can forget the evils of the day, my lost love, an ideal that never came. Quietly trying to achieve something I already have. And yet I know that it will all be okay. Because I have the city and the city has me.

Dear Mr. Ogilvy,

I fear for the lost souls who flood into this industry with high hopes of fame and notoriety. Long gone are the days of yore with their two martini lunches and sweater-set girlfriends in high class hotel rooms, all accomplished in time to return home to their cookie cutter wives. Ad men used to be great, and quotable. Now they are a pack of overstuffed shirts, pounding at their chests, all too excited to whip out the proverbial measuring stick.

Everybody wants to own the next great idea, but I’m sorry to say, there are no original ideas left out there. Only new ways of communicating them. The days of witty dialogues and kinetic energy have left. We are industries, smokestacks pushing out bad ideas and clichés, and when the whistle blows, dead-eyed zombies march away only to return tomorrow.