Nick Krut

you know…

i’ve written about your eyes.  i’ve written about your kisses.  i’ve never wrote or maybe communicated about your love.

when i feel it — disarmingly rare as it might be — it’s overwhelming.  i know that i’m a demanding lover, i know that you’re a demanding lover but somehow we communicate and understand.

“i’m no good at comforting”

i’ve never felt so

comforted

before.

i think the problem and the solution is that we are so nonchalant about us.  everyone knows that we’re in love but it can be shrugged off as though we’ve never spoken.  i’m glad we’ve spoken, your words often complement my thoughts in the most wondeful of ways.  let’s continue to love, let’s continue to shrug one another off.

if i’ve ever had a better friend i’m glad i lost whoever it might’ve been because i’m sure no one has ever understood me like this.

it’s been a week since they had spoke.

he couldn’t decide if it was the laughter, the cutting or the crying that threw her off but it must’ve been one of them.  he picked at his arm trying to figure out where this scratch had even come from.  taking the pieces of skin off of his arm, and throwing them in the trash carefully making sure not to get them on the floor.

irritated.  irritated.  irritated.  irritated.

he looked out the window while it rained and thought about being soaked and smelly in that park.  he thought about being in that courtyard drunk barely communicating about things that didn’t matter.  he thought about being in that cold room writhing knowing that the only thing that could cure this sickness was her.  he giggled and thought, “i don’t need no doctor, cause i know what’s eating me.  i been too long away from my baby, i’m coming down with the misery.”  it was more of a cackle at this point.

he looked back up and paged through the notes that she had sent him on that long trip.  each one labeled with a day number, somehow not one day lacked a note.  he opened up the notebook and saw his scribbling from when she had been out of town, those notes that he never had the courage to give to her, those notes that expressed what he meant rather than expressing what he thought he should mean.  these notes weren’t as consecutive.  one, five, twelve, fourteen, twenty-one.  why did he only write on the days he missed her?  why did he only write on the days he didn’t cry because he was missing her so badly?  why did he…

the notes started to make sense.  you see, she wrote every day but it was out of love not desperation.  his notes were out of desperation but echoed love. he realized at that moment while looking at her smile and thinking about the last time he’d locked eyes with her and smiled.  that was it, it wasn’t that his actions threw her off, it wasn’t the lack of his actions either, it was her own actions which moved her.  he felt better.  but only a little bit.  as the happiness passed over his face, so did her hair.  he grabbed her side, turned around in the bed and held onto her loosely.

he had, once again, forgotten.  not all that i do is the cause of what you do.  not all of my mistakes cause you harm.

I wrote on my calendar Last week.  i blocked Out the entire week of april 3rd-10th, 2009.

we rescheduled.

from may 10th-20th i was Very busy working with a new client on a project.  we decided that june would be a better month.  june wasn’t a good month for a meeting.  i was out of town and you, well you were broken into pieces from that last date you had which i knew all the details about.

Every time though, we ended up figuring out a new time, tomorrow becoming Yesterday and today becoming tomorrow.  ah, then i was out of town for a very long time.  i had gone somewhere to do something to help something with someone for some( )reason.

One morning we met up.  coffee and scones if i remember correctly, not the best scones.  you complained about your cell phone but awarded it the “most times run over be a vehicle” prize.  i got some delicious foodstuffs and we went on our way, who knew that would put us where this is, certainly not me.  i’m not complaining.

as Usual i ended up complicating your life with simplicity.  i added onto your speed bumps, pushed you to write that guy in california and even opened up that door in the basement that we were both pretty sure contained poison — it didn’t.

let’s open more doors together but let’s be less careful

“i long to hold you in my arms and sway — kiss and ride on the c.t.a.”

These past couple months have been… different.  I’ve been loved and loved and it’s been wonderful.  Right now is a time for change though.  With many of the loved ones gone or leaving I find myself panicking and probably annoying most everyone who loves me — I’m sorry guys.  It really is amazing how much everyone gaining can make me lose, but my loss is worth the value that others are gaining.

I’ve met so many new people who I’ve fallen in love with and realized how many losses I’ve had by losing some of the people I’ve shrugged off.  I’ve been reminded of old passions and of things I haven’t pursued but I’ve also been reminded of my many successes and how proud I am of myself.  I left High School with a passion and no real plan and I’ve ended up here with a good job, a supportive friend group and so much potential and opportunities.  I really couldn’t have done it though without these small and big loves.

Every day is one day closer to me moving there and you moving elsewhere.  Every day is one day closer to me being a true individual with very few in-state family ties.  Every day is one day closer to change and while I like to stir my coffee a lot I’ve found change can be quite the adversary.  I love you, and you, and you.  And you all love me.  No matter where we are, no matter what we do, we’ll always at least have the love.  I’m going to have to meet at least ten awesome people to replace the two I’m losing.

You’ve made me smile and reminded me of the realities of love.  You’ve held my hand and you’ve believed in me when I’ve most needed it.  And I’ve given you the same.  The reality of the battle is that if all of the soldiers put down their guns everyone could just be happy.  Love isn’t a feeding frenzy, love is a construction project without a blueprint.  Sometimes we have to go back and re-lay the foundation.  I guess once the building is built it’s hard to not to make alterations.  I guess once the building is built it’s tempting to crush it, to break it down.  It’s like sand castles when you’re a kid.

Regardless.  The past couple months have been different and wonderful.  I’m okay with keeping this flashlight hat on and walking through the dark with you, and you, and you.

Climbing up those trees in his grandpa’s backyard in the summer was always Mike’s favorite part of those years, Lisa was his second favorite part.  He remembered this even though he had been only five and seven when they played with rollie-pollies in the street acting like they were in charge of some great, miniature society.  Coming up with laws, coming up with stories for each grouping.  He also remembered climbing that very large tree for the first time on that gloomy, windy day.  He’d reached the top and could feel the wind touching every pore on his face, reaching in his pockets and pulling out all the pain and anger and filling them with just a little bit of moisture and fresh air.

Back to Lisa though, there was something in the way she looked at everything.  It wasn’t a stare, it was more delicate than that even though she’d been touting herself as being so callous for so long.  Ah, and she was so clever.  She knew just the words to say not only to get what she wanted but also to get what she “didn’t want” so she could pout.  She was an angel in tinfoil with dotted lines going down the side so you knew just where not to tear.  And Mike knew where to but usually he didn’t, he loved her too well.  Sometimes he would lose his head in the heat of the moment or the lack of heat in it and then the walls would come down over a fifteen minute period of time everything would break.

Lisa and Mike ended up falling quite in love a little after they had both been to college.  “This has been the best learning experience in love since I took that class on British Romance Novels” said Mike, being the bookie that he was.  More than anything it was just two slightly bruised people who were reintroduced at the perfect moment, it’s like throwing in that one high note right at the crescendo, right at the beginning of the song.  They knew it wasn’t perfect but hell, what in life is?

They went back to Mike’s Grandpa’s house in Montana for a visit with Mike’s father who was withering away in that house.  Hank hadn’t moved a single picture from the walls since grandpa died and also hadn’t moved the ones that were put up with his late wife, Mary.  Mary’s pictures were fairly obvious because of the lack of sun damage to the frames.

The tree had been cut down recently, apparently a landscape architect was driving by one day and informed Hank that the tree would fall on the house within a year or two so he should have it removed as soon as possible.  Mike always thought that guy was just trying to make a few bucks off of an old couple.

The first night they were eating dinner and Hank had a massive stroke and passed away.  Mike didn’t shed a tear and Lisa was convinced for several months that he was completely heartless.  She would ask questions of him such as, “If I died, would you be hurt?  Would you be sad?  How would anyone know?”  The truth was, however, that Mike was sad and he was hurt even if no one knew.  Mike and Lisa ended up spending less and less time together, and Mike moved into his grandpa’s house and put up a few new pictures, wondered about the living room and dining room and muttered to himself.

He walked along the beachfront with a cigar.

Nothing unique, nothing special, a twenty something enjoying his youth.  a twenty something stepping on pieces of eroded rock and glass.  this was usual.  there was something that stuck out though, as he walked along the beach he looked down and found a full starfish.  it was still alive even though it was nearing death.

The starfish moved it’s bottom left (he guessed) leg and then stopped.  So, shruggingly he picked it up, threw it in his pocket and kept on walking — carrying the cigar, carrying the life.  He hated it when things made sense.

He walked in the front door, took off his shoes and smiled at himself in that mirror which she for some reason placed right in front of the goddamned door.  It always alarmed him and he thought it was an intruder with a knife (or groceries — whichever he was carrying that night).  Mostly he laughed at himself because he had left the light on in the bathroom, the only remaining incandescent bulb in the house.  He felt like an energy hog, imagining himself as an old furnace in the basement of some worn out old lady’s house huffing natural gas like his Dad drank whiskey.  He looked funny as a furnace.

She was sleeping on the couch again, probably worn out from the day.  He tried to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom but every time he tried she said, “I can walk myself” and proceeded to fall asleep, lightly snoring into the pillow which he thought was pretty damn cute.  After about 8 attempts he pulled out the cot, brought out a sheet and slept next to her.  While he was used to sleeping alone he also knew that when she woke up she would see him sleeping there and rough up the hair on the back of his head like she did and smile and that smile would be enough that he could sleep on rocks.  He thought about this — was he living to make her happy?  No.  He was living to make himself happy, I mean Jesus, he smoked a cigar which tasted amazing but tomorrow would be hell.  He’d sleep on rocks to see anyone he loved happy, he’d sleep on rocks to prove a point.  You can give away your belongings, give away your money, give away your feelings but it only means something if you’re willing to sacrifice your own well-being for just a moment.

Shit.  If he wakes up in the morning and his breath tastes like this shit though…  Ugh, he’ll vomit.  He went to the bathroom, gargled some salt water and brushed his teeth.  The floride was a blessing.  While in the bathroom he thought of the starfish.  He unbuttoned his pants pocket and pulled it out, the carcass was still soft and mooshy like a snickers bar that had been in the back seat of the car for a summer day.  Part of him wanted to eat it, but he didn’t.  He placed it on the couter while he was brushing and it’s top left leg (he guessed) moved — he felt like the biggest douche that had ever lived, it wasn’t dead, it wasn’t dying, it was probably just basking and he picked it up during it’s nap, shoved it into a dark clothy hearse and the buried it on his soft offwhite counter.

Then we went out onto the balcony, had a cry and came back inside.

i broke a candle, i broke my leg, i tried to tell the truth.

i know that i’m broken but i don’t know the cure.

i wrote a book, i wrote a poem, to try to tell the truth.

i hurt my love, i hurt myself, i hurt the dreams i had.

i know that i broke your wings and i tried to make it right.

but every time i look into your eyes my legs go completely numb.

my heart is not a thing of which i would ever brag

but when you smile my life takes flight, but when you smile i die.

Read about Trouts, Salmons and Cohos before you get worried: http://tinyurl.com/5g8ty3 | http://tinyurl.com/d7she9

8:18:28 PM EminentCoho: If you had to find a magnifying glass as quickly as possible, where would you look?
8:18:54 PM Nick Krut: My own finger’s pores.
8:21:09 PM EminentCoho: I created you.
8:21:16 PM Nick Krut: I’ve heard that.
8:22:33 PM EminentCoho: CunningSalmon and DiagrammedTrout asked to have you disposed of tonight.
8:22:45 PM Nick Krut: Do you plan to?
8:23:19 PM EminentCoho: DictatorialCoho plans to.
8:23:28 PM Nick Krut: Why?!
8:23:56 PM EminentCoho: Because you have failed them.
8:24:28 PM Nick Krut: How do you define failure?
8:24:52 PM EminentCoho: Define what you do.
8:25:25 PM Nick Krut: If you’re going to destroy me I see no reason to give any further information.
8:26:16 PM EminentCoho: I just wanted to get to know you before the inevitable.
8:27:05 PM Nick Krut: I won’t give you that pleasure Eminent.
8:28:08 PM EminentCoho: Would getting to know you be defined as a pleasure?
8:28:18 PM Nick Krut: Absolutely.
8:28:30 PM EminentCoho: How so?
8:29:58 PM EminentCoho: Have I frightened you away, my bloody peasant?
8:31:00 PM EminentCoho: Well then, how would you prefer to die tonight?
8:31:01 PM Nick Krut: It’s time for a shower unfortunately.
8:31:14 PM Nick Krut: So I cannot give you anymore.
8:31:16 PM Nick Krut: I am sorry.
8:32:13 PM EminentCoho: Your sorrow will be forgotten with the end of your life.
8:32:21 PM EminentCoho: Tonight, that is.
8:32:59 PM EminentCoho: Again now, how would you prefer to die tonight?  Or should I get creative?
8:33:59 PM EminentCoho: I have you tracked already, so I’m heading out to your place.  Just clean up in the shower, so I don’t have to deal with a dirty body before I dispose of it.

I thought it was pretty funny.  =)