nick krut

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.  =)

hey guys.

TLDR: amandakrut.com (i think you’re a whore if you don’t give her $10) & picture

my sister is graduating from college tomorrow.  she kicks the ass of 99% of the people i know (fuck it, 100%).  in about a month she and evan (top 65%) are heading out to washington dc as my sister has a pretty neat internship with the public defender’s office (maybe it’ll turn into a neat job with the same!). anyways, point is that in all this pride i find myself realizing that i’m going to miss her a lot.  from our random conversations in the hall when we were 7 and 8-years-old to our high school conversations about the holographic universe to our recent conversations about success and love, she’s been one of the only people that through thick and thin i can depend on.  having just one person to depend on is so amazing, having one person who i know, day or night, rich or broke i can call and be happy, sad or ambivalent to is worth more than the sum of all the work i’ve done in my life and i’m left feeling undeserving of such a friend.

i got a little emotional but point of this is take a look at amandakrut.com and maybe give her $10 and even if you don’t (cause you’re a jerk and like money more than my bad ass sister) get over there, take a look at this picture that a friend of our’s drew and think about how cool she is — i think about it a lot.

without going on like a sappy idiot, i love you amanda, you make me so proud and i really don’t know where i’d be without you (i try not to think about things like that cause it’s scary).  keep up that stamina and punch all non-believers in the face — remember to keep that knife on your person.

LAPD.

I’m walking into the back yard as the boy that I know you have a crush on looks me directly in the eyes and asks me, “who the fuck are you?”  I’m almost shocked he doesn’t know so I look around and say, “who the fuck am I?  are you talking to the right person?” he looks around excited and I quickly manuver myself into a conversation with someone who looks a bit off but at least I’m avoiding him.

I cut out of the party fast.  I look up at the stairwell behind me and drop several tacks on the floor.  thinking about that Thai girl I had met there earlier, angry about how my importance was somehow lower than her’s in my friend’s eyes. boy was I pissed about that, at least i had a chance to make fun of her for possibly being a guy though.

“that’s the last time i left that guy drive me home”, i think, stumbling to my front door.  i’m gonna have to talk to him about this.  i fall hard on the asphault and think about the times past.  when she and i were apart or worse, when she and i were together.  i hit another bump.

she fed me candy.  We climbed into the bed and it was so warm.  I drank the glass of milk and lazily let the empty container fall overturned on the floor.  i woke up several times and reminded myself that i was here.

I broke through the glass wall and we both giggled, mostly because my hand started bleeding.  we picked up where we left off and neither of us stuttered.  My arms got cut as we jumped in but the alarm still hadn’t gone off so we knew this was going to be a success.  Ripping through the curtains and yelling I felt like Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark in that scene where he put his hands through all the cobwebs (but I felt even more bad ass because I was doing this with thick linen curtains).  Usually when I do scary shit like this I close my eyes but I was so excited I opened them.  for a few minutes all i could see was you — the real you.

We got it!  We stole through the back window and as my left foot left that damned windowsill I tripped and cut my leg open but this wasn’t like the others, it was gushing.  You tore off your sweater and wrapped my leg and kissed my forehead.  the way you looked at me i knew it was done out of love, not out of excitement or whim.  We got out of the ally, and I turned the other way, throwing a glass of water directly into the toaster.  you followed me and we ran in an unknown route together with excitement in our eyes.  We might have executed the same fake robbery twice a week for the past four months but we’re still not predictable.

That’s all I needed to know.

tom went over to her house.  they had decided earlier this week that an evening would be great.  in fact this thursday would be incredibly convenient for both of them.  so they sat down and worked together.  there wasn’t a lot of productivity but the working part was still there.

she sturred all of their drinks with a knife, as she always did.

it was cold outside but no one really noticed.  he rolled up his but kept looking at other’s and thinking that it was a bit lopsided.  no one helped him or pushed him to succeed so he didn’t.  it was alright though because the team triumphed at 23:47 hours and promptly at 23:59 hours it was finished.

tom went home, cut down a tree and warmed himself by the glow of it’s cinders.

it was the only thing he knew for sure existed and only because it could feel the burn of the coles as he pressed his feet against them and called out for her hands.