I Don’t Believe in Modern Love

Previously, on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

Plagued by another dream: I’m in a tall building with people I don’t know and they ask me to try out the new elevators. The first floor is an enormous, empty warehouse. The building overlaps the edge of a cliff that falls into an ocean.

There are no walls in this building, just windows, and the ceiling has to be fifty feet above me, which sparks curiosity as to where the elevators go. I walk on the cold concrete floors and look outside down the road, where I see three tanks trying their best to shoot down planes that move like flies. We’re at War! I think and panic to myself.

No one else seems disturbed. I calm down and walk over to the hall of elevators. This is the only area without glass walls. I push the button a door opens to my right. Inside is a man lying on a hospital bed, staring at me, trying desperately to hold on to his last few breaths, as well as more windows to the war out front. I step inside and push the only button. One of the planes being shot at swings over and picks the elevator up. The man in the hospital bed acts as if nothing is going on, while I scream and run around the confined room I’m in.

The plane swerves in the sky and I get dropped out from the bottom, onto the roof. I stand and peek over the edge. The elevator has returned to the ground floor. There is no way out except a fireman’s pole that sticks up in the center. I hold tightly and make my way back down. When I reached the ground safely, I want to go again, so I approach a different elevator and push the button. No one is inside this one, but there is a small bumper car with Nascar seatbelts in it. I get in and eagerly strap myself up. I wonder how I am supposed to push the button from here, but then the plane comes by and scoops me up regardless.

In the air I fly and feel much safer being strapped down. I drop out of the elevator onto the roof, but something goes wrong. I hit the roof in the car and bounce right off the edge and over the cliff. I hang on for dear life while the car plunges its way into the ocean with me strapped to it. Only a few seconds left of life and the only thoughts running through my head are what should I think about in my last few moments? I fall fast and hard, bracing myself for impact when-

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Hearts are Cheap These Days

Previously on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

I passed out in the chair, using up the rest of my Scotch, and was awakened by a better feeling Britney bursting through the front door unloading an enormous amount of books on the counter. “Jesus, you actually gonna read all that?” I asked.

“Not all at once. I’ve got to finish it before the end of the semester, though.” She said, breathing heavily. God, I loved it when women did that: their chest inflating and deflating like crazy. “What?” She asked, noticing my eye line.

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I Like All Their Pretty Songs

Previously, on A Young American…

Over the next few days I felt bland and bored with my life. Maybe I needed a vacation, or a change of scenery permanently. It’s not like I had any family anyway, and Britney would eventually realize she could do better. As much as I loved sitting around and watching the world go by, I didn’t wanna watch it from the middle of nowhere. I wanted to be somewhere where shit actually happened, but I didn’t want to actually be somebody, and I was in a rare position where I could do both. Green Acres filled the background while Britney messed around on the computer.

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In Remembrance

David Bowie died today. I didn’t love him. He was not a huge influence on my life, but he was someone who was majorly involved with people I used to be close with. Feelings are stirring up inside me, and I don’t know where they’re coming from. My ex was obsessed with David Bowie. The only friend I’ve ever lost was also an enormous Bowie fan. I’m listening to him now, and I honestly couldn’t say why.

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Don’t Want to Wake Up with No One Beside Me

Greetings, followers! Welcome, newcomers. I realize that 2015 was a slow year for me in terms of blogging, however I intend to make up for that this year to you all. I will once again begin posting at least one new blog entry per week on here. Beginning tonight, I will be serializing the adventures of Logan Richardson, a troubled youth whose strong ideals and deep pockets allow for him to do what only few dream of doing; whatever he wants. This character drifts through life oblivious to its pitfalls. These weekly adventures I invite you to partake in are ones that are about the one thing that Logan can not control, and that is his own will. I’ll tell you right now you will not find a hero’s journey in these entries. You’ll see a plotless series of misadventures that lead to show that life is not a story, and that people change, but not that much. If you enjoy Bukowski, you will enjoy this series, and Vice Versa. Without further ado, I give you A Young American.

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