Feel The Burn

Nixon: "I like my women like I like my filét miñón . . . well done!"

Verona: "So you like your women dry?"

Nixon: "That's not really where I was going with it . . . "

Recon: "And chewy, don't forget chewy."

Nixon: "This conversation just got disrespectful . . . "

Verona: "You started it, we finished it."

Recon: "Feel the burn, Honey Badger."

Nixon: "Indeed."

Operation Eradication

Standing in the middle of some God-forsaken jungle with the remnants of my platoon - William, Manny and Bernstein - tracking the creature that has systematically and mercilessly eradicated our team, regrouping after its most recent attack and realizing the handwritten note I keep in my right vest pocket from my four year-old daughter Anaya (whom I have yet to meet in person) is gone.

"Daddy, I miss you a lot. One of the best things that has happened to me is you. Please don't die, Daddy. I love you. I always will."

I keep it together for the sake of my teammates but on the inside I struggle with the most profound sadness that I have ever felt. Take everything I have but please, let me keep that letter. It is all I have of her . . .

"Alright gentlemen," whispers William, our squad leader. "Let's find and kill this fucking thing so we can all go home. Ooo-rah?"

"Ooo-rah," we all echo.

We begin planning our follow-up offensive. I propose setting off an incendiary charge in a nearby field to draw the creatures attention, thereby setting the stage for an ambush. I volunteer to rig the explosive myself while the others dig in and establish a classic L-shaped ambush formation. The charge is set without incident and I take my defensive position just in time to watch everything go to hell, starting with Bernstein being skinned alive.

"It's just . . . I'm so fucking sorry, that's all."

In my mind the moment is perfect.

Jealous Again

You just don't get it, do you? Hardcore as a lifestyle was never meant to be sustainable. We live fast and die young. The punk-rock rulebook will get you through your teens and early twenties - if indeed you live that long - but there is no Act II. If you aren't dead by your mid-twenties than it's safe to say that you missed the boat and are on your own.

What comes after? I wish I knew.

Paola

The truth is I am writing this just to keep you close. Before long there will be thousands of miles between us . . . and you won't know until I'm not here.

I am only ever bad timing when it comes to the people that I love.

The Envy Of Every Ghost (EOW 11-01-2013)

We both know you took the bullet that was meant for me, took that bullet so I wouldn't have to at the expense of your own salvation, to ensure that I would get to see my family again at the end of that day's shift. The weight of your sacrifice and the guilt of my failure will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Forgive me Gerardo, I am so fucking sorry for being alive.