more medium format from years ago
(by Mike Lerner)
I would kill to be your clothes
Cling to your body and hang from your bones
But I could make a mark If you would let me start
I have an advice blog! Turning over new leaves and starting new isn’t easy. I’m probably going through what you’re going through, so drop me a line for some advice. Always willing to answer anything!
I wake up between 6 and 8am. I don’t do anything but lay in bed and listen. People arguing with each other while smoking cigarettes, the rhythmic beating of a sledgehammer, the arrival of the bus that stops on my corner, and the quiet breathes my dog takes as she sleeps under the blanket, in between my legs. This is my favorite time. I’d like to share it with someone.
The Starting Line- Are you Alone
Restorations- Separate Songs
Drive by NYC @ night.
(by Mike Lerner)
I remember she wore a red flannel and had her hair in a pony tail. It took her a while to convince her to come to this place with me. The stairs were narrow and the building was old and the railing was barely hanging onto the wall. We filled out all the necessary paper work and were told to wait in the next room.
"Make sure to always keep the barrel pointed downrange and don’t point it at anything you don’t intend to destroy."
She knew I always wanted a gun in the house, but it was something that made her uncomfortable. When she was younger she witnessed the aftermath of a suicide by a gun and that memory stuck with her. I remember I felt like an asshole for feeling as if she may have embellished the story a bit to strengthen her point about not wanting a gun in the house. We talked about it for a while, a couple times here and there over the course of the week. It was a couple weeks after we moved into a new place in a new city and I’m sure the last thing on her mind was having something that terrified her lay 20 ft away.
For whatever reason, she agreed to come to the range with me and learn about the thing she feared. I picked out a little .22 Ruger. Barely any kickback and relatively quiet was the weapon I picked for her. We sat in a class and listened to some guy talk about gun safety, which was a waste of time because I could’ve done better. After the class she got her ammo, about 40 rounds of .22 in a little ziplock bag. I got a Glock with a box of 9mm.
We set up in a lane and I showed her how to load the magazine and chamber the first round. It looked as if it came naturally to her and I stood in amazement as I knew it was her first time ever handling a firearm. She racked the small slide and I told her to squeeze the trigger, not to pull it, and after she fired her first shot her trigger finger laid flat against the trigger guard, like I taught her, and she turned to me and smiled. She enjoyed it.
That was the first time in my life I felt real love. To have someone fear something yet completely trust you to help them overcome it, was something I never felt before. I was proud of my bride to be and she wasn’t scared any more, and she would want to go again. Sadly, we didn’t. Life is fucked up and you will make mistakes and you will break up and you will fail. But, I hang onto that feeling of love and trust and can’t wait for it to find me again.
I was on a date, a date I later regretted, but this girl asked if I could remember how true love felt. So, I told her this story and at the end she said “Wow, you fucked up.” I told her “I know,” paid for my drink and got the fuck out of there.