Waiting in the line of fire

 I am convinced that one day, people will know me - but not because I want to be known re; (you know the type, popularity contest, ego driven personalities).  What this implies will be how it is to want something they can't have.

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So here I am.

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I was 18. My friend Michael Wynn was at Scandals.

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It was the first time I walked into a night club scene. Alanis Morisette, the Canadian Sensation at the time her album 'Jagged Little Pill' was blaring over the sound system. The environment was indefinite of me. There I was.

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It was the pause that I took when entering the establishment.

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Somehow I knew I would recall that exact movement in the form of my mind.

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I was with my friend Edgar Correia at the time. (I will get back to this later. . . )

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Years would pass.

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I am 36 this month.

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I remember that time like it was yesterday, where I felt empowered then as I do now.

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You would not think the above, from the first sentence to the description of a night scene encapsulates me. It is funny how honesty works, when you want it to come across as something incredible as it was - but the truth. It was exhilarating to me. I am still that same person - which is my point.

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There are very few people that remind me of those life-long experiences.

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It came without expectation: that the people I formed bonds with somehow failed me. When I use to hang out with my boys, and pretend the world was ours. Now those same guys are not around anymore.

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Except Micheal Wynn.

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I saw him days ago at the Bomber game with his family, where the party was, and it should be. What is different about Mike, is that he never forgot what those times mean, where if I found him in any kind of harm I would be the first to help.

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Edgar (a guy I mentioned earlier) was one of those guys. Then there is Scott Webster, Valter Rodrigues, Nelson Santos, Danny Bento - things I clearly never imagined. Other guys crossed themselves off the list, or never really were on it.

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The same feelings I have then, are what my moral of this entails. I am one of those guys where feelings mattered (even if they forget.) That is the definition of loyalty.

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There are people I know from back then, that would readily double cross the betterment of my cause in this narrative. I still would feel the same way - no matter that sense of betrayal as being taken for granted.

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When I mention nameless people, they are unknown variables - the kinds that stereotyped their way through life's ambitious tales. These are all men I refer to, the women I know all broke my heart so they too are nameless.

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The real kind of institution I described herein. That mind of better men. The kind that knew me but forgot about it. I do not see those in the past that would not care to celebrate.

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I just knew that someday I would go back there, like I am here now, and reveal the truth.

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I see it. They can barely.

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Marco Almeida

June 29, 2014  · 

Shared with Public

I have been searching for answers this weekend and this is the first entry I could find that made sense to me.

The past year to year-and-a-half have been less than memorable though it does not amount any one thing in particular other than knowing the difficulties I have managed.

I saw this group of Portuguese guys at the World Famous Palomino Club last night.

I knew these guys. They pretended I wasn't there. (And it won't be the last time that happens.)

I guess I am ending all this by saying I am in search of something far greater. . .

June 29, 2013

MA

"There are simple things I want portrayed, that the main idea in this entry re; how little thinking it takes to truly co-exist in this world. Where friends that never took property of their relationships with me is fallible."

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Marco Almeida

"The real kind of institution I described herein. That mind of better men. The kind that knew me but forgot about it. I do not see those in the past that would not care to celebrate." (Marco Almeida 2013) -

Trying to find answers re; my struggle borders on totality.

This entry is strictly about how 1- feelings are a signature of a persons wherewithal 2- that this psychological footprint is embedded in time from people that either misuse, misapply, mistrust, or manipulate your core inhibitions. 3- That this sensitivity is as precious as the memory your friends have of you, but they suffer amnesia to it.

The result is what this entry is about, people cop out on your solitary imagination, where you thought that loyalty held a place in time and space, to inform you have an unbreakable type of bond to.

This is what the entry is about.

This is a hard thing to examine myself with. There are simple things I want portrayed, that the main idea in this entry re; how little thinking it takes to truly co-exist in this world. Where friends that never took property of their relationships with me is fallible. How sad it is they sell out to free enterprise.

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