The Loneliness of the Dark

They are
strong
and
relentless

They are
pagan
and
limitless

The layers
of the heart
they tear
asunder

The coffers
of the mind
they ravenously
plunder

They plunge
the depths
to drag out
reveries

Their work
is done
with whispers of
eulogy

by
Matthew Young

My book, Means to an Ending, can be purchased at:
Amazon or Createspace

You Linger Everywhere

You linger
in my mind
when you suddenly appear
at the most unexpected times

You linger
in the air
when I smell your scent
on an old pair of pants

You linger
in the past
when I hear words of love
whispered through stranger's lips

You linger
in the future
when I see your smile and your figure
in the form of a picture


You linger
in my heart
for no other reason
but for the fact that I love you

by Matthew Young


My Book, Means to an Ending
Amazon  Createspace  

Book Preview

  Here is the text from the first six pages of my book, Means to an Ending. If you enjoy what you read head over to Createspace, Amazon

The Happy Traveler listlessly watched as the beads of a forgone rain raced down the pane of glass he rested his head on. The small, cold window of the airplane offered no sort of comfort, but this particular airline seemed to not be in that line of business. The fact that his head was lying on a window so as to avoid being buried in the gargantuan hair of the woman next to him should be ample proof of this conglomerate’s commitment to apathy. Oh, and he certainly was ecstatic about the thought of being scrunched up to the point of severe leg cramps by the child in the seat in front of him who seemed to be destined for an attention deficit diagnosis any day now.

Not that he would complain.

Just as he was approaching the climax of a particularly good session of wallowing in his own misery, he thought he had vaguely heard some sort of human contact. Just like a human, he thought, to ruin his self-loathing right when he was really starting to enjoy it. He reluctantly turned his head and was treated to the sight of an overly made-up, excessively chipper flight attendant flashing her disgustingly white teeth right in his face. He assumed she had said something asinine and of no particular importance, and he had all intentions of using on this girl the skill he had spent most of his life honing. The one skill that he thought had kept him going as long as he had in this world. Though try as he might to ignore this human aphid, he was appalled to hear a word of inquiry slip out of his mouth in his own voice. He would have been fine if some being of satanic origin had suddenly possessed his body and used his voice for such an act, but to hear himself wonder aloud to this woman what she had said was akin to rolling around naked in used hypodermic needles.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey, I just wanted to remind you to turn your cell phone off, if you would be kind enough to do so, sir,” she said, as if there were some semblance of an option. He wished he had the option of throwing the aforementioned phone in the direction of that dumb face and watching every single one of those nuclear reactions she called teeth fall out one by one, but society unfortunately didn’t lend him that choice. Sometimes he hated society. Especially when he didn’t have his phone and he had to interact with it. And especially when he was stuck in a small tube flying through the air with a bunch of mouth-breathing nimrods who wanted to talk about their wholly uninteresting children or what hole in the earth town they were from. He looked at The Hair next to him and was fully prepared for a conversation about how her son was the star of the high school football team in Trans Fat, Alabama.

The Weight Never Changes

Those words
From a year gone by
Stood against the fire
That raged uncontrolled
And stood even stronger
When that fire died

Those words 
From a year gone by
Were born truer
Than any ancestor
Were more pure
Than any heir 

Those words 
From a year gone by
Still mean the same
One year later
Now unspoken
They weigh the same

by Matthew Young

My Top 10 Most Moving Scenes in Movie History

10) Planet of the Apes

  When Taylor realizes the terrible world he stumbled upon had actually been Earth the entire time.

9) Toy Story 3

When the toys fear that a fiery death is in their future, and they take each other's hand and accept what fate may come.

8) Casablanca

When Rick lets Ilsa go because he loves her and knows it is what is best for her.

7) It's a Wonderful Life

When the town of Bedford Falls rallies around George Bailey and give enough money to save the Building and Loan.

 6) Christmas Vacation

When Clark is stuck in the attic and is driven to tears as he watches old home movies. And this song.

5) To Kill a Mockingbird

When Reverend Sykes tells Scout to stand when her father Atticus passes by.

4) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

When Joel desperately tries to hang on to his last memory of Clementine but the house is crumbling down around him.

3) Planes, Trains and Automobiles

When Neal realizes that Del's wife is really dead and invites him to his house for Thanksgiving.

2) Lost in Translation

When Bob whispers a goodbye to Charlotte in the middle of a crowded street and we can't hear what is said.

1) It's A Wonderful Life

When George and Mary are so close as they talk on the same phone that they cannot control their passions. This is THE most romantic scene in movie history.

My Philosophical Similarities With Alyssa Milano

I was watching an episode of The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson recently, and I found myself completely mesmerized by the segments that included Alyssa Milano. Now, I am not ashamed to disclose that part of this was attributed to purely aesthetic reasons, but I don't think that would be the most scandalous admission anyway. To be honest, it was actually more than just a petty infatuation. Even though most of her work as an actor does not really come through my wheelhouse, I still became a fan of hers over the years. With my limited exposure to her career, I have come to know about her only through her various appearances on talk shows and through the great love affair that sports blogs seem to have with her. It is in this way that I learned of her passion for the game of baseball, and with that knowledge she became a woman after my own heart. Given this, and my possession of a completely idle mind on this particular night in question, I decided to learn a little bit more about this woman and ventured my way towards that bastion of information, Wikipedia.

I found a lot of what I had expected to find. I scrolled through her early life, a summary of her work, and the seemingly prerequisite section that celebrities have on their devotion to vegetarianism. It was not until I landed on the section labeled "Personal Life" that I found something that really grabbed my attention and inspired this very odd blog. Yes, I know this line of thought has been a little weird thus far, but trust me there is a point to it all within sight. To that end, as I read through the descriptions of her various relationships, I stumbled upon this quote:

"I learned so much from him about love, hate and about myself. Just because it ended doesn't mean that it wasn't beautiful."

And here is where we arrive to the point of all this Milano-related build up. That simple quote that she gave a magazine over a decade ago summerizes the idea of the book I wrote better than any of the myriad of ways I have tried to describe it since it was released. As I first set out to write what would become my first book, the driving force behind it all was love. At the time I was experiencing a level of emotion that I had never even caught a glimpse of before. The pages that I began to produce became reservoirs for all these feelings that seemed ready to burst through the levees that existed in my mind. Unfortunately, there are times in one's life where love seems to strain under the pressure of the world and we are forced to look at our relationships in ways that we never wanted to or had imagined we would. We question not only the quality and motives of the love that we thought would be there forever, but we ponder its mere existence in the first place. To me though, this is an exercise in futility. Why do we rake ourselves over the coals with memories that appear out of the past like the undead hand shooting up out of the grave. Why can we not accept our past for what it was, and live with the fact that even though something has ended doesn't mean that it wasn't beautiful.

In the end that choice is ours. We can wallow in the warm feelings of placing blame elsewhere, but in the end they turn cold and provide no comfort. The real solace lays in accepting things for what they are, and appreciating the people and things that come into our lives no matter what amount of time they choose to be with us. The further I got in shaping the lives of the characters in my book in this manner, the more I came to realize that this line of thought had become my own personal philosophy, and I found great comfort in it. The truths that I had to face hurt more than I can describe, and still do to this day, but this philosophy treats like a soothing salve and takes away at least a little of the sting. Little did I know that I was an unaware disciple of the school of Milano, though.

If anyone would like to purchase this book I speak of, here are some links:

Amazon & Kindle

Createspace

Finding Inspiration in Space Grizzlies

It was nearly a quarter century ago, but I really do remember it like it was yesterday. The memories of being curled up with my parents and reading my favorite book are far too vivid for the passage of time to carry out its familiar dirty work. Along with a few select things that have dotted the canvas of my life, the image of troves of "Space Grizzlies" chasing Brother Bear through his dream has a permanent spot in the gallery of my memories. Sitting, listening and following along as my parents read the words to The Berenstain Bears and the Bad Dream, I found my youthful mind falling captive to the world that had unfolded before me. The colors, the illustrations and the characters all grabbed at my attention, but it was really the words and the story that clutched onto my consciousness with a Samson like grip. After my parents read the book to me what feels like at least several thousands of times, I slowly began to pick up the skills necessary to drag the book out myself and let my own eyes do all the work. Suddenly, the world around me appeared limitless. The physical boundaries that permeate this world truthfully didn't hold much significance to me in those days, but any sort of mental barrier that existed in the expanses of my mind came crumbling down in the face of the written word. The feeling that I could step into this little dream world and take it in any direction that I saw fit filled me we a wonder that very few things have been able to since. Why would I let the pressures of this world crush me into smithereens when I could find countless others to escape to and shed the weight of life?

As the years of my life began to pass by, I sought out all these countless worlds and devoured them with the ferocity of a shark at feeding time. I found myself walking along with hobbits as they bravely marched towards what seemed like impending death. I traveled the lonesome dusty roads with migrant workers who only wanted to recapture a tiny piece of the life they once had. I became unstuck in time with a man bouncing back and forth between the unimaginable horrors of World War II and the inconceivable trials of the future. As the number of these worlds that I let myself slip into grew, so did the seed of an idea that I could construct the words on a sheet of paper into a private sanctuary in someone else's mind. From that seed gradually grew a dream and finally from that dream grew a reality.

One day earlier this year, and with the help of the people closest to me, I decided to bring down any physical boundaries and forget any mental barriers that my adult mind had attempted to reconstruct. I sat down in front of a computer and let loose one of the many worlds that had started to clutter my mind. Several months later, in spite of a few trials and tribulations, a book miraculously appeared. My dream, at long last, had finally come to fruition. I sincerely hope that it is entertaining. I hope that it is interesting. More so, I hope that it opens a small little refuge for someone out there to crawl into, take cover from the pressure of reality and explore with a curiosity that leaves them in awe as much as the Berenstain Bears did for me.

If anyone would like to purchase my first book, Means to an Ending, here are a few links where it can be found:

Createspace
Amazon & Kindle