Ramblings Of A Man Named Joseph Carro

Posts tagged “Childhood

The Rundown

Posted on December 11, 2018

When I was fifteen years old, the world was my enemy. And why shouldn’t it have been? It was 1996. Up until that point, the world had done its best to drag me, sometimes screaming, through metaphorical gutters of the worst kinds of waste. At that young age I had already been half-starved, covered in lice and fleas, abused in the worst kinds of ways. I was a victim, but also a survivor. The constant battling only made me harder, scooped out the soft spots in large chunks so what I was left with was a veritable chitinous exoskeleton, impervious to the outside world. As a result, when I moved to the middle-class neighborhood in New Hampshire, filled with anxious folks living in high-end…

The Cranberries

Posted on December 7, 2018

The Cranberries have always had a place in my rotating list of music. When I first discovered them, I was living in Exeter, New Hampshire and going to high school. When I first heard the song “Linger” – with Dolores O’Riordan’s ethereal voice singing the bittersweet lyrics – I immediately connected with it, being an emotional and disenfranchised teen boy. I had been infatuated with a girl in the neighborhood, and at the time, I was consumed by her. No matter what I did, however, it was not meant to be. We were really close in the long run, but it would only ever become a friendship and eventually not even that because time moves on and people change, including me and especially her.…

My Friend Mikey

Posted on December 5, 2018

Sometimes, I think back about friends I had who are no longer with me. This doesn’t have to have anything to do with death, mind you. Sometimes, as people, we just outgrow each other. You move, you go to different schools, you get married. Those kinds of things happen and are pretty inevitable in life. One of these friends I had who fits into this category was named Mike. We all knew him affectionately as Mikey. We met one summer when my mom moved us to Shawmut Street in Lewiston, Maine. We lived in a crappy apartment, infested with fleas and in a bad part of town at the time. We didn’t notice much of that as children, though, only remembering it when we…

Excelsior: My Tribute To Stan Lee

Posted on November 13, 2018

*Artwork by me.   I don’t have any photos with Stan Lee. I was never lucky enough to meet the man in real life – So, on top of that, I also don’t have any touching anecdotes about how I met him in an elevator once, or how I sat down next to him at a convention, or anything else I’ve been grateful to read about him on the day of his death. Stan Lee never encountered me once during the 95 years he roamed our Earth – he didn’t know I even existed. And yet the mark he left on me was indelible, and though he didn’t know I existed – he knew lots of people LIKE me. I was an archetype in…

My Top Ten Favorite Fighting Games

Posted on November 6, 2018

I’ve recently been trying to re-focus my blog to a more personal direction, writing creative non-fiction and tales from my childhood. Yet, the other “segments” I’ve created for my blog, such as Top Ten – still call to me. I feel like it’s time to do another. As I was wondering what subject I should write about for this installment of Top Ten, the idea hit me like a massive Hadouken. I should totally do a Top Ten based around my love for fighting games. I’ve always been a big fan of fighting games, though I was never good at them. Because the games usually focus only on fighting, a big chunk of the art direction goes into making the graphics as slick as…

The Barn

Posted on October 18, 2018

I remember the time when we lived in the big barn in the woods. We slept up in the hayloft with a small black and white television that constantly played old Abbot and Costello movies. We all went to the bathroom in a giant bucket when we needed to, and I remember the cold morning I urinated on a drowned lunar moth – its wings spread across the liquid human waste in a sad parody of flight. I felt sorry for it, even though I was simultaneously scared of its size. Many of my mornings there were spent in a dirty van that smelled of carved wood, of burned wood, of cigarettes and cigars and cheap beer. The metal floor was covered in sawdust.…

The Fight To Be Ignored

Posted on August 6, 2018

When my siblings and I moved from the slummy parts of Lewiston, here in Maine to a middle-class trailer park in Exeter, New Hampshire, it was the early 1990’s and we didn’t realize at the time how tough things would be for us when we arrived. We were excited and at the same time terrified to be leaving our home of all those years. We knew the streets, we knew the people. New Hampshire sounded so fancy to my ears when I said it out loud. I would often say it with an English accent, or at least as much of one as I could muster. “Nyew Hamp-sheer,” I would say, holding up a cup of imaginary tea and slurping it loudly. As the…