Ramblings Of A Man Named Joseph Carro

Posts tagged “Sad

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.…

Defeating the Darkness

Posted on November 13, 2018

Whenever I get too down on myself, it’s mostly because I’ve become too caught up in my everyday life. Work, bills, laundry, taxes, dishes, etc. No matter what I do to try to remedy the “everyday blues” – it can be hard to pull myself from the oppressive black hole of the mundane. At that point, I try to take stock of my surroundings. I remember that ultimately it’s the things I choose to do, the things I’ve been courageous enough to try, the things I partake in to set off the constant edge I feel. Those things are all more important to me in the long run than the momentary stresses and anxiety of the day-to-day. I’m no musician, but I’ve spent a…

Ludo

Posted on November 3, 2018

I’ve always had a soft spot for cats, dogs, and other household pets. When I was just a boy, we had a black cat we’d named Blackie (I know that sounds racist, but he was named actually after a local Frenchman who ran a convenience store right next door to us – the store was named “Blackie’s”). Blackie was my first ever pet, and as such – he earned a particularly love-filled spot in my heart that never completely healed when we were forced to get rid of him. I was only four or five years old when we did. Fast forward to me now in my thirties, and I have yet to have a pet to call my absolute own, though I now…

Bob

Posted on September 23, 2018

The last time I ever saw Bob alive, he took me aside toward the end of one of his shifts. Business had slowed, we were cleaning up. I was rearranging some product in the front of the store. “Hey,” he said, rolling up his apron and throwing on his hat. His voice was a bit gravelly, and he cleared his throat as he continued. “I just want to tell you that I appreciate working with you.” “Thanks, Robert,” I said. “I appreciate that.” He nodded, throwing on his jacket. I had been kneeling and slowly brought myself up from my knees and onto my feet, dusting my hands off at my sides. “It gets a little crazy here sometimes,” he continued. “I like that…

The Kittens.

Posted on March 23, 2018

I was ten years old, and we were living in a run-down apartment building on River Street in Lewiston, Maine. The place was crawling with roaches. It stunk of piss and old beer and cigarettes, but for the first time in my life – I had my own apartment. Technically, it belonged to my mom – but for some reason, we had a deal on the two apartments on the top floor and my brother Gary and I slept in one all by ourselves, while my mom had the other one with my sister Monika, and our youngest brother, Chad. It was an odd arrangement, and sometimes we took advantage of the privacy and brought back things we stole from convenience stores. We were…

Let Me Put My Poems In You.

Posted on August 21, 2015

At some point, I think everyone dreams of being a poet. It’s one of those classic romantic things that you’re supposed to like if you’re a lady and supposed to be good at if you want to get the ladies. Or maybe I’m still stuck in the 1800’s. I can’t tell anymore. In any case, I was that little dreamer who felt poetry coursing through his veins. I was that kid with the bright sparkle in his eye and the contempt for his own existence simmering just below the surface. I remember the first time I tried to write a poem. I was in English class, and Mr. Noonan had us all create a poem using words cut from papers and magazines. To my…

Snowflake

Posted on August 19, 2015

Today I’m going to try something new. Being a writer, having this blog, I tend to post about a lot of random things. Interviews, opinion pieces, stories from my childhood. However – there’s something I haven’t done yet, which is really weird considering I’m a writer – and that is to share a fictional story. What to share, though? Well, aside from creating something on the spot (which is something I’ve been thinking about doing every once in a while as a writing prompt), I have decided to post a little piece of flash I titled Snowflake. It’s a story about death, about acceptance, about struggle. I tried to convey a lot of things in a short amount of space – so I hope…