I boxed up my memories into stained, wood-framed 5x3s 'Cause 'college' is just another flickr album to sift through now Hoping to understand how we got where we never knew we didn't want to be: A clean suit, a shit job, a taut rope, and a tall tree A patient, deep breath Poignant ins and outs, a chilling silence set to rest 95 in the sun, 96 in the shade, 107 in the engines of the motorcade We're not products of a new age We're revivalist performers on the original production stage Just turning over rocks to find the mystery But you can't see What's behind what lies beneath So maybe the answer's on the west coast Or in the Mississippi Delta, but I honestly don't think so And I hope to God you can prove me wrong

My bachelor’s degree has fallen asleep on my dresser I’ll hang it someday in place I’ll have made Where presently posters from high school pepper my wall But for now I am stalling But for now I’ll pretend That 30 is dying, that 40 is death That the greatest of sins is to find time to rest I am high strung I am strung out I’ll pretend that my friends are truly fucking free But my future is pending and that won’t bother me I’ll pretend it don’t bother me You’re moving to Brooklyn I’m living at home Neurotically grasping at proof that I’ve grown up a little That I’m not the same child I was for no reason other than The room that I sleep in, the car that I drive The same mortal fear that I’m wasting away still alive But our 20s aren’t sacred, we’re just blowing steam ‘Cause we’re scared there’s a threshold for living our dreams that we’re passing That we’re missing our stop, we forgot to get off, and soon it’ll be gone But it won’t be gone And I know you wouldn't be told what to do You can fall on your own knees Tend to your own bruises, so go You can run the whole way back to Brooklyn Just drop me a line when you feel something brewing inside Some anxious demise One tiny last token of all the years spent telling lies To yourself and your friends 'bout beginnings and ends And the way you don't buy into Societal paradigms of success in the sense of complete self reliance Well you can talk all you want but I know when you're lying

I don't write many happy songs about winter on the north Atlantic coast God knows why 'cause hell, I love it Wet gloves, fingers numb, and boots that never dry on the inside And when we're all grown up We'll rake the leaves on Sunday mornings Impress our neighbors with our adult priorities And we will curse the young And claim we never loved the limbo We'll all be strangers, but we'll pay our own rent

By September it seemed the concrete had set; I told myself each night that I would rise with the sun, but instead pried open crusty, dispirited eyes each morning at 11, like stubborn oysters, begging another minute of mute confusion before the inevitable,sobering, raw exposure of waking life brought a much despised focus to it all. I had always been a list maker, but this practice had been elevated from a helpful organizational technique to a survival strategy in the months since graduation; today I was to check job listings, send out resumes and cover letters to new prospective employers, follow-up call those prospective employers that I had initially contacted a certain period of time back, and read a chapter or two of laborious historical criticism in order to keep my academic mind from spoiling in the daily toxic ritual of repetitious restaurant labor which I had become so accustomed to. Do this, it always seemed, and you will make it through the day. And I always did. But the turning of the seasons had reframed this routine with a new urgency; September, the month I had forever associated with new beginnings, ever since that first brisk morning at the bus stop when the older kids taught five year old me the coolest way to wear my baseball cap, September, the month of new friends, new teachers, then new professors, new opportunities, new experiences, a new start to an old cycle, not merely a spoke to the calendar's wheel but the originating moment of the annual circuit, September, this most stalwart of traditions had, this year, brought no changes. Instead, it's first few weeks blended so completely in my mind with the preceding month of August that I barely noticed the steadily dropping temperature and meekly curling leaves, forfeiting their moisture drop by drop until the annual browning and oranging had visibly begun. I remained oblivious to the fact that summer had, in keeping with its own unchanging annual customs, given way to autumn. Then, a thought; perhaps the entirely predictable growth and change of nature was only jarring because the restaurant, the context for my most distinct moments of angst and anxiety and self-loathing, has no windows. I sigh deeply, completely, and decide that perhaps it wouldn't be too detestable a thing to sleep another hour. And then...a phone call.

Won't say that it's bad that I'm happy I can't complain Cashin' salary checks that are all the same No more minimum wage No more calling my Mom to tell her I'll be home late Because I'm out on my own now Playin' real boy Fully employed in my field (YAY!) Four straight months; sour heart, sad brain Now I'm settling into a new link on the food chain But while it's true that some weathered a long climb Some were abroad with their boyfriends in fancy clothes Living largely, in love for the meantime Or keeping busy while you hold on for tomorrow We all stop We all take stock We all feel regret about paths we've taken There's always a legacy wonderin' 'What ifs' by the hundreds And downplayin' all we've made She went to a better school than you But she's hardly self-actualized Now you spend all your evenings alone in your bedroom But by daylight teach children to empathize with each other What a beautiful thing

Last free parking spot On the end of my new block Smell a salty shore breeze Reminds me of New Jersey But Quincy, my adopted home, is quite a lovely town And so I'll gladly put my roots down to pull a lived life out

I signed my lease with no co-signer My bank raised my credit ceiling by 300% And well, that's pretty cool I guess I pay my rent before the first And every hunger and other thirst I feel is dealt with through expenditures entirely my own And I know it's hardly punk to pay your bills without a headache 'Cause you budget effectively But take my word for it: I'd rather be a poseur and a hypocrite Than stumble 'round New Jersey feelin' like a sack of shit You better believe it So we all got older, but we stayed the same We took a chance at being independent And we worked for all be gained I excelled by other's definitions, but for all my efforts Made a little home on my own terms And I'm not ashamed, no I'm not ashamed

Livin' up to the aspirations of a younger man who wanted to be better Is gettin' tough 'Cause I haven't been off work in five long months and I am tired I know it's hard, I know And sometimes I gotta just raise my head And do the work that the world needs done But sometimes I get lazy and it's hard to admit it, but I gotta be honest I don't always give a shit about the things that matter; The people that I love And that's real fucked up of me Even when I've got the time I don't always use it wisely I ought to call you up And tell you how much you mean Oh it's conceivable we'll change in time We gotta wait and see But maybe someday we'll be the people that we want to be